Shadow of the War Machine (The Secret Order) (12 page)

BOOK: Shadow of the War Machine (The Secret Order)
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“When Edgar took over the project, the tunnel was finally finished, and even the track were laid. But with Edgar’s murder during those dark times, everyone went into hiding and the tunnel was never revealed.”

“But it was completed?” I asked. “There’s a way through?”

“Oh, the tunnel went through all right. Unfortunately, it’s been, what? Five years now? No one knows the condition of the tunnel or the tracks. I was given the task of inspecting them come springtime, but they are likely in a sad state of repair.”

“Is there any other way we could get to France?” Will asked.

John let out a heavy sigh. “Not if you need to get there quickly.”

“We only have until the New Year to discover what happened to my grandfather.” I needed some other way to convince him. “If we find him, he will become head of the Order when Octavian steps down. If we don’t find him, chances are likely the Earl of Strompton will take his place.”

John’s entire demeanor changed. “That pup knows nothing. His arrogance is as bad as his father’s was. He won’t heed the concerns of the Guild. He treats us all as if we were his personal footmen.” John watched the fire a moment, then turned and considered me. “If Henry is not found, the next head of the Order might be you.”

“I sincerely doubt the others would allow that. But if it should happen, wouldn’t it be lovely to have me in your eternal
debt?” I gave him my most winning smile. “And should we find my grandfather, wouldn’t it be even more lovely to have him owe you a favor?”

John chuckled, then spoke to Will. “Be careful with this one. She’s dangerous.” He rose and dumped a kettle of water over the fire. The flames hissed as they died in a plume of curling smoke. “Very well. I like to get ahead on large projects. We can inspect the track together. I’ll take you as far as I can, but I can’t guarantee we’ll make it through.”

I rose with Will, my excitement carrying me forward. I almost didn’t hear John whisper as he lit a lamp, “That is, if we even survive.”

CHAPTER ELEVEN

WE FOLLOWED JOHN INTO A
narrow passage and then down a long spiraling stair. It ended at the large dock chamber deep beneath the ground in the catacombs.

I had been here before when the steamship from the Foundry had docked to make deliveries to the Academy, but I had never seen the chamber so dark. The light from John’s lantern seemed lost in the enormity of the room. The hull of the steamship rose out of the darkness like a mountain above a black fog.

Faint memories of being attacked in this place came back to me, and suddenly I felt wary. I curled my hand into a tight fist to soothe the memory of the injury I had sustained in my attempt to escape.

Will moved closer to me but stayed a step behind, so I could walk between both men. It was such a small gesture, but it meant I didn’t need to worry about being grabbed from behind.

To one side of the massive lock was a canal with a gondola floating on the black water. A man in a long dark cloak stooped in the back of the narrow vessel. The light from the swinging lantern flashed over his face, and I saw clockwork gears embedded in his cheek.

I screamed.

Will immediately pulled a knife and put an arm in front of me.

“Hey, now. No need for that,” John said, jumping into the boat. “Charon isn’t going to hurt you. He only looks like death.” John reached over and knocked on the cloaked figure’s face. I heard the distinctive
ting, ting, ting
of metal beneath the hood of the black cloak. The cloaked figure didn’t move.

Oh, thank goodness. It was an automaton.

Once the panic receded, I realized the mechanical ferryman was leaning on a large oar. The passageway was arched overhead, but the ceiling felt so low, I ducked as I took John’s hand and he helped me into the boat.

“This tunnel used to be used for overflow from the
lock,” he said. “When the Amusementists rebuilt the catacombs, I suggested they extend the tunnel so the Guild could use it.”

Will took the seat beside me as John climbed out, untied the moorings, and then turned a large wheel next to the dock. He pulled hard on a lever, then jumped back into the boat.

It tipped, and I held on to both rails to steady myself as the boat rocked back and forth, then lurched forward. The swell of water from the bow slapped against the stone docks in waves. The ferryman behind us silently pushed the boat through the canal with his long oar. I could feel the ominous machine hovering over my shoulders, and it kept me ill at ease.

I had known too many automatons, and the ones based on Greek mythology tended to be dangerous. Despite my reservations, the ferryman of the dead managed to behave himself.

The boat came to a stop, drifting up against a second dock. It hadn’t been a long trip, only long enough perhaps to cross beneath the Thames. I liked to think we hadn’t crossed the Styx.

Will helped me out of the boat, and we found ourselves at a large door that was covered over with heavy steel bars, gears, and metal plates. I peeked back over my shoulder, and Charon lifted his hand in a slow wave.

I didn’t wish to linger another moment.

John turned a second wheel at the dock and switched the lever, sending Charon and the boat back the way it had come.

John pressed his hands to certain square plates on the door and slid them along the face, winding and turning the gears as the plates passed in a deliberate pattern. He brought each plate to the center and locked them together like puzzle pieces until the entire door seemed as if it were whirring and spinning.

Once the plates had come together, large bracing bars retracted from the wall and the door swung open under its own power. “This way,” John said, lifting his lantern and swinging it as he stepped through the doorway. As I passed through, I glanced over and noticed that the door itself had to be at least a foot thick.

As soon as we were through, it swung closed behind us, sealing us in a long tunnel with only John’s swinging lantern to guide us. I could hear the rats screeching in the dark, darting into holes in the mortar as soon as the light reached them, only to scuttle out again once we had passed.

The tunnel itself desperately needed repair. It reeked of mold, and shattered bricks that had fallen from the wall or the ceiling littered the floor. Our footsteps echoed in the endless dark.

“I asked Octavian if we could install braziers down this corridor, but he said there was no need. Hardly anyone uses it,” John said, his deep voice filling the darkness and briefly silencing the rats. Perhaps it was best if we continued to talk.

“Where does it lead?” Will asked, taking a chunk of brick from the ground and throwing it as hard as he could down the passage in front of us. It clattered in the darkness, scattering the rats. He squeezed my hand, then threw a chunk of brick again. He knew I hated rats.

“We used this tunnel to help smuggle some of the membership into the Academy during conflicts between England and their homelands. Before we built the canal, we had to climb a stair and then ferry members across the river. It was risky. No one wanted to be caught in the company of a foreigner in a time of war. Being convicted of espionage and consorting with the enemy would mean the hangman’s noose. Keep up. We’ve a long way yet.” John marched along, though I hadn’t the slightest idea how he could figure how far we had walked.

I didn’t wish to linger on discussions of treason to the Crown for being a part of the Order, so I changed the subject. “You said you knew my grandfather.”

John didn’t take his eyes off the unchanging dark before us, but he answered. “Well enough. He was always involved when land for various projects was being prepared for a build. That’s part of why . . .” He looked at me then, the whites of his dark eyes catching the light of the lantern.

“What?” I asked.

“I can’t say.” He returned his attention to the tunnel again as if he had never said a word to begin with.

“You were about to say it was part of why he worked on the machine his mentor built.” I didn’t want to say Richard Haddock’s name. He had the Black Mark. Breaking the rules of the Order in front of an important Guild member didn’t seem wise. “From what I read, my grandfather’s mentor tried to defend himself by saying the machine was intended to clear land. Do you know anything more about it?”

“I know we’re not supposed to speak of it, not even here in a tunnel where no one could possibly overhear us. Do you understand?” It was a clear warning, and I heeded it.

“Did Henry Whitlock have anyone else who might have been considered an enemy?” Will asked. His question surprised me only for a moment. He was as determined to get to the bottom of the mystery as I was.

“Henry burned a lot of bridges.” John glanced at me
again, considered what he wished to say, then spoke. “A lot of beautiful bridges.”

I felt heat rise to my cheeks. This was not the first time I had heard of my grandfather’s dalliances in his youth. This was not proper discussion when a lady was present.

“Would any of those bridges have resulted in a duel?” Will asked.

“The only man who had enough reason to draw pistols at dawn met his end before he could.” John didn’t seem concerned. “Once your grandfather married, he behaved as an honorable husband should.”

“Well, that is wonderful to hear,” I mumbled. “Is there any other reason someone might wish him captured?”

“Captured, no,” John said. “It’s possible someone might wish him dead because of his position within the Order, but there would be no point in capturing him and keeping him alive.”

I felt as if John had dropped a brick into my innards. The man in the clockwork mask had implied that my grandfather was still alive. He acted as if he needed my grandfather for some task. It was my only hope.

Clinging to that hope, I walked faster. It was difficult work keeping pace with the men. They had much longer legs and weren’t wearing skirts that weighed nearly forty stone.
We had been walking for a dreadfully long time. It felt as if we could have been halfway to Dover by now. We had to have traveled a couple of miles at least.

“Could someone have taken Henry because they needed his knowledge as an Amusementist? Perhaps they needed him to unlock something,” Will said.

“That is a possibility.” John lifted his lantern and squinted his eyes. “The Amusementists have many things stored away and hidden, even from each other, but we don’t make a habit of locking the Amusements that have been retired, in case someone wishes to borrow parts or study them.”

The darkness opened up to an enormous cavern that devoured the light from the lantern. In the deep shadows I could see corroded forms in metal. They waited quietly in the dark: great, terrible beasts and monsters silently watching in the shadows. John lifted the lantern higher. “Take your pick of any of these, for example.”

“What is this place?” I asked, stepping out toward the enormous cavern. John grabbed my arm and pulled me back.

“It’s an elephant graveyard.” He pointed the lantern toward a new tunnel passage ahead of us. “Where old Amusements go to die. Most of the ones you can see are from the old World’s Fair competitions.”

The darkness made a cruel game of my curiosity. It tempted me with glimpses of finely crafted metal, the occasional stare of a polished eye. It wasn’t nearly enough. Exploring machines with my own hands was far more enlightening than studying drawings of them, and this was a treasure trove of inspiration. “Where are we exactly?” I asked, hoping perhaps I could find a way to sneak back in with my grandfather’s key at a later date.

“Beneath the Royal Observatory,” John answered even as we entered the new tunnel.

Of course. There was a large hill in Greenwich Park. The observatory perched on top of it. It had access to the river and yet was far enough from the center of London to keep from prying eyes. It was the perfect place to hide things.

We entered the new tunnel and made a gradual turn to the right. This tunnel was much wider than the first, and taller. It must have been an access tunnel to the chamber, large enough to move the Amusements to their resting place.

“And here we are,” John announced. He placed the lantern on the ground and rubbed his hands together. “Will, if you would, the flint wheel lever is right over there.”

Will grasped the lever and pulled it. The raspy whirring
from the wheels filled the silence even as the sparks drove back the persistent darkness.

“Oh my word,” I whispered as I blinked from the new flood of light. Before us stood the most exquisite locomotive I had ever seen. A normal locomotive was elegant and complicated enough, but this machine took craft and design to a new level.

Dark copper and bright gold shone through the thin layer of dust and cobwebs that wove among the thick spokes. The drive wheels were taller than I was, with caps larger than my head. Just above the wheels, huge gears wove their thick teeth into the axles and pistons. I ducked down to take a look at the underside of the engine.

I had seen mature trees with less girth in their trunks than the width of the axles. Each part, each gear, each rod, seamlessly came together in a puzzle so intricate and wonderful, I could have stared for a million years and still have something new to see.

“I love this so much,” I mumbled to myself as I lifted my head, eager to climb into the locomotive to see how it functioned.

John and Will had gone to the back of the chamber and together turned a wheel. It connected to a machine that took
up most of the back wall, save the tunnel that led to another large shadowy chamber. I wondered where it led, possibly to a turntable for the engine. A rattling and clanking racket filled the room as I hurried over to them.

Even beneath his heavy winter coat, I could see the power in Will’s back and shoulders as he threw all his strength into turning the wheel. It was a sight to behold, and I felt myself flush.

“Meg, once this is taut, throw the switch there,” Will said, his words coming out in puffs through his exertion.

Soon the wheel ground to a halt, and both Will and John grimaced and shouted in their efforts. It took all of my weight to pull down against the switch, but when it finally set into place, the men let go of the wheel.

BOOK: Shadow of the War Machine (The Secret Order)
11.95Mb size Format: txt, pdf, ePub
ads

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