“Ernie, is that you?” Natalia called out from the darkness.
Ernie couldn’t see much, but he could feel slime oozing around his ears as he stood up. “Does anyone have a flashlight?”
“Here we go,” Harley answered. He lit a few flares and tossed them on the ground, careful to keep the flame away from any oil.
They were unusual flares that couldn’t be doused by wind or water. Harley had received a supply from a Special Forces unit of the Templar Knights called the Tactical Headquarters for Operations and Research. Most people just referred to the group as THOR.
THOR agents protected the world from dangers that most people were unable to see—rogue trolls, evil witches, armies of werewolves, and a host of other nightmares that would force the bravest civilian to run, hide, and pray for mercy.
The bright flames from the flares exposed a small room with cinderblock walls. It looked like a bomb shelter from the Cold War. The floor was bare, and the low ceiling consisted of little more than crumbling concrete.
“What is this place?” Natalia asked.
“It looks like my grandma’s basement out at the farm,” Max replied as he ran his fingers over the wall.
“Does anybody know what this motor oil is doing down here?” Ernie grumbled. He was trying to scrape the syrupy goop off his face.
“As long as you stay away from the flares, you’ll be fine,” Max said. “I’m more concerned about finding a way out of here. Are you wearing the compass that’s supposed to lead you to safety?”
“It’s called a Navitrometer,” Ernie said. “And I already tried it, but I think it’s broken. The needle keeps spinning in circles.”
“I think we fell through a ventilation shaft,” Natalia remarked as she studied the ceiling. “It’s too steep to climb back out, and the only door I found is locked.”
“Let’s spread out and try to find the key,” Max said.
As the Griffins looked around, they could see a large drainage grate in the center of the floor. The room appeared to be empty except for a pile of scrap metal in the far corner.
“This has got to be some sort of environmental violation,” Natalia commented as the beetle circled her head.
Max pushed aside a few large pieces of twisted metal before pulling out something that looked like an iron football. When he held it close to one of the flares, he could see two round eyes of amber glass and a small mouth that was little more than a slit. Connecting rods dangled from its neck, and the head was dented and heavily tarnished.
Ernie gasped. “It’s a robot!”
Harley handed Max a flare and then took the head and examined it. “I don’t think so. There aren’t any chips or electronic components.”
Max raised the flare, and all at once dozens of lifeless eyes looked back at the Griffins from the scrap heap, some of them eerily human. It was as if a hundred mechanical figures had been torn limb from limb until there was nothing left but parts. Then Max spotted a pair of camera-like eyes that reminded him of the boy in his dream.
“What’s wrong?” Natalia wondered as she watched his face turn pale.
“I’ve been having nightmares again,” Max replied, his breathing shallow as the details flooded back. “I was in a laboratory, and someone was crying for help. His eyes had been cut out and replaced with cameras, just like that.” Max pointed to the eyes staring back at him from the scrap pile.
“That’s disgusting,” Ernie said.
Max turned to his friend but figured it was better if Ernie didn’t know he had been in the dream, too. Ernie tended to overreact to things like that.
“Look at this,” Harley said.
The brass insect was crawling on the floor nearby. Like a watch, it seemed to be slowing down, but it was still moving purposefully toward a round metal door that was recessed into the wall. With all the interconnected gears, timer springs, and turned metal, it looked like a bank vault. There were seven stainless-steel turning wheels etched with mysterious symbols, all arranged in a vertical line.
“What is this?” asked Ernie. “A puzzle?”
Natalia examined the door with her Phantasmoscope, a multi-lens magnifying glass that allowed her to see through faerie magic. “Whatever it is, it’s our best chance of getting out of this hole.” She felt overwhelming sense of being smothered but fought against panic. Losing control wouldn’t change anything.
“What if we radioed Logan?” Ernie asked. “He’d know how to get us out of here.”
Max shook his head. “We’re too far underground. The radio won’t work.”
Logan was not only the head of the Templar THOR division but also Max’s personal bodyguard. Logan had grown up as an orphan on the streets of Glasgow, where he became a street fighter to earn enough money to survive. In time, the Templar found him and offered the Scotsman a place in their ranks. Under their guidance, he became one of the deadliest men in the world. More important, he loved Max like a son.
Natalia adjusted a series of interchangeable lenses that flipped over the top of her Phantasmoscope, and peered through the mysterious workings of the door. “I don’t see any obvious traps or anything supernatural. The gears are attached to rollers that are connected to tracks where the door sits. I think it’s just a big combination lock. All we need to do is find the right combination.”
“Where do we start?” Max asked.
“I’ve got a hunch,” she claimed before turning the middle wheel. Natalia stopped when a symbol with three wavy lines lined up with an arrow on the side of the door. The wheel resisted at first, but with a groan of rusty metal, it finally gave way. As it did, a sudden gust of air that smelled like dead fish wafted up from the drain.
The beetle started hopping wildly, striking its head against the wall beneath the lowest gear.
“I don’t think our little friend liked your choice,” Harley observed.
The beetle was growing more frantic as it clawed at the bottom of the door in mechanical desperation. Then the sound of rushing water echoed up through the drainage grate. It was followed by a small trickle, and soon water was pooled around Ernie’s shoes. Before long the Griffins were sloshing through ankle-deep water.
Max turned to Natalia. “We’ve got a problem.”
She rolled her eyes and sighed. “Why does this always happen to us?”
“Because somebody doesn’t want us to find what’s on the other side of that door,” Harley called. “Hurry up and break the code, or we’re going to have to swim.”
“I need a clue… somewhere to start,” Natalia complained. “There are more than thirty symbols on each wheel. Do you know the odds of cracking that code?”
“It doesn’t matter,” said Max, watching the water rise. “We have to do something!”
Across the room, Ernie pounded on the door and screamed for help while Harley redoubled his effort to find a hidden escape hatch.
Max could still see the brass beetle struggling below the surface, and it triggered an idea. “What if this thing knows something we don’t?” he asked, reaching down to grab the mechanical insect. He handed it to Natalia.
“Look,” she said, her hands trembling as she examined the beetle. “There are seven symbols on the wings, and seven wheels on the door. So the beetle has to be the key.”
“Then let’s match the symbols and see if the door will open,” Max said.
“Whatever you do, you’d better do it quickly,” Harley warned as the water approached his waist. “We have only a couple minutes before this place fills up to the ceiling.”
Natalia spun the first wheel, then the second, aligning the symbols to match the beetle’s wings. The water continued to pour into the room as she quickly turned three more wheels, moving from top to bottom.
“Oh no!” she shouted, realizing her mistake as the water rose to her chest. “The last two wheels are underwater.”
“Tell me the symbols, and I’ll match them,” Max said.
Natalia flipped the beetle over to get a bet
ter look, but it slipped from her hand and fell into the water. As she fought back tears, Max dove to grab one of the flares. As advertised, it was still burning when he resurfaced to catch his breath. Max could see Ernie standing on his tiptoes, trying not to swallow any of the water that was quickly approaching his nose.
Max took a deep breath and dove once more. His fingers scraped frantically against the floor as he gripped the flare in his other hand. Then he caught the glint of brass from the corner of his eye. Max stretched and took the beetle in his hand just as the oxygen in his lungs started to run out.
As he broke the surface of the water, Max could see that Harley had found one of the other flares. Ernie was flailing about as Harley struggled to help him tread water. It wasn’t an easy task, even for someone as strong as Harley.
Natalia was close enough that Max could see the panic in her eyes. “We’re going to make it,” he told her. Natalia nodded, her teeth chattering as Max fumbled to find the last two symbols on the beetle’s wings: an iron cross and an anchor.
He tossed the beetle aside before plunging back into the dark water. He found the wheels easily enough, but he had to drop the flare so that he could use both hands to spin them. Without the light to guide him, Max could barely make out the symbols. He was reasonably sure that he had lined up the iron cross. Aligning the anchor symbol, though, wouldn’t be as easy.
The last wheel was locked by decades of rust, and it wouldn’t budge. Max struggled, his lungs screaming for oxygen. As he started to black out, Max closed his eyes and succumbed to the darkness. Memories washed over him like a torrent: family gatherings around the Thanksgiving table… Iver smiling down at him like jolly old St. Nick… Logan protecting Max from an onslaught of werewolves… his mother kissing him on the cheek… his father’s last words—“If you turn your back on me, you turn your back on your destiny…”
With a jolt, Max opened his eyes and tightened his grip on the wheel. He gave it one last twist, spending the last of his energy. This time the wheel moved. As Max struggled to stay conscious, he thought he could see the anchor symbol lined up. Suddenly there was a rumble, and the entire chamber shook. Then the water around him started to swirl until it became an uncontrollable vortex, pulling Max in its deadly current.
03
REACHING INTO THE PORTAL
The crashing water was violent. Max was smashed against the walls until he was nearly senseless. Then all at once, the water fell away, disappearing down the drain in the floor. The Griffins were thrown to the ground, where they lay like marooned fish gasping for breath. Max stumbled to his feet. “Is everyone all right?”
“Alive and kicking,” Harley announced with a groan, helping Natalia and Ernie to their feet.
“Thanks to Natalia,” Max added. “Nice work.”
Natalia smiled as she wrung out her braids. Then she pointed at the door. A piece of it had slid away, revealing a small circular inset. They all watched as the beetle crept inside the opening, extending its legs into tiny holes. Then, with a whir of gears, the beetle began to spin, first one way, then another, like a combination lock. Finally, with a click, the door began to rumble, rolling away to unveil a dark room beyond.
“Whoa,” exclaimed Harley, stepping through the doorway with his flare held high. “You need to see this.”
The Griffins followed him into the circular control room. Against one wall was a wide console covered with buttons, switches, and levers. Blueprint diagrams hung in procession on the other walls. The floor was littered with concrete that had fallen from the ceiling, and there were several rotting chairs.
“I think it was some sort of testing laboratory,” Harley remarked as he examined the blueprints more closely.
“Or a control room,” added Ernie. “But for what?”
“A mechanical army,” Harley said, looking at schematics. Each machine was bristling with weapons and shielded with armor. “Maybe that’s what all those spare parts were back there.”
“Vesper rockets?” Max exclaimed, reading through an inventory manifest. “And magneto rifles?” One machine looked like a cross between a minotaur and a tank. “Whoever designed this stuff had a crazy imagination.”
“That person is also very dead,” Natalia added. “This blueprint is dated May 1916. That was during World War I. It’s for something called the Brimstone Key, but this drawing doesn’t look anything like a key.”
Max looked at the strange rendering of a cylindrical object with the words meteoric iron written next to it.
“I can’t believe that technology like this existed back then,” Harley remarked as he picked up another set of schematics. “This thing is a walking fortress. It even has retractable Gatling guns and rocket boosters. Can you imagine running into one of these?”
“It’s called a Dreadnaught,” Max read from the paper Harley was holding.
“Do you think that beetle was delivered to us by accident?” Natalia asked. “I mean, why would it lead us down here?”
“Check this out,” Harley said. He placed the Dreadnaught blueprint back on the table and walked over to a floor-to-ceiling mirror. Attached around the frame were cylinders with compression hoses linked to an array of glass canisters. They were filled with a hazy blue liquid. Four motors, one in each corner, were arranged at angles, and they powered hundreds of interconnected gears.
“It’s a portal,” Max said.
Natalia frowned. “Are you sure?”
Max placed his hand on the surface of the mirror. It chilled his skin. “I’m positive.”
Portals, known scientifically as interdimensional teleportation singularities, were enchanted doorways that could take a person anywhere in the blink of an eye. Some opened doorways to a particular place, while other portals could move a traveler through time. They were incredibly rare because they were simply impossible to find—that is, unless someone had a special talent. Max was just such a person.
“So how does it work?” Ernie wanted to know. He was getting anxious to leave.
Harley examined the motors and cylinders. “I think you have to turn it on first… you know, like a motor.” He indicated a switch on the right side.
“Aren’t portals powered by some kind of enchantment? Why would you have to turn it on?” Natalia wondered.
“There’s only one way to find out,” Harley answered. Then he took hold of a crank on the side of the frame and began to turn it. As he did, the blue liquid in the glass vials began to boil. After a minute of hard cranking, Harley flipped the starter switch. All at once the motors rumbled to life and soon they were driving the array of gears in a circular parade of motion. Harley stepped back. “That’s incredible…”
Natalia studied the mirror. Its surface rolled like a windblown lake, and when Max touched it, a ripple went out from his finger in a series of rings. “Okay, you’re right,” she conceded. “It’s a portal, but how do we know where it leads?”
“I think I can answer that,” Max began, placing his hand on a series of dials on the left side of the frame. Taking in a breath, he turned one of the dials and all at once a brilliant shaft of sunlight poured through the mirror’s surface, blinding the Griffins in momentary wonder. As their eyes adjusted, they could see that the portal led to the roof of a tall building in the midst of a sprawling city.
“That’s Minneapolis!” Harley exclaimed.
“Which gives me an idea.” Max began to turn the dials in different directions, sometimes together, sometimes one at a time, each time changing the scene on the other side of the mirror. “I think I have it!” he exclaimed a few moments later. “The first dial has some preprogrammed places that the mirror usually connects to, but the others let you control the destination.” He turned the final dial two clicks, then stepped back with a smile.
The interior of their familiar tree-house headquarters appeared before them. It was just as they had left it a few hours earlier, with the box that held the beetle still sitting on the table.
“How did
you do that?” Natalia asked.
Max thought about it for a moment. “I don’t know,” he admitted. “It’s like I always knew how to use it, but I’ve never seen one of these before.”
“That’s weird,” Ernie said. “But I don’t care. All I know is that I want to get out of here.”
He started to step toward the mirror, but Max held him back. “Wait a minute. What did the note say that came with the beetle? ‘Wind stem to find him’? Who were we supposed to find?”
“Anyone who would hang out down here has to be insane,” Ernie noted. “And that means I don’t want to meet him.”
“You should take a look at this, Max,” Natalia said as she stood next to a glass display case.
“Are those Round Table cards?” Ernie asked, reaching out to grab them.
“Ernie, don’t… it might be a trap!” Natalia warned.
Once again, it was too late.
In his excitement, Ernie had already pulled the deck out of the case. The other Griffins held their breath, waiting for the ceiling to fall or for the floor to open up and reveal a pit of vipers. Luckily, none of that happened.
“See, they’re just cards,” Ernie said, holding them out triumphantly.
Round Table was a popular trading-card game with Templar youth, but it was also used as a training tool so they could learn the strengths and weaknesses of enemies without the fear of injury.
Harley took the cards and started shuffling through them. “I haven’t seen any of these before,” he said. “Look, there’s a Reaper, a Dreadnaught, and… wait, who the heck is this guy?” He handed the card to Max.
Across the top he read the words CLOCKWORK KING. There was a cadre of mechanical soldiers in the background, similar to the machines from the blueprints. The focal point, however, was a hard-edged man. His skin was etched with fine lines, his silver hair and mustache were trimmed to military efficiency, and his nose was as straight as his posture. He was dressed in attire from the last century, with a black dress jacket, a high collar lined with the emblems of his rank, and a red sash draped from his left shoulder.
Grey Griffins: The Clockwork Chronicles #1: The Brimstone Key Page 2
