Threadbare Volume 3

by Andrew Seiple

  “What? Reason? Impossible! Garon, take him, would you?”

  Garon shifted Threadbare over to his shoulders, as Cecelia clambered up, porcelain feet scrambling for purchase on the rough stone blocks of the wall.

  And there below her, battered and a bit burned-looking, but still very much intact, was Reason. Its massive helm passed not ten feet below the arrow slit, giving her a very clear view of the cloth covering that no other steam knight in Cylvania had.

  “Impossible! Impossible!” she said, putting her hands on her hips. Then she hastily scrambled down, as one of the guards on a distant parapet glanced her way. “That... no. Can’t be done.”

  “What can’t be done?” Kayin asked.

  “Steam Knight armor can only be piloted by the Steam Knight who made it. You CAN’T use another Steam Knight’s suit. The magic doesn’t work. Worst case, you botch it, and the suit tries to kill you.”

  “It looks like it’s not as impossible as you think it is,” Threadbare said. “Because there it goes right now. Could they have animated it?”

  “No. It... animating things willy-nilly on them is dangerous. You need the right spells and sequence, and only Steam Knights get those. I... suppose someone could have completely taken the suit apart and reassembled it, but that would take a month, even for a top-tier tinker. It hasn’t even been half that. And I don’t know any top-tier tinkers who could be spared for that.” Cecelia frowned. “Something’s going on here.”

  “It went through a big portcullis in the eastern wall,” Threadbare said, then hopped down from Garon’s shoulders. “Thank you.”

  “That’ll be the machine bay.” Cecelia sighed and rubbed her chin, ceramic rasping on ceramic. She glanced around at the assorted doll haunters, golems, and one very worried necromancer. “Graves, how secure are we here?”

  “The fish were an out-of-cycle shipment, they told me. I get to spend the night here, then it’s off with the wagon tomorrow at dawn. I’ve been here an hour, and no one else has come by, so it’s probably pretty safe here.”

  “No problems getting in the gate?”

  “No, though they did wonder why so many fish were coming from Paws. There’s no big bodies of water down there. I told them that a bunch of fishermen had passed through and traded for stuff, but the village found the fish not to their taste. That got some picky peasant jokes tossed my way.” He shrugged. “They checked the barrels and decided not to turn down free food. The only problem is that I don’t know where they’ve taken Madeline’s barrel. They wouldn’t tell me.”

  “That’s a problem. But it’s a problem we anticipated,” Threadbare said. “Garon? Time for a King’s Quest.”

  He sent the details across. It was very simple, when all was said and done, as was the monetary reward. Just enough to synergize with Garon’s mercenary skills.

  “Find Madeline, huh? Works for me.” The minotaur grinned. “Sure, I’ll Do the Job. And Follow the Dotted Line.” He glanced around, and over at the door. “Goes right out the door. One minute.”

  He hoisted himself up to the window again.

  BOOM!

  The toys waited for the explosion to fade, and Garon dropped down, spoke a few times until he was sure they could hear. “...Testing, testing... yeah, okay. The line doesn’t cross the courtyard, so I can probably get to her without going outside. Piece of... No wait, hold on. I have something I need to do. I need to talk to Mastoya.”

  “Can you do dat, bring her here, and den go talk to Mastoya?”

  “Mmm... bad idea.” He held up a pouch, and jingled it. “I only have so many of the enchanted camouflage beads. I don’t know how many it’ll take to get to Madeline.”

  “How about this?” Cecelia asked, coming out of a long rumination. “We split into two groups. One group goes and gets Madeline loose and raids the General’s office. Garon, you go with that group so you can hang behind there and talk with Mastoya. Glub, you go with that group so you can give Madeline a waystone. You Waymark this room, and everyone Waystones back here when they’re done. Including you, Garon, if the talk doesn’t go so well. Promise?”

  “Promise.”

  “I’ll lead the other group. We’ll go see if I can get Reason back.”

  The toys would have blinked if they could. Graves did blink. “With all due respect, Captain—”

  “I’m not your Captain anymore. But I am a Steam Knight, and if I can get Reason back, I can beat feet all the way to the front, with everyone safely inside the cockpit.”

  Garon shook his head. “And the guns firing on the rogue Steam Knight every few—”

  BOOM!

  “—thank you dramatic irony, for making my point.”

  “No, they can’t target anything as small as Steam Knight armor,” Cecelia shook her head. “Besides, the shells are hollow, used for gas and alchemical dispersion. Reason could take a near hit, no problem.”

  “And what if they call in the Hand to deal with you?” Kayin pointed out.

  “It’d be overkill. I don’t see why. Besides, they’re probably busy with whatever assault the dwarves just launched.”

  “Zuula tink dis be bad idea.”

  “Look. I’m...” Cecelia raised her hands, and smoothed down her green dress, fingers shaking with agitation. “I’m not stupid. I know it’s a long shot. But I at least want to go and see if it’s possible. If it’s not, then we’ll wait for you guys to check the ledgers, and pick a shipment to put us in. Then we’ll see about getting over with that convoy’s goods.”

  “And assigning me as a driver,” Graves said. “I’m guessing I’ll wait in here until you all send word?”

  Threadbare nodded. “I think this is close enough to the original plan. It should be dark soon. Who wants to go with which group?”

  “You’ll need someone who knows where the commander’s office is, Garon,” Kayin slid over to join the tiny minotaur.

  “Zuula don’t want to get nowhere near Mastoya. Not go well for anyone if she see me,” said the plush shaman, trudging over to plop down next to Cecelia

  “I got to go with you to give Madeline a waystone, right?” Glub said, holding up a hand to Garon. “High five, Team Sneaky!”

  “Um...” Said Fluffbear, looking back and forth between Cecelia, then Garon. “You said she was a cleric?”

  “Yeah, of the goddess of war.”

  “I’m a cleric too. Maybe I can help you talk with her.”

  “I don’t know if that’s such a good idea.”

  “I’ll pray once we get there and ask Yorgum about it. If he says it’s a bad idea I’ll leave with the others.”

  BOOM!

  The doll haunters and golems were starting to get used to the thunderous shots, by now. They simply waited half a minute, then Garon resumed. “All right, just make sure you’re ready to use that waystone the second things go south. Because they might.”

  “That leaves me with you,’ Threadbare said, patting Cecelia’s shoulder. “You’ll need a scout to whisper to the others, just in case.”

  “And I’ve got the easy job,” Graves said, reaching into the pack and pulling things out, one by one. He nearly dropped the barrel of fish, before the others went to help.

  “Why empty it?” Threadbare wondered. “Oh. It’s going to burst at some point when Madeline’s spell wears off, isn’t it?”

  “Yes. And also... ha!” Graves said, as they hauled out the crate of soulstones. “I’ll need to keep them company. And it gives me access to a hell of a lot of skills if I need to borrow anything. Like oh, that wind’s whisper thing so I can call you for help if something goes wrong here. Because it might. There are so, so many ways everything could go wrong, here.”

  “Yes,” said Threadbare. “Sorry.”

  “Don’t be, man,” said Glub. “Savin’ the world, right?”

  “The Kingdom, anyway,” Cecelia said. “And he’s got a point. If we don’t take the risks, other people have to. And we’ve got a backup plan if we die. Again.”

/>   “Might I remind you that I never took my last decree down?” Threadbare pointed out, and they chuckled.

  For yeah, they had all pledged to the little bear, to be his subjects and reap the bounty of his Noblesse Oblige. And there on their status screens, the simple message remained—

  “Nobody die. Again.”

  “Almost dark,” Garon said, glancing toward the window. “No better time. Glub?”

  “Create Waymark. Create Waystone, Create Waystone, Create Waystone...” The fishmen solemnly handed out the weirdly-marked rocks that appeared with each chant.

  “All right.” Garon sighed. “We’ve got one shot at this. Let’s make it—”

  BOOM!

  *****

  Fort Bronze never slept.

  The pinnacle of the Crown’s might, the coordinating headquarters of its most grueling war, hummed with activity at all hours. The Siege Cannon never stopped firing, shaking the walls with each discharge, and the stone chips littering the halls that Threadbare passed through seemed to suggest that this was a regular thing.

  Not that he had much time to study them. One of his eyes was currently synced up to a small cloth mouse that he’d animated and kept behind them, watching out for trouble or oncoming traffic. Cecelia had her own mouse animi up ahead of the group, since she was more skilled with the trick.

  Zuula, for the most part, slunk along and tried to be patient with the slow pace. Five levels ago it would have been impossible, but shamans got wisdom, and it made all the difference.

  And luck, too, which helped out immensely when people passed by, and the three golems had to scramble for cover. But whenever there was no cover they could reach in time, the toys had to dip into their stock of camouflage beads... all save for Threadbare, who could use the skill with a single soft word.

  And use it he did. They passed through two guard posts, and at the second one, Threadbare had to pick up Cecelia and run for it. Although they’d made her cloth slippers to muffle her ceramic footsteps, she just didn’t have much stealth skill at all, and agility was a secondary concern to her, now that she didn’t have access to her scout levels.

  Finally, they reached the machine bay. Blocked off by a metal grille, the space between the crosshatched bars was easy enough to squirm through. Threadbare winced as his head smushed through, deforming a bit. The smarter he got, the more uncomfy that was. He didn’t exactly have brains, he didn’t think, but form seemed to follow function and he wasn’t sure if he could survive decapitation. It seemed best to leave that as an unanswered question.

  With his good eye, he saw Cecelia bend down and scoop up her mouse animi, tucking it into the pocket of her dress. “I’ll need both eyes for this,” she whispered, staring around at the piles of junk, and racks full of tools scattered haphazardly around.

  No one else was visible in the vast, open bay. Chains hung silently, with bits of war machines, geared contraptions, and spare Steam Knight parts arranged in separate lots, separated by chalk lines on the floor and portable barricades.

  “What dose for?” Zuula said, wandering over to a barricade and nudging it. Basically several slabs of metal on wheels, it was solid enough that she could barely move it, even with her fairly-good strength. Compared to a human, it’d be about chest height. For the doll haunters and Threadbare, they were huge barriers that thankfully weren’t in the way right now.

  Cecelia kept her voice to a whisper. “Those are for dangerous projects and devices. The Tinkers and Alchemists move them around as needed to partition the shop and get cover if something explodes. Please keep your voice down; we don’t want to draw guards.” The courtyard was right out THERE, just through a huge portcullis. It was lit by glowstones and still bustling, though down to about half the passers-by that they’d seen during the daylight hours. The lighting didn’t extend to the machine bay, though, and half of it was in shadow. And there were at least four doors and a winding staircase heading up into the cannon tower above, and any of those exits could have people within earshot.

  “Can you see all right?” Threadbare asked Cecelia. She didn’t have Darkspawn, like he and Zuula did.

  “Yes.” She looked back to the corner, where a hulking form squatted down, arms just visible in the light from the courtyard outside. “Mostly. Hang on.” She rummaged around in a nearby workbench, pulled out a metal tube, and capped one end. Then she grabbed a screw, whispered “Glowgleam,” and dropped it into the tube before it could flash into light.

  Threadbare and Zuula looked up at the spot of light on the ceiling, then down to Cecelia, who grinned. “A little trick I learned from Dad.” The grin faded. “One of the nicer ones, anyway. So long as I don’t point it to the courtyard and keep the spot out of view nobody should see it. Give me five minutes to go examine Reason.”

  The half-orc plushie nodded. “Okay. Zuula go check doors, listen for trouble. Shouldn’t be—”

  BOOM!

  The echoes were pretty bad in here. If he’d been organic, Threadbare thought he’d have a headache by now.

  “I just got a golem body level from that one,” said Cecelia, rubbing her skull as a red ‘18’ drifted up. “Mend.”

  “I’ll keep watch on the portcullis. And the grille.” Threadbare said, glancing around through the mouse’s dollseye. He glanced over to Zuula, but she was already gone, lost in the shadows. Of the three of them she was the most skilled at sneaking, and he supposed she could borrow rat skills or something to help out if she needed it. At any rate she was off being Zuula in a good way, so he trusted her to keep doing that. “Be very careful, okay?”

  “Absolutely.” Cecelia took one last look up at the light on the ceiling, then covered the end of the tube with her free hand, and slunk across the floor towards Reason.

  She disappeared between the rows of barricades, and Threadbare hunkered down, glancing back and forth.

  And a few minutes later, he heard something very close by.

  CLANK.

  Threadbare glanced around, and froze.

  Something big was moving, back in the far corner of the shop. Moving slowly, but that was definitely a ‘clack’ as it put a foot down and a scrape of metal on the stone floor. It looked for all the world like someone very tall in very heavy armor, tiptoeing.

  Maybe he hadn’t seen them? Threadbare slunk back into the shadows, ready to camouflage himself at the first opportunity.

  And then he gasped, as the armored figure moved into the first edges of the light coming through the portcullis. He knew that helm. He knew that armor.

  It moved up near him, glancing up at the ceiling, and Threadbare realized that it was trying to figure out where the spot of light had come from. It had been in the bay when they’d entered, and he’d mistaken it for just another war machine back with the rest of the strange contraptions.

  Opportunity warred with common sense, caution with nostalgia, and Threadbare realized that he could probably take a risk here, if he took a precaution first.

  “Command Golem – please whisper when talking and be generally quiet,” he told the figure—

  —and instantly it was as if his mind had slammed into a brick wall. The pressure was immense, as SOMETHING fought the spell, but Threadbare, initially surprised, rallied and PUSHED, using the willpower that he’d trained and boosted with level after level of caster jobs, and managed to get the command through.

  WILL +1

  Immediately, the figure whirled— but slowly, and with grace out of proportion to its size, taking care to remain quiet.

  Behind its helm, two gems flared to glowing life, shining red. Threadbare knew those gems well. He’d seen them every morning, when he came downstairs with Celia, back in Caradon’s house.

  “Hello Emmet,” he said, stepping out of the shadows. “Do you remember me?”

  “Yes,” the armor golem ground, in a rasping voice that was probably as quiet as it got but still about as loud as regular conversation. “You are Threadbare. You are family.”

  “Go
od,” sighed Threadbare, glancing back to the courtyard. Loud enough and far enough away that another discussion might not draw attention. Maybe. “So what have you been up to these last few years?”

  *****

  Madeline puffed in air, as her barrel shifted. Moment of truth now, she thought, with a word ready on her lips to unleash dragonfire on whoever was decanting her.

  But it died unspoken, as the top half of the barrel finished unscrewing and a horned wooden head loomed over her. “You got our message?”

  “Yeah.” Her neck rattled a bit as she uncoiled it, poked her head up past the rim of the barrel’s secret compartment, and nodded toward the catgirl in the back of the group. “Thanks for the whispah.”

  “Shh,” Kayin said, leaning out the door, holding out a wooden palm. “Twenty seconds. Then you can come out.”

  It was hard. Madeline had spent days coiled in that barrel, and though she didn’t have flesh anymore, she FELT cramped. But she waited until the catgirl switched from an open palm to a beckoning wave.

  Garon helped her out, and Fluffbear cushioned her fall.

  “Feels weahd to see you without Mopsy,” Madeline said.

  “We left her back with Graves,” the little bear squeaked. “I’m hoping he can convince her and Pulsivar to come out of the pack before it explodes.”

  The whole trip had been harrowing for the mini-cougar and Pulsivar. They’d had to share a litter box and hadn’t THAT been fun.

  “Create Waystone,” said Glub, handing her a little green rock.

  “What’s this?” Madeline squinted at it.

  Garon answered. “It’ll teleport you back to Graves. Please go. We’ll need the pack re-enchanted if it hasn’t blown up by now. And you’re sneaky, but you’re big, and we need to run up and get into the general’s office and that’s past three checkpoints—”

  BOOM!

  “What is that, anyway?” Madeline asked. “Been hearing it for a while now.”

  “Look, just go, please. And Glub, go with her, okay? No offense but you’re about as sneaky as a bowl of bananas.”

  “None taken, dude. What’s bananas?”

  “This whole mission. Gods, nevermind. Just go, okay?” Garon glanced back at Kayin at her sudden chopping movement, as she eased the door shut. The little toys waited, until footsteps passed the door and receded. Kayin eased the door open again, peering out. “This is a heavily guarded area,” Garon continued. “All the storerooms are.”