Or, perhaps, out of it. Where the tunnel ended, huge chunks of broken ice seemed to have been brushed aside, away from the mouth of it. I gauged the size of the tunnel for a moment. It was certainly big.
An idea began to form in my head, just as another blast from the Eyes' cannon ripped the air past the side of the ship.
"Liza! Can your amplifier focus the lightning strike?"
She screwed up her brow. "I think so, Cap'n, but I cannae be sure! Why?"
"Trust me. Focus the strike directly forward from the prow, and don't you fire it until I call it! Everyone else, we're going to have a bit of turbulence, so hang on tight!"
I pulled the wheel hard up, and the Nephele swung widely upwards. The higher we climbed, the more the amplifier hummed with static electricity. I could almost taste the ozone as the clouds around us began to feed further into the device. The Nephele turned to face her oncoming attackers. I shut the steam valves completely.
"What on earth?" came Victoria's voice. "Captain, you'll crash us!"
"Sails! Bring them down! Fold in the masts, right now!" I yelled. The crackling device at the prow of my ship turned directly toward the oncoming adversaries, I grinned. Yes, we would fall out of the sky. Perfect. The important bit would be that the Eyes see us preparing this shot.
As the sails began to come down, and the masts fold back, only the buoyancy tanks kept us in the air. With a sudden realization, the craft in front of the bunch slowed, and began to turn away.
‘Now’s the time’, I thought.
The rudder strained against my hands as I let the Nephele suddenly dive, down toward the ground. I forced it to the left, and the ship began to turn, using wind currents and gravity to help with its gliding. We were gaining speed, closer and closer to the ground, closer, and closer!
"Cap'n, ye'll kill us all!"
At the last second, just as it looked like we would smash into the ground, I kicked the steam valves open, and we shot forward, skimming just above the icy ground. The hull crushed smaller ice stalagmites as we powered forward. One false move...
The entrance to the tunnel lay in front of us, a cylindrical tunnel that was eerily smooth. By now, the Eyes had seen what was happening, and were full-steam trying to catch up to the Nephele. They almost would have, too, if not for...
"Liza! NOW!" I cried, and cut the steam at the same time as I hauled the rudder up. The ship, still just barely gliding over the icy surface, slid into the tunnel. The hull made contact with the glassy ice, and as the front of the ship pulled upwards, Liza let loose the charge we had accumulated.
The sound was like a thousand thunderclaps all gathered at once and were having a contest on who was loudest. A white-hot flash filled the tunnel, and the scent of hot ozone permeated the air. The lightning bolt blazed into the top of the tunnel, and cut a swath through the ice that looked like a great scar. As the strike died off, just as quickly as it had occurred, the Nephele kept sliding, under the scar, past the rumbling in the ice that began.
Victoria looked dumbfounded. "You reckless, irresponsible madman! My god, you're clever!"
The Nephele slid to a halt. Behind us, the steam boilers of the Eyes' ships were blasting. If they got inside the tunnel, we'd be trapped here. I crossed my fingers.
Just as their front ship became visible through the tunnel, the rumbling that started second ago became a deafening roar as huge cracks suddenly appeared in the tunnel where the lightning carved its path. A massive chunk of ice fell from the top of the tunnel, and slammed into the ground, sending up a dust of crystalline cold.
Then, on top of the ship that started to try to push its way inside, the tunnel began to collapse fully. The ship was buried in a matter of seconds, crushed under the weight of the ice, and the tunnel was completely blocked off.
The silence after that great thunderous roar was equally deafening. Everything was still for a moment. My crew waited, breath held, for any sound or movement from the icy rubble.
None came.
I took a deep breath, let it out slowly, and smirked. "Ladies and gentleman, the winner of today's race is the Nephele, paying twenty thousand to one!" A resounding cheer rose up from the crew.
Liza, perhaps the happiest of all of us, showed her pleasure a different way: already she had drafting paper, straightedges, slide rules out, and was making a blueprint of the amplifier device that had so recently not only saved our prospects, but very likely our lives as well. The device itself had partially melted, and would take a while to detach from the prow, but Liza knew exactly what went where.
The crew took a few minutes, medical patching up the ones that had been bumped about by such a rough landing and Dale's clockworks skittering about the hull to check how bad the damage was.
Ahead of the ship, not two hundred meters off, the brass-inlaid doors of the workshop towered. We'd reached it, finally, after all the work collecting the map, and piecing together the location, and regaining the stolen piece, and navigating the storm and all of the bloody work we had done, we'd made it.
Everyone was geared up. Food, water, weaponry, tools, and empty bags and carts were at the ready. Liza hefted her huge wrench. Victoria strapped her saber tighter to her belt. Dale cocked back the string on his crossbow.
"Well," I said, turning to face my crew. "We've come all this way. It would be a shame to not go inside!" I put my hand on the brass handle of the door, oddly warm to the touch, and pushed.
The door creaked loudly, and swung open. I wasn’t prepared for what I would see next…
*****
~Volume Two: The Fire-Beasts~
The huge chunks of ice fell from the ceiling of the tunnel, massive, jagged pieces crashing down like thunder spilling from the mug of a god. As I watched the scene unfold, one piece came crashing down on the heat cannon that was attached to the prow of the Antimony Eyes' ship, wrenching it from the wood and sending it tumbling to the ground, breaking into large pieces. The men on the deck began to run, trying to escape the shower of razor-sharp shards and huge, bludgeoning blocks. It was over in seconds-- the ship was buried in a mountain of tons of ice, the entrance to the tunnel was blocked off completely and the rumbling died down, leaving my crew and I in an almost eerie silence.
My breath showed as thick white clouds as I waited for a sound. For any sign of life. Ten seconds, fifteen seconds; no sound from the other side.
I turned, dusted off my collar, and smirked. There arose a loud cheer from my crew, and I raised one fist in the air, returning the shout of elation. We were safe (in a manner of speaking), we'd escaped the Antimony Eyes (for the time being), and we had access to the entirety of the workshop of Copernicus Wrightworth (about which I could think of no drawbacks).
Victoria positively shook with excitement. "You foolish, reckless..." she began, and went on in a manner one might expect for several minutes. Her excitement wasn't wholly unfounded-- I had just taken a flying ship and dove into a hole in a mountain of solid ice encasing a workshop into which nobody has been in around two centuries, so I guess she was justified in yelling at me.
She paused for a moment, her hand raised to hit me. Slowly, she let it down, grasped her collar, and sighed. “My god, you're clever.”
*****
The doors to the workshop, heavy, dark oak inlaid with brass rivets and reliefs of figures dancing and posing with each other, swung sluggishly on the hinges, creaking loudly as they opened. Inside, the ice seemed to have stopped at the doorjamb, as if it were unwelcome and had been turned away. The whole of the interior looked like something from a haunted house attraction at the carnival-- a layer of dust covered everything from the hardwood floors to the vaulted ceiling beams, and dull grey light streamed in through the dusty air in large beams, illuminating mottled patches of a lush, if thickly shrouded in particles, carpet.
On either side of the threshold, which oddly opened outward rather than inward, two mannequin-like dolls, dressed in lavish velvets and silks, stood on rounded platforms set into
a track on the floor. A sort of whirring sound under the floor caught my attention, and I motioned everyone back, as the mannequin on the right side jerked forward on its track. The other one tried, but something was broken in its mechanism, so it only shuddered a few times against the obstruction and then stopped.
As it reached the end of the track, placing it just to the right of the entrance, it straightened its posture, and bowed at the waist deeply. I caught a glimpse of a small phonograph table on her back that began to turn as she straightened up. A warbly female voice came from her wooden mouth:
“Welcome to the main workshop of Dollmaker Copernicus Wrightworth. The Master is not in at the moment, but feel free to wait in the drawing room. He will see you as soon as he returns.” Listening to the warped voice from a mouth that did not move was sort of unsettling, but it was made even more so when the doll, whose hands were folded neatly at her waist, gestured with one hand, and the fingers articulated with a measured preciseness that looked too real for my tastes.
The doll stopped sharply, frozen in her polite but creepy beckoning position. That was the end of her scripted movement. What looked at least vaguely like a living person returned lifelessly to just a collection of cogs and pulleys inside a shell. Slowly, I took a step forward toward it, tapped it with one knuckle.
Nothing.
The other doll, stuck in its track, was as empty as before. I shuddered a bit. “If this place is going to be full of these things...” I wasn't afraid of dolls by any means, but life-sized moving dolls with human features? Anyone would get a bit nervous, I think, considering the circumstances. Liza echoed my sentiment with a sort of half-laugh, hefting her wrench. Dale, on the other hand...
Dale walked up to the doll, unabashedly curious about its construction and movement. I could already see him looking at how to take it apart, look at the bits inside, try to adapt or reverse-engineer it for his own purposes. A few of his little clockworks poked out of a belt pouch, as if they knew they were in the presence of a more complicated and sophisticated version of themselves and wanted to pay respects.
“Captain,” he began.
“We'll get it when we come back this way, Dale. It would be unwise to try to lug around an entire mannequin this whole way when we can pick it up on the way out.” I made a face at the doll, though, for good measure. It was not going to be one of my favourite things we've scavenged, no matter how well-crafted or pretty it might look.
There was a gas lamp system installed around the place, I could see, and I traced the gas lines running down from the ceiling with my eyes. There's no way there would still be any natural gas left in the system... was there?
Liza thought for a moment when I posed this question. “If there is any in th'system left, an' mind you there may not be on account of leakages from th'metal connectors contractin' in th'cold, th'pressure in th'tank would be mighty low, and might be spotty in reachin' us. All depends on where th'central store o'gas is located, Cap'n. Short o'th'whole place bein' filled with gas, shouldn' be a reason not to try lightin' the lamps, I think.” She nodded at one of them in a wall sconce nearby.
“And if the whole place is, indeed, filled with gas?”
“Likeliest all th'gas will be collected up in th'ceiling area. Less dense than normal air, y'see. We'd only have t'be careful if we were throwing fire up there. Nothing would happen, I reckon.”
If we stumbled across the switch for the lamps, I supposed there was no harm in trying it. For now, though, we started forward with lanterns lit. Most of the crew stayed back with the ship, repairing the damages and maintaining the internal stores of fuel, making sure they didn't freeze or boil off too quickly. All in, six of us entered to look for scavenge.
We were armed. I didn't expect to find anyone down in here, what with the inhospitable ice and the lack of navigation and the general drear demeanour of the place, but it was never a good idea to go where you've never been without a few tools to make sure you can get back out. I took stock of the area.
Along the line where the doll was pointing, there was a stripe of contrasting carpet that turned and led to a wooden arch, presumably the drawing room entrance. Directly ahead, a huge staircase curved upward, flanked at the bottom by two huge doors. On the left side of the entryway, there was a series of three doors, and on the right, past the drawing room entry, one door. The stairs seemed to curve back toward the front door, onto a mezzanine.
“The girl is being so hospitable,” I said, and mock-genuflected to the doll, “we may as well take her up on the generosity. Surely there will be something of interest.” I indicated the way with my lamp, and we started down the stripe of carpet. Liza followed me, and then Dale, who seemed to still want to stop everything and marvel at the doll. After Dale came Victoria, then Martha, the stout cook, and finally, Luke, the main lookout. Luke dragged a huge spool of line with him, the end of which was fastened to the handle of the front doors.
I took a few steps forward, the carpet sinking under my boots. I only heard the faint click of a pressure switch by luck, but that is the kind of sound you dread when you are in my line of work.
“Trap!” I said, and tensed, waiting for the floor to give way into a pit of spikes filled with snakes, or for the ceiling to slide open and giant blades to swing down, or for a volley of poisoned arrows to come screaming from the tiny holes in the wall. Everyone ducked and covered their heads.
A slight rumble from the drawing room entrance, like the sound of gears turning out of their grease-and-dust cake, was the only thing that happened. I hazarded a look around the corner into the archway.
Inside, four more dolls, all on the same kind of tracks, stood with their hands folded gently in front of them, bowed at the waist. They all rose upright as I looked at them. One doll gestured inside. I could hear the click-scratching of another phonograph on this one's back.
“Welcome, Visitors. We will take your coats and canes. Please also check any weapons here. We will tag them and keep them safe for you until you leave.” The other three held out their arms, as if to collect items from us, the “visitors.”
I tipped my nonexistent hat at her. “I think we'll refuse the hospitality,” I said, and the others chuckled. Starting over toward the richly-decorated fireplace, I held up my light.
Click. The floor under me depressed only so slightly, and I winced. What parts of this floor were not pressure plates? I heard the clack-clacking of a phonograph beginning to rotate, and the same warbly, uneven voice played from somewhere I could not pinpoint.
“Please check your coats, canes, and weapons with the maid staff. The master will be with you shortly.” A few more seconds, and then, “If you refuse to check your things, the maid staff will assume you are troublemakers, and will call the security staff.”
I hesitated. "Security?" I murmured. "We're not here to cause trouble," I said, knowing full-well that the wooden doll did not, and in fact, could not hear me.
It seemed that while the doll had eyes, a voice, and correct posture, it was not gifted patience by its creator. Without another word, a click sounded by its feet, and we all could hear the turning of great gears. One wall of the drawing room began to draw back, slide to one side.
On the other side of the wall, eight huge automata, heavy wheels on the bottom and large, hook-like arms flanking a body made primarily of a large iron cage, rumbled to life. I could see the winding mechanisms detach from their bases, and the springs and flywheels inside whir into motion.
Oh, come on.
"Is it so difficult to just not trap all your things?" Dale shouted, and the six of us scattered as the machines rolled into the drawing room. They were expertly crafted, the wheels wide and flat so as not to damage the carpet and the sides of the wheel base covered in a thick fabric to not scuff the walls. Even the arms moved gracefully, articulating at several points so that they could avoid damaging the room while still apprehending the troublemakers.
As they rumbled forward, my mind raced. "Liza, any idea
s?"
"Runnin' away sounds like a mighty good one, Cap'n," she replied, and ducked behind a duvet as the first one swung an arm toward her.
Just as she said this, however, I heard the snikt of the metal bars snapping into place. It seemed while we were not looking at the archway and focusing instead on the large robots, the exit closed itself off so that we intruders could not escape.
So much for using the stairs to get away.
"Find a way to take them apart!" I instructed. "If that means little tiny pieces, make it happen!" I scanned the nearest one as well as I could in the limited light, looking for weak points. Joints in the metal, or rivets, or a soldering line on the casing, anything...
Liza grinned. In the rush of adrenaline, Liza was the first to make any decisions, and this was no exception. If you can't run, you want Liza to be on your side and not the other. Hefting her wrench in one hand, she swiveled around one large hook and used that sort of twisting momentum to crash through the casing of the wheels, her gloved hands strong on the heavy tool she wielded.
The Nephele Ship: The Trilogy Collection (A Steampunk Adventure) Page 4