Land of Verne

by David H. Burton

  They all changed quickly, examining themselves in the mirror that automatically adjusted its height to suit the viewer. Grim twisted and turned, trying to see how things fit. The long jacket wasn’t completely hideous and the metallic vest was pretty cool. It came with goggles and some comfortable boots. It even included a leather sash and a belt with some pouches. Rudy’s was almost identical, if not a little more feminine looking.

  He eyed her and she eyed him. Neither made a remark.

  Then the two of them saw to the younger ones. Ellen had a long, black dress with frills that went right up to her neck. It cinched at the waist with a bow.

  “Tighter!” she said.

  Grim yanked on it until the she finally said, “Good.”

  Can she even breathe in that?

  Sam’s outfit was a match for Grim’s. And the twins each had identical loose pants, red suits with leather vests and top hats.

  Out into the morning they strode and Grim searched for their parents. They conversed with Treena’s father again, and pointed towards the same mountains upon which the Manor stood. When they saw the children coming, their conversation ended rather abruptly. Grim hated when adults did that.

  It took less than an hour to pack the entire camp since most of it seemed to get done on its own. Rudy stood well back from the contraptions that folded and packed themselves. Grim and Sam crawled on top of most of them as they were folding up, intrigued with how they worked.

  From what Grim could decipher, the carriages seemed to be powered by absinth, or sinth as most called it. And since the sinth-powered carriages were mostly full, Grim and the others would be riding horses. He didn’t mind. It beat walking, and the horse was wearing goggles.

  It took some time to get comfortable riding the horse since it was something Grim had never done before. And with Sam sitting in the saddle in front of him, it was even more difficult. By the time he felt like he was getting the hang of it, they entered a forest valley that funneled them between two mountain ranges; those of Mount Simeon on the right, where the Manor with the floating cities was situated, and the Hawshorn Mountains on the left. The path was narrow and the forest was heavy with shrubs and underbrush that made the travel all the more challenging. Yet the troupe pressed onwards in the hopes of getting to the other side before nightfall.

  Come early evening, they passed into the shadow of the Hawshorn Mountains and Grim had a suspicion they wouldn’t make it to the other side before they were shrouded in complete darkness. And he didn’t like the feeling he sensed of the forest here either. Something just seemed off.

  He needed a distraction and leaned over to Treena. “So what can you tell me about sinth?” he asked.

  Treena struggled to remain upright. “Can’t talk. Have to focus.” Then she nearly tumbled from the saddle and gripped the reins.

  “You will understand soon enough,” interrupted Aunt Patrice as she rode up beside them. Her hair was dark, almost black, and tied up in a bun. There was a hideous mole on her nose, which was crooked and larger than usual. She still dressed the same, choking collar and all. Grim had been told this was how his Aunt would look while in disguise and as he looked her over, he thought it was a pretty good one. It cut her age in half even though her voice had changed to a high-pitched squealing that made him shudder.

  “Yes, you will learn many things soon enough, my dear.” She eyed Grim with that singular eyeball she was known for, but this time it made Grim feel like his Aunt was sizing him up for the boiling pot rather than studying him. Then the old woman grunted and rode off towards the front of the group. Grim considered sticking his tongue out at her, but thought better of it. The old hag would likely notice.

  Grim adjusted his position in the saddle as Dad studied the mountains to the west of them.

  “We’re not going to see you very often, are we?” Grim asked.

  Dad hesitated as he narrowed his eyes, still staring into the woods. “No. We’ll make arrangements to visit when we can… excuse me,” he said, and spurred his horse to the front of the line.

  Grim tried to catch where Dad was riding to with such urgency when a horn sounded on the air. Grim looked to both Rudy and Treena, and the latter girl’s eyes were like full moons. Her hands paled as she gripped the reins and she looked about in fright. A mechanized squealing echoed through the trees.

  The party scrambled.

  Armed men and women ran up and down the outer rim, searching the forest. Then they gathered at the western edge as an oncoming tide of creatures weaved between the trees and skittered along the ground. Grim strained to see through the gunslingers and archers that blocked his view. He caught fleeting glances of robotic limbs and half-human faces. They each had one arm with a pincer-like hand and another mounted with a huge blaster. Their movements were fluid and quick through the trees and he could hear their legs flex and relax, like coiled springs.

  “Mechs,” Treena breathed. “Slaves of the Syndrone.”

  “Armor!” yelled Treena’s dad.

  The gunslingers pressed a button on their vests. On each of them a suit of armor unfolded and enveloped them. They aimed their blasters.

  Aunt Patrice led the gunslingers and faced the Mechs. The woman was flicking switches on her rod with her thumb while wielding a small blaster in her other hand. She shot off a blast of black gunk that struck one of the Mechs full in the chest. The goo splattered and began to grow, rusting the metal shell of the creature. It spread fast and the Mech dropped to the ground.

  The Gunslingers followed her lead, blasting the same substance into the oncoming horde of metal. More dropped, but then the Mechs gathered and began flipping switches on each other’s backs. When they began to advance again, the tar-like substance bounced off them. They pressed forward in swarms.

  Again, Aunt Patrice pressed buttons and triggers and then shot off another blast; this one a streak of white light that, once it struck, seemed to shock the Mechs. They dropped like stones. And yet again, the creatures tinkered with each other’s gears and were immune to the attacks.

  And then they were upon them.

  Their pincer-like arms clicked and hissed and changed to swords. They clashed with the rifles of the gunslingers and Aunt Patrice’s rod. She flipped a switch and it produced a metal shield to protect her from the parries of the Mechs. And Grim’s mouth dropped open as the old woman fought like she was the most agile of warriors, using a sinth-powered dagger to fight back.

  From the north a shriek sounded, so piercing Grim had to cover his ears. But he could see nothing that caused it. Men started falling under an unseen force that swept through the trees.

  “Goggles!” screamed Treena’s father as he ran in that direction.

  Grim pulled his own over his eyes and gasped as a horde of twisted, lithe monsters with elongated limbs and fanged mouths bounded through the forest. Their claw-like fingers ripped the bark from the trees as they leapt from one to the other.

  “Banshees!” someone screamed.

  The Banshees were upon the archers at the northern flank before the men were ready. They took out four men in a single heart’s beat, leaving them convulsing in pain. The Banshees swiped at anything in their path and Treena’s father shoved past crowds to defend against the onslaught. His bulky sword swung, swift and deliberate. Treena sucked in her breath. Her hands were shaking in panic.

  Grim leaned over. “Don’t worry. The others will help him.”

  Treena looked at him. There was a blank look on her face and then she seemed to focus on Grim. She stopped shaking.

  “Yes, yes!” she said. “Help! I can help him!”

  Treena slid off the horse with care and pulled out a small, round pocket mirror.

  She unfolded it and muttered a single word to it. “Pyra.”

  Something appeared next to Treena, a girl of flaming hair and body. It felt as if Grim stood next to a furnace.

  Treena pointed to her father. The flaming girl nodded and then reappeared next to him. She touched
his sword and it was immediately ablaze. The man paused and looked to his daughter. He smiled and then returned to the fight, his movements even more vigorous than before. The flaming sword cut through the swarm of Banshees and they scrambled from its flaming touch.

  Grim looked around and noticed that more trouble flowed from the south — a horde of dark-robed gunslingers riding towards them. At their rear was a man in a black suit. He pulled out a matching cane and with the flick of a button it changed into an abnormally large sword.

  Grim’s parents led the charge against the man and his minions. They engaged the men with a swift attack and rode through them as if they were nothing more than cardboard cutouts; all but the man with the sword. He stood his ground.

  Grim spurred his horse closer for a better look.

  Poppa’s sword clashed with the man’s. They parried back and forth, Poppa gaining ground on the man at times, losing at others. Dad battled with the other men, disarming them, sometimes two at a time. Grim rode closer, trying to get around the rest of the men and women until he was mere yards from where Poppa battled.

  Pop slid from the saddle, where he parried with the dark-suited man again, his attacks fierce and pointed. They both shot off blasts, ducking and rolling as they fired.

  Although he was considerably shorter, Pop held his own against the man who was beating at his sword with a thunderous clash. Then he slipped and the man with the black sword got the advantage, slicing into his arm. The gash was deep.

  Pop pulled back and Grim rode forward at a lightning pace. Sam clung to the reins in front of him, whispering to the horse. Grim yanked a dagger from the belt of one of the men he rode past and flung it at the black-suited man before he had a chance to strike again. The blade whizzed through the air and hit him, burying itself deep into his arm. He hissed at Grim.

  The man called a retreat to the few men that were left to him and they fled into the hills.

  Poppa remounted his horse and rode back to the battle against the Mechs, ripping part of his shirt and bandaging his arm as he galloped towards the battle.

  Dad approached. “Quickly, back amongst the others! You were lucky you weren’t killed.” He guided Grim and Sam back to an awaiting Rudy and then rode off after Poppa.

  Rudy scowled at him.

  “What?” Grim asked.

  She said nothing, turning her back to him.

  The Mechs continued to flood from the trees. They pressed hard against the Resistance.

  Aunt Patrice was now isolated from the others. The Mechs slashed at her with pinching hands and sword-like arms. Her robes were in tatters. She looked tired and spent.

  The old woman gathered her robes about her. She whipped out the bag she carried with the portal stones, grabbed the yellow one and inserted it into the end of her rod. She thrust it forward and lightning scattered the Mechs before her. The ground exploded about them and they flew into the trees. The Mechs now fled from Aunt Patrice’s wrath, retreating.

  Then from the east, the only direction where no one had yet attacked, a gray-bearded man with a cane trampled down the hill — it was the man who had been at their front door back on Earth. Fifty feet behind him, barreling through the woods, were the cloaked men that had attacked Grim’s home.

  The grey-bearded man faced the creatures behind him and from his blaster shot balls of flame, sending the creatures screaming back up into the mountains.

  A raucous cheer went up among the Resistance. The ambush had failed.

  Many clapped Grim on the shoulder for his bravery and the defeat of the black-suited man — a man called Marveleous Thingrom. Grim smiled quietly and accepted the congratulations with thanks.

  Rudy continued to scowl.

  Treena stepped between them.

  “You’re very brave,” she said. “No one has ever harmed Marveleous Thingrom.”

  Grim shrugged. “You were amazing! How did you do that with your dad’s sword?”

  “It wasn’t me. It was this,” she said and opened the item in her hand. It was a simple mirror inside, but with the reflection of the flaming girl. “I got it from my grandmother.”

  She folded it back up as the Resistance lamented their losses. Almost forty men and women were missing — dragged off in nets by the Mechs. And in the presence of the children, it was not mentioned what the Syndrone would do to those that had been taken. All Grim could make of the situation was that a choice few were selected to track the Mechs to the lair of the Syndrone and find a way to mount a rescue.

  And then the remainder of the Resistance were on the move once more, eager to leave the valley behind.

  When they finally stopped for the night, Grim and the others ran about pushing levers and buttons to unlock the carriages and trailers to set up camp. It took only minutes.

  After that, they helped where they could with the injured. Sam seemed quite apt at knowing what was ailing someone and helped out the apothecaries and physicians. Rudy quickly gravitated to wherever Sam was stationed, studying him.

  Grim rolled his eyes.

  Copycat.

  He waited, wondering what he could do to help, when a young woman was asked to pick mushrooms and berries. Her sinth leg had taken damage and she was limping, so Treena quickly volunteered. Barny and Benny were eager to join. Grim thought it best to keep an eye on them so he followed the twins and Treena through the woods.

  They wound through a deep maze of trees before finding a dimly lit patch where mushrooms grew in abundance. Grim could barely make out what appeared to be little faces etched into their sides. The twins ran about and picked small orange ones and placed them in a sack.

  Grim reached out to pick one of the red ones, and hesitated when the mushroom began to writhe before him. It gave off heat and a foul odor and then he felt a sudden prick on his hand. He retracted his arm and put on his goggles. On top of the mushroom sat a small gnome-like creature. He was pointing a spear at him and shaking his little fist.

  Treena rushed over, her sack dangled over her shoulder, heavy and full.

  “Sorry, I should have told you,” she said. “There’s a little poem my grandmother taught me to remember which ones to pick:

  Mushrooms red ― a gnome’s delight, pick them not or they will fight,

  Mushrooms blue ― do not harass, for they are full of poison gas,

  Mushrooms green are covered in slime, step through them and you’ll lose time,

  All the others are safe to eat, especially orange ― what a treat!”

  “Poison gas?” he asked.

  She nodded. “It will make you sleep for days.” Treena pointed towards one of the spotted kind that was light blue and dappled with darker spots.

  Grim ventured to pick a few of the orange and then backed cautiously away from the entire patch. The twins ran rampant through the lot, but somehow managed to avoid disturbing the blue ones.

  They returned to the camp, where Grim licked his lips. It wasn’t long before dinner was served and Grim was filled to the brim with cooked boar. He passed on the mushrooms, even the orange ones, despite how everyone else raved about how they were the tastiest morsels they’d ever eaten.

  No thanks.

  Naturally Rudy ate as many as she could.

  Not long after that, it was time to retire for the evening. The sun had long set and they would be traveling as soon as it rose once more. Grim didn’t lie awake all night this time and fell asleep almost instantly, dreaming of flying air ships, ray guns, strange faerie creatures with goggles, and an orphanage filled with odd little mushrooms.

  Grim rose to find their dads already waiting for them. They were preparing to depart and had a few last words for them as well as some things they wanted to impart to them.

  The others plunked next to Grim as Poppa reached into a large satchel. To the twins he handed each a watch-like device that they wrapped about their wrists. It didn’t tell the time or date but there were numerous knobs and buttons to keep them occupied for hours. The most interesting thi
ng the device did was project an image of its bearer twenty feet in front of them.

  To Ellen he handed a doll that had a mechanical eye that extruded like a telescope. It had a hole in the back so she could see through the eye of the doll.

  The head was removable.

  Sam received something like an astrolabe. It showed the phases of the moons and planets and projected them into the air for him to study. He giggled with glee.

  Rudy was handed a rod that, among other things, shot a blast of ice pellets depending on which lever you pulled. It also converted to a sword — a big one.

  Grim couldn’t wait to see what he got.

  Then Pop pulled out the last item in the bag…. a small figurine of a woman with an umbrella on a stand. It reminded him of Aunt Patrice.

  And it played a little song.

  Grim just looked at Poppa and said nothing. Rudy had a smirk as she played with her mechanical rod. The twins were rolling on the floor laughing.

  Grim put the stupid thing on the ground in front of him.

  What good was this?

  Then Dad pulled out silver pocket watches. On each was engraved one word: Harland. This, at least, looked much more impressive than the figurine.

  Grim thought maybe he could trade it in and buy something like Rudy’s rod.

  Poppa gave Grim a quick wink before Dad continued. “We’ll miss you all, but we’ll see you again soon. Stay close to each other.” They rose. “We must leave now. We have to go after those that were taken by the Syndrone. We won’t leave them to a fate like that. Aunt Patrice and Master Galan will escort you from here.”

  “Master Galan?” Grim asked.

  Poppa pointed to the man that had arrived at their door. “He warned us that the attack was coming. We owe him our lives.”

  The man noticed and took a deep bow, removing his hat.

  Their Dad whispered to Grim. “Do try and stay out of trouble. Marveleous Thingrom is not a man to be taken lightly. He has a long memory. If he ever learns you’re in the City of Harkness, he will come for you.”