by Holly Law
The Prince of Machines
(the Last Mechanics)
Published by Holly Law
Smashwords Edition
Copyright 2012 Holly Law
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Other Books Available
The Serf and the Soldier
Empress in Hiding (Heir of Dori)
Coming Soon
The Prince of the Havalla (The Last Mechanics)
Empress on the run (Heir of Dori)
Table of Contents
Prologue
Chapter 1
Chapter 2
Chapter 3
Chapter 4
Chapter 5
Chapter 6
Chapter 7
Chapter 8
Chapter 9
Chapter 10
Chapter 11
Chapter 12
Chapter 13
Chapter 14
Chapter 15
Chapter 16
Chapter 17
Chapter 18
Chapter 19
Chapter 20
Chapter 21
Chapter 22
Chapter 23
Chapter 24
Chapter 25
Chapter 26
Chapter 27
Chapter 28
Prologue
The air smelled of metal and oil as the Prince stepped into the mechanic’s lair. He surveyed his surroundings briefly as he sought out the one he had come to see. There were piles of scraps everywhere. Odds and ends that held the potential of thousands of machines. The potential was unlimited, and the Prince could only smile at the possibilities.
He felt a twinge of irritation at those piles even as he took pride in them. There was no rhyme or reason to the piles that he could tell. The pieces were in varying conditions. The Prince was, by nature, meticulous. He expected perfection and the mechanic’s means of storage left much to be desired.
“How can you find anything in here?” the Prince called into the workshop.
“Eh?” the mechanic called back. The Prince saw him sitting over a table full of scraps, working on what looked to be a mechanical arm. That pleased the Prince. That arm meant he was working on the Clockwork Man.
The mechanic was an unimpressive man. His overalls were ripped and stained with grease. His long black hair was pulled back in a sloppy ponytail. He had grown a scruffy beard since the last time the Prince had seen him. All that detracted from his immense size and powerful arms. At the moment, those hairy arms were covered in grease. The sleeves of his red, worn shirt were pushed back. He was hunched over the table working with a focus that satisfied the Prince.
“I asked how you can find anything in here,” the Prince said again, walking to his servant.
“I find what I need,” the mechanic grunted and looked back at the arm. He touched it with another machine that caused it to spark briefly.
“You are working on the Clockwork Man?” the Prince asked, surveying the arm.
“Aye, but I don’t expect it to be fully operational. Something still is not right with it.”
“Then fix it,” the Prince said shortly.
“You show your ignorance, Prince. The Clockwork Man is more complex than you realize.”
“Yes, you’ve only been working on it for your whole existence.”
“Did you come to badger me about the Clockwork Man or did you have something you wanted?” the mechanic asked him irritably.
“I have two reasons for coming,” the Prince informed the Mechanic, ignoring his rudeness. “The first matter is this ring. It was found, and I wondered if you could repair it.” He held the plain, metal ring out to the mechanic. It had small working parts, but they appeared only as stationary designs at the moment.
“Nope,” the mechanic said, not even turning to look at the ring.
“You haven’t even examined the piece,” the Prince said calmly, but he felt his patience being tested. He always felt vaguely frustrated after speaking with the mechanic. The mechanic served him faithfully enough, but never gave him the respect he was due.
“Don’t need to,” the mechanic said bluntly. The Prince stared at the mechanic’s back, waiting for an explanation. After several long minutes, the mechanic sighed. “I don’t have the hands for such fine work. My hands are for the big machines, not those delicate flowery ones. Take it to another.”
“There are no others,” the Prince told him patiently. He couldn’t count how many times the mechanic had told him to take a machine to someone else.
“Shouldn’t have killed my people off then, eh?” the mechanic said, looking up at him. There was no malice in his gray-blue eyes. The Mechanic hadn’t shed so much as a tear when he had been informed the Prince had killed his people. He had simply shrugged and continued with his work.
“They were a threat to me,” the Prince said calmly and with no regret. He didn’t even feel a pang of grief at the hundreds of thousands of deaths he had ordered.
“Then you must live with the consequences,” the mechanic said uncaringly.
“I want it fixed.”
“Find another.”
“There are no others.”
“There are always others,” the mechanic replied with a short laugh.
The Prince paused and looked at the Mechanic thoughtfully. That was the first time the mechanic had ever hinted at survivors. The Prince had found many over the years, but all had chosen death rather than to serve him. He had kept the mechanic unaware of those developments.
“Are there more?” the Prince asked casually, lifting a small mechanical ball to twist in his hands. It gave a pathetic little whirl before it began to smoke. The Prince discarded it with a twinge of disappointment.
“A couple,” the mechanic said as he focused on the arm.
“Where?”
“You’ll have to find that out for yourself, my prince,” the mechanic said as he stood and walked to where the metal skeleton of the Clockwork Man stood.
“Your whole purpose is to see to it that these machines exist and you will not tell me where I can find the ones with the skills I need to fix them.”
“That’s about the size of it,” the mechanic agreed, attaching the arm to the Clockwork Man with the twist of a couple bolts.
“Why?”
“You’ve killed enough of them.”
“I will not leave one of them alive who does not serve me. It would be too dangerous.”
“Yes, you would know all about that, wouldn’t you?” the mechanic grinned at him, still amused by the Prince’s former circumstance.
The Prince gave him a frosty look, displeased by the reference. “Indeed,” the Prince told him coldly. “I will find another to help me eventually. Then perhaps I can get some of these smaller machines fixed.”
“Only if you find someone with delicate fingers and a great deal of precision,” the mechanic said walking back to his work table.
“I have eternity.”
“Aye, you do. What was the second reason you came to pester me?”
“You sent for me,” the Prince reminded him. “You said you had some important information for me.”
The mechanic grunted and went over to a table covered in papers. “I found some old plans for an elemental machine.”
“Elemental
Machine?” the Prince asked, instantly interested. Elemental machines were rare and very powerful. He only had access to a couple, but their abilities were spectacular. The mechanic wordlessly extended a rough blueprint to him. The Prince looked at the ancient documents eagerly.
He could easily see what attached where and why. It was a large machine and would be difficult to move from its location. He studied the notes on the side and frowned at the description. “Shaker?” he read with curiosity.
“Aye, it shakes the earth around it,” the mechanic told him, walking back to his work table. The Prince followed him as he studied the paper with interest.
“Hmm, that could be useful. It is powerful, I would assume, being an Elemental. Where would I find it?”
“I know nothing of the outside world. There are some markings for a place but they mean nothing to me. Figure it out for yourself.”
“Yes, I see those markings now. They seem vaguely familiar.” The mechanic didn't reply and seemed distracted by his work. “I will have Amalia search for this place. She is a useful girl for those things.” The mechanic still did not reply, but the Prince no longer cared. He had what he came for and it made all the difference in the world. He would soon have one more machine that would allow him to place the world more firmly under his control where it belonged.
Chapter 1
The orphanage was a noisy, cold place. It smelled of unwashed bodies and old vomit. Rain from the outside world frequently leaked through the ceiling, making it both damp and moldy. The food was the rancid scraps no one else would eat. It was a place for orphaned children to be forgotten and nothing more. None of these traits endeared the old building to Elisha. She could think of no place she hated more.
Even with her hatred for the orphanage, she would have rather been there than her dreams. Around her a city burned. Thick smoke clogged her lungs, making every breath painful. She could barely see in the gray haze and the sound of screams filled her ears. The orange glow of flame colored her vision with both heat and color.
“Elisha, hide!” her mother ordered her, forcing her and her brother underneath the floor boards of her home. A rug was thrown over the trap door, hiding them from the scene that would follow.
They heard the door to the house burst open and Elisha and Eldwin hugged each other in fear. “Have you changed your mind?” a man asked, his voice smooth and accented.
“I would rather die than serve you,” their mother said defiantly.
“Pity. Where are the children?”
“I killed them myself so they would be safe from you!” her mother lied, and the lie made Elisha cringe.
“What a waste,” the man said with a sigh. “I was told that the girl in particular was extremely gifted. It would seem your choice has been made.” There was a loud sound and their mother screamed a moment later.
“Wake up sleepy head,” Eldwin called, shaking her into alertness. Elisha blinked confused and looked up at Eldwin. “Same dream?”
“Yes,” Elisha said with a yawn.
“You need more imagination than that,” Eldwin told her. “Honestly, it's been nearly twelve years. Some more originality in your dreams couldn't hurt. Don't you get tired of seeing that burning city all the time?”
“Of course I do,” Elisha snapped irritably. She sat up and rubbed the sleepers from her eyes. “I am very tired of hearing mother die every night.” She stretched. Her back was one giant, painful knot after sleeping in her corner of the floor all night. She cast aside her moth-eaten tatter of a blanket.
“Time for chores,” Eldwin said with fake cheer, brushing a lock of dirty, brown hair out of his eyes.
“Ugh,” Elisha said, making a face. “Why do we even bother?”
“It makes Madam Qwilfree happy,” Eldwin said, mirroring the face she made
“Nothing makes that old bat happy,” Elisha agreed as she stood up. “It's not fair that she dresses in furs all day, and we're left up here in the attic to rot.”
“Agreed,” Eldwin said and casted a glance towards the stairs. “What do you say we skip out on them today?”
“You don't have to say that twice,” Elisha said with a grin.
Together they both made their way downstairs. The main area of the building wasn't so bad. That was the part of the building the public saw. The main stairway in particular was kept very clean, and none of the orphans were allowed to step onto the rug at the bottom. Madam Qwilfree's rooms were also neat, as was her public sitting room. Everything else off of that main sitting area was another story, but no one cared about those.
“You're up late,” Madam Qwilfree criticized them instantly. She was dressed in fine clothes and was wrapped in a coat of fur. Elisha would have loved to have dumped the dirty water from the floors all over that fine coat, but didn't dare for the beating she would receive.
“I'm sorry, Madam Qwilfree,” Elisha apologized meekly, casting her eyes down.
“Get to work scrubbing the floor over there. And be more careful this time not to get any of that filthy water on that rug. It would cost me more than all your hides to have it replaced.”
“Yes, Madam Qwilfree,” Elisha said at once and they both walked to the entry by the base of the staircase. They both reached the bottom of the stairs near the door and didn't even glance at each other. It took Elisha only a split second to pick the lock, and Madam Qwilfree was only beginning to shout as the door was pulled open. They raced out and into the frosty morning air.
Elisha and Eldwin both laughed as they quickly ran down the streets, their breath creating a cold mist in the air. There was no pursuit. Madam Qwilfree was not slender enough woman to be able to catch any of the children if they chose to run. And even if she were slender, Elisha at least, was excellent at running from trouble.
They were soon on the other side of the city. They both were still laughing as they sat on the edge of the decorative fountain in the middle of the main square. The many tiers were iced over, but Elisha still admired it. She thought it glittered like silver in the light.
“You're getting faster at that,” Eldwin complimented her. “She didn't even know what you were doing until we were out the door.”
“You'd think she'd have learned by now,” Elisha said, rolling her eyes.
“Learn? That old bat? She’d have to have a brain in her head for that. Well, what do you want to do today?” Eldwin asked her, looking up at the sun. “Doesn't look like we're going to have bad weather.”
“Looks like a perfect day,” Elisha agreed. “Why don't we go try to get some machine parts and see what we can fix up? Might put some copper in our pockets.”
“We haven't built a machine in forever,” her brother said thoughtfully.
“Hard to get parts in that dump.”
“Where should we look?”
“I thought we could rummage through the garbage a bit and ask in stores for scraps. No one knows how to fix the machines. They just toss the parts—even when they're still good!”
“Yeah, I never understood that.”
Together they walked from store to store asking the owners for any spare scraps. The owners didn't seem to understand what they wanted with the scraps, but were glad to be rid of them. They rummaged through the garbage behind several fancy buildings. Their arms were full of scraps before they had even been out looking an hour.
They had a small place they frequently went when they got out of the orphanage, which was becoming much more frequent of late. It was an old drainage tube under the stone bridge, just near the outskirts of the city. They could see the main gate if they climbed to the top of the bridge. No one ever bothered them down there, and the pipe was never used. Some searching the previous year had revealed that the end of the tube that would have allowed water to flow contained a machine that was both ancient and broken. It no longer possessed the ability to open and flood their hideout.
There were a few other parts there Elisha had found, and a small machine she had repaired a year earlier gave off
enough heat to keep their fingers warm as they worked on the machines. Elisha touched it gently, and it activated. A soft, yellow glow emanated from it, and heat filled the inside of the tube.
“I love that little machine,” Eldwin said emphatically. “I wish we could just stay here.”
“Runaway orphans are arrested,” Elisha reminded him. “Last thing we want is to be chained up inside that sorry excuse for an orphanage.”
“At least we know Qwilfree won't report us if we're back by nightfall.”
“Probably afraid they'd arrest her too. She doesn’t want them looking too closely at the orphanage. Let's see what we've got.”
They dumped out their parts, and Elisha and Eldwin both examined every scrap. Some were in better shape than others. Elisha found one small machine that looked on the verge of being in working condition. With a few very careful twists and turns she had popped open the small brassy ball to expose its inner workings. She saw thin scrubbing fibers on the edge that should have been able to come out, but were stuck inside. She examined everything in the stash and found a few more unique parts that looked hopeful. She carefully secured them in place with her fingers as her brother tinkered with a slightly bigger machine.
“That should do it,” Elisha said, closing it quickly and securing it with a sharp twist. She held it out in her hand, and it whirled to life with a familiar hum. It hesitated only a moment before it started hovering over the wall near her. Its scrubbing fibers came out, and it started scrubbing the wall. “Useful little thing,” she observed. “It does a thorough job.” It swished back and forth over a spot until it was clean. Then it moved on to another. It would have its work cut out for it in that tube.
Eldwin looked at it fascinated. “It is useful. Could be faster though,” he said critically. “Can you tweak it more?”
“Don't have the right parts.”
“We could go rummage for more.”
“Nah, I bet we could get a silver at least for this little guy. Keep it in a stash to spend later, or buy ourselves something warm to eat.”
