Starfall

by Jamie Sedgwick

  “It seems someone knows we’re here,” said Socrates. He gestured for River to climb in, and followed after her. The carriage tilted in his direction as the ape mounted the step. Instantly, they heard a whooshing sound from the undercarriage, followed by a quick rap-tap-tap. The carriage righted itself, somehow reinforcing the suspension to support the automaton’s considerable mass.

  “I’m impressed,” River said.

  “Me too,” Socrates agreed. He settled onto the bench across from her. The driver returned to his seat, and they were off. The carriage circled around the block rather than attempting a tight turn in the street, and after the brief detour, they were on their way to the castle.

  River gazed through the windows, watching the numerous odd scenes on display outside. At one point, she saw a robot baker chasing a robot child with a stolen cake. At another place, two android men appeared to be haggling over the price of a wheelbarrow. Judging by the intricate web of gears and mechanical joints on the thing, it was no ordinary wheelbarrow. Not that it mattered. If previous experience was any indicator, the two would argue for a minute before settling on a price and then probably start the entire process all over.

  “It’s like a moment frozen in time,” River said.

  “What do you mean?”

  “All of these scenes... They’re like a moment recorded in history, repeating itself over and over. If you walked into any modern city on any given day, this is what you might see.”

  “Like one scene of a play,” Socrates said.

  “Yes, exactly.”

  The carriage passed through a gatehouse leading into the castle’s courtyard. It circled a long drive and came to a halt at the front steps. The driver leapt to the ground, pulled the door open, and stood patiently waiting for his passengers to disembark.

  As her boots touched the ground, River lifted her gaze to the castle and caught her breath. Long, dull black stairs led up to a walkway lined with iron pillars and tall gothic arches. Balconies encircled the upper levels, each level recessed slightly beyond the previous. Arched window frames surrounded glistening stained glass, and iron fences with spear-like balusters encircled the walkways. Winged gargoyles leered down from high above, jaws hanging open, demonic tongues outstretched to channel rainwater that never came.

  Socrates shifted next to her, and River became aware of his presence. “What do you think?” the ape said.

  “It’s terrifying.”

  “Agreed.” He twisted to face her. “River, speak nothing of our plans for now. We must be very careful with whoever -or whatever- is in this castle. We need to be sure that these machines aren’t allies of the Legion.”

  River’s eyes went wide. “You don’t think that’s possible?”

  “I don’t know. Until we’re sure, exercise appropriate cautions. Come, let us see what it looks like inside.”

  He started up the stairs, but River stood frozen, her eyes fixed on the spires. Socrates glanced back at her and cleared his throat. River noted his gaze, and realized her hand had been resting on the handle of her revolver. She wondered how long it had been there. She took a deep breath and said with a sigh, “I’m coming.”

  At the top of the stairs, two guards materialized out of the shadows near the entryway. They wore black uniforms with long coats and tall black hats. Each carried a rapier at his side, and they moved with the practiced stiffness of marching soldiers. Toy soldiers, River thought. Toy soldiers guarding a toy castle in a city of toys...

  The guards made quick half-bows and stepped to the side, gesturing for the guests to enter. The tall arched doors swung open. River forced back her unease as she followed Socrates into the castle.

  The interior was dark, lit only by a handful of flickering torches and multicolored bands of light shining down through the stained-glass windows. The main hall was one huge room that stretched all the way to the top of the castle, hundreds of feet in the air. River craned her neck as she drew her gaze upward, scanning the rows of metal balconies, the elaborate gothic railings and carved arches that seemed to pile one on top of another. The sheer enormity of the place was overwhelming. It hadn’t been possible to see from the street outside just how big the fortress was.

  Robots moved about here and there, going about their chores. Some went in and out of elevators that lifted them to the different levels of the castle. Robotic birds circled overhead, whooshing through the rays of sunlight and vanishing into the shadows. River noticed that many of the robots in the castle were mechanical in appearance. They had no skin or hair and wore no clothing. They were simply skeletal metal structures filled with spinning gears and whining actuators. Even the birds flitting about the room were only vaguely birdlike in appearance. Some of the robots even had wheels instead of legs.

  “Things are different in here,” she said in a quiet voice.

  Socrates gave a slight affirmative nod, but didn’t respond.

  “Ah, you’re here!” said a voice nearby. A diminutive man in a white lab coat came hurrying towards them. He was no more than five feet in height, with short black hair, a thin mustache, and a pair of wire-rimmed glasses.

  “I’m Altaire. Welcome to Ironhold!”

  “Thank you,” Socrates said. “I am Socrates, commander of the Iron Horse, and this is my companion, River. We have journeyed from a distant land, seeking-”

  “Yes, yes, I know who you are,” Altaire interrupted. “You’ve come from Sanctuary.”

  Socrates frowned at the slight man. “How do you know that?”

  “It’s in the library, of course. I know all about Sanctuary and New Boston.” He leaned closer, gazing curiously at the ape’s face. “Tell me, are you a prototype, or are you the real Socrates?”

  Socrates glared at him.

  “Hmph,” said the man. “I suppose you must be real. Forgive me. After the civil war began in Sanctuary, communications went silent.”

  “I don’t understand,” said River. “If the people of Ironhold knew what happened in Sanctuary, why didn’t they help?”

  “They had troubles of their own,” Altaire said with a distant look. He fell silent for a moment and his face went blank. The moment passed, and a broad smile lit up his features. The mustache curled over his thin lips in a way that made it look synthetic, almost painted on.

  “Enough of that! There is plenty of time for talk about the past. Forgive me for interrupting you. You were about to tell me what brought you to Ironhold?”

  “Starf-” River started, but Socrates cut her off.

  “Explorers,” he said. “We’re explorers, seeking out other civilizations. When we saw the undead outside your walls, we were curious if anyone might be alive inside the city.”

  Altaire tilted his head slightly. “I see. Very brave of you, very brave indeed. I saw what happened to your train. You’re lucky to have survived that crash.”

  “Are you alone here?” River said.

  “Alone!” Altaire said with a laugh. “Look around you.”

  “Of course,” she said. “I meant... Are there any more humans?”

  Altaire made a dismissive gesture. “The only humans here -besides me, of course- are those creatures outside the gates.”

  River opened her mouth to ask another question, but Altaire held up his hands. “You have many questions, I understand. But there is plenty of time. I can see that you need rest. Socrates, your interior mechanics are probably overheating. Let me give you a tour of the castle. I will show you your quarters... Assuming you will be staying here. You will, won’t you? I don’t really see how you plan on leaving. Not after what happened to your train. The two of you didn’t really think this out very well, did you? Ah, well. Never mind. Follow me. I’ll show you the gardens first. Perhaps we can find you something to eat...”

  River woke in the middle of the night. Her eyes snapped open from a dead sleep, and her heart pounded in her ears. She remained still and silent, taking stock of the situation. She was in a suite -a large one. Back in Dockside where
she had grown up, a place that big would have housed several families. It was ominously silent and somewhat uncomfortable for her tastes, even more so for the strange surroundings. The butler who had delivered her dinner and the maids who’d made the bed, for example. They had come silently into the room without knocking, watching her with suspicious glances as they prepared everything. Despite their lack of flesh, something about them seemed more than machine. The way they watched her gave River chills.

  Nearby, she heard a rustling sound, like the movement of fabric. Her heart skipped a beat, and she instinctively reached for her pistol on the chair next to the bed.

  “River,” Socrates whispered out of the darkness. “Are you awake?”

  She blinked. “Socrates? What time is it?”

  “I’ve discovered something important,” the ape said in a whisper. “You won’t believe it!”

  River relaxed her grip on the firearm and squinted up at the ape’s dark silhouette as he came closer. His features were barely recognizable, except for his eyes, which seemed wildly excited. “It’s about Altaire,” Socrates said, leaning closer. “He’s not human.”

  She licked her lips. “He’s not?”

  “No! He’s an android, like the machines in the city. But you mustn’t say anything. You mustn’t say anything at all about this. Do you understand?”

  “Why?”

  “Because I don’t think he knows!”

  Chapter 10

  Kale, or King Dane as he was now called, had but a moment to marvel at the sudden arrival of his presumed dead friends. Almost instantly, the wedding party caught him up, along with his new bride, and swept the two out of the pavilion and down into the streets of Stormwatch. They carried the couple on their shoulders, leading them on a parade through the city that ended at the palace.

  Dane found himself seated on a throne at the head of a great dining hall with Aileen at his side. A steady stream of peasants bearing gifts for their king and queen filed into the room. A group of bards played lively dance music, and the party swirled around them.

  A gift, no matter how small, afforded the bearer the privilege of congratulating the king and queen in person. This meant that Dane spent the first few hours acknowledging and thanking thousands of people. They came from all walks of life: merchants and tradesmen, craftsmen and laborers, soldiers and civilians alike. They were all kind and respectful, and though he started out with the intention of remembering their names and faces, they soon became a blur. It wasn’t long before the king felt a headache beginning to blossom at the base of his skull, and he called for a pitcher of ale. His thirst grew as the procession continued, and he was starting on the second when he looked up and found a familiar face staring back at him.

  “Micah!” he blurted.

  The halfling stretched out his hands, offering a polished dagger with a bow tied around the sheath. “King Dane,” he said with a bow of his head. “Congratulations.”

  Dane leapt to his feet and lifted Micah in his arms, embracing him. He set the halfling back on his feet and stood back, staring down at him. “What happened?” Dane exclaimed. “I was told you were all dead! I was told the Iron Horse crashed!”

  Micah’s eyebrows knotted together. “It did,” he said, “but how did you know?”

  “A scout found the crash site in the crater.”

  A look of understanding swept over Micah’s features. “That wasn’t the Horse,” he explained. He went on to describe what had happened. He briefly summarized the crew’s adventure with the Ana-nuit, and all that Socrates had learned about the undead legionnaires. “We sent a steamscout with a message for you,” Micah said. “It explained everything.”

  “It never arrived!” said Dane. He had settled back onto his throne, and he leaned back, stroking the stubble on his chin as he considered this new information. He tilted his head to the side. “You said there was a crash, though?”

  “Two days ago,” Micah explained. “We found a city in the Firelands, but it was surrounded by the Legion armies.”

  Dane leaned forward, elbows resting on his knees. “What happened?”

  Sir Gavin appeared next to them and cleared his throat. “Your highnesses, the line is still quite long. I suggest we continue this conversation in a more appropriate setting, perhaps in a few hours?”

  Dane glared up at his friend, but Aileen calmed him with a touch of her hand. “Of course. Thank you, Sir Gavin. Please take our guests to the king’s chambers. See that they are given fresh clothes, food, and whatever else they require.”

  “Your highness,” Gavin said, bowing before them. He turned to Micah. “Where are your friends?”

  “They waited outside,” Micah said with a sheepish look. “We could only afford one gift.”

  “Come along,” said Gavin. “Let’s get you all something to eat.”

  Needless to say, the rest of the evening was torture for the newly crowned king. He had so many questions, and his only desire was to reunite with his friends and learn what had happened to them. Nagging in the back of his mind was the sudden knowledge that River had been alive all along. What did this mean for his marriage to Aileen? Dane had to wonder if he would have made the decision to marry her at all if he had known. Yet still, something in his gut told him that it was the right thing; that perhaps it was meant to be. But what did his heart say? Of that, he couldn’t be sure.

  The minutes dripped away, filling up the allotted time like filling a lake with an eyedropper. Gifts continued to pile up. Music played, and the guests danced. Speeches and toasts were made. Food came, and came again, and again. Dessert came.

  It was well into night by the time the party ended. Even then, it hadn’t truly ended, but Aileen mercifully called Sir Hector forth and asked the knight to announce their departure. There were cheers and clapping, though many in the raucous and drunken crowd seemed to not even know what they were cheering.

  A royal coach drawn by four mechanical steeds carried the couple back up the hill into Dragonwall. Dane sat on the bench next to his wife, drumming his fingers on the wooden armrest until she silenced him with a touch. He looked into her eyes and saw the concern etched on her features, and a feeling of guilt gnawed at him. This wasn’t how their wedding night was supposed to be. This wasn’t what she deserved. He wasn’t what she deserved.

  The guards at the fortress opened the front gates wide to accommodate the vehicle. The knights appeared, dropping to their knees as the coach passed. It rolled into the mountain, right into the interior cone, and up the slope. The driver parked at a point near the top of Dragonwall. From there, it was just a short walk for Dane and Aileen to their chamber. Dane helped his bride off the coach and then carried her in his arms down the stone passageway.

  “You don’t have to do this,” she said gazing up into his face.

  “I want to.”

  “That’s not what I mean.”

  He glanced at her, but said nothing. Dane carried his bride across the threshold and into the king’s chamber, where the couple found Micah, Thane, and Morgane waiting before the fireplace. Aileen gave Dane a peck on the cheek as he lowered her to the ground. She excused herself to change clothes. After a long night of anticipation, Dane found himself facing his old friends, uncertain what to say. For a few moments he stared at them, and they stared back, the silence between them speaking volumes.

  “I’m glad to see you alive,” he said at last.

  “And we’re glad to see you doing well,” Thane returned with a sly smile. “Quite well.”

  Dane ignored the jab. He drew his gaze to Micah. “Earlier, you told me that the Iron Horse crashed in the Firelands. Explain yourself.”

  Micah took a deep breath. He told Dane about their discovery of Ironhold, and the decision Socrates had made to use the locomotive to break through the Legion.

  “Did it work?” Dane said. “Did they get inside?”

  “We don’t know,” said the halfling. “There was too much smoke, and too many ghouls everywhere.
”

  Dane stared into the flames. Aileen came into the room wearing her night robe. She stood next to him, letting the warmth of the fire wash over her. “So they might be dead,” Dane said. “After all that’s happened, they might be dead.”

  “We don’t know,” Thane said. “There is only one way to know for sure.”

  “It would take an army,” said Morgane. “Two dozen knights wouldn’t make a dent in that force.”

  “Or scouts,” offered Aileen. “We could send scouts to find out what happened.”

  “We’ve tried to scout the Legion before,” said Dane. “I won’t hand any more good men over to be slaughtered.”

  “Then what will you do?” said Micah.

  Aileen came close, putting her arm around him. “I understand,” she said in a whisper. “I know you love her. Do what you must.”

  Dane gave a slight shake of his head. “No,” he said. “Socrates and River knew what they were getting into. They knew the risk they were taking.”

  Micah’s face fell. “But River-”

  “Made her own decision,” the king interrupted. “My men will be facing the Legion soon enough. I can’t afford to lose any more of them. For now, if they’re still alive, I’m afraid they’re on their own.”

  Micah rose to his feet. “I’m sorry we interrupted your party,” he said, heading for the door.

  Morgane followed, but Thane paused before leaving. “One question,” the bard said. “I’ve been looking everywhere for Shayla. I don’t suppose you could point me in her direction... Or did she get married, too?”

  Kale’s face darkened. The bard’s smile vanished. “Is something wrong?”

  Chapter 11

  River slept late for the first time in as long as she could remember. She experienced a moment of confusion as she woke. She marveled at the give of the soft mattress beneath her body and the warm blankets draped over her. She hadn’t slept in a bed this comfortable since... ever? Then she noticed the diffuse red-hued sunlight streaming in through the window and remembered exactly where she was.