by Tim O'Rourke
Chapter Three
Willow Weaver had never walked on all fours before – but since coming through her doorway three days ago, she’d had to get used to it. There was a lot that Willow had to get used to, and fast. Earth, she was discovering, was far different from her home in Endra. They had told her that each was a reflection of the other, and she had heard about the ripples, but things were different – a lot different.
In Endra, although one of the Noxas, Willow had been tall, walked upright, had arms, fingers, feet, and toes. She’d had a face. In Earth, she looked like a giant wolf. Her hair had stayed the same, fair and thick, but now it covered every inch of her, along with a long, bushy tail that swished behind her every time she took a step with her paws.
Willow had come through her doorway to find herself in a deep wooded area. At first she hadn’t realised her change, other than she seemed closer to the ground somehow. Disorientated and feeling sick, Willow had glanced back over her shoulder to see her doorway melt away like a block of ice. There was a thunderclap and she yelped in fear. That was when she noticed the change. The noise that had come from deep within the back of her throat was guttural – like an animal. She had never made a noise like that before. Believing that she was lying down, she tried to stand, but it didn’t feel natural – it took effort. Waving her arms out in front to balance, Willow saw the two giant, white paws wave before her eyes. The yelping noise came again, and she felt a long, thick tongue roll from between her jaws and lick her nose – snout!
“What has happened to me?” she cried, but it came out sounding more like an agonising howl than a voice.
She dropped back onto all fours again and spun around to face her fast-disappearing doorway. It was then that she noticed her tail swishing to and fro behind her.
“A tail!” she woofed with fear.
As fast as she could, Willow bounded back towards her doorway, but even before reaching it, she knew it was hopeless. The doorway, constructed of ice that she had conjured deep within the Snowstorm Mountains, melted away before her, covering the leaf-coated ground with water. She bounded around in the area where her doorway had once stood and licked at the water. It felt cold against her long, pink tongue. She licked her jaws and felt the long whiskers that protruded from her snout.
When she had volunteered to come into Earth to find this Wally Willabee that Wilberforce had spoken of, she had no idea that she would take on the form of a giant wolf. Had her leader, Wilberforce, known this would happen? Did all of the other Noxas know the risk she had taken, and was that why not one of them had volunteered to take on the mission? Warden, her husband, had tried to talk her out of it – he had begged her not to go. But he was blind. How would he have survived here – what changes would he have gone through? She wondered.
“Why?” she barked angrily. But Willow knew why. She had come to help save her home, Endra. But more than that, she had come to save her son, William. If he had courage enough to travel with the boy Zachary Black to the remotest corners of Endra to save their world, then she must be brave, too. That is why she had come.
But where to now? How would she find this Wally Willabee? This Noxas had come into Earth many years ago and was now rumoured to be the head of a secret organisation that called themselves the League of Doorways. Where would she find him and his secret coven? Did he too look like a giant wolf – just like her? Willow couldn’t be sure. In this new world, she couldn’t be sure of anything.
She sniffed the air, and the woodland smelt different from the Howling Forest where she had spent most of her life. The air in Earth didn’t smell as clean as the air in Endra – it smelt dirty somehow, as if poison was carried upon it. Willow shook her mighty flanks as if trying to rid herself of the smell, and then set off through the trees. At first she walked, trying to get used to this new way of walking. Then she started to trot, run, and then bound forward in giant leaps. The Noxas had always been able to run fast, but this was incredible. With her heart racing in her chest, she raced amongst the trees, her paws throwing up a shower of dead, dry leaves in her wake, her sleek body a blur of white fur.
Willow didn’t know how long she had run like that or for how far. The trees gradually began to thin out, and she stopped on the edge of a field just as the sun started to set on the horizon. Unlike the white sun of Endra, this burnt in the sky like an orange moon. The field stretched away before her, sloping down into a deep valley. The grass was green and smelt sweet. She licked at it with her tongue and enjoyed the little moisture she found covering its fine blades. The drops of water wakened her taste buds somehow, and she suddenly felt hungry – ravenous. Willow could never remember feeling so hungry.
A chill wind swept out of the valley and brought with it the smell of other animals. She hadn’t smelt anything quite like it before – but it smelt good, and her stomach somersaulted with delight. As Willow slowly made her way across the open field, she noticed that her senses seemed to be alive somehow – burning inside of her. But as the smell of the other animals got stronger, she realised that it wasn’t just the feeling of hunger which was driving her forward – it was instinct, too. At the foot of the valley, the scent became so strong that it was almost overpowering. A thin, stringy line of dribble swung from her jaw and she flicked it away with her tongue. Her bright red eyes glowed fiercely in the approaching darkness. Willow quickened her pace.
Then she saw them, a herd of creatures like she had never seen before. They were smaller than her, their bodies covered in a white woollen coat, their faces black. They made a bleating noise, and this excited Willow. As her instincts took over, Willow crouched low in the long grass and crept towards the animals. Their smell became intoxicating and the desire to leap from her hiding place and attack was overwhelming. But she held back, making her way towards them, crouched so low that her fur-covered belly almost touched the ground. The creatures continued to bleat as they chewed the grass, unaware Willow was almost upon them.
Then, launching herself forward on her hind legs, Willow sprang into the night, her huge claws and red eyes glinting in the moonlight. The sheep scattered, but there were some who just looked back, startled, wondering what had caused the others to race away. For one of them it was too late, as the giant wolf flew out of the night, sinking its razor-sharp teeth into its throat.
The sheep made a whiny noise as blood, sticky and hot, gushed into Willow’s mouth. Willow’s stomach felt the promise of food, and she sank her jaws around the creature, its spine crushing beneath her hold. She tore the sheep apart in three quick shakes of her colossal head and began to eat. Ravenous, she ate, the taste of the animal’s flesh sedating her hunger. There was a sudden BANG from behind her. Willow lifted her head and looked back, red meat and flesh swinging from her jaws. At first, Willow wondered if it wasn’t the sound of her doorway reappearing. But the bang came again, and this time there was a bright flash of white light. Crouching, and smacking the meat from her jaws with her tongue, she heard another bang and then another flash of light. In that sudden brightness, Willow saw what looked like a man approaching, and it was the weapon he held in his hands that had made the noise and brought the light.
“Filthy goddamn wolves,” the man roared, letting off another shot at Willow.
The ground around her almost seemed to explode as the shot thundered into the ground by her paws. Willow leapt backwards, and howled.
“I’m not scared of no wolf!” the man shouted, now running towards her. “Get off me land!” He fired again, the air around Willow exploding with another BANG and flash of light.
Willow snarled at him, her snout rolling back to reveal her teeth. She didn’t want to hurt him. Not a man – a human.
Then when the man was just feet from her, she looked upon his face, and now it was his turn to look shocked.
“So they were right,” he gasped, raising his gun again. “They tried to tell us that those stories about the giant wolf appearing in London were just lies. They tried to kid us about the
videos on the Net being fakes – but I knew there was something to it. Too many people saw...” before he had finished, he fired again.
Willow scrambled around, her long, white tail knocking the shotgun from the farmer’s hands. He cried out in shock, not through pain, as Willow bounded away across the field. As she went, the night lit up again and again as the farmer fired at her retreating figure. With plumes of white breath coiling from between her jaws and her heart racing, she reached the edge of the valley and the wooded area. Looking back, she could see the outline of the farmer against the moonlight. Turning, she made her way back into the woods, and then stopped.
There was another. He stepped from between the trees. Willow scuttled backwards on her giant paws and snarled at him. This human seemed unafraid of her as he stood before her. There was a smell about him too – a smell that she couldn’t help but recognise.
Then, looking into her eyes, the man took another step closer and said, “If you want to carry on living, Noxas, you had better come with me.”
Chapter Four
William–the-wolf-Weaver lowered the man they had found out in the desert against the wall of the rocky overhang, where they had decided to take shelter. Neanna crawled into the furthest corner and pulled her tattered cloak about herself. As she lay curled on her side, all that was visible were her bright blue eyes shining out of the gloom. The floor of the overhang was littered with the dusty skeletons of creatures that either had been eaten, or had fallen down dead and rotted away. Just enough daylight seeped in through the gap of the rocks to show them that nothing living, other than them, lurked in the shadows.
Feeling quite safe, Captain Bom’s armour clinked and clacked as he sat crossed-legged against the far wall and continued to suck thoughtfully on his empty pipe. He stared at the odd-looking man, which Zach and William were now studying.
“I don’t think he is a man at all,” Zach said, leaning in close and studying the odd-looking skin which covered the man’s face. He gingerly touched the skin with his fingertips and it felt cold and leathery.
“I think the ‘on-off’ switch sticking out of his neck gave that away,” William woofed, as he too crouched down so he could take a better look.
“It’s not just the switch,” Zach breathed, carefully pulling back the man’s face from beneath his chin. “Take a look at this!”
“Whoa,” William gasped, and stroked the long straggly hair which dangled from beneath his chin. With his bulbous glasses just inches from the man’s face, he added, “What’s with all the cogs and pistons?”
Zach looked at the intricate mass of tiny cogs, pistons, and levers which were attached to the man’s skull. “I think he is like some kind of mechanical man – like a robot or something.”
“What’s a robot?” William asked, glancing at Zach through his telescopic glasses.
“It’s a machine that does things,” Zach tried to explain, but couldn’t find the right words.
“Like that train you took us on back in your world?” William asked him.
“Kinda, I guess,” Zach said. “Robots are more like humans. But I’ve never seen one before. They don’t really exist in my world.”
“Like werewolves and vampires don’t really exist in your world, yet really they do,” William reminded him.
“It’s different,” Zach breathed, lowering the skin back over the man’s face. “We have robots, but they are really basic. They can’t think for themselves. They do simple things. They don’t have skin, hair, eyes, and hands, nor do they sit up on their own.”
“But they have on and off switches, right?” William woofed, reaching behind the man’s head again.
“No, don’t do that...” Bom suddenly shouted.
But his warning came too late and William flipped the switch with one of his claws. The man lurched forward again, and out of the wind, Zach and William could hear the sound of the tiny pistons and cogs whizzing and whirring beneath his fake-looking skin. The man blinked as if coming out of a dream, and fixed Zach and William with his dead, black eyes.
“Who are you?” he asked again, as if the time it had taken William to carry him from the desert to beneath the rocky overhang had never existed. It was like this man was still caught halfway through the conversation he had been having with them some time ago.
“Who are you?” Zach asked right back and stood up, creating some space between him and the mechanical man.
“I’m Doctor Faraday, model one” he said, and his voice still sounded flat and synthesised. Faraday’s voice seemed to lack any kind of feeling or emotion. It was monotone.
“What do you mean ‘model?’” Zach asked him, his fingertips never too far from his crossbows. “Are there more of you?”
“That is correct,” Faraday said back, his blank eyes staring straight ahead.
“Oh, great,” Bom grumbled from the far side of the overhang.
Ignoring him, William asked, “Are you a man or a machine?”
“I’m mechanical,” Faraday said flatly.
“Is there a difference?” William asked, glancing back at Zach.
Zach shrugged his shoulders and said, “I don’t think so.”
“What are you?” Neanna suddenly spoke up from beneath her cloak.
”I am the result of what happens when advanced technology falls into the hands of those who really don’t know how to use it,” Faraday said, jumping up with a speed not expected from a man constructed of cogs, pistons, and levers.
Faraday looked at Zachary, who now stood with his crossbows drawn and clenched in each fist. He turned his black eyes on William, who now had his loaded catapult drawn.
“What technology? Whose hands?” Zachary pushed, his crossbows aimed at Faraday’s head.
“Human technology in the Mechanical Man’s hands,” he replied, seemingly unmoved that he had weapons aimed at him.
“But you’re the mechanical man, right?” William asked, as some of the branches in the fire gave off snapping sounds, sending a flurry of sparks upwards.
“That’s what I have been trying to tell you – there are more like me,” Faraday said, his pale, leathery skin and dead, black eyes reflecting the firelight. “I didn’t make myself or the others – we were made by a human. It was he who was called the Mechanical Man.”
“So where is this man now?” Zachary asked.
“Dead,” Faraday said, his synthesised voice showing no emotion. He then began to brush the sand and dirt from the sleeves of his flight suit. As he worked, the sound of whizzing and whirring could be heard.
“So you’re definitely not human?” Zach asked him, unable to believe that this man – machine – could look so lifelike, move with such speed and precision.
“I might have been once,” Faraday said, and again he showed no emotion in his voice. He sounded like he didn’t care, or that it didn’t matter. It was as if he had no feelings.
“But you’re different from us,” Bom cut in.
“And you’re different from me – but not that different,” Faraday said back, now kicking the dust from his boots, and brushing it from the grooves and folds of the flight suit he was wearing.
“Well, at least we have faces,” William barked.
The man touched the cloth that covered his face and said, “My face doesn’t always look like this. In fact, when properly maintained, it’s just like yours. It was what happened in Clockwork City that did this to me.”
“So it does exist then?” Neanna asked from the shadows. I watched her pale blue eyes flicker from Faraday to me.
The stranger took his hand away from his face. “Yes,” he said flatly. “But before I explain what happened there, please lower your weapons. You couldn’t kill me, even if you tried.”
Chapter Five
The Delf shuffled up the spiral staircase to the top of the Splinter. The stone steps seemed unending, and several times she stopped, lent against the wall, and mopped the sweat away which streamed from her wrinkled brow and down the sid
es of her face. As she gasped for air, maggots oozed from her nostrils and crawled from the corners of her puckered mouth. The Delf knocked them away, and they dropped onto the steps where they wriggled away into the shadows.
With her bag of potions and charts, she continued upwards, her breath laboured until she reached the top of the Splinter. At the top, she pushed open the door and shuffled into the Queen’s chamber. Much of the room was cast in shadow. Candles, which were attached to black iron spikes, barely lit the room, and the Delf peered around, in search of her brother. Unable to see him, the witch stepped further into the room and stood at the foot of the Queen’s bed. The Delf looked down upon the fragile figure. The Queen looked young, no more than a teenager, and the Delf despised her youth and beauty. She was like the girl, Anna Black, but like her, she would soon be dead. The Queen’s skin was so very pale, almost translucent. Her long hair was fine like cotton, and the Delf had expected the Queen to have looked emaciated and drawn – near death – not as if she were simply asleep.
“She grows stronger,” a voice rasped from behind her. The Delf turned to see her brother standing behind her.
“Brother,” she whispered and went to him. Wrapping one arm about his waist, she reached beneath his hood with her free hand, and ran her broken fingernails down the length of his face. His skin felt cold, like ice, and she could feel the coarse stitching which held his flesh together. Tracing his cracked lips with one of her fingers, he let his swollen tongue slide from his mouth. He wetted her finger with it. The Delf shuddered and withdrew her hand from beneath his hood.
“You feel so cold, brother,” the Delf breathed, her foul breath stinking of rotten meat. “You promised that we would soon be as we once were – beautiful.”
