Goggles, Gears, and Gremlins (SteamGoth Anthology Book 3)

by Jonathan Baird

  “Owen!” Cried Qen behind him. Owen turned to look to see more sentinel servers and Pit guards coming from the opposite direction.

  “Crap! What do we do?” he asked, “You have a plan!?”

  “Uhh…” Qen looked around, “I got it, just stick by me, stay close!” he shouted over the loud noise of gunfire. The guard tossed away the corpse-shield and brought up his bolt-action rifle, firing off a single shot, which chipped away at the boulder. Owen swallowed nervously as Qen jumped up and started running, shooting a sentinel server and felling it, a wisp of dust escaping from the hole in its masked face. Owen raced behind him. He fired off a few random shots at the guard he was previously attacking and managed to take down the other zombie soldier. He found himself falling down a hole out of nowhere, and the light got dimmer above him. He was sliding down some sort of rock chute in a fast-moving stream, and then suddenly he was in thin air. One of the immense pendulums swung before him, nearly decapitating him though he had enough time to react by pulling his head back before the guards below opened fire with their rifles. The duo found themselves entering another chute by pounding through a wall of falling water on the opposite side of the pendulum corridor, the water here carried them ever deeper into the complex, and then Owen was falling, and then without warning, submerged within water. He surfaced, and the dwelf grabbed him by the arm, the little creature surprisingly strong for something his size, and the human was pulled out onto some eerily warm cobblestones.

  “Where is this?” Owen asked.

  “Farther down than where we were. Now, we need to find the exit” he said, leading the two of them into a long tunnel of gray and black stone bricks covered in thick, leafy bright green and yellow vines, some of them glowing and giving off a dim light. “This is part of an ancient city, a relic.” he smiled, turning to him, “Let’s get a move on there, Owen. We can only escape if we ourselves make the push now let’s go!” He pulled out his survival knife and hacked away at the undergrowth. Owen sighed, pulling the clockwork sword from his belt and extended the blade, and began to cut away at the vines and bushes as well.

  * * *

  The opening to the Pit itself was a vast perfect cylinder of dirt and stone. Ladders and walkways crisscrossed the entirety of the hole like a spider’s web, and the desert sun burned down on them, draining their life away. The guards here of both Embrush and the Pit itself were more lightly armored, some in mere clothes, some without shirts. A freight elevator flew from the bottommost layers to the middle of the structure, stopping at a catwalk of weathered iron and slowly opened with a vat of steam out of its miniature chimney. Inralu stepped out, grabbing onto the railing of the catwalk tightly and overlooking the immense structure and all the present events that had been going on. A dropship had just engaged its landing gear and touched down on a drop pad some layers down and a chain-gang was being escorted out by two guardsmen of Cliffwater.

  A dark hand landed upon the railing beside his and Inralu looked up to see the face of Nassir, who was still in his elegant white robes. He looked a bit troubled as well.

  “Two of Seth’s men have informed us that there are two escaped convicts in the lower levels of the prison. Your zombie soldiers proved to be no match for them.” Inralu coughed, looking down into the blackness that was the bottom of the pit.

  “Yes, well, they’re technically not mine, and they do work, but only in hordes. I doubt that the narrow tunnels would be a fitting field of battle for them. Have you come to request some of my breathing troops?”

  “No, I was just wondering why you enlist dead things into your military.”

  “Well, they’re meant to be a prod to test the enemy, they’re expendable really…” He ran his hands through his jet black hair, feeling the awkwardness arise. Nassir did not leave, and simply smiled. “Yes, Nassir?”

  “The pit guardian has their scent, captain. It will find them wherever they are, whichever nook or cranny they are hiding in, and it will exterminate them.”

  “Should they not just be contained and brought back to their cells?” He asked.

  “No, they should be exterminated because they are armed. You should really listen more. The guardian is similar to your sentinels. It, like them, was living in its past life, or at least, it never really officially died. That will be all, captain.” Nassir did not say another word, he simply walked off, and Inralu watched him as he boarded the elevator before it began its descent into the depths.

  * * *

  Qen climbed the cap of the giant mushroom and snatched up a vine hanging down the stone wall, sweat beading his youthful forehead. Owen was right behind him, his lack of shape beginning to show. He grabbed the vine and began to climb up after the dwelf, sweating, his chest rising up and down in exhaustion. They had been walking through the ruins for what seemed like ages. At least two hours had passed them by.

  “Stop.” Qen ordered, lifting an ear. Owen knew better than to breathe at a time like this. Qen then uttered in a quiet voice, “We’re being followed… hurry up, whatever that is happens to be big, and fast.” The dwelf started climbing again mid-sentence and the duo clambered into a cave along the cliff face.

  The tunnel here was dark, until Qen brought up a lighter and ignited a torch.

  “This way, it’s still back there…”

  “Righto…” The human stammered. They made it to the bottom of a pit that extended far up into the ceiling. “Great, now where the hell are we supposed to go??”

  “Don’t complain, humie.” Qen smiled, walking over to a hole in the wall and reached in, “Give me a moment.” After a minute, the dwelf beamed as his fingers made purchase and a loud click echoed from the hole. An even louder one echoed from the far-up ceiling, and the bricks in the rock rapidly extended from the walls around them, the bricks grinding along with machinery, being pushed outward to form a set of stairs.

  “Is this our way up?” He asked.

  “Aye, looks like it.” Qen started walking up. Owen hesitated for a brief moment, then followed. “That thing is still back there, so we’d best hurry.” The dwelf said, “pick it up.”

  “What?”

  “The pace, human…” Qen was being completely serious. They made it about three quarters of the way up, the floor barely visible when a loud boom sounded. “Gods…” Qen’s eyes went wide, “It’s one of those things…”

  “One of what things?” The man looked down to see, in horror, that the stairs began to pull back into the walls. And they were being ripped back into place rather fast. Owen turned his terrified eyes back to the dwelf, but Qen was already climbing the stairs again. “Wait! Qen!!” Owen shouted, rushing up after him. Flop flop flop flop flop came the sounds of the rapidly-approaching demise that awaited him. Flop flop flop flop flop flop flop. Owen felt the stone turn into air beneath his feet and he fell, smashing his jaw against the wall, but did not seem to fall to his death. He looked up to see Qen peering down at him. The dwelf pulled him up onto the ledge, and he lay there, his jaw bleeding.

  “You can get that fixed later. We need to get out now.” Owen stood slowly to his feet. The two of them started off as fast as they could, Owen was limping, his legs hurt, but he had to keep going.

  “Can we not rest for a moment?” He begged.

  “No, do you want to die here, Owen?”

  “N-no…”

  “Then we run!” And they ran down a hall into a door, which slid open. Before them was a long catwalk in one of the hottest rooms Owen had ever been in. “Lava.” Qen said, with an ear twitch. They started along the catwalk, one foot in front of the other. And crossbow bolts began firing from the walls, from right to left and left to right.

  “Are we going to die?”

  “Only if you desire that fate.” Qen did a cartwheel, the bolts flowing around him like water, and he was at the other end, waving like a jerk. Owen swallowed and started down, taking a break between each launch of the bolts, and found himself, eyes closed, on solid earth. “You can open your eye
s now, hume.” Owen opened one eye, then the other, and Qen was already entering the next door. They were in an ancient elevator, old runes written upon the walls.

  “What do they say?” Owen asked, his breathing heavy, “Are we nearing the exit?”

  “They say-” a ding sounded, the floor dropped from under them and they fell screaming into another pit of water up to their waists, “goodbye.” Owen angrily sloshed to the door that was nearly covered in shadow by the black rock of the chamber, and stepped through into a long hallway of red bricks.

  “What the hell is this…?”

  “The labyrinth. A maze…” he started forwards, his hand planted upon the right wall.

  “I am getting sick of these games, dwelf.”

  “I am getting sick of your complaints, human. This is the mechanism for you anyways.” His ear twitched and then perked up, “We’re not alone. Damn, let’s run, shall we?”

  “What why?” A roar that sounded like that of a giant feline came from behind them.

  They turned a corner, the beast following, snarling madly. They could not see it, but they knew it was there. Owen shouted over the madness, “What’s it bloody want!?”

  “It was designed to kill prisoners a long time ago. We’re right under the embassy now.” Owen tossed his weapon behind him and turned to run after Qen when a gigantic spear-tip of chrome landed into the brick wall just by Qen’s head, embedding itself in the stone and got stuck. Qen rolled under and fluidly continued running, not even the least bit out of breath. Just as it started to pull it out, Owen was able to see their pursuer. It was humanoid, but at the same time it was not. A long brass tail ending in a chrome stinger swung wildly behind it. The brick wall burst apart, and a great minotaur stood there, also covered in brass and steel plates, half of it even skeletal. The feline turned and jumped at it, screeching. Dust obscured the scrap.

  “We should go…” Owen suggested, but Qen was way ahead of him, and they found themselves at a heavy oak door at the opposite end of the maze.

  “I love being able to use echolocation sometimes.”

  “Did you evolve from bats?” Owen asked him, puzzled. Qen shook his head and wiggled his ears as he bounded through the wooden door.

  * * *

  The next chamber was immense, and Owen could not make out a floor or ceiling, it was just nothing but a stone bridge leading toward a beam in the center upon a pedestal. The creature from before stepped into the room behind them, its bionic humanoid shape getting down on all fours and slowly advanced. Two green eyes glowed in the shadow.

  “The Pit guardian…” Qen stepped into the beam of light and a warm glow engulfed him, and he was gone. Owen looked back at the monster in surprise, which was already soaring through the air. Before he could get to the light, the creature had run through his leg with its blade-like paw. His hands shaking like a quake, Owen snatched the clockwork hilt from his belt, and let the blade snap out. He felt pain throb in his already wounded leg. His jaw bled, he was tired and had a headache.

  Owen looked back to see a human skull covered in iron and brass plates covered in dust and blood with hundreds of tiny shimmering cogs turning beneath this synthetic flesh. It screeched an inhuman howl into his face and Owen felt tears well up in his eyes and he brought up the sword. It brought down its human jaws, its canines elongated with steel fangs, upon Owen’s skull. Owen cried out as he felt the needles spear into his skin but before they could pierce the bone, he thrust the blade of his sword into its leg. It jumped back, howling in pain and paced in a circle around him like a jungle cat.

  Owen stood, sweating and panting, the long handle of the sword in both his shivering, wet hands, watching this thing pace, and it jumped at him like a lightning bolt. He cut off its leg this time, the many razor-sharp tiny diamond-like teeth ripping through both bone and metal and the machine limb clattered upon the stone and flopped a few times before it stopped moving. The beast was even angrier now. It stared at him, anger fuming in its emotionless eyes.

  “What the hell are you?” he asked, his voice quivering in fear. The thing had to have been a human, or at least humanoid in its past life. It growled again, its chrome fangs gleaming in the light of the beam. Watching it pace on its three remaining limbs was a horrific thing to view. The stump where he had removed its fourth leg and arm revealed an exposed human shoulder blade, the bone covered in all sorts of strange wires and tubes carrying synthetic lifeblood fluids around its corpse-like body. The low purr of the beast transformed into an otherworldly screech, and the monster pounced once again.

  He swung the sword a final time, in a mighty overhead arc and its human skull fell from its brazen shoulders, the body flying off the edge into darkness and the head smashing upon the ground. He sighed, sheathing the blade and clipping it to his belt and kneeled down to pick up the mechanical skull. The eyes flickered out and the cogs, most of them smashed, ceased to churn. A few plates fell off on contact with the ground. The thing snapped its jaws one final time before shutting down, and Owen tossed the automaton head down the hole, before stepping into the light.

  The embassy was built out of marble, mighty tapestries were hanging upon the walls, displaying ancient battles being fought by Embrush warriors and heroes long since dead and lost to the centuries. Pillars held up the foundation, and the red carpet laid out upon the floor was clean and perfect. The aroma of roses and cherries filled the chamber, and before it all was the flag of the Embrush. Owen collapsed onto the floor, flying from the wall itself and sucked in as much air into himself as his lungs would allow. He sprawled out and lay there for a minute before finally decided to pick his half-dead corpse up. His clothes were now wet, covered in ash and dust and blood. His wounded leg refused to move at first, but soon it budged, holding up his weight painfully and he climbed up a desk of red wood to support himself. Sweating and panting, he looked around the room. A gleam in his peripheral vision brought his attention to the left to see a suit of armor. A knight! He was dead. No, no. He looked again, and let out a breath of relief. It was only a suit of armor.

  “Owen!” Owen looked over to see a transparent Qen, a tiny artifact glowing with a golden aura about it floating between his outstretched hands. Owen raised both his eyebrows.

  He flopped forwards, and called out to him, some spit escaping his bleeding mouth, “Qen! When.. What are you doing?”

  “I did not think you would make it. I thought you were right behind me at first.”

  “The guardian grabbed me… I defeated it… You were right.” He breathed heavily, “The clockwork sword did come in handy…”

  “I am glad. I cannot help you escape from here, but you are close to the exit.”

  “I… am?” he couldn’t breathe. He just wanted to sleep. He couldn’t die here, he refused. He was so light-headed. “You were going to take me with you I thought…”

  “Humans are so dumb, so slow. Maybe you could have if you were fast enough. I am in the void between timelines. I don’t have much time now.” Owen limped over, picking up a spear from a display to use as a support. He tried to grab the dwelf, but his hand went through him. “As I said, it’s too late.”

  “Is all elf-kind racist biggots in your time, Qen?” Qen smiled.

  “Not really… Look, you will find a way out of here, and you will find a way to pay for your crimes. I assure you of this.” His voice trailed off, and he was gone. Owen was alone in the embassy.

  Footsteps echoed around the room. “You there!” A voice called behind him. His vision swimming, Owen turned to see a scarred-faced man in a dress uniform trailing a velvet red cloak, two Embrush soldiers flanked him, carrying rifles. Owen smiled awkwardly at them. “State your name, why are you here!?”

  “That is the prisoner, captain!” One of the guardsmen cried, aiming his rifle. Owen dropped the spear, diving behind the desk as the rifle cracked out a shot. The shot split the spear in twain, showering the escaped prisoner with wooden splinters. He opened his eyes to see a flintlock pistol
and a bag of shot. Smoke filled the room as they opened fire, the captain just stood there in impatient waiting.

  Owen picked up the end half of the spear, reaching out and trying to grab the flintlock on the ground. One of the soldiers managed to hit it, and it was flung up into the air and landed farther away.

  “Stop!” Cried a voice. Nassir stepped into the room, his robes flowing behind him. “What is going on here, captain?” He asked, folding his hands together. The captain growled.

  “We have cornered the rat who escaped earlier, or at least one of them. Looks like your beastie failed, Nassir…” Nassir smirked slyly.

  “I wouldn’t say that… Bring him to my chamber. I will have everything prepared.” Inralu sighed, tired of this.

  “How can we catch such a slippery thing?”

  “He’s cornered!” Nassir called as he walked out of the room, not bothering to even face them.

  “Qen, where’d you go?” Owen panted, in near tears. He did deserve his fate in here. That was true. He was not wrongfully accused or anything. The man sat back in silence. Silence, the guns had stopped. He peeked out from behind the desk to see not a single soul. As he crept out, he heard the sound of a boot stepping on wood chips, and turned, grabbing the hilt of the clockwork sword while it was still hooked to his belt and activated the blade. The blade mechanism snapped out, entering the stomach cavity of the Embrushian soldier. He ripped the sword off his belt and stood, face-to-face with the scarred man.

  “You have insulted me for the last time.” The scarred man spat. Owen insulted him? It was all Qen’s doing. Owen was innocent. He had done nothing to him. “Running about like a bloody cockroach through this facility. Drop your damn weapon!” He barked with the ferocity of a mad wolf. Owen looked down at the sword. It’s not hard to swing. A second gun barrel arrived at his head, and he swung the blade to the left, cutting across the chest of the other soldier. He looked over to see the captain, a flintlock pistol in hand. He had primed it, and the thing cracked off a shot. The tiny rock whipped through the air, barely missing Owen’s arm. It pounded into the blade of the sword, forcing it out of his grip. “Do you have any other surprises, roach!?” Inralu asked. Owen bolted, taking halls and doors at random, running opposite every time he ran into another living person. He opened a large bulkhead and felt warm air rush into him, and stepped out onto a grated iron bridge extending high over the darkness of the pit. A bright blue sky was overhead. The exit of the pit!! Owen stared in wonder, looking around for a ladder to climb out into the desert. He felt something connect with his skull and he fell unconscious.