"They reproduce at an alarming rate. It takes perhaps three months for them to grow to maturity, when their breath becomes inflammable. I fear that there may already be too many of them. My observations indicate that these prehistoric creatures may have been the result of the dark arts, or may perhaps come from a world far from our own. Whatever the case, it was an unwise decision to free them from the ice in the north and bring them back into our world.
"They burrow through stone with their claws. This causes stress on the geography of the land, and already I have been informed of several new faults in the topography that have appeared since the first few of them escaped. If they get too far into the west, they will interfere with the Hearthstone Fault, and even I cannot say what catastrophe would occur if that fault were to separate. Even now, I can hear them, deep below. Diana tells me of her thoughts, assures me that she can keep them at bay. I am not so sure.
"If I am to leave Diana, then I will find a way to fix what I have started. Diana is my world, my greatest creation, my only love. I am loathe that she should be let alone in a landscape that would be created this way.
"In the future, my name will either be praised as a saviour, or cursed as the bringer of the downfall of mankind on this planet. My device to create the perfect climate for the whole world must be used to destroy that very climate-- if I am to hold this continent together, I must bathe it in a great, unending winter. Should I fail, and these creatures continue, then there is no hope."
I stared at the pages. Victoria grimaced. Slowly, I closed the book.
"We're not heroes," I mumbled. "We're treasure hunters."
Victoria took a deep breath. "There may be no heroes left if we do not act."
I slammed my hand on the table, coughed from the broken ribs. "I never in my life wanted to be a hero." I stood up. "Boys and girls, we need to go and see the Queen. Victoria informs me that we have to save the world."
I turned the rudder to the west. We were off to save the world.
*****
~Volume Three: The New Capital~
Deep in the frozen badlands, the workshop of the now-forgotten dollmaker Copernicus Wrightworth was flooding, and it was only partially my fault. The rest of the fault lie on the old man himself, though he was long-since gone.
The fool had thought to try to control forces he did not understand, to break the spirits of the creatures he discovered deep in the icy northlands to his will and use them as his own personal tools. Little did he know of what those creatures were, of what they were capable of. Little did he know of their origins, of the full extent of their power, until it was far too late. He tried to stop it, of course, like any right-minded man would, but his temporary solution proved too permanent, and he died not having fixed his mistake.
His house, his living workshop, knew what was happening, but what could she do? She had no influence that far underground. She could only sit and wait, watch and grieve for her creator and the world he tried to save.
If these notes we found in his workshop were anything to go by, if his diary wasn't the ramblings of a man gone mad, then by the time the ice begins to melt, begins to recede, these creatures will have multiplied underground and dug so many tunnels into the very roots of the earth itself that the first major shift in the ground will collapse the entire frozen land into itself, which would radically change the way our world turns in space, and the whole planet would experience such shock to its climates that many of the creatures that live on it, us included, would perish from the earth-backlash. That would be a best-case scenario.
I snapped the old book shut, a puff of dust billowing off of its spine, and tossed it over my shoulder, onto the couch I kept in the captain's quarters for when people of note came to visit. Blast it all, but we were not confounded heroes. We were treasure hunters! Saving the world was something that happens in fairy-tales, to noble princes or savvy knights or great scientists, not to a band of what amount to be scavengers and grave-robbers. Victoria pinched the bridge of her nose between her fingers.
"If we go to New Capitol, we'd get an audience with the crown, and then we'd tell them what we know about the whole thing and let them handle it." I seized my mug of stout off the table and took a big gulp. "The White Hands can sort this thing out. They have scientists and soldiers."
Liza shook her head. "Th'king'll only be lookin' fer his own hide, an' no mistake. He'll never put a batallion o'troops out int'th'ice on a word from some freelancers."
"So we convince him."
"An' how do we do that? With th'notes? Nary a soul will believe there's creatures afoot there. I cannae barely believe it meself," she said, and drank a deep gulp.
This meeting of the crew of the Nephele was admittedly not progressing. I had called it primarily to try to find a way to pass off the whole thing to someone else, to let someone more equipped for this kind of thing take care of the saving the world bit. So far, my plan was failing miserably.
"Okay, so we tell them where the workshop is and give them one of Dale's maps. Tell them there's technology there that could help the kingship, but that there's the high probability of it being lost unless they move now."
Victoria spoke this time. "We're not on good terms with the authorities most of the time. How would we even get into the capitol district in the first place?"
"Disguises? Maybe we pose as a band of merchants," Dale suggested.
"We 'aven't got a bounty on us, so it might fly," added Liza.
Victoria shook her head. "Sneaking into the capitol to gain an audience with the king in disguise would work well enough…until we got to the king and had to tell him who we really were. I am not fond of the idea of getting so far as to be granted an audience, only to be escorted out in chains for lying before the king."
Dale shook his head. "Well, we'll be in port in about a half-hour, so we can decide what our next move will be when we're on solid ground."
I nodded, my eyes fixed on the surface of the liquid in my mug. I watched it shift and sway, distorting the reflections in it strangely. My mind mirrored the frothy beverage, and I wondered what we’d gotten ourselves into.
*****
I'd never really considered the end of the world. The old stories say that the world is supposed to end in a huge war between the gods and the world of men, or that it will end with the Great Frog devouring the sun, or that it will end when the river that carries the souls of the dead to the Pale Land reverses its flow and brings back all those who have died to terrorise the living. Those sorts of stories are so easy to dismiss because they are flights of fancy, ways to explain how the world worked before those who observed it truly understood it. They are relics from another past, from another way of interpreting the world.
But now, staring at the elongated and truncated image of the captain's quarters in my cup, I considered what kind of fairy-tale we'd been cast into. Great fire-breathing monsters were set to destroy the world from the inside, destroying everything from the center, drawing the land itself into its own heart. It seemed like another fairy tale from the end days. What sort of rubbish story is this, I would think, if it were not that my crew and I were the main characters, the so-called heroes in this story.
"Everyone to your posts. We land in port, we do our duties, and then at ten o'clock sharp tonight, not a second later, you all gather at the Copper Cup. We've got some things to discuss." I drained my mug, set it on the table, and pushed my chair back as I stood up. "Consider your opinions on this. We're a crew here, and while I may be the captain, you all are just as integral to my ship as I am. You get a say in what we do, especially when it is something of this magnitude. Go on, then, prepare for docking."
Liza grinned her sooty-cheeked grin, and clapped me on the shoulder as she stood up. "Tha's my cap'n! Three cheers for Cap'n Strallahan!"
I didn't much feel like being cheered for.
*****
We pulled into port, and lashed up the Nephele at our usual dock. Docking fee paid, those with thi
ngs to do off-ship debarked, gathering by the entrance to the docks. A curt nod to one another, and we scattered. I had some places to go, people to see about selling a few items. Normally it was Victoria who did the kind of talking that got us the money we liked to get, but in New Capitol, our contact would only deal with me. I stalked up the main shopping street in central market square, and when I was sure I would not be noticed, I slipped into a narrow alleyway.
Mohr-gh'na, or Morganna, as she tended to like being called, was a big collector of lost artifacts. She fancied herself the last in a line of shamans, some sort of druid tradition that disappeared long ago, which I suppose would explain the unorthodox name. Whatever her strange quirks, the fact of the matter was that she had plenty of money to spend on the things we found during the course of our travels. She ran an antique shop on the main road, which emptied into this alley, and it was in this alley that I rapped on a door and waited.
Several seconds passed, and then a small panel in the door slid open, a pair of old eyes looking out from behind. "Who stands at my door?"
I grinned. "A packrat, looking to trade my things."
The door creaked open, and the woman opened her arms wide, her scraggly hair and fiber-woven tunic making her seem very out of place in the New Capitol's bustle of modern embroidery and brocades. "Ahh, my packrat! What has he brought for me today?" she intoned, and bustled me into the back of her store.
Some hours later, with a significantly fatter purse and a lighter bag, I met the rest of the crew at the Copper Cup, and we took a table.
After the business of money was out of the way, and the barmaid brought us the tray of mugs I ordered, I undid the buttons on my cuffs, and rolled up my sleeves, leaning forward on the table.
"Listen up, ladies and gents. We all know what's at stake here, if, in fact, these notes and the things we saw are actually true and are as bad as they seem. I, personally, don't much care for the idea of suddenly being killed in a huge climate and geo-rotational shift, but I'd be completely complacent to hand this matter over to the proper authorities and let them take care of it. Problem is," I started, before taking a sip for some courage.
"Problem is that we all know how concussively stupid the crown is," finished Victoria.
I nodded. "The Lyre monarchy is notoriously incompetent when it comes to matters outside of any military standpoint. Furthermore, we're not exactly the first people on the monarchy’s list who would be granted an audience, as we discussed before."
Liza tapped on her temple with a finger. "Wha's t'stop us from going to Syao-Rhun?"
She had a point. The neighbouring nation of Syao-Rhun was politically a stronger state than Lyre, but tensions between Lyre and Syao-Rhun ran deep in history, and the workshop was deep in Lyrean lands. If anybody had a claim to it, surely it was the Lyre monarchy.
"The Writ of Gunthe Pass is still in effect. Syao-Rhun aren't allowed within Lyre's borders because the queen's a selfish trollop." Victoria sighed.
"Aye, an' keep yer voice down about it," said Liza. "Ye never know where th'Guard may be hidin'."
"It stands to reason," I continued, "that the king will not grant us an audience, and we cannot bring in help from outside the kingdom. What can we do?"
There was a long silence, before Dale cleared his throat. He took a great gulp of his ale, and shut his eyes hard for a second. "We could tell the Antimony Eyes."
I half-winced at the mention of that band of dignified brigands. It's true; their reach was far and wide, and they had scientists and tinkerers the likes of which nobody could overcome. They would be able to muster a force that would find a way to stop the ice from collapsing, I'd wager. And yet...
Well, they were trying to kill us earlier, and we did crush one of their front ships under tons of ice... Perhaps they would not be the most welcoming of hosts, and understandably so.
Luke shifted in his seat. "I don't know if I have the confidence to say we could do this alone. We're only a few people. We're a hell of a few people, but this is quite a big task here..."
Dale nodded his agreement. "We can hope that the looming threat of the entire planet being damaged is enough for them to at least temporarily forget their grudge." He drank deeply again, then motioned for the barmaid to bring him another. "It's either try with them or try alone, but we must do something, and fast."
I sighed again, ran my fingers through my hair. "Let's see if we can't arrange a time to talk, then." I pulled a little book from my breast pocket, tore out a page, and scribbled a short message on it. When the barmaid came to give Dale his new mug, I put the folded-up slip of paper onto her tray. She nodded knowingly.
Now, all that there was left to do was to wait a bit.
For the moment, we all headed back to the ship; no point in getting a room in the inn when we had plenty of good places to sleep already. As we entered the docks, however, the portmaster, an old man with whom I've had several drinks in my life, came out of his little kiosk to meet us.
"Captain Strallahan! How's the search for a missus coming?" he called, and laughed his hearty, wheezy laugh. I smiled, and gave a wavering thumbs down. "Listen, son," he continued, "seems someone wants you staying in port. The Guard has ordered a port lock on your vessel, to be detained until further notice."
I was perplexed for a moment, then swore to myself. "Well, I suppose we intended to be here a few days anyway," I said, the frustration barely showing in my voice. "We're staying put for now, ladies and gentlemen! Make repairs and preparations as necessary, but don't forget the meeting tomorrow at two!
The crew on board scurried this way and that, and as I went to climb up the stairs to the deck, I noticed a tiny mark left in the railing of my ship. A small, burned-in brand of an eye. A familiar eye.
Antimony. They knew we were here before we even went looking for them, the bastards.
If everything went as it should, then the barmaid would give the note to the innkeeper, who would pass it to the networkers, who would give it to the Eyes. They might even have been opening the note right then. I had two hours before the meeting time I indicated on the note. Resentfully, and with no small amount of doubt as to the efficacy or safety or sanity of this plan, I went to have a shower.
*****
The crew of the Nephele stood behind me. On the other side of the clearing, I saw ten men in fancy jackets and waistcoats waiting. My crew was armed, but openly so, where those men were obviously concealing weapons. I sighed. "We need to talk! Just talk." I pulled my knife from my belt and laid it down on the ground. "No weapons here, just a talk."
One of the men took a step forward. "What in the lady's name could you possibly have to say to us, after you caused our ship to crash into the ice?"
"Actually, I caused the ice to crash into it, but that's not the point--"
The man flicked his wrist, and a tiny knife slid up from his cuff. "Do not pretend like you are in a position to make jokes with me, Strallahan. You destroyed one of my airships, and damaged two others."
I straightened my collar and smiled. "I suppose, then, that I should have just let your ships catch up and blow holes in my own, killing my crew in the process?"
"If you know what's good for you, you'll shut your mouth. We are done here. If I ever see you in this city again, I will kill you, immediately. The only thing stopping me from cutting you all to pieces right now is that it would be a mess to clean up afterwards. Get back in your vessel and get out of my city before I decide the work is worth it." His eyes were narrow and harsh, and I could almost feel his blood pressure rising.
"Easy, fellow. I'm only here because I need your help." I stood straight up, waiting for that to sink in. When he turned back to look at me as though I were daft, Victoria handed the copy of the notes she'd made about the possible apocalypse to me, and I tossed them to the man.
"At your leisure, of course," I added, and waited for him to flip through the book. His eyes grew wider, his brow more furrowed the further he read. I tapped the toe of m
y boot on the ground lazily, making a show of not being worried.
After a few moments, he closed the book, slid it into his jacket pocket. "You are mad. This is false. You are lying. And yet…if you are not lying, then this is a problem, for all of us. We will discuss this matter." With that, he turned, perhaps too dramatically, and the rest of the suited men followed him as he strode down the street. I sighed.
"Turn to the vultures for help with the lions..." I mumbled. "This is ridiculous."
Back at the Nephele, I checked with the portmaster again. "It seems your port lock has been lifted, Captain. You're free to sail now," he said, evidently slightly puzzled at why there was a port lock on a vessel like the Nephele in the first place, let alone that it was lifted in the same day. "Any idea who'd have put that kind of order out?"
I shrugged. I hadn’t a clue.
*****
Two days passed. No word from the Eyes came. We went about the usual activities we would pursue while in port, but everyone knew this was not a time-off sort of stay. This was a "waiting to see if we are going to be forced to save the world alone" kind of stay. On the morning of the third day, I gave up waiting for them.
The Nephele Ship: The Trilogy Collection (A Steampunk Adventure) Page 8