The Clockwork God Page 3

  “Huh?”

  “Look at the ground. No undergrowth, no shrubs. Somebody still uses this road.”

  “You’re right! That means we’re close to a city!”

  “Maybe. Let’s not get our hopes up. But if I know anything about those creatures back there, it’s that they’ll stay away from well-traveled roads.”

  Micah frowned. “Kale, what do you know about those creatures?”

  “Nothing,” Kale admitted. “I’ve never seen anything like that in my life.”

  “I’ve heard of it, in legends,” Micah said. “The dead rise from their graves if you disturb their rest. Sometimes to seek justice.”

  “It wasn’t me that disturbed them. Someone had already broken the chains on that crypt.”

  “Something is wrong with that place,” Micah said with a shiver.

  “There’s nothing else for it,” Kale said. “Not ‘til dawn.” He opened his bag and pulled out a loaf of bread, along with some dried venison and slightly moldy cheese. Micah gave him an incredulous look.

  “How can you think of eating at a time like this? After what we just saw?” His burly companion shrugged.

  “Learn to eat when you can,” he said, “or risk not eating at all.”

  Micah considered that and realized there was a certain logic to it. “Now that you mention it, I am a bit hungry.”

  Kale divided the portions and handed Micah his share. He took a big bite of bread and chewed it slowly. “I should’ve brought a canteen. To think we’re this close to the river and not a drop to drink. I need it, after that run.”

  Micah fumbled around in his bag for a moment and produced a small wineskin. “Will this do?” he said, displaying it to his companion. Kale grinned broadly.

  “My friend, you can join me on a hunt any time you like.”

  Micah doubled over, laughing so hard he could hardly catch his breath. Kale watched him curiously, wondering if he’d just been insulted. At last, Micah straightened himself out with a sigh.

  “And just what do you find so amusing?” Kale said with a narrow grin.

  “I just remembered what we were supposed to be doing. I’d forgotten the whole reason for our hike was so that you could hunt.”

  “So much for that,” Kale said. “I guess you were right. I never should have gone into that tomb.”

  “Just out of curiosity… what did you see in there?”

  Kale stared into the distance, recalling the images in his memory. “The crypt was huge. At the bottom of the stairs, it opened up into a massive cave filled with coffins. I had my flint and steel handy, so I lit a torch and went inside to look around. The first thing I noticed was that a lot of the coffins had been opened. I looked inside a few, and they were empty. While I was looking around, I heard a noise up ahead and thought I saw a flash of light, so I went to investigate. That’s when I turned a corner and found myself face-to-face with those… things.”

  “So those creatures we saw… they truly were the dead, then?”

  “I only know what my eyes saw.”

  “Trust your eyes then,” said Micah. “I saw them, too.”

  Micah shuddered and turned his head as if he could turn away from the haunting visions in his mind. He took a swig from the wineskin and fixed his gaze on Kale. “I was just wondering, why didn’t you just kill those creatures with that huge sword of yours? You seem to know how to handle a weapon.”

  “Don’t think I didn’t try. I hacked one’s arm off and he just kept coming. He didn’t even feel it. So I hacked off his leg. The thing fell down on the ground and came crawling after me. You have to take off their heads. By the time I figured that out, there were just too many.”

  Micah licked his lips dryly. “I see… just how many were there?”

  Kale took a big bite of jerked meat. “You don’t want to know,” he said around his food.

  Micah stared at him. “Kale, what happened to your musket?”

  “I dropped it in the tomb. Never got a shot off. Just as well, I suppose. I think noise attracts their attention.”

  Micah took a swig from the wineskin and stared back down the road anxiously. “Socrates won’t like that,” he muttered.

  “Then Socrates can go get it,” Kale grumbled.

  Chapter 4

  River and her companions spent the rest of the afternoon and most of the evening assembling the crane, and then maneuvering it into place along the tracks. By then it was dark, and Socrates called for a dinner break. The cook and his helpers had set up collapsible tables outside the dining car so to serve the crew under the open sky. They lit the area with a few torches and a small bonfire that offered comfort and light, though neither were truly necessary. The flickering firelight gave the area a pleasant ambience, but the wind had died down and the moon was already high in the sky, and nearly full.

  What lifted their moods most was when Socrates thumped a keg of ale down on one of the tables and hammered a tap into it. A cheer went up all around the camp. A line immediately formed, and Socrates began filling their tankards. Before long, the somber mood had lifted and the air was buzzing with lively conversations. A few of the workers even broke out singing while they drank.

  River wasn’t fond of ale and cared even less for standing in line. She helped herself to a steaming bowl of stew and a freshly baked dinner roll, and joined Burk who was sitting alone at one of the tables. The older man had already finished his meal as well as his first tankard of ale. He was eyeing the line at the keg as River settled down across the table.

  “Your friend must have run into trouble,” Burk said as she joined him. “He’s still not back.”

  River glanced around the area and realized Burk was talking about Kale.

  “He probably wandered further than he meant to,” she said. “Knowing Kale, he’ll sleep under the stars tonight and we’ll have to hold the train up in the morning because he overslept.”

  Burk laughed. “Kale left with Micah. The little one might convince him to come back tonight.”

  “Don’t count on it. Kale’s as stubborn as a mule and twice as lazy. If Micah comes back tonight, he’ll come back alone.”

  “I doubt that’ll happen,” said Burk. “The little one’s scared of his own shadow.”

  “Maybe.”

  “Maybe? Don’t tell me you haven’t noticed, Micah’s as skittish as a field mouse.”

  River leaned forward on her elbows. “Of course I have. But I keep thinking about where we found him, hundreds of miles from nowhere, all alone in the Wastes. If we hadn’t stopped to hunt those deer, we wouldn’t even have found Micah. If it had been any one of us, they’d have found a frozen corpse. Micah might be small, but it takes something special to survive alone in the Wastes like that. I know, I’ve made the journey from the Blackrocks to Sanctuary on foot. I think there’s more to him than meets the eye.”

  Burk stroked his beard. “From what I heard, he came from a village in the east Blackrocks. It does take some daring to get that far alone. Or at least some proper motivation.”

  “Motivation? What do you mean by that?”

  Burk leaned closer and lowered his voice.

  “Maybe he wasn’t alone.”

  “What are you saying?”

  “Maybe he just ended up alone, if you know what I mean.”

  River raised an eyebrow and grinned slightly. “Are you implying he killed someone?”

  “Just thinkin’ aloud,” Burk said, leaning back. “For instance, why would the little fellow run so far from home, all alone like that? Maybe he left his troubles behind, that’s why.”

  “So now you have him running away from a crime? That’s a lot of speculation, Burk,” River said. “Maybe Micah was just working on his maps and got lost. Wouldn’t that make more sense?”

  “It might,” Burk said with a wicked grin, “but it ain’t near as much fun. Besides, it’s good to know where we stand with our mates. Now, take old Socrates for example: What’s his motivation?”

&nbs
p; River frowned. “We already know what his motivation is. He needs more Starfall, or he’ll die. You might say the same for the rest of us, considering. Look how dependent we are on steam power now. We weren’t like that before. If we lose our energy source now, I’d wager that thousands will die the first winter.”

  “Aye, perhaps, perhaps. But if you ask me, Socrates was in a awful hurry to get out of Sanctuary. Makes you wonder what they’ll find when they start going through all those big empty buildings back in the city, doesn’t it? Maybe they’re not so empty, eh?”

  “Not at all,” River said, laughing. “I already explored some of them. Tell me Burk, what do you think they’ll find?”

  He shrugged and tipped his tankard back, patiently waiting for the last drop of ale to fall on his tongue. “Maybe they’ll find out what really happened to all the people that used to live in that city,” he said, gazing up into the empty container.

  “You’ve put a lot of thought into this conspiracy theory, haven’t you?”

  “I’ve had a lot of time to think. Ain’t nothin’ else to do on this damn train.”

  “Have you been talking about this with the others?”

  “Hasn’t been nothin’ else to do, ‘cept play cards and drink. But Socrates won’t let us have more than one drink a day, and I ran out of money weeks ago. So where does that leave us?”

  “Gossiping like a flock of old hens, I guess,” River said. “You might put your time to better use.”

  “True, true. I won’t deny it’s all just so much talk. Still, you’ve got to wonder about some of the people on this train. Think about it: It hadn’t been two weeks since the Tal’mar airships decimated the Vangar sky-city when this train pulled out of Sanctuary. Hell, their corpses were hardly even cold.”

  “What’s your point?”

  “What was the hurry? Why were all these people in such a hurry to get out in the wilderness, when they could’ve stayed back in Sanctuary and had every comfort known to man?”

  “I don’t know… What was your hurry, Burk?”

  Burk laughed and winked at her. “Aha! Smart girl. But I think it’s time for me to get back to work now.”

  “Uh-huh.”

  Burk gathered his dishes and River watched as he handed them over to the cook’s helper and went lumbering back towards the crane. She didn’t take much stock in Burk’s conspiracies, but River couldn’t help wondering how many of the others aboard the Iron Horse had been entertaining the same thoughts. If it hadn’t been for her conversation with Burk, it never even would have occurred to River to suspect the other crewmembers. Especially Socrates.

  River finished her meal in silence, staring at the hills around the train. It didn’t please her that Kale was out there somewhere, probably having the time of his life. River had volunteered to take on the duties of the train’s mechanic, but she hadn’t visualized it quite this way. If she’d spoken up sooner, maybe she would’ve ended up being the hunter, instead of Kale. Then again, hunting wasn’t all that pleasant, either. There were certain disadvantages to being the hunter, especially when it was freezing cold and the entire crew was starving, and they expected you to provide something to fill their bellies.

  No, River didn’t want that responsibility. The truth was, she was happiest tinkering with the train’s mechanical systems and helping Socrates with his projects. That was the work she found most interesting. Besides, it gave her the opportunity to work on some projects of her own without anyone prying into her business. Still, she couldn’t help but feel like she was missing out on something. She wondered what Kale and Micah were doing out there in the darkness.

  Being an automaton, Socrates didn’t actually require sustenance. He’d helped serve dinner and divvy out portions of ale, but had disappeared shortly after that. When River had finished her meal, she wandered up to the crane at the front of the locomotive and found Socrates there with Burk. They had activated the Horse’s crude electric headlamps to light the work area.

  The Iron Horse had a few electrical conveniences, just like Sanctuary, but nothing fantastic. The engineers had already mastered steam power by the time they discovered electricity, therefore the technology had never been refined. Crude motors, generators, and electric lamps were available, but none were particularly common or effective.

  River took over operating the crane and began to move the boulders while Socrates stood off to the side and directed her. Burk used his considerable strength to move the smaller rocks by hand, and used an iron pipe to leverage the larger ones to where River could better grasp them with the crane. This went on until well after midnight. Eventually, Socrates signaled for her to lower the crane.

  “That’s enough for today,” he said. “We’ll start again at first light.”

  “We’re not half-done yet,” River said. “Let’s finish it!”

  Socrates shook his head. “You’re half-delirious with exhaustion already. I shouldn’t have let you work this long.”

  “But a few more hours-” River started.

  “-A few more hours will gain us nothing, and could cost us everything. One careless move could ruin this crane, and then where would we be? No, that risk is not acceptable. Go to your bunkrooms and rest. Replenish your strength. We will continue tomorrow.”

  River begrudgingly accepted his order. Technically, Socrates did have authority over the rest of the crew. It was his train, after all. But authority was the last reason River would follow anyone. She still wore the Vangar slave collar around her throat to remind her that those who crave authority most rarely deserve it.

  Her thoughts flashed back to Lord Rutherford, the abomination of a man who had betrayed her people to the Vangars. The invaders had repaid Rutherford’s loyalty by repairing his body with mechanical parts powered by steam, and then made him the ruler of the capital city. Rutherford used his power and strength to do unspeakable things to people, especially to women. His preferred type had been the small and delicate Tal’mar females, but for some reason he’d taken a special interest in River.

  To this day, River had never spoken about the things Rutherford did to her. But she kept the memories fresh in her mind, and the slave collar around her throat helped her with that. River had sworn to kill any man who tried to dominate her that way again. One man on the Horse hadn’t taken that oath seriously, until River knocked out a few of his teeth. He hadn’t looked her in the eye since.

  Somehow, Socrates was different. River followed Socrates not because of his authority, but because of his wisdom; because of the fact that although he wasn’t human, Socrates was the smartest person she’d ever met. Except for Tinker perhaps, but Tinker was long dead and his mind had been gone for some time before he finally ended his life in one desperate act to save her. If there was any creature left in the world worth following, River had decided it was Socrates. He had her undying loyalty, and that was a rare and powerful thing.

  River returned to her cabin so exhausted that she fell asleep the instant she turned down the lantern. She woke to the sound of hammering. It wasn’t the reverberating sound of a hammer against an anvil, but more like the steady drip of a leaking faucet, followed by a light, bell-like ringing. The sound infiltrated her dreams at first, changing things, distracting her mind, slowly luring her thoughts back to reality. After a few seconds, her eyelids fluttered open and she found herself in darkness. Judging by the path of the moon outside her window, she’d only been asleep for an hour or so.

  River was tempted to roll over and go back to sleep, but curiosity got the best of her. Perhaps it was the simple fact that the crew of the Iron Horse was stranded in the middle of uncharted territories, and they were at the mercy of the Fates. If the train became damaged it could take weeks to repair, or if some strange creature or tribe decided to attack them, half the crew might be dead before anyone even woke.

  The thought of some anonymous tribal native sneaking into her cabin to slit her throat was more than enough to get River moving. She threw back the cove
rs and quickly pulled on her boots. She took the spring-powered revolver she had inherited from her mother from the holster hanging on her bedpost, and slipped out into the hall. She saw a light in the next car, and heard the ringing sound coming from that direction.

  River stealthed her way down the walkway, across the flexible platform that separated the cars. The platform was a cleverly designed iron grating that could collapse in on itself or stretch out to several times its length. This allowed passengers to easily traverse from one car to the next while the train was in motion, even when taking corners or climbing hills. To make the journey even more convenient, many of the cars were connected by flexible canvas covers, so passengers wouldn’t even have to step out into the cold.

  Revolver in hand, River quietly opened the door to the next railcar and slipped inside. This was the engineering car. River was familiar with it because she had used many of the tools in the workshop. Also, one of the first things River had done after taking up residence on the Horse was to explore every nook and cranny of the train she could get into. That was no small task, considering that each car was the size of a small house, many were two stories tall, and the train was more than half a mile in length.

  The Horse was so wide that it required two sets of tracks upon which to travel. Socrates had once explained that when initially designed, it was the Iron Horse’s purpose to lay track into new territories and establish routes that would later be used by two smaller trains, one coming and the other going. Bunk cars like the one River lived in held up to eight small apartments, some of them with multiple bunks. River, being one of the first people on board, had chosen one of the larger rooms with only one bed for herself.

  She followed the noise to the workshop door and peered inside. Socrates was there, sitting on a stool at a workbench, working on some tiny piece of machinery that River didn’t recognize. She stepped into the room and cleared her throat. Socrates glanced up at her and smiled apologetically.

  “Ah, forgive me… did I wake you?”