City of Steam (Blackburn Chronicles)

by Dominic K Alexander

  Dedicated to the girl with the symbiotic hair

  and our two parasites.

  1.

  Sweat dripped off Peter’s forehead as he stopped to look around the corner of the tattered dirty building. The steam run mechanical murderers were nowhere in sight. He steadied his breathing and listened for the unmistakable clanking noises his pursuers gave off. The alley was silent. The smell of filthy wash water and fecal matter burned his nose, but that was not his only burden at the moment. He knew he had to get free of the foul city and complete his mission, so he sucked back his fear, gripped the coin tight, took a deep breath, and ran.

  Every step he made brought him closer to the city gates and his freedom. Just a few more feet and I’ll be home free. He thought. Then he heard it. Clank. Psssh. Clank. Psssh. The Controller Guards hunting him were on his scent again. He hoped not using his magic would have bought him more time; he was wrong. They must have discovered the coin missing already. He thought, so he ran a few more feet and ducked into a vacant burned out store front. Stopping, he silently listened for them while holding his breath. The clanking of metal and whooshing of steam came closer and closer, then abruptly ceased. They were within a couple yards of him, and he knew it.

  Peter cautiously looked out of the door to see where they were and if he would be able to sneak away. He heard the tell-tale sound of a metal click and dove to the floor as bullets sprayed the doorway. The old and neglected brick walls shattered with every shot, launching shrapnel across the room. Peter covered up trying to protect himself from the oncoming attack. He knew he needed to run, but fear once again threatened to suffocate him and he remained frozen to the floor.

  Something tore through his shoulder causing a torrent of pain coursing through his body. He opened his eyes which he had squeezed shut as tightly as possible wanting nothing more than for the whole situation to go away. Testing his arm for the extent of damage, he was surprised to find it still attached. Another hit like that and he would be dead. There was no time for him to use his healing magic since these monsters intended to spray enough bullets into this building to bring it down on top of him. The thought of being caught and burned alive snapped him out of his frozen state and he bolted for the back door.

  The old shop had been destroyed from a fire and it was not hard for Peter to drop his shoulder and ram his full weight into the door, bursting completely through it and into the street where he fell to the ground, small pieces of splintered door stuck in his arm. He pulled them free and ran full force through the streets away from the clinking and loud retorts of the guns firing on the deserted, and now destroyed, store behind him.

  Peter was ghostly white with beads of sweat running down his forehead as his wounds slowly ran streams of blood down his arm, but he did not let it slow him down. He was too close to his goal to give up now. People littered the streets showing no concern for the destruction so close by, but he paid no attention to them either. As he rounded the corner of 2nd and 5th street he saw the gate opened and calling him to his freedom. He squeezed his hand even more tightly over the object he had been sent into the city to steal and pushed himself to run even faster. Being so close to his destination he called upon the elements and asked the earth below his feet to help him move faster. The earth didn’t hesitate. It pushed him up sending him into high speed long jumps towards the gate. Every time he landed, the earth would give under his weight and then catapulted him up into the air like a trampoline.

  Alarms roared as the Energy Detecticons, which the city used to detect magic within the walls, sensed his elemental bond and the gigantic Controller Guards at the city gate began closing the solid steel door which was his only escape. Peter was undeterred. He leapt through the crowd of people, blood splattering them as he sped by and bounced through the remaining sliver of opening before the gate slammed closed. His bond with the elements had again saved him. The roar of gunfire echoed through the field and the spray of dirt as bullets hit the ground around him sent Peter into a tumble, and he hit the ground in a roll before getting his feet under him and running full sprint out of their range. After getting a safe distance away he stopped to look back at the enormous steel wall and was thankful to be on the other side of it. Controller Guards were kept inside the walls so they were not destroyed or stolen. Now that he was beyond the walls he could take his time and breathe before heading back to camp.

  Peter looked back at the walls and saw two Controller Guards staring at him from the rusting metal walls. They were the shape of a human, but were at least 8 feet tall and coated in copper with a large pipe coming off their back which bellowed clouds of smoke with every movement. Instead of a left hand they had Gatling guns used to tear through their enemies. Dirty brass tubes came off the guns, which gave the Controller Guards the ability to feed large round projectiles into the gun’s chambers before firing. Being equipped with small Energy Disrupticons, they were also able to detect magic which made it all the harder for Peter to complete his mission. The beasts were steam pots from hell, but luckily for Peter they were easily restrained by the wall. The front gate finished closing, trapping the monsters behind it.

  Peter smirked at the gate, then turned to the forest and started walking towards home still clutching his prize. As he neared the edge of the woods he noticed something wrong. There was no sound. Wildlife did not usually come this close to the city anymore, but there was always the faint sound of birds chirping in the distance. Now there was nothing. Peter began to worry and called again to the elements. This time he called to the winds to pick up sounds and bring them to him. There was nothing, only silence. He shook slightly knowing something was very wrong.

  With a deep breath, he took a small step into the woods and peered deep into the shadows. The thick forest was too dark to see anything that may have been waiting for him. He took another step and stopped to listen. Still, there was nothing. He waited to see if the threat would present itself and was reminded of his arm by the sound of his blood dripping to the ground and forming a small puddle at his feet. Using spirit magic, Peter reached his hand over to his wound and forced the blood to clot. If his father could see his magic skills now, Peter was sure he would be proud of him. But to show his father how much of a man he had become he would first need to make it home, and with every step into the dark forest he was less and less sure he would get there.

  Peter used the elements to reach out into the forest a second time while cautiously stepping deeper into the darkness of the forest. Then, a chill ran up his spine and he felt something in the tree above him roar to life and drop down towards him. The earth below his feet threw him out of the way as the attacker narrowly missed its target. A large metal spider, 6 feet in diameter, swiped a razor-sharp leg at Peter, missing, and taking a chunk of wood out of the tree behind him. He called on the earth to grab the legs of the spider-esque beast. Mounds of dirt reached up and grabbed the spider pulling it down which gave Peter just enough time to escape. He ran and leapt with the help of the earth. In seconds the spider could escape the restraint, but it was a couple hundred yards behind Peter, and its gears and steam power was no match for the speed and agility of Peter and his elemental use. Within minutes the beast was out of sight with what Peter hoped was no hope of catching up.

  Peter could maintain his speed for little more than 2 miles before his energy was spent. He could feel bile in his throat from the sickness brought on by using so much of his energy, so he found a small tree and leaned his back on it, taking a much-needed break. He pulled a knife from his ankle sheathe, cut a hunk of bark from the tree, and started sucking the fluids from it. The refreshingly sweet liquid ran welcomingly down his throat and n
ot only quenched his thirst, but also gave him the energy he needed to move on. He loved being in, and learning about the plants around him. The sap of one tree was capable of healing and another was capable of poisoning someone who may not be as well studied in the plants effects, but he was well studied in what the forest could provide, and there was nothing he needed that nature could not give him.

  He looked at the stolen coin knowing it potentially possessed the help his family and camp greatly needed. He wondered if something so small could save them, but put the thought into the back of his head where it would hopefully be forgotten. He gripped the coin tight again before finally placing it in a small cloth pouch on his waist.

  Back against the tree he thought about the beast that was probably still searching for him. Security Guards were usually kept inside the city to protect the technology. If a beast was taken while beyond the gates it could be reprogrammed to do great amounts of damage. Elementalists were not the ones to worry about. Other cities sent spies and scouts all the time trying to gain an advantage and bring forth a coup d'état on opposing cities. They would steal technology then rile up the citizens who would aid in reprogramming the Controller Guards. The aristocrats running the city feared this and never allowed the metal contraptions beyond the city walls and were also very cautious who was allowed in the city. This one however, was beyond the walls and was a pretty mean opponent. If he had not been as fast as he was, it would have had him.

  It also was not like the others. There was no stack on it anywhere. It looked like any ordinary spider, only made of metal, and was obviously not steam powered like the rest of the army. Peter shook his head thinking, if the city elites had advanced their technology, elementalists everywhere were in for a lot of trouble. He had to get the information to camp as fast as possible. If he hurried, he could be there within a couple hours. Making sure he would not get an infection he found some local Saba root and chewed it up, then used the chewed paste to fill the wound. The root would not only fight any infection but would also numb the pain. That was something he desperately wanted right now.

  After several long seconds, his arm was no longer a concern, and his energy was enough to get him home, but only if he left now. He was positive the city had already sent assassins after him and he didn't want to have a run in with them on his own. That was always the downfall to Guards being kept behind the walls. They were mindless thugs and could be easily taken in groups. Assassins were intelligent and far more likely to sneak in and take out their target. In a group, he stood a chance, alone he was done for. He mustered his remaining energy and headed for home being careful not to use the elements or be loud in any way.

  As expected he was home in under two hours. Dusk had barely given way to night and the forest was quiet except for the chirping of grasshoppers. Lightning bugs illuminated much of the forested area and he always took comfort in their beauty. The smell of stew wafted through the trees making his stomach grumble.

  Finding the rock ledge, Peter touched the cold damp stone, then walked until there was a smooth surface under his fingers. He called on the elements and asked the stones to move out of his way and as the rocks shifted and parted in front of him a large door revealed itself inviting him into the stone house. Excited to be home he took deep breath, opened the door, and stepped inside.

  Even though the home was dug out of the side of a mountain, it was quite comfy. The fireplace brought warmth and there were several candles around illuminating the room. Peter’s mother and father sat at the table eating steaming bowls of stew; while looking quite somber his mother let out a little chirp of relief when she noticed her seemingly safe son standing at the door. His father sighed as if a weight had been lifted off his shoulders. He would never tell Peter, but he had thought him lost and would never be happier to be wrong in his assumption.

  “Come eat, dear.” said Peter’s mother. His stomach growled at the wonderful smell the stew gave off. The Saba root began to wear off and he could feel the pain in his shoulder again, so he removed his leather tunic and placed it carefully over the back of his chair being careful to hide the bullet hole from his parents. A hot bowl of stew was exactly what he needed after the day he had. The steam danced on top of the stew as he placed the bowl on the table and sat down.

  Peter’s father, observant as always, reached up and grabbed ahold of Peter's injured shoulder. Peter almost spilled his soup on the ground as he pulled away from his father’s grip. Pain shot down his arm and the injury began to burn again. His father smiled and hoped that was the only injury his son had endured.

  “I’m fine.” Peter said. “It’s just a flesh wound.” Peter and his father laughed thinking of a movie they saw before being forced out of the city. It reminded Peter of better days. The days when the city was prosperous and the citizens were happy; a time when magic and technology went hand in hand. Things could not be more different now. Peter’s father wore a distant look on his face and Peter knew he was thinking the same thoughts.

  “Were you able to find what the elders were looking for?” The old man finally said breaking the silence. The look in his eyes showed the expectation of failure. Peter wasn’t upset since he knew it had less to do with ability and more to do with age. His father had always had faith in him, but the elders asked for an almost impossible quest from one of the youngest in the village.

  "I did." Peter smiled and reached into his hip pouch pulling the coin from it and laying it down on the table in front of his father. He held his head high with pride as the look of shock and amazement showed in his father’s wide eyes now staring down at the coin. It seemed like forever before he looked to his son then back to the coin again. He had no words for that moment. He had not expected his son to succeed and seeing him alive was enough. To have brought the coin with him was nothing short of a miracle.

  Peter’s father stood still staring, then he reached down and picked up the small coin. He walked over to one of the many candles illuminating the room and held the coin up to the light carefully examining the intricate design crafted by some of the greatest men and women to walk the earth. The coin was more than just a piece of art or some object of beauty, but something unseen by most, and most people did not even believe something so rare and exquisite existed.

  The coin was merely the housing to a complex and ancient machine. There were only a few in the world and they were thought to have been lost during the great purge. The outside of the coin was made of copper. The inside was much more intricate with a pair of small gears unmoving on the outskirts of a beautiful bright blue azurite gem. This coin was a reminder of times long forgotten. It was crafted by two great societies who brought unity and prosperity to the world. The gears represented the artisans of the city. They were great machinists and inventors who crafted unheard of machines to help the city run. The azurite gem was crafted by the mage elders and represented the energy flowing through the earth and the great people who could harness that energy.

  This coin was crafted over a hundred years ago by the head elder mage, Alvin Vorhees, and his artisan equal, Thomas Kride. Together they combined magic and machine creating wonders the world had never seen. Cities were built and prosperity followed. With their falling out, all was lost, and a decade of depression and death followed. Anything magical was destroyed or lost. To look upon this artifact was a blessing indeed.

  Peter stood up, walked over to his father, and placed a hand on the old man’s shoulder. A tear ran down his father’s cheek and fell to the floor. This symbol was their future and the only thing that could undo the suffering of them all.

  Peter’s father rubbed his thumb over the azurite and then concentrated his powers on it. He called to the energies of the air asking them to flow into the coin, then did the same with earth, then fire, then water. Finally, he reached up and grasped his son’s hand and asked the energy of the spirit to flow into the gem. The five elements accepted the calling and came together into the center of the coin.

  The
coin started to slowly come to life. At first the gem began to glow a brilliant blue color, then the gears started moving clockwise. With every full rotation of the gears there was a tiny click. Peter’s eyes were transfixed on the coin not knowing what the item was or what it did. He only knew it would somehow save his people.

  Peter’s father on the other hand knew exactly what the coin did. He knew the legends and stories of the one who could come and save their people. The coin held within it hundreds of small locks. The gears spun faster and faster, clicking over and over. With every rotation, another lock was undone. Another minute and the coin would fulfill its purpose.

  The room glowed with the blue light of the azurite and Peter looked around at the beauty of it. He turned to see his mother, but she was no longer sitting at the kitchen table; instead she was scrawled across the floor eyes permanently frozen with the look of death.

  Before Peter could react, a beast of death showed itself to him. The shiny metal exoskeleton and bright green eyes were unmistakable. It was a Grim Beetle. If it detected them it would explode riddling the area with poisons and neurotoxins rendering them helpless and potentially setting them on fire from the blast, which would bring a permanent death. At only a couple feet away there was no way Peter or his father would escape the blast.

  The coin’s gears continued to spin and click while Peter’s father stared with anticipation. Peter squeezed his father’s hand hoping to get his attention but his father simply squeezed back thinking his son was excited about what was about to happen. Little did he know; his son was filled with panic at what was about to happen.

  Peter was alone in trying to save them now. He called on the wind energy to help him. He had hoped to blow a hard gust of wind at the beetle and force any shrapnel away from them, but before the air responded gunshots and explosions broke the silence. Peter’s father spun around looking at his son who continued to stare at the floor. More gunshots and explosions rang out into the night. Screams of panic echoed off the homes stone walls.