| Breakfast of choice
Join Date: Oct 2008
Posts: 111
| Into Harms Way
The old thread was getting a tad-bit jumbled so I figured I'd post the entire work to date in a new one with everything in proper order. Areas marked in enclosed triple brackets (<<< >>>) are placeholders for unfinished portions of the work, it was a way to keep progressing if I felt stuck on a specific area. Quote: Prologue
Joseph stared out onto the rain slicked streets from his window, in full defiance of the order to go to bed. “But I don’t want go to bed, I want to stay up and wait for papa!” he cried as his mother tried to pry him from the windowsill.
Changing tactics, she started tickling him beneath his arms, “But papa won’t be home for several days dear.”
In a fit of giggles, he finally allowed himself to be caught, “but why Mama, why does he have to leave for so long? I hate it when they send him away.”
“Everyone who works for the Académie must go away once in a while dear. You remember Francué last month? I remember you liked his stories he told. He was here from a whole other city and his little boy had to wait for him to come home, just like you have to wait for your father to come home.” She laid the boy in his bed and tickled his nose, “and I’ll bet he went to bed ON TIME for his mother.”
He playfully stuck his tongue out, “No he didn’t! He stayed up the whole time!”
She threw her arm up in mock exasperation and said, “As I’m beginning to think you will do. Ms. Fleura?”
“Yes Madame?” asked the tinny sounding voice of the clockwork woman that had been quietly standing in the corner during the playful melee.
“Would you please bring me a glass of warm milk for my son and a gin on lemon and ice for myself?” She asked as she seated herself on her son’s bed.
“Of course Madame” it said. Its gears whirred quietly as the construct walked from the room.
“Mama, where’s Miss Rosaline?” the young boy asked as sat up.
“She was complaining of not feeling well so I sent her home to get better” she said to her son. Smiling she added, “I’m sure that your Nana Fleura can take care of us until she gets back.”
“Will you read me a story? I promise to go to bed if you do” he asked as innocently as he could manage.
“If you promise!” she said, and moved to stand. “Do you want me to finish ‘The Velvet Rabbit’?”
“No, read me this.” The boy produced a simple looking leather-bound journal from beneath his pillow.
“Why that’s your father’s class journal! No wonder he couldn’t find it this morning.” She carefully took the book from him and asked, “Why do you want me to read to you from this?”
“Papa’s stories he tells his classes are always so big and important sounding when I listen to them.” He looked expectantly at his mother. Once convinced he wasn’t going to get in trouble he continued, “I wanted to hear about the big storm in the sky and what made it, but he found me out and made me come home.”
The corners of her mouth turned down slightly, “Joseph Calgori, you know you aren’t supposed to sneak off like that.” Secretly she was laughing. Those stuffy men at the Académie took themselves far too seriously anyway.
The clockwork returned, carefully carrying a pair of glasses on a tray with both of its hands. It bent gently at the waist and offered each their drink. Gratefully taking hers, Mrs. Calgori said, “Thank you. Would you mind turning down my bed and seeing to the fire?”
“Not at all Madam”, the machine said as it curtseyed and walked back out of the room. Joseph took a drink from his glass and waited patiently for her to start. The journal would be dry reading, but it was sure to put Joseph to sleep. Unless she succumbed first that was.
“Well, all right.” She said and opened it to where the bookmark was. “Let’s see, ‘…Entropy is conserved in all things, natural and unnatural. The Thirteen obviously knew this when… ‘“
“What’s Entropy Mama?”
She looked at her son and shrugged, then laughed, “I think I have a better idea. I’ll just tell you how it all happened as I was told by my grandmother. How does that sound?”
The boy thought hard on it for a moment and nodded rapidly.
<<< “Okay, here’s what happened, ‘A bunch of powerful and terrible men decided they would live forever. They cast a magic spell and it broke the world apart into the skylands and the very spot they were standing when they cast the spell became the Maelstrom’” >>> <this gives away too much in the beginning, see if we can rework it to leave more ambiguity>
Laying down and pulling the covers up over himself Joseph said, “When I grow up I’m going to find those mean old men and beat them up, then the story will end right.”
Standing to go, she leaned over and gave her son a kiss on the forehead, “I’m sure you will.”
Chapter One
Zachary James stared at the Maelstrom from the hurricane-deck of his airship Maryweather, the drone from her paired steamscrews humming pleasantly in his ears. The storm was an ancient and terrible thing, like a hundred thousand hurricanes angrily swirling within the aether; A funnel shaped like a squashed hourglass connected the murky depths below to the ragged, swirling span of clouds high overhead. He was certain to be the only fool to ever venture this close to the awe-inspiring and terrible spectacle - that he had done so at the request of another fool with money made him feel all the more foolish. Bringing his spyglass up to his eye he scanned the horizon near it. A series of smaller storms were spawning off of the larger storm and he was sure they were going to cross his path. He turned to his steward. “Go check the barometer if you would Mr. Gesse. I need to know where it is at and whether it is rising or dropping.” The man twitched a slight nod, remained engrossed by the storm a moment longer and calmly left for below decks.
He then addressed another man coiling rope on the foredeck. “Mr. Christian, would you be so kind as to fetch Mr. Lawrence from the boilers? I need to discuss our fuel situation with him.”
The man waved at him to confirm the order and jogged for the nearest hatchway. Looking back to the Maelstrom, and the smaller storms it was spawning, he wondered whether or not his ship could survive contact with such things. He knew damn well they’d never be able to circumnavigate them on the timetable his patron had given him.
By evening the winds howled around the ship, Zachary could only just stand against some of the heavier gusts. A heavy bass note of engines laboring to make headway had replaced the light treble from earlier. “This is madness!” he called to the helmsman, “the Maelstrom needn’t bother trying to wreck us, we’ll do that for ourselves if we don’t turn out of this.”
The helmsman called back over the gale, “Aye s’ah! Which way do we turn out?” It was all the two of them could do to hold course, the wheel kept trying to tear from their hands, one way then the next. Clouds whipped by both sides of the ship and lightning shot overhead. Zachary yelled back, “We’ll have to watch ourselves, lest we broach and find ourselves inside the Maelstrom itself! Quarter-turn to port as soon as I…”
“That is out of the question!” someone shouted from behind him. Zachary turned around to face the man who had financed this insanity. He had met Professor Evan Moreaux at Abdul only a few weeks before when he had offered him what had sounded like a pretty little exchange: transport him, a colleague, and a cargo to some uncharted skyland that orbited close to the Maelstrom in exchange for what could only be described as a princely sum then and more to follow after the trip was completed. But you had to be alive to spend money.
“Out of the question?” he howled to be heard over the wind. The ship shuddered beneath him and groaned slightly. “The engines are already at full power and we are only just making headway. If we’re not careful we’ll get blown into the Maelstrom and torn apart for sure! It would only mean a slight delay, a day at the most.”
Prof. Moreaux pondered it, pulled what appeared to be a simple pocket watch from his coat, popped it open, and examined it. “No captain, that simply will not do” he said after a moment, “I have already paid you a third what this ship is worth and you assured me that, ‘she could take me right into the heart of the Maelstrom’ if I wished it. We must make that skyland by tomorrow morning, no delays.” He snapped the watch shut and stared into Zachary’s eyes over the reading glasses he held with his left hand as the wind whipped at his long coat.
The ship’s engineer bounded up through the hatch and ran over to the helm where the men were standing. “Captain!” He said breathlessly, “the envelope cover has torn eight feet across forward of bulkhead two. The wind’ll shred the ballyoutes in that area and sink us!” He waited expectantly for a response, his eyes pleaded with Zachary, get us out of here.
Zachary stared back at his friend as the wind tore at the men on the deck. Lightning laced the skies above and below the struggling airship. The sounds of rain, thunder, and wind mixed with the drone of engines and the groan of protesting steel in his ears. His decision was made. “Then get a patching crew and get up there! Don’t waste time telling me about it!”
The engineer looked at him with a shocked expression for a moment before quickly collecting himself and sprinting off down the hatchway, calling to the crew as he went, “Patching kits, on the double! Move it, you louts!”
After he had gone, Zachary addressed the helmsman, “We’re holding course!”
“An excellent decision captain, I knew you would be a man I could trust.” Prof. Moreaux said. He then turned and headed back down the hatchway, calling to his pudgy assistant as he went, “Mr. Pritchard, if you would meet me in the hold, we have much to accomplish before tomorrow.”
This wasn’t about the money any longer; Zachary had to know what was so important on that skyland. It obviously was more valuable than mere money and possibly even the man’s life, and he had to find out why.
<<< They fight their way through the storm during the night >>>
< the next section may become its own Chapter >
Bleary eyed and exhausted, Zachary saw the sun rising from the horizon. It had been an exhausting night for ship and crew, but they had made it. The weather finally behind them, the crew was half-dozing waiting for the inevitable order to stand-down. He looked from the welcome sight of the sun to his helmsman, himself seemingly unfazed though it all. He looked back and all he said was, “Twas a rough night cap’m.”
Zachary couldn’t help but smile, sometimes he swore that the old helmsman had been through so much there was nothing left in the whole sphere that could impress him further. Speaking loudly enough to be overheard, he said, “Mr. Hendruex, when we make the next port the first round is on me, and maybe the second”, while looking around at his exhausted crew.
“I will gladly remind you of it s’ah, though I think most of the younger pups will be eager to be off tah spend the fortune you earned for them last night.” His eyes never left the horizon as he spoke. “Wonder how many will be back on the docks, penniless and looking for work in a years time?” he quietly added.
“As many as wander back to the docks I suppose.” Zachary said, not that he really cared. Money was money, but the skies were always there for those who would brave them. “I’m wondering when a few derelicts will stop cluttering my decks. You worked for my father while he was still alive, and you’re still here. When are you going to enjoy the wealth you’ve earned through the years?”
The helmsman idly ignored the comment, though the look in his eye grew wistful for a moment. Finally, he said, “I’ll stand at my post if it’s all the same to you sa’h.”
“Land-ho!” the cry came from the crow’s nest, “Two-point on the starboard bow!” Leaving the helm, Zachary pulled his spyglass from his jacket and examined their guest’s destination. It was a small lump of a skyland, a spire of rock rising prominently from its center and ringed with dead or dying trees almost all the way to its gravel and rock covered shoreline. An ancient wreck of an airship decorated one side and he could make out peeling gold leaf from the bright work and frameworks jutting from its rotting envelope of what must have been the pride of some fleet during its prime. Its presence added to the ominous feel of the place, even at distance.
“Captain!” Zachary jumped slightly at the voice of his financier, Evan Moreaux, “I must insist that you get this ship out of sight at once!”
“Professor,” Zachary growled as he spoke, “Your presence on my deck is becoming increasingly tiresome. There isn’t a soul on that lump of rock so who in ol’ Hobb’s name are we supposedly hiding from?”
“Captain, please,” fear mixed with irritation played across Evan’s features, “we must be discrete or my journey will be for naught.”
Zachary strode up to Evan, “You sir have been awfully short on explanation. We’ve already weathered a brace of storms that any sane aviator would have sought shelter from, and now you’d risk piling us into some rocks in a fog without so much as a reason as to why.”
Evan stared back coolly, offering no reply.
“I don’t like this at all”, Zachary hissed in a more hushed tone, “You’re asking us to keep taking risks that just don’t make sense.”
Evan’s eyes remain locked on Zachary’s. “Mr. Pritchard, if you would please,” He shouted over his shoulder toward the hatchway.
The standoff dragged on longer, neither man budging. Mr. Christian walked next to his captain and cracked his knuckles, ready to back Zachary should things get ugly. The men slowly became aware of a deep, metallic clanging issuing rhythmically from beneath the deck.
Zachary’s eyes widened, “What did you do? Dammit, what the hell did you do to my ship!”
Evan continued to stare back at him. Zachary took a step back and pointed at Evan, “Mr. Christian, make sure he does not move from that spot!”
Running to the voice tube, Zachary shouted into it, “Mr. Lawrence, what the hell is wrong down there?” The thrumming grew louder, “Mr. Lawrence!”
Mr. Hendreux tried to get Zachary’s attention, “S’ah, it ain’t the ship, it’s something else!”
Zachary not listening, grumbled to himself, “If he’s dozed off again.”
“Captain!” Mr. Christian yelped.
Zachary yelled as loud as he could into the sound-tube’s mouthpiece. “MR. LAWwWwWHAT IN THE NAME OF…”
Zachary’s eyes grew wide and he stumbled backwards. They looked like caricatures of men; each one was six-and-a-half feet tall, made from brass, and was painted to look roughly like a nutcracker. Wisps of steam issued from the tops of their 'hats' and each carried a large-caliber musket. Four of them marched rhythmically out of the hatchway and came to rest in a line just behind where Evan was standing. In unison, they lowered their weapons and took aim on the crew then waited.
“This, this is mutiny Professor Moreaux!” Zachary gasped.
“No my good captain,” Evan said calmly, “This is insurance. Now get us in that fog bank and do what you have to do to see me to my desitnation.”
Chapter Two
<<< stuff happens and Evan leaves the Maryweather along with Mr. Pritchard >>>
“Captain”, Mr. Lawrence broke the uneasy silence, “running at full power all night burned through our coal, we don’t have enough left to get anywhere worth getting to.”
Zachary turned away to look out over the rail at the stands of dead timber on the skyland they had struggled to reach, a look of resignation played across his features.
“Ahhhh, Captain. I don’t want to set one foot on that accursed skyland”, Mr. Lawrence voice trembled with some amount of trepidation. “May be… May be we should set out and try our luck on finding a…”
Zachary turned on him shouting, “Try our luck?! Try. Our. Luck! I don’t know if you’ve noticed it too much Mr. Lawrence but we’ve been pressing our luck pretty thinly these past three days and I will not chance it! Not when there’s timber right here.”
Taking a moment to straighten the collar on his long-coat he continued, “now get your men, get on that hell-born skyland, and cook us up enough charcoal to mix with the good stuff in our bunkers so we CAN get somewhere meaningful.”
Mr. Lawrence bowed his head and mumbled, “yes sir.” He then began to slowly make his way to the hatchway leading below.
Addressing the rest of the men assembled on the foredeck, Zachary continued, “Mr. Gesse, Mr. Christian, Mr. Hendreux, all of you meet me in the armory. And Mr. Lawrence,”
The engineer stopped in the hatchway to look back.
“Stop by the armory yourself before you go. No telling what these squib-suckers will do armed with axes and standing on a skyland that we know they’d rather not be on.” | |
14th November 2008, 07:33 PM
