Clockwork Legion (Aboard the Great Iron Horse Book 4)

by Jamie Sedgwick

  In that breath came a distant recognition, like a long-forgotten memory rising from the depths of her subconscious. She closed her eyes and a vision of the creature appeared before her. It was tall, elegant, wildly powerful. A noble animal, recognized and worshipped for its rugged power and beauty, and sought after by men both as a prized trophy and as a spiritual guide. The cloak was made from the hide of an elk, and somehow, without even being able to explain, Shayla knew that she had become one with that creature. She had somehow absorbed its essence into her own body.

  No, not somehow. She knew exactly how. It was the starfall that had done it, just as it had done to Burk when he purposely -and insanely- imbibed the fuel. The mutations had been more pronounced in him, because the exposure was more direct and more concentrated. It had turned the blacksmith into a monster, a creature more animal than human.

  In either case, the change was permanent. The change was always permanent. Never again would Shayla look upon her reflection and see her true self. She doubled over, weeping into the fur.

  Chapter 11

  The Iron Horse crewmembers stood agape as the ghoulish overseer approached them. The crew had encountered creatures like Anu-Abas before, but… not exactly. Unlike the living corpses of Blackstone castle, this creature was sentient. It could talk. Not only that, but it somehow had the intelligence to augment parts of its own decaying body with mechanical replacements.

  Anu-Abas stopped a few yards away, glaring at the crew. Socrates took a few steps closer with his hands held up in a nonthreatening gesture. A few puffs of steam shot out of the ape’s exhaust chimney, and his legs made quiet whirring and clicking noises as he moved. He craned his neck a little, looking up into the tall creature’s face. As he moved, the overseer’s eyepiece rotated, the lenses twisting back and forth as it focused on him.

  “Forgive our intrusion,” said the ape. “We are here on an exploratory mission, and we only wish to observe your culture; to become allies with your people. We have often found such relationships may be beneficial to all parties involved. I assure you, we have the utmost respect.”

  The overseer raised his scepter. He leveled it at Socrates with a menacing scowl, brandishing it like a weapon. Before he could react further, they heard a shout and a loud crack! in the distance.

  A group of thirty people came walking out of the jungle a few hundred yards away. They were peasants, dressed mostly in rags and ranging in age from five or six to seventy. They were filthy, their hair caked with mud, blisters and welts marring their skin. Some carried baskets brimming with clusters of bright red grapes, while others pulled two-wheeled handcarts that were also loaded down with the fruit.

  Another overseer rode alongside them in a two-wheeled chariot. He was tall like the first, and he brandished a whip in his right hand. His body was mostly intact, with the exception of a mechanical gauntlet that had replaced his left hand.

  River stared at the chariot, trying to figure out the means of propulsion. She did not hear any engine, or see any exhaust. Perhaps, she thought, it was electrical, like the motor they had recovered from the crashed train. Unfortunately, she couldn’t be sure without a closer look.

  The moment they were free of the jungle, one of the children broke away from the group. He was a ten-year-old boy with olive skin and dark curls reaching down to his shoulders. He took off at a run, and the overseer on the chariot shouted a warning. One of the women in the group, likely the boy’s mother, cried out and took off after him.

  The crew of the Iron Horse watched with a sort of detached confusion. It wasn’t immediately apparent what was going on, but it became all too clear as the charioteer raised his metal-handled whip. He whirled it overhead, snapping it in the air with the sound of an exploding firecracker. It struck the woman across her back. She fell to her knees, sobbing, reaching out to the boy, begging him to return. The people around her averted their eyes, shame and fear evident on their faces.

  “Socrates!” River said, reaching for her revolver. “These people are slaves!”

  “Wait,” the ape commanded, raising his hand in the air. “Give me a chance to settle this dispute peacefully.”

  The charioteer guided his vehicle around the woman and put on a burst of speed in pursuit of the child. The boy darted left and right as he dodged through the pedestrians inside the village. He raced alongside one of the smaller pyramids, and cut across the broad lawn, moving in the direction of the crew. The charioteer called out another warning and then cracked the whip over the boy’s head. Terrified, the boy stumbled. He hit the ground and rolled. He immediately pushed back to his feet and broke into a fresh sprint.

  By this time, River and the others could see the terror on the poor child’s face. His eyes widened a little as he saw them, but he kept running in their direction. Perhaps he sensed that they were like him in some way; that they would protect him from the overseer and his kind. Or, perhaps he simply saw the opportunity to lose his pursuer in the crowd.

  The whip cracked again, and this time it struck home. It snapped across the boy’s legs. An immediate scream burst forth from his lips, and he fell. He tumbled across the grass and came to a stop sprawled out on his belly. He didn’t move after that; he simply lay there, twitching and sobbing.

  The charioteer hit the brakes, skidding sideways as he pulled up alongside the child. They were close enough now that his undead features were clear. He had gray-blue skin, slightly darker than the first overseer’s icy blue color. He also had a short silver beard, and was missing his nose. The creature’s countenance was even more horrifying to look upon than his companion’s.

  Summoning his courage, the young boy pushed to his feet. He straightened his shoulders and glared up at the charioteer.

  “You have had your last warning, boy!”

  “Wait!” Socrates called out. “Please, listen to reason-”

  The charioteer raised his whip, ignoring the ape’s plea. He twisted his wrist, spiraling the weapon expertly overhead.

  There was a loud crack!, and a perfect round hole appeared in the center of the overseer’s forehead. His jaw dropped in surprise. The sound of the gunshot echoed through the jungle around them as the whip slipped from his hand. For a moment, everything went silent. No one in the vicinity spoke, or even moved.

  The overseer slumped, his dead body toppling over the side of the chariot, and landed on the ground in front of the child. The entire village turned to look at River.

  River stood at the front of the crew, her shoulders thrust back defiantly, the revolver still in her hand. A small cloud of compressed air dissipated as it drifted up from the barrel.

  “Fool!” shouted Anu-Abas. “How dare you?”

  He stepped past Socrates, brandishing his scepter. Thane moved to block the overseer’s path, and the creature thrust the scepter into the bard’s midsection. There was a lightning-like crackle and Thane’s eyes went wide. His body shook uncontrollably for a second and then dropped to the ground shaking and lurching.

  Loren had an arrow nocked, and he let it loose. It sang through the air, penetrating the overseer’s chest armor and passing all the way through. Anu-Abas grinned. He leveled his weapon at the Tal’mar warrior and squeezed the handle. There was another arcing sound as an invisible energy field drove Loren, Kynan, and Micah to the ground simultaneously. The concussive energy struck River as well, but she was at the edge of the field and managed to stay on her feet. She raised her revolver to fire again, but Anu-Abas was a half-second faster.

  The overseer adjusted his weapon’s aim and released another blast. With a crackling buzz, it swept River off her feet and threw her back several yards. The revolver tumbled from her grip as she landed in the grass, flat on her back. Socrates leapt forward, catching Anu-Abas by the arm. He yanked the overseer off-balance, and the ghoul dropped his weapon. Micah scurried in to snatch it up.

  Anu-Abas took a swing at Socrates, and the ape’s head made a dull clanging noise as the overseer’s fist struck home. It w
as a powerful blow, but not enough to jar Socrates. The mechanical simian reached out, catching the overseer by the scruff of his neck. He slammed the overseer’s face down into his hardened steel kneecap with the sound of a smashing melon.

  Before Anu-Abas could recover, Socrates lifted him in the air and threw him to the ground. The overseer landed heavily on his back. The violent attack would have killed any normal man, but Anu-Abas was hardly phased. He rolled over and started crawling to his knees. As he moved, Micah rushed in and jammed the scepter into the overseer’s face. Anu-Abas shook and convulsed until Micah lowered the weapon. The overseer collapsed, and went entirely still. The others came closer, gazing down at the ghoul.

  “Is he still alive?” Micah said, glancing at Socrates.

  “Alive? That’s not the word I would use.” He knelt down, the gears inside his body whirring as he reached out to touch Anu-Abas on the throat. “He has no pulse, but that may not indicate anything. The brain and nervous system-”

  Before he could finish his thought, they heard a horrendous scream in the direction of the largest pyramid. They all turned to see a third overseer at the base of the structure. This creature wore a kilt of gold and silver, with a matching cloak. Long jet-black hair hung down over his shoulders. He appeared younger than the first two, or at least in better physical condition. There were no mechanical replacement parts or augmentations that they could see.

  The ghoul rushed the group, barehanded and snarling like a rabid dog. The crewmembers spread out, giving themselves the room to fight. River lifted her revolver and lined up the sights.

  “I can’t get a shot,” she said. “There are too many people behind him.”

  “Same here,” Loren grumbled.

  As the overseer broke into a sprint, a gray-haired man split away from the crowd and ran straight at him. The ghoul was oblivious to this, until the man crashed into him, tackling the overseer to the ground. They landed hard on the grass and started to grapple. Somehow, the slave managed to get up on top of the ghoul. He started swinging at the overseer, raining blows down on his face and chest.

  A cry went up among the other slaves. They converged, rushing in to attack the fallen overseer. They kicked and stomped with their bare feet, and smashed him with sticks and rocks. The creature cried out as the crowd closed in around him. The screams went on for a few seconds and then abruptly died.

  Socrates rushed forward, pushing his way through the crowd. By the time he made it to the fallen overseer, there was very little recognizable of the creature. The ghoul’s decomposing flesh had fallen off in many places, exposing raw white bone. His neck was twisted at a sharp angle, and his skull was crushed into the ground like an overripe fruit.

  “Get back,” Socrates said. “That’s enough. The overseer is dead.”

  The slaves glared at him, unable to comprehend his words, apparently uncertain as to whether he was an ally or another overseer. One of them smacked him across the back with the handle of a hoe. The handle snapped in two, and the ape’s back made a loud metal clanging noise. Socrates turned on him with a snarl, and the slave dropped the broken hoe and fled.

  “Are there more?” Socrates shouted at others. The slaves stared back at him stupidly. “O-ver-seers,” the ape said, pronouncing the syllables slowly and deliberately as he pointed at their fallen enemy. “Are there more?”

  “No more,” said a voice behind him.

  Socrates turned and saw the old slave who had attacked the overseer. He was sitting on the stairs at the base of one of the smaller pyramids. He was stooped over, still struggling to catch his breath. His thin robes were torn, his tattered clothes revealing long angry gashes and bruises across his arms and chest. Whip-scars covered nearly every inch of his exposed skin. The scars even marred the old man’s sandaled feet.

  Socrates approached him. “Are you all right?” he said.

  The old man wrinkled up his face. “No, I am not. You killed us, machine. We all will die because of you.”

  Socrates frowned, looking his accuser up and down. “I tried to avoid this, I’m sure you can see that.”

  “Bah!” The man made a sweeping gesture. “By killing three? When the others come for the harvest, we will be meat for the birds!”

  “Others?” Socrates said. He heard a noise behind him, and realized that the rest of the crew had come up to stand behind him. The old man saw Micah among them, and his eyebrows went up.

  “Are you a trickster?” he said with childlike awe.

  Micah approached him, pulling off his wide-brimmed hat to reveal his imp-like features. He had started growing a short goatee, which made his long, sharply pointed chin seem even longer. “My name is Micah. I’m the train’s cartographer. Who are you?”

  “They call me Rapa-nu. It is our word for grandfather. I’m the oldest man in the village.”

  “How old are you, Grandfather?”

  “One hundred and three. I have seen many generations, but only one man who was older than me. Still, I am like a child to the Ana-nuit. The gods live forever. Do tricksters live forever?”

  “Gods?” Micah said, glancing over his shoulder at Socrates. “You said there were more of them? How many?”

  Rapa-nu locked gazes with the halfling. Micah frowned as he saw the careworn look on the man’s face, the tiredness in his eyes. He was pitiful. He put a gentle hand on Rapa-nu’s shoulder and squeezed reassuringly.

  “Don’t fear,” he said in a quiet voice. “We can help you. Look at my friends, look at their weapons! They can kill these aninit!”

  “Ana-nuit,” the old man corrected. “The eternal ones.”

  “You have nothing to fear from them,” Micah said. “Not anymore. Tell us, how many are there? And where are they?”

  Grandfather buried his face in his hands. “They will come soon. A hundred soldiers, with wagons and weapons. You cannot fight them. The Ana-nuit will punish us all.”

  After that, he refused to speak any more. Micah gave Socrates a helpless look. The ape shook his head. “I’m afraid we may have done more damage here than we can undo,” he said.

  At that moment, Loren called out to Socrates. The Tal’mar man had been watching over the body of Anu-Abas. The overseer was stirring, but seemed unable to rise.

  “Find some rope,” Socrates said to River. “Tie him up, and bring him into the pyramid.”

  Rapa-nu leapt to his feet. “No!” the old man pleaded. “You must not. Only the Ana-nuit may enter the holy chamber.”

  “Is that so?” said the ape. “And why is that?”

  “It is forbidden.”

  Socrates snorted. “Why am I not surprised?” He turned to face River. “Bind the overseer and bring him into the pyramid. The rest of you, spread out and keep an eye out for other Ana-nuit. Warn us if any appear. Micah… you come with me.”

  Micah hurried to walk alongside Socrates as they crossed the lawn to the great pyramid. The slaves gave them a wide berth, and most refused to even look at them.

  “They’re terrified of us,” Micah observed. “They’re as frightened of us as they are of the Ana-nuit.”

  “I’m not surprised,” said Socrates. “These people have probably never seen other humans, or any intelligent creatures other than their masters.”

  “The Ana-nuit,” Micah said, stroking his long chin. “Socrates, what’s different about them? How did they get… smart?”

  “That’s what I plan to find out,” the ape said.

  After a long climb up to the main entrance, approximately two-thirds of the way up the pyramid, the pair reached a broad terrace with gardens planted in rows along either ledge. Additional smaller gardens encompassed the pyramid at each level. Some of these were enclosed by canopies, others open to allow the light inside. Here and there, they saw aqueducts and waterfalls feeding the gardens, flowing down from the top of the pyramid.

  Brightly colored engravings decorated the entryway in the shapes of drawings and some indecipherable script. Two statues guarded the entra
nce on either side. These were made of dark iron, inlaid with gold and silver. The statues’ bodies appeared human, but their heads were shaped like lions, and each held a spear in one hand and a scepter in the other.

  “Are you sure we should go in there?” said Micah.

  “Don’t lose your courage now,” said Socrates. “These people have lived their entire lives in fear of whatever lies beyond these walls. Let’s find out what all the fuss is about.”

  Cool air washed over them as they passed through the entryway. The inside of the pyramid was relatively dark, lit only by a beam of light shining down through the crystal capstone. Micah sniffed, wrinkling up his nose. “It smells… clean in here. Like rain. What is that?”

  “I believe it might be ozone.” Seeing Micah’s perplexed look, Socrates elaborated: “It is an atmospheric gas that accompanies lightning storms. The scientific journals in Sanctuary made reference to it, but I’m afraid I never learned more than that.”

  “Is it safe to breathe?”

  “Has a rainstorm ever killed you?”

  “No.”

  “Then I would assume, at least in minute concentrations, that it is safe.”

  Micah’s eyes had adjusted to the darkened interior, and he turned his head, taking it all in. They stood on a balcony located at approximately the middle of the pyramid. At each corner a set of stairs led down to the first floor, and up to the next balcony overhead.

  Rising up from the center of the floor was a huge copper tower. It was perfectly circular and smooth, resting on a base of copper and brass windings. It supported a large metallic orb with mirror-like facets that gleamed under the light of the capstone. A giant disk rotated at low speed under the base, driven by a series of gears and a long driveline that extended through the wall to the mechanism outside.

  “What is all this?” Micah said.

  Socrates stroked his chin, staring at the device. “I believe we may have discovered the power source for their weapons.”