The Clockwork God Page 4

  Rather than tell the truth and risk hurting his feelings, River just shrugged. “What are you working on?”

  Socrates climbed off the stool and made a gesture indicating she should take a look. River stepped closer to examine the tiny mechanism. What she found was a tiny metal device resting on a pedestal. It appeared to be a flat copper disk surrounded by brass rings of various sizes. She touched it with one finger, and the outer ring rotated in a gentle circle. The copper plate in the center remained in a fixed, upright position.

  “What is it?” she said.

  “It’s an ancient technology known as a gyroscope.”

  “What does it do?”

  “Just what you have observed,” Socrates said. He tapped it, spinning all three outer rings at once. “It preserves balance, and at the same time measures angles. Imagine this mounted on a ship or a gyroplane… the pilot would know whether he was turning, climbing, or descending even if he could only see clouds around him.”

  “My mother could have used this,” Breeze said. “But I don’t understand. Why do you have it? What good is it on a train?”

  “Not much, for the train itself. However, for some of us…” He winked and tapped his head. The hard metal thudded quietly under the simulated dark blue fur.

  “You?” she said.

  “Correct. I have one of these inside me. It helps my inner mechanisms calculate speed, direction, and balance. Without it, I would be useless.”

  River stared at the device with new appreciation. “I didn’t realize you were so…”

  “Delicate?” Socrates said with a smile. “Perhaps. But not much more so than any other creature. A human body is full of delicate, finely tuned organs. A failure of just one of them can ruin the entire system. In fact, one ancient manuscript I’ve read claims that humans have a tiny organ inside their ears that is filled with liquid, and performs the exact function of a gyroscope.”

  “Impossible,” River said with a snort. “Humans don’t work that way. We’re not machines.”

  “Not exactly, but the theory is similar. As you move, the liquid in your ear moves inside this tiny organ, telling your brain what your body is doing. All of this happens automatically, without you being aware of it.”

  River rolled her eyes. “I’ve had water in my ears before, Socrates. I know exactly what it feels like.”

  Socrates grinned. “I’m sure you do… nonetheless, consider this: How many times does your heart beat in a minute? Or an hour? How many breaths do you take?”

  “I don’t know. I never counted them.”

  “And why should you? These things happen within you, mechanically. You don’t need to dedicate a moment of thought to making your heart beat. Your body takes care of it for you, so you may worry about more important things.”

  River lifted the device, turning it over in her hands, watching that copper plate. No matter how she turned it, the plate remained upright, even when she moved it quickly.

  “It’s beautiful,” she said, admiring the gyroscope. “It looks more like a piece of jewelry than a tool.”

  “Beautiful but delicate. If any of those wires twisted, or the plate bent ever so slightly, the gyroscope would fail. You may keep that one if you like. I have several more. You may want to acquaint yourself with it, if you’re to learn how to maintain some of the sophisticated devices you’ll encounter on this train.”

  “Such as?”

  “All in due time,” Socrates said, smiling.

  Chapter 5

  Micah was a light sleeper by nature. He hadn’t really expected to sleep at all after the encounter they’d had earlier that evening. He was sure the haunting memories of those bizarre walking corpses would keep him up all night. Eventually though, exhaustion overwhelmed his fears and he finally managed to doze off, but his dreams were tormented -not only by images of those vile undead creatures-but also by the sound of Kale’s snoring. The infernal noise woke Micah several times every hour. Each time, Micah reached out to punch Kale in the arm or pinch his nose, causing Kale to snort and roll over before falling back into a deep sleep. After a short period of silence, the snoring would resume, and Micah -just as he was drifting back to sleep-would waken abruptly and have to repeat the entire process.

  At some point in the middle of the night, Micah half-woke and reached out to give his companion a shove to silence the snoring. Strangely, his hand found only empty air. Micah’s dreams melted away as he touched the ground and felt warm foliage and moss next to him. Kale wasn’t there. Apparently, his companion had moved to a different location.

  Micah opened his eyes and blinked away the sleepiness. Through the branches overhead, he caught glimpses of bright shimmering stars and a deep midnight blue sky. A slight breeze rustled through the treetops. A few yards away, Kale’s snoring rattled on, unperturbed. No, there was something wrong with that, Micah realized. The ground was still warm where Kale had been sleeping. Could Kale have moved so far away, and begun snoring again while the ground was still warm? Something about the situation didn’t seem right.

  That was all it took. The memory of those horrific creatures returned, and Micah immediately knew any hope for sleep was gone for the rest of the night. He slowly and cautiously pushed himself upright, his eyes boring through the darkness in the direction of the snoring. He saw a figure there, something long and flat lying across the middle of the road. The sound emanating from the creature was not snoring, he realized with considerable horror, but wheezing and grunting.

  A frantic fear came over him and Micah swung his head left and right, looking for an escape. The creature in the road seemed to sense his movement. It raised its head, turning slowly to face him, and a ray of moonlight fell over the creature’s face, revealing rotting flesh, exposed yellowish teeth, and empty eye sockets. A whimper escaped Micah’s throat and he pushed himself back. He found himself pressed up against the stump.

  Micah’s noise fixated the corpse’s attention. It pulled itself around and began crawling in his direction, the tattered remains of its internal organs trailing behind it like a string of sausages. This, Micah realized, must be the creature that Kale had dismembered in the crypt on the hill. Micah didn’t understand how the creature could see him at first, but then he realized it was the noise he had made… somehow, even though the creature’s eyes had rotted out of its skull, it could still hear -and possibly smell-him.

  Micah frantically began climbing the trunk, hoping to get out of the creature’s reach. He made it halfway up before his feet slipped on the slick mossy surface and his legs went out from underneath him. As he fell, Micah struck his chin on the edge of the stump on the way down. He grunted and a shiver of terror crawled down his spine as Micah realized how much noise he’d just made. The creature was now just a few yards away and headed straight for him. Viscous green drool slathered over its chin, and guttural moaning sounds erupted forth from the corpse’s throat. It clicked its rotten teeth together uncontrollably, as if it were so anxious to chew on his flesh that it was already starting without him.

  Micah pushed to his feet and jumped again. The corpse lurched forward, lunging, reaching with one long decaying arm. Micah squirmed and kicked, grunting as he pulled his waistline over the edge of the stump, and the corpse’s long fingernails grazed his pant leg.

  As Micah pulled his legs out of reach, the creature hissed and grunted like an animal, its bony fingers and claw-like nails scratching around the base of the stump. Micah leapt to his feet. In all the excitement, he’d somehow remembered to throw his satchel over his shoulder. Thankfully, he still had it with him. He considered hurling it at the creature and almost cried out at the very thought. For Micah, the permanent loss of his precious maps and drawings was nearly equal to the horror of being eaten alive by an animated corpse. He couldn’t imagine which would be worse.

  Micah turned, surveying the road, calculating whether he might be able to jump over the thing and run for safety. It was then that he realized the creature was not alone. J
ust a few yards down the road, half a dozen more lurched and staggered towards him, their hideous faces flashing in the silvery moonlight.

  Micah heard a whooshing sound off to his right, and spun around just in time to see the flash of a sword blade arcing through the air. It sliced effortlessly past him and through the neck of the thing crawling at his feet, instantly beheading the creature. The blade chopped into the stump like an axe as the corpse’s head rolled through the grass. Kale stepped forward, placing his foot on the stump, and yanked his sword free.

  “Come on,” he whispered. “Crawl onto my back.”

  At that point, Micah was well beyond the indignity of being carried piggyback like a child. At any rate, it couldn’t have been worse than being thrown over Kale’s shoulder again. Kale sheathed his sword in the scabbard over his shoulder and turned his back. Micah leapt on, throwing his arms around the warrior’s neck.

  Kale stepped onto the road and broke into a run, holding Micah’s legs to support his lightweight companion. They hadn’t gone ten steps when another creature lurched out of the woods in front of them. Kale twisted frantically, reaching for his sword. Sensing the danger, Micah released his grip and dropped to the ground. He landed sideways, twisting his ankle. An involuntary yelp escaped his lips.

  Kale drew his sword and Micah watched in horrified fascination as his sinewy companion raised the blade and brought it down in one swift movement, neatly decapitating the corpse. The headless body stood there, rocking back and forth, not quite realizing it was no longer whole. Kale kicked it in the chest, and the foul thing tumbled to the ground. He turned back to Micah, gesturing for his companion to follow.

  Micah crawled unsteadily to his feet. Kale took off at a run and Micah hurried after him, limping as jolts of pain shot up and down his injured leg. As he passed the corpse, the awful thing reached out for his leg. Micah let out a cry and broke into a run, ignoring the pain in his ankle.

  The two companions easily outdistanced their slow moving attackers, but soon both were panting with exhaustion. Micah paused to rest for a few minutes, and showed Kale his ankle.

  “It’s swollen alright,” the warrior said grimly. “I don’t think anything’s broken, though. You should keep your weight off it as much as possible.”

  “I left my walking stick behind,” Micah said.

  Kale considered that. “Climb onto my back. I’ll carry you.”

  “That’s how I got hurt in the first place,” Micah said, pushing awkwardly to his feet. “Help me find a crutch.”

  Kale hurried into the trees at the side of the road and found a suitable branch. Using his dagger, it only took a minute to shape the thing to a size appropriate for Micah’s stature. Micah put the crook of the branch under his armpit and tried to walk. He made a few unsteady steps and then quickly got the hang of it.

  “This will do,” he said. “Let’s get moving.”

  “Here, give me your bag. That’ll make it easier to walk.”

  “No, I’ll manage, thank you. I’d rather you kept your sword-arm free. I don’t want anymore of those creatures surprising us.”

  After that they hurried on, neither one having any idea where they were going or when they would be able to stop. For the time, all that mattered was that they were moving, and hopefully doing so more quickly than their horrifying pursuers.

  A few miles up the road, Micah pointed out distant lights in the woods off to their left.

  “There!” he said. “What is that?”

  “Will-o’-wisps,” Kale said. “I’ve heard of them.”

  “Willow-what?”

  “Wisps… fairy creatures that steal children. Never follow them into the woods at night.”

  “Is that so?” Micah said, pointing at the other side of the road.

  There, rising out of the embankment along the trees, stood a sign. It was little more than an old rotting piece of lumber shaped like a crude arrow, with the name “Blackstone,” burned across the front. It pointed to the left. Kale glanced at it and then turned, scanning the darkness ahead.

  “A fork in the road,” he said. “There must be a town.”

  “Are you sure?” Micah said sarcastically. “Perhaps it’s a fairy village.”

  “Very funny,” said Kale as he went stomping towards the fork.

  The road made a few gentle turns as it meandered in the direction of the lights, and then the forest abruptly gave way to a broad clearing. They found themselves looking upon a castle. The outer wall was two stories high, and only the towers and the roof of the keep were visible beyond. The portcullis was down, barring anyone from entering or exiting the inner grounds.

  “I don’t see anyone up there,” Kale whispered, scanning the top of the wall. “No guards or watchmen.”

  “Ho there!” Micah called out. “Let us in!”

  Kale shot Micah a dark look, and sighed heavily.

  “What?” Micah said.

  “Now the whole forest knows we’re here, fool.”

  “I hope so. I don’t plan to spend the rest of the night out here with them.”

  “Are you sure? We don’t even know if these people are friendly. What if the townsfolk are them?”

  Micah gulped as he considered that. He took a few steps back and looked up and down the wall. “Maybe we could climb up and take a look,” he said, his voice considerably more subdued this time.

  “Not without a rope. Those stones are smooth as glass.”

  Kale heard a noise and spun, his hand instinctively reaching for his sword. A chill crawled down his spine as he recognized the distant lumbering shapes moving through the darkened woods up the road. It was bizarre, watching them move. The creatures were slow and plodding, but seemingly tireless. How many miles had they followed the two adventurers already? Ten, he realized, considering how many hours they’d spent traveling. Possibly closer to twelve, and yet still they came, determined as rabid bloodhounds.

  “Well done,” he grumbled. “You’ve brought the whole group down on us.”

  Micah raced up to the portcullis and frantically began pounding on it. “Let us in!” he cried. “Is someone there? Let us in!”

  Kale, rather than being caught in the press against the wall, rushed forward to greet the oncoming mob. The nearest creature was a tall fellow that wore the unmistakable garb of a noble. Rings and jewels glittered on the creature’s fingers, and a long velvet cloak adorned the monster’s shoulders. In life, Kale realized, the man must have been important.

  Behind the creature, more of the undead poured out of the woods. Chattering and moaning sounds erupted from their rotting chests as they zeroed in on their prey. Kale raised his sword and took a broad overhand swing at the undead noble. His sword arced down toward the creature’s neck for a swift beheading, and at the same instant, Kale heard a voice cry out from behind him:

  “Stop! Wait!”

  Kale’s sword found its mark. In one fell swoop he cleaved the noble’s head clean from its neck. He turned, instinctively thrusting his blade into the belly of the nearest creature. He removed the weapon with a grunt and followed up with a powerful swing that split the creature’s head in two. It dropped to the ground, and lay there, legs moving slightly as if they hadn’t quite severed their connection to the brain. To make sure the job was finished, Kale took one more swing, severing the monster’s neck.

  “Look out!” Micah shouted behind him.

  Kale saw a flicker of movement in the corner of his eye and heard footfalls accompanied by the sound of heavy breathing. He turned, brandishing his sword defensively, but found that the rest of the undead were still yards away. A lasso appeared out of the darkness and closed around his throat. Kale lashed out, trying to sever the rope, but his attacker yanked on it and pulled him off balance.

  Kale turned awkwardly, staggering, struggling to hold the point of the sword high as dark shapes loomed around him. He swung wildly and his sword clanged against steel. His attackers jerked the rope again, pulling him off balance, and he stum
bled. Kale dropped to one knee, and someone closed in behind and struck him solidly on the back of the head. Kale saw stars. He reached for the rope with his free hand, trying to loosen it from his neck, and swung the blade wildly in broad circles, hoping to fend off his attackers for a few more seconds. In the distance, he heard Micah cry out.

  Kale raised his gaze to see his small companion being carried over a man’s shoulders. They disappeared through the now partially-open portcullis. Kale jabbed the point of his broadsword into the ground in an attempt to push to his feet. As he did, a tall figure appeared next to him. Kale had a split second to take in the hawk-like features of a man with dark eyes and a week’s worth of beard stubble. Then a fist struck him solidly between the eyes and the world went dark.

  Chapter 6

  Micah gasped as cold water splashed across his face. He blinked and instinctively tried to throw up his arms, but found his hands were bound behind his back. He shook his head, trying to clear his vision, and saw dancing flames rising up before him.

  “What is your name?”

  It was a man’s voice, deep and controlled. It whispered out of the darkness like velvet sliding across satin. Micah blinked, trying to see through the haze of incense and the flames. A row of urns separated him from some sort of tall, bizarre-looking machinery at the front of the room. The machine appeared to be mostly made of iron, but he caught glimpses of brass gears and copper pipes weaving in and out along the framework. He twisted, struggling against the bonds that held him in his chair, and the tip of a sword appeared and pressed to his throat.

  “Don’t make me repeat myself,” the voice said.

  “Micah. My name is Micah. I’m from a village in the west.”

  “And who brought you here?”

  “I came alone!”

  “Liar!” someone shouted behind him. The sword point pressed closer, biting into his flesh. Micah grimaced.

  “Stay your hand,” the voice said. “There is no benefit in destroying this tiny creature. Bring the wine.”