Gears of Brass

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Gears of Brass Page 15

by Jordan Elizabeth


  “How big is it?” I asked, trying to keep up with Father. He walks very fast, you know, even when exploring a new place.

  “Can’t say,” he said, grinning. He sounded like he might whistle.

  “So we’re just going to walk,” I asked, “until we can’t walk anymore?”

  “Maybe we are.”

  “What if it goes on for days?”

  “Perhaps months!”

  “Years!”

  “Longer, even,” he says. “I hear the inhabitants were immortal. Perhaps it goes on forever.”

  “So you really believed it? This whole time?”

  “Of course,” he said. “Didn’t you?”

  I shrugged and concentrated on my boots for a moment. “I’m glad it is real,” I said. “I’m glad we found it.”

  “Me too,” he said, turning to smile at me. “And I’m glad you’re here.”

  I just wanted you to know about that, that he said that, that he noticed. To tell the truth, I’m glad I came too, though I am still so sorry for how worried you must be.

  But here is where it gets better. Immediately after he said he was glad, the ground shook and a great noise bellowed up from the west end of the city.

  Samantha

  Dear Mother,

  I had thought finding the city was enough, but the temple is real, the princess is real, the Floating City of Zephyris is truly real, real in the way all the stories are real. There is no question now. After the ground stopped shaking, Father ran off toward the west, where Omar had gone. The desert seemed to go forever, but finally we reached one of the mountains. It rose high above us with the same look about it we had seen on the island—white rock carved into statues, isolated and empty, dead vines and brown leaves blowing occasionally across the stones. There was a break in the rocks about twenty feet up and without speaking or stopping to plan, we climbed up, grasping the edges and feeling for ledges with our feet. I could almost feel stairs, but there were none I could see. When we got to the opening, we ducked through what must have been an excessively small doorway once, and then we were in a room that could have been in a school, but covered in vine croppings and smelling like time. There was a long, flat table in the middle of the room half covered with broken bits of branches and leaves. Little though there was, the green was blinding and breathtaking after so much nothing. Around the table were cabinets full of beakers and measures and clamps and bandages.

  “Is this a physician’s room?” I asked. It seemed an unlikely thing for an ancient temple, but perhaps there had been other people living here more recently than we’d thought.

  “And who are you?” Father asked, drawing my attention away from the cabinet. Toward one corner of the room was a creature that looked like it had been assembled from pieces of a ship with a clock for a face, a hull torso that ticked, and hands made of what looked like clay. It groaned and cranked. “The sacrifice has been made,” it said. “She is awake.” Only then did I see a puddle of blood on the floor next to the empty table. It wasn’t a lot—not enough to suggest death, but still, strange blood on the floor is unsettling. I tried to leave immediately, but Father pulled me back.

  “Look at this,” he said. He flipped through the pages of a sloppily cloth-bound book and then shut it. “We have to find Omar,” he said. He handed me the book and disappeared.

  Samantha

  From the Notebook of Doctor Sylvester V. Garrison, 1799

  September

  Our leader is great, but he does not believe. He says we are crazy, and I suppose he must be right. Why should such a thing exist, and why should we have the power to create it? The questions, though, do not erase the fact that it does seem possible, whether or not it should, and immeasurably beneficial to our city—he will come around.

  October

  Some progress, but not all that was hoped. We have selected a test subject: Althea is a girl from the valley below the temple. Her mother says that the girl accepts her destiny to serve, having grown up in the shadow of the great temple. She seemed nervous, but I let her know what we plan for her is a great destiny indeed. The girl is a true lover of nature, and I know it will do her heart well to understand how crucial she is for life in our city.

  November

  The gears are in place and blood and living water flows through and, for now, Althea sleeps. We must wait to see the results of this most innovative experiment.

  The people ask me why, and I cannot believe they do. My creation will be a mother to them. She will bring life to our city, harness the rains and make things grow. We have little on this island that is natural, but that will all change. Still, I worry. While I wait, I will make a guardian for her, something to protect her while she sleeps.

  December

  Althea is like a child learning to walk. The modifications have made her forget her old life, her people, her world. Luckily for us, her love for it remains. Branches shoot from her hands without warning, and the slightest bit of rain swells around her and drenches the temple. Sometimes grass grows under her feet, shooting through the stone floor of the temple. In time, she will learn to control it, and she will be glorious.

  January

  Training is slow. Sometimes we leave the confines of the temple, and it is still too much for her. She sees people she does not know, but should, and when she is upset, all the work we’ve done is lost. She is safe when there is nothing and no one around, so more training is necessary. Her guardian is nearly completed. He will be sentient, but not living—a creature made up of the ship that crashed in the south some time ago. He will protect her, and perhaps us as well.

  March

  The rain doesn’t fall, the famine continues. I shudder to go outside, but I must try. I will take Althea outside today for one last attempt. If it fails, I will let her sleep until such time she can revive our city—it is our only hope.

  April

  It is too late. I took one last chance, but I have lost her, lost the city. It was too much—the dry ground, the stench everywhere. As she walked, the earth burst through from below, tearing up homes and bodies, ships and stores. The vines grew for her and wrapped around everything we saw. I think I can stop her, and if I do, she will sleep here until she can be useful again. For now, our city has been destroyed by the very thing that might have saved it. The ship creature will guard her, and if anyone should come again, he will find the blood to bring her back and to bring back our home.

  Dear Mother,

  I’ll try to keep the notes we found, so you’ll understand. But in case they are taken from me, I’ll tell you all I can. As far as we can tell, this is what happened—Omar found the princess. When I say princess, I mean of course, Althea, a young woman who was “modified” to become some sort of earth-goddess and save Zephyris from I don’t know, the Sun? It’s unclear what modifications were made, but it seems to require blood and water from the island itself. There was a guardian made from an old ship in the room, who managed to get Omar to make a “blood sacrifice” to wake the princess. And then she woke up. Once we realized what had happened, Father ran out of the temple and I followed, after reading through Dr. Garrison’s notes. It seems only one hundred years ago the doctor modified the girl, then lost control—she made the island come to life again, but nearly destroyed it in the process. And somehow, she has awoken to see her own barren land again.

  Luckily, she left a trail of plants and trees that had sprung up where she walked, bursting through stone and ground—even the equipment we had left behind. I ran for a few minutes before I caught up and had a glimpse of her. She is, of course, stunning. She looks like a mother, or like a painting of a mother, perfect and welcoming with long, thick hair, soft-looking skin, and a solid build like she was made to be this. I wonder what finishing school would have made of her. Omar trailed behind in something of a fog, and Father had run for the boat.

  Weapons… I realized he was going for the crossbow to take her down, and the thought made me panic. She didn’t mean any of this.
She was made for it, but she had been made wrong and couldn’t control her actions. Would you shut me down if I did what you wanted, only too well? Would Father? I followed him to the boat, but just as I managed to heave myself over the side, I turned around and there she was. Her hands were outstretched, her eyes wild. I took a step toward her, and a weed shot up through the wood of the ship, narrowly missing my foot. Another step, another shoot, and soon I couldn’t get through the mass of plants collecting around my shoes.

  “Please,” I said. “I know you don’t mean this.” When she looked at me, I saw it all in her eyes—panic, confusion, and still, drive. She was going to do what she was made to do.

  She raised her hand and the wood of the ship began to break apart, to peel off the ship and plant in the ground like nearby trees. A plank that Father stood on began to come away, but I was far, too far for anything. I couldn’t make it to him, so I leapt from the ship and ran full force into the princess as hard as I could. She fell, but there was a splash behind me. Don’t look, don’t look, I told myself. I couldn’t look. Instead, I focused on the girl before me. I saw some trace of who she was before, her dark eyes, the curve of her lip where she might have smiled.

  “Please stop,” I whispered. “Althea, you don’t know what you’re doing.”

  But she couldn’t. She raised her hand again and without thinking, I grabbed her arm and pulled her toward me, so we both fell down. My back thumped hard against the ground, even with the new bed of grass. Luckily, I missed the branch with thorns that had grown there, but a trickle of blood started to run down her arm. I felt someone behind me, a rustle, and then she began to change. Her face changed first, wrinkles overwhelming her skin, her dark hair turning gray from the roots down. Her body shrank and pinched together, her arms lost strength, and her eyes clouded over before closing. For a long second, I was afraid she was dead, that I had killed her, but then she opened her eyes. “Where am I?” she said. I moved, so she could stand.

  “It was the blood,” Omar explained from behind me. I turned around to face him. Just behind him stood Father, drenched and held up by Mikhail and James. “She’s herself again.”

  I ran to hug Father and got a little damp myself. Omar went to the princess and spoke quietly to her. “She needs to rest,” he explained, and so we all walked back to the temple.

  Samantha

  Dear Mother,

  After Althea rested, we talked, and a few things came to light. She, as herself, is no longer the guardian of this place. We could hook her up in the temple again, but it wouldn’t work. This place needs a new guardian. Someone young, who loves nature, who can take care of this place. Someone like me. I hope you can understand.

  Samantha

  Dear Mother,

  Now I hope, perhaps, you will read these out of order. Yes, I volunteered to sleep. I went to the temple and lay upon the table now bursting with vines and leaves. Omar started to find the tubes that would make the change, but Father stopped him.

  “Why?”

  I sat up, ready to argue, but he held up his hand.

  “I understand why you feel the need, but is this truly necessary?” he asked. “We can learn. We have technology now, we can make things grow with our hands, and hard work. We can do it as we are. Would you help me with that, instead, if I asked you?”

  Father wants to stay, and I want to help. He’ll be traveling back and forth, and I’ll stay, but I need help too. There is a whole island to be irrigated and planted and maintained. I can’t be the only one here, even with Althea to show me what she knows. I need finishing. I need my own mother. Father will be back in England within the month to collect supplies and bring you these letters. When he returns, we will begin working to bring this place back to life like our own giant garden. Please be on that ship when he returns. I know you’ll love it here like I do. I love you, Mother. I hope I’ll see you soon.

  Love always,

  Samantha

  The Clock

  ttah and his band of grave robbers descended into the eleventh level of the Correlian Temple. They were cloaked in black linen and had slipped past the sleeping temple guards and praying priests.

  Before them stood Alexander, an under-priest dressed in a blue robe with a yellow clock on his chest. He was busily shining a life size bronze statue of Bella, the child of time. She was said to be the protector of Apollo, the clock of life. The statue had been placed in front of a huge door with a clock in the center.

  The teenage boy glanced up from his polishing and his eyes widened. He looked down at where he was polishing and quickly removed his hands from the statue’s chest and placed them behind his back. He swallowed several times and said, “Gentlemen, this part of the temple is off limits. It’s dangerous here; return to the entrance for your safety.”

  Uttah said, “Boy, we have business behind the great door. Now if you’ll run along, we’ll get to our work.”

  Alexander stepped in front of the door and took a deep breath and said, “Please sir, this is holy ground. If you can’t show respect for the temple, show some concern for your own lives. There’s death beyond these doors. Don’t throw away your lives for a bit of treasure.”

  The thief lord gave a belly laugh. “Boy, I’m aware of two rumors. First, there’s a considerable amount of gold behind this door, and second, the largest diamond in the world is inside. Now which of these is incorrect?”

  The under-priest stood tall and met Uttah’s stare. “Sir, this chamber hasn’t been opened in a thousand years. No one knows exactly what’s inside it. Though, it is referred to as the chamber of death for a reason.” He then grabbed a mop and held it out in front of him. “I can’t let you pass. This is for your own protection. Now please back away while you still have a chance.”

  Uttah chuckled and asked, “Is this all the resistance there is? I’m rather disappointed; it will be a simple matter to take the treasure.” There were snickers from the men and when the thief lord made a motion with his hand the cutthroats fell upon the boy who was disarmed and dragged to the doorway.

  The thief lord ran his large fingers through his black beard. “Under-priest, so you’re concerned about our welfare? How kind of you to volunteer to be the first to enter the forbidden chamber. Whatever awaits us in this tomb will kill you as easily as it will kill one of us.”

  The large man then took the key out of his pocket that he had stolen from the sleeping temple guard. He stepped up to the huge door and inserted it into the face of the clock and twisted it until there was a click. He grabbed the minute hand and began to turn it. As it moved, the gears inside the great door began to spin. When the time matched the actual time of day, the slab swung inward. Air rushed into the vacuum of the chamber.

  When the dust settled, the horde moved to the great archway and peered inside the chamber. The men gasped. They beheld a massive domed room with blue glowing crystals imbedded in the stone walls. The dome housed a bronze clock the size of a church. The arms and numerals on the huge face of the clock were made of gold. At the center of the clock sat a blue diamond the size of a melon. Extending down from the clock face were tendrils of gold as large as a man’s thigh. They were spread out like veins and went down into an elaborate floor with huge, multicolored crystal tiles.

  Inside the clock tower, a bell began tolling and the ground began to gently hum. “What is it? What’s happening?!” yelled one of the men.

  The thief lord grimaced. “Fools, it’s the alarm. That’s what happens when you violate a tomb that’s been sealed for a millennium. Did any of you think we could steal the greatest treasure in the world without any danger? Be patient, we’ll wait and see what befalls the boy.”

  Alexander was shoved into the chamber where he sprawled upon the floor. A tile gave way mere inches from his face and he watched it fall until it disappeared from sight. He stood up on wobbly legs, clasped his hands together and said, “Stop this. I don’t want to see all of you die. Think of your wives and your children.”
/>   Uttah pulled out a pistol and aimed it at Alexander. “Don’t worry lad, just make your way to the clock and see what’s in there. That’s all I ask. Now get on with it.” His face hardened and he motioned towards the clock with the gun.

  Alexander took several more steps until a tile gave way beneath his weight and he frantically grabbed at the edge of the hole. He pulled himself up onto the floor and glanced back at the entryway where the rabble of thieves snickered. He took another step and a stone fell out of the ceiling, barely missing him. The next step brought a volley of silver arrows, several of which went through his robe. He gingerly got back to his feet and rubbed his arm where an arrow had grazed him. He glanced back at the thief lord.

  Uttah said, “Get on with it, boy. We don’t have much time. I’m sure by now the priests are done with their prayers.”

  Alexander slowly moved ahead. He would lightly touch the tile ahead of him, then withdraw and see what disaster befell him.

  The rumbling of the ground began to increase until a hole appeared on the opposite wall and a large, steam-powered auger broke through. It was retrieved and the opening enlarged until fifty soldiers stood staring out of the gaping hole.

  Their leader, General Fracc, stepped through. He tipped his cap to the thief lord and with a smirk on his face said, “Uttah, it is a pleasure to meet you. Thank you for coming here today; I’ve wanted to enter the chamber of time for decades. Unfortunately, I knew that there would be an uproar among the people if we entered the Correlian temple. However, since you’ve already desecrated the place, we’ll now be seen as heroes for apprehending you.”

 

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