by J M Bannon
28
Thursday the 22nd of August, 1861
9:30 A.M. Haddon Hall, Bakewell, England
The room was lined with mechanist men in various states of construction. The one on the workbench was adapted to include Gerrard’s modifications. This part of Haddon Hall was kept secret. The lab was only known to Giuliani and Dimetri. They kept the gate here and were using the space to replicate Fletcher’s work.
Giuliani was in a lab apron and making the last checks. Earlier he had modified the exteriors of the automatons to Gerrard’s specification. He had the faceplates changed to look like skulls and requested that the armor be augmented.
The first trial was successful from the standpoint that they moved life energy into the mechanist man. The complication being it was too much. The machine animated but had three souls inside that fought for control. Gerrard tried to gain mental control of the subject, but they were too savage from their time in the Necronist device, and he couldn’t subdue the subjects.
In their fight for control, they destroyed the mechanist by ripping into its own chest to tear out his gemulet. He could sense the spirits all fighting each for control of the automaton. In the end those souls were lost when the automaton crushed its own gemulet. That experiment was a failure.
It came to Gerrard late one-night walking in the gardens. He had been on another trip into the aether and had spied upon a tribe of humanlike beings in a primitive village. The instance dislodged some memories from when he was very young and lived in a similar village. He could scarcely recollect, but the alien creatures and their lodgings reminded him of that past life.
Maybe it was Caiaphas mentioning his mother that made him think back to his life before Caiaphas. He remembered how the people had accepted that the metaphysical was everywhere, he remembered the word Loa, the spirits that influenced the material world. He couldn’t quite picture the waterfall, but he could hear it and smell the way the waterfall made the air smell wet and clean. He remembered an old black man telling the story of how that waterfall was where the living and the dead crossed freely. That made him think the answer may be in some primitive ritual. He found answers in a book, “Dr. Melbourne’s Journal of West Indies Pagan Practices and Incantations.” The book was written over one hundred years ago, and only a few copies existed of the esoteric doctor’s work. He had spent time with Papa Caesar and his acolyte Lafayette. The problem was while the book was rich in description Melbourne was not a metaphysicist himself, so there were no procedures or spells.
Gerrard found what he needed in a Grimoire penned by Elric Idred, an Icelandic occultist. An ancient Norse hex to thrall the spirit. He needed to amend the process as Idred’s work enslaved the living; a type of mind/spirit control. This suited Gerrard given his gifts leaned towards telepathic and psionic influence.
The gemulet was designed with the consultation of Professor Giuliani. A more austere construct closer to the designs of Allard’s soul trap, more or less a battery charged by human life. They still needed to regulate the induction of the spirit into the Mechanist man and not put too many lives into one form. This would require Gerrard’s direct intervention.
It was not lost on him how this process or ritual was reminiscent of Shelley’s Frankenstein, the difference being the soul was being put into an artificial body, not creating artificial life.
Gerrard would act as part of the circuit between the Necronist device that held the souls and the metal man that was on the workbench. The equipment was a bizarre mix of Giuliani’s electrochemical contraptions connected to a makeshift theurgy pool made from a washtub.
“I’m ready,” said Gerrard.
He sat on a wooden chair with his bare feet dangling in the tub of water. A conductor from the soul magnet dangled in the water and another conductor went from the tub into a series of cells as Giuliani called them. These were the alchemical fluids that he induced a current through. The circuit was completed with connections to the mechanical man.
Giuliani threw a lever and began to twist a knob. Gerrard heard a dull thrum of the current coursing through the machine then his muscles began to tingle. He knew the current was passing through him. Gerrard closed his eyes and muttered the incantation to project.
He was inside the soul magnet. It was a void, and all about him swirled, the souls stolen from the town in America. As they brushed past he could feel their agony. This purgatory was causing these poor victims to become savage and insane.
His immaterial form floated in the blackness, and dozens of spirits swirled about, “I offer one of you a chance to leave this horrid place,” said Gerrard and with those words, the spirits swarmed on him. He was buffeted about, as the flurry of ghosts flew around him.
“There is a price to pay.”
The activity of the spirits slowed. Gerrard had their attention.
“You are all trapped here in a deathless existence with no chance at escape. I offer you a way out in my service. I will return you to a vessel you can control, but your will is mine to command. You will be my thrall.”
He held out his hand and began Ildred's soul enslavement curse. As he uttered the words one of the spirits flew towards him and into his open palm. He felt it course through him and the soul bind to his in the process, he had flashes of the frontier trapper’s life flicker by his mind’s eye.
Once he knew the soul had passed through him, he snapped back to the workshop in Haddon Hall. He was nauseous and in a cold sweat. He looked to Giuliani who was running from device to device making adjustments.
Gerrard’s eyes went to the mechanist man.
A sly smile crossed his face as the Mechanist’s metal form flexed its muscles and raised up on its elbows. A ruby glow filled the once lifeless eyes of the mechanist man. The first of his army had been brought to life.
“It was a success!” he yelled.
Giuliani looked up “My God, you’re a genius, the automaton lives!”
Gerrard projected his thoughts. The metal man got off the table and moved towards one of the other automatons. It picked it up and placed it over to the table he had just been on.
“Professor, we have much work to do. Every one of these empty shells will become a soldier in my army,” ordered Gerrard.
* * *
10:00 P.M Haddon Hall, Bakewell, England
Gerrard snapped back to Haddon Hall from the void of the soul magnet. For the last twelve hours, he had gone in and out of the soul magnet to bind the citizens of Harpsichord to his will. For their allegiance, they were released and given a mechanist man. With each binding, Gerrard’s powers were tested. He was exhausted from the rigors of the ritual and the additional concentration he needed to mentally manage his growing troop.
Gerrard was exhausted. He let out a deep breath and slumped in the chair, he first noticed how sore his body was then his perspective changed. With his guardsmen complete, sixty-four in total his perception had drastically changed. He now felt the presence of all those bound to him and could move his perception from thrall to thrall. Was this what it was like for Caiaphas? The room and outer hall were full of his men conducting the tasks he had left them with.
He stepped out of the pool and couldn’t stand, his feet were swollen and blistered from so many hours in the theurgy pool.
“Here let me help,” said the woman.
It took Gerrard a moment to recognize that it was the Countess. She knelt down and toweled off his feet.
Gerrard winced as she dried the puckered skin.
“I’m proud of what you have accomplished here. While you have solved the problem of your protection, I still have an issue that I thought would be resolved with us having access to the original mechanist man.” The Countess projected her needs into Gerrard’s mind.
He smiled at her.
She smiled back, “Then we are ready to begin.”
29
Friday the 30th of August, 1861
8:20 P.M. The Alchemist Guild House, Hauslau, Silesia
&n
bsp; Elmore, Azul, Baron von Traube, Lord Gilchrist and a bunch of other European well to do’s stood over Preston Gilchrist. Preston lay on a table in the middle of the Guild hall with a lily on his chest, and his hands crossed over the flower. He was invited as all the male wedding guests were to this Buck’s Night. He was having a good time and had enjoyed the trip to Prussia.
“This was a terrible idea,” said Baron von Traube, hovering over Preston Gilchrist’s prone body, “My daughter will have all our hides if we have ruined her day tomorrow.”
“He will be a calamity on what is to be the best day of his life,” said Elmore looking down at the groom. He swished a brown liquor around in his glass then looked at Azul, “Dr. Lorelei will pull you apart and sell you for scrap.”
“Gentleman, I swore an oath to Preston that I would throw for him the most spectacular Buck’s Night ever seen and that I would get him to the altar. Right now, those two commitments may seem in conflict, but rest assured tonight and tomorrow will be etched into your memory,” said Azul.
Azul was happy he had some time with Preston earlier today to discuss his travels. He had been abroad to gather insight into Caiaphas and his true nature. He was able to reconnect with his old brotherhood in Constantinople, but they were unable to help. Azul then sought out a few mystical societies that he thought might help, again he came to a dead end. The Vizier was able to get his hands on several tomes and grimoires he felt could help. He had them shipped to his townhouse in London. When he returned, he would begin his research. He did find one book on eastern mysticism that referenced the ebony obelisk, an object that sounded like the emerald tablet. Azul had run out of time and finally made his way to Prussia for the wedding of the season. Here his duties were simpler; keep these men from getting Preston any drunker and more importantly to get the groom to the church on time.
The Bride Groom was passed out in the center of the great hall of the Guild House in the village of Hauslau. A private party to celebrate Preston’s last night as a bachelor was hosted by Azul and the Baron. It was decided to have his Buck’s Night celebration the night before the wedding, so more friends and family could attend.
Dinner had not yet been served, and many of the guests were still showing up, but Preston was already passed out. He had fallen quickly to a scheme cooked up by the group, all asking to celebrate with him by having a shot of schnapps. Preston succumbed quickly to the onslaught of all the guests coming to him with a shot, never knowing they had all coordinated coming up to him one by one every ten minutes, the liquor overcame him an hour into the celebration. All laughed when Dolly placed the lily on Preston’s chest as if he belonged in a funeral parlour.
The hall was grand, and one of the most prominent buildings in Hauslau, not because Hauslau had a large Alchemist Guild it just happened to be the village Traube and his brothers grew up in, and they all wanted a building they could be proud of. It was a glorified boy’s clubhouse, a place to get away and play, and boy were they going to play tonight.
Elmore swayed side to side in an attempt to move to the music of the band, but it looked more like a drunkard trying to not fall over.
“That airship is mighty spectacular. I was impressed with the Peregrine when I got a chance to ride in it, but yours has to be bigger than anything owned privately,” said Elmore to the Baron.
The Baron pulled Elmore in close with a big hug spilling beer from his mug in the process, “I hear Junius Morgan is building a private airship that will exceed the length and tonnage of the Esperance. I doubt it will be as nicely appointed as her, but we will see. Here is a secret Mr. Cowboy, I have arranged for the couple to take the Esperance on their honeymoon and I plan to give them the airship and build a new one. What do you think of that?”
“That’s mighty generous, if you and your crew haven’t killed him by poisoning his liver with schnapps,” said Elmore.
“The boy is weak in constitution from his ailments. He will be fine after he sleeps this off,” said Lord Gilchrist.
“I would like all the guests to gather about,” announced Azul.
The revelers continued along with the music drowning out his calls.
Elmore pulled his revolver and fired it into the ceiling. The whole room when hush, “Mr. Azul needs all your attention!’ shouted Elmore.
Azul gave him a look, “Well none of us will be tangling with you, Marshal.”
The crowd laughed.
Azul stepped up onto one of the benches. “Gentleman, if I may have your attention. Tonight, you will all become believers in the impossible. While some of you know Preston and I are very close, too close at one point —” Azul paused for effect and got the laughter he expected. “You see I tricked Preston many years ago in an attempt to escape from a dismal situation I was in. He and I shared his physical body. Now you may find that fanciful, but then you are right now listening to a mechanical man powered by an ancient spirit. So, you decide what might be fancy. Now for those of you that are still closed minded to what you see before you or the tale I tell, I have planned a spectacle that will forever ruin your chances of being shocked by the activities of a men’s club inner sanctum. For what you all are about to see tonight will need to go to your graves with you for the sanctity of Mr. Gilchrist’s marriage and all of our reputations—”
“All Preston will be up to is wetting his britches!” yelled one of the men.
The crowd cheered.
“Now Gentleman, those of you that know me, know that I am by far the oldest in this room and have seen all types of fantastic oddities. You also may remember I was just on a trip to faraway lands. This was for business and to do research, but these travels also afforded me the opportunity to assure the most exotic entertainment ever known by a gentleman in these parts.”
The crowd cheered again.
“Flying in from the four corners of the globe, allow me introduce Fatima, the mistress of the seven veils. Azul threw his arm towards the stage where the band was set up, and they began a German polka bands’ best rendition of a middle eastern tune. The men could not care less as a lithe figure in silky veils of lavender came out onto the stage and began dancing. The crowd went wild.
Azul stepped down from the bench and joined the Baron and Lord Gilchrist who were staring at the stage. “Gentleman, I do hope none of you have heart conditions, as Fatima will be the milder of tonight's entertainment. I have lined up Madam Foucault, the burlesque queen of Paris, Mei Ling, the oriental contortionist and finally the Mistress of serpents,” Azul warned. He was quite sure that he was about to recalibrate the minds of these men as to what the words erotic and exotic meant.
30
Saturday the 31st of August, 1861
10:00 A.M. The Chapel at Castle Traube, Silesia, Prussia
Elmore was dressed like an English gentleman in a morning coat with tails. He sat alone in the pew of the Traube family chapel. His head throbbed, and he felt as if he had one foot in the grave. He had drunk too much, mixed his liquor and topped it all off with strong cigars.
At the front of the church stood Preston and Azul. Azul was made of metal and wire and didn’t drink, so he looked as he always did. Preston actually looked well. Passing out an hour into his bachelor party provided him twelve hours of sleep. As Elmore surveyed the crowd, there were quite a few fellows who looked like he felt. He also was observant enough to know that a few folks who attended last night’s festivities were missing altogether.
The music began as the minister approached the altar.
At the rear of the church, the doors opened, music began to play, and the crowd stood up. The Maid of Honor began walking down the aisle. It was Rose, and she was the most beautiful creature he had ever seen. Her short black hair had flowers woven in, and the French couture dress she wore, a vision of blue embroidered silk, fit for a Princess in a royal court. He couldn’t believe his eyes, that Rose Caldwell the White Witch of London was all done up in in a bride’s maid dress. He didn’t care what she wore, but the fitted bod
ice and bustle skirt made his heart flutter. He knew he was right where he was supposed to be.
When invited he was hesitant. He felt it was more obligation for him hosting them in America and being around while the nuptials were announced. He had an urge to get back to America and see how he could help with the hostilities. While he wasn’t eager to shoot his countrymen, he didn’t want to see the country fall apart either. Rose was never straight with an answer about the them coming here as a couple, nor did he straight out ask her. Rose was complicated, then add that she was lived in England and had people all over the world asking for her help. He knew better than anyone that affection for others made for complications when you had the responsibility to the public like she and he had.
An elbow went into his rib, “Ya might want to shut your gob and give her a smile,” said Dolly who slipped in next to him.
“What?” fumbled Elmore.
“I see the way you look at her. I saw it in Harpsichord. Of course, to see her now like that, she is quite fetching. I’d expect given this crowd she will have several suitors after her, Dukes, Captains, Alchemists, all types of Kraut Society,” said Dolly.
“Where were you last night?” asked Elmore.
“Oh, I was there. I came right after I landed and arrived towards the end of the contortionist act. I’m torn about seeing that lady, never will leave my mind and I’m not sure if that is good or bad,” said Dolly.
“Should you be having those thoughts in church?” asked Elmore.