When he looked at the platform, Regina had stepped forward and had raised her own spyglass. Knowing she was looking at him, he smiled and waved.
She dropped her hand with the glass to her side and glanced at Narcissa, who was still chanting, if possible, louder than before.
Boots could see the frustration through her body language, and realizing she had to handle this herself, strode through a door at the back of the platform. He was about to calculate the time he had as she traversed several flights of stairs when a door across the floor opened and she walked out carrying a large rifle and followed by two mechanical soldiers.
Her first shot grazed the material at the shoulder of his waistcoat. Before he could move, she had reloaded and was aiming her second shot. Fortunately, it went wide as she was startled by a large explosion to his right, as the exploding door spat wooden shrapnel into the room. Boots noted it was quite an explosion for the small device and decided to ask Burke for the design when they were back on the Swan.
The mechanical soldier had time to make a quarter turn before the second device exploded on its back, sending it stumbling forward and onto the floor. It thrust its arms forward, and its legs bent as if it were trying to get to its feet, though a large hole smoldered on its back, and Boots could see bits of flesh and blood, splattered around the mechanism along with a spray of oil and small bursts of steam. The mechanical shuddered and collapsed, unmoving.
A third shot whizzed by Boot’s right ear and ricocheted off the steel beam he stood by. He unslung his rifle and took a quick shot, more to buy him time than to actually hit the target. She ducked as the bullet sailed by her and into her right-flanking mechanical soldier. A ‘pop’ and whistle of steam sounded, telling him his bullet was not completely wasted.
Regina stepped back between the mechanicals as each thrust an arm forward and released multiple bursts of lead. Boots jumped right and slid behind the downed mechanical he had destroyed. He felt, as much as heard, the mechanical soldiers advancing toward him, each step rumbling through the stone floor.
Where is Burke? he thought, and as if called he saw a rush of men entering the room and fanning out. The forward group knelt before the door, shooting at the approaching mechanical soldiers and drawing fire as the other men took up positions behind odd crates and equipment to either side.
Boots looked over the top of the mechanical and saw the room was virtually cleared of people. The lab coated scientists and technicians that had once moved between machines, had now taken cover. A quick glance at the night sky on the ceiling caused his eyes to narrow momentarily, then widen in horror. Moving in the black pool of darkness generated by Tesla’s machine and the Duke’s chanting, were creatures, things with multiple eyes and tentacles. Though they already seemed very large, Boots realized they were at a great distance and if they continued to grow as they approached this portal, they would be gargantuan when they arrived, too big to fit through the hole.
An explosion drew Boots attention from the portal and he saw that Burke’s men had taken out one of Regina’s mechanical men, and Regina was no longer with them. He stood and looked around just in time to see her duck behind a steel column, and into a section of the building filled with floor to ceiling crates. She could wait, he needed to direct his energies to stopping Narcissa.
He looked at Burke, who was with the men covering the door. Burke met his eyes and scowled. He reached into a pouch, pulled a smaller pouch and tossed it to Boots. He caught it found it contained three doorknockers. Looking back at Burke, the commander made shewing motions with his hands. Boots nodded and bolted to the closest steel column. Looking down the line of columns, the path seemed clear since most of the activity was centered on Burke’s men.
Boots glanced up to the platform and was relieved to see Narcissa still chanting. He moved forward, behind crates and equipment, toward the far wall and the platform. Motion from the portal, caught his eye but he refused to look for fear that what he saw would grip his very soul and he would fail his mission. He removed the explosive devices from the bag and managed to stuff two in waistcoat pockets before a mechanical soldier stepped into his path. With the device already in his hand, he gave the wire the slightest of pulls and threw it at the mechanical.
While the bomb flew toward machine, the machine took aim on Boots and fired. Chips of crate flew around him as he ducked behind a machine that reminded him of a piano crossed with a top hat. The bomb exploded to Boots rear as he ran by the soldier’s position. A gear flew past him cutting through his shirt and nicking his arm. He winced but continued to move, only twenty feet more and he could move left toward the door Regina had come from. Then it was five feet, he was almost there, then the buttstock of a rifle shot out from behind a stack of crates and met the top of his head. Boots went to the floor and his eyes glazed to gray. A shower of sparks shot across his vision as he felt the pain.
Lady Regina Westbury stepped into view. “Mister Beacon, how nice of you to call on me, though I would have preferred you to have sent a card first. As you can see, I am already engaged in something. And as you can also see,” she pointed to the ceiling where the things he had seen were now so large, one of the beast more than filed the portal. “My guests will be arriving soon.”
The woman flipped the gun around and trained it on Boots. “When the old ones arrive, and My Lord Duke has ascended to his place among them, I will find your woman, Persi, and make her my toy, until she bores me at least.” She raised the gun. “Goodbye, Boots.”
A shot rang out and Boots waited for the impact but when none came he opened his eye to see Regina sliding down the wall, seemingly unconscious. He turned to look behind him, too quickly, and found the bang to his head was still in control. His eyes went dark for a few seconds and he sagged back to the floor, his head throbbing. He heard a shuffle then nothing. When he had regained his sight, there was no one. He got to his feet and stumbled to the door and into a small alcove. To the left sat a tall narrow cage, similar to the ascension cage on the Swan.
Boots stepped in, closed the door and pulled the lever back. The cage immediately moved up and five seconds later he was on a landing, the door to the platform stood in front of him. He charged his rifle and flung open the door, ready to shoot the Duke, no dialog required. The door opened but he found stepping onto the platform was like pushing through clear aspic. The substance did not allow him to breathe, so he attempted to step back but found the sponge cake had him, he could not go forward, he could not retreat, he could not breathe.
One thing that wasn’t affected was his vision and from where he stood, he could see Burke’s men, still fighting against the Duke’s forces, though they had gained ground and were now half way across the floor. Boots also noted an occasional set of concentric rings form in front of Narcissa. He eventually realized they were bullets hitting the surface of the substance but unable to penetrate the mass.
Then Boots looked into the portal and tried to scream. To his great horror, a single huge eye looked back. It disappeared but was quickly replaced by a tentacle, nearly as big around as the portal. It snaked in and out, as if testing the door, as a child tests the water of a pool before jumping in. Shaking his head in an attempt to maintain his sanity, Boots tried to level his weapon at Narcissa but he couldn’t move. He was trapped, incapable of helping anyone. It was then he realized that he still felt as if he couldn’t breathe. If he concentrated on it, he began to panic, but he had been trapped here for a few minutes and was still alive.
Regardless, he was only able to watch as the old ones breached his world through this portal. A sense of hopelessness began to creep in but then he felt a hand on his shoulder, pulling him backwards. He moved slowly, the substance he stood in adhering to his clothes and skin. Just when thought he might leave his face behind, he popped free falling to the deck outside the door to the platform.
He jumped to his feet but again, no one was there. He looked around and saw hand rungs sticking out from the wall forty fee
t to his right. The rungs ascended the wall to a grate near the ceiling. He climbed to the top and managed to open the grate with one hand, helped by the fact that the last maintenance person to open it had not closed it properly. The grate swung down leaving a hole in the wall. Perhaps it had been intended to be the terminus of a large duct that had not been installed, or had been forgotten. He looked through hole and noticed he was only twenty feet from one of the towers flinging lightning, and presumably, helping to create and maintain the portal from which currently stuck two small tentacled arms.
Boots opened a waistcoat pocket and withdrew a doorknocker. He pulled the wire an inch and threw it toward the tower. His throw was accurate and sailed toward the top of the tower, but it didn’t have the power to make it and clattered noisily onto a support beam below. He pulled his last explosive but before he could arm it, a bolt of lightning hit him and knocked him back through the hole and he fell to the narrow catwalk below.
Chapter 63 – Persi, to Save the Day?
Boots came to, seated and leaning against the wall on the catwalk, the doorknocker was nowhere to be seen. He rose from the deck, his head swam and he thought he might fall. I must refrain from getting hit in the head again, he thought, then smiled at the obtuseness of the thought.
His vision cleared, leaving only the pounding beat, synchronized with that of his heart. He looked over the railing into the sea of boxes but did not see the explosive device. Now what? He stumbled back to the door and looked through. Narcissa was still there, chanting, and a wind had kicked up, blowing his hair back from his face, but it was not the force of the wind that got his attention, but the smell.
Boots saw movement over the shoulder of the madman and saw, to his horror, the creature was actually attempting to come through the portal and enter the room, but something caused it to struggle. Flailing tentacles streamed down from the hole, then the head would begin to enter. Boots struggled to watch for the eyes on the front of the head looked hungry. Then he noticed the metal circle inlaid into the stone floor. Arcane symbols decorated the outer edges of the circle and when the creature’s appendages reached the edges of the circle, they curved up as if encountering a glass wall. He had an epiphany, this portal was like a glass jar, and the creature was too big to fit into it.
“If the beast cannot fit, then he has failed.” He said to himself. But how to end this? If I break the jar, the beast may come through. It came to him in an instant. I must close the jar. If I take away the power ... He looked over the railing again, then ran for the ascension cage, the explosive device was the key. If I can knock out a tower, the gate will close, or I hope so.
On the ground floor he stepped from the cage and a bullet glanced off the cage bar, reminding him the battle between Burke and the mechanicals still waged. They had left the interior of the circle when the beast came through to avoid being crushed and had taken positions among the crates on either side. Boots stepped to a column and looked out in time to see a mechanical step into the circle heading toward Burke himself. One huge arm serpentine down and crushed the machine against the floor. The operative word being ‘crush’ since when the arm lifted, all that remained was a flat piece of metal and a dark red smear.
Boots made it to Burke and knelt. “Do you have any more of those wonderful explosives?”
“Possibly, but I had hoped we would be ascending back to the Swan for that pint by now,” Burke said.
“Yes, well, I have had difficulties,” Boots replied.
Burke smiled, “I can see it in your face, literally.”
“Hmm, jokes later, explosives now.”
Suddenly a crash sounded above, and a cannonball fell into the circle followed by what appeared to be one of Burkes men, strapped in an aerovelocitor. When Boots thought the man was to hit the stone floor, a blast of steam shot out and jerked him to a stop mere inches from it. The steam shut off and the man dropped to the floor. Looking at the floor, he skittered outside the circle just as one of the beast’s arms hammered the floor. The newcomer did the strangest thing, he began shooting at the silver circle.
“No,” Boots yelled. He looked at Burke, if the circle is damaged, I think the beast will escape. It is like a jar, see? We must close the lid.”
Burke stared.
Boots stared.
“Are you mad? Have the blows to your head addled your thinking?”
“How about this,” Boots said, frustrated, “Damaging the circle is bad, death, destruction, getting the picture, anything?”
Boots brows furrowed.
“Hamilton,” Burke said, “please watch Mister Beacon here. It seems he has come apart in the head.”
A young man stepped forward but as he reached for Boots, the agent’s fist connected with Hamilton’s chin and the young man dropped. With his other hand he drew his revolver and swung it toward Burke. Burke’s eyes opened wide then the gun passed by him and he fired across the room at the man shooting at the ring.
The bullet glanced off the rifle and the man stopped shooting to level it at Boots. The man began pointing at the ring and signaled that he was going to shoot it again. Boots noticed two things almost simultaneously, one- the man across the room was Persi, and two- the foul smelling wind he had felt blowing through the door at the platform, was now stirring the dust where he currently stood.
“That’s Persi,” Boots yelled.
“Then why are you shooting at her, ya crazy loon,” Burke said loudly to be heard over the wind that had picked up.
The sound of a rifle echoed across the room as Persi began shooting again.
Boots lifted his pistol and shot at Persi again, and again hitting the rifle. This time Persi dropped the rifle and drew a pistol. She aimed across the space and fired. The bullet sunk into a crate near Boots head. He looked at Burke and yelled, “She’s angry.”
“You think so?” Burke yelled back.
Boots held out his hand. “Bomb,” was all he said and smiled.
Burke looked him in the eye and smiled. “I must be as crazy as you are.” He handed Boots two doorknockers.
“Thank you, be back in a jiff,” he said and bound off around the outside of the circle.
****
Persi hit the deck, amazed at the effectiveness of the aerovelocitor to stop her descent. To her horror she recognized she was on the inside of the circle and jumped to the outside. She had hoped the circle would have been drawn in chalk or something just as easy to destroy. She had decided that if they could not defeat Narcissa, perhaps they could at least get in his way, and everything she read in the pages of the arcane tome suggested that not closing a gate properly would bring bad things upon the one seeking access. When she saw the metal inlaid ring she almost lost hope until she realized it was silver and that her lead bullets could cut through it. Not sure whether she had enough ammunition to complete the job but gained hope when she saw significant damage on the first shot.
Then the gun jerked and she realized someone was shooting at her. She looked across the space and saw Boots. What is that ridiculous man doing? She resumed shooting the ring when again a bullet skipped off the barrel of her rifle. She drew her pistol and returned fire, sinking a bullet into a wooden crate over her daft husband’s head. She lowered the gun and began to shoot again. The smell of the air in the room was rancid and in her maternal condition, she struggled to keep the contents of her stomach in place.
She looked at the ring and had only one inch left, then the gate would close, hopefully ending Narcissa. She carefully aimed her rifle. “Persi, no,” she heard as her finger pulled the trigger. Her hand jerked and instead of a direct hit, it was a glancing shot that ripped the last through the last bit of silver in the ring.
A wind filled the space, carrying with it smells of battlefield death, the charnel house, and something that reminded her of rotting fish. She vomited uncontrollably, finally sinking to her knees, then was suddenly jerked backward and watched as a huge tentacle slammed into the floor where she had been kneeli
ng.
“So, being twice shot at by your husband caused no curiosity to float to the surface?” Boots said, Persi on top of him.
“Not really, I was trying to end this. Nice shots though,” she said.
“At this point in the ritual, breaking the circle releases the beast. We need to close the hole,” he said, pointing up.
“Oh, well, and how do we ...” she began, then stopped when he held up a doorknocker.
“Bomb?” she asked.
“Yes, we need to blow the tops off the towers. I think that will shut the portal,” Boots said.
A tentacle snaked across the floor toward them. “Now go,” he jumped to his feet, then yanked Persi to hers. “You take the one down there,” he said, jerking his head to his left, “I’ll take the one at the other end.” He held the device in front of him, “Hook, pull and scurry.”
She nodded and each ran toward a tower, but a mere second later they were thrown to the ground as the earth rippled. When they turned, the monster was gone and a huge hole had formed in the floor. Before they could examine further, a second set of arms extended through the portal, entering the room. They bolted for the towers, Persi’s was closer and she began climbing the steel ladder she found attached to one of the legs, before Boots reached his tower.
On the way up the ladder she acknowledged the usefulness of the tactical clothing she wore. It was much easier to move in which added to her speed and balance, however the thought of having her legs separated, reminded her of wearing pantaloons in public and she wanted to glance back to see who might be watching.
At the top of the tower, she hooked the device around a bolt head and pulled. The electrical power was intense and though there was no lightning visible, the energy pulled hair from the pins that held it in place and forced it straight into the air. She descended the ladder as fast as she had climbed it and was ten feet from the floor when a mechanical strode into view. It stood at the base of the ladder and she was not sure whether it knew she was there or not.
The Lightning Lord Page 38
