The Knack Series, Book 1
A Knack for Metal and Bone
A royal tinker and a rogue soldier must unite to stop the monsters threatening their city—and unravel the secrets lurking within it.
Rowan doesn’t just work with machines—she hears them. The hum of engines, the whisper of gears and wires—they speak to her through the magic that flows from her mech hand. Whether she’s fine-tuning the colossal automaton that protects New Torwood City or toiling in her workshop, being a mechanic is the only life she truly enjoys. But the Regent’s Council wants more. They demand a princess who will embrace the pomp and ceremony of royal duty, not a tinker with oil-stained hands.
When she’s unexpectedly recruited into Ranger Squad 54 for a mission deep into the wild Meadows, Rowan leaps at the chance. Finally, a way to serve her city and put her unique talents to use—far from the glittering halls of royalty.
Conall, an ex-commander, knows the dangers of the Meadows firsthand. Discharged from the Rangers when his inner wolf broke free during battle, he now makes a living running rare artifacts between New Torwood and the southern cities. But the Rangers have a new mission for him—one that could clear his tarnished record. A group of international scientists has vanished, and recovering them is critical for the future of New Torwood. Failure could push the city into a war it cannot afford.
Thrown together on a high-risk mission, Rowan, Conall, and the Rangers of Squad 54 will face unimaginable dangers in the wilderness and uncover dark secrets that could shake the foundations of the city they’ve sworn to protect. But the real menace might be at the heart of New Torwood itself.
Embark on a thrilling adventure with A Knack for Metal and Bone, the first book in an epic new fantasy-steampunk series from the author of The Valkyrie Bestiary.
Read an Excerpt
Chapter 2: A Giant Leap
Rowan stood on the wall that surrounded New Torwood City and watched a cat cross the grasslands. Silhouetted against the midnight sun, the train of wind-powered cars really did look like a caterpillar, but white sails made it part butterfly too.
The cat sailed west, away from the city, and Rowan bit down on a sudden rush of envy.
Phalian launched from her shoulder and flitted into the great expanse of sky, but only for about a dozen yards before the wind buffeted him. The little mech bird returned to her shoulder and clicked his metal wings in irritation.
“You know you have to be careful up here. That wind can be fierce.” She patted him with the tip of a finger as she gazed at the amazing vista spread out before her. The Meadows went on for miles in an endless sea of grass that shimmered green and gold until it met the Ubruulen Mountain Range far to the north, their jagged peaks like teeth that had rent the horizon.
It was beautiful, majestic…and empty.
New Torwood City wasn’t on the way to anywhere. It held little strategic significance for the bigger cities to the south, and so it was mostly left out of squabbles over land and resources. You could see its gray walls from the old Kanta Highway that wayfarers still used to cross the Meadows, but you had to be very foolish or very brave to make that journey. Which were they, the ones riding the cat?
Brave, she decided. Brave and lucky.
The only way she ever saw the outside world was when she came up here. The wall was her refuge from the endless functions, galas and state dinners that Regent Atherton expected her to attend.
She was supposed to be at one such gala in less than an hour.
Screw that plan.
She had real work to do. And besides, the day was too bright and warm to be stuck inside chatting with some stiff ambassador from the southern cities. When he discovered she was gone, the regent would reprimand her, of course, but he couldn’t punish her. She’d learned that golden rule many years ago, when she was a lonely, unruly child. And once she’d learned it, she’d refused to be stuffed back into her princess ballgown again.
Six stories above the busy streets, she could forget that stifling life.
She pressed her hands to the wall. Her left, fully human hand wore a black fingerless glove. The sunbaked stone was hot under her touch. The fingertips of her right hand were even more sensitive though they were fully gloved in supple black leather. The glove hid the mech prosthetic, gifted to her by Uncle Hermie after the horrific childhood incident that caused the amputation of her arm half-way to her elbow. It also dampened the hypersensitivity of the mech fingers, otherwise she’d go mad from the constant onslaught of sensory input from the hand.
Anything mage-made—whether stone, metal or wood—brought a reaction from her mech touch. Even now, as she leaned on the wall, it sent magic deep into the stones, tracing mortar lines like neural pathways, and pinging back information about the wall’s health and stability.
Rowan patted the stones. All was well with her city’s mighty fortress.
She opened a pouch on her tool belt and pulled out a timepiece made of brass gears and cogs arranged as much for their aesthetics as for functionality. The longest arm ticked off the last seconds before nine o’clock. Rowan counted with it.
Three, two, one…
Talos appeared in the distance. Right on time.
He was a mech marvel. Seventy-six feet tall, he could rest his chin on the wall if he wanted to. Of course, he didn’t. He was just an automaton, a pneuma creation that Harry Hightower gifted to the city founders, but he was from an age when mech mages could create true marvels from metal, gears and wires.
For nearly three centuries, Talos had guarded the walls of New Torwood with measured steps. And Rowan was the only mechanic left who could fix him when he broke down.
As she watched his approach, she leaned too far over the short wall, and Phalian fluttered at her shoulder, pushing her back to safety.
“Okay, okay! I just wanted to get a good look. Does he seem to be limping to you?”
The mech bird said, “TWEET!”
“Go look.”
He flew off with a whir of metal wings, zipped around Talos’s head, then dove and circled the automaton’s knees. Through Phalian, Rowan could sense an unhealthy grinding of gears inside the giant mech.
She whistled for Phalian to return and scrutinized Talos. The ground beneath him was packed tighter than stone after centuries of his massive feet pounding out the path each day. His left foot lifted and slammed down. Right foot lifted, paused, and fell.
Yes, he was definitely limping.
She’d come out this morning for routine maintenance, but this was going to take longer.
Oh, well. She grinned fiercely as she got ready to leap. This was so much more fun than a boring old palace party.
Talos was only a hundred feet away now. Phalian clacked his wings near her ear. He hated this part. If Rowan was honest, part of her did too, but mostly, she found it exhilarating. She was never more alive than when she hopped the two-foot gap between the wall and Talos’s shoulder.
As he came alongside, she sucked in a breath and leaped.
Don’t look down. Don’t look down.
She looked down.
The drop was sixty-six feet to hard ground. Her stomach twisted. Her foot slipped on Talos’s epaulette. A sudden gust of wind tugged her off balance.
Phalian said, “SQUAWK!”
Rowan grabbed for an unobtrusive metal handle sticking out of Talos’s shoulder. Her mech fingers locked around the handle and she hung on.
Meet the Characters:
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