This Deadly Engine

by Philip Ligon

  A pile of wood, rocks, metal, bricks, and other rubble blocked our path.

  Did I have enough stamina left?

  Perrin asked, “What about the Ring of Seven Powers?”

  I took it from my pocket. Four stones remained – one gave increased speed, one gave protection from spears and arrows, one enhanced hearing, and the last enhanced smell. Since experience gave me an intimate knowledge of what I could do with speed, I crushed the stone between my finger and thumb. A numbing sensation took hold of my legs.

  I grabbed a chair and used it as a battering ram. I forced my way into the rubble again and again and again until the debris gave way with a mighty crack.

  We broke into the light of a hundred fires and into air filled with a high-pitched whistle.

  Cavendish yelled. A growing shadow indicated the presence of something large very near – the tip of the golden spire spun as it raced downward.

  I ran for the entrance to the Cathedral. The airship crash had twisted and torn the oak doors from their hinges. As the gold of the spire exploded into a thousand pieces, I rushed into the north transept.

  Schaever and Elizabeth stood before Bishop Donnavan on the dais. Most of the guests had moved to the front for safety reasons. A line of Guardsmen stood along the fourth row, ready to engage whatever came through the door, or through the massive hole in the wall and ceiling.

  All eyes watched us.

  Sheela stood next to Lady Elizabeth, her face pale, and her frame showing signs of stress and worry. Her cheeks had hollowed as if she no longer ate. Next to her stood Aimee, whose jaw dropped in surprise when she saw me.

  No one moved except for those freaks who survived the crash. They now numbered ten, including The Misters and the spider lady.

  Rebecca stood towards the front. She watched with fear, which struck particularly hard until Perrin said, “She does not recognize us. The transformation occurred after her capture.”

  “What is the meaning of this?” Schaever asked, his voice echoing through the room. “I demand to know the meaning of this interruption.”

  The freak army stepped forward – the spider lady, the man with the extra mechanical head, the boy with the long legs, the elf with the mechanical arms, the man with the metal torso, the lady with the red eyes and metal face, the girl with claws for hands, the gnome with the double torso, the man with his left side an exposed black skeleton, and Ravenlea. In the middle stood The Misters. Each of them glared at Schaever, who stepped higher on the dais to put more distance between himself and his experiments.

  Cavendish reached for his lady. “Ravenlea…where are you going?”

  She turned to him. “I am helping to put an end to the man who stole everything from me…from us.”

  He stepped to her. “But your place is with me. Together, we can make sure the Heart returns to our people.” He tried to take her hands, but she refused. “What…”

  She touched his cheek. “Cavendish…you must understand. He broke me. I am not the same woman you knew. The scars run deep. Very deep.” She kept her hand on his face as she looked down. “He changed more than my eyes.”

  He pressed her hand against his cheek. “But you are our Mother. Your place is with your Family.”

  “I can never serve our people again. They would never accept these changes, nor would I expect them to.” She whimpered. “The tears want to flow, but these eyes will not let me cry.”

  Cavendish said, “Then I will cry for the both of us as I follow you.”

  “No.” She pulled her hand away. “Your place is with the Heart. Stay at Ash’s side. Protect him. Protect our people.”

  The army advanced, and Ravenlea turned to go with them. She glanced back. “Good-bye my love.” When Cavendish moved to follow, she planted her palm firmly in his chest. “Stay with Ash. Do not come with me. What we do and where we go, you should not be a part of.”

  Cavendish tried to press forward. “I will never again leave your side.” When Ravenlea shook her head, he took her hand in both of his. “I lost you once already. I will not lose you again.”

  The freak army and the Guardsmen clashed with the clanging of metal.

  The gnomes stared at each other. Unspoken words and desires filled the space between them. Finally, they joined the fight. Together.

  The Misters unleashed the faeries. The tiny creatures, hundreds of them, flew out of the prison with a vengeance unrivaled by even Aimee. They swarmed the Guardsmen, and within moments, the automatons fell.

  The oily substance that kept the abominations of science and magic alive pooled beneath each machine.

  The faeries turned their attention on the crowd, and yells filled the sanctuary as people fled from the deadly creatures. A handful tried to defend themselves, including Aimee who swept from the front with a flurry of bombs. She hurt the creatures.

  But she will not hurt anyone else.

  I charged, yelling at her.

  Aimee moved down the aisle. Seeing her at a wedding in the same building where ours took place sent me back to that day. She had worn a white gown. Yellow and purple flowers had pinned her hair to the side. Strands of the interlaced flowers flowed to her shoulders. The train on her dress had stretched fifteen feet, spreading its lace the width of the aisle. A slight shade of red had colored her cheeks. She had glowed with happiness.

  I had loved that woman.

  In the present, however, a much different creature faced me. The smoldering look on her face, with purple smoke floating across cheeks blazing red with anger indicated what she had become. The darkness of her eyes, hidden beneath a crossed brow, and the tightness in her arms, straining to hold the bomb growing in her hands added to the reality of the darkness that consumed her.

  Part of me wanted to plead with her, to make one final attempt to reason with her. Yet I knew the folly of trying. I would not let her disappoint me again. I had given her far more opportunities than she deserved.

  Perrin said, “She is the worst one of all.”

  “Are you stating that because you have my memories and know my feelings?”

  He gave his familiar grunt. “Those help, but I say it from my own perspective. She is cold. In her own way, she is darker than Frengarn or Schaever.”

  Aimee ignored the fight around her as she stared at me. “I do not know how you escaped from me at the Exposition, Alexander. Unless that locket was the real Gray Heart.” She curled her lip. “Either way, I want it returned.” She threw one of her bombs.

  How many more times would I be forced to deal with her? How many more times would she take me back to the original bomb that forever changed me? How many more would I have to dodge, even as I did then when I leapt behind a pew?

  How many?

  Wood splintered on each side as she blew the pew apart.

  I took out my last magical item, the ring that protected the wearer from explosions. I slipped it onto my smallest finger. It stopped at the first knuckle.

  “Stop!” Schaever said with such authority that the sounds of the battle abruptly ceased.

  I peered over my small piece of pew and saw the man step from the dais. Elizabeth and the rest of the wedding party remained in their places, surrounded by the guests who had not fled from the faeries.

  Schaever said, “This is a private affair and you are causing an unwelcome interruption.” He pointed to The Misters, to Ravenlea, to the spider lady. “How dare you leave your proper place and come here. Not one of you is worthy of being in the presence of proper society. You never have, and you never will.”

  The remaining freaks joined the first three. Only the man with the plates on his face and the gnome with the double torso were missing. While I expected The Misters to give a haughty reply, Ravenlea spoke with her own authoritarian tone. “You will answer to us this day, Reginald Schaever. You will pay for your crimes against us.”

  Schaever folded his arms. “Do you not see that you are surrounded? Your fight is as hopeless as is your cause.”

&nbs
p; Ravenlea never took her eyes off Schaever even though the others glanced at the finely dressed automatons circling them. I spotted Rebecca among them. She tensed like she wanted to tear into someone who threatened her family.

  The gnome said, “This army of machines will not stop us. Nothing will keep us from you, Reginald Schaever.” She pointed.

  Mister Important held the headless Statue of Forneil. The statue’s outstretched arms beckoned for Schaever. The bulbous body oozed absolute evil. “Yes, but let us end this here and now.”

  Mister Mercy’s head rolled on his shoulder. “Hmmm…brother…”

  They dropped the statue. They placed their heel on it and pressed it into the floor.

  At first, it resisted. When they put their full weight on it and twisted their foot, the statue gave way.

  As it broke into pieces, a pulse radiated in all directions. It instantly touched everyone with a feeling I never wanted to experience again. An utter hopelessness that made me gasp and hold my head joined the despair the statue always embodied. Yet something much worse followed – a sudden and biting cold. It sucked away breath, grabbed my belly and squeezed, and made my bones ache all at once. It forced me to my knees.

  Perrin asked, “What…is this?”

  When I exhaled, my breath frosted in the air. My chest burned as I choked.

  What have The Misters done?

  Even as I gasped, the air warmed just enough to allow my lungs to work again. I fell back and enjoyed breathing…and for the first time in a long time I appreciated the simple act.

  Undeterred by the statue’s spell, the freak army descended on Schaever. He stood on unsteady legs as he also tried to shake off the magical despair. He pointed his cane at The Misters. Before I yelled in warning, he fired.

  The twins collapsed.

  Ravenlea grabbed the cane and ripped it from his hands. The others swarmed him, and he disappeared in a heap of flesh and metal. After several grunts and groans, Schaever reappeared. The man with the steel face lifted him high as the others took hold of his flailing arms and legs.

  Schaever said, “Put me down. Put me down this instant!”

  The freaks ignored his commands, which made him protest even louder. They turned for the ruins of the entrance. Schaever howled in pain as they rushed down the aisle and over the mounds of rubble. They disappeared in the smoke.

  Did we see the man alive for the last time? What did they have planned for him?

  Perrin said, “Nothing we need to witness. Better that we remain ignorant of their revenge.”

  I almost felt sorry for him.

  But not quite.

  Whatever the crushing of the Statue of Forneil had unleashed, it rendered comatose every automaton in the room. From Rebecca Donnavan to the Bishop to Elizabeth, not a one moved.

  The flesh and blood that remained appeared as shaken as me. Cavendish sat up and blinked. Though he had tried to follow Ravenlea, she left him behind. Goldy pushed himself up. He rubbed at his belly. Others moaned as they slowly stood. Some cried.

  And then she stood in front of me, which meant she was not an automaton.

  Aimee readied yet another bomb.

  I faced her and held my arms wide. “So here we are. Why have you not killed me? Why do you fail every time you try?” I took a deep breath. Would she succeed at last? “Do you fail because you want to fail, because deep within you still love me?”

  She spit venom and hatred. “Love you? A magic addict? A man who goes against everything he ever claimed to be?”

  She had spoken such words so many times, they no longer bothered me. And besides, when a woman such as Rebecca Donnavan dared to love me, what did it truly matter what Aimee said?

  “And what of you?” I asked in a calmer tone than the situation called for. “What of the lonely girl who was abandoned to the orphanage? Didn’t she long for acceptance, for love, for someone to worship her?” At least by talking, I kept her from releasing her smoking bombs. “What would your mum think—”

  “My mum abandoned me, Alexander. In the same way you abandoned me. In the same way everyone abandons me.”

  I laughed. “Your mum never abandoned you. Your mum watched over you.”

  She threw the bomb in her left hand. The small ring’s protective barrier made the bomb bounce off, yet its force knocked me back. “Your mum has been closer than you know. She arranged for your employment at the Bank, and for your coming under Duke Schaever’s care.” How could she not know? “Genevieve is your mum, Aimee. Duke Schaever’s former head servant.”

  “You are lying. You are only trying to make me stop killing, to spare you.”

  “I’m telling you the truth. Do you know she fought her parents to keep you, but they wouldn’t hear of it? Do you know she attended a smaller, less prestigious school because the money they saved for her education went to the orphanage?”

  “Lies! All lies! See? You, a man of the Church, is supposed to be better than to spread false words. But maybe we all do what we want when faced with our death.”

  I had to remember what Genevieve told me. What small detail mattered the most? What could I not know from what Aimee had told me of her life?

  “You never did like etiquette lessons, did you? How many times did they force you to clean the dining room table after meals? And yet you still refused to take part in the lessons? Even after you had to mop and sweep in addition to the table cleaning?”

  “How…” She closed her eyes and tilted her head away. “You are lying, Alexander. You…”

  “You know I speak the truth.” Her resolve cracked and I needed to pry it open. “Why don’t you find Genevieve? Give her an elixir of truth if you must.”

  Aimee released her second bomb.

  It knocked me ten feet back.

  She would never listen to reason. She knew only hatred and destruction.

  And I will not take anymore!

  A cry filled the sanctuary. It spoke of anger and rage, of too many wrongs gone unavenged. It spoke of a primal hatred, in stark contrast to the former peace of the building. It spoke of a broken heart, a mended heart, and a sad heart all at once. The desperate nights of searching for the elixir to give relief from the pain echoed within it. The despair at coming so close yet failing in so many ways amplified it.

  My throat hurt as it released the sound. Yet I would not stop. Even Perrin’s loneliness and worry joined it, strengthening it.

  When Aimee paused, I charged towards her. The yell wavered only when my breath gave way. She released her bomb, which bounced off the invisible barrier and streaked through the air. Wisps of purple trailed from either side.

  An explosion sounded somewhere above.

  I pulled up short and faced her. I had to ask one more question. “I want to know—”

  “If I still love you?” She held a smoking bomb for me to see. “What do you—”

  “How did you survive the sinking of the vault?”

  Her brow shifted as if the question caught her by surprise. Yet even as she answered, people – real men and women – at the front yelled and screamed. The Cathedral answered with a rumble, and the stained-glass windows shattered in an array of colors. Crashes and booms and thuds filled the air as the front section of the building collapsed all about us.

  A piece of stone struck my left shoulder hard enough to knock me down. I fell onto a piece of wood as dust filled the air. More debris showered me as a brick struck the ground next to my head. Glass shards cascaded through the air and twinkled every color in the scattering of light.

  I remained hunched until the last sounds of falling debris gave way to moans and cries for help.

  Aimee coughed nearby. When I found her, my belly twisted.

  She lay on the ground, bleeding. A splintered beam had pierced her left side, just under the ribs. She gasped for air.

  Seeing her dying stirred some measure of compassion. I knelt beside her to offer comforting words, to give her some sense of peace in her last moments. “Aimee,�
�� I said, “this is Alexander.”

  She turned her eyes, but not her head. Her brow narrowed. She reached out. I took her hand, and a bomb bounced off me. A weak one, but she made her point.

  Indeed, Aimee hated me and would do so until she took her last breath.

  As I pulled my hand away, Cavendish ran to my side. He yelled, though I couldn’t hear what he said, and pointed above.

  More of the building threatened to collapse.

  The fire bells tolled in the town. Did they call for the Cathedral fires, or had the Expo inferno finally spread?

  Aimee gasped once, then twice. And then no more.

  I closed her eyes.

  With death, all the struggles of her life ended. She could never threaten anyone else, summon a magical bomb to destroy something, or try to kill me again. Her hatred had come to a close.

  The best word to describe how I felt?

  Relief.

  Cavendish asked, “Can we take the Heart to my Family now?”

  “Not yet…there is still the matter of the Donnavans.” I looked over the rubble of the Cathedral. Nothing in the sanctuary remained untouched. Dust and debris covered everything. Even the brown wood of the pulpit appeared white.

  What would the Bishop think if he saw such a mess in his beloved building?

  I made my way towards the front. Of all the smashed ruins of automatons about me, one face stood out – Lord Diggerty. I stared at the life-like machine. A beam had crushed his chest and exposed the black skeleton beneath. The metal bones reminded me that I did not look upon the actual man, even if he appeared so real.

  He had fallen close to the very place he and I had sat not so long ago when I learned he had secured an airship to leave Campden. In hindsight that moment seemed so straightforward, and I had been so naïve. The only real concern I had then was breaking Rebecca’s heart when I left her.

  Diggerty had been so proud, so sure, of himself. Now he had become another victim of the magical wars.

  I walked to the front.

  Though The Misters had been left behind by the freak army, I did not find them. A trail of blood led in the direction of the south transept and the cloister. Perhaps they sought Pienne’s help. Perhaps they tried to find a quiet place to die. Either way, they no longer concerned me.