The Cog Chronicles Box Set

by P M Cole

  “We have to go!” said Colin, pulling me from my fascination. The others had already moved beyond the pipes. I quickly caught up. In the distance, a number of workmen turned valves, releasing steam, which fortunately acted as a mask for us to move to the exit and leave.

  We moved swiftly along a narrow dimly lit corridor, and then up a small metal staircase. The door at the top was marked as the entrance to the vaults and storage.

  “How will he know we are—”

  Before I could finish, the door opened and Bernard was beckoning us out.

  “I have set up a small space in one of our storage areas. Medieval period manuscripts. We shouldn’t be disturbed there.”

  As we followed him, I felt as if I had entered a palace of wonders. Suits of armour, weapons, automata from the continent the likes of which I had only dreamt were possible accosted my eyes. Valves, cogs, energy all fusing together in an endless sea of possibilities. So much to learn. So much to create…

  “You say something?” said Estelle.

  “No… umm… I just like these things around us.”

  Estelle picked up a small sword. “Yeah, could be pretty useful.”

  “Put that down! That’s a Roman Gladius, quite rare in that condition, which it needs to stay in!”

  Estelle shrugged and placed it back in its wooden box.

  Colin picked up a small vase. “I like the birds on this…”

  Bernard’s eyes widened, and he snatched the blue and white piece of pottery. “These items are priceless. Stop touching! Now, everyone stay together, it’s not far,” he continued.

  We arrived at an innocuous door, but opening it revealed a large room, full of bookshelves. Each one carrying a brass plate describing the category for that row. Vellum-backed volumes sat alongside rolled up parchments and stacks of individual tanned sheets. I placed my finger on one of them and came away with a good amount of dust.

  “How long have these been here?” I questioned Bernard.

  “I think the administrators have forgotten this room even exists.” He smiled. “Better for us.”

  We moved to a large table at the back of the room. A number of books and manuscripts had already been laid out across it.

  I suddenly remembered the gunshot while we were hiding in the basement kitchen of his home. “Are you OK? We heard—”

  He nodded. “I’m quite alright, although Natasha was given quite a fright. She… does not have the temperament for altercations.”

  “Did the coppers come?” said Estelle.

  “Indeed. They appear to think I am being targeted by one of London’s numerous gangs, which of course is quite correct.”

  “We can have one of ours posted to your street if you wish?” said Olivia.

  Bernard smiled. “I can take care of myself, but thank you for the offer…” He looked at the bound items in front of us. “I have been here from the early hours researching what I could from these old volumes and scrolls, and what I have discovered unfortunately fits with what we already know.”

  “How do we get to Finlay?” said Estelle, echoing my own thoughts.

  “There anything in these books that tells us how to do that? Now we know he’s protected by some kind of monster?” said Colin.

  Bernard picked up one of the smaller editions and turned to a part that he had already marked with a small piece of card.

  “I presume most of you here are not aware of the tale of the Gorgons? The sisters cursed by the gods?” I shook my head. “Well, there used to be three sisters, but one was beheaded by a Greek hero called Perseus. As far as I know, there are no accounts of the other two sisters being killed, and that would be because they are said to be immortal…”

  “Ha, immortal? Everything can die! Even witches that turn people to stone!” said Colin.

  “Whichever sister she is, she’s no witch. She’s something beyond our mortal understanding. A being of great power.”

  I sat on the nearby chair. None of this was making me feel any better. “The one that was killed. How did the hero kill her?”

  “It is said he used a polished shield, by which he was able to look upon her reflection and therefore avoid being turned to stone…”

  “So, a mirror?”

  “Yes…”

  As they discussed more ancient tales, my mind returned to the historical items outside. I ran through them again, recreating them in my mind, adding to them, adjusting them.

  “… Finlay…” said Olivia.

  I left my imaginations to return to the room around me. “Finlay?”

  “We are wondering how he came to be with this Thorton woman, that perhaps he is a creature of lore as well?” said Bernard.

  “I just know he looked the same as in my dream. Like he has not aged…”

  “Great, now there are druids as well as witches!” said Colin, placing one of the books back on the table.

  Estelle let her finger trail across the head of one of her arrows which she had removed from her quiver. “Just need me one clear shot, and magic person or not, he’s going to die.”

  “If you don’t get turned to stone…” said Colin.

  “Unfortunately, there are far worse than men and women of magic in this city. For some reason the capital attracts them.” He looked across the table at me. “Liv told me you have gifts of your own? Are you able to demonstrate them to me?”

  All eyes fell upon my person.

  “Um… I… don’t know how it works…”

  “She can melt pennies!” said Colin. “And at Finlay’s abode, she melted the handles. She saved us…”

  “So you can manipulate metal?” said Bernard.

  “I don’t know… maybe.”

  Bernard produced a shilling then leaned over the table. I took it reluctantly and looked at the faces expecting me to produce magic, whatever that was.

  Holding the coin in front of me, I took a deep breath and concentrated on the cool silver between my fingers.

  “Look, nothing happened. I don’t know how to do any of this stuff. That’s why I’m here, I thought you would know.” I tossed the coin to the wooden table. It momentarily spun, until Bernard snapped it up and held it up to the nearby gas lamp.

  The others gathered around to get a better look, then all looked back at me.

  “What?”

  He tossed the coin back across the table. I grabbed it just before it slid to the floor and held it up. The words ‘One shilling’ surrounded by a laurel and a crown at the top looked back at me. “There’s nothing special about this coin.”

  “The other side,” said Olivia.

  I flipped it over and almost dropped it. The embossed image of Finlay’s head looked back at me. “Oh…” I placed the coin on the table, not wanting to touch it.

  Bernard looked at the books in front of him. “So you can manipulate metal… That’s rather unusual. I have come across many with extraordinary talents on my journeys, but none with that ability.”

  “She’s also real clever with building things,” said Colin.

  “Is that true? You have a gift for creating?”

  “Ever since I was a child I’ve enjoyed making things, so yes.”

  “Hmm… I’ll need to do more studying of some of the more esoteric occult texts. There must be some underlying reason for your gifts. I think if we learn that, we will know why Finlay is so obsessed with you. But before we learn more, it goes without mention that you cannot allow yourself to be found. Meanwhile, I know of someone who is also infused with gifts. A former student of mine, but I’m not sure if they will want to help you…”

  “Why is that?” I asked.

  “Because they are currently residing in Bedlam lunatic asylum.”

  CHAPTER FOURTEEN

  I looked at a jagged hole in the brickwork of the sewer. Vernon stood proudly nearby, resting on his large hammer.

  “So what do you think?” said Colin. “Good, eh?”

  I put aside my shock at seeing the damage to my basemen
t home and smiled. “At least I won’t have to creep past Mr Gladwell now.”

  “Yeah, when will the old fellow be back?”

  “He said a day or two, so maybe tomorrow.” I continued observing the gap in the wall. A few door variations came to me. I placed my finger on a higher brick. “Are you able to put a small hole here to the other side?”

  Vernon examined the piece of masonry, nodding. “Should be able to. Let me get my other tools.”

  “Whoah, you have a lot of clocks,” said Colin.

  I hadn’t realised he had moved into my room. I tried to hide my irritation at such an intrusion, following him in. “Yes… they are the ones that their owners thought beyond repair. They tell us to dispose of them.” I looked happily upon the face of an ornate wood carved Swiss clock, its display of dancing children were about to make an appearance as it was almost at the hour.

  “And you fix them?”

  I moved forward quickly and pulled a clockwork mechanism from his grasp. “Yes. They are very delicate. Not mere toys.”

  He took a step back. “I know.”

  A silence fell between us, despite the noise of Vernon drilling into the brick just a few yards away.

  “So I should get started on the entrance door.” The presence of someone other than Mr Gladwell in my domain felt awkward to me. I feigned a smile in Colin’s direction.

  “OK then. I’ll be off. Vernon shouldn’t take long, and he will be happy to help you with anything else if you should need it.” He looked at me as if he was talking about himself.

  “I know… umm…” I turned to the missing piece of wall. “Thank you, Vernon.”

  “That’s OK, miss,” he said, chiselling away.

  “Tonight then,” said Colin and moved off back into the sewer.

  I felt bad for my demeanour, but the basement was the only space I could truly call my own. I wasn’t ready to share it just yet.

  I looked at the pieces of walnut, mahogany, and pine, stacked in the corner and in my mind quickly calculated what would need to be cut. Removing my coat and scarf I set about my business.

  After a few hours, an efficient pulley system was in place, which allowed me to pull on a weight, attached to a piece of string which would lift and lower the covering across the hole. Over that, I moved one of my smaller shelves.

  Exhausted from my work, I used the remaining eggs together with some cheese and a piece of bread and sat at my work desk trying to enjoy my meal, but I could not rid myself of the feeling that my day’s engineering was not complete. My mind kept returning to the museum. So many innovations from around the world.

  I pulled some sheets of paper from my clean pile and set about sketching. My charcoal moved swift and accurately across the surface, detailing a design of some kind, although I wasn’t clear of what nature. Some form of arms, cogs, curved surfaces with bracing started to take shape, my fingers moving as if possessed by some otherworldly force. Images came and went in my mind, each one being judged and discarded if not felt appropriate, but rendered if needed. I threw the piece of paper to one side and started on the next, working faster and faster.

  After a time I stopped, out of breath. I looked at a desk covered in designs. At first, I wasn’t sure of what I was laying my eyes on, but then as I stood it became clear it was a form of armour, in some ways similar to what I had seen earlier in the museum, but my depiction was something far in advance of what the medieval blacksmiths could conjure.

  I excitedly grabbed the closest sheet and looked at the pile of unused clock and watch parts lying around me.

  “I need more metal…”

  I scoured the room around me, but it mostly contained various kinds of wood. Then I remembered what was roughly above my head in the back room. The oven. Could I replace it before he returned? I took my plans with me and quickly made my way upstairs. I turned on the gas lamp and stood looking at the large iron appliance.

  I told myself if Mr Gladwell knew of the importance of what I was trying to build and the why I was building it, he would understand.

  I first picked up one of the copper pots then quickly placed it back down on top of the stove. Each time I had utilised my ‘powers’ it had been with others around me. Now I was standing in a cold room alone. What if something went wrong?

  I shook my head, defying my fears and picked the pan up again. Holding it firm I eased my breathing until I was a semblance of calm. As I breathed I could feel a surge of… tingling, then heat then… the pan started to warp and extend in my hand. I stood, astonished, watching as it took on various shapes. I dropped it to the stove just as it became what appeared to be a form of three-headed spear. I pushed it with my finger, confirming it was now solid. Picking it up, I brought it down a few times on the black iron top of the oven, each time it made a solid clang. Pleased with the result of my little experiment, I grabbed it as well as all the other pans I could lay my hands on and made my way downstairs.

  I dropped all of the copper on my worktop then returned to the oven with some of my tools, then laughed.

  “I don’t need them…”

  I placed my hands on the large iron door and relaxed.

  A short while later the oven was now in my basement in approximately twelve different parts, and I was really hoping Mr Gladwell did not come through the door above me. I was now swimming in a sea of pieces of iron, copper, cogs, springs, dials, wood, leather and everything else I thought would be useful.

  Putting everything out of my mind, I pictured what I wanted to build and let my hands start to move from component to component, bending metal, carving wood, and inserting mechanisms where needed. After most of my clocks had chimed once more, I stepped back from my work desk and admired what I had constructed.

  Just what have I constructed?

  To the layman, it appeared to be a strange form-fitting concoction of various styles of armour. A plated corset, coverings for the arms and legs, and a headpiece, which covered most of my head and face. But that wasn’t what I was most proud of. Multifaceted glass covered my eyes which contained a magnifying eyepiece, or could be made completely dark. Crossbows were built into both forearms, with twelve bolts for each stored higher up the arm, and spring-loaded blades which could spring forth from both wrists, should the crossbow not prove sufficient. I also fashioned a reflective surface on the back of my right hand to be used as a mirror if I should encounter Miss Thorton once again.

  I carefully picked it up, noticing the weight. I was definitely going to have to practice moving around in it, to be able to move as free as I should. I stepped into the leg sections, twisting the small dials to seal the joins, and then pulled the corset around me, doing the same, then the arms, and finally, I brought the helmet down upon my head and secured that to the rest of the suit. Sliding the small lever up at the side of my eyes, my vision suddenly extended to see an 1856 London made clock.

  “Woah…”

  It felt as if it was just mere inches from my face.

  I briefly slid the lever all the way down, rotating the black covers into place and plunging me into darkness, before switching it back to a normal view.

  I took a tentative step forward, feeling the load on my legs and arms and looked in the mirror. Then promptly burst out laughing. Once the pomposity of how I looked wore off, I waved my arms, then legs, moving quicker and quicker around my confined space, eventually ending up at the bottom of my stairs. I looked up the wooden steps, and with a burst of energy ran up five of them before my boot caught on a plank, and I lost balance and tumbled backwards landing heavily on my posterior.

  I sat, bemoaning my sore joints and limbs.

  “Going to need more padding.”

  *****

  As day slipped into night, I made adjustments to the strange suit of armour, until it was half its original weight and had cushioning in the appropriate areas. I was now sure it could take a hefty blow to most parts without the corresponding force being applied to my body.

  I looked at i
t hoisted upon one of the shelves and smiled. Whatever lurked in the shadows of London, I could now face with a little less fear.

  As I waited for Colin to arrive to take me to see Bernard and his mysterious sick friend, I tried to put my fear of returning to an asylum behind me. Even though the institution we were heading for was different to the one I survived in for almost four years, I knew the sights, sounds and stench would drag the memories back from the dark places I had pushed them.

  A knock came on the wooden partition. I pulled on the weight and it slid to the side, and I climbed out.

  “Ready?” he said.

  I nodded and we started our journey. I was now beginning to gain some knowledge of the routes possible beneath the streets of the city and forged on ahead, wanting to get this visit over with.

  It wasn’t long before we ascended a ladder into a fog-covered street. I looked for some sign of where we were, but the opaque walls of mist gave nothing away.

  Colin closed the cover and we walked forward until we found the edge of the pavement, and then a wall with black iron bars. We followed it until an orange glow waved back and forth in the distance.

  I wondered if it would have been better to give my unusual suit of armour its first field test tonight, but instead, I pressed on my crossbow inside my coat confirming it was still there.

  Bernard, dressed in a thick black overcoat and derby hat, appeared from the white gloom holding a lantern. A horse and carriage waited behind him but to his left were the impressive gates of the asylum, the building itself being hidden to us due to the weather conditions. His expression was grave.

  “I must ask both of you to stay close to me when we are inside. My… friend should be amicable, but I cannot say the same for the other inmates.” He looked at Colin. “I expect you to protect the young lady, if—”

  Before Colin could show any sign of being insulted, I lifted the inside of my coat revealing the crossbow. “The lady can protect herself.”

  Bernard smiled. “Of course.”

  Colin looked at us both. “I can help too!”