With this final exclamation, his body gave one last shudder and went limp. The couple stared at him, neither speaking, both waiting to see if he would recover. When, after a short time he hadn’t moved, River had to ask: “Is he dead?”
“He’s been dead for a long time,” said Socrates. “Whatever it is -whatever makes up that spark of life that the starfall replaced inside of him- fled at the moment of death. The starfall kept his brain active, but clearly, there was no humanity left in this creature.”
“This was your plan all along,” she said, a look of understanding dawning on her face. “That’s why you told me to cooperate with them. I’m sorry, Socrates. I should have trusted you.”
“I would have told you sooner, if I could have,” he said. “Their early arrival threw a wrench into my plans. Thankfully, I managed to get the important work done last night.”
“You mean poisoning their wine?”
“Not just that,” said Socrates. “I hope you don’t mind; I borrowed your mechanical fairy.”
“For what?”
“I programmed it to disperse powdered iron throughout the area. It has been flying since last night, scattering iron far and wide.”
“You put iron on the ground?”
“Any ghoul that sets foot within miles of this place will immediately begin to leech starfall into the ore. It’s not a permanent solution, of course, but it will do for now.”
“Brilliant,” River said. “Now I see what you meant by using their strengths against them.”
Socrates grinned. He pulled back the tent flap and motioned for River to join him. “Shall we go release our crew from the cellars? I’m sure Thane is worried sick about you.”
A meaningful glance passed between them, and River blushed. She wordlessly stepped past him into the cool night air.
Chapter 21
It was late, and Queen Aileen should have been in bed. Instead, she sat on the edge of the sofa, gazing into the great fireplace. Lately, it had been difficult to find sleep. The first few weeks after Dane’s death had been a quiet time -a time of mourning, of introspection and reflection with her children- but lately she found herself more and more consumed by the anxieties and rigors of daily life.
She had a kingdom to maintain. There were taxes to be collected, salaries to be dispensed, decisions to be made. All of this was complicated by the fact that more and more, she found her subjects questioning her. There was a time when a man wouldn’t have dared defy one of her orders. Now, they openly argued with her. Where men once averted their gaze respectfully, they now lingered, feeling her body with their eyes, whispering quiet jokes behind her back. She knew where it was all going.
Aileen had been planning her escape. The twins were young, but they were strong enough to travel. She might steal a carriage and make off in the middle of the night. She could take some valuables -the silverware, the goblets, the jewel-handled dagger made by Dane’s great-grandfather- and sell these things off as necessary to buy their safety. The plan would work, she was sure of it. When the light of morning revealed her actions, Aileen and her children would already be miles away.
But she didn’t know where she would go. She’d heard stories of other great kingdoms and cities. There was New Boston, a place of quiet sophistication and technological renaissance. There was Astatia, the young republic struggling through the aftermath of revolution and economic depression. It was a wild, free, vital place. The people were poor, but they had a wealth of spirit and courage. It seemed the sort of place she might make a new life for herself and her children.
Then there was Sanctuary, the almost legendary city deep in the frozen north. It was a place of high technology; a place of long-forgotten secrets and wonders that could bring tears to the eyes. The place had a dark and tragic past, and yet it had kindled the light of civilization at a time when it seemed a simple breeze might snuff it out entirely. Hidden in the libraries of Sanctuary were the keys to history, the records of times before the cataclysm, possibly even the answers to creation itself.
But Aileen couldn’t choose. She only knew that she must go, and the sooner the better. The longer she stayed at Dragonwall, the greater the peril to her family. If only there were someone to guide her, to tell her which path to take…
A knock at the door brought her out of her thoughts. She glanced at the dagger on the table and dismissed it. If they had come for her, a dagger wouldn’t do much good. If anything, it would probably hasten her demise. She went to the door and hesitated before pulling it open. What if this was it? What if they were waiting for her out there? What would happen to her children?
Summoning her courage, Aileen drew back the bar. As the door creaked open, she found herself face to face with Kale. The warrior’s eyes were dark, his face a brooding mask. She could tell that something had happened to him -that he seemed somehow changed- but couldn’t guess what that may have been.
“Is something wrong?” she said, gazing up at him.
“May I come in?”
Aileen stepped aside with a welcoming gesture. Kale brushed past her, storming into the room. He stared into the fireplace as she barred the door behind him.
“What happened?” she said. “What is this darkness you bring into my chambers?”
Aileen approached him. She stood before him, taking his hands in hers and gazing up into his face. “Please, tell me what’s wrong. You carry a storm on your shoulders. I worry for you.”
“I worry for all of us,” Kale said. “I don’t know that the army at our border can be stopped. I know we can’t fight them without proper leadership, but I fear that your people will turn against you.”
“Then we will flee,” Aileen said. “We’ll take a carriage in the middle of the night-”
“No, there is nowhere we could go. Nowhere they couldn’t find us. And could you leave them so easily? I don’t believe you could. It would haunt you, knowing that you had abandoned your people in the time of their greatest need.”
Aileen reached up to brush his dark bangs away from his smoldering blue eyes. Her hand lingered there, the backs of her fingers caressing the scar on his cheek. She flattened her palm against it, feeling the coarseness against her skin.
“Speak to me, my friend. Tell me what I must do, for I am lost. I see the gathering storm, but have nowhere to turn.”
Kale took a deep breath. “I know what you must do,” he said. “I’ve tried to deny it, but now I see that all along there was no choice.”
She narrowed her eyebrows. “Kale, what are you saying?”
“I’ll do it,” he said. “I will marry you, and you will make me your king. It is the only way.”
Her eyes widened. “Do you mean it? Are you truly willing to do this? Don’t toy with me. I am already a broken woman. I don’t think I could survive a jest like this.”
“It is no joke,” Kale said, drawing her into him. “We will marry. We will unite the kingdom, and then we will have the strength to fight back the horde.”
“Yes,” she said, collapsing into him. “We must.” Then, as a thought occurred to her, she pulled away. Aileen squeezed her eyebrows together in a look of undisguised anguish. “No, I can’t do it. I can’t force you into this… it would be wrong.”
“You’re not forcing me,” Kale said in a quiet, reassuring voice. “I’m doing what I should have a long time ago. I want to do this. I’m not a child anymore, and it’s time I stopped acting like one.”
Aileen sighed as the weight of the world slid from her shoulders. She pressed into him. A smile came to her lips. “My king,” she breathed, pulling his face down towards hers. “Kiss me, my king…”
Chapter 22
The crew of the Iron Horse met little resistance from the Ana-nuit soldiers. Even those who had not yet partaken of the grapes or the wine had been affected by the iron-laced soil. Even in miniscule amounts, this cumulative loss of starfall was catastrophically damaging to their systems. Many had already fallen to the ground in a semi-consci
ous or unconscious state by the time River and Socrates left the sergeant’s tent. Those soldiers who still had the strength to stand were like drunks, staggering through the village in a state of confusion. When the villagers sensed this weakness in their masters, they fell upon the Ana-nuit and slew them.
Socrates and River found the rest of the crew locked in one of the wine cellars, and together they spent the rest of the night gathering the soldiers’ bodies and burning them. The villager known as Grandfather helped explain what had happened to the others, and how it was that they were now free, but their reactions were subdued.
River had expected rejoicing from them, or at least some thanks, but neither were forthcoming. She couldn’t hide her disappointment. She spoke of this to Socrates later, when they were alone. After having restored the pyramid’s power source to its original configuration, the pair stood on the upper level, looking out over the village.
“Look at them,” she said. “They’re no happier today than they were yesterday. They’re free now, but all they can think to do is to keep harvesting.”
“They don’t know how to be free,” Socrates explained. “These people were born into slavery, told what to do and what to think from the moment they were born. They have been conditioned not to think for themselves, but always to do what was expected of them.”
“It’s tragic,” River said. “Do you think they’ll ever understand? Will they be able to survive?”
Socrates shifted, and the gears inside his body made clicking noises as they meshed together, compensating for the change in balance. “It will be some time before they truly comprehend what freedom means. The great tragedy is that these people have no values or culture of their own. This has been stolen from them by the Ana-nuit. Now, they will have to start at the beginning. They will have to decide what things will be important to them, what belief systems they will adhere to, what gods they will worship. They must build their culture from nothing.”
“Why don’t we just tell them about the beliefs we’ve encountered so far? They can choose what to believe, and forget the rest.”
“It would be easy for us to do so, but it wouldn’t be fair to them,” said the ape. “These people have a right to form their own opinions and set their own standards. Anything less, and they would still be slaves. Without chains, of course, but slaves nonetheless. They should be free to form their own values and opinions without outside interference. When the time comes, they will venture beyond the safety of their village and their pyramids. They will observe and interact with other cultures, and by then, they will have the discrimination they now lack.”
“Let’s just hope they don’t turn out like the Ana-nuit,” River said with a sigh. “I’d hate to go through this all again.”
Before leaving that morning, Socrates and River went to say their farewells to Grandfather and the others. A large number of villagers had gathered around the old man, seeking his advice. This proved a perfect opportunity for Socrates to thank everyone and wish them well before leaving. Strangely, as Grandfather translated the ape’s words, a clamor arose among the villagers. Socrates waited as they argued in loud voices, until at last Grandfather turned to face him.
“They warn you not to leave,” the old man said. “They say it is dangerous to leave the crater. In the Firelands, you will only find more Ana-nuit, and they say there are other creatures, even worse.”
“Tell them we thank them for their concern,” said Socrates, “and assure them that we will be just fine. Now that we know what to expect from the Ana-nuit, we will be prepared.”
The villagers did not seem consoled by this information, but Socrates would not change his mind on the matter. After this, the crew returned to the Iron Horse.
A short while later, Socrates blew the train’s steam whistle and released the brakes. The chassis moaned like a ship on the high seas as the steam engine went to work. A rush of pure white vapor came out of the exhaust pipes, and the wheels made loud whining noises as they began to roll.
By this time, River was already back in Engineering. She had taken Grandfather’s warning to heart. If they were to encounter any more ghouls on their journey, she wanted to be prepared. It was with this in mind that River sat down at the engineering table and began sketching out designs for scatterguns, grenades, and bombs that might be used as delivery devices for powdered iron. Considering the inherent softness of the raw metal, this would prove a unique challenge. A scattergun, for example, would have to operate with a smaller powder charge than usual. Same with a cannon. And a bomb? Socrates wanted one, but River wasn’t even sure it was possible…
As she worked, night fell, and the jungle outside her windows turned black except for the occasional flash of deep green foliage in the train’s lights. The engineering compartment was quiet, the air thick with the scent of old grease and sulfur. River leaned over her worktable, taking measurements and doing calculations by the light of a single lantern. Little did she know that a few hundred miles to the north, Kale and Aileen were working on plans of their own:
It would take a few weeks to plan the wedding, but in order to pacify the citizens of Danaise, the couple had decided to announce their marriage immediately. This would be enough to stop the revolt and secure Kale’s position. He wouldn’t be king yet, but nobody would have the courage to challenge him. Not with Aileen’s commitment made public, and the entire kingdom watching.
In the meanwhile, Kale was doing his best to stop thinking about River. He had loved her -yes, he could readily admit to that- but she was gone now. She had gone to the next world without him. It was a cruel trick of fate, her dying in that way, but there was nothing to do but accept what he could not change. Perhaps Kale would meet River in the afterlife, and be able to tell her all the things he had always wanted to, but for now, it was time to stop acting like a child and start living up to his responsibilities: Protecting the kingdom, saving thousands of lives… that he could do. That was his new priority. It had to be.
Kale accepted this new lot in life with his shoulders thrown back and his head held high. If any regrets brought a pang to his heart, he would bury them deep inside and do his best to forget. This was his life now. It was the right thing to do. He would wed Aileen, unite the kingdom behind his banner, and prepare the militia to repel the coming invasion.
This was what worried Kale most. The warrior had seen the legion with his own eyes. He knew what was coming, and everything else paled in comparison. He wasn’t even sure defeating them was possible. That was why he had sent word to New Boston, Astatia, and even Sanctuary. If ever there was a time for the kingdoms to unite, it was now. The question was, could they do it in time? If not, he might be joining River in the next world sooner than he expected…
Epilogue:
Two thousand miles to the west, River’s mother had a few problems of her own:
“It’s my orchard!” Britch Farmer shouted as he jabbed a thick, soil-stained finger under the nose of his neighbor Jym Walker. “You had no right to cut my trees.” Britch’s nearly bald head was practically glowing with fury, the smooth skin shining in the light of the courtroom’s flickering lanterns.
“Hogwash!” exclaimed his tall, lanky neighbor. “Judge, Mr. Farmer started moving his fence line the moment the Vangars left. He planted half a dozen trees on my property, and he’s stealing all the water from the creek. My cattle need that water! I demand he be held responsible.”
The Honorable Breeze Tinkerman let out an audible sigh. It was late. She was tired. She no longer had the patience to try to appear interested in the petty bickering of the two incompetent farmers. She’d been listening to it all day, all week, all month… it seemed the bickering and backbiting never ended. If it wasn’t farmers, it was the cobbler who shared a wall with a baker, or the schoolmistress who shared a lot with the blacksmith. Someone always had something to complain about, and for some reason rather than figuring it out on their own like adults, they all felt the need to resort to the law.
Why? She simply couldn’t understand it. In most cases, the best a judge could do was to make sure no one came out happy. When it came to establishing a principle of fairness, that was usually the best measure. They all knew it. Very few people ever left the courtroom with smiles on their faces, and yet they just kept coming, day after day.
Breeze glanced at the papers on her desk, studying them over the rims of her reading glasses. The deed to the land, she observed, was less than a year old, but the map hadn’t changed in a century. Somehow, she suspected the complaints hadn’t either.
“Is this true?” Breeze said, looking Britch up and down. “Have you planted trees across the property line?”
Britch hesitated. He glanced at Jym and then drew his gaze to the bench. He couldn’t quite meet the judge’s stare. “It’s impossible to say for sure. There’s no way to know exactly where the property line is.”
Breeze frowned down at him. “According to this survey map, the property line cuts through the middle of Washback Creek. Hasn’t it always been so?”
“But the creek moves!” Britch protested. “It’s farther left this year. That makes it mine, don’ t it?”
“Not when you’re stealing my property!” hollered Jym.
Breeze shushed them, and the two immediately complied. They knew better than to upset her. They’d done it before.
Breeze tapped the end of her pen on her lower lip. It was almost impossible to believe that less than two years ago, these two men had been slaves without any property whatsoever, and lucky just to be alive. It was confounding, the idea that after living through that, these men would stand in her courtroom arguing about whether the property line should be five feet to the left or the right. She had half a mind to throw them out of her courtroom. The only thing that kept her from doing so was the knowledge that they’d be right back the next day, starting the argument all over again.
Clockwork Legion (Aboard the Great Iron Horse Book 4) Page 17
