Aetheric Elements: The Rise of a Steampunk Reality

by Travis I. Sivart

  A midnight train rumbled across the landscape, chased by the moon. Elizabeth stared out the window, watching the shadow of the train dip and leap between the rolling hills under the light the lunar spectator. A fog had gathered, making the details of the countryside blur and distort. Tendrils of wisp explored valleys in slow movements. The chill from outside crept through the windows and doors of the car, making the woman draw her shawl closer. Her lace collar and cuffs did little to protect her, but the thick layers of her purple dress insulated her well. Her bustle made it difficult to sit in comfort, unlike Zachary, who even in his rust colored leather jerkin and with a sword on his side slept in the seat across from her. Elizabeth tucked a stray brown curl back into her bun and turned to look at her other traveling companion, Suykimo.

  Suykimo sat upright and cross-legged, his almond shaped sea green eyes intense, reading a small book. It was a mystery, she knew because that was his preferred genre when he wasn’t engrossed in a tome about politics, psychology, or religion. His midnight blue coat, which resembled a robe with gold needlework, pooled around his legs. He glanced up, and smiled, ran a hand across his shaved head and returned to his story. Suykimo always knew when someone was watching him, which was often due to his exotic appearance and Aeifain heritage.

  They traveled to the capital of the island country in which Elizabeth had been born, New Gallia. Bolton was a grand city, and she had attended university there, studying social interactions and excelling. Suykimo had insisted they return here after being contacted about a mysterious archeological dig by Duke Crillington of Shirewood. The man had heard of the trio and their adventures. Suykimo had insisted upon coming, though they had heard of a village they had visited and rid of a werewolf was now experiencing another problem of townsfolk being killed. Elizabeth had contacted her university friend, Amarilly, to investigate the town.

  Elizabeth dozed off thinking about her friend and the trouble she may be facing. She woke as the train came to a sudden halt. Sitting up, she blinked and looked around. They had arrived in Bolton. Zachary was awake and gathering their luggage from the overhead racks, passing each of them their bags. The few passengers milled about, doing the same. They filed out into the damp morning air. The sun wouldn’t rise for another hour.

  A coachman waited for them with a motorized coach. The three were shuffled inside the vehicle and set out for Duke Crillington’s estate, Shirewood. They arrived as the dawn broke over the rolling hills to the east. Zachary exited first, looking to each side and glancing at the roof, searching for threats without realizing what he was doing. Suykimo, his long coat immaculate, glided down the step and onto the gravel next, appearing refreshed though he hadn’t slept at all. Elizabeth accepted the coachman’s hand as she stepped down and stumbled as she did. She patted her hair, which had a dozen stray strands, and smoothed her gown. She didn’t know how the men managed to always look ready to go, when she needed time to freshen up.

  The household staff stood outside to greet them, headed up by the chief butler. He led the way inside as other servants gathered their few pieces of luggage. The servant left after showing them to the library, a large two story room with books from floor to ceiling, various settees, divans, chairs on one side, and a large oak desk on the other. The curtains had been drawn back, the shutters opened, and a small fire set in the fireplace to take the chill from the air.

  The Duke swept into the room, his chubby cheeks rosy, and his clothes pressed and starched. He smelled of roses Elizabeth noted - unusual for a gentleman - as he shook each of their hands. A footman entered and served tea as they settled into seats, though Zachary remained standing.

  “Thank you for coming,” Duke Crillington began, “I am not sure if you have heard about Professor Walter’s recent discovery and excitement here in Bolton.”

  “Professor of antiquities and sociology, Titalus Walters, of the University of Bolton?” Elizabeth asked.

  “Yes, the very one. Do you know him?”

  “Yes. Well, no.” Elizabeth floundered. “I remember him from my time at the university. Always a gentleman, so kind and smart. And a handsome fellow.” She trailed off, blushing.

  “I do not know him personally, only what you sent in your letter, Your Grace,” Suykimo said, his voice a quiet tenor, “but I am sure you will suitably enlighten us.”

  “Indeed, good sir, I shall. He is a close, personal friend, and during an undertaking to make an underground railway, it seems we have discovered some sort of ancient tomb that has been buried under the streets of our capital city for hundreds of years. We do not recognize the craftsmanship nor the hieroglyphs that adorn the chamber.” The Duke paused, sipping at his tea, giving his listeners a chance to ask questions, and show the appropriate expressions of surprise and wonder. When he received neither, he continued, ruffled.

  “When my men began excavating the area there was a mishap. It seems a gas escaped. I have heard of crypts being sealed so tightly that they did this when opened, but we hadn’t opened this one yet.” The Duke paused again, waiting for some response.

  “And what did this gas do?” Suykimo asked, his voice so low that the nobleman had to lean forward to hear him.

  “Well sir, it drove the workmen mad! A dozen men are all dead, most slaughtered each other, and the couple that didn’t…” Duke Crillington paused again, looking at Elizabeth. “Perhaps the lady would not want to hear this. It may upset her delicate nature.”

  “Her nature may not be as delicate as you think,” Zachary said, his tone brusque. “She has seen things most men have not imagined in their worst nightmares.”

  “Now Zachary,” Elizabeth said with a smile as she rose, “I will excuse myself to freshen up, for his Lordship’s comfort if nothing else. If you gentlemen will pardon me.”

  The men stood with her and a maid appeared to escort her to the powder room. Elizabeth was glad to escape for a few minutes. Her hair was in shambles and her bustle had shifted to the left on the train. As she followed the maid, she thought of the dashing man she remembered from the university, Professor Titalus Walters. He was a bit of a rebel, and encouraged women to speak their mind, and even marched in a women’s suffrage protest, helping to bring about the changes in society that had altered the world over the past half dozen years. He was also an adventurer, traveling to exotic places like Aeifa, Drungia, and even North Mirron during their war to help the Dasism negotiate peace between the Federation and Empire. She admired a man that could keep his wits about him in any situation. She had to admit to herself that she once had a bit of a crush on him, and even now felt a bit flustered.

  Suykimo sat as Elizabeth departed, but the Duke remained standing, and began pacing as he continued with the tale.

  “You see, these men were disturbed. They tore their own flesh from their faces, arms, and anywhere else they could reach. We had to restrain them. Only one survived the night, but even he succumbed to the terrors of his mind soon afterwards. We learned little from him before he passed, but he claimed horrors were rising up.” The Duke issued a strangled noise that was a strained laugh. “Of course, this is all nonsense. The chamber wasn’t even breached and nothing was down there besides dirt and beetles. Lots of beetles though. Thousands of the little buggers came from all directions. They were like a black carpet inside the hole, covering every surface. They wouldn’t leave either.”

  Duke Crillington fell silent, his eyes distant, and his left cheek twitching. Zachary and Suykimo waited, minutes passing before Suykimo spoke, encouraging the man to continue.

  “Oh,” the lord said, startled, “my apologies. I must have been lost in my thoughts. We covered the area in oil and burned the beetles, but they were replaced by thousands more. They were eating the corpses of their fallen kin. We burned them also. Bolton must have almost no insects remaining. But I digress; after they were dead we noticed the rats. They also devoured the charred bodies of the beetles. You could hear them. It was horrid. An undertone of soft clicking and crackling lik
e a distant fire. We burned them also. The smell was incredible. Local merchants were complained about it. I am afraid we will have many hungry cats.”

  “My Lord,” Suykimo said, “what can we do to help? Why did you call upon us?”

  “Oh, yes!” The Duke was relieved to move on. “The three of you are infamous for dealing with odd occurrences. Professor Walters, who shall be joining us for dinner, recommended you. He spoke highly of your skills and abilities. We need you to find out how we may open this container and learn out what lies within.”

  “Forgive me for asking, My Lord,” Zacchary said, “but why would you want to open it after all the peculiar happenings?”

  “Those were just coincidences,” the Duke said. “I would bet on it.”

  “Would you bet your life on it,” Zachary asked, “and the lives of the people in the city?”

  “Excuse me?” The Duke frowned.

  “Did I miss anything important?” Elizabeth asked as she entered the library. Suykimo stood, as all three men acknowledged the presence of the lady. Everyone sat again, except Zachary. After the footman refreshed everyone’s tea and left the room, they continued.

  “We shall help,” Suykimo began before anyone else could speak. “Zachary, I would like you to investigate the site. Elizabeth, please check the University library. You know the people there, and worked with many of them since you left. I will tell you more of what to look for as we return to the city. I shall visit my brethren at the churches and holy temples, and see what I may learn there. Your Grace, if we may use your coach to return to the city?”