Arcanum - Of Steamwork and Magic Ch. 10

"Impossible," I whispered.

"What?" Maggie, Gillian and Virginia said, all at the same time. Sally instead said 'wot.'

I looked up at them. "This weapon's design requires mithril." I tapped the schematic. "And the design appears to focus electrical currents into the mithril to try and provoke a magick effect to ignite the kerosene and launch it in a quasi-magick field at the target!" I shook my head.

"So?" Sally asked. "It's a magick gun. Whaz so -hic- odd about tha?"

"Have you not noticed how Virginia's magick works on me one times out of ten?" I asked.

Sally scratched her chin. "Now that you mention it..." She muttered.

"That's why," I said, then tucked the schematics into my pack. Once I had done so, I picked up the chassis. As I was tucking it away, Virginia frowned and pointed at it and at me.

"Didn't you just say-"

"Well, of course I have to test it!" I said, grinning broadly at her. "For science!"

Virginia, Maggie, Gillian and Sally all looked less than amused. Dogmeat barked happily and wagged his tail.

"Dogmeat believes in me," I said, waggling my finger at Virginia.

***

The night passed. No, we did not have another orgy. We simply talked. We enjoyed the sea breeze. We watched as the sky glittered and became rich with stars. And in the morning, we set out once more, heading along the beach once more. As the sun rose, so did the temperature, and when the time came for our mid-day break, I slipped away from the group to relieve myself in the woods...or at least, I tried. Virginia immediately set out after me. Dogmeat followed her. Sally and Gillian and Maggie followed him. I came to the line of trees, then turned and frowned at the chain I had acquired.

"I am going to relieve myself," I said, frowning.

"And the last time I allowed that, you were attacked by a member of the Molochean Hand and nearly killed!" Virginia said.

I heard a loud crack behind me. I turned, slowly, and drew my pistol as I did so. Behind me, I could hear the rest of the party drawing their weapons as well. Looking into the shadows of the jungle, I slowly became aware of a vast shape looming there. It was as tall as I, but it was as broad shouldered as four men, maybe more. Two glinting, reddish eyes glared out from the darkness, and I gulped slowly as the beast started to move forward with a queer, quadrupedal gait - queer for it clearly had huge hands. It moved on its front knuckles as easily as I might on my hands, and as it emerged from the jungle, I saw it had a nearly human face. Broader, covered in rust red fur, and attached to immensely muscular shoulders by a neck twice as thick as mine...but still close to human.

"Is that an ape?" Virginia asked. I felt my pistol twitching in my hand - the magnetic field used to accelerate my bullets growing erratic as the beast looked at me. The voice of Ogden, from the camp, echoed in my memory: "Some magick touched ape. It can stop time about itself. Things seem to freeze, and then your arm is on the ground next to you."

"It's a clock beast," I whispered.

"Did you say cock beast?" Sally asked, sounding half excited.

The ape crackled with golden lightning. Magick slammed into my body and my mind and the whole world seemed to slow and gray. The whole world froze about me...and my mind continued to process. I could see the ape thumping towards me, drawing closer and closer as the whole world seemed to be still and frozen. But it wasn't the whole world, was it? The waves still crashed against the beach. The leaves still fell from trees. But I, Gillian, Maggie and Sally, all of us were frozen as the beast drew closer and closer, crackling and popping and hissing as golden lightning crawled along its fur.

So this was it?

I was going to be slain by some ape in the wilderness? That was how I was going to die? The huge beast grabbed onto my right arm, about to rip me apart. But as it set its grip and I felt its terrible strength...a sudden blur leaped from the side of my vision. A large from crashed into the side of the red ape, and the entire world snapped into focus again, time speeding up for me. I staggered backwards, shaking myself...and saw that Dogmeat had sprang onto the red ape's shoulder. His teeth had sunk into the neck of the beast, and he worried his head from side to side, snarling and growling. The vast beast roared, then grabbed onto Dogmeat's back.

Before I could blink, Sally was there. Her battle-ax slammed down and caught the beast in the wrist. He roared and the hand of the monster fell to the ground, opening and releasing Dogmeat. Dogmeat landed, barking furiously, his fur matted with blood. The beast backhanded Sally in the chest with his still intact hand. Sally rolled away. But by then, I had drawn my pistol and stepped back, enough so that I felt the magnetic fields were once more coherent.

I fired.

The round punched into the clock beast, sending it staggering backwards. Golden lightning crackled, and I knew it was trying to once more twist time about itself. I fired again, then again, then again. Each time, the roaring sound echoed throughout the entirety of the beach. Birds scattered in every direction, screaming their fear to the four winds. The beast staggered against a tree, four massive holes torn in its chest. Blood bubbled around its muzzle, and a human hate flared in its eyes. A fierce, abiding, endless hatred for me and for mine. I fired again and took one of those great, hateful eyes out.

The beast drew a smeared line of crimson upon the tree as it skidded down, then slumped to the side. One great leg kicked spasmodically at the ground and then, at last, it laid still.

"Bugger me."

Each of us turned.

The two goons that had found me, earlier in this week, both gaped at me.

"You killed the clock beast!" the one who had tossed me into the pit said.

I looked at them and, somehow, resisted the urge to shoot both dead.

***

Ogden looked at my weather beaten self, my new clothes, and the severed head of the clock beast with an expression of faint distaste, as if he wasn't entirely sure if he was pleased or displeased. In the end, he settled in his normal sour disposition. "I suppose that you will want to speak to Thorovald?" he asked.

I nodded. "That is, indeed, exactly what I want to do."

Ogden looked at my companions. All of them were standing quite near one another, glaring around themselves as the rest of the camp eyed them like walking meat. I could see Ogden doing calculations and immediately coming to an obvious conclusion. "You will, of course, need to speak to Thorovald alone."

I sighed. "Of course."

The interior of Thorovald's house was quite what I expected: As close as one could get, within the constraints of the Isle of Despair, to opulence. Several salvaged paintings whose bloodstains and water marks made it clear that they had been taken from shipwrecks. Carpets that had been repaired many times over. Furniture that nearly approximated what could have been found in civilization. And, finally, Thorovald himself. He was a tough looking dwarf, with a bushy beard that had been cropped and shaved to make it nearly cylindrical. His left eye was furrowed by a scar that had narrowly missed turning the eye into so much gore. His clothing was rough, as fancy as could be allowed, and he looked as if he regularly fed on finer meals than the rest of this camp: His belly strained against his shirt.

"So," he said, looking at me from the seat that he was occupying. A book rested in his hand, with a well worn, often used look to it. "You're the halfie whose been causing such a ruckus in my camp."

I clasped my hands behind my back. "That's me, Mr. Two Stone."

Thorovald nodded, slightly. "So. Why did you go through such trouble to see me?"

"I'm here on this island under the auspices of one Mr. Gilbert Bates," I said, watching the way Thorovald's eyebrows rose in interest at that. "I have been sent to this island to find the exiled Black Mountain Clan."

"You're a bit off your target, orc," he said, frowning, his fingers stroking along his book. "You should be looking at their mines, in the Black Mountain." He sneered at me.

"And you clearly need to listen, dwarf," I said, my voice growing sharp. "You must have missed the part of my sentence where I used the word 'exiled.' In case that is beyond your vocabulary, 'exiled' implies being banished to an failed mining colony because they committed a crime." I scowled at him. "Now, I've had a very long, very irritating week. I've almost been killed by almost everyone I've met on this damn island. And I will not leave this house without some godsdamned answers. Where. Are. The Dwarves!?"

Thorovald's eyes were wide underneath his bushy eyebrows. "I'm the only one here," he said, angrily. "Other than that Magnus chap you brought with you." He shook his head. "What on Arcanum makes you think the BMC would be here?"

I sighed, slowly, feeling as if my long road had unfolded to become even longer. I rolled my shoulders and began to pace in the room. "I entered the Black Mountain Mines and found a pillar, telling me that elves and the Wheel Clan banished the BMC here," I said, looking at him as I walked. "It was carved by Gudmund Ore Bender-"

"Gudmund!?" Thorovald sprang to his feet, his boots thumping upon the floor. "You spoke to him?"

"I..." I blinked.

"Please, tell me, is he hale?" Thorovald asked. "It's been nearly two centuries since I saw the bugger. He was my..." He slowly trailed off, seeing my expression. "He's dead, isn't he?"

I nodded. "I'm sorry-"

Thorovald shook his head. "No matter," he said, his voice growing gruff. "Friends die. That's the nature of this world." He stroked his beard. "But what you say doesn't make any sense." He licked his lips, slowly. "The Wheel Clan would never follow the orders of elves."

"It does sound peculiar," I said, frowning.

"And the BMC isn't here," Thorovald said. "Why would Gudmund be mistaken? He was sound of mind. Cunning of spirit."

"I don't think he was mistaken," I said.

Thorovald narrowed his eyes. "If you're intimating my friend lied..."

I barely resisted the urge to roll my eyes. "I think he was lied too," I said. "Someone wanted the Wheel Clan and the rest of the world to think the Black Mountain Clan was sent here. Someone who has a great deal of power and influence."

Thorovald's hand went to his beard. Once more, he stroked it, considering. "Well, I hate to break bad news to you, but your journey ends here, orc," he said, quietly. "Even if you weren't trapped upon the Isle of Despair-"

"I'm not," I said, casually. "I wasn't just dumped out of a prison barge, Thorovald. My ship is moored off the coast."

Thorovald's eyes widened. "It is?"

I nodded.

Thorovald scowled. "But there's still another barrier in your way." He put his hand to his chest and I saw that there was a small necklace about his neck. As his hand shifted, I could see that he was caressing a pair of what appeared to be spectacles, dangling underneath his homespun shirt. I pursed my lips and took note of the fact that the lenses were a deep, emerald green hue. Thorovald continued. "The Wheel Clan's entrance is concealed from prying eyes and orcish war bands by an optical illusion. Only seeing in the, heh, right way...will reveal it."

"Those glasses?" I asked, inclining my head to him.

Thorovald blinked, clearly taken aback. "Well...yes," he said, scowling at me.

"Well, then," I said, my mind immediately settling upon the only acceptable outcome for this day. "You can come with me to the ship." I smiled.

Thorovald looked at me as if I had begun to speak ancient Elvish. "What?" his voice was low.

"You. Can. Come. With. Me. To. The. Ship." I said, enunciating each word simply. I could see a flash of emotion flaring across the middle aged dwarf's face. It was first anger that I was speaking down to him - followed by fear. And I think I knew why. Here? He was king. He could say who lived, who died. He could control the life and the body of the only woman in camp, parceling her out like she was a reward for him to trade on. If he came with me to the mainland, he would have to remember what he was: A low life criminal, exiled to an island so the rest of the world might forget him. That fear was growing and I could see him talking himself into thinking it was, in fact, bravery to remain here and face the harshness of the jungle.

"Come now," I cut into his thoughts. "Are you a gnome, to hide from the future, or a dwarf?"

Anger again. Anger and resolve. "Come on," he growled. "Lets go." He looked about his room. "Not much to bring..."

"Maybe Boggs?" I asked, my voice casual. "She's yours, isn't she?"

Thorovald nodded, absently. "Yeah. Grab the bitch and lets, heh, get to the ship."

My smile was forced. "My pleasure."

***

"We're...leaving?" Cynthia asked, her eyes wide as saucers.

"Yes," I said.

"On a...ship?" she asked, nodding her head with the words.

"Correct," I said.

"O...Off the island?" she asked, her voice growing tremulous. I reached out and took her hand. I squeezed it.

"I'll make sure you get safely to a better life than this," I said, my voice very soft. "I swear." My eyes met hers and I saw her eyes filled with the same fear that Thorovald had shown - but unlike him, she quickly firmed her bravery. She gripped it, nodded, and whispered.

"Aye," she said.

I walked her out of her small hovel, and we joined up with the rest of the group. Thorovald was blustering to Ogden, claiming that we were going to show him to the submerging ship that we had found. Ogden seemed to believe this, and the camp watched all of us go. If any of them seemed to think it odd that the camp's only woman was going with us, they did remember that I had slain the clock beast. If I chose to take my reward in the jungle, rather than in the street...that was my prerogative, right?

However, I could not help but think that we had left a growing tension behind us. The rest of my party seemed to feel the same - even Dogmeat put extra speed to his padding, his tail lifted up in alarm, his ears flattened back against his head. We emerged from the jungle and to the beach - and there was the Gypsy Shadow, riding low at anchor, the crew bustling and preparing the rigging for sail. A small jolly boat was set on the shore, and Captain Edward Teach stood on the prow, his hands on his hips, his smoking blond beard as wild and bristly as ever. He beamed at me, laughing uproariously as I waved at him.

"Rayburn Cog!" he boomed. "Are you ready to be the first man to escape from the Isle of Despair?"

Thorovald sprang onto the jolly boat, looking back, his eyes wild with fear. "Lets get out of here," he said as Cynthia got onto the boat as well. Teach eyed them with clear judiciousness, but I smiled at him to show they were with us. Sally put her broad hands on the jolly boat, ready to begin to push her out. But behind us, a loud crack rang out. Sand exploded from the beach behind me and I spun around, to see that twelve, twenty of the prisoners were emerging from the jungle, holding their weapons. At the head was the man who had pushed me into the pit, his face twisted with fury.

"You running out on us, Two Stones!?" He shouted.

"We leave now!" Thorovald said, voice tight with panic.

Captain Edward Teach lifted his hands, stepping off the boat. His grin was broad as his bicorn hat, and his voice - pitched as he was bellowing over a storm - echoed across the whole beach. "Whoa, whoa, whoa! Settle down lads! You all are looking a mite mutinous here..."

The prisoners looked at Teach as if they could not believe our eyes. The man who had hurled me into the pit sneered impressively. "Who are you supposed to be, Stringy Pete?"

"Oh no, no, no, no..." Teach said grinning. His voice became deadly soft. "I'm Captain Edward Teach."

The prisoner's eyes all widened.

Teach pulled two pistols from his waist bands and began to fire - the revolvers he carried barked and flared, smoke filling the air as he laughed uproariously. The prisoners with guns fell first, bullets tearing into their chests. The prisoners without hesitated, giving Teach time enough to draw his second pair of pistols and unload into them as well. The smoke drifted away from him, but his laugh continued to echo out, louder than the guns. The surviving prisoners broke and fled, screaming in terror as Teach tossed his second pair of pistols to the ground.

Groaning bodies were scattered across the beach - less than a quarter of the prisoners.

"By this time tomorrow," Teach said, cheerfully. "I'll have killed fifty men in the first volley alone, mark my words, laddy. Sally!" He boomed.

"Aye aye, captain?" Sally asked.

"Get us out to sea!" Teach leaped onto the jolly boat as water lapped about the hull, lifting it from the sands. Sally heaved and I had to scramble to get on, dragging a still stunned Virginia after me. As we set in the boat, Sally and Gillian got to the oars and Cynthia started to sob in pure joy. Thorovald shook his head, then lifted his hand to slap Cynthia - a practiced gesture. But Virginia snarled at him and he subsided until we reached the Gypsy Shadow. Scrambling up the netting, we came to the deck and Teach began to bellow orders. The anchor rattled in its chain and the sails rumbled as they were dropped from the rigging. The sails creaked and belled outwards and the whole ship began to leap forward, cutting through the waves.

Thorovald stood beside the railing, looking out at sea. His voice was soft.

"I...can't believe I'm getting off that island..." He shook his head. "Two centuries for killing a few women, really..." He sneered. "In the clans, they'd have cut my head off. Humans are weak."

"Yeah," I said. Then, nodding, I looked down at him. "So, those glasses, how do they work?"

Thorovald plucked the glasses from his collar. He held them up, smiling. "Put them on and look at the Grey Mountains, a few dozen miles east of Stillwater?" He grinned. "This will show the way."

I nodded.

Then I plucked the glasses from his fingers, reached down, grabbed Thorovald by his ankle, then lifted. Thorovald yelped once, then he was over the railing and plunged, headfirst, into the surf. It transpired that the incredible density of a dwarf was not conducive to swimming. His head did not even break the surface.

I turned my back to the sea, to see if any had witnessed what had transpired. Virginia had. She was looking at me with very wide eyes, her mouth hanging open in shock. I met her eyes, then slowly looked at Cynthia. Virginia looked at her. I could tell she was placing the pieces together: Prisoners, vile men, trapped in a prison, with a single woman in their grasp. She regarded Cynthia...pursed her lips...

Virginia looked back to me and nodded.

No one ever asked what had happened to Thorovald.

TO BE CONTINUED