Sunstone: A Steampunk Reality

by Holly Barbo

  “This little cocktail increases every sensation tenfold.” And with no further warning, Stone drove a fist into M’nacht’s stomach and followed with a back-handed slap to his face, breaking the skin on the old man’s cheekbone. “Now that we have your attention, I will turn you over to these fellows while I search.”

  The drug coursed through M’nacht’s body and he fought the waves of agony that were disproportionate to the two blows. He wheezed to get his breath and hold onto his will. His face felt like it was on fire and he could feel the blood trickling down and dripping off his jaw. “What are your questions? The sooner I can answer them, the sooner you can leave my home! As a favor to your father, I’ll not identify you to the authorities, but he’ll be hearing from me!” M’nacht blustered. He had to resist the effects of the drug! If it weren’t for the man holding his arms, he would have probably fallen.

  A thug with a scar on his face looked at M’nacht with no expression, then with exaggerated slowness, curled his big hand into a fist and hit the old man twice.

  Across the room, no one noticed as a small piece of metal slid from the side of the message bot. Little gears turned and wire pulleys unfolded an arm which extended to the dash-key. It began to vibrate out a message.

  M’nacht had blood in his mouth and one eye was almost swollen shut. He didn’t see the signal Stone gave, but all of a sudden he was released. He collapsed in a heap on the floor. Bruin crouched down and gripped his bloody jaw. Tilting M’nacht’s face so he could look in his eye, he said in a rough growl, “What have you been up to old man? Where’s the journal you bought? It wouldn’t be appropriate to send as a gift to a child, so don’t give me that lie!” He stood and aimed a kick to the ribs. “What do you know about the drawings in the book?”

  Another kick. This one directed at his arm, and M’nacht felt the bone snap as waves of excruciating pain rolled over every single nerve ending.

  “What can you tell me about a Sunstone?” This time it was the man with the scar who leaned down. He grabbed the broken arm and squeezed as Bruin asked more questions.

  “Who’s working with you? Is it your adopted whelp? Is it your house servant? What’s his name? Quin?”

  His tormentor stood again and, with studied care, laid his foot on top of the shattered arm, slowly increasing the pressure.

  The elderly man screamed in agony.

  “What’re you having your office staff research?”

  M’nacht was fighting back the almost overwhelming pain and the fear for the people dear to him who had been named. He didn’t answer quick enough and the big man stomped.

  M’nacht’s world dimmed for an instant from the excruciating torment threatening to drown him. He could feel Bruin’s gust of breath on his bleeding face as the voice came softly in his ear.

  “Give me answers, or do you need the questions delivered to you again?”

  Through bloody lips, he gasped, “No! I’ll give you answers. I did send both books away. The drawings were nice pictures of navorites. Put a note on it that they should see it get to a child who sketched.” He screamed as the scarred man leaned his knee on the broken bones. Speaking rapidly, he gasped out, “Truth! I’m telling you the truth! I don’t know what a Sunstone is. Is it a meteor? Never heard the word before! My staff does interdisciplinary work between the sciences to help me with my job as liaison for the Council!” It wasn’t what they wanted to hear. The old man’s words were cut off as the men with Stone began to kick him. Kick. The old man curled on his side trying to get away. Kick. He felt something tear in his leg and the blow to his stomach made it hard to breathe. Kick. M’nacht tried to protect his head with his one good arm. The shattered one limply covered his chest. Kick, kick. His scream died as his consciousness faded under waves of pain that engulfed him. He thought he heard sirens as he slipped away into oblivion.

  When the law enforcers arrived, the house was empty but for a broken old man lying in his own blood and surrounded by evidence of a burglary. The room was in chaos, with books and other belongings broken and scattered over the floor. It seemed strange that the navorite alcove was untouched. The valuable fossil was still in its stand.

  Quin arrived to find the place buzzing with law officers. Dropping his market bags, he surged toward the place where his friend lay but was stopped by one of the uniformed officers. “You can’t go in there right now. It’s a crime scene. The old man is alive and an ambulance is on the way. Can you answer some questions for us? Do you see anything missing?”

  Without his eyes leaving M’nacht for more than the briefest of moments, Quin answered the men automatically. He gave M’nacht’s name, and though the navorite was in place, he wouldn’t know if anything was taken until he cleaned up the room. The medics arrived and, with gentle efficiency, loaded M’nacht onto a gurney. The security men kept Quin there for answering questions as they slipped on goggles with different colored filters and scanned the room for evidence. At last, after fifteen minutes, they prepared to leave.

  The officer in charge touched the older man’s arm in reassurance. “M’nacht is being taken to Therad’s Paramount Hospital. They’ll be working on him for a while. We’re sending a couple of officers to be there for his own security. A home invasion of someone with M’nacht’s esteem and reputation is always a little suspect. You can help us by sorting through the mess they made and see if anything was stolen. I’m leaving Officer Gillie here to help you. He’ll let me know if you find anything missing and will take you to the hospital. It will only delay you fifteen minutes or less but could help us in apprehending these individuals. We don’t want them coming back here to finish the job or doing this to anyone else.”

  Quin nodded. He was numb with shock and worry. He took the officer’s advice, put away the market items and began to organize the chaos of the room. It was twelve minutes later that he found the message bot that M’nacht programmed earlier. The little clockwork device was usually kept in a box near the navorite. The fact that one was in the dock raised questions and alarm in his mind, but he didn’t say anything to Officer Gillie. He wanted to ask M’nacht himself and hoped that his friend would recover enough that he could have a conversation. “Nothing’s missing. They broke and messed things up, but I can’t see anything gone. I don’t know what they were looking for or why they would hurt such a great man, but it worries me that they will try again. Could you take me to Paramount Hospital now?”

  The Message

  Kes had decided to hike the wild trails on West Shona Island. He didn’t need to bring much, as there was a small hotel where he could eat and sleep. He’d checked last night, and because it was still before Petal Day and off-season, he didn’t need a reservation. He stuffed a small satchel with changes of clothes and was getting ready to lock up when he realized he hadn’t checked his message bot in the kitchen. The little bot gave a whistle when he approached and vibrated in its dock at the dash-key. He assumed it must be a message the bot had recorded from M’nacht, but he hadn’t time to listen to it now. Slipping the small bot into his pocket, he headed for his steam car. Kes planned to store the vehicle in the science complex garage and take the train to the harbor. He’d catch a steam boat to the remote island.

  With smooth efficiency, he released steam into the engine’s drive chamber and, settling the clockwork nav device, sat back. Kes reached into his pocket for the message bot. It would be better if it was in his pack. As he drew it out, the bot whistled again, the light on its top blinking insistently. He sighed in exasperation. The little thing was programed to continue its alarm until he listened; Kes pushed play, knowing it would be M’nacht’s voice that had been etched into the bot’s tiny wax cylinder, wishing him a pleasant vacation.

  “Hello son. I’ve been thinking about your story concerning the man at Hank’s campfire who found the navorite while diving. That’s possible… but I’ve known you since you were born and I can tell when you are keeping something from me. Forgive an old man if I’m wrong, but it’s my gu
ess that you were the one to find the little fossil. If you do have it, it might be something very rare and extremely precious called a Sunstone.

  “I’ve stumbled upon an old notebook at the bookseller. It will confirm if what you found is the Sunstone. I didn’t realize how important the little book was until I got it home. I believe that I’ve triggered an alert by purchasing the journal. Foolish of me to go that route, but I didn’t realize it at the time. I’ve put it in the security room. If anything happens to me, go right away and retrieve it but don’t get caught doing so. There are people who would very much like to track down and possess that artifact, thinking that it would give them power of some kind. They’re mistaken, but no matter. You can’t let them get it or let them know, in any way, that you have it. The journal will give some information. It’s very old, but the Sunstone hasn’t been seen in a century. It’s the stuff of legend and stories. Be careful, my boy.”

  Kes frowned. “That sounds rather ominous.” He hit replay to hear the message again. When the recording finished, he noticed from the blinking light that there was a second message in the queue. It was Quin, and he sounded upset.

  “Kes, M’nacht’s been attacked! He is in a bad way. I’m at Paramount Hospital now. He’s in surgery and I don’t have any information. I came back from the market to find the place crawling with security officers and M’nacht bleeding and broken on the floor. The room was a mess, as if someone was determined to find something. The officers wanted me to straighten up after they had gotten their evidence. I couldn’t find anything missing, but I did find M’nacht had programed a message bot and left it docked on the dash-key. Kes—he had set it on a timer to call in the alarm! Damn him! He had known they were coming and sent a delayed call for help! He took that beating when he could have prevented it! This morning before I left, he had mentioned for me to keep in touch with you if he couldn’t. I didn’t think much about it at the time. Anyway, I want you to know I’m here and watching out for him. Knowing that maddening old man, he probably sent you a message too. Whatever it was—heed it!”

  Kes ran a shaky hand over his face and let out a shuddering breath. The steam car beeped its proximity to their destination. Kes took over the controls and parked in his space. The messages had rattled him enough that he braked the vehicle with a jolt instead of with his normal smooth skill. He would rather be by his adopted father’s side, but the old man’s words kept playing in his mind. He needed to get to M’nacht’s place in the Heights as nonchalantly as possible and let himself in. It sounded like the home could be under surveillance. It didn’t matter who was watching: the law or thugs. He couldn’t be seen and he had to get in and out as fast as possible. This was the last twi-day. Perhaps the gloom would help. Pulling out a bulky sweater and a hat to disguise himself, he slipped the pack on his back and left the garage. His vacation could wait a few minutes.

  When Kes got to the house, he furtively stepped off the sidewalk and behind some concealing bushes, then, crouching low, sprinted. He let himself into the empty house and, moving with as much rapid stealth as he could, went to M’nacht’s study. He glanced at the blood stains on the rug, the shards of a broken vase and the pile of books that Quin had organized as he’d tidied up. Wasting no time, Kes strode to the navorite and tapped a rhythm on the base. There was an almost inaudible whirring and a click as the gears engaged and the door opened. Kes listened to the silent house, then stepped inside the closet. He quickly removed the sweater and hat, stuffing them in the pack. The peepholes showed he was still alone in the room, so he turned to the work space. He glanced at the shelves and the armored wall safe but nothing appeared abnormal. On the narrow countertop was a small pile of items: a hand-sized leather-bound journal that looked very old and a small silk bag. On the top of both was a moon-pearl blossom. Kes knew that M’nacht loved those flowers. He picked it up. It had been cut that morning and still held traces of dew. Kes knew that the flower marked the small pile as if it had a sign with his name on it.

  He stowed the journal in his pack and the small bag into his vest pocket. His hand paused as he pulled out his little fossil. Somehow everything tied back to the little navorite he found in the Cradle. He started to slip it back in his pocket when his attention was suddenly drawn to the peepholes. Two men and a woman were silhouetted in the study’s archway. They were using hand signals to each other and carrying cudgels. His heart began to pound and he moved to check if he had completely secured the door. It was still open a crack. With gentle pressure, he closed it, but there was a whisper of a click. One of the men whirled and leaned into the room. From beneath an overturned chair, the little robo-cleaner hummed into view. The man swore under his breath but stepped into the room anyway. The other two silently followed.

  His heart was pounding as he peered through the hidden peepholes, watching the man get closer. Suddenly, Kes felt the air stir. There was a tang to the scent which reminded him of the sea. A heartbeat later, the hidden security closet was empty.

  The Meadow

  Kes lay sprawled on his back in the field, his senses awakening as if after a long sleep. He’d been there awhile, as it was no longer a twi-day. He lay unmoving as the early morning sun beat down on his face and body. His brown hair fluttered softly in the breeze that occasionally played with the meadow grasses. The insect and animal life moved around him as if he were made of stone or perhaps dead. A bee buzzed near him, then landed lightly on his limp palm and walked up to the tip of one finger. The hand barely twitched, startling the bee into flight. After a time, he groaned, and there was some visible movement of his head and right hand as he stirred. The small rodents who had been nibbling the grass nearby looked up in alarm and scampered away with leaps and evasive movements. Slowly, his hazel eyes opened as he raised his left hand to run it over his face and head. He groaned again as if he was sore. His right hand, which had been lying across his chest, slipped to the ground to support him as he began to sit up.

  Gradually, he tilted his body into a sitting position, lifting both hands to his temples as if to hold his head together. He felt something fall off his chest, bounce down his vest and onto his lap, catching into the folds of his pants. He stopped running his fingers over his scalp and opened his eyes and looked down to identify that it was the little fossil he had found on his dive. Slowly, he picked up the revered object. His attention sharpened as he grasped it. Softly, he muttered, “What the—!” He cradled the little navorite in his hand, studying it as if he were seeing it for the first time. The fossilized sea creature had lived long enough to make many chambers inside its spiraled shell. Though it was a thing of beauty and worthy of scrutiny, that wasn’t what had captured his attention.

  Very softly, he spoke again, and there was an incredulous tone when he said, “Vibrating! How, in all creation, is a fossil moving?” He watched it in wonder for a long moment. “How are you vibrating?” he asked the stone as he slowly, almost on instinct, raised the fossil to rest against his pounding temple. As it pulsated against the bone, he could hear a low unworldly sound, almost like music! In awe, he drew it away from his face and stared at it for a moment. He could see a slight flutter around the walls of the tiny chambers. It was solid stone but the crystalline ribs seemed to be moving! He very gently set it on a nearby rock as he got up onto his knees. The little stone disc continued its movement, but now that it was on the rock, a barely audible hum touched the air.

  The young man watched in wonder as all of the butterflies in the area were drawn to the rock. The air seemed alive with their delicate wings. Slowly, so as not to harm the gossamer fluttering, he reached through the dancing wings and plucked the fossil off the rock. Instantly, as if the phenomenon never occurred, the butterflies dispersed.

  Kes leaned against his pack. What was going on? He reached into his vest pocket and pulled out the silk bag that M’nacht had left for him on the journal. He felt a fluttering from inside the bag as well. Opening the drawstring, he poured out the contents into his palm. It was
another navorite. Not only was it also vibrating, but it matched his. The two navorite halves had at one time been one! He fit them together and the vibrating intensified. He knew the one that he had found had an impression of a smaller one on its rough side. The one from the bag didn’t, but in all other ways they were mirror images of each other. How did chambers frozen in stone move?

  Getting up, Kes picked up his pack and began to walk. He slipped the small bag with both navorites into his vest pocket again. He could feel the fossils silently oscillating over his heart. His long legs ate up the ground as he strode across the meadow and up the hill. For lack of a better idea, he headed in the direction of the sun. Just shy of the tree line in a cluster of boulders and meadow grass was an interesting cottage. Something about it seemed familiar even though he was sure he’d never been there before.

  The closer he got, the more details he noticed. There was a wild garden just off to the left, and blending into the rocks and trees behind a rustic fence was an odd archway seemingly made up of leaves. A memory flashed and he recalled seeing this scene in photographs.

  A man, leaning heavily on a cane, waved. “Hello, young man. Welcome to Navora’s shrine. We’ve been expecting you!”

  Quin’s Decision

  Quin sat vigil at M’nacht’s bedside. The beeping from the doctors’ diagnostic clockwork nano bots had silenced. Having assisted in holding wounds together for stitching, monitoring heart rate, blood pressure and oxygen levels, they’d left their patient and returned to their sterile recharging station. He watched the one frail, blue-veined eyelid for any signs of wakefulness. The other eye was swathed in bandages.

  The doctors had reported that they had mended what they could and had injected the maximum amount of medicines and painkillers into the old man. He had taken quite a thrashing, and though he had numerous internal injuries, it could have been worse. They found a large amount of an unknown drug in his blood, which the lab was analyzing. It appeared to the experts that it had caused M’nacht to pass out quicker than normal, thus halting the beating. The timely arrival of the security force prevented any other plans the thugs may have had in mind.