The headmaster continued as I stared. “While our capabilities with automatons have improved over the years, we still find Alfred useful in teaching new apprentices the mechanics of automaton locomotion and control. Michael, if you would assist me please.”
Michael, being the tallest of us, followed the headmaster around to the back of the automaton, and between the two of them they turned a large wheel affixed to his back. The clacking of whatever coil powered the giant rattled off the bare walls. None of us dared to even whisper as we watched, transfixed.
It took several minutes to wind the machine. When the wheel began to strain and clack against the pressure, the headmaster and Michael finally stopped. Michael staggered back, his arms hanging loose at his sides as if he no longer had the strength to lift them.
“Now then.” The headmaster smacked his hands together and straightened his waistcoat. “If you look closely at the automaton’s chest, you’ll see a series of small levers. Each serves a basic movement, and depending on the combination . . .” His voice droned on. I recognized the lesson immediately. I’d already read it eight times, both in Simon’s journals and also from some records in the archives while I’d been trying to determine the best method to control my own automaton. My mind still heard the words as I recalled what I had read, but I no longer really listened to what the headmaster was saying. It was already imprinted deeply in my well of knowledge.
I found myself staring at the automaton’s face. Unlike so many of the automatons the Amusementists had created, Alfred did not have a smooth, blank mask. Instead gracefully rounded lids covered its eyes, waiting to roll up and wake the sleeping giant. Its squared jaw hung slack, giving it an oafish expression when combined with the sharply pointed brass wedge that served as a nose.
The giant looked alive in a way that the other automatons simply did not, as if it had thoughts and was waiting for the moment of freedom from slumber to express them.
It was so large, greater even than the Minotaur. I tried to shake off my memories of that mechanical monster, but I could not. It had moved so fluidly, as if it were alive and thinking. It would have been beautiful if it hadn’t been so intent on crushing me.
This automaton could easily crush half the monastery.
“. . . And so, as you see, with this configuration of motion, the automaton will take three steps forward, then stop.” I turned my attention to the headmaster just as his hand wrapped around the handle of a lever in the center of the automaton’s chest.
He pulled it, then took several quick steps toward the door.
The class parted like the Red Sea, giving the giant a clear path. Alfred trembled as if shaking off the bitter cold of sleep. Slowly its tarnished lids rolled up, revealing large, shining black spheres.
The automaton’s shaking increased as it lifted one leg and let it fall to the floor with a heavy boom. The boys around me gasped and moved farther from the lumbering automaton. We jumbled together, and the press of the crowd moved us away from the door.
Boom.
Another step. The automaton now stood between us and the only means of escape. My heart began to race as I pushed with all my might to get free of the crowd. I ended up next to David. He glanced at me and gave a short nod, as if all of this were critical to our automaton project, but at the moment all I could think about was how ominous each footfall sounded. They echoed like thunder when it breaks directly overhead.
Boom.
The chamber broke out in cheers. David clapped regally.
My fear was irrational. I should have been studying the automaton as well. Books could only do so much, and I did understand things better once I could see how they fit together.
The giant continued to tremble, though its feet remained fixed to the floor. I let out a relieved breath.
The footsteps had stopped. Thank the Lord, they had stopped.
“Now for the next movement,” the headmaster began, but he wasn’t able to finish.
Slowly, like a great bear sniffing for his prey, the giant’s head turned and its body twisted. Its enormous hands clenched into fists the size of anvils as the metal eyelids lowered and those cold black eyes fixed on me. A light appeared inside them, like twin candles were trapped within the glass orbs. Then they glowed red.
“Erm, Headmaster, is it supposed to do that?” Noah asked.
Suddenly the giant threw its tarnished head back and let out an unholy roar that filled the room until I could feel it shaking my bones.
“Run!” I screamed, gathering my skirts and throwing my shoulder into the boy next to me to force him to move.
The giant lifted its fists and starting swinging its arms as he charged straight toward us like a mad ape. The boys scattered like ants. The door was closed, and a press of bodies pushed up against it, preventing anyone from pulling the door open. The headmaster shouted for them to move back. In the confusion Noah fell.
“Noah,” I called, fighting my way back to him, even as Manoj grabbed my arm and tried to pull me away. The giant took a step to the side, then turned and stomped toward Noah. I wrenched my arm from Manoj, and ran. I reached Noah before the giant, and yanked him to his feet, throwing him toward Manoj. Then I dived forward as the giant’s foot landed where Noah’s head had been. The impact cracked the stone.
I tumbled off to the side, rolling over the ground before quickly scampering to my feet in spite of my skirts. The giant turned and faced me. He ground his heavy metal jaw.
It was behaving just like the Minotaur.
Because someone tampered with the automaton and gave it the same commands.
I needed fire. It was the only thing that had confused the Minotaur and rendered it blind.
“Meg, run!” David shouted as he loped to the side. I gripped my skirts and dashed as fast as I could to the back wall, where the large brass braziers were burning.
The giant charged after me like a locomotive, its momentum too great to stop. Panting for breath, I reached the wall and made a sharp turn to the left. The giant crashed into the brazier, spraying burning oil up and over itself.
I screamed, and David caught me, pulling me toward the eastern wall.
We fell together against the stone as the headmaster pulled the door open just enough for the others to escape.
I looked back at the giant, and to my horror the burning oil remained lit as the automaton rose and looked in confusion at the fire burning on its hands and curling over its shoulders.
“Perfect,” David said as he hauled us back toward the door. “The blasted thing is on fire.”
We ran for the door as the last of the boys slipped through.
“Hurry!” David shoved me through the door. The giant roared again. Then I heard the heavy fall of his feet as he thundered straight for the door. With David right behind me, we ran past the huge casks of wine and ale.
The large arm of the mechanism that lifted the barrels loomed over us. It was attached to the ceiling, but if it swung just right across the center aisle—
I skidded to a halt. “I have an idea.” I took in the connections of levers and gears. If my timing was right, it could work. We just needed to put tension on the wheel used to position the arm, then release the stabilizing levers suddenly.
David stumbled. “Are you mad?”
“If we don’t stop the automaton, it will burn the archives and bring the entire monastery down on top of it,” I shouted. As if to prove my point, the giant crashed through the heavy wooden door, splintering it as if it were nothing more than kindling twigs. “Take that over there!” I pointed to the control lever to our left.
The giant swung its fist into one of the large casks. The wood shattered, and a flood of deep red wine broke in a wave over the automaton. I covered my head with my arm as sharp pieces of the barrel rained down on me.
“Look out!” I shouted. The giant fixed its burning gaze on David, then swung its fist again as David ducked just beneath it. A shower of ale exploded from the broken cask, and David s
lipped as he reached the control lever for the claw that grabbed the casks.
He used it to haul himself up to standing.
I frantically turned the large wheel to my right, putting tension in the arm. “When I give the command, pull your lever!”
The giant ripped its hand from the remains of the broken ale cask and turned back toward us.
“Now!”
I pulled as hard as I could against my control lever, but it was stuck.
“Meg!” David wrenched his lever until the lock on the arm came free.
I threw all my weight against my lever, battering my hip. The lever shifted and the lock on the arm released.
The heavy lifting arm swung across the aisle, crashing directly into the giant’s face.
The automaton lost its balance and fell with a splash into the shallow lake that looked like foaming blood.
I didn’t have time to lose.
Lifting my skirts, I ran through the slogging mess and climbed onto the chest of the giant.
The automaton reached a hand up and brought it toward my head, the fingers outstretched to grab and crush.
I grasped the lever on his chest and switched it.
The giant’s fingertips brushed my ear as the spring wound down with a high-pitched whirr.
And the giant closed its eyes.
CHAPTER TWENTY-THREE
I COLLAPSED FORWARD ONTO THE chest of the giant, just trying to catch my breath. My clothing felt heavy, soaked and pungent with the smell of malty ale and red wine. I closed my eyes and gave my thanks to heaven that I hadn’t been crushed.
Now that the danger was over, I didn’t think I could lift my body again. All the strength had drained out of it.
“Meg.” David climbed up beside me. “Meg, are you injured?”
He rolled me over by the shoulders and helped slide me down to the floor. The cold wine seeped farther into my heavy petticoats. David reached out and brushed my sticky hair off my face. “Speak to me.”
“I’m unharmed,” I answered. His fingertips felt too gentle as they skimmed over my ear. I pulled away, struggling to my feet in spite of my ruined skirts. Blast it all, I wished I could be rid of them. They were nothing but a nuisance. David lent me an arm even as a crush of people poured out of the mouth of the stairwell and into the flooded room.
I watched my classmates look around with expressions of shock, horror, and the occasional elation that comes when boys discover a really large mess. As I watched them I was certain of one thing. Not a single one of us was capable of creating this disaster. The saboteur was no student. He was a master.
Peter approached looking relieved. “That was bloody brilliant.”
“Watch your language,” David warned. “That’s no way to speak in front of a lady.”
“It was a bloody nightmare is what it was,” I grumbled. David could keep his strict language mores to himself. Michael stopped in his tracks and guffawed; Manoj smiled.
Peter offered me his handkerchief, but David pushed his own in front of it. Unfortunately, David’s was dripping wine. I took Peter’s and gratefully dried my face.
“What caused this?” Manoj asked as he inspected the fallen Goliath. The machine appeared to be dead. The wine helped the effect.
“Someone instructed it to take more than three steps.” I inspected a rip in the sleeve of my dress. Any reasonable person would call the dress a loss, but I didn’t have the funds for another. I’d have to mend it somehow. Lovely.
That’s when I noticed Noah looking ashen and still amid the excitement of the rest of the apprentices.
He cleared his throat. “Thank you,” he said, then pivoted on his heel and pushed through the crowd and back up the steps.
I sighed in resignation. I’d saved his life, but that would be all the gratitude I would receive. Even after nearly killing myself to save the Academy, I was still an embarrassment to him.
It didn’t matter anymore. There were some battles that I just couldn’t win. I had greater problems to solve.
“Miss Whitlock, David,” the headmaster called as he pushed his way through the crowd of boys. He took one look at the fallen automaton, then took in the carnage of what remained of the large casks of wine, some still spilling their contents out through cracks in the sides of the wide barrels. “Thank the Lord you are unharmed.”
“For the most part,” David said.
“It was very brave of you to rescue Miss Whitlock. However did you manage to shut it down?” Headmaster Lawrence asked David. I couldn’t believe what I was hearing. No, I could believe what I was hearing. That was what angered me the most. David straightened, sticking out his chest, though his once immaculate shirt had been stained a lovely shade of purple.
Of course he would take the credit. Why wouldn’t he?
“Actually, it was Meg who stopped the automaton. She thought to use the cask arm to knock it over. Then she was the one to leap upon it and disable it.” David lifted his chin as the rest of the boys turned to me all at once.
I felt as shocked as they looked, and hoped my mouth was not hanging as slack-jawed as theirs were.
The headmaster’s gaze swung to me. “Is that so.” He looked me up and down, his expression pensive. “Well, that was very foolish of you. You could have been gravely injured. Whoever did this had intended irreparable harm. I’m surprised you weren’t killed.”
I tucked my head in an appropriately subdued way so he wouldn’t see me roll my eyes. “Yes, Headmaster.”
“Now go home and make yourself decent.” He clapped his hands loudly, drawing the attention of the boys. “The rest of you will stay and help set this right.”
The room collectively groaned.
I didn’t bother fighting. It wasn’t worth it, not now with my ruined clothing and the throbbing pain in my hip. I limped a bit as I climbed the stair. Occasionally an instructor or a fellow student would rush past me down the stair or along the corridor. I paid them no heed as I wandered back toward the courtyard. Now that the fight was over, I ached in every part of my body.
As I passed by the room that held my automaton, I caught a glimpse of the light from the corridor reflecting off the pristine shine of her metal face. I paused only for a second. I’d had my fill of automatons.
Shaking my head, I stepped passed the slightly opened door. The Academy needed to invest in some locks, especially with a saboteur around.
A leather-covered hand grabbed me by the face, covering my mouth as a strong arm wrenched me backward.
I felt a jolt like lightning snap through me as I grabbed the hand at my mouth with both hands and pried the smallest finger away.
Wrenched to the side, I struggled. I took the finger and pulled it straight back until I heard a loud snap. The man cried out and pulled his hand away. I screamed as loudly as I could, then held the hand and pulled it to my mouth so I could bite through the leather glove.
With all my force I kicked and stomped, landing a heel on the arch of his boot and throwing my head back into his face. A sharp pain sliced through my head. I felt as if I had just smashed it into something metal. After a second pained shout from the man, the arm around my waist let go, and I charged forward like a hare flushed from the briar.
I bounded through the corridors and down the stairs into the open courtyard. Spinning around, I gasped for breath. There was no one behind me. I was alone.
Carriages rattled in the bay. Without further hesitation I ran down the ramp into the large tunnel. Several Amusementists were arriving. Headmaster Lawrence must have sent for them to help. I recognized the Chadwick crest at once.
“Oliver!” I ran to him and threw myself forward. He caught me and held me steady as I shook in his arms.
“Meg, what happened? I heard there was an accident.” He took in the sight of my disheveled clothing.
“An attack,” I coughed out, so overwrought I could hardly speak. I just wanted to feel safe. I feared I couldn’t feel safe again. “There’s a saboteur. The man
. . .” I started coughing again. I couldn’t breathe.
“Here.” He helped me into his fancy coach, uncaring that my skirts were still dripping with wine. He spoke briefly with the driver, then came back to the door. “The coach will take you home.”
“Wait,” I tried to call out, but he was already running up the ramp. I wanted to tell him about the man in the mask, but I couldn’t speak. My throat felt closed shut.
The carriage began to roll down the long tunnel. I wrapped my arms around myself and just tried to stop shaking.
By the time I reached home and managed to fill a bath with scalding-hot water, my panic had abated some, but not my fear.
Whoever had grabbed me had been waiting in the room where I had been spending several hours a day by myself. He’d been watching me and knew my patterns. He had to be the saboteur. He had changed the automaton so it would cause chaos, then had taken that opportunity to attack. I felt hunted, not even safe in my own skin.
Even though I had no proof, I was certain of one thing.
The saboteur had to be the man with the clockwork mask.
The next morning before sunrise a note arrived calling me to an emergency Gathering of the Order. When I arrived at the monastery, rumbling voices from the main hall permeated the corridors as I joined the river of men flowing steadily toward the Gathering.
I flinched any time someone brushed up against me. The lingering fear from the attack had not abated. The man with the clockwork mask had managed to sneak inside the monastery. I felt I had to be aware of every detail around me, which was exhausting. I had not had a restful sleep. Nightmares of my attacker lurking in every shadow haunted me.
“Meg!”
I let out a gasp as I leapt and spun around. It was Peter. I placed a hand over my heart. “You startled me.”
Peter pushed past Instructor Ivan, then matched my stride.
“Do you have any idea what could have caused the automaton to attack?” he asked. “Some of the other apprentices were speculating about it while we were mopping things up yesterday, but each theory is as implausible as the next.”
Rise of the Arcane Fire (The Secret Order) Page 19
