by Phil Foglio
“How dare you,” Agatha said. “You’re still trying to subdue me?”
“Yes, I am!” This time Gil simply tried to smack her. But months of training allowed her to block the intended blow. “Because I have no choice!” Again he attacked, but even as she spun out of his grasp, Agatha realized yet again that something was wrong. She had seen Gil fight. Had seen him take down Captain Vole and, yet fighting her now, his moves were clumsy and obvious. She looked at his face and saw it was a study in frustration. Not at her, she realized, but with himself. He saw her looking at him and his eyes pleaded with her. “My father wants you dead. He’s only giving me this one last chance to try to save you. I want to rescue you!”
Even as he was saying this, Agatha saw his head was shaking from side to side, indicating “no.” Something is seriously wrong here, she realized.
“I do not need rescuing. I am the Heterodyne!”
Gil’s face looked haunted. “You are a fool!”
His head snapped to one side. “That alone won’t save you. We’re trapped! My father has won!”
His head snapped to the other side. He looked at her coldly. “You talk as if you think the Heterodyne cannot die. I assure you that you can, and you will if you continue to defy me.”
Again his head snapped to one side. “I will not lose you,” he screamed. “Not again.” This last came out almost like a sob.
He’s arguing with himself, Agatha realized. Like there were two— Comprehension came crashing in on her, encasing her heart in a fist of ice.
She surged forward without hesitation, startling the man before her. She grabbed his lapels and gave him a kiss, fierce and hot. He froze in surprise, eyes staring down at her, before his mouth responded and eagerly molded itself to hers. After several seconds, Agatha grasped Gil’s lapels and pushed him back. “I will rescue you,” she said fiercely.
At this, Gil’s expression changed to cold fury, and he leapt forward, hands outstretched—and ran right into the boot Agatha slammed into his solar plexus. “Catch,” she shouted. Hands windmilling desperately, Gil fell back down the steeply pitched roof and smack into the waiting grasp of the now mostly recovered Franz, who clasped him tightly, arms pinned to his side. The dragon was obviously still a bit woozy, but ferocity filled his eyes, and the hold he had on Gil was obviously not a gentle one.
“So, kid. I don’t think we’ve been properly introduced. I’m the Great Dragon of Mechanicsburg, and you’re—?” He snorted and squeezed Gil even tighter. “Eh. You know what? Don’t really care.”
“Franz!” Agatha’s shout caused the great lizard to pause. “Franz, this is the Baron’s son, Gilgamesh Wulfenbach. Heir to the empire, and despite everything that’s happened here . . . ” Agatha looked away as she felt her face flushing. “Despite everything, I am somewhat in love with him.”
Franz glanced at Gil, so he alone saw the alternating expressions of joy and anger that flicked across the man’s face. “You sure about that, m’Lady?” Franz waved Gil about for emphasis. “I mean, I know Heterodynes never choose the easy path when it comes to romance,144 but there is something seriously wrong with this guy.”
“I know, but I cannot guarantee his safety here. So, get him out of my town right now, before I utterly destroy him!” Agatha touched her still tingling lips as she watched Franz launch himself off the tower. Or utterly something, she admitted to herself.
“Ah! Mistress! There you are!” Agatha almost lost her balance as the voice of the Castle boomed out of a nearby grill. “And screaming defiance from the highest tower, just as I predicted!”
“Castle! Are you . . . all right?”
A section of the roof beneath Agatha’s feet flattened out. Rods twisted upwards and formed a small decorative balcony railing. “You know,” the Castle said wonderingly, “I believe I am!” It chuckled in glee. “Would you like to see me prove it?”
“Yes!” A final, gratuitous peal of thunder rolled out overhead as Agatha found herself dancing in place while her town and the invading armies lay spread out before her. “Yes! Yes yes yes yes YES!”
CHAPTER 12
Amongst learned men, there is the conviction that every problem can be dealt with if one applies rational thought and a sufficient knowledge of the germane circumstances. Obviously there are problems that remain intransigent to this worldview, but it is believed this is due to a paucity of knowledge amongst the people attempting to deal with said problem, and that when our scope of knowledge has sufficiently increased, then we will have the tools to deal with them using the proscribed methods.
I myself have now come to the conclusion that this supposition is incorrect. I have seen many things and must state here and now that there are things sane, sensible men cannot deal with and, dare I say it, are perhaps not meant to know.
This, however, does not mean they do not exist, or should not be dealt with. This initially appears to be a paradox. However, the forces that rule the universe have provided us with what, in retrospect, appears to be the obvious solution: men and women capable of dealing with said unsettling problems, who are able to do so by virtue of their reason being already lost. I myself have seen this disquieting truth play out when, as I will recount below, I found myself captured by Jägermonsters and subsequently brought before Robur Heterodyne.
The conclusion I formed from this encounter, and the reason I will return to Mechanicsburg to serve him after I complete this, my final report to my fellow alchemists of the Royal Society, is the terrible, inescapable one that, for our world to continue as we know it, for it to exist at all, it appears that there must always be a Heterodyne.”
—The introductory notes to the unpublished manuscript of An Unsettling Series of Discoveries Regarding the Nature of Time, Space, Existence As We Know It, and a Disturbing Realization of Mine Own Place in the Universe by Lord Crispen Dugenness. (Currently in the Forbidden Library of the Pope of the Mountains)
On the streets of Mechanicsburg, the invaders were disorganized. This was not surprising, as even the ones from the empire came from a hundred different units that had been added to the Wulfenbach forces over the years. Many suspected that when the forces invading the city had been assigned, the Baron had selected the most outré fighting units.145
They had, nevertheless, been rigorously drilled in the empire’s fighting methods and protocols, and thus it took a great deal to cause them to pause. The lightning show that took place atop Castle Heterodyne, however, was in a class by itself.
On the Avenue of Mismatched Teeth,146 the Undead Army of the Glorious Dawn147 stared upwards as the lighting struck again and again. After a while, their sergeant managed to tear his eyes away from the spectacle. “All right!” he bellowed. “Back to attention! You’d think you zombies had never seen lightning before.”
The troops looked at each other. The one nearest the sergeant spoke up. “Not like that I ain’t.” Meanwhile the others made a show of shuffling back into some semblance of formation. The sergeant closed his eyes and counted to three. The problem with fully cognizant undead troops was that they had absolutely no fear of consequences. This was desirable when they were ordered into battle, but terrible when one was trying to enforce discipline. The only reason they listened at all was a built-in need to be obliging.
The sergeant tried again. More for his own peace of mind than anything else. “So whatta ya worried about? Yer already dead, ain’cha?”
The zombie considered this. “Yeah, and I wanna stay that way.”
“Then let’s just—” Suddenly the ground shook. “What the . . . ?
“Earthquake!” the nearest zombie shouted.
“Everyone stay close,” the sergeant shouted. He eyed the swaying buildings to either side. “Get to the middle of the road!” Which made things ever so much easier when the road split down the middle lengthwise, and the Undead Army of the Glorious Dawn fell into the darkness before the road closed back up above them.
Elsewhere, a column of Punch-Men clattered t
hrough the rain, the giant mechanical hands mounted atop their operator compartments swayed in gyroscopically balanced counterpoint as they ran. “Punch-Captain,” his second informed him, “I’ve lost contact with the ground support troops!”
The captain bit his knuckle in trepidation. “Some deviltry of the Heterodynes.” He looked at the burning rubble surrounding them. “I knew this was going too smoothly.” He made a decision and switched his communicator to Open Channel. “All right. We are pulling out and heading back towards the staging area.” He consulted the map above his head. Fifteen minutes, with no problems. “From now on, anyone we find alive stays that way. I want hostages.”
“Oh great,” one of the troops muttered. “Now he tells us.”
“And I want us out of the open.”
Atop one of the mechanical suits, the great hand twisted and pointed. “There’s an alley straight ahead, Punch-Captain.”
The captain examined it critically. “No windows, overhanging eaves . . . ” The hand atop his suit gave a “thumbs up.” “Good job, Lieutenant.” The hand waved them onward. “Forward!”
The squad moved forward at a respectable clip. The captain was again consulting the map when his second yelled, “Look out!”
He swung his eyes up and saw, to his astonishment, that the exit from the alley no longer existed. Before him was simply another brick wall. “The devil,” he swore. “Gloves up! One-eighty and retreat—”
“Punch-Captain!” The voice was from Lieutenant Oshtenpole, who was on rear guard. “There is no exit! And it’s getting—” His voice rose in terror. “The walls are closing in!”
The captain stared. They were indeed. “But it was just an alley,” he moaned as metal spikes slid forth from between the brickwork. “By the devil and his hat! Assume brace formations!” But less than a minute later, there no longer was any alley at all.
Back in the old days, before there were things like “municipal codes,” building construction was a more extemporaneous exercise. Which meant that, on the whole, the people doing the building used whatever materials were to hand. This gave the early structures of Mechanicsburg, which were often cobbled together from the salvage and scrap of the Heterodyne’s abandoned death machines, a delightful air of uniqueness. It was rare for one building to be similar to another, even one that had been constructed next door. Architectural tours of Mechanicsburg are very popular and focus not on schools of design so much as “Guess What This Used to Be?”
All of which serves to explain, in an admittedly roundabout way, why, while the rest of the home that Zeetha and Violetta were hiding in had crumbled under the withering machine cannon fire that had them pinned down, the remaining wall they now found themselves behind stood firm. It had been constructed from a single sheet of armor plating from a device that had, coincidentally, and entirely unknown to Violetta, once destroyed her family’s ancestral castle.
The two women observed the unremitting hail of bullets that peppered the remains of the building around them, and ruminated on the life choices that had brought them here. A fresh burst of fire pounded assorted tilework into powder. “That’s another one joined in,” Zeetha said with annoyance. “We’re really hemmed in, now.”
Violetta rolled her eyes. “So what exactly are we trying to prove here?”
Zeetha frowned. “The Baron is attacking Agatha’s town. We’re helping to stop him.”
Violetta looked at her disapprovingly. “One monster at a time? With something you ripped off of a clank?”
“Well . . . That Higgs took my swords . . . ”
“Stupid!” Violetta smacked her hand against the floor. “Stupid!”
“Oh, come on. I’m not doing so bad. Did you see that last guy’s face when I—”
“Not you, me!”
“What do you mean? Your count is what? Twenty-three? Twenty-four if you count that big steam-walker.”
“Why am I here? I’m not cool like you! You’re a real warrior! You’re good at this and you’re fighting for your friend. You’re not going to die out here, looking like a complete fool, just to . . . to show off for some guy you hardly even know.”
Zeetha stared at the shorter woman even as she gingerly touched the wound that even now throbbed between her breasts. The realization that this was, in fact, exactly what she was doing caused her to shake her head in amused self-recrimination.
She clapped Violetta on the shoulder. “Yeah, that’d be the stupidest way to die, ever. Come on, if I’m gonna hear about this guy, we have to get out of here.”
Violetta stared at her. “That’s an option?”
Zeetha looked around the minuscule safe area they were in, even as new rounds exploded around them. “The first thing we have to do is think positive!”
The shooting stopped.
The two women stared at each other for close to a minute. “Okay,” Zeetha said at last. “That’s a good start.” Gingerly, they tossed a shoe out from behind the protecting wall. There was silence. Zeetha took a deep breath, and peeked out—
And saw no one.
They stepped out onto the deserted street. “But . . . but where are they?” Zeetha muttered. “There were at least twenty of those cannon-hat guys blocking the street. They were here shooting at us. They can’t have just disappeared . . . ” She became aware of a tight grip on her shoulder. Violetta, looking slightly more shell-shocked, pointed towards the wall across the street.
I don’t remember there being a wall there . . . Zeetha suddenly saw the dozens of gun barrels poking out through the stones, along with, she realized, the occasional uniformed hand. She swallowed. “That . . . that’s something I’d expect the Castle to do.”
“Hello, ladies,” the horribly familiar voice seemed to come from directly behind them.
“Castle! Agatha did it! You’re back.”
“Indeed I am.”
“Where is she,” Violetta asked. “Is she all right?”
“Indeed she is! She is currently making some minor calibrations.”
“HALT!” The two women spun around to see a squad of clanks thumping towards them down the street. When they saw they had their attention, they raised their weapons. “Orders/hear/action/all Mechanicsburg citizens/tasty meat creatures are to be—” What they were to be was never established as, without warning, two entire buildings slammed together, crushing the mechanicals between them.
The Castle blithely continued, “In fact, your feedback would be very helpful. Just now? I’ll be honest, I thought I was a bit too slow. Would you say you: A. Agree; B. Disagree; or, C. Think there’s simply no fun in squashing them if they can’t see it coming?”
Zeetha looked appalled, but Violetta leaned towards her. “Relax,” she whispered. “In multiple choice? The answer is always ‘C.’ ”
“Hoy! Miz Zeetha!” The two looked around and saw Ognian, Dimo, and Maxim climbing a set of stairs towards them. Maxim saw Violetta and ran a hand through his hair. “Hello again, cutie, hy thought hyu vaz vit dot Othar guy.”
Violetta rolled her eyes. Zeetha grinned. “Violetta Mondarev. Smoke Knight now serving Agatha. She was a gift from a guy named Tarvek Sturmvarous.”
Instantly, the easy grins of the three Jägers vanished. “A vassal of the Sturmvarous family?” Dimo shook his head. “Hy dun know dot hy trust hyu, cutie.”
Violetta raised her hands. “I don’t blame you, but Tarvek and I decided we’re safer allying ourselves with the Lady Heterodyne. He’s in love with her.”
Ognian guffawed. “Veez met heem. He’s schmott, but he’z gun heffa go through der Baron’s son, end hy vouldn’t take dot bet.”
Violetta glared at him. “I would, since I’ve watched him fight Wulfenbach to a draw at least three times so far.”
Ognian’s jaw dropped and he glanced over at Zeetha, who grinned. “It was a pity you missed it, guys. They were fighting dirty and everything.” The Jägers nodded approvingly. In their opinion, Agatha was worth fighting dirty for.
Maxim lea
ned in and examined Violetta with a critical eye. “So, hyu’z a Smoke Knight? Wit all der fency poizons and sneaky schtuff?”
“Yes,” Violetta said from behind him. “I am.”
Dimo didn’t bother with not looking impressed. “So vhat are hyu supposed to be doink?”
“I’m charged with protecting her.”
Dimo made a show of looking around. “So vhat iz hyu doink here? Shouldn’t hyu be by her side or som’ting?”
“Shouldn’t you?”
The Jägers flinched at this. “Vell,” Ognian explained, “ve vos, bot den she vent off to activate der Castle. Dot’s vhat all dot lightning vos about. De next ting ve know, de Kestle iz tellink us to come op here, fast-like.” He shrugged. “Dun know why.”
Across the town below, screams and yells could be heard. Vast rumblings and groaning revealed where entire buildings were being flung about. Violetta looked at the Jägers with respect. “I guess the Castle likes you.”
Maxim considered this. “Hy tink it tinks uf us as part uf der furniture.”
A particularly loud explosion echoed off the walls. “And I,” Ognian declared loudly, “em hokay with dot!”
Dimo, meanwhile, had sidled up to Zeetha. “So vhat iz hyu schtill doink out of bed? Mamma said dot—”
“I’ve already talked to Mamma. I feel fine.”
“Hmm. Und here I thought Meester Higgs vanted hyu to stay dere as vell.”
“Don’t tell him!”
Dimo snorted and pointed to a figure toiling up the stairs towards them. “Hy dun gots to tell heem notting. He’z gun be here in a minute.”
He turned back and Zeetha was gone. Dimo grinned as Higgs topped the stairs. He saw Violetta and went to doff his hat, which seemed to be the first time he realized that he’s been dragging an enormous rat creature of some sort. “Hello, Ms. Violetta.” He faced the Jägers. “Gents.”
Ognian stepped forward. “Heegs! Hey, guess vhat, luffer boy, hyu just meesed—”
