by Gareth Clegg
“Well, I suppose so.”
“We’re getting out of here tonight. Lynch has her team prepped and ready. Your technicians are in place at Euston, by this time tomorrow we’ll be on our way to Glasgow.”
“Yes, you’re right. It just annoys me. All this work to rescue the Empress and they make us out to be bloody kidnappers.”
“I know, but you’ve got to let it go. They’re doing what they can to fix things—damage limitation. We know we’re in the right. No need to worry about what they say about us.”
“Fair enough, but it gets my bloody goat.”
“You’ve been spending too much time with Callam. How many goats do you think he has?”
Bazalgette looked at him for a second, then burst out laughing. “He does say it a lot, doesn’t he?”
“He’s mentioned it once or twice,” Simmons said.
The carriage rocked gently in the darkness, but sleep still eluded Simmons. Lynch’s plan had gone without a hitch, and they now sped north away from London. Almost everyone else was asleep, apart from Blake who watched over the Empress, and Bazalgette who was driving the engine.
Large plush chairs and couches lined the walls making the carriage look more like an opulent living room.
The Empress took one of the couches along with the off-duty guards, Lynch, Fletcher and Turner. He wasn’t sure where Curtis was, perhaps with Bazalgette playing trains.
Simmons peered through the thick metal shutters, just able to see darker flashes of countryside flying by in the pre-dawn light. He pushed his face tight to the glass, peering ahead to the engine and the occasional sparks skipping off the track as they took a slow curve.
Glasgow, he thought. Let’s hope this John Brown is all he is rumoured to be. Victoria, the old Empress, had trusted him with her life and he’d saved her from at least two assassination attempts. Perhaps he was just the man to raise a rebellion and put her Granddaughter back on the throne.
They had a long way to go, and treacherous terrain to cover. The unexplored wilderness between the few pockets of civilisation would hold plenty of unpleasant surprises. The red weed and the taint being the two main threats they would need to contend with.
Whatever the future held for him and this ragtag group, they’d find a way. He’d keep his promise to Surita. For the first time in years, he felt he had a purpose, a reason to carry on. She would have been proud of him.
He smiled, thinking of all the good times they shared in India and wiped the moisture from the corner of his eye. Now if he could just get some damned rest. He took a swig of laudanum, perhaps that would help him sleep. Only a dribble of the oily liquid remained in the bottle that should have lasted him another week, and he hid it in his bag along with the other empty.
Relaxing back into the soft cushioned chair, his Holland & Holland gripped lovingly across his legs, he closed his eyes and dreamt of India.
Epilogue
Water dripped steadily as the hooded figure was escorted into the dim chamber. Red fog clung to the far side of the unnatural cavern like a curtain awaiting showtime. From within, a multitude of shadows writhed but were too indistinct to discern their true form.
The two scarlet-robed escorts cast the body to lay prostrate on the wet stone before bending at the waist with arms extended towards the wall of fog and backing out of the area.
A sibilant whisper echoed around the cavern. It reverberated from the unusual rock formations making it difficult to place its point of origin. The figure pulled itself up to its knees, head still bowed and waited. The whispers focused into words in the figure’s mind. “You know why you are here?”
“No, my Lord.”
“No? You must realise you have failed us.”
“Yes, but that is why I don’t understand why I kneel before you now.”
“Death was adequate punishment for your failure, but your weak bodies should not be the limiting factor of your usefulness to our plans.”
The figure waited for what seemed an eternity in the silence. Was the inquisition over? The thought shattered as the swirling mass of hisses returned to their mind.
“We offer you one final chance to prove your use. To fulfil our requirements, we shall provide you with a gift to overcome your physical frailties.”
“Thank you, my Lord—”
“If you fail again, the mere suffering of death shall be nothing compared to our wrath.”
“I understand.”
“Now, accept our gift and leave.”
Fog swirled and pushed out from the wall, forming three thick tendrils that drifted across the cavern, coiling and twisting around each other. With a lurch, the tendrils pierced the body and thrust it high into the air. A prolonged scream burst from the impaled figure. Its back arched, the tentacles writhing like frenzied eels in a barrel. The cry ended with vocal cords cracking, as the ragdoll corpse smashed into the stone floor with a wet crunch.
Crimson pooled around the ruined body. The blood pouring from the wounds slowed to a steady oozing, and a few moments later were no more than slow drips. Within a minute, the bleeding had stopped altogether.
The figure gasped a ragged breath, fighting to control their broken shell and failed, throwing their head back, howling at the white-hot fire coursing through their veins. It came out as nothing more than a tortured croak.
Shattered bones cracked, knitting together while ripples rushed towards the outer edge of the bloody pool. The tiny waves hit the side and rebounded as if receding after crashing onto the shore. Converging at the centre, blood leapt forming a stream of crimson which branched into veins. The fibrous strands swayed, searching, then plunged into the wounds with a splattering sound.
Within seconds, the figure was whole again, brimming with untold energy. They stood, bowed before the retreating fog, then turned, striding from the now dark cavern.
The final unspoken command from the alien presence echoed inside their mind.
“Find the child empress and destroy her.”
DEAR READERS
Thank you so much for reading Fogbound.
If you would take a few minutes to leave a review, I would be very grateful. Reviews help others decide whether to spend their time and money on a book.
I take reader reviews seriously as they help me improve my work, and publish better and more enjoyable books for you.
How to Leave an Amazon Review
Go to your order detail page
In the US - Amazon.com/orders
In the UK - Amazon.co.uk/orders
Click the Write a product review button next to your book order.
Rate the item and write your review.
Click Submit.
How to leave a Goodreads review
Go to goodreads - bit.ly/goodreads-fogbound
Click on the star rating under the book cover
Then you can choose to leave a review
YOUR FREE BOOK IS WAITING
FALLEN ANGELS is a collection of 19 short stories including a few set in the Fogbound universe during the invasion which takes place before the events of FOGBOUND: Empire in Flames.
Send me my FREE eBook Now
Acknowledgments
I have to once again thank Jayne, my lovely wife, who has supported me through the writing and editing process to get this book into your hands (or e-hands). There were many times during the 12 months of editing, where my resolve seemed to waver. Whenever that happened, Jayne was there to support me — reminding me why I was taking this much time to polish the story of Simmons and Bazalgette’s adventures.
BTW: Sorry if this comes as a surprise, but Bazalgette is pronounced Bazzal-Jet. If you went for a hard G as in get (the hell out of here), then that’s just what I did when I was writing Fogbound. It was only after looking up some background material on YouTube, about Sir Joseph Bazalgette, that I realised my mistake. And it took a long time to get used to pronouncing his name with a soft G.
Special thanks to everyone I’ve ever roleplayed wi
th during my time at high school at Aireborough Grammar, through university at Brighton and the great friends I made in the roleplaying society - BURPS. And to all the groups I played with since then - including the longstanding association with the Wednesday Night Crew over the last thirty years! It’s been a blast and provided 30 years of writing experience ready for this novel.
To all the people who have given me their feedback on the story - whether it be Editing, Proofreading or general pointers on what was right and what needed some more work. And believe me, there was plenty that needed work!
Thanks to all of you, but especially to both Fiona McLaren and Ed McDonald for your excellent editing advice. Also to all the members of Write Club who trawled through the book for all those comma’s (Gemma, Lucy, Nick, Owen, Sara and Sophie).
I know I’ve broken the first rule of Write Club - “You do not speak about Write Club,” but hopefully you’ll forgive me this once.
If you found my take on a Steampunk London enjoyable, imagine all the fun I had researching it. Many of the names and places come from real life around the turn of the century.
The Red Hands, The Elephant and Castle, The Forty Thieves, The Silver Hatchets were all gangs from that period. Even Diamond Annie was a real person and leader of the all-woman Forty Thieves and was pretty much as described, tall, covered in diamonds and able to punch harder than a lot of men. She lived a little later in the early nineteen hundreds, but once I’d found a character like that, she had to make an appearance in my timeline.
Joseph Bazalgette, of course, was the famous engineer responsible for building the London sewer system after the Great Stink. The Thames was so full of “raw sewage” (that’s a polite way of saying it was full of little brown Richards - check your cockney slang if you don’t get the reference) that parliament finally insisted that something must be done. So along came the genius Bazalgette who designed a system that is still in use today and coping with the considerable increase in demand.
Dents of London are indeed watch and clockmakers by Royal Appointment - among many outstanding achievements, they build the clock for the houses of parliament, familiarly known as Big Ben. Though, as we all know, that’s the name of the bell.
I’ve used street names from 1899 maps of London, and again found a wealth of exciting info about places like Pye Street and the Lamb and Flag public house - though I must admit nicknaming it “The Bucket O Blood” was a concession to seeing a pub called that while I was on honeymoon in Cornwall nine years ago. It stuck with me all this time till I could finally use it.
If you get the chance, and have the inclination, take a look at all the amazing history around the turn of the twentieth century. You may find enough interesting nuggets of pure gold to inspire your own Steampunk adventure, as I did.
Last, but definitely not least, this book is for my mother Pat who sadly passed away in Feb 2019. She was a special person and a great mum who always supported whatever crazy venture I decided to follow: whether it be music, roleplaying or writing.
It was sad seeing her as a frail old lady when she had always been so vibrant and full of life. She suffered from Vascular Dementia, which progressed quite rapidly towards the end - with myself and Jayne almost becoming strangers to her when we visited.
I’ll remember her as an amazing, positive person - always out with her walking club friends and always willing to help anyone - a believer in social justice and a true Humanitarian.
Thanks for all the support, mum. I miss you.
About the Author
Gareth lives in make-believe worlds in the dark spaces between fantasy and science fiction. There he converses with imaginary friends and survives on a diet of tea, the finest curries available to humanity, and the occasional slice of Battenberg.
With over thirty years of experience writing for Roleplaying games, through almost every genre that interests him, Gareth finally bit the bullet and decided to finish a full novel starting in November 2017. From all his favourite settings, including fantasy, sci-fi, pirates and samurai, he chose Steampunk for his debut, and thus Fogbound was born.
To keep up with Gareth’s latest work check his website at www.GarethClegg.com