The Clockwork God Read online

  Aboard the Great Iron Horse:

  The Clockwork God

  By

  Jamie Sedgwick

  Engineer’s Log, Day 43

  Today, we caught a glimpse of green vegetation erupting through the ice and many leagues to the south, the promising blue-green hue of what appears to be a forest. A rousing cheer went up among the residents of the Iron Horse, and I sounded the whistle in celebration. I have promised them a hunting trip as soon as we reach the woods. I admit feeling a certain sense of relief in this matter, as many of our supplies have run low and tensions have been high among the crew. At the outset, I made every effort to emphasize the importance of respect and cooperation in this adventure, but I have found certain crewmembers to be of intractable disposition and irrevocably set in their ways. I sense that at some point in the near future, we may have a reckoning.

  We have been traveling for six weeks. After departing Sanctuary, our journey led us through the ancient subterranean tunnels built under the city almost a thousand years ago. Upon reaching a sheer wall of solid ice at the end of the tunnels, I ordered the crew to secure our cargo, and we rammed through at full speed. It was the exact sort of task the Horse was built for, though the exercise seemed to put my crew through considerable emotional strain. When they realized that we were barreling full-steam into a wall of ice, a few of them actually panicked. Thankfully, no one was hurt, and the ice provided little resistance to the Horse’s hardened steel chassis.

  After breaking through, we were disheartened to learn that we were still buried under at least thirty feet of snow. We pressed on at half speed, tunneling in darkness for three days, catching only occasional glimpses of filtered sunlight shining down in a bluish hue from above. Several crewmembers suffered from the irrational fear of claustrophobia, and I had to sedate one man with a tea of powdered duskwood leaves. Then, at last, the tracks rose to meet the frozen steppes of the Wastelands, and we once again saw the sun. Unfortunately, in the Wastelands there is little else to see. The crew quickly grew demoralized at the sight of endless miles of snow and ice, and within hours, they were back to quarreling.

  Since that day, we have glimpsed occasional herds of caribou, wolves and bear, as well as wild hare and a variety of raptors and field mice, almost all of which are cloaked in white fur or feathers that undoubtedly aid their survival in this desolate landscape. We have also encountered and befriended a diminutive humanoid creature by the name of Micah, who has since taken up residence in the attic over the library and proclaimed himself the train’s cartographer. He came prepared with maps of territories that we have not yet explored, and I hope that his talents will prove valuable to our expedition. To his credit, Micah is not only quite artistic, but has also proven popular among the crew. They seem to enjoy his jokes and the improbable stories of his adventures. I am thankful for his presence if for no other reason than it seems to have -temporarily at least-put an end to the brawling.

  Chapter 1

  “I’ll show three fools if you have a king,” Kale announced, leaning precariously back in his chair, a twisted smile pulling up the corners of his mouth. Smoldering blue eyes gazed out from under dark bangs, the tips of his hair just grazing the angry red scar on his right cheek. Kale tossed his head, and as he did, the old wooden chair frame creaked under the sinewy warrior’s great weight. River glanced at Kale over her cards, ignoring the man’s hardened muscles and deep penetrating gaze, searching for the telltale curl of his lips that always belied a bluff. In response, he shot her a devious grin.

  He’s getting better at this, she thought grimly.

  The other occupants of the dining car watched in silence as the players examined their hands, the endless drone of the rails filling their ears, the low humming sound punctuated by the occasional clinking of dishes and the creaking noise of the Horse’s massive steel chassis. Outside, the barren landscape seemed almost motionless. It was a world frozen, static, entirely lacking anything that resembled comfort, warmth, or safety. Endless fields of prairie stretched out in every direction, marked only by bright rivers of snow and scattered piles of boulders. Far to the north, barely visible in the haze, rose the sharp craggy peaks of distant mountains. A few leagues ahead and out of sight to the occupants of the Iron Horse, spread a massive forest. This they hoped, signaled a change in their fortunes.

  “Fool’s a bet,” River said at last, pursing her full, pouty lips. She threw a handful of copper coins on the table. “I call your hand.”

  “I’m out,” said Burk, the tall baldheaded blacksmith. He scratched his thick black beard as he tossed his cards on the table. “Someone buy me a drink!”

  “Me too,” said one of the other players, tossing his cards aside. River grinned with satisfaction as the other players abandoned the game. At last, only River and Kale remained. In unison, the two players spread their cards on the table, face up.

  “Three kings!” River exclaimed, her eyes widening as she stared at Kale’s cards. She fixed the warrior with a hard stare. “You lied!”

  “Bluffed,” he said with a wink. “I bluffed, just like I always do. Why do you keep falling for it?”

  River snarled as Kale leaned forward to gather the stack of coins from the table. They were mostly copper, but a few silvers had found their way into the pot. For a moment, it looked like River might take a swing at him. The crowd around them went tense. They had seen River fight before. Kale however, didn’t flinch. He’d known River since she was a babe and there weren’t many things he could do that would drive her to violence. If he knew a sure way, he’d do it more often. He enjoyed a good wrestling match with a beautiful woman.

  Deep down, Kale was absolutely certain that River was madly in love with him. Why wouldn’t she be? He was the best looking man on the Horse by far, and she was… well, she was River. Her blonde hair and fine skin were the stuff of legends. She was gorgeous. And, in Kale’s opinion, the universe had put the two of them together for a reason. It was just a matter of time until she came to her senses and figured that out. Until then, he’d just let nature take its course…

  “All hands, dead stop!” a voice shouted over the communications pipe, and the train’s whistle blew furiously. At the same moment, the brakes locked up. A horrible grinding, screeching noise came up from the wheels, and the floor of the dining car began to vibrate. The table bounced forward, slamming into River’s chest and knocking her to the ground. At the same time, Kale’s chair leapt into the air and dumped him unceremoniously to the floor. All around them, people slammed into walls and furniture. Glasses, plates, and bottles crashed to the floor and shattered. Kale’s precious stack of coppers scattered from one end of the dining car to the other.

  The Iron Horse quickly lost speed and the sudden loss of inertia made it all but impossible for the untrained crew to regain their footing. The elf-like Tal’mar were first to get back on their feet. Their slender builds and agility allowed them to negotiate the tsunami of broken glass and overturned furniture while their heavier human counterparts were still floundering. They lunged for the door and vanished up the brass ladders to the rooftops. River, Kale, and the others were still scrambling to find footing without slicing open a vein on the broken glass.

  At last, the screeching subsided and the train’s whistle went mute. Gradually, inch by inch, the Iron Horse rolled to a stop. The last of the crew abandoned the train, leaping out onto the frozen ground. They scanned the tracks ahead and immediately discerned the problem. A pile of boulders the size of a house lay across the southern set of tracks.

  Kale and River rushed up to the locomotive and found Socrates perched on the railing near the front smokestacks, looking down over the scene with a frown. Socrates was the chief engineer and commander of the ex
pedition. From a distance, Socrates could easily have passed for a simple primate, but up close, he was something entirely different. In reality, Socrates was an autonomous gorilla powered by steam. His body was covered in dense blue-black fur. Open patches in the fur on the side of his head and one forearm revealed tiny, intricate mechanisms of brass and copper gears, cogs, and machinery. A small smokestack poked up behind his ear, releasing puffs of steam at regular intervals. Standing there on the platform wearing his leather vest and rectangular tinted glasses, the simian looked almost human.

  Socrates caught hold of the brass bar mounted near the stairs and swung himself deftly off the platform. He vaulted through the air and thumped to the ground heavily behind River and Kale. They watched in silence as he lumbered past, the machinery inside of him clicking and whirring ever so quietly. The rest of the crew parted to make way for their leader. Socrates circled the pile of stones on the tracks, touching them here and there, making calculations in his head. He stepped back to stare at the boulders, scratching his chin. This went on for several minutes, until at last he turned to face the crewmembers who had gathered at the front of the locomotive.

  “We can’t clear the tracks by hand,” he said in a booming voice. “We’ll have to assemble the crane. Burk, I’ll need your help with that. I’ll also need you, River. The rest of you, start cleaning up the mess. Kale, take someone back to the fifth cargo car and unload the steamwagon. We’ll need it to haul the crane.” Kale tapped a nearby Tal’mar man on the shoulder and they both took off. The rest of the crew grumbled as they went to work, but not enough to get Socrates’ attention.

  River and Burk followed Socrates back to one of the many massive cargo cars a few hundred yards down the train. An icy wind splashed over them as they walked, and the frozen ground crunched under their feet. Somewhere in the distance, a wolf howled and a moment later, a second responded.

  “To think we left Sanctuary for this,” Burk said as he rubbed the goose bumps on his arms. “Nothin’ but dead grass and snow as far as the eye can see. I’m startin’ to think the whole world’s a wasteland.”

  “There are signs of life all around you,” Socrates said as he climbed the ladder and released the latch on the railcar. “If you simply open your eyes to them. Look, a raptor flying over the hill there, closing in on a field mouse or hare, no doubt.”

  Burk snorted and rolled his eyes. “You and I got diff’rent ideas about life, I think.”

  Socrates shoved the door open. It rolled to the side, rumbling and squeaking as the rusty bearings came to life for the first time in centuries. Pale afternoon light washed into the railcar, revealing a cargo of steel pipes, trusses, and brackets, all neatly ordered but covered by dust and cobwebs. Socrates swung himself inside and thumped down heavily on the wooden floor, sending a cloud of dust floating through the air. River reached up, latching onto the edge of the floor, and pulled herself into the car. Burk grumbled as he climbed up the ladder to join them.

  It took Socrates a few hours to sort out the pieces and get them organized. As he did this, River and Burk loaded the parts onto the steamwagon, and then began to erect the crane. Sometime during this process, Micah appeared. In physical appearance, it would have been easy to mistake the halfling for a child. He had a thin build and stood at just under three feet in height, but his long pointed chin, crooked nose, and sharp green eyes belied a much older and wiser, highly intelligent being. Micah was dressed warmly with a long wool jacket, scarf, and gloves. He wore a short, rounded hat with a wide, crooked brim, and he carried a walking stick in one hand. He had a leather satchel thrown over his shoulder. No one noticed the small, imp-like creature until he stood up straight and cleared his throat. They all turned at once.

  “Good morning, cartographer,” Socrates said, looking him up and down. “I gather you’re going on a hike.”

  “I’d like to make some sketches, possibly start a new map,” Micah said, patting his satchel. “If you don’t mind, that is.”

  Socrates glanced at the barren hills stretching out behind the train. “I suppose there’s no harm in it. Perhaps it would be wise to bring a companion along though, considering we have no idea what manner of creatures might roam these plains.”

  “I’ll go!” Kale said. They twisted their heads around to see the stocky warrior sitting on top of the railcar, looking down at them. River narrowed her eyebrows.

  “How long have you been up there?”

  Kale smiled wickedly. “Not long enough.”

  River raised her fist at him, but Socrates was quick to intervene. “Excellent idea, Kale. Grab a musket and take an herb bag with you. Our stocks are running low, and it seems our next hunt will be delayed. See what you can gather, or kill.”

  “My pleasure,” Kale said. He disappeared down the ladder and vanished inside the train. Socrates turned to find River staring at him. He could see from the look on her face that she wanted to join Kale and Micah. Despite all of their bickering and fighting, Socrates knew the two youths were true friends, going all the way back to childhood. At times, they were almost like siblings. He gave her a sympathetic look, or as close to it as his simian features allowed.

  “I’m afraid I can’t let you go, River. You’re my only mechanic, and I need you here.”

  “I understand,” she said, sighing. “Just promise I’ll get to stretch my legs soon. I’ve been cramped up in this train for weeks.”

  “We all have,” Burk said in a gruff voice. “The sooner we get our work done, the sooner we get a rest.”

  River cocked an eyebrow at him. “Who said anything about resting, old man?”

  “Careful girl, I’m not that old,” he said. “Here, unhitch this truss, would you?”

  River laughed as she snatched up a wrench. She threw herself into her work, ignoring Kale and Micah who were disappearing over the hill. She couldn’t help feeling a twinge of jealousy, but River knew she had to do her part to keep the train running. After all, this journey wasn’t just about a simple adventure. It was about saving Socrates’ life. And perhaps thousands of others.

  Socrates -along with most of the technology from Sanctuary-was based on a rare element known as Starfall. It was the source of power for their steam technology and without it, all civilization might be in danger. And without a new supply of Starfall, Socrates would die. That was why the Iron Horse had set out in the first place. But in the meanwhile, River was looking forward to seeing something besides ice and snow. She’d had her fill of the cold. She wanted to see green land and blue mountains, maybe even an ocean. And something else, too. River was looking for something. She wasn’t sure what it was yet, but she felt it every time she looked towards the horizon. Something out there was calling her, and she intended to find out what it was.

  Chapter 2

  Micah waited for Kale atop the hill overlooking the Iron Horse. He was smoking a pipe with a long, sharply curved brass stem and a clay bowl shaped into the likeness of the mythical woodsman, an old man with a wizened face and a long beard that curved down around the base of the bowl. As Micah waited, puffing absent-mindedly on his pipe, he sketched out the scene before him on a rough piece of parchment. The landscape was forlorn and barren, lacking any form of warmth or comfort. The Horse’s rails cut through the frozen earth like a scar stretching into the distance, the cold black steel formidable and unforgiving and somehow fitting in that harsh, bleak environment.

  Up from the rails rose the shape of the Iron Horse, a mass of soot-blackened steel and brass and copper pipes gleaming against black paint, thick columns of smoke rising from the smokestacks along the massive boiler to mingle with the cloud-darkened skies looming overhead. It was a dark scene overall, an image of impending doom and harsh contrasts, and to Micah’s eye, absolutely stunning. It was a moment he felt compelled to capture.

  Micah heard Kale approaching -the sound of his tall boots crunching across the frozen ground, his long blue cloak flapping wildly in the breeze-and hurried to finish the sketch. Mom
ents later, satisfied that the bones of the image at least were in place, Micah rolled up the parchment, tucked it safely into his satchel, and glanced up at his companion. Kale wore a massive broadsword with a gleaming silver pommel strapped to his back and clutched a flute-barreled musket in one hand and a light travel bag in the other. Micah also noted that Kale wore a broad smile on his face. His companion, it seemed, was anxious for an adventure.

  Kale joined Micah on the hilltop and took a long look at the surrounding landscape. He drew his gaze along the railroad tracks racing into the distance, and saw the barely visible line of woods rising out of the earth. His heart leapt at the sight. Like the others, Kale had been trapped aboard the Iron Horse far too long. He needed to see what was in those woods.

  “Not much around here,” Kale said, choosing his words carefully, hoping to guide his companion to a certain conclusion. “All plains and snow. Probably not a plant or animal for miles.”

  “Except what lies ahead,” Micah said cleverly. “Perhaps we should scout up the tracks and take a peek into that forest. For the others, you know. Make sure they won’t be running into any more trouble.”

  “My thoughts exactly,” Kale said with a smile. He shouldered the musket, adjusting it so it wouldn’t interfere with his broadsword, and then pulled his cloak tight around his shoulders. He started down the hill, intentionally choosing a path that took them out of sight of the train, and Micah fell in next to him, somehow matching the much larger man’s pace even as he pulled out another sheet of parchment and began sketching the landscape ahead. Every minute or so, the small fellow dipped his quill into an inkpot attached to his satchel. Kale noticed that his companion switched hands from time to time, hardly missing a beat as he continued to draw and walk at the same time.