“Where is he?” he growled, crunching splinters beneath his boots.
The people inside stirred from their sleep, coming down the stairs with their pistols ready. They presumed the city was under attack.
“What's all this ruckus?” Leadman asked, covering up a yawn.
“Where's Gregan?” Rommond barked.
“He should be in his quarters. Why?”
Rommond thundered up the stairs, pushing past Leadman. He forced open the door to Gregan's room, but it was empty.
Leadman strolled up beside him. “What's all this about, Rommond?”
“He tried to kill Brogan.”
“Taberah's kid?”
“Yes.”
“Blimey. Are you sure?”
“I trust the boy's word.”
“Maybe you shouldn't,” Leadman said. “Unless you've forgotten how much of a liar you were when you were a boy.”
“Brogan's not like you and I. It's not his nature to lie.”
“Fair enough. I'll see that Gregan is disciplined.”
“No,” Rommond said, shaking his head violently, and stabbing his chest with his index finger. “I'll see that he's disciplined.”
“That's not your call, Rommond. He's one of my men.”
“Yet another reason why we shouldn't trust you.”
“You'd want to watch that tongue of yours. You've flown mighty high these last few years, but your wings can still be clipped.”
Rommond glared at him. “There was a saying in the trenches—”
“You and your sayings,” Leadman interjected, rolling his eyes.
“—He who is loyal to the conman and the criminal shares in their crimes.”
“If you're trying to suggest that I was somehow complicit in Gregan's actions, if indeed they were even his actions, you are very much mistaken. I've risked a lot coming here to help you win this war. I can't help but feel that maybe you're not doing your part to uphold the bargain.”
“I've always done my part.”
“I have reserves coming in from Copperfort in a few days. Why should I station them here?”
“Don't make this about you and I,” Rommond barked.
“I didn't. You did.”
The general's glare was penetrating. “If you want a little war between us, then you'll have your little war. And maybe Gregan can stand in the no man's land between us. That way he'll die to both our bullets.”
43 – HOMECOMING
Brooklyn arrived back in Blackout from his final work disarming the bomb that same night, and was surprised at the commotion. He did not find Rommond in the Olive Inn, where he expected, but in the war room below ground, brooding over a worn map of Altadas.
“Edward.”
Rommond turned to him, and smiled. “You're back.”
“You never asked if all of me came back.”
The general bit his lip. “I was afraid to.”
Brooklyn smiled. “You did not need to be afraid.” He sat down beside the general and placed his hand on his. “Always thinking of the next battle, hmm?”
“War is not for the weary,” Rommond said. “We rest in death.”
There was a knock on the door, and Jacob came inside.
“Is he okay?” Rommond asked.
“Yeah. He's sleeping now. Lorelai is watching him.”
“I put a guard on his room, and on the inn,” the general said.
“I saw.”
“What happened?” Brooklyn asked.
“One of Leadman's men,” Rommond replied, shaking his head. “I can't believe he'd do that to a kid.”
“Little Brogan? He is hurt?”
“Not as hurt as Gregan will be.”
“That's why I'm here,” Jacob said. “When you find him, maybe … you should spare him.”
“Are you mad?” the general asked.
“Trust me, I want to strangle that coward myself. But this isn't about what I want, or what you want, or what makes us feel better for not protecting Whistler. I think if we go around firing bullets, we'll only make things worse. That's not what Whistler wants.”
Rommond sighed. Brooklyn clenched his hand a little tighter and gave him a reassuring nod.
“I suppose you're right,” the general said. “Vengeance doesn't heal wounds, does it?”
“It makes new ones,” Brooklyn said.
“Never got to say it before, but good to see you back,” Jacob said, saluting Brooklyn. “Did you complete your mission?”
“I did, and that is why I'm here.”
Rommond straightened up. “Oh?”
“I made journey of discovery. The spirits are not just in machines. They are in nature, in everything, even in Glass.” He took a small crystal shard from his pocket, which glimmered as if it were responding to him. “I hear not just one language, but many dialects. For long the spirits of machine were at war with spirits of nature, but they seek peace, like we seek peace, and they can achieve that peace … through us.”
“A year ago I would have doubted you,” Rommond said, “but then a year ago I thought you were dead. Let life surprise me then, for some of them have been pleasant.”
“I now understand Glass like I understand iron,” Brooklyn continued. “I see in its deep veins same anatomy I see in wires and cables. All things live. To bring them together, it is not so much matter of engineering as it is matter of diplomacy. True engineers are just ambassadors for lives of all things.”
Rommond looked very eager, and seemed to be fighting his desire to urge Brooklyn to get to the point. Jacob could tell he was building up to something, that he was almost working it out right then and there before them.
The tribesman produced a large schematic, with many fine details. It showed a kind of mobile missile launcher, with giant rotating treads, and what looked like crystal missiles. There were so many tiny parts of the drawing, with many explanatory notes in the tribesman's language, and what looked like symbols from languages that no one else there present knew, that the sight was immediately overwhelming.
While Jacob's face was bewildered, Rommond's was pasted with an open smile. “Brooklyn's back,” he said.
“What is it?” Jacob asked.
Brooklyn gestured to the drawing. “This is landship without weapons.”
“Then what are these?” Jacob pointed to the missile-like objects.
“Concentrated Glass. It tears a hole in space, through which we may move.”
“A Rift,” the general said. “Like the one the demons came through.”
“The marans came through,” Jacob corrected. “So … what good is this?”
“We take back our home by taking theirs,” Rommond said.
“But isn't it barren?”
“It is empty of many things,” Brooklyn explained, “but spirits live there too, and know it has great secret—why people from there do not get well.”
“The Iron Plague?”
“They are controlled by him, and by their fear of disease, and lust for cure. When they see that he keeps them that way, they will not follow. They will break their chains like I broke my ones made of wire.”
“This could end the war,” Rommond said.
“It will end,” Brooklyn stated, “one way or other way.”
“I almost dare not ask,” Jacob said, pointing to the schematic of the missile launcher, “but does it have a name?”
“No,” Brooklyn said. “I am not good with names.” He turned to Rommond.
“I've got one,” the general said, and his smile was now infectious. “The Hometaker.”
The final book in the series, Hometaker, is out now. See how it all ends.
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ve you checked out the Children of Telm series? You can find all of Dean F. Wilson's books here:
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A final message from Dean:
Thank you for reading! I hope you enjoyed the story so far. Before you go, I'd like to ask you a small favour: if you liked what you read, please leave a review on Amazon. Short and sweet is perfect. Reviews are essential to a book's success, and you could be instrumental in helping to make Worldwaker an international bestseller. Thanks! :)
Worldwaker: A Steampunk Dystopian Action Adventure (The Great Iron War, Book 5) Page 18