Clockwork Legion (Aboard the Great Iron Horse Book 4)

by Jamie Sedgwick

  Unlike most of the slaves, Ankasen was relatively fluent in the common tongue. He was a smart kid. He had learned the language from listening to the speech of the overseers. He was only ten, but strong for his age, and fearless, too. The whip marks on his back attested to this fact. The question was whether River could find a way to imbue that intelligence and courage into the rest of the village.

  Everything River and her companions did they met with suspicion. The villagers had no great love for their Ana-nuit overlords, but at the same time the slaves were too set in their ways, and too unsure of themselves to believe things could ever change. As strange as it sounded, they were actually comfortable with things as they were. They had a set of rules to live by, and overlords to manage their lives for them -to punish or reward them as they deemed fit. It wasn’t enjoyable, but it was simple. It was something they understood, and therefore need not fear. Rebellion, on the other hand, was terrifying.

  Ankasen released the string, and the arrow left the rest with a whoosh! As it did, the bowstring slapped his inner forearm. He let out a painful yelp and dropped the bow. The arrow zoomed in a high arc over the target, missing it by several feet, and vanished into the woods beyond. River watched the arrow disappear into the jungle and knew immediately that they would never find it again. She turned to face Ankasen, who lowered his face shamefully.

  “It’s all right,” she said, clapping a hand on his shoulder. “You did very well. Go see the priest about your injury.”

  River watched the boy sulk away. Of all the slaves, Ankasen had shown the greatest capacity for learning. Only a handful of the others had managed to successfully draw a bow that day, or even hurl a spear. None had come as close to the target as the boy. He had no fear of learning like the others. She couldn’t help wondering if the rest were even capable of it.

  Socrates had been standing a few yards back, watching her. River sighed as she approached the automaton. A slight grin twisted his simian features into a caricature of a human smile, but otherwise he stood perfectly still. Unnervingly still. Sometimes, when Socrates was deep in thought or concentrating on something, he looked almost like a statue.

  “Not going well?” he said.

  “That’s an understatement. They can’t learn this, Socrates. They can’t use bows, they can’t use spears… I wouldn’t even dream of giving one of these people a sword. The closest thing to a weapon they know how to use is a hoe. They’ll never survive a real fight.”

  Socrates stroked the fur on his cheeks, and pinched his chin between his thumb and forefinger. “What about crossbows?” he said.

  “Are you kidding? I wouldn’t go within fifty yards of one of these people if he had a crossbow. They’re a hazard. The only thing not in danger is the target!”

  Socrates chuckled, and a little puff of steam rose from his chimney. “We may be taking the wrong approach,” he said.

  “What do you mean?”

  “If we can’t train these people to fight, then we’ll have to find a way to use their passivity to our advantage.”

  It was River’s turn to laugh. “Great plan,” she said. “When the horde of undead warriors gets here, we’ll just ignore them to death.”

  Socrates didn’t respond. He was stroking his chin, gazing off into the distance. River stared at him.

  “You’re serious, aren’t you?”

  “There is an ancient proverb about warfare: A wise warrior will use his enemy’s strength against him.”

  “How can we do that?”

  “We must start by understanding the Ana-nuit. What are their strengths? What are their weaknesses?”

  “I don’t know about weaknesses, but they have the strength of numbers. They also have superior technology.”

  “Not necessarily superior, just different. Their ability to store energy and transfer it through these scepters is impressive, but it does have drawbacks.”

  “Such as?”

  “It’s not a ranged weapon. It is only useful in hand-to-hand combat and only at a distance of a few yards. It would be useless against a rifle, or even a bow.”

  “Maybe they have a bigger version, like a cannon.”

  “That is doubtful. I have discussed the Ana-nuit with the slaves in great detail, and they made no mention of any such weapon.”

  “Fair enough. Even if you’re right, they still have a large force of trained fighters. They will be well armed, and they’ll have chariots. Maybe even other technologies we haven’t seen yet. These people can’t fight against that.”

  “You are correct.”

  “Then it’s impossible to beat them. You’ve admitted as much.”

  “I’ve done no such thing. I agree that they are a superior fighting force, and we stand no chance against them in open battle. You and I know that, and they will know it from the first moment they see us. That is what we will use against them.”

  “You’re not making any sense.”

  Socrates handed River the scepter he’d been studying. She turned it over in her hands.

  “That is a powerful weapon,” he said, “but it has inherent weaknesses. It only operates within a hundred yards of the large pyramid.”

  “So what? If the Ana-nuit come marching in here with fifty men, we won’t be able to keep them at a distance.”

  “That’s what I’m counting on,” the ape said.

  River shook her head. “I’m not following you.”

  “What do you suppose would happen to that weapon if we ramped up the voltage by say fifty percent?”

  “I don’t know, maybe it would overheat? Or malfunction?”

  “Perhaps,” said Socrates. “I think it’s a question worth looking into, don’t you?”

  A wicked smile twisted up the corners of her mouth. “I guess I’d better find out.”

  “Excellent,” said Socrates. He turned and started walking across the lawn, towards the steamwagon parked nearby.

  “Wait!” River called after him. “Where are you going?”

  “To the train. I have a few tests of my own to run!”

  Chapter 17

  Thane had been waiting to talk to River. When she didn’t show up for supper, the bard decided to track her down on his own. The mechanic wasn’t in the village, but Micah said she might still be in the largest pyramid, where she had been working on a project for Socrates. The gentlemanly thing, Thane decided, would be to bring River a plate so she wouldn’t go hungry.

  This had seemed a simple enough proposition, until the bard actually started climbing the pyramid. The structure’s stairs were taller than normal stairs, and within the first few yards, Thane began to second-guess his generosity. He was already breathless, and wasn’t sure he could even make it to the entrance without spilling the plate, much less get there while the food was still warm.

  He wasn’t willing to admit defeat yet, though. He removed his cloak, hanging it over his arm, and proceeded on his way.

  The bard quickly developed an appreciation for the engineering involved in the massive structure. It was like climbing a mountain, except that this mountain had been carved by human hands, and many of the stones were the size of a house. It was inconceivable that such a structure could have been built with the crude technology he had seen in the village. The only explanation was that the Ana-nuit had designed the structure, and guided the slaves in the building process. Even if that was the case, it was still a remarkable accomplishment. Where had they found stones that size? And how had they been moved? Unfortunately, the villagers had already proven reluctant to discuss their overlords, and even less so their incredible structures.

  When he at last reached the entrance at the midway point, Thane turned to face the village and was rewarded with a clear view for miles in every direction. It was truly breathtaking. To the east, he could see moonlight reflected in the sparkling waterfalls where the ocean spilled over the rim of the crater. In the other directions, the treetops formed bulging protuberances that in the dim twilight appeared like dar
k clouds floating across the earth.

  Thane couldn’t imagine a more romantic spectacle, and it was disappointing that he didn’t have someone to enjoy it with him. Shayla would have appreciated such a view, but unfortunately, she had made her decision. It was time for the bard to accept that and move on. He took a deep breath, inhaling the sweet aroma of lilacs. With a quiet sigh, he entered the pyramid.

  It was dark inside, the interior lit only by a handful of torches and the dull glow of the crystal capstone at the apex. Thane blinked, trying to get his eyes adjusted to the darkness. He approached the balcony rail, looking down into the chamber, and saw only machine parts and dark shadows. The copper tower sizzled with electricity. Tiny tendrils of lightning crawled up the skin of the machine to leap into the capstone with a blue flash. This happened every few seconds, and with every release of energy, the glow of the capstone brightened and then gradually began to decrease.

  “River?” Thane said, his voice echoing through the dark interior. She didn’t answer, so he took the stairway down into the bowels of the pyramid.

  It was darker here, so far from the glowing capstone. Thane took a torch from the wall and approached the tower at the center of the room. The disk turned, energizing the copper tower. The noise of machinery and water pumps filled his ears, and the scent of metal and grease washed over him.

  Thane heard a noise behind the metallic disk and followed the sound around back. River was there, hidden in the shadows with a long screwdriver in one hand and a lantern in the other. She was in a state of deep concentration, studying the many copper wires, pipes, and conduits that extended out of the machine. She reached up to tap one of the conduits, and then took a few steps to the side as she traced it to its origin.

  Thane was not surprised by River’s fascination with the machine. She was enamored of all things mechanical, and when she found something like this that she didn’t understand, she would study it until she had extracted all its secrets one by one. The bard didn’t say anything, but instead stood watching her. River reached up, touching another of the overhead pipes, and Thane couldn’t help admiring her figure as she stretched out, exposing her bare midriff.

  River was beautiful -far more so than she seemed to know- and to Thane, watching her was like appreciating a work of great art. River had fine, almost platinum blonde hair and light skin. These attributes she had inherited from her mother, who was half Tal’mar, but she also had the dark eyes and sturdy build of her deceased father, and this made her something of an enigma. Thane had never known a woman quite like her: so gorgeous, yet as formidable in a fight as any man. River never ran from a confrontation. Often enough, she started them.

  After a few moments, the bard began to feel a bit guilty about his voyeurism. He cleared his throat to get her attention. River, who had been bending over one of the conduits, straightened so fast that she hit her head on part of the framework. The metal made a loud clanging noise that reverberated up and down the shaft. Thane winced.

  “My apologies. I didn’t mean to startle you.”

  “I didn’t hear you come in,” River said, rubbing the back of her head.

  “I didn’t see you at dinner. I thought I would bring you a plate.” He held up the food he had brought, and River smiled.

  “Oh! What time is it, anyway?”

  “Late. Nearly ten.”

  “Is Socrates back from the train?”

  “He’s been coming and going. Last I saw, he was inspecting the grape harvest. Turns out the ghouls love those things. They eat the fruit, they turn the juice into wine. There’s an entire cellar full of barrels beneath the smaller pyramid.”

  “I must have been right then,” she said absently. “The juice of those grapes must contain starfall.”

  She tossed her screwdriver into the toolbox, and accepted the tray of food the bard brought for her. River settled down on the edge of the platform and Thane took a seat next to her. He threw his gaze around the room.

  “What have you been working on?”

  “Good question. I’m trying to amp up the power, but I can hardly understand this system. The flywheel plate is the generator -that part is obvious, you can tell by the magnets- but the rest is like nothing I’ve ever seen.” She craned her head back, following the pipes and circuits with her eyes as they climbed toward the apex. “I’ve reworked the gears to bring up the RPMs, and I’m doubling the wire gauge. That ought to get things moving in the right direction, but I won’t know until I can test it…” Her voice drifted off. She bit off a crust of bread and chewed it absently as she continued studying the machine. Thane cleared his throat.

  “River, there’s something I’ve… something I need to tell you.”

  She pulled her gaze back to meet his. Thane felt a slight swooning, as if the gravity of her being was drawing him in. It seemed she could look right into his soul. River narrowed her eyebrows.

  “What is it?”

  “I worry about you… you work so hard, and you never take time to rest-”

  “I’m fine,” she said with a grin. “I’m a big girl. You don’t need to worry about me.” She went back to her food, and Thane watched her eat in silence.

  She is not a delicate eater, the bard realized, watching her wolf down the last of a slice of bread. Even so, she was still somehow beautiful. He couldn’t help smiling. Unfortunately, River caught him.

  “Is something funny?” she said around her mouthful.

  “Do you like the food?”

  “I’ve had better.”

  “When this is all over, perhaps I could cook for you again.”

  Their eyes locked. Thane felt the swooning again, and River seemed almost unable to look away. Feeling that it was now or never, Thane leaned close. The bard pressed his lips tight against hers, and closed his eyes.

  The world seemed to melt away. He felt the warmth of her mouth against his own, the taste of salt on her lips, the scent of sandalwood rising from her throat. Chills crawled across his skin. His eyelids drifted open, and-

  Whomp! Stars flashed through his vision. His skin burned, and his cheek instantly started to swell. River was already on her feet with both hands knotted into fists. She flexed the right one; the one that had just hit him, but Thane reached out and caught her by the wrist.

  “Wait! I’m sorry, I didn’t mean-”

  “I think I know what you didn’t mean,” River said, jerking away. She went rushing out of the pyramid, leaving Thane sitting next to her half-empty plate. He absently rubbed his swollen cheek. He didn’t really feel the pain. It wasn’t his cheek that was hurting, it was something else; something he didn’t want to admit.

  This took the bard by surprise. It may not have been as sudden as River’s wallop, but it was at least as shocking. When had he begun to feel this way about her? He had never felt this way when Shayla was around. Why was that? Had her presence comforted him that much? Or, was it that now she was gone, he could understand his real feelings? What were his real feelings?

  Thane rose to his feet. He ambled across the floor, towards the stairs, and made the short climb up to the balcony. He seemed suddenly very aware of everything around him: the dusty, ozone-tinged smell of the air inside the pyramid, the rustle of his clothing, the sound of his boot heels on the hard stone, the noise echoing all around…

  He walked through the threshold, out onto the dais. The world seemed to open up before him. Stars twinkled in a midnight blue sky, their silver light falling down to dance across the treetops. The moon hung suspended over the jungle like a pendant. Here and there, torches flickered among the streets in the village. The air was thick with the scent of lilacs and incense and fermenting grape juice.

  Thane heard a sound behind him and swung his head around, taking an instinctive step back. He relaxed as he saw River leaning against the pillar at the entrance. He hadn’t noticed her there in the darkness. Their eyes met, and he felt that painful gnawing at his insides once again. Almost worse than her reaction was his own fe
eling of guilt. What had he done to their friendship? What if she couldn’t forgive him?

  River’s eyes glistened in the moonlight, her hair shimmering. He waited for her to say something, but she only stared. A moment passed, and his sense of discomfort grew.

  “River, I’m sorry-” he started to say, but the moment he began to speak, she sprang upon him. River crashed into him so hard that she drove the bard a step back. His arms flew out to the sides, unbalanced, half expecting another punch to the jaw. Instead, River put her hands to his face and drew it down to meet her own. Their lips met, her hot sweet breath gushing into his mouth, her body soft but surprisingly powerful against his own.

  Thane forgot what he was about to say, forgot what he had been thinking, forgot everything that had just happened. He pulled her close against him, squeezing her tight as if in fear she might escape. The stars seemed to swirl around them, and the sweet perfume of the night air settled over them like a blanket.

  Chapter 18

  The next morning, River woke to the sound of distant voices and the quiet hum of the pyramid’s generator. She became conscious of the cold stone floor beneath her, the warm velvet cloak spread over her like a blanket, and the golden light streaming in through the entrance. Her clothes were rumpled and uncomfortable from sleeping in them, and her back ached from sleeping on the stone floor. She blinked, for a moment not quite sure where she was. Then Thane stirred next to her, and it all came back.

  River propped herself up, turning so she could face him. The bard’s eyes fluttered open. He gazed up at her through his thick blond bangs, and a warm smile came to his lips.

  “Morning,” he said.

  “Hush!” River whispered, tossing the cloak aside. She pushed to her feet and hurried over to the entrance, where she stood at the corner, partially concealed in shadow, and gazed down at the village. Behind her, Thane crawled to his feet, slid on his boots, and walked over to join her.