Gideon Smith and the Brass Dragon

by David Barnett

  The crowd gasped. Chantico frowned even deeper. Something was terribly, terribly wrong about all of this.

  The Old Man nodded vigorously. “Quetzalcoatl told me that his captor is a man who is half human, half machine. They call him Pinch, but he is in truth the earthly visage of Tezcatlipoca himself!”

  Several of the Yaqui fell to their knees, moaning.

  “But Tezcatlipoca has struck a deal with Quetzalcoatl. He said he would free him if Quetzalcoatl could bring him a wife who was less human than he. Quetzalcoatl asked how this was possible, as he was a prisoner. Tezcatlipoca told him that his worshippers would rise to help the lord of the morning.”

  The Old Man held out his arms. “Behold! We have in our hands the key to Quetzalcoatl’s liberation! And will the Yaqui not forever be the favored children of the Lord of the Star of the Dawn?”

  A roar went up from those in the cavern. Chantico thought his heart might burst, but whether it was from pride or fear he could not really tell.

  “We must take the bride to Tezcatlipoca, eh?” declared the Old Man. “Come, now! Let us lift her and carry her off! To Steamtown, to parlay the release of the great god Quetzalcoatl!”

  Steamtown? Chantico looked at the others, but their eyes were shining with fervor; they moved forward, reaching for the clockwork girl. Steamtown? They would be slaughtered.

  “Stop right there!”

  Chantico looked up, across the cave to the tunnel that led to the outside. The crowd fell silent, the flickering flames from the torches casting their orange glow on a black-clad figure, masked and holding a shining rapier high.

  “That girl is under the protection of La Chupacabras!”

  Oh, Inez, thought Chantico furiously. What in the name of the gods are you doing?

  * * *

  Inez Batiste Palomo had never felt so alive. Her heart hammered fit to burst, but it gave wings to her feet. She leaped from the rock to the sloping ground, dancing on her toes, spinning around and bringing her rapier down—movimiento natural!—in a fluid slashing motion, causing the surging crowd to halt and fall backward. Every lesson she had learned seemed burned upon her head, so that she barely had to think of an action, and she was already fulfilling it. Tajo! She cut in a sweeping movement across the Indians. Estocada! She thrust her weapon at the nearest, forcing him back into the natural basin at the center of the torch-lit cave. She twirled almost within the arms of a grasping Indian—medio de proporcion!—and pirouetted away, casting around to take in the situation. About thirty Yaqui, in an agitated mood. A stone slab, some kind of altar, on which lay Maria. An incredibly ancient Indian, in faded, stiff robes, his scrawny neck garlanded with strings of beads and leather thongs, glaring at her with shining eyes.

  And there, skulking in the shadows like the thief in the night that he was, stood Chantico.

  Idiot, she mouthed at him.

  Lo siento, he mimed back.

  She stood straight, breathing hard, and held out her sword arm straight, the rapier extended toward the old man.

  “You. Release the girl.”

  He raised his head, looking down his crooked nose at her. “It is not a girl, eh? It is a machine.”

  He reached into his robes and withdrew a gun. Colt .45, if Inez identified it correctly. Not the usual Yaqui weapon of choice. He smiled and said, “You, on the other hand, are a girl. Young Chantico’s Spanish whore, I believe. And you will bleed. It appears Quetzalcoatl will have his sacrifice this day after all.”

  * * *

  Gideon groaned. A cave. Why was it always a cave? He was a child again, on his ill-planned venture into the tunnels that marbled the Lythe Bank near his home of Sandsend, lost in the darkness, feeling the weight of the rock pressing down on him, squeezing the life out of him, until his father, Arthur, had come to get him, carrying him out into the precious sunlit day. He had thought he had conquered his fear when he was forced to enter the underwater passageway that led to the Rhodopis Pyramid in Egypt, spurred on by Louis Cockayne’s assertion that his fear was merely a lie. But Gideon knew, deep down, that such a terror could never be truly dispelled, only buried. And the yawning mouth of the cave ahead of him suddenly and clearly excavated his fear once more.

  But much had changed. Then, he had been a small boy. Then, he had been a mere fisherman’s son. Now he was the Hero of the Empire. Or so they kept telling him.

  Gideon slid off Ackroyd’s horse and tethered it in the shadow of a flowering tree. Inez’s own horse was tied to a rock by the cave entrance. Whatever her reason for donning that strange outfit, she had come here and gone into the depths of the rocky hill. He could only guess that it had to do with her lover, Chantico, and that it was in some way connected to Maria.

  He swallowed hard. He had come so far looking for Maria. He could not fail now. Checking the revolver he had taken from the armory onboard the Skylady III, he ventured forward and allowed himself to be swallowed by the darkness.

  The black was not total, however. The dim echo of torchlight illuminated a path through the rocks and into a wide, tall tunnel leading off from the cave entrance. He could hear voices, too. Slowly, he picked his way along the passageway, the flickering light brightening as he advanced, until the tunnel opened out into a large interior cavern. Gideon crouched down beside a rocky outcrop, assessing the scene before him. There was a mass of people, mainly young, with shining eyes and dark faces. Indians, congregating in a basin, facing a raised dais around which he could see Inez—masked, with a rapier held out straight, but unmistakably Inez—with a young Indian at her side. Her weapon was pointed at a thin, elderly Indian, who clutched a gun in his clawed hand. Between them was a rough stone altar.

  His heart leaped.

  Maria.

  “And you will bleed,” said the old man, his rasping voice echoing around the torch-lit cave. “It appears Quetzalcoatl will have his sacrifice this day after all.”

  “Not if I have anything to do with it,” said Gideon, standing up straight. He reached to the stone wall and plucked a flaming torch from where it had been driven into a fissure, and he held it high, making sure they could see his gun.

  “Who are you?” growled the old man, keeping his gun trained on Inez.

  “Señor Smith!” she exclaimed.

  “That’s right. I’m Gideon Smith. The Hero of the Empire. I don’t know what is going on here, but Maria is coming with me.”

  The old man laughed, which was not the reaction Gideon was hoping for. “The dust runs red with the blood of a thousand heroes, eh? Your empire means nothing here, Gideon Smith. You are simply another dead man.”

  The old man moved with a speed Gideon didn’t expect, bringing around his gun arm and letting loose a shot that exploded in the rock by his head, the report bouncing off the cavern walls. He shouted something at the gathering in his own language, and the crowd moved forward toward Gideon.

  “How many bullets, Gideon Smith?” cackled the old man. “Enough for all of them, eh?”

  Gideon waved his gun and fired above their heads, the bullet pinging off the cavern roof.

  “Please!” shouted the boy Gideon assumed was Chantico. “Please, they do not mean ill. They are under his control!”

  Even had he wanted to kill them all, the old man was right. Gideon didn’t have enough bullets. He saw Inez swing forward with her rapier, nicking the old man on his tissue-dry cheek, just as the mob fell on Gideon, dragging him from his perch. He swung the torch around, but there were too many of them, punching and kicking and hauling him toward the altar where Maria lay, still and quiet. At least I’ll die alongside her, he thought crazily. At least I found her.

  Through the melee he saw the old man wiping blood from his cheek, leveling his gun at Inez. “You shall die for that, bitch, and you, too, Chantico. You are a traitor to the Yaqui.”

  Someone wrestled the gun from Gideon’s hand and he was dragged along the stony floor, flung forward and up until he rolled to Inez’s feet. She tore off her mask and glared at h
im.

  “Why did you follow me?” she hissed.

  “I came to help,” said Gideon.

  “Now we all die,” she said.

  The old man had been passed Gideon’s gun, and he pointed both of them at Inez, Gideon, and Chantico. Gideon thought, If I get out of this alive, I swear I shall never again do anything without a proper plan.

  “Any last requests?” The old man grinned.

  “Yes,” said Gideon, indicating Maria. “She is my…”

  The old man raised an eyebrow. “The thing I see in your eyes and your heart is true? You love a thing of metal and gears?”

  Gideon looked him in the eye. “Yes. Yes, I do.”

  “And you would, what, have one last kiss?”

  Nonplussed, the old man waved his pistols. Gideon bent forward and brushed a hair from Maria’s face. He felt something bubbling up within him, as though he was going to laugh or cry, or perhaps both. He had found her, at last. Tears pricked his eyes. He had found her, and he had ruined it all again, just like he had when he took her to London and practically handed her to the monstrous Children of Heqet, just as he had when he climbed aboard the airship over London, leaving Maria in the hands of Louis Cockayne. He closed his eyes and leaned forward, and he touched his lips to hers.

  Finally, finally, he kissed her.

  ++CONTACT IMMINENT. INITIATING PROBE++

  ++FUSION OF BRAIN/CLOCKWORK COMPONENTS TO ACHIEVE INDEPENDENT AUTOMOTIVE FORCE: 100 PERCENT COMPLETE. HOST EMERGING FROM STASIS++

  ++READYING SIGNAL++

  ++PROBING CONTACT LEVELS++

  ++CONTACT DOPAMINE LEVELS: HIGH++

  ++CONTACT SEROTONIN LEVELS: HIGH++

  ++CONTACT OXYTOCIN LEVELS: HIGH++

  ++HOST DOPAMINE LEVELS: HIGH++

  ++HOST SEROTONIN LEVELS: HIGH++

  ++HOST OXYTOCIN LEVELS: HIGH++

  ++NECESSARY PARAMETERS ACHIEVED++

  ++SIGNAL TRANSMISSION: TRUE++

  ++HOST RECONFIGURED AND STASIS SUSPENDED++

  ++RECOVERY UNDERWAY. RECOVERY UNDERWAY. RECOVERY UNDERWAY++

  And Maria kissed him back. At first he thought he was imagining the pressure on his lips, then he felt her tongue, warm and wet, push hesitantly at his teeth. Her hands were on him. He opened his eyes.

  He looked straight into hers.

  Gideon pulled back. “Maria!”

  Her hand flew to her mouth, her artificial skin coloring at her cheeks, everything about her a testament to the genius of her creator, Hermann Einstein.

  “Mr. Smith! Oh, my!” She pushed herself up on her elbows and looked around, blinking. “Mr. Smith? Where are we?”

  “Texas.” He helped her off the altar. “You have been unconscious for quite some time.”

  She looked around as Gideon drew her to him, feeling her body against his. Inez, her rapier extended, moved to Maria’s other side and hissed, “Your moving reunion will have to wait, Señor Smith. We are in grave danger.”

  Behind them, Chantico whimpered, “I am sorry.”

  “And your sniveling apologies will have to wait also, idiot,” said Inez over her shoulder. “Can’t you do something useful, like call off your friends?”

  The young Yaqui seemed drugged, or drunk, swaying toward them, muttering under their breath, their eyelids fluttering.

  “Take her!” commanded the Old Man. “Take her to Steamtown!”

  The Old Man leveled his gun at Gideon. “You first, boy, then the Spanish girl. Chantico, you may use the time it takes me to kill them to repent for your base betrayal.”

  “I see some things have not changed while I have been out of action,” murmured Maria. “Men still underestimate me.”

  She reached forward and took hold of the pistol’s barrel. The Old Man’s eyes widened, and his finger tightened on the trigger. The gunshot was deafening in the hot cave, and the bullet ripped through Maria’s tattered dress, lodging in her abdomen. She looked down and tutted, wresting the pistol easily from the Old Man.

  “Who wants this? Gideon?”

  He took it from her, one eyebrow raised, as she twisted slightly and dug into the folds of her dress with her forefinger and thumb. “Did no one tell you?” she said to the Old Man. “I am the clockwork girl.” She smiled as she held up the snub bullet. “You cannot hurt me.”

  “You cannot kill them all!” shrieked the Old Man as the Yaqui advanced. “They shall overpower you!”

  Gideon glanced at Chantico, then Inez. “Can we trust him?”

  She nodded tightly, and he handed the gun to Chantico.

  “I … cannot,” he faltered. “Not against my people…”

  “Kill them!” cried the Old Man. “Kill them all!”

  Gideon, Maria, and Inez stood shoulder to shoulder, Chantico hiding behind them. The Yaqui were staggering toward them, arms outstretched. The Old Man shrieked again, “Kill them all!”

  “No,” rang out a stern, strong voice in heavily accented English. “There shall be no killing here today. Not on Yaqui land.”

  Another figure, an Indian, stood at the mouth of the tunnel, movement behind him. Gideon turned to Inez, but she gave him a shrug. Then Chantico groaned.

  “My father,” he said. “Now the trouble really begins.”

  The man emerged from the shadows, gazing down on them with proud dark eyes. He held up his hand at the young Yaqui and spoke rapidly in their language, which Gideon could not understand. He got the tone of it, though, as the Yaqui glanced guiltily at each other and began to shuffle their feet. Whatever spell they had seemed to be under evaporated at the strident tones of the older Indian.

  “I am Noshi,” he said, his arms folded, addressing Gideon. “I am one of the tribal elders.” More men emerged behind Noshi, and he cast his gaze around the cavern, settling on Chantico. “My son. You bring shame on our tribe, skulking in the shadows with the Old Man.”

  “Silence, Noshi!” cackled the Old Man. “Your time has ended, eh? A new order is arising!”

  Noshi stared gravely at the Old Man. “Quiet yourself, you foolish old brujo.”

  He withdrew his hand from within his robes and cast a leather bag to the floor. The Old Man gasped as it burst open, spilling coins across the stone.

  “British guineas and shillings,” said Noshi, looking around. “Blood money from the Steamtown white men.” He nodded at the Old Man. “We found it in his wigwam.”

  Chantico crouched and picked up a handful of coins. “British? Steamtown?” He looked up at the Old Man. “Where did you get this?”

  The Old Man looked away. Noshi said, “He has been sneaking to Steamtown, selling secrets to the white man.” He looked at Chantico. “Do you wonder why the Steamtowners knew where to find Ecatzin and the others with the trading party? Do you wonder why they knew there would be gold in their sacks? Ask him.”

  Chantico furiously threw the handful of coins at the Old Man. “You betrayed the tribe. And you would have taken Maria … not as an offering to free Quetzalcoatl, but to sell her?”

  Suddenly the Old Man shrieked and plucked a torch from the wall. He swung it around and ran for the cave entrance. Gideon trained his gun on him, but Noshi raised a hand.

  “Let him go. Those are your people at the abandoned mine, yes? You must come quickly.”

  “But he will be making for Steamtown!” said Gideon.

  “And he will find it empty,” said Noshi, “because Steamtown is on its way here.”

  21

  LAST STAND AT THE MINE

  “He did what?” asked Bent.

  “Borrowed the rancher’s horse, took a pistol from the armory, and headed off into the hills,” said Rowena, intently watching a flickering dial on the liquefaction engine. “Do you think this being in the red is a good thing or a bad thing?”

  “But why didn’t you effing stop him?” demanded Bent.

  Rowena looked up. “I am not Gideon’s keeper, Aloysius. He does what he wants. My priority is getting the Skylady III back in the air.”

  Be
nt pulled a face and deftly rolled a cigarette from his pouch of tobacco. He turned to see Cockayne looking up at the airship. “Want a ciggie?”

  Cockayne shook his head and patted his jacket pocket for a half-smoked cigar. He lit it from Bent’s match and said, “How are the repairs coming, Rowena?”

  “One cell fully inflated,” she said. “Second well on its way. This liquefaction engine is a marvel. How does it work, again?”

  Cockayne shrugged. “Don’t ask me. Came with the ’stat when I won it in the card game.”

  Bent chuckled. “You really live on your wits, don’t you, Cockayne?”

  “Only way to survive, Bent. Where’s Smith?”

  Bent sighed. “Took off on a horse, apparently. Rowena didn’t think to ask where he was going.”

  She gave him a pointed stare. Bent said, “Anyway, I’m sure he knows what he’s doing. Any sign of this Indian yet, Cockayne?”

  “No, and the Spanish girl’s gone missing as well,” said Cockayne thoughtfully. “Rowena? Is that a telescope?”

  She nodded and passed him the brass cylinder. He focused it out east. Bent squinted into the distance. “What’s that on the horizon? Dust storm or something?”

  Cockayne passed him the telescope. “Something,” he agreed. “Something beginning with Pinch.”

  * * *

  “What do you mean, leaving?” demanded Rowena.

  The ranchers had brought five horses with them, and Cockayne figured they weren’t going to miss another one. He tightened the saddle and checked his guns. “I mean leaving, as in getting the hell out of here.”

  “Louis…”

  “Don’t Louis me, Rowena,” he said firmly. “I’ve told Smith where they’re keeping the damn dragon and we’ve found where Maria is. As far as I’m concerned, that’s my side of the bargain done.”

  “So you’re just going to abandon us?”

  He sighed and turned to her. “Come with me. Hell, bring Bent, too. We don’t owe these people anything.”

  She shook her head. “You’re wrong, Louis. We owe them a chance at freedom. We owe them some protection.”