This Deadly Engine Page 22

  I laughed aloud at the preposterousness, the impossibility, of it all.

  The group stared at me as if Branagh’s Ale poured out of my ears. Cavendish asked, “Are you well, Ash?”

  “I remain in control if that is what you are wondering.” I avoided answering his question, for he would not like what he heard.

  Whatever fate befell me and my quests, Campden would continue on for better or for worse after the night gave way to tomorrow’s dawn. With any luck, the sun would rise on a new town – one that depended less on magic and where those who wielded the power for their own gain were finished for all time. If I somehow survived, I vowed to leave. My departure would mean one less magic-user, one less magic addict, and one less wound to heal.

  The cyclops said, “I still believe you rely far too much on magic for this confrontation.”

  “Who is to say Frengarn does not rely far too much on science?”

  Perrin gave no answer as our group made our way through the excited crowd. When we arrived at the old Templar cave, the familiar knock – the same as the one at the lawyer’s building – gained us entrance.

  The Misters stood from where they had been watching the faeries in the glass box. They greeted us as soon as we entered the cave itself. “Hmmm, but it appears they succeeded in their endeavors,” Mister Mercy said as he motioned to Cavendish’s bag.

  “Yes,” Mister Important added, “they have surely assembled a nice collection from our possessions.” The desire for power that filled his voice, not unlike a magic addict’s asking for an elixir, made my skin crawl.

  The Treyo Duthku said, “You are making a mistake if you believe you can defeat Frengarn. Only by turning the Gray Heart over to my people do we have a chance to end his threat.” She folded her arms. “You risk all of our lives. And for what? A misinformed idea of what is right and what is wrong? A belief that the gnomes can save the world?”

  I motioned for Cavendish and Ravenlea to hand out the items to our assembled army. They did so, giving instructions on how to use them.

  Since they needed time, I motioned for The Misters to join me to the side, out of the gnomes’ way. The Treyo Duthku followed.

  I said, “We must destroy the new Gateway. If we catch Frengarn on this side, he will have no means of returning to his home since his automaton body is too big for the Gateway at Branagh’s. Likewise, if we catch him on the other side, then he has no means of returning here. Either way, we limit his power and influence.”

  The elf said, “He will still find a way. Only by killing him do you truly put an end to his schemes.”

  “If we kill him then he is free to possess another automaton body, one able to go through the Gateway at Branagh’s. And one we would not recognize. Until we find his true body, it is better to let him live in his present form.” Before the elf protested further, I turned to The Misters. “Did you confirm the portal’s location?”

  “Yes,” they answered in unison, then Mister Important added, “It is in a room beyond the town square in the City of the Future. We know how to reach it.”

  The Treyo Duthku said, “You still have not answered my question. Why are you risking my world,” she motioned to the army of freaks, “by relying on them? Again, I insist that you turn the Gray Heart over to those who can best use its power.”

  I pointed to the dwarf with the gun arm. Then I pointed to the spider lady. Then I pointed to the half-elf, half-human with the metal skull. I asked the Treyo Duthku, “Do you see them?” When she gave a half-nod, I pointed to the gnome with two metal arms, to the giant with the steel plates around his torso, to the man with the metal legs twice as long as normal. “In the same manner that it is for Perrin and me, for Cavendish, for Ravenlea, it is for them. Frengarn and Schaever have wronged all of us. This night will see atonement for some of those sins.” I motioned to The Misters. “Even they have a special dislike for those we are fighting. Our worlds may not want us, our worlds might reject us and make us outcasts, but it is up to us to save them. No one else will, and no one else can.”

  The man with the left half of his body covered in black metal turned to us. “Nothing will stop us. Not Frengarn. Not Duke Schaever. Not any of their machines.” He held a dagger that soaked in the light around it. “We will fight like nothing these worlds have ever seen.”

  The spider lady stepped forward. “We have nothing to lose. And those who have nothing to lose are the most dangerous.”

  The Treyo Duthku folded her arms. She glared at Ravenlea, who still held the promise of the elf’s surrender and the leverage that granted.

  No one spoke while the two gnomes continued distribution of the magic items. Once they finished and the army stood ready, Mister Important said, “We must go now. Duke Schaever is hosting a parade through the town in celebration of his wedding. Yes, but we have made arrangements to join them.”

  “March through the town?” I asked. “When we need to go straight to the Expo?”

  Mister Mercy scratched his brother’s nose. “We have decided that the best way to gain access is to blend in. Should we lead this…” He looked behind them. “…this freakish army through the lanes, how long do you believe it would take before the Guardsmen stopped us? Surely Duke Schaever searches for them, hmmm?”

  The smugness in both sets of eyes, as if they knew they possessed far superior intellect than any of us, nauseated me. Yet the knowledge that they ordered the burning of the tannery merely to save themselves trouble infuriated me beyond description.

  Perrin said, “They are not unlike the orcs in their attitudes and actions.”

  The Misters killed for convenience. I knew they did, and understood their cold nature, but seeing the consequences of their own ambition disturbed my sense of compassion, mercy, love, and justice.

  I needed to watch my back as much as I needed to take a bath to wash the taint of their filth away.

  Still…Mister Mercy made a good point. My own pride and a general dislike of the men would not be allowed to dismiss their idea. And though it sounded counter-intuitive, sometimes the longest route proved to be the quickest way to get to a destination.

  I asked the assembled army, “Is everyone ready?”

  To a one, they answered yes. No doubt filled their voices.

  How many, if any, would survive the evening and the night?

  Cavendish and Ravenlea held hands as they watched me. If I could have taken a photograph to remember their resolve, their contentment, and their nervousness, I would have. They summed the totality of emotions within Perrin and me.

  I double-checked my own items to give myself some peace of mind – the Jewel of Ghormhan, the Sword of Laggin, the Ring of Seven Powers, the Statue of Forneil, and the Gray Heart. Satisfied, I motioned to The Misters. “Please, lead the way.”

  The twins did so, looking as if they believed themselves deserving of such an honor with their heads high, their shoulders back, and the faery box swinging at their side. They would assume control of us all at the first opportunity.

  We entered the early evening, and the expectations of the town had grown even greater. The background hum of voices had increased, but not to the point that it overwhelmed the laughter, the applause, the grinding of metal, the clacking of wagons, and the stomping of feet a block or so away.

  “We must hurry,” Mister Important said.

  We pushed through the crowd. Murmurs rippled across the people as they wondered if we were a new amusement.

  What would they have thought if they knew an army of salvation and death passed before them?

  When we reached the corner, we found the parade already moving down the lane. A man twelve feet tall walked on what appeared to be long legs. He waved to the children far below as he swung his legs forward. Behind him faeries flew about, each trailing a stream of light and glitter that faded after a few seconds.

  Next followed steam-powered mini-wagons painted a variety of colors, each barely large enough for their driver to sit in. Smoke from thei
r engines blew out pipes on the back. Each had a small bucket on the hood, almost between the drivers’ legs. From those buckets shot small balls of twirling, sizzling, sparkling lights that rose twenty feet high, then exploded in a shower of multi-colored sparks.

  A company of the Fire Brigade appeared next, their mighty water wagon churning along. Four of the men, two on each side, held hoses from which water sprayed onto the crowd. As soon as the water struck something or someone, it evaporated into a foggy mist, much to the delight of the crowd.

  We saw a company of reptilians, all adorned in their finest loincloths, armbands lined with precious stones, and carrying the black metal weapons forged by the giant dragon in the underground cavern where the vault had once sat.

  A collection of carriages rumbled down the lane, each adorned with the latest silks from the Far East, flags of different nations – the United States, France, Belgium, Greece, Spain, Prussia, Norway, Monaco, Austria, and others – tube lights along the edges, silver-plated ornaments, and other oddities as displayed by the Merchants’ Exchange.

  A pair of small dragons made the crowd gasp in shock and delight. Chains from each dragon’s neck extended to the four handlers who held them in check. The creatures flew along, watching the crowd closely, probably searching for a gnome to snack on. Two elves followed behind, speaking dragon tongue, and keeping the beasts under control.

  Behind them marched a company of Guardsmen. Ravenlea gasped at the sight of their marble eyes. She hid her own behind her hands.

  A dozen elves marched along. They wore neck collars with a leash held by a human. The bruises on their faces and arms and the tears staining their clothing indicated their mistreatment. The sight of the slaves made many in the crowd cheer.

  For all that I had seen up to that point, though, nothing compared to what appeared next – giant automatons.

  They stood nine-feet tall and as broad and thick as a cyclops. Black armor covered them from neck to ankle. Plates segmented every two inches allowed flexibility and movement. Their arms ended, not in hands, but in weapons such as a mace or a sword or a gun or a rotating revolver with a string of bullets wrapped around the arm and torso. Their heads reminded me of a cyclops’ helmet, but with a solid black metal front instead of glass. Through the single, round eye-slit in the middle, I thought I caught a glimpse of a large marble, at least four inches in diameter.

  If the company of mechanical Guardsmen intimidated with their synchronized marching, these monstrosities terrified with their presence. The ground rumbled when they walked, their black metal boots striking in perfect unison.

  Cavendish said, “War machines.”

  The next generation of mechanical monstrosities, no doubt. A small part of the invasion force which would go against the Elders, then turn against their human creators.

  Perrin whispered, “May the Elders stand fast against such as these.”

  Behind the monsters marched a company of orcs, each of whom appeared pleased by their prospects of finally winning their war. None of them acknowledged the humans. Their eyes followed only the marvels of death ahead.

  One of the mechanical creatures raised its cannon-like arm. A boom made the crowd cower. A streak of black smoke raced through the sky. It ended with an explosion of reds and purples and blues for which the crowd cheered, though somewhat nervously.

  Cavendish and I looked at each other. The worry on his face and the tenseness of his features mirrored my own.

  Behind the orcs followed numerous dignitaries, all arrived from around the empire to celebrate the upcoming wedding and to partake in the festivities of the Expo. They wore their finest and rode in chairs carried by more mechanical Guardsmen. Some waved lights that smeared colors across the air, some pointed guns that shot streaks of light, and others released small butterfly lights that danced around the crowd and dazzled everyone they touched.

  Once they passed, The Misters led us into the lane, where we became a part of the bizarre spectacle. We followed the parade through the town in a surreal exhibition of power for which everyone cheered.

  The Bishop had been correct. The people indulged Schaever so long as he fed them the incredible and the impossible.

  We reached the main gates of the Expo and entered with all the pomp and majesty of a victorious army liberating a captured town. As the metal gates swung wide, the crowd cheered and yelled. They pressed in on all sides. Hands reached out to touch us as if we could bring about good fortune.

  We followed the parade down the main thoroughfare as if we belonged. No one either questioned us or tried to stop us. When the parade turned left, we turned right. We marched through the crowd and to the City of the Future.

  We stopped in front of the series of buildings that comprised the complex. Semi-circular corridors of glass with steel bands holding the panes in place connected each building. The first had a rotunda made of glass with a silver dome on top reminiscent of the nose of an airship.

  Speaking of the flying contraptions, the building holding them stood to the left, its massive roof open in anticipation of the new ships launching the soon-to-be newlyweds across the world.

  “Where do we go?” Cavendish asked.

  The Misters answered at the same time, “Follow us.” They led the way to the white building on the right, the one with steel columns. The sign before it read, “New Homes for a Prosperous Future.” We entered the glass doors. A row of homes, each with green grass, concrete walkways, and picket fences greeted us. Red paint adorned the trim of the first house, blue on the second, green on the third, purple on the fourth, and yellow on the fifth. Automaton children played games in the yards. They laughed and smiled and seemed to enjoy themselves as automaton parents sat on the porches and watched with approval. The festivities outside had drawn most people away, but a handful entered the homes to tour new features and new designs.

  We passed the elegant homes as we followed the signs that pointed us to the ‘Town Square of Tomorrow.’ A group of orcs blocked the entrance.

  My nostrils flared and before I knew what happened, I unsheathed my sword. Perrin hummed his favorite killing melody, a ballad about a cyclops who wiped out five orc villages as he sought to free his wife. I wanted – no, needed – to drive my blade into an orc’s chest.

  For their part, the orcs unsheathed their weapons. Each glared with his beady insect eyes.

  Perrin asked, “Why are you waiting? Let me kill them.”

  Cavendish, The Misters, the Treyo Duthku, and the army of freaks lined up on either side of me.

  “And one for her capture, and one for her auction, and another for this righteous venture,” sang the words in my head as I raced to meet the creatures. I cut down the first one. The sword hummed and glowed red. Before I stabbed the next orc I said, “Stop! No killing!”

  My sword hesitated above the creature. For the reward of showing restraint, the orc drove his sword into my side.

  I gasped as I stumbled back. A shooting pain seized my right side.

  Perrin sang louder as we drove our sword into the orc’s chest. The creature crumpled. I turned to another. We sliced through the orc’s belly. The room blurred as we cut down a fourth and a fifth.

  What am I doing?

  “What needs to be done,” I said aloud, then sang louder. Too many years had passed since orc blood dripped from my weapons.

  We pushed through the entrance and spilled into a cavernous room. Steam wagons ran along streets. A single-car train followed a track through the center of a square complete with a small park, and a pond with Schaever’s favorite feature – a fountain – in the middle of the tree-lined area.

  Buildings around the square offered everything from clothing to food to toys.

  Over the buildings hovered a dragon of a similar size to the one that had guarded Duke Schaever’s vault. Four more of equal size surrounded it.

  “The invasion has begun,” I said. Though Perrin urged us forward into battle, I resisted as I turned to The Misters. “Whe
re is the portal?”

  The twins pointed to the other side of the square. Mister Mercy said, “In the room beyond.”

  I took a deep breath. The anticipation in every muscle, every bone, along with the ache from the orc wound, spoke to me. In that moment, the world felt…alive. Success or failure awaited. Either one would determine the ultimate fate of two worlds.

  Perrin said, “It is time to find out which it will be. Trust me, Alexander, as I have trusted you. Let my experience guide us in this righteous endeavor. We are an agreeable pair who make a formidable foe. Do not let your strange sense of morality be our ruin.”

  “My strange sense—”

  “Causes you trouble.”

  As more orcs appeared with swords and shields, I asked, “Are you ready, Cavendish?”

  The orcs formed a line and advanced in unison.

  Despite the fact that they outnumbered us, I would not back down. Not this time. Not ever. This reminded me of the Valley of Reganas Eight.

  Cavendish motioned for the man with steel plates on his face to step forward. The man did so and held his hand out, palm up. There sat a small statue of what looked like a mix between a horse’s body and an elephant’s nose and ears.

  An alloops!

  The man spoke several words. Smoke gushed from the alloops’ trunk. It filled the air and obscured everything.

  Ravenlea pointed to the left. “A dragon is swooping in.”

  The spider lady moved forward. She threw six lockets. Each opened into giant nets.

  Before the dragon knew what happened, it found itself tangled – head, wings, legs, and torso. The freak army split apart as the creature fell. It crashed with a cry and with such force that all of the buildings shook.

  “The orcs are charging,” Ravenlea said. “Twenty on the left…fifteen on the right.”

  I put Cavendish on my left shoulder. I placed Ravenlea on my right. I sheathed the Sword of Laggin and took out the boarding axe. A tug of the string set the machine to humming and the chain to spinning.