“May-may-may I be of service?” asked a deep, reverberating voice.
The accent was Germanic and the tone hollow, as if the words had come from what could only be described as a tin can.
“Are you—are you injured?”
“No. I’m okay, thank you,” Charlie replied, his eyes drifting up to see that he was talking to a figure made of large sheets of polished metal. Heavy bolts lined the sides of its torso, their seams dripping oil.
“Rohmetall, Steam Man Number Three, at-at your service.” The figure gestured a mock bow, punctuated by a long hiss of vapor that shot with a whistle from the narrow pipe welded to the side of the contraption’s head. He took a step forward, and Charlie could hear and see wisps of steam escaping from the metal couplings and articulated joints.
“Oh, hello. I’m Charlie—”
“Yes-yes, I have spoken with Mrs. Winthrope. Ch-Ch-Charlie Cooper,” Rohmetall interrupted. “May I be of service, Ch-Ch-Charlie Cooper? You appear to be injured.”
The palm of Charlie’s hand was indeed scraped from his fall.
“Aw, it’s nothing, really,” he said, wiping the blood on his pants.
“That-that is not a good idea, especially out in the wilds. I will get you a ban-bandage,” Rohmetall stuttered through his glitch. “Please come this way.”
He took a clunky step and extended his hand. Each finger was also articulated, so it could move freely, although when together, they looked more like the vise that was clamped to the end of Old Joe’s workbench back home. Charlie took hold and Rohmetall pulled him to his feet.
“Starting to-tomorrow it would be wise to pay better attention to your surroundings-dings.”
Charlie looked at the smear of blood on his pants and was reminded of the Prime Minister’s and Mrs. Winthrope’s warnings.
“Do not fear. We will see to that stain as well.”
Charlie followed Rohmetall down the hall. He was surprised by how quickly the steam man could move considering his crude construction.
“I was assembled here, in this very castle—very castle. There were two prototypes before me; I am the third-third-third attempt, and I would like to think the most successful. I have a steam-driven generator that is fueled by minimal amounts of c-c-coal or wood—coal or wood. The kettle door is on my left side, so please be careful as it can be hot.”
They entered another foyer and Rohmetall stopped. “Please-please wait here.”
Charlie watched him clank forward and disappear around a dark corner. Noting the faint smell of coal fire that was left in the air, he stood there waiting and couldn’t help but hear the low mumble of voices that carried from a set of large double doors on the other side of the foyer. The doors were cracked slightly, allowing only a sliver of light to escape. Counting his steps to himself, Charlie snuck across the hall and paused when he reached the light.
“And why not? You will already be in the Agrarian Plains, easily two-thirds of the way . . .”
Charlie recognized the Prime Minister’s distinctive accent immediately.
“Aye, yes,” a familiar gruff voice replied. “But the final stretch is by far the most difficult and treacherous. Not many have crossed the sands, let alone the Vast Inland Sea, to even be sure of what lies beyond.”
Charlie moved closer and stood against the wall beside the doors.
“All the reason more to make the journey,” the Prime Minister said.
“I see what you’re after. You’ve been trying to map that section of the wilds for years . . . or find someone weak-minded enough to do it for you . . .”
“You are mistaken. It is not just the maps. It’s for the boy . . .”
“Yes. And that is the point. He is just a boy, a living boy, I might add. If you want to keep him that way, he has no place here. And what is it about this particular boy that has brought on this sudden benevolence? Has your own survivor’s guilt reared its head as of late?”
“No. It is nothing like that at all,” the Prime Minister replied. “It just seems that he is troubled, angry—there is something that haunts him. A feeling I am sure you can appreciate. He needs thisss; he needs to understand.”
“And you need your precious maps.”
“I am afraid the boy has lost his way, and we can help him,” the Prime Minister continued. “You of all people should know what it is like to be lost.”
“Enough. It is too far, too dangerous. A human boy would never make it.”
“Oh, I do not know about that. This boy, he has heart,” the Prime Minister said. “I have never seen someone so gripped by fear, so very scared, yet he still took the first step forward. He willingly entered the tunnel, for someone else’s benefit, not his own, I might add. Not too many can say thisss, and that itself says something.”
“He came here, to this valley, willingly? I agree the boy is troubled, hopeless is what I’d say.”
“Come now,” the Prime Minister went on. “At least meet with him . . .”
“I met him this afternoon in the stables. He likes horses.”
Charlie pulled back from the door. Could this giant, the horseman, be the lord of this castle? Was this towering, deformed creature supposed to help him find Billy?
“It is an honor that your Prime Minister has even asked this of you,” the Prime Minister said. “It would be considered a duty served for your government.”
“I am already in service with this ludicrous diplomatic venture to the Agrarian Plains, and now this? A fool’s errand to some lost island with me playing nursemaid to a boy? Ha.” The giant laughed.
“Well, as your Prime Minister, I am afraid I must insist . . .”
“You insist?” the giant said.
“Yes, I insist,” the Prime Minister said, enunciating the final syllable with extra emphasis.
Then, it was silent. After a moment, Charlie leaned forward, trying to get a glimpse of the room, which appeared to be a large library filled with more books.
“Charlie, I believe that is you breathing heavily in the hall,” the Prime Minister said, so suddenly that it startled Charlie. “Would you please come in, join us?”
“Uh, yes. Excuse me, sirs . . .” Charlie cleared his throat, pushed open the heavy double doors, and stepped into the room.
“May I present Mr. Charlie Cooper,” the Prime Minister announced with a dramatic wave of his hand.
“Yes, yes, Charlie Cooper,” the giant said dismissively.
The large, disfigured man turned to a desk and picked up a hefty tome. He seemed different from when they met in the stable. He stood straight and appeared quite dignified before the fireplace, no longer wearing his heavy, hooded cloak but instead a suit of fine hand-tailored fabric. His hair was jet black like a raven’s wing, and he had it pulled back and tied in a tight braid that shone almost purple in the firelight. Charlie looked up at the giant and again saw the dark of his sunken eyes. But perhaps the shock of their first meeting had worn off, because now Charlie found him far less repulsive.
“Charlie, as a service to the Council of the Congressional Caucus of Vampyreishtat, this gentleman has agreed to take you—” the Prime Minister started.
“Let us be clear,” the giant interrupted. “I have done nothing of the sort.”
“As your Prime Minister, why, yes, I think you have,” the Prime Minister replied with a tight smile. “Now, there is much to discuss, plans to work out, so may I suggest that we join Mrs. Winthrope for dinner,” he said as he walked out of the room. “And young Charlie must get to bed early,” he called back from the foyer. “A long journey lies ahead . . . much to discuss . . . yes, much to discusssss indeed.”
Charlie supposed he should follow the Prime Minister to the dining room but lingered a moment as the hulking man read from one of his many books. Charlie wanted to tell the giant that he agreed with him. That he also wondered if
he was capable of making this journey. And if they were being completely honest, he was scared.
“I suppose you are hungry, then?” the giant said without looking up from his book.
“A bit, sir. It was a long trip today.”
“A long trip?” the giant roared. “Ha, you have no idea what awaits you out there in the dark, do you, boy? This is just the tip of the iceberg, as they say.”
Charlie stared down at the leather of his new boots and saw that he had already scuffed one of the toes before the journey had even begun.
“Well, then,” the giant said brusquely, snapping the book shut and crossing the room. “We will have a good meal, at least.”
Charlie hesitated; he felt small and weak next to the giant.
“Come now, I will not invite you again.”
Charlie did as he was told and followed. As they entered the foyer, he noticed that he was already having trouble keeping up with the giant’s long strides, so he quickened his steps not wanting to lose the man, and this just on the way to dinner.
— chapter 14 —
The Monster’s Prayer
IT WAS ANOTHER fine meal. They sat under the stars at a long stone table, which stood at the edge of the courtyard overlooking the precipice. Rohmetall tended a fire nearby made from the trunks of large oak trees, and the fire burned steadily behind them, casting the night in an eerie glow.
It seemed that by the second course it had been decided. Once his official diplomatic business for the Council out on the Agrarian Plains had concluded, the giant would take Charlie as far as the edge of the woods where the spirits were known to gather. It was apparent from his demeanor that the hulking man was still reluctant to accept this assignment, but he sat as a proper host regardless, and once the dinner plates had been cleared, he offered his pipe tobacco to the Prime Minister. They smoked as they discussed the proposed plan, often veering off course into debates over politics, philosophy, or science. Despite the occasional gruff response, Charlie was impressed by how calm the giant was as he argued his case or point of view. He thought that the entire evening was fascinating and found himself, much like the previous night at the Prime Minister’s, strangely at ease in this intimidating man’s presence.
As they waited for dessert, Mrs. Winthrope debriefed the table on the current state of each of the regions that they would pass. They would travel light, riding upon two of the giant’s Clydesdales with a third pulling a supply cart that would be driven by Rohmetall for as long as it was needed, or capable of passing over the rough terrain that they were sure to encounter once they had moved out of the previously mapped territories.
For the first leg of the trip, they would be considered on “official business” to the Agrarian Plains. Once there, the giant was charged with the delivery of documents from the Council of the Congressional Caucus of Vampyreishtat and would speak with the Mumiya in an effort to curtail an all-out war between the various disputing factions. Then from the Agrarian Plains, they would cross the desert and the Vast Inland Sea to the island where the woods were said to be located. The Prime Minister would join them along the way as his schedule would allow but warned he should not be counted on, as his visits would be brief and, because of security reasons, largely unannounced. Still he promised he would be watching and kept abreast with news of their journey via the giant’s official dispatches and other sources, which would go unnamed, also because of security reasons. He reiterated his expectation that they would survey and map any previously uncharted territories and that he looked forward to seeing the result upon their return, which he projected would be before the heavy snows covered the high mountain passes. As the discussion wound down, Charlie made a mental note to write another letter home, thinking his family would appreciate the update and latest schedule.
After dinner, the party moved to a large room, a laboratory under the giant’s courtyard. The room was filled with contraptions and heavy machines, not to mention hundreds of books, some on shelves and some in random towering stacks. Charlie recognized what he was sure were the various parts and remains of Steam Man Numbers One and Two, sitting steam-less on workbenches, their eyes empty and hollow, much like their creator’s.
“You should read this cover to cover,” the giant said, handing Charlie an extremely large book.
Surprised by its weight, Charlie almost dropped it.
“Be careful there,” Mrs. Winthrope said. “That book is very old.”
Charlie looked at the spine and read out loud, “‘The Cryptozoologist’s Cyclopædia of World Creatures.’”
He blew the dust off the cover and opened the book’s moldy pages to a sketch of the Mongolian death worm. Though the image was in black and white, Charlie could see that its fanged teeth were dripping with bloody drool.
“Oh, a perfect suggestion, a little light reading just before bedtime,” the Prime Minister said, shifting through a stack of astrological maps and charts. “I must say, I am particularly fond of the author.”
Charlie turned to the back page and found a portrait of the Prime Minister in his more youthful days.
“Oh, we could go on through the night, but young Charlie here needs his rest,” Mrs. Winthrope said, ushering him toward the door.
“Ah, yes. We should all retire, I would think,” the Prime Minister added. “You will be leaving before the dawn, Charlie. The sooner you sleep, the sooner you will find yourself on your way.”
“Yes, sir, and thank you, to all of you,” Charlie said, not sure what to expect of the coming day.
Rohmetall led Charlie out of the laboratory and back across the courtyard. The night was clear and the stars abundant. Charlie stopped and looked up at the sky. He wondered, as he took it all in, if Billy or his parents and Old Joe weren’t looking up also and, just like him, wondering if he might be doing the same.
“May I be of service, Ch-Ch-Charlie Cooper?” Rohmetall asked, stopping next to the boy.
“No, just looking.”
The steam man leaned back and tilted his head. His eyes rotated as their three separate lenses layered on top of one another clicked into place.
“Yes, via lactea. Latin. Direct translation is ‘milky road.’ Known in the present day as the Milky Way-Way.” Rohmetall’s eyes shifted again. A whistle of steam emerged from his head and disappeared in the wind. “‘No one regards what is before his feet; we all gaze at the stars.’ Quintus Ennius, 239 to 169 BC-BC.”
The steam man turned and took a heavy metal step toward the castle.
“Ch-Ch-Charlie Cooper, this way, please.”
Charlie followed Rohmetall through the corridors to the steps and the foyer. A bell rang in a distant part of the house and the metal man stopped.
“That would be another guest who may require my service. Excuse me, Ch-Ch-Charlie Cooper, but do you know your way from here?”
“Yes, I can manage. Thank you, Mr. Rohmetall.”
“Then, please-please excuse me.” The metal man turned and clanked a few steps down the hall. With a display of his remarkable flexibility, he stopped and looked back over his shoulder without turning his lower half.
“‘I have loved the stars too fondly to be fearful of the night.’ Sarah ‘Sadie’ Williams, 1837 to 1868.” Rohmetall continued on his way, calling, “This is where we first met, Charlie Cooper. This is where we first met.”
Charlie watched the odd metal man go. Then, tucking the thick encyclopedia under his arm, he climbed the stairs, again noting their unusual size. They must be for the giant man, Charlie thought. He found his way to the landing, but stopped when he heard the thud of a closing door down the hall. The cold wind still blew in from the open window, although now the candles in the votive stand at the end of the corridor were lit, their flames flickering against the wall. Charlie looked down at the doorknob to his room. With the day’s excitement, he was tired, and knew he should just go in, but now i
n this strange place, his curiosity once again got the better of him.
At the end of the hall, to the side of the candle stand, Charlie found a wooden door, which was decorated with intricate carvings of mountains and a stream that led up to a great arctic ice field. He removed one of the candles to look closer at the scene and could see that there was a small figure standing on a mountaintop. The figure was staring out into the tundra and seemed lost among the many glaciers that were carved into the wood. Charlie leaned forward, but an icy draft blew and extinguished the candle. In the darkness, he could see a flicker of light from the other side, so he peered in through a star that had been hollowed out along the door’s border.
The room was dark except for a second set of votive candles. The giant, wearing his heavy cloak, knelt before the stand with a length of knotted rope wrapped through his immense fingers. Charlie watched as the giant lifted his head toward the candlelight and could see that his body seemed to almost collapse as he spoke.
“Oh, Frankenstein, my creator, generous and self-devoted being, I ask thee to pardon me; I, who irretrievable destroyed thee by destroying all thou lovedst. Alas, you are cold now, and cannot answer me. But I wait and listen patiently for your guidance.”
The giant dropped his head; the knotted rope tumbled down from his hand.
Frankenstein. Charlie stepped back, taking a deep breath. Frankenstein? He turned and hurried down the hall, quietly opening the door to his room. The fire was already lit, so he pulled off his boots and quickly slipped under the bedcovers.
In bed, Charlie continued to turn the idea over in his mind. Frankenstein. The giant said Frankenstein. Creator? Was he? Could he be? Charlie thought about the Frankenstein movies he had watched back home. Old Joe loved monster movies, especially those about Frankenstein, and Charlie would have bet money that they had seen almost all of them at some point or another, but the real Frankenstein’s monster? Charlie pulled the covers up to his chin and looked over at the book that had just been given to him.
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