by Paton, Chris
“I have only heard of such things,” Mihail clutched his daughter and nodded at the dark shape taking form in the night sky. “What is it?”
“It is an airship,” a cool wind teased through my beard, tickling my nose as I smiled and waved at The Suilven Star.
“Friends of yours?”
“Yes,” I turned to look at the innkeeper, his arms wrapped tightly around his daughter. “Friends.”
The emissary limped onto the flat surface of the rock, the glow behind the grille of its faceplate dimmed. The wolf hung limp in its grasp as the emissary lowered its arms. Looking around the emissary, I saw the second wolf fidgeting at the edge of the path before the outcrop. The approaching whisper of the airship's propellers slid down the moonlight while the sounds of Seffi's battle with the Count diminished.
“Look there,” the innkeeper let go of his daughter and reached out to grasp my arm. “Something is coming up the path. The wolf senses it. See how its hackles are raised?”
I watched as the wolf's fidgeting increased as it hopped from one paw to the next, casting its great head to the left and right before turning tail and bounding up the path, deeper into the mountains.
“It must be the Count,” the innkeeper pulled his daughter into his arms and pulled her towards the path. “We must leave.”
“No,” I pointed at the airship as The Suilven Star descended. “We are saved. Just a few minutes more.”
“I cannot wait. I will not face the wrath of the Count. I must protect my daughter.”
“No,” I clutched at the innkeeper’s cloak as he pulled Natalia past me. My fingers tugged at the fabric and he stopped. “Wait.”
“We cannot wait,” Mihail nodded at the emissary. “Your machine is stalled. Your friends from the sky will be too late and,” he paused as a bloody figure emerged from the trees and stopped before the emissary. “He is here.” Mihail shrank to the floor.
“Father,” Natalia tugged at the innkeeper's arms. “No, father. We must run.”
Stepping around the emissary, the figure wore the bloody marks of battle. I gripped the thimblestone in my pocket and hoped, waiting for the bloody features and matted locks of hair to reveal the face of the woman I had come to love.
“Seffi?” the words slipped from my lips. “Is it you?”
“Karl,” the figure smeared a bloody hand across its forehead, tugging at the hair plastering the skin and scalp. “I think I heard you say something about me being your future wife?” A flash of teeth burst from behind the bloody visage. “We obviously need to talk.”
“Seffi,” pulling my hand from my pocket, I lurched forwards and pulled Seffi’s body into mine.
“Steady, Karl,” Seffi winced as I pulled her into my body. “I am not yet healed.”
“Healed?”
Cupping her hand around my neck, Seffi whispered into my ear, “I am not quite myself, Karl. I am unhurt but I am...” she paused.
“Seffi?” I pushed her gently from my arms to study her face. Those same hazel eyes that had so captured me on our first encounter were softer now. Seffi's pupils grew large as I blocked the moonlight. “The bite?”
“Yes.”
“You are...”
“Infected?” Seffi blinked at a tear. “Yes. Just like the Count.”
“Where is he?”
“Down at the inn. It doesn't matter.” Seffi turned her head towards the approaching airship. “We have friends, Karl.”
“Yes,” I grinned. Stroking her cheek, I scratched at a clot of blood flaked upon her skin.
The Suilven Star settled in the air above us. Natalia stared at the men sliding down ropes cast from the sides of the airship. She helped her father to his feet. Two of Whistlefish's men, shotguns held in the ready position, took up a guarding position along the path as Whistlefish slid down the rope and strode across the rock towards us.
“Seffi, Karl,” Whistlefish pulled us into his arms. “We were worried. Abi and Beatrice particularly so. We followed your journey across the sea and then your train for some time, but I confess we lost you in a squall of bad weather. We have been scouring the area ever since.”
“You came looking for us?” I relaxed as Whistlefish let his arms slide from our shoulders.
“Of course. Why wouldn't we?”
“But you had a deal with Wallendorf.”
“I made another deal with Schleiermacher,” he turned to look at Seffi. “That man bears a burden of guilt unlike no other. He gave me this,” Whistlefish reached inside his jacket and removed a manilla envelope. Handing it to Seffi, he nodded at the airship and two more of his men busying about the emissary with a large cargo net. “But that can wait. It seems I must pluck you both from the mountain once more, and,” he paused to look at Natalia and her father, “it seems we have more mouths to feed, and a young one at that.” He smiled at Natalia. “Oh, Beatrice is going to spoil you without a doubt. But, we must hurry. We spotted a large group of men and what looked like very large wolves heading this way.”
“The Count's army,” I looked to Seffi for acknowledgement. She nodded once, and crumpled the envelope into her pocket.
“An army?” Whistlefish held out his hand to Natalia and she took it. “Then we must clamber aboard The Star and be off.” Pausing to inspect the net his men secured around the emissary, he turned to study me and the ground around us. “Where is your controlling device, Mr. Finsch? I don't see it.”
“I have no more need for it,” I slipped my fingers between Seffi's as we walked towards the rope ladder tumbling down from the side of the airship. “That is something I must tell Abi and Bhàtair.”
“Really? Then I will force you to do so over tea,” Whistlefish grinned. “I look forward to it. As will Abi. However, Bhàtair and young Archie are away securing our passage north.” He nodded. “Yes, we must go north, in spite of Abi's health – Schleiermacher explains more in his letter.
“She is well?” The words stumbled on my lips.
“She is as well as can be,” Whistlefish steadied the rope ladder in his hands. “For the moment.” Turning to Natalia, he smiled. “Now then, up you go. It is best not to look down.”
“Are we to come with you?” Mihail asked. Natalia waited, one foot on the lowest rung of the ladder. “Where are we to go?”
A howl from the clearing below chilled the air and Natalia started to climb.
“Natalia,” Mihail clutched at the ladder.
“Your daughter has made your decision,” Whistlefish turned to look at the path. “A wise decision at that. If you will follow her, sir. I think it best that we make way as quickly as possible.”
The rope ladder twisted in the growing breeze, stiffening the hairs on the backs of my hands. I nodded for Seffi to climb as Natalia and her father were helped onboard The Star. I waved at the anxious face of Beatrice as she leaned over the side of the airship, her fingers clutching the gunwale. It took but a moment before Seffi stepped onto the deck before the old maid whisked her into her arms. The warmth of Seffi's response surprised me, and I hesitated at the foot of the ladder.
“Your turn, Karl.” Whistlefish placed his hand upon my shoulder. “We must not linger.”
I turned my head at a slow piff of steam as the emissary exhausted its water supply. With a languid nod of its disproportioned brass head, the emissary reassured me it was ready to fly and I began to climb.
I was halfway up the ladder when the first of Whistlefish's men fired both barrels of his shotgun.
“Quickly now, Karl.” Whistlefish pulled a hatchet from the back of his belt nestled in a bruised leather holster beneath his sheepskin flying jacket.
“Captain,” I recognised the taller of Whistlefish's men as he jogged down the path from his position above us. “Climb the ladder.”
“I will not leave you behind, Montrose.”
“Aye, that we know for sure, but,” the man pointed the muzzle of the shotgun down the path. His companion crouched behind a large black mass of fur and tee
th as he reloaded. “These devils are no fun on a dark night, Captain. There's no time to discuss the ins and outs.”
“Then tie yourselves into the anchor ropes,” Whistlefish holstered his hatchet and gripped the lines twisting beneath the hull of the airship. “Do it now, and we will pull you free as you cover our escape.”
“Captain...”
“No time for discussions, Montrose. You and Hamish will secure yourselves at the end of these lines before I take another step up this ladder.”
“You're a stubborn man to be sure, Captain.” Montrose took Hamish's shotgun as he jogged up to the foot of the ladder and took hold of the ropes. “He's the best at knots.” He winced as Hamish pulled the knot tight. “Now, will you please be getting along up that ladder, Captain. We have done what you asked.”
“Yes,” Whistlefish clapped both men on the shoulder and followed me up the ladder. “Faster now, Mr. Finsch. Time is apparently of the essence.”
I clambered onto the deck of The Star to the sound of three shotgun blasts. Whistlefish pushed his way past me towards the wheel as Seffi pulled me onto my feet. Searching the deck I watched as Beatrice fussed over the Transylvanians with a piece of flapjack for Natalia and a large mug of tea for her father. Natalie grinned over the sweet bar of oats.
“Full-power to the propellers,” Whistlefish's voice boomed from behind the wheel. “Fill the airbags and let's make way, shall we?”
Two more shotgun blasts drew me to the gunwale.
“Karl,” Seffi tugged at my sleeve, her grasp slipping as she collapsed upon the deck.
“Seffi?” Dropping to my knees I cradled her head in my hands. “What's wrong?” I looked up as Beatrice scurried across the deck towards us. “She's not breathing, Beatrice.”
“Dear, sweet lassie,” Beatrice pushed me aside, tugging the collar of Seffi's blood-stained jacket from around her neck. “Come now, it's no a good time to be having a turn.” Placing her ear over Seffi's mouth, a feint smile pursed Beatrice's lips. “She's breathing, laddie. Just no very much. We had best be getting her down below, out of this cold, and,” Beatrice glanced up at the moon. “If I'm no mistaken, it would no be a bad thing to get away from that.”
“What?” I looked up. “The moon?”
“Aye, laddie. Have you no seen her wounds?” Beatrice beckoned to two of The Star's crew as she helped Seffi into a sitting position. “Your friend is fit as a fiddle for all she's been through, but there's a sickness on the way to be sure.” Beatrice fixed me with a stare, the likes of which I had never seen before. “Are you willing, laddie? Are you strong enough?”
“Willing? Strong enough? What are you saying?” I staggered onto my feet as the crewmen carried Seffi towards the main hatch leading below decks. The airship lurched to one side as Whistlefish turned The Star into the wind and away from the outcrop. The clash of steel below and the thump of bolts from the Count's crossbows piercing the airship's hull, were lost in the growing howl of a hundred wolves mourning a lost quarry.
“Aye,” Beatrice took my arm and pulled me towards the hatch. “You will have to be strong for Seffi. You will have to love her, do you hear?”
“Love her? Yes...” I stopped at the hatch, watching as the crewmen carried Seffi towards the cabins. “I do love her.”
“That's good, laddie,” Beatrice patted my arm. “Love is a strong remedy. It will be enough.”
The airship levelled out as Whistlefish ordered the propellers to be slowed. He ran across the deck to help haul Montrose and Hamish onboard, making the sign of the cross over the limp body of Hamish the knot-tier, his limbs pinned to his body with the black stems of feathered shafts, the metal arrow heads hidden from sight beneath the man's clothes.
“Come, laddie,” Beatrice guided me down the steps onto the lower deck. “It is time for you to be strong.”
Read more of the
Hanover & Singh MICRO Adventures
as they are released:
Emissary Metal: ACTIVATION
Emissary Metal: ANIMATION
Emissary Metal: NEGOTIATION
Emissary Metal: DECOMMISSION
Emissary Metal: DESERTION
Each MICRO Adventure will be released individually,
and collectively as an Omnibus Edition
Concerning Emissaries and Şteamƙin
In 1975, Isaac Asimov’s short story “A Boy’s Best Friend”, about a ten-year-old boy and his robotic dog living on the moon, was published. Forty years later, after my very first reading of it, the story stuck, and, while writing Metal Emissary, the idea of an emissary becoming sentient and developing feelings for its human master began to fester.
The emissaries in my stories are big, brass beasts, delicately balanced with a rotund belly that houses a boiler and furnace allowing them to steam into action. There is little room for a mechanical brain, and if the emissaries were ever to develop a form of sentience they would need something other than a pair of lodestones to drive them. The idea of Şteamƙin developed out of that need for something.
The beginning of this story is not the place for a detailed description of Şteamƙin – that can wait until the very end. Suffice it to say, dear reader, you will discover far more about Şteamƙin within these pages, and, in a world not completely unlike our own, who says such things can’t exist?
As you turn the page, you will meet Karl Finsch, and follow his journey from impoverished student to experienced field engineer and pioneer of the academic theories concerning Şteamƙin. Karl is accompanied by Seffi Achterberg, a somewhat ruthless but efficient chaperone tasked with protecting her charge as they field test the emissary. But, from the factory floor to the mountainside, it is the emissary itself that will, I hope, capture your imagination as it makes its own journey of discovery, and, like Asimov’s robotic dog, establishes its hold on the human heart.
Emissary Metal is set in a fictional 1839, 11 years prior to the events described in Metal Emissary and the subsequent sequels following the adventures of Jamie and Luise Hanover, and the indomitable Hari Singh. Further tales of the Şteamƙin are in the works, and the legacy of Karl Finsch and Seffi Achterberg will continue long after their story within these pages is concluded. I hope you enjoy reading these emissary tales as much as I have enjoyed writing them.
Chris Paton
Denmark, 2016
About the Author
British by default, Chris Paton (1973) has English and Welsh parents, and a Scottish surname. But it is his Welsh heritage - something about dragons - that seems to drive Chris' writing. Graduating from Falmouth University in 2015, Chris has a Master of Arts in Professional Writing, and a couple of other degrees that help pay the bills. Chris' favourite books include any genre with a bit of magic, giant squids and spaceships. Chris is a teacher by profession and a canoeist by choice. He lives in Denmark with his wife, Jane. You can find him in Denmark or online here:
www.chrispaton.dk
By the Same Author
The Adventures of Hanover & Singh
Metal Emissary, book 1
Slow Demons, book 2
Khronos, book 3
Djinn, book 4 (Coming Soon)
Hanover & Singh MICRO Adventures
Emissary Metal: ACTIVATION
Emissary Metal: ANIMATION
Emissary Metal: NEGOTIATION (Coming Soon)
Emissary Metal: DECOMMISSION (Coming Soon)
Emissary Metal: DESERTION (Coming Soon)
“Stand Alone” Adventures in the same series
Arkhangel (Coming Soon)
Original Singh (Coming Soon)
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