Dark Iron King II: Arcadia Falls (Unreal Universe Book 5)

by Lee Bond

  Garth ran a hand across the brass-bound Book secured somewhat clumsily to his chest with leather straps as he crossed the curiously empty street that led up to his destination, pleased to know –and at long fucking last- why the damned Eye had worked so intermittently throughout Arcade City right up until he’d stood on Agnethea’s palatial grounds.

  Kingtech.

  Proper, full-fledged Kingtech was networked together through the Cloud. His Eye, being a scavenged piece of tech from a Gearman’s horse, had worked very poorly indeed when near the broken Kingspawn circuit board and more perfectly during his fight with Kingzilla.

  Now that he temporarily owned Book –a device designed to integrate with … horsetech- his Eye was working absolutely perfectly.

  Even still, things were hardly ‘perfect’ perfect. The Eye still displayed roughly ten thousand times too much data and much of Book’s internal processes were devoted to keeping said Eye functional whilst moving through the invisible miasma. Garth slowed his roll once he made it to the other side of the street, looking every way he possibly could; DarkEye was telling him that the area was less full of people than it should be, given the time of day and the relative demands placed on the garment district on a daily basis.

  “Tell me some shit I don’t know.” Garth growled. Rather than strolling boldly into the huge structure unprepared, the ex-Specter propped himself against ‘Honest Harry’s House of Hats’, wondering idly as he did so if hat making guys in Arcade City went as batshit bananas as their 18th and 19th century counterparts had.

  DarkEye didn’t know how to respond to that, so it simply continued barfing raw data into his eye line. Garth let his mind wander, allowing instead his countless years of experience to roam free, assessing and analyzing the situation far better than any machine could ever hope to do. As this went on, the Engineer turned his mind back to Agnethea’s greatest and most prized treasures.

  The Queen of Ickford was a scraggly beard-whisker away from being Arcade City’s preeminent hoarder; in addition to holding on to damn near everything she’d ever personally laid her hands on –which, after eleven thousand or so years of living, was enough to fill that goddamn castle top to bottom-, Agnethea was the one and only collector of Kingtech.

  A feat in and of itself worth legendary praise, putting your hands on a single piece of Kingtech was a guaranteed death sentence. Obtaining and keeping hundreds of devices of varying age, complexity and wonder, each and every one of them almost certainly having passed through King Blake’s hands at one point or another was … impressive.

  Garth looked at the emptied streets in front of him. He wasn’t getting any younger, and the Golem inside wasn’t getting any older. Time to get the mess over with.

  ***

  “Each of the items in this room” Agnethea breathed excitedly as the two of them wandered through the museum of lost technology, once again perversely pleased at the imagined risk in allowing the man free access to some of her deepest secrets, “carry with them a death sentence.”

  Agnethea’s excitement was a palpable thing, beating against Garth’s senses like a thing alive. DarkEye’s breakdown of these -obviously her most treasured items from different periods of her life- came quicker and with more depth of detail than just a few minutes ago, convincing the ex-SpecSer that somewhere in the gallery, there was something connected to Kingly Wi-Fi and was beaming data right into his eyepiece.

  Rather than be an asshole by plunging of in search of that one piece, Garth wandered around at a leisurely pace, giving the display the attention that Agnethea’s obvious pride over her collection demanded.

  Some of the pieces, like a very smooth, very well-made sword, spoke to a truth uttered by Barnabas some time ago; the King hadn’t always insisted everything that came from a forge had to look like a mad Victorian scientist’s vision done up in gears and metal filigree. The wickedly sharp blade –referred to as ‘Excalibur Mark I’ in the floating data-tag- was proof of that.

  “Excalibur, hey?” Garth ran a gauntleted finger against the edge, gritting his teeth at the faint metal-on-metal squeal.

  “That,” Agnethea leaned up against a columned bookshelf full of ancient manuals, many of which men like Mickel and Harvard would murder for, “particular blade has now become the sole prize offered up by Water Ladies. Originally, those blades were used by seventh century officers in King’s Court. This was back, oh, when great steamships plied the skies, I suppose.”

  “Yeah, but … Excalibur?” Garth wrinkled his forehead and moved on to another display. Once again, an impossible pattern was emerging and he didn’t like it. It was bad enough that the whole entirety of fiction in the Unreal Universe hadn’t had even the slightest glimmer of steampunk.

  But this … this … impossibly named sword. It bugged him. Choosing to ignore the fact that King Arthur and Merlin and Mordred had never existed, Garth moved on to the next piece.

  When his eyes fell on the comm badge, he shook his head angrily. Contrary to what he knew of the swooping design, DarkEye insisted that the badge was, in fact, a medal of honor given to those who fought in combat against the Rolling Scourge that beset Arcade City in the 18th and again in the 19th centuries. “The fuck? How can this even be here?”

  Agnethea was at his side in an instant. “Is something wrong? What does your Eye tell you?”

  Garth stepped away from the small dais, desperately fighting the urge to grab the comm badge and shout ‘two to beam up’. Not only would Agnethea not get the joke, the old badge had definitely seen better times; some of the metal casing was so timeworn and thin that breathing on it the wrong would could likely turn it into dust. It was bloody certain Agnethea would take exception to that, a turn of events Garth didn’t want to see happen, no matter the circumstances.

  He needed to find the device that was connecting his Eye to the nanoparticulate! If that meant putting up with some kind of fucked up in joke someone was apparently having at his expense, so be it.

  Deciphering Garth’s needs effortlessly, DarkEye began cataloguing everything in sight, throwing up names, dates, and histories of each piece within a ten foot radius.

  There was the broken hilt of a Platinum Brigadier’s ‘hotsword’ that had him itching to bitch about midichlorians. There was a jumbled assortment of machine parts DarkEye referred to as ‘engine from the SteelShip Ontario’ that his brain –keyed to picking out the smallest element, now he knew what he was looking for- labeled ‘Mr. Fusion’. An embossed hockey mask worn by gardeners that was more at home on a psychopath’s face, half a robotic arm that would’ve been perfectly to assist in the hunting down of John Connors…

  There was more, so much more. On and on, all around him, from floor to ceiling!

  Hundreds upon hundreds of things, ripped from movies and books that no one in the Unreal Universe could have ever had a chance to learn about. It was almost too much to bear.

  Standing there, surrounded by impossible fiction brought to life, Garth brought to mind every movie and book he’d resurrected from the proto-Reality during his down time thirty thousand years ago. Some of the stuff around him –like the Federation comm badge, the knock-off lightsaber, sure, yes, he had gifted Old Earth those amusements to distract Humanity from the awful shit happening around them, so it was possible that a few things had made it ‘neath The Dome… “No.” Garth muttered, staring down at a screwdriver that had done more to save Humanity than any other item in history. “No one ever had a chance to learn about the Doctor. I kept that for myself.”

  Agnethea was perplexed by Garth’s behavior. The tools and weapons, books and maps, jewelry and clothing contained inside her hidden museum were ancient, wonderful, mysterious. Many of them beggared her ability to figure out, such as the SteelShip’s engine, or the strange device that had him so outraged. “Doctor who?”

  Garth laughed bitterly as he stared at the device. “If only you knew how fucking funny that was, how long people from my generation waited to hear that very question
, and how brilliant it was when we were given the answer to the oldest question in the Universe, written in plain sight, across the stars… You’d weep as we all did.”

  Agnethea put a cool hand on Garth’s armored shoulder. “What is wrong? I expected quite the opposite response, Master Nickels. Many, no, all the cherished items in this room took a great deal of doing to acquire. Each of them is a direct instance of King’s Will made manifest. I expected you to look upon them with awe, or excitement, not sorrow and anger.”

  Garth let loose with a grumbly sigh. It wasn’t Agnethea’s fault. He wished he could explain properly why everything he was seeing had him so upset, but anything he might say would fall quite quickly into topics he wanted to avoid.

  He waved his hands around. “Let’s just say, Queen Agnethea, that … all of this reminds me of home.”

  “How could it…” Agnethea trailed off. Such a thing was impossible. From book to sword, from engine to the shining golden ring pried off the finger of the Mad Gearhead Revenant, the whole lot came from the last ten thousand years of Arcade City’s long and bloody life.

  Garth waved a hand, dismissing the unfinished question. His eyes fell on the sonic screwdriver a second time, and DarkEye coughed up some internal memories of the proto-Universe. Him, flame-haired Sparks Dangerously and ludicrously Americanized Drake Bishop, sitting on a ratty couch in their dorm room watching illegal British television, marveling first at the cheese of Who’s adventures, then later, when things grew as dark as they’d grown glorious, weeping tears of sorrowful joy.

  He reckoned those times were –in truth- some of the last true happy moments in his life. Shortly thereafter, the misery of the DeadShop had come to light, and shortly after that everything had gone incredibly fucking pear shaped, the Ushbet M’Tai had flung him back into the Unreal Universe with all due haste, leaving his dearest friends to their own devices.

  Well, Garth thought bitterly, an inch away from spilling hot tears at the unwanted memories of better times, that place doesn’t exist anymore, now does it? The entirety of the proto-Reality had been rendered into the quadronium systems powering his body.

  Agnethea saw the glistening tear in the poor man’s bright blue eye and tried to quizzically puzzle out how a simple tool used by maintenance men from one of the King’s last great cities could bring such a fierce warrior such great sorrow when he stamped his foot so loudly, so suddenly, that she spun into a roundhouse kick without even thinking.

  “Well. Not all that civilized after all.” Garth said drolly, grinning as Agnethea stared incredulously at how firmly her leg was held in place no more than an inch from his left temple. “Now why don’t you show me what’s under the floor?”

  The Queen of Ickford blinked. “My leg, if you please, Master Nickels?”

  Garth flaunted a smile and released her leg. He flourished a deep bow, complete with bended knee. “Apologies, Queen Agnethea, for startling you so.”

  “We are in the mood to forgive you, Master Nickels.” Agnethea intoned with all the regal pomposity she’d ever heard King Barnabas Blake use. “Though in the future it would be best if you refrained from sudden movements. We apex predators are inclined to react without thinking at the best of times. You are not the only one in the room fighting against inner urges. As old as I am, and as in control as I appear to be, certain things can set me off.”

  “Aren’t we just.” Garth mused ominously. He shook his head mentally. As much fun as he was having palling around with Agnethea and being treated to the cool things she had inside her sinister castle, he really, desperately needed to be away. Being reminded of a past that could never be and a world that’d fallen into the cracks of never-was, his sour mood grew worse by the moment.

  Agnethea ignored the cheerless statement, instead shooing Garth out of the middle of the room with a flick of the hands. When he was well clear from where her most treasured item would rise up, she clicked her fingers.

  Garth nodded and smiled approvingly at the tinted glass-and-brass tube as it spiraled up out of the floor until it towered above him; whatever was inside was invisible behind the dark tint. Whatever’s inside, Garth thought to himself, is worth everything inside the room, possibly even worth more than Ickford itself, for the moment the tube –eight feet tall now it was fully out- locked itself into place, dozens of guns ratcheted out of the top, huge, clacking monstrosities capable of shredding anyone and anything that came too close.

  DarkEye’s HUD immediately asked for ‘integration protocol access’. Pursing his lips as he eyed Agnethea speculatively through the haze of lukewarm steam wafting out of vents set into the base of the well-polished tube, Garth nodded covertly. Long strings of code filled the HUD, which he promptly ignored in favor of listening to Agnethea explain what was hidden inside.

  “Master Nickels,” Agnethea gestured with a flourish, face flush and heart beating faster than it had in quite some time, “I give unto you Book, Master Nickels. My most valuable prize and the one true reason why I decided to build Ickford.” The Queen, only truly Queen inside the castle built by her own two hands, flicked a hand once more. The heavy guns back into their cunningly designed cubbyholes as smooth as snakes. A second or so later, the heavy glass went clear enough so that ‘Book’ could be seen in all its steampunk glory.

  Garth raised an eyebrow at Agnethea, moving only when she gestured that the way was safe. Inside the big cylinder was one of the largest books he’d ever seen, and it definitely warranted Agnethea’s avarice.

  No wonder it was so well hidden. No wonder it was the heart of her castle.

  No wonder she’d built an entire city to hide its existence!

  As it spun and rotated on a small metal holder, Garth went at the construction of the thing with the eye of a seasoned artificer and was not disappointed by what he saw; as with nearly every-damn-thing under The Dome, it was geared to hell and gone, but this was … different. This had been built with care and precision, over time, and with –dare he think it- considerable love.

  This was definitely the thing linking his Eye to the particulate infrastructure.

  A quick glimpse of the backside as it spun lazily in its prison showed a protruding assortment of … well, to Garth’s eye, it looked like nothing so much as a complicated looking key. The schematics for the sort of Gearman who would wield a Book like this one sketched itself across his eye.

  He turned to look at Agnethea, heart skipping a beat at how vulnerable she looked.

  “Book.” Agnethea continued, hand held protectively over her own heart. “The means by which Gearmen the world over connect themselves directly to King’s Will. With it, through it, they can learn nearly everything. I have seen those men in the evil armor plumb through the echoes of the past, dig up moving pictures of what happened a day, a week, a year ago. With it, they can learn everything about … anything at all.”

  The Kin’kithal itched to break it loose, to flip through the pages, to see how it functioned. “That’s … cool.”

  “Am I correct in assuming, Master Nickels,” Agnethea sashayed over to run an elegantly manicured hand down the side of her guest’s be-Eyed face, “that the black glass contraption attached to your face is communicating with Book in some fashion?”

  The old Golem’s bitter heart –if it were even conceivably possible- started beating faster still as Nickels considered how best to answer. Of all the things stolen from lost places throughout Arcade City, Book was … Book was the most important of all. Book held all the secrets of the world within its thick covers, though try as she might, she’d never once been able to open it, never once been privy to what it could reveal.

  For all its inaccessibility, Book had done something for her. Something Agnethea would’ve never imagined, had never imagined. Recovering it … recovering it had given the most ancient Obsidian Golem a shocking –terrifying- taste of true mortality, one that… the Queen shook her head. Garth was literally dancing from foot to foot.

  “If your hands were to
twitch more than they are just now, Master Nickels,” Agnethea gestured, and the glass plates slid open with nary a sound, “I would think your fingers would break.”

  Jealousy stabbed her heart as Garth reached in to pull Book from its perch. Even though she’d already toughened herself against what was so obviously going to happen –miracles, both profound and villainous took place wherever the damnably handsome man wandered- it was still … painful. The trials and tribulations she’d undergone to free Book from its prison…

  Garth held Book between his hands, reading over the protocols flickering across the HUD. A lot of what he was seeing made no sense because the machine code used by ‘King’s Will’ was vastly different than the one he’d used for the Goreene Cloud, but one thing … no, two things … no, wait, three things were immediately obvious.

  One, Book had spent quite a lot of time trapped in Agnethea’s basement, and in that time, it’d figured out a way to crack through the Golem-tainted field emitted, making it literally the most valuable object under The Dome.

  Two, DarkEye –however weirdly it was linked to his quadronium circuitry and to his armor- was attempting to negotiate full connectivity with Book, a feat which could theoretically transform him into a kind of Gearman. A thing that would be of immense awesomeness.

  Three, and the thing that was most important, Agnethea was close to having either an anxiety attack or she was –whether she knew it or not- gearing up to rip Book from his hands, whereupon she would most likely try to beat him to death with it.

  So no matter how badly he wanted to open it up right there on the spot, Garth decided right then and there that the safest thing for everyone concerned was to wait until the Queen had gotten used to the idea.

  Holding Book close to him in a way that he hoped shouted ‘I am displaying an entirely intentional lack of possessiveness towards this most valued and treasured thing, please see how cool I am being’, Garth spoke. “Tell me about Young Luther, and precisely why it is you need him and his dead now if you please.”