The White City

by John Claude Bemis

  “Dim the lantern some,” Ray said to Si.

  She frowned. “Why?”

  “We don’t know how far down we’ll have to travel. And we need the oil to last.”

  Si did not question him further. She turned the damper down until only the thinnest light illuminated the path before them.

  They had been walking for what seemed hours when Conker whispered, “Something’s following us.”

  Ray looked back. The lights of the workers had long since disappeared. Through the din of the Machine he heard it—the clunk of heavy footsteps.

  “What do we do?” Si asked, tightening her fingers around her knife.

  “Keep going,” Conker said.

  As they descended, the footsteps grew louder. Ray kept looking back, trying to find whatever moved in the dark. He could see nothing. He wanted to tell Si to turn off the lantern, but how would they find their way? Even if they didn’t fall from the ramp’s edge, they would have to walk slower, and that was not what they needed to do.

  “What is it?” Si whispered.

  “A Hoarhound,” Ray guessed.

  Conker turned to look at Ray. His eyes glowed orange from the lantern’s flame. “We ought to be able to handle a Hoarhound.”

  Ray nodded. “We’ll have to be careful. Not much room on this ramp for a fight.”

  They went farther. All the while, Ray tried to find a spot to lie in wait for the pursuing Hound. There had been short shafts, niches in the machinery every so often. That must have been where the Hoarhound had been hiding as they passed, a guardian placed by the Gog to protect his Machine. Why it had not attacked them already, Ray was not sure, but it was pursuing them now.

  Ray heard a strange sound like the hissing of a boiler, and he looked up in time to see flames illuminate the dark hundreds of feet above. Then the fire and noise vanished.

  “What was that?” Conker gasped.

  Ray had not been able to see well, but it seemed the flames had shown a snout, some monstrous jaws.

  “Whatever it is,” Si said, “that’s no Hoarhound!”

  Then the pace of the footsteps increased, striking heavily on the ramp.

  “Do we face it?” Conker growled, holding the hammer with both his hands.

  “No,” Ray said. “Just run!”

  Si went first, the lantern before her. The slope was slight, but the iron gave little traction, and they ran hesitantly. There could be no misstep, no slipping or losing one’s balance with that gaping void only feet away.

  On the opposite side of the shaft, a dark form was moving. Si’s lantern did not illuminate that far, but whatever was after them was getting closer. The ramp beneath their feet began shaking with the weight of the beast.

  “It’s coming!” Si shouted.

  “Go!” Conker roared. “Go faster!”

  Ray could hear the clockwork monster’s claws ringing out on the metal rails, the scraping of iron, the pumping of pistons. Conker stopped first to spin around. “Get behind me,” he said, rearing up with the hammer. Ray ran past him and then turned to look back.

  The beast skidded on the ramp a dozen or more yards away and opened its jaws wide. It gave a piercing hiss like leaking gas, and then flames jetted from its mouth. Ray flung up an arm, but fortunately the flames did not extend far enough yet to reach them.

  “What is that?” Conker shouted. Ray stared openmouthed at the monster. Nearly twice the size of a Hoarhound, the machine bore little resemblance to any particular animal. It perched on four legs and had a long snout, but its body and head were nearer to a locomotive or some great engine than to a beast. It was a pulsating mass of moving parts encased in pipes and iron plates.

  It growled, and as it did, glowing fumes filled its mouth. A monstrous assembly of grinding teeth spun on cylinders where its lips should have been. Whatever they touched would be sucked into ragged saw blades mounted in its gullet.

  Its slot-like eyes glowed like a volcanic vent, and as Ray stared into them, he realized this creature existed only to protect the Machine. It had been forged and brought to life for this moment, to stop the next bearer of the Nine Pound Hammer who might fulfill John Henry’s destiny.

  “Conker,” Ray said, hardly able to keep his voice from shaking. “You can’t fight this.”

  “We got no choice,” Conker said, not taking his eyes from the clockwork sentinel. He was bracing his stance, flexing his fingers on the stout handle of the hammer.

  Si grabbed Ray’s arm. “Give me the spike.”

  “What?”

  “I can do it,” Si said. “You’ve brought us here. I can help Conker. You’ve got to hold that thing off. Only you can do it, Ray.”

  Ray hesitated only a moment before unbuttoning his shirt. He pushed aside Redfeather’s copper to open the toby. He snatched out the golden spike and put it in Si’s hand.

  The toby trembled against his chest. Ray felt the tingling rise in him. It was fainter. Although he was in the Gloaming—the source of the toby’s collective power—he was in the most corrupted part of the shadow world.

  “Good luck, Ray,” Si said.

  The clockwork sentinel took a step closer, bringing its heavy paws down to shake the ramp.

  “You can’t do this alone, Ray!” Conker said.

  “I have to,” Ray said, stepping past Conker and facing the hissing beast. “Si’s right. She can hold the spike. You two must go. This is no Hoarhound.”

  “Which is why—”

  “Conker!” Si shouted. “It’s time to leave.”

  Ray took a step closer to the sentinel. His muscles tightened as he tried to draw up the power against this monster of the Gog. The iron tracks between him and the beast whined, the metal beginning to curl. “Go!”

  Conker backed a step, then turned to run with Si.

  The clockwork sentinel hissed as the metal track twisted before it. Ray felt his body trembling as he pushed out with his palms. The repellent force like opposing magnets grew, and the track began to tear from its bolts. Ray concentrated on the ramp, hoping to use it against the creature.

  The sentinel threw its massive head from side to side and then leaped forward. The erupting rails pummeled its sides, but the monster fought through it, clutching for perch with its claws and driving itself forward. Smoke plumed from the glowing bores of its nose.

  Still pushing out with his hands, Ray backed up, trying to find some other way to knock the creature into the void. He caught sight of Si’s lantern from the corner of his eye. They were farther down, descending the immense spiral.

  The momentary distraction was enough to weaken the repellent force coming from his outstretched palms. The beast lunged from the breaking track and landed a few feet before Ray, its claws squealing on metal.

  Ray took a step back, nearly toppling, and thrust a hand forward. The clockwork sentinel snapped its massive head to one side but then brought its snout down as if pushing against some heavy object. Flames glowed at the seams of its skull as it took a step forward. The pressure from the beast’s effort suddenly pressed back into Ray, lifting him from his feet and throwing him against the churning wall of machinery.

  As Ray caught hold of a metal bracket, the string from the toby was sucked into the teeth of a gear. The cord drew tight against his throat. Hanging by one hand, Ray snatched at the string strangling him. It broke. Holding the toby tightly, he flipped to one side as the clockwork sentinel rammed into the spot where Ray had just been. The spinning cylinders of teeth ground into the wall, ripping apart machinery.

  Ray found a toehold and kicked, reaching up with his free hand and clutching the edges of casing until he climbed higher. The beast reared up on its hind legs and snapped its grinding, saw-toothed jaws. Ray had time only to turn and catch a foothold before the beast lunged for him again.

  Ray held out the toby. The repellent pressure returned, bearing down on the sentinel’s skull. Crush it, Ray thought. He focused all his will on trying to drive back the sentinel like he had done wit
h the clockwork men. But this monster was too powerful. The sentinel rose taller, grabbing at the machinery with its front claws and getting closer to Ray.

  The grinding teeth whirled. The sentinel opened its jaws, exposing the iron inner works of its throat. Gas hissed from its gullet, and flame exploded. The white-hot jet blasted Ray. He shut his eyes. He was certain he was dead, but he felt no pain.

  Ray realized the flames had gone out. He drew in a huge breath. He saw his hand was still extended before him holding the toby, nearly in the mouth of the clockwork sentinel. His skin and the fabric of the toby were not burned. Then he remembered Redfeather’s copper.

  Ray bore down hard with the toby, pressing out with invisible force against the sentinel. He pried the jaws wider and wider. But at the same time, the beast was leaning closer. Ray’s hand was in the monster’s jaws—those grinding, spinning teeth. Fire erupted once more. Ray forced open his eyes.

  He could not falter for a moment. If the clockwork sentinel broke through Ray’s spell, if it clamped those jaws shut, he’d lose his hand … if not more.

  Ray felt all his energy directed into his palm, all his powers welling in that single outstretched hand. Had it been the same for his father when he had confronted the Hoarhound in the Terrebonne?

  The iron frame of the sentinel’s mouth shook as it struggled to bite down.

  “No!” Ray cried, forcing every bit of strength into that hand. The broken string from the toby dangled near the whirling teeth.

  The jaws drew closer.

  In an instant, the string was caught in the teeth and the toby was torn from his hand before disappearing into the saw-blade depths of the sentinel’s mouth.

  Ray pulled his hand back just as the teeth closed with a terrible clank and grinding. Without the repellent force bearing down on the sentinel, it fell forward, driving its head into the machine-encased wall, tearing away metal in chunks. Ray leaped from his perch, falling out into the void.

  His fingers disappeared. His arms and legs transformed. Feathers bloomed from his skin, and his body shrank.

  The sentinel dropped to the ramp and reared out, snapping at the crow.

  Ray circled around, gliding on outstretched wings. The sentinel spewed a stream of white flame. Ray banked, twirling over in a loop. He dropped down on top of the clockwork sentinel’s back.

  His talons clutched at a pipe running down its spine. As the claws closed over it, Ray crossed.

  Lights flashed, and the enormous well of the Gog’s Machine vanished.

  In the dark, he felt his beak scrape against the soft, rotting wood of the Wolf Tree. The weight—of the dying Tree, of the Gog’s terrible guardian in his talons—was tremendous, and Ray pumped his wings fiercely to rise.

  Dropping back again and again, Ray fought to fly higher. He climbed slowly until he no longer could. He had traveled far in the Gloaming and knew he wouldn’t come out in Grevol’s hall, but where he would return he wasn’t sure.

  Ray crossed again, lights flashing as he left the pathway of the Wolf Tree and emerged in the open air.

  He let go of the clockwork sentinel.

  The breeze of the lake rose up under his wings. Rain pelted his back, beading off his oily feathers and trailing behind him. Lightning flashed, and Ray looked down as he flew to watch the sentinel—transformed now into a steel trap—fall into the waters of Lake Michigan. It splashed once far below and disappeared.

  Ray pumped his wings, turning to the dim, ghostly lights of the Expo. Over the white buildings, he saw fires blazing and gunshots flashing off the heavy smoke and streaming storm clouds.

  Dawn should have come hours ago. But the Darkness hovered over the city.

  Lightning flashed again, striking in the thick of the battle.

  Ray flew on. He could not go back for Conker and Si. They were alone now. He had to reach Nel and the others. He had to help defeat the Gog.

  But how? The toby was lost.

  CONKER LOOKED UP AT THE DARK. “WHAT JUST HAPPENED?”

  Si stared and then cocked her head to listen. She brought up the lantern and opened the damper. Conker blinked in the brightness. The lantern light reached the far side of the shaft and a few levels higher on the circling ramp, but they saw and heard nothing.

  “Ray!” Conker boomed. He cocked his head, but all he heard was the incessant roar of the Machine.

  “He’s gone,” Si said.

  Conker stared a moment longer. “That beast is gone too. I don’t hear nothing.”

  Si lowered the lantern’s flame and turned back to the path before them. She nodded at Conker. “Let’s go.”

  “Whenever you’re ready,” Conker said.

  Side by side, they walked past the clattering, chugging machinery. The darkness enveloped them but for the faint bubble of sooty light escaping from the lantern. Conker watched Si as she stared at the golden spike in her hand.

  “Are you afraid,” Conker asked, “of what we’ve got to do?”

  Si closed her fingers over the spike and looked up at Conker. Fear filled her eyes. He had never seen Si look like that. Brave Si. Fierce Si. She was trembling. Conker brought his hand around her shoulder and pulled her close against his side.

  “Can you do it?” Conker asked. “Can you hold the spike while I drive it?”

  Si pressed her face against him. “And bring about our deaths?”

  “And end the Gog’s Machine,” Conker said gently.

  They walked on like this, Si shaking at Conker’s side as they went deeper and deeper. Si murmured something, and Conker asked her, “What did you say?”

  “Why us?” she repeated. “Why does it have to be us?”

  “There’s no one else. It’s just you and me.”

  She wept for a time, her tears soaking his shirt. Conker said nothing, but he rubbed his rough palm across her arm and let her mourn.

  “I should not have come with you,” Si said after a time. She brought her sleeve up to her nose to wipe her face. She was still trembling, shivering almost as if with cold, but the Gog’s pit was hot and thick with fume-laden air. “I should have stayed with Buck and never come.”

  “If you had, then I would be alone now. And who would help me?”

  “Help you,” Si scoffed halfheartedly. “By holding the spike—”

  “That’s not what I mean,” Conker said.

  Si looked up at him, her eyes red and her cheeks blotchy. “How am I helping you?”

  “You give me courage.”

  Si scowled. “Don’t make fun of me.”

  “I ain’t.”

  She looked back up at him again. “Are you really afraid, Conk?”

  “Yes,” he said.

  She stared at him while they walked and then lowered her gaze and slipped from his arm. She took his hand and drew in a deep breath. “You give me courage too,” she whispered.

  Deeper and deeper they spiraled down until Conker could no longer fathom the enormity of the Gog’s Machine. The mass of writhing parts, turning and hissing and pumping, clouded his mind like poisonous black smoke.

  They were walking slower now, each step a struggle and a terrible effort. But it was not his body that was weary. Each step brought Conker closer to a feeling of desperation, of hopelessness.

  Si fell to one knee and did not try to rise. She lowered until she sat on the metal lip of the track. “We’ll never reach it,” she panted.

  Conker sat beside her. He leaned back and looked at the shaft above. The black was as complete as anything he had ever witnessed. All other shadow was nothing more than haze compared to this void.

  He sat up and planted one foot on the track’s iron rail, forcing himself to rise. He held out a hand. “Come on.”

  Si shook her head, and he let his hand drop. He stared into the blackness below. “Give me that lantern.”

  Si looked up sharply and then after a moment’s hesitation handed him the lantern. Conker took it and extended his arm over the side. He turned up the damper and bright
light bloomed.

  “The bottom!” he gasped.

  Si leaped to her feet and clutched Conker’s waist as she peered down. The light reflected off a damp floor several flights below.

  “Let’s go,” she said, snatching back the lantern and hurrying down the ramp.

  In a matter of minutes, they came to the end of the ramp. The track extended several yards, disappearing in a rotten, wet tangle of roots making up the floor. Conker and Si walked out. She held up the lantern so they could see their surroundings.

  It was some sort of cavity with soft roots underfoot and walls encased with pulsating machinery.

  “There.” Si pointed.

  Conker turned to face a gap in the machinery. They walked together toward the opening. Holding forth the lantern, they saw a tunnel extending into the Machine.

  “The heart,” Conker whispered. He pulled the Nine Pound Hammer closer to his chest. He looked down at Si. They nodded to each other, then entered the tunnel.

  The walls were lined with machinery embedded in the roots. Although the passage was tall and for the most part wide, Conker had to squeeze through sections where spinning rods extended out in their path.

  After they had walked for a time, Si blew out her breath in frustration. “How far back is it?”

  Conker shook his head, and as he did the lantern’s flame flickered and dimmed. They looked at each other nervously, but the flame did not die.

  “Reckon it won’t last much longer,” Conker said.

  “I’ll cut it down as low as it will go,” Si said, and darkened it until only a faint light escaped. Their eyes adjusted. It was enough, and they continued forward.

  They traveled farther and farther, and every so often the lantern’s light sputtered. After a time they came to a junction. The path split three ways.

  Conker peered down the passages and asked, “Which way do we go? Which way you reckon is the heart?”

  “Straight?” Si suggested.

  “What if it ain’t? How long would we travel before realizing we’d gone the wrong way?”

  “I don’t know, Conk. What’s there to do but pick one?”

  “This is too important for guessing!” he growled.