The Clockwork God Page 7

  Micah was willing to make the jump and risk getting his feet wet, but unfortunately, the boulder was just out of reach. Micah was an excellent jumper, but doubted seriously that he could jump that far under those conditions. And he really wasn’t a very good swimmer, either. The village of his youth had been high on a mountain, far from the streams and lakes where another child might have learned to swim. He’d seen a boat once; a long birch bark canoe operated by several trolls in a river on the plains, but hadn’t thought about it much at the time. He’d been more worried about trying to stay out of sight. Now he wished he had one. A boat that was, not a troll.

  Micah stooped over slightly, trying to catch a glimpse of what else might lie beneath the surface. One more good-sized stone between the two, and he’d be home free. He saw his image reflected back at him in the choppy surface, and the canopy of trees overhead. He saw the deep blue sky and puffy white clouds drifting slowly across the heavens, mirrored in the movement of the water. Then, just a few feet away, he saw a reflection. Was it a stone? He couldn’t be sure.

  Micah knelt closer, dropping to his knees as he struggled to separate the images reflected on the surface from the submerged objects lurking below. He craned his head to the side. When that failed, he reached out and splashed his hand across the surface in an attempt to break up the reflections; to verify that the stone was actually there and not just an artifact of light and shadow. Perched that way on the edge of the boulder with his arm stretched so far that he was about to topple, Micah had all but guaranteed himself a good soaking.

  With a sudden spray of water, something broke the surface and latched onto his wrist. A horrified squeal erupted from Micah’s throat as he tumbled head over heels and crashed into the water. For a moment, panic swept over him and he could do nothing but thrash violently as he sank into the icy darkness. Micah recognized the grip of the undead creature and it put a greater fear into him than anything he had ever known. He felt the rotting flesh and cold, unyielding bone against his skin. In a frenzied panic, he thrashed and kicked at the unseen enemy, struggled against it for all he was worth.

  Somehow, Micah broke loose of the creature’s grip. Caught up in the current, he bounced and rolled along the stones at the river bottom, hammering into the submerged boulders as the river’s momentum carried him downstream. The sky flashed through his vision, tinted green from the murky water, and hazy rays of light streamed down from above like bands of sunshine frozen in time. Rocks slammed into him, driving the breath from his lungs, and spots swam before his eyes.

  The current swept him sideways, and the eddies carried Micah towards the bank. He slammed into an underwater log and the force of the impact drove the last bubbles of oxygen from his lungs. Micah knew he had only seconds before his body’s natural instincts took over. He clenched his teeth as spasms shook his chest and the muscles in his abdomen contracted, forcing him to inhale. Micah couldn’t fight it any longer. He had to breathe…

  Then, miraculously, he felt the gravelly river bottom under his feet. Micah kicked at the ground and simultaneously pushed away from the log. He broke through the surface with a splash, wheezing and gasping for air, coughing as the water gagged him. He spit the liquid out and sucked in huge gasping breaths of air. Micah wasn’t much of a swimmer, but his instincts took over and kept him afloat. He kicked his legs and paddled his arms, and somehow managing to remain buoyant long enough to catch his breath.

  When at last the ache in his lungs diminished and his senses began to return, Micah turned slowly, treading water as the gentle movement carried him further downstream. All around him, Micah saw the trees and the sky reflected in the choppy surface of the water. Horrifying visions danced through his head of what lurked under the surface. He’d seen the creature. He knew it was down there somewhere. Perhaps there were more!

  Frantically, he began paddling toward the shore.

  *

  River heard Micah’s cries over the roar of the boneshaker’s engine and the rush of wind in her ears. At first, she thought she’d heard a young girl screaming.

  River braked the boneshaker and pulled the pressure lever, letting the excess steam vapors out of the tank. It gave off a momentary hiss and then went silent. She sat there for a moment astride the powerful machine, her senses straining for some indication of what she’d heard. Birds chirped in the branches overhead and swooped through the sky, observing some ancient instinctive mating ritual. The trees swayed, moaning, gusts of wind shaking the tree tops. All around her, River observed the signs of life and vibrancy one might expect in an unspoiled forest. And yet nothing else. Not a sound or movement to indicate what she had heard.

  River decided it must have been her imagination and reached for the pressure valve. With her hand on the lever, she stopped. A painful-sounding gasp came from the woods off to her left. River’s hand went instinctively to her revolver as she scanned the woods along the embankment. The terrain was too dense for the boneshaker to navigate, so River parked the vehicle and hurried towards the sound on foot. Branches slapped at her face and scratched her arms as she plunged into the forest, her revolver still drawn and ready.

  River forced her way through the branches and leapt out onto the embankment. Micah was just a few yards away, climbing the riverbank. Panicked cries emanated out of him, though he didn’t even seem aware of the sounds he was making. He scrambled and splashed up the muddy bank like a man gone insane, driven only by some deep primal fear of whatever lay behind him.

  “Micah!” River yelled as she hurried in his direction. “What happened? Where’s Kale?”

  Micah flinched at the sound of her voice. Then, realizing who it was, he scurried along the bank towards her at full tilt. River reached out to help him climb the edge of the embankment. She caught his hand and pulled him up, lifting the diminutive man off his feet. She set him on dry ground and Micah stood before her shaking, white as a sheet, eyes wide with terror.

  “Go,” he muttered incoherently as he pushed past her. “Must go. Must go!”

  River frowned as she turned to watch Micah race into the woods behind her. She pulled her gaze away from the small man and looked back towards the river. At that very moment, one of the hideous undead corpses came crawling out of the water with a loud splash. The bizarre, mutilated creature latched onto a boulder along the riverbank and drew itself awkwardly upright. It turned slowly, as if listening intently, and then fixed its gaze on her. River’s blood froze as she saw the thing’s grinning deathmask of a face. Its eyes were empty sockets, and the flesh had rotted away, revealing more skull than skin. She lifted her gaze and saw several more along the opposite bank, slowly wading into the water.

  Without thinking, River raised her arm and fired the revolver. The spring action made little more than a clicking sound as she squeezed the trigger, but the explosive eruption of the bullet’s shockwave was almost as loud as a small musket. Her aim was true, and the projectile slammed into the creature’s forehead. The monster’s skull cracked open and a trickle of blood issued forth. The undead thing staggered and dropped onto its back, twitching.

  Just behind it, three more came crawling out of the water. River moved her arm to realign the sights, but then realized the creature she had just shot was moving again. It flopped awkwardly like a beached fish as it struggled to regain its footing. Slowly but surely, the creature rolled onto its belly and crawled back to its knees. Within seconds it was back on its feet, ambling towards her. River turned back to see Micah lurking a few yards back. At last, she fully understood the source of his terror.

  “Now?” he said in a half-whisper.

  River nodded. “Now,” she said breathlessly, and broke into a run.

  They tore into the underbrush, making a beeline for the boneshaker. As they emerged from the trees, River leapt onto the seat and motioned for Micah to crawl on behind her. She cranked down the pressure lever and took a few seconds to show Micah the frame brackets where he could safely stand without catching his leg in th
e wheel. By then the pressure was back up. She gunned the engine, and with a roar, they were gone.

  Micah held on for dear life as they sped across the frozen plains, swiftly climbing the gentle slopes and then nearly taking flight as they glided down the other side. Every time the weightless feeling came over him, Micah’s guts clinched up and he had to fight back the urge to vomit. Any other day, he would have begged River to stop and let him walk. Today, he simply locked his jaw and held on.

  A few minutes later, River hit the brakes and spun in a half circle. They came to rest in a cloud of dust along the railroad tracks, facing back towards the river. The dusty road along the tracks led into the forest a mile ahead, and vanished in the shadows. Other than a few birds circling in the sky overhead, they saw no other signs of life.

  “What were those things?” River said, still trying to catch her breath.

  “They’re dead,” Micah said in a quaking voice. “Living dead things. They walk in those woods.”

  River set her jaw. “Where is Kale?”

  “Back there, in the castle. A few miles up the road-”

  “Get off,” she said. “Follow the tracks back to the train and explain everything to Socrates.”

  “No! River, don’t go back there!”

  “Don’t worry about me. Just get the message to Socrates.”

  “At least take the road,” Micah pleaded. “Don’t go back into those woods.”

  She sighed. “All right, I promise. Now go!”

  She reached for the throttle, but Micah stopped her with a shout. “Wait!” he called out. “River, wait!”

  River pressed her lips together, staring at him. “What is it?”

  “They took my drawings. Will you look for my satchel when you get there?”

  River rolled her eyes and twisted the throttle. Micah stood staring after her as River kicked up a cloud of dust all the way back to the trees. The sound of the boneshaker echoed in the distance as it disappeared across the old wooden bridge, and then it was gone. Silence fell over the land. Then, as if Micah suddenly realized he was alone and in the open, he turned back down the tracks and began to run, the dull pain of his ankle now barely noticeable and certainly not enough to slow the small man’s pace.

  Chapter 10

  River didn’t encounter any more of the undead creatures along the way, but she did find the castle heavily guarded upon her arrival. The portcullis was closed, and River slammed on the brakes as she roared up to the entryway. The boneshaker’s rear tire skidded sideways, throwing rocks and dirt into the air, kicking up a cloud of dust that slowly drifted into the forest around her as the boneshaker’s steam engine rumbled quietly.

  Half a dozen men stood facing her, armed with spears and swords. Twice that number roamed back and forth along the top of the wall. Instead of spears, they carried longbows and crossbows. Two of the guards cautiously approached, eyeing the boneshaker like some sort of demon. Judging from the looks on their faces, she had frightened them. They didn’t know what to think of her, or of her vehicle. That gave River a certain advantage. Even so, she had to be cautious. The last thing she needed was a crossbow bolt through the chest. She pushed the kickstand down and stepped off the boneshaker, watching them closely. As she moved, the two guards tensed up and brandished their spears. River displayed her empty hands.

  “Who are you?” one of guards demanded. He was a middle aged man with graying hair and steel blue eyes. His companion was younger and his hair darker, but otherwise shared similar features. River watched them for a moment, sizing them up. They were emaciated, pale of skin and dark around the eyes. Their uniforms were worn, disheveled, and showing patchwork in several places, like clothes that had not only been worn for a lifetime, but had been passed down from one generation to the next. Even their long gray cloaks were weathered and tattered around the edges, and covered with stains and patches. Their weapons were similarly neglected. The shafts of their spears were aged and cracked; the tips sharpened but covered in rust. The same with their swords, and with the weapons of the men on the wall.

  “My name is River,” she said calmly. “I have come here seeking my companion, a dark-haired warrior named Kale.”

  “Are you a Keeper?” the younger man said.

  “A Keeper? What do you mean?”

  The guard nodded at the boneshaker. “You journey on the back of a God. You keep his word, do you not?”

  River grinned skeptically, not sure if the man was serious. She patted the boneshaker’s headlamp. “The boneshaker is not a god, it’s a machine. It is powered by steam.”

  “She’s a heretic,” his older companion said.

  “But her… machine.” The younger guard glanced meaningfully at the boneshaker. “This cannot be. It is a test.”

  “This is a matter for the Keeper,” said the second. He looked River up and down. “Come with us.”

  River frowned. That was a command, not a request. She resisted the urge to reach for her revolver. Obviously, they didn’t understand it was a weapon or they probably would have disarmed her already. It was better for now not to attract their attention to it. For the moment, it made sense to go along peacefully, but she bristled at the thought.

  “What of my companion?” she said. “Have you seen him or not?” The guards exchanged a glance.

  “He is here. You will see him, in time. First you must speak to the Keeper.”

  “Who is the Keeper?”

  “Keeper Toolume is the Keeper of the Word, of course.”

  River started to reply but the older guard silenced her by raising his hand. “You will understand everything in time. Please, follow us.”

  River nodded her acceptance. The guards signaled for the portcullis to be opened, and they ducked under it as it reached waist-height. River followed them through, and the men on the wall quickly lowered it behind her. On the other side, the guards led River around a protective stone wall that guarded the face of the portcullis from the spears and arrows of invaders. The passageway opened up and River found herself facing the town called Blackstone.

  Ancient buildings rose up around her, scattered throughout the area as if they had been cast in their places at random by some archaic god. Narrow alleys and cobbled streets wound between thatch-roofed cottages and two and three story buildings that looked like inns or official government buildings. They were all in similar states of disrepair: the thatched roofs were rotten and collapsing, the paint peeling or altogether gone, and most of the windows were broken or shuttered. The wooden frames on the doors and windows were riddled with termites and crumbling with dry rot.

  River saw the keep in the distance, rising over the rooftops. It was a tall stone castle located in the northwestern corner of the town, flanked by two tall towers that commanded views of both the city and the surrounding countryside. She also noticed a set of railroad tracks running along the street in front of the keep and through the town square. They disappeared into an opening in the far section of the wall, which had been crudely boarded up.

  The peasants who paused in their work to stare at her as she passed by were gaunt and pale, and even the very young children appeared to be terribly malnourished. Their clothes were in tatters, even worse than the soldiers’ uniforms, and many of them had rotten teeth. They seemed to lack even the most basic knowledge of hygiene or nutrition. River gave them pitying looks, which they met with cold hard stares.

  The soldiers guided River around the well at the center of town, where she observed a crowd of women and children washing and mending clothes, and collecting water for their homes. She balked at their destitute poverty.

  “Everyone here is so thin,” she remarked. “Don’t you have enough food?”

  “We survive,” one of the soldiers said.

  “But I don’t understand. You’re surrounded by this forest. You could hunt, farm… your people don’t have to live like this.”

  “The forest belongs to the Ancients,” he said impatiently. “Be silent now. No mor
e questions.”

  His words sounded vaguely like an order and River stiffened ever so slightly. She wasn’t accustomed to taking orders from anyone. She cast a glance over her shoulder to see if any of the other guards had followed, and found they had not. For all their show, it was obvious that none of the soldiers truly knew what they were doing. That at least was a small comfort.

  She took a deep breath and relaxed, comfortable in the knowledge that the two guards couldn’t possibly overwhelm her. If necessary, she’d deal with them and then disappear over the wall before the rest of the guards could even react. That would be an action of last resort, of course. Her first priority was to find Kale and, if at all possible, get him out of there.

  At last they reached the keep. The guards led River up the stairs and through the massive wooden doors that stood open at the front of the building. On the way inside, River noticed a wide set of metal rails embedded into the floor, leading into the darkness of the hall. River’s eyes still hadn’t adjusted to the darkened interior of the keep, and she could only see that they were facing a large room, probably some sort of court.

  An elderly man in heavy, light colored robes greeted them. He had a long gray beard and wore his long hood pulled down over his face. He tilted his head sideways, eyeing River up and down, but didn’t say a word.

  “We’ve found another intruder,” one of the guards said. “Inform the Keeper.” The man nodded and then vanished down a long hallway. The guard turned back to his companion. “Remain here until the Keeper is ready, then return to your post.”