“They will over time,” Socrates said. “The question is whether they will change fast enough to survive.”
The conversation turned to other matters after that. Socrates promised to stay in the town for a few more days and have his crew educate the townsfolk on important matters such as farming and nutrition.
“My blacksmith can teach your men to harden iron into steel,” he promised, “and to smelt ore from stones quarried in the hills nearby. Kale can teach your men to hunt wild game and to fish. River and I can show you how to make tools and build simple machines to make your lives easier-”
He was interrupted by a watch guard who came running down the stairs. “The Keeper!” the guard shouted breathlessly. “He’s returned!”
“Where?” said the commander.
“The front gate, sir. He’s blocked the portcullis!”
The commander leapt from his chair, spilling his wineglass across his dinner plate as he charged for the door. Socrates and the others jumped to their feet and hurried after him. The cool night air washed over them as they left the keep, fragrant with the odor of hearth fires and cooking dinners. The moon had risen to cast a silvery glow about the city. The group took little note of these facts as they raced out of the keep and down the street past the Iron Horse, finally stopping a few hundred yards from the front gate. Just as the guard had said, the portcullis was open. A dozen Ancients had already found their way inside, and Townsfolk ran screaming past the group as the undead creatures lurched after them.
“Guards, block the street!” the commander shouted. “Turn over that wagon. Pull the furniture out of those houses if you have to!”
“Oh, what a tragedy!” the Keeper’s voice cried out in feigned horror. A torch flared to life in the darkness atop the wall, and the Keeper appeared. There was a glint of madness in his eyes as he held the torch aloft, waving it over the street. “It seems you have forgotten the first rule of protecting Blackstone, cousin. Always man the gate!”
“Madman!” the commander shouted. “What have you done?”
“Nothing more than what you’d have done to me,” the Keeper snarled. He glanced down at the guards piling up furniture before the horde of Ancients, and grinned menacingly. He hauled back the torch and threw it. The flaming brand easily reached its mark, and the overturned wagon immediately burst into flames.
“Did you really think I could be exiled?” the Keeper shouted. “Fools. I am your god! I will see you all destroyed. This night, the plague of the dead will take you all!”
The commander clenched his jaw. He stomped across the street and yanked the crossbow out of a guard’s hands. He raised it, took half a second to line up the sights, and released a bolt. “I’m your god!” the Keeper shouted. “I will always rule over-”
With a thud, the crossbow bolt found home. The Keeper’s voice went silent and he stood there a moment, swaying, staring down at the wooden shaft projecting from his chest. With a gurgling sound, he toppled forward. His body landed in the street below with a heavy thump, and the Ancients instantly fell upon him.
As the Keeper’s screams filled the night, the light of the fire illuminated the portcullis. Dozens… no, hundreds of Ancients pressed through the gate, clawing, moaning, slavering as they fought each other to get into the city. The flaming wagon had already crumbled, and as Socrates stood watching, the undead began making their way through the flames. They toppled forward, crawling over the burning wagon and piles of furniture, the fire licking at their flesh and bursting up from their ancient rotting clothes. Some fell to their hands and knees as their flesh gave way to the heat, but they continued to crawl, mindless of the searing flames or the stench of burning flesh rising from their bodies. Only when the heat became intense enough to destroy their brains did they finally collapse, but for every Ancient who fell, a dozen more appeared to fill the creature’s place.
“We can’t hold them,” Kale shouted. “There are too many!”
“To the keep!” the commander ordered. “Everyone to the keep!”
“No!”
Socrates turned to face the commander and put his hand on the man’s shoulder. “You have no food supply. You have no water stored. If you lock yourself in that keep, you’ll all die in there.”
“What, then?” the commander said. “What choice do we have?”
“Tell your people to board the train. I can carry you all to safety.”
“But the Ancients-”
“The Ancients will tear your people apart if they stay here. They have your scent now, and they will wait you out. They never rest, and they never sleep.”
The commander considered that, glancing back and forth between the horde of undead and the townspeople running for the safety of the keep.
“Don’t take too long, commander.”
Maru slumped his shoulders. “You’re right. We cannot stay.” The commander ran back up the street, calling out to his soldiers along the way. “Into the train! Guards, get everyone into the train. Hurry!”
Behind them, the firelight illuminated an endless stream of rotting corpses. They trailed out into the woods and filled the road beyond. The creatures had converged on the walls around the keep, and some of them had even managed to clamber up the trees and stones to the top of the wall. River appeared next to Socrates. The firelight danced in her eyes as she stared at the undead horde lumbering towards her.
“So many,” she said softly. “Thousands of them…”
“Going back generations,” Socrates said. “The Keeper has been to the graveyard. He brought them all here. He lured the Ancients into the city.”
“Will the people be safe in the train?”
“Not here. We’ll have to leave Blackstone.”
“What about the Ancients? We can’t just leave them like this. What if someone else were to come here?”
“No, we can’t leave them,” Socrates said. “I hope these people can someday forgive us for what we’re about to do.”
River turned to face him, and she became a silhouette against the backdrop of flames. “What are we going to do, Socrates?”
“Go to the train. Get your revolver, and go to the very last car. Wait until we’re clear. Don’t fail me. And make sure no one sees you.”
Socrates glanced over his shoulder towards the well, and River instantly understood. She broke into a run, pushing her way through the herd of evacuees near the train. Rather than fighting her way through the crowd, River leapt onto the front of the locomotive and raced down the narrow ledge, past the burners, to the engineer’s platform. At the end of the platform, she launched herself across the gap onto the coal car. From there, she climbed onto the roof of the next railcar and broke into a sprint.
River sped down the roofline, leaping from car to car until the city wall rose up overhead. She ducked through the opening and leapt easily to the roof of the next car. Beyond the castle wall, a narrow steel bridge crossed a steep ravine, and she glanced uneasily at the tiny metal structure supporting the massive train hundreds of feet in the air. The land below was dark, but she knew well that it was cluttered with boulders and strewn with broken trees. One slip or a heavy gust of wind would be enough to send her plummeting to her death.
So high, she thought anxiously, the blood draining from her face. Why is it always heights?
River’s heart thudded in her ears, and for a moment she completely forgot her mission. She stood at the edge of the railcar, gazing down at that black abyss, and suddenly realized she was shaking. River clenched her fists and closed her eyes, trying to ignore the sensation she was feeling. As her body temperature dropped, her adrenaline surged. River almost felt like her body was not her own; as if it might not respond to her will, and if she took a single step she might just tumble over the edge.
Beyond the bridge, the Iron Horse weaved back and forth until it disappeared under the heavy woodland canopy. Behind her, inside the city’s walls, River heard a small explosion of musket fire. Some of the crew had begun to
fire on the Ancients. She grimaced, thinking of Socrates. He most certainly wouldn’t have allowed that. Someone must have disobeyed his orders. That wasn’t a good sign.
These thoughts brought her senses back to reality. River opened her eyes and gazed at the train stretching into the woods ahead. “Just run,” she said quietly. “It’s just a straight line, just RUN!”
River ducked her head low and broke into a sprint, racing toward the far side of the bridge. She reached the end of the railcar and leapt, telling herself not to look down into that black gap, but she did it anyway. The sight brought a surge of fear that rolled up and down her body and very nearly caused her to stumble. River suppressed the feeling. She landed on the next railcar and continued running, forcing herself to focus on the trees ahead.
She leapt from that car to the next, and then again, until at last the ground rose up to meet the tracks, and the irrational panic that had a hold on her slowly gave way to relief. The bridge ended and she paused a moment to catch her breath. She turned back, gazing across the chasm to where the train disappeared inside the castle wall. The orange glow of fires made a halo in the smoke-filled sky over Blackstone, and she heard voices shouting in the distance. River hadn’t heard any more musket fire. Hopefully that meant Socrates had managed to regain control of the crew.
The sound of the train’s whistle cut through the night and River knew that Socrates was prepping the massive steam engine for departure. With any luck, the last of the townsfolk were now boarding. It occurred to her that the sound of the whistle might attract the undead, and she realized that was probably what Socrates had intended. He was drawing them to the train, getting them all as close as possible to the heart of the city.
That thought spurred her back into action. River broke into a run. She crossed the next three railcar roofs and, on the third, paused to stoop over and pull open an access door. She dropped through the hatch and landed in the hallway next to her private compartment. River rushed inside and quickly located her revolver hanging on the wall. With practiced efficiency, she strapped on her gun belt and then raced back into the hallway to climb back onto the roof.
River leapt up, caught the rim of the hatch, and pulled herself quickly to the roof. As she cleared the opening, she glimpsed a shadow moving on the roof next to her. She twisted her head around just in time to catch the buttstock of a crossbow on her forehead. River threw her head back, but not quickly enough to avoid the blow. She reeled, falling backwards across the railcar roof. A dark shadow loomed over her and she looked up into Commander Toolume’s face.
“Sorry about this,” Maru said grimly as he aimed the crossbow at her chest. “But I can’t let you do what you’re planning to do.”
Chapter 23
“I never should have let you into my town,” the commander said. “I should have shot Kale down in the road the night I first saw him. Then none of this would have happened.”
River put a hand to her forehead and wiped away a trickle of blood. She glanced at the warm crimson fluid on her fingertips and then wiped it on her leather breeches. She glanced up the train, past him, and found they that were alone. Her mind worked frantically, putting together the pieces.
“Why are you doing this?” she said. “We’re only trying to help you!”
“I tried to tell you. I tried to explain but Socrates wouldn’t listen. I won’t let you destroy us like this. You should have just left us. You should never have come.”
“I don’t understand. What is it you want? You want to go back to the way it was? Watching your people slowly starve and die, trapped in that castle?”
“At least we knew what we were doing,” he said. “We had a god. We knew right from wrong.”
“But you didn’t! You must see that now. The things you were doing weren’t right.”
“Subjective,” he said dismissively. “None of it matters now, regardless. Nothing will ever be the same. At least I can live up to my oath. I can protect my people, and the Ancients. Then they will still accept me as the Keeper.”
River closed her eyes and sighed. Of all the people in Blackstone, the commander had seemed most ready to accept a new way of life. She realized now that he hadn’t been as open about his feelings as he’d led them to believe.
“I thought you wanted to change things. I thought you wanted a better life. Or was that all just talk, to get us to leave?”
“Oh, I wanted things to change. I wanted my cousin dead. I wanted to proclaim myself the lord of this city and put things to right… I couldn’t do that until you left, though. You’re right about that. I suppose I could have let you and the others burn on that pyre, but then I’d have had your crew to deal with. And your train, of course, which would serve as a constant reminder and temptation to the others. So many variables to deal with. All I really wanted was for you to be gone. That’s why I saved you. So you could get on your train and get the hell out of my city.”
River stared up at him, noting his finger on the crossbow’s trigger. She moved her arm slightly, wondering if she could possibly reach her revolver. The commander responded by pressing the crossbow bolt into her chest. The sharpened steel tip bit into her flesh and her lips parted.
“Don’t even try it,” he said.
A trickle of blood ran down River’s sweat-moistened flesh, and his glance strayed to her bosoms, straining against her bodice. River felt the heat of his lusty gaze lingering there. She cocked an eyebrow.
“See something you like, Commander?”
He yanked his gaze away from her cleavage and fixed her with a menacing stare. “If you were one of my servants, I’d rape you for that.”
The steam whistle howled in the distance, and River felt a gentle tug against the car beneath her. The distant hiss of steam told her Socrates had released the brakes.
“Is that what you like, raping girls?” she said, staring into his face. She slid her hand up to pull the strings on her bodice, loosening the knot. The leather parted, spreading wide to reveal the pale cleavage between her breasts. The commander narrowed his eyes.
“What are you playing at?” he said quietly.
“Don’t you like to play, Commander? Don’t you want to tell me what to do? Don’t you want to hurt me?”
He licked his lips and cast a wary glance over his shoulder, verifying that they were still alone. River tugged the strings, parting her bodice, almost fully revealing her breasts. “You’d better hurry up, commander,” she said teasingly. “We don’t have all day. Hurt me.”
That was all he could take. He set his crossbow off to the side and bent over her, dropping to one knee. He squeezed her breast in his right hand, and when she didn’t resist, he bent closer. A moan escaped his lips. River smiled and reached up, drawing him in, parting her lips for a kiss.
An instant before they touched, she jerked her head forward, slamming her forehead in to his nose. The commander reeled back, cursing, scrambling blindly for the crossbow off to his side. River kicked at it, knocking the weapon out of reach. It clattered across the metal roof. The commander turned aside and lunged after his weapon, but it slid over the edge of the roof and disappeared into the forest underbrush.
In an instant, River was on her feet. The commander cursed as he realized she’d tricked him. He lunged at her, but she already had her pistol in hand. She leveled it at his face and smiled coldly. He wiped the blood from his nose and spat.
“Blood for blood,” she said, her finger dancing on the trigger. “Step back.” He sized her up for a moment and then reluctantly took a step back.
“Good,” she said, nodding at the hatch next to him. “Now open that door and get in.”
The commander bent over the hatch and pulled it open. He glanced inside and then fixed her with a furious glare. “You’ll live to regret this,” he said.
“You’re lucky I’m letting you live at all. Get in.”
Suddenly the train lurched forward. The engine had engaged at full power, and the railcar seemed to jump un
der River’s feet. She lost her footing and her legs went out from under her. She dropped flat on her back. Instantly, the commander was upon her. River tried to raise the pistol, but he caught her by the wrist and slammed her hand into the roof. A painful spasm shot up and down her arm and the revolver slid from her grip. Maru snatched it up and tossed it through the open hatch. River winced as it vanished.
“Let’s put that collar of yours to good use,” the commander said. He raised his fist and punched her solidly on the cheek. River’s head snapped back, slamming into the railcar. Stars exploded in her vision. She clenched her fists, struggling to bring her reeling mind back into focus, desperately clinging to consciousness. River knew if she blacked out now, she’d never wake up.
The commander still had a firm grasp on her right hand, but her left was free. She struck at him, landing a solid right hook on his temple. The sudden attack caught him by surprise, and River took advantage by swinging again as fast as she could. The second blow went wide, grazing his ear. She swung again.
Caught off guard by the ferocity of her attack, the commander threw his arm out, struggling to block her blows. His grip on her wrist relaxed, and River took advantage. She lifted her arm and yanked him forward, pulling him off balance. As he came within reach, she slammed her forehead forward, once again crushing his nose under her skull. This time the cartilage collapsed and his nose was completely smashed. An involuntary roar erupted from his mouth as blood sprayed out of his nostrils. His hands went to his face.
River swung her head to the side, trying to avoid the spray of blood. She struck out at him with both fists, slamming them into the commander’s chest with all her strength. The impact knocked him backwards. He rolled sideways and came up in a crawling position as she struggled to get back on her feet.
The Clockwork God Page 15
