This Deadly Engine Read online

  This Deadly Engine

  Book Three of The Engine Series

  Philip Ligon

  Contents

  Newsletter

  Chapter 1

  Chapter 2

  Chapter 3

  Chapter 4

  Chapter 5

  Chapter 6

  Chapter 7

  Chapter 8

  Chapter 9

  Chapter 10

  Chapter 11

  Chapter 12

  Chapter 13

  Chapter 14

  Chapter 15

  Chapter 16

  Review Request

  Acknowledgments

  About Philip Ligon

  Want to keep up to date on news, new releases, and convention appearances? Join the Silver Empire Newsletter!

  For Adam for his willingness to read and re-read early books all those years ago

  Chapter 1

  Fireworks filled the night sky. Blue, red, white, yellow, and green dazzled those who stood in the crowded lanes of Campden. Everyone watched a series of explosions form the shape of Duke Schaever’s badger – his family emblem. Schaever had promised the town a spectacle grander than the one he gave every year at the conclusion of the Duke’s Ball. As the benefactor of magic in the British Empire, he had access to an untold number of spells and tricks. He had planned to make the opening night of the Two Worlds Exposition of Science and Magic so spectacular that no other celebration could ever hope to equal it.

  Both residents and visitors packed the town. People from all over the world had arrived early just so they could witness the historic ceremonies before taking in the mysterious delights contained within the Exposition grounds. In fact, the sheer number of people made hiding in the open possible. For the first time in well over two months, fortune favored me.

  “Look, Mum!” a boy said as he pointed to the right.

  An airship flew over the Exposition. Beams of lights appeared from two dozen places along the envelope. The myriad of colors shot into the night. They moved left and right, up and down. Fireworks exploded all about the ship.

  The back of the gondola opened, and two figures jumped out. Red smoke poured from their backs.

  The crowd gasped as the figures plunged to their deaths. Parents covered their children’s eyes. Yet…halfway down, wings opened and released a spray of golden sparkles. The heavenly beings circled as spontaneous claps joined with the joy of laughter throughout the lane. Had I not known the man behind the celebration better, I might have been tempted to join them.

  However, the monster of a man had revealed his true nature to me. Evil lurked within him the likes of which the Empire had not known since the Duke of Cumberland. Darkness and ambition consumed him.

  The fact he again proved no one equaled his showmanship should have been expected from such an evil and twisted genius. After all, he created living automatons, merged mechanical body parts with living flesh, replaced most of Parliament with robotic doppelgangers, planned to marry an automaton which imprisoned the spirit of his dead love, and lived in an underground paradise.

  He embodied the definition of eccentric, but with a twist of malice and unbridled determination.

  Bodies pressed on all sides. I pushed back as I made my way to the nearest tavern. Decent meals had eluded me since I had kidnapped the old automaton body of Lady Elizabeth, Schaever’s betrothed. I had survived mostly on the scraps given to beggars while eluding Schaever’s Guardsmen and bloodhunters in a constant game of cat-and-mouse. Unfortunately, the mouse grew thinner, hungrier, and more desperate with each passing day. I faced the inevitableness of losing. Before that happened, however, I had decided to leave the town forever, even if doing so involved serious complications.

  For example, The Misters, my former employers who once supplied the magic I needed to stay alive, would search for me no matter where I went. They would take as long as necessary. After all, I had snatched Lady Elizabeth from their grasp, and they would not forget such a betrayal.

  Then there were the Elders, the elves who ruled the magical world. The mark on the back of my hand, the white outline of a single rose petal with a dash across the middle, provided a constant reminder that I belonged to them. I supposedly served their interests. Yet even they had neglected my call for help.

  Schaever, obviously, also searched for me. After witnessing the mass kidnapping at Chen’s Dragon Theatre, I understood the extent of his reach and influence, of his ambitions and goals. Such knowledge made me a threat.

  To slip from the grasp of all three meant going far, far away, to the remotest of places remaining on the earth.

  The little voice in my head, the one I called my little canon as it acted the part of the much more respectable man I once was – of the time I worked for the Church of England – said, “Or you could stay and make a difference.”

  Make a difference? How? My current situation did not allow me to help anyone, much less myself. And truthfully, at that moment, the opportunity to purchase food of real substance took precedence over any other need. The crowds and the excitement meant no one paid me much mind while the festivities continued.

  Two men stood just inside the door of the Sober Ogre. Their unwillingness to move forced me to squeeze between them. I entered an empty room, save for those, the proprietor included, who peered out the front windows. When the owner saw me, he frowned, then looked outside again. “Can I help you, sir?” he asked in a tone that indicated he truly did not want to do anything of the sort.

  I sat at a table. “A meal, please. Whatever you have available.”

  He scowled, glanced out the window as if he tried to decide whether to serve or to ignore me, then sighed and hurried to the kitchen. He returned a moment later with a mug, a bowl, and a piece of bread. “The soup is cold.” He all but threw it on the table in his haste to return to his vantage point.

  Cold. Hot. It mattered not. It would taste amazing either way, and I needed an amazing that had nothing to do with Schaever. Though I tried to tell myself to enjoy the meal, hunger encouraged me to eat quickly. I emptied the bowl and drank half of the ale before better sense forced me to slow. I cleaned the bottom of the bowl with the bread to not allow any of the juicy goodness to escape.

  My belly growled in contentment. When I leaned back to sip the remaining ale, a rare and elusive peace settled over me. I felt…safe. For the first time since kidnapping Lady Elizabeth, I had no need to worry about running from Schaever’s minions.

  One sound, however, shattered the fragile moment – a howl of loneliness and despair that filled me with sadness. Every hair on my arms stood straight.

  The crowd outside the Ogre grew quiet when the howl sounded again, and closer.

  I quickly drank the rest of the ale. I threw my few coins on the table before hurrying to the back of the room. Even as I reached the door to the hallway, the howl sounded a third time.

  I paused to look behind. The crowd parted in front of the establishment, their gasps and shuddering breaths adding to my growing sense of dread.

  It shuffled closer.

  The creature’s red eyes searched for me. Drool covered the white fangs protruding from the top and bottom of its mouth. The elongated head and six legs on a squat body stopped when my scent grew stronger.

  A bloodhunter, trackers from the magical realm who could find any person so long as they had a source of blood. Though I had eluded them since the kidnapping, they would eventually catch me. They never waned in their relentlessness and determination.

  A second bloodhunter appeared behind the first. Its nose pointed straight up to better catch my scent. I closed the door and ran to the end of the hallway. When the creatures threw themselves against the door, it collapsed. The bloodhunters spill
ed into the narrow passage.

  Run, Ash! Run like never before!

  I opened the outside door. The creatures snapped at my legs as I stumbled into the garden. I kicked at them both. In their haste to rip into me first, they entangled themselves in each other’s legs. I slammed the door on their faces.

  Cracking wood echoed between the neighboring buildings.

  I ran for the lane. It would not take long for the bloodhunters to catch me, at least on foot. I desperately needed a means to move faster.

  A glance behind confirmed the two creatures refused to abandon their prey despite their set-back.

  I pushed my way through the crowd as Schaever’s heavenly spectacle continued.

  “What’s this?” one man asked as I squeezed between him and his lady.

  “My apologies,” I said with a tip of my imaginary hat. I spun around a family with two young boys.

  Two howls rose in unison from the alley.

  I would not escape them in the crowd. Had I been able to jump or run like a leopard, I might have had a chance. No elixir flowed in my veins to give me such heightened abilities, though. In fact, the only one in me was a pedestrian variety that served to satisfy my addiction for a short time.

  I moved in the opposite direction from the Two Worlds Expo and found the next lane considerably less crowded.

  A single howl sounded to the left. The hounds had split to circle their prey. One would try to drive me straight to the other.

  Outside of spilling my own blood to temporarily overwhelm their senses, I had to think of another way to confuse them – go through more taverns or try to climb onto the roofs. The former would only slow me while the crowd gave the bloodhunters a wide berth, and the latter would trap me. So it happend when I turned the corner and found a brougham waiting outside of a home, the best option presented itself.

  A gentleman and his lady emerged from the cab as the driver assisted them. I did not hesitate to jump onto his platform even as he yelled in surprise. I kicked the lever for the brake. The driver reached for me, and I urged the pair of horses onward with a snap of the reigns. They lurched forward.

  The gentleman passenger called me a rather unflattering name as he pushed his lady out of the way.

  The driver held onto the back of the cab. A bloodhunter ran full speed not far behind. Its six legs worked in spider-like fashion.

  Down the lane we raced, with me urging the horses faster, the driver dragging his feet along the road, and the bloodhunter closing. I yelled, “Watch the carriage! Make way! Make way!”

  Those in the lane tried to clear a path, but they reacted much too slowly. The monster would catch us soon enough.

  I needed to go to a place that guaranteed safety…but the only havens risked those for whom I cared. So where did that leave me?

  I looked at the watch Cavendish, a gnome who happened to be my best and only friend, had given me. He promised help would come if I twisted the face. Well…I had done that two weeks ago and had heard nary a thing.

  “Stop this cab,” the driver said as he struggled to reach the brake. “Mitzy, whoa!”

  Upon hearing her master’s words, the horse slowed and encouraged her mate to do the same.

  I snapped the reins, but the horse ignored me.

  The driver grabbed my foot to pull me off the platform. I kicked his hand away. He waved about as he avoided my continued insistence concerning his removal.

  The cab slowed to a stop. The closing bloodhunter’s teeth gleamed in the lamplight.

  As the driver pulled himself up, a swift kick to the head sent him reeling to the ground.

  I snapped the reins again. “Ho, Mitzy!”

  The horses responded by going at a trot a gentleman would find acceptable. In spite of my insistence, they refused to go faster, especially as we wove our way through the crowd. When we turned onto King’s Road, a portly gentleman and his equally portly wife motioned for me to stop. When I refused, he yelled, “A bloody good evening to you, too, sir!”

  The bloodhunter continued on. The second one rejoined it. Their appearance in the busy lane gave rise to many cries of surprise.

  I slowed further to allow other cabs safe passage.

  Where am I going? Where…can I go?

  “You know the answer,” the canon said.

  Though I had promised never to use the secret door, my need demanded that I try. If anyone could save me from the bloodhunters, it would be Pienne, the toady man who was a genius when it concerned magical elixirs. He gave me a power for each of The Misters’ assignments. Maybe he could give me one more to stay alive.

  The canon said, “That is not the refuge you need. Go to her.”

  I ignored the voice and turned onto Queen’s Street.

  A man leaning against a lamp pole called, “You there! How ‘bout a ride home?” I pretended to ignore him, so he spat. “Too good, eh? I’ll show you what it means to be too good.” He started towards the horses.

  “Alms for the poor,” a street urchin called from the side.

  I snapped the reins harder. The horses snorted as they darted forward, between the man and the urchin. They headed for another brougham taking on a passenger. I called, “Look out for the horses!”

  “Watch yourself,” the other driver said. He ran over to make sure I didn’t hit his carriage. He flipped his chin at me as I passed.

  I tipped my imaginary hat.

  The bloodhunters followed, gaining valuable feet every time I suffered even the smallest delay.

  I maneuvered past The Royale, which served the finest lamb shank in town, and made the turn towards the place of my former employment.

  The building The Misters used not only stood in grandiose magnificence, but also in stark contrast to the thieves it sheltered. Marble columns lined the front along with ten niches on the ground floor, each of which held a marble statue. Gold trim on top of the building proclaimed et justitia praevalebit – and justice will prevail. What did it say about my life that the cold exteriors represented home to me more than any other place? That in order to go home meant risking my life?

  Perhaps I could slip in without drawing the attention of The Misters.

  Next to the lawyer’s building loomed the Merchant’s Exchange. Many considered the always spinning globe that resided on top one of the jewels of the Campden roofline. Lights illuminated the places in the world from where the most recent imports had been brought. It stood above a structure reminiscent of the great pyramids with its recessed upper floors. The grand stairs stretching across the front looked as if they belonged to one of the temples of the Greek gods. The lavish building stood as a testament to the continued economic dominance the Empire enjoyed.

  At that moment, however, with the lights on the spinning globe, it served as a beacon of hope and a sign of life.

  Yet…how utterly ridiculous was the thought that I could go to The Misters for refuge. The two men enjoyed lording their authority over their servants with their cold, ruthless, and manipulative methods. If they caught me sneaking in, they would likely give me the fatal dose of three elixirs. I had no doubt that they would watch with delight as my insides boiled, my skin burned, and I turned into a mush of raw pudding.

  How despicable and desperate had my life become? How did I ever let it come to such nonsense?

  The canon said, “Go to her instead.”

  No!

  The crowds in the street had disappeared. The privately hired Guardsmen who protected the Merchant’s Exchange discouraged any and all passersby after proper business hours.

  I stopped the horses well short of the Exchange and climbed down from my station. I squeezed the whip in my right hand and paused.

  This is an act of desperation. And it is going to hurt.

  I pulled the whip hard, cutting my palm. Though I tried not to cry out, a groan escaped.

  Don’t stop now.

  I had tricked the bloodhunters before by spilling my own blood. Enough of it made their tracking difficult fo
r a time. It would also put them into a deadly frenzy.

  I circled the brougham and smeared blood on it. For good measure, I opened a door and ran my hand along the floor. Such messy business concluded, I wrapped my hand with a strip from my shirt. Before hurrying away, I pulled the pin holding the horses’ harness to the carriage. A slap on Mitzy’s hindquarters sent the pair galloping away.

  They did not need to be victims of the bloodhunters’ lust.

  When the creatures reached the carriage, the smell of my blood caused them to howl and snort in excitement. I paused long enough to watch them lick the blood at every place I had touched on the right side. One picked up the scent inside and ripped the door off its hinges. It hoped to trap me within the confined space. The other joined it, driven to pushing and shoving to taste my flesh first.

  Before they discovered the deception, I hurried towards the lawyer’s building.

  On the front steps of the Merchant’s Exchange sat four of the Guardsmen. They peered at the distant lights still filling in the sky. Could I slip by them? Would the lights keep their attention?

  I had no choice but to try.

  I held my breath. The gas lamps and the illumination of the turning globe kept most shadows at bay.

  One of the Guardsman pointed as lights from several airships danced among the stars. The man’s voice carried down the street. “Will you look at that?”

  Another said, “I wish we weren’t on duty. Of all the rotten nights. Instead of joining everyone else, I’m stuck with the lot of you.”

  The bloodhunters shuffled into the middle of the lane. One turned in every direction, trying to catch my scent while the other sniffed the ground.

  An ever-tightening noose trapped me, with enemies on both sides. Did I face the final judgment for my sins? Had the consequences of my wrongs caught up with me at last?