The Flux Engine (10 page)

Chapter 10

Blood and Sand

Raphael Kest stood on his private balcony high atop the temple of glass and looked out over his city. Panor existed in the bowels of the Icewall, a mile-high glacier more than a hundred miles wide that ran from the ice fields of Northern America all the way to the pole. The city itself occupied the floor of a natural cavern that reminded Kest of nothing so much as an enormous bathtub. Tightly packed buildings jammed the icy floor and ran up the walls in stepped terraces that had been cut from the ice. Diffuse blue light filtered down from the glacier above, giving just enough illumination to reveal the spires and roofs of the city below.

“Excuse me, my lord,” a wheedling voice said from behind him.

None of the priests of the temple would have dared to disturb Kest here; this balcony was part of his private sanctuary, off limits to everyone. Therefore …

“Hello, Carroway,” Kest said with a sigh. He’d been enjoying the quiet solitude until the interruption.

“Forgive me for disturbing you,” Carroway said in an ingratiating tone. “But I bring news that I believe you’ll find interesting.”

Kest doubted that. He turned to find the small, officious-looking man in a green coachman’s coat standing patiently by the door to his chambers. Carroway had a small, bushy mustache that emphasized, rather than distracted from, his too-close-together eyes. The top of his head was bald, running down to a thin band of hair that encircled the back. He carried a small leather-bound book under one arm and a pair of pince-nez spectacles in the other.

“The harbor master just received a docking request from Sira.”

Kest paused, considering the possible implications of the little man’s news.

“Has she been successful then?” He kept his voice flat and even.

“I don’t know, but she is returning ahead of schedule,” Carroway said.

“Bring me my spyglass.”

Carroway reached into his voluminous coat and withdrew a long, leather-wrapped tube.

“I anticipated your need,” he said, handing the spyglass over.

“Was there something else?” Kest asked, briefly scanning the city with the spyglass. It would be several minutes before Sira arrived.

“I have an etheriogram from Derek Morgan,” Carroway said. Kest lowered the glass.

“Read it,” he said without turning.

There was a tearing noise as Carroway opened the brown envelope.

“He says that Sira does, indeed, have the bloodsand stone,” Carroway said, scanning the message. “Morgan interrogated the previous owner, a boy named John Porter, who claimed to have gotten the stone from his mother.”

Kest’s wandering focus snapped back to the conversation.

“His mother?” he asked, turning to the little man.

Carroway shrugged and nodded.

“That’s what it says.”

“Where is this boy now?”

Carroway scanned the paper quickly, muttering to himself as he went. “Here it is. Morgan intended to bring the boy here, but he escaped with the aid of Wild Bill Hickok.”

“Damn it,” Kest sword. “Hickok is working for that flea-bitten psychic in Castle Rock.”

It wasn’t really a question, but Carroway nodded anyway.

“He’ll pull Sira’s image right out of the boy’s head,” he said.

Kest sighed. The psychic was beginning to become a real problem.

“Is there anything else?”

“Morgan asks if you wish him to go after Hickok and attempt to retrieve or kill the boy?”

“Tell him to use his own discretion,” Kest said, turning back to look out over the city.

He heard the door open and close as Carroway left, then Kest raised the spyglass to his eye. He focused on the far end of the cavern where a dark opening yawned in the wall. The natural fissure beyond ran for over a mile to the edge of the icewall itself, where a projected illusion hid the entrance. Even as he watched, Kest could see the marker lights wink on, illuminating the entrance tunnel. A tiny, one-man airship emerged a moment later, turning gracefully over the city, heading for the Temple docks.

A wide shelf ran around the upper part of the cavern, supporting the long frameworks of skydocks that jutted out over the city. A dozen different airships were moored in various places, bobbing in the air as crews moved cargo into and out of their holds. Beyond the docks, warehouses and other storage spaces had been cut into the glacier, served by a small rail system that circled the cavern like a belt.

Kest lowered his spyglass, looking over the balcony railing as Sira guided her airship into an open slip several stories below. A crew of initiates from the Temple swarmed over the little boat as soon as it docked, tying it off and dropping a heavy, wooden gangplank in place.

He turned from the scene before Sira emerged. He mustn’t seem too anxious. His position as Shokhlar, the living prophet of the Mimbrae people, required a certain amount of dispassionate reserve.

He crossed the little balcony and went back inside, to his office. Paneling of polished cherry covered the walls, running from the main door, around the circular room, to a raised platform at the far end that held his massive desk. He crossed to the desk and sat down, straightening up the various stacks of reports, notes, and communiqués. It wouldn’t do to receive the crystal he’d spent so long seeking with a messy desk. The proprieties must be observed. He had just finished when there was a knock at the door.

“That was fast,” he said to himself. To the door, he said, “Come.”

The initiate outside opened the door. Sira stood outside, flushed and disheveled, but beaming. She must have run the entire way from the docks. Before the young man had the door all the way open, she brushed past him and advanced on Kest’s desk.

“Shokhlar,” she said, kneeling before the dais that held his desk. “I have returned, and I have performed the task you gave me.”

She held out her hands, revealing a small red crystal.

Despite himself, Kest held his breath, not daring to speak. He’d spent a decade hunting for it and now, at last, it was within his grasp. He waved her forward, and Sira darted up to the dais, depositing the crystal in Kest’s outstretched hand.

It was smaller than he had expected, almost delicate.

“Tell me how you found it, Sira,” he said. “Leave nothing out.”

Sira stood before his desk and recounted her tale of tracking the crystal to Sprocketville, then getting a lucky break when the boy who had it had used it, leading her right to its hiding place. When she finished, Kest reexamined the crystal.

“You have done well, Sira,” he said. She glowed with pride and bowed to him again. “Now, let’s see about this crystal,” he said.

Sira’s face fell. Kest had forgotten how fanatical she was.

“It’s been a long time since I last saw this crystal,” he explained. “We must see if it still retains its properties. The boy could have damaged it.”

“Yes, Shokhlar,” she said, mollified.

Kest moved around his massive desk to a series of cabinets that lined the back wall, reaching for their doors. Behind one set of doors, a large metal device with many crystals, arms, and clockwork mechanisms squatted like a giant glittering insect. He placed the crystal into one of the outstretched arms, then pulled a lever on the device’s side. The cogs and gears began to turn as the device came up to speed, then suddenly the crystal began to sing.

Kest closed his eyes and listened as the sound echoed throughout the room. It reverberated off the paneled walls and echoed back from the marble floor. After a moment, the song was picked up by the crystals in the machine, rising and blending into complex harmony.

It was a sound of joy, of life, of pure creation, and Kest reveled in it.

The spring powering the machine wound down, sending the music sliding into a cacophony of atonal sounds as it lost energy. But even after the noise had ceased, its memory seemed to echo through the room.

“Thank you, Sira,” he said, turning back to her. “You have done our people a great service.”

She knelt before him, pressing her forehead to the floor.

“I live to serve, my lord.”

“Rise then, for you have done so,” he said. “I will be going to the airship immediately. Take time to refresh yourself, then join me aboard in the crystal chamber.”

“Yes, my lord,” Sira said, then stood, bowed again, and withdrew. As she went out, Carroway came back in, pushing the door closed after her.

“I’ve sent your reply to Morgan,” he said. “Did Sira find the right crystal?”

“Of course she did,” Kest replied. “I’d know it anywhere. You can practically hear it vibrating without the machine.”

“And what of the boy Morgan mentioned?” Carroway said. “Do you really believe dear Lissa had a child?”

“It’s possible.” Kest shrugged.

“Not yours, is he?”

“No,” Kest said. “Lissa and I were never that close.”

“Do you think she’s still alive?” Carroway asked.

“Why would the boy have it if she were?” He shrugged.

Carroway nodded but said nothing. Kest sat heavily in his overstuffed chair, holding the crystal up to the light.

“Go tell Captain Raff to stoke the boilers,” Kest said. “Once I install this in the Flux engine, I want to get under way.”

Carroway smiled but didn’t move. “I suspect the good captain will be thrilled to learn that the restoration of his homeland is at hand. Never mind the fact that his ancestors lived in the Mississippi Valley, not out in the salt flats of Desert Star.”

Kest laughed.

“Yes, I suspect Captain Raff would disapprove of our plan if he knew the truth.”

“It simply amazes me how easily you’ve turned these people’s faith into a weapon that serves your own ends,” Carroway said. “I wonder how they’d react if they knew who you really are—what you really are.”

Kest ground his teeth in irritation. The little man was absolutely insufferable.

“Get to your point, Carroway.”

“I’m just wondering when we are going to get rid of these religious fanatics,” he said. “Sooner or later one of them is going to catch on to you and then the jig will be up. We’ll be lucky to escape with our lives.”

“Listen to me carefully, Carroway,” Kest said, his voice dropping to a menacing whisper. “They’re never going to find out the truth. I’m going to have them marching along beside me all the way, till I’m the sole Lord of the entire Earth.”

“I don’t understand why you want it,” Carroway said, inspecting his cuticles. “Ruling the world takes effort; there’s always some upstart or other you’ve got to keep in line. On the other hand, once you have the source of Red Sand, all the world will beat a path to your door for it and pay you outrageously to get it. You’ll have all the wealth and power you could want without the headaches of running the world.”

“You’re right,” Kest said. “You don’t understand.” He stood up and began to pace. “Every day people go about their lives doing whatever they think is best for them. The problem is that most of them are too stupid or too ignorant to know what’s best.”

“I suppose that’s where you come in,” Carroway said.

“Who better than the finest mind on Earth to tell people what’s best? I’m the greatest Architect the world has ever known,” Kest said. “There’s a reason the Builder blessed Architects with superior intellect, Carroway. It’s so we can help those lesser lights among us to live happy, productive lives. Look around you. The world is full of conflict, strife, inequity, and war—all because people make poor decisions. The war between Britannia and the Colonies destroyed the entire east coast. The Lantians destroyed the Aztecs and then themselves. All these things could have been avoided if lesser men would simply yield to their betters.”

“Ah, but can you make them yield? That’s the real question.”

Kest dropped back into his chair.

“Some will have to be made to see the light,” he admitted. “Others will follow my vision willingly. You saw Sira just now,” he went on. “There’s nothing she wouldn’t do if I commanded her.”

“In that case, Raphael, I have a—request,” Carroway said. “That girl. When you come into your power, I want her.”

“She’d kill you.”

“Surely not if the great and exalted Shokhlar commanded it.” Carroway feigned shock.

“Fine,” Kest said. “Whatever will make you happy, Carroway.”

“I live to serve you.” Carroway smiled a sardonic, mocking smile and bowed.

“Speaking of which,” Kest said sharply, standing up again to make his point, towering intimidatingly over the little man. “I believe you were on your way to the Captain—to inform him we’re getting underway. Have him assemble his senior officers in the crystal chamber, then meet me there.”

Carroway turned back to the door, his self-satisfied smile still firmly in place.

“Anything else?”

“Yes,” Kest said. “Summon the high priests from the temple to the crystal chamber as well. I want this moment to be—memorable.”

“I’ll see to it,” Carroway said, then slipped out into the hall beyond.

Kest watched him go, keeping his eyes on the door long after Carroway had gone. The little man was irritating but he definitely had his uses. Without his intimate knowledge of the Mimbrae and their legends, Kest would never have been able to insert himself into their society. Carroway’s help made controlling the Mimbrae easy.

Easy was good.

Chapter 11

Rise of the Flux Engine

Kest put the bloodsand crystal in the pocket of his waistcoat, then stood and donned his bottle-green overcoat. Green was the official color of the Mimbrae priesthood. It reminded them of the green, growing things they had lost when the Lantians forced them to flee north.

Kest rather liked it.

He left his office and descended a long spiral stair to the main floor of the Temple, then out into the frigid air of Panor. The Temple was on the upper shelf, above the city proper, and the rail line ran along in front between the building and the skydocks.

Before he got anywhere near the little station with its raised platform, the attendant initiate lit the signal lamp, a glowing red beacon on the end of the platform. A small pony engine pulling a passenger car and two flatcars pulled into the platform as he arrived.

“I need you to take me to the shipyards,” he said to the engineer as he boarded.

“At once, Shokhlar.” The man nodded, doffing his cap respectfully. He called a warning and the train shuddered, jerking forward into clattering motion. As it picked up speed, he tugged on the steam whistle, blowing two short blasts. At the corner, where the track turned to continue around the shelf above Panor, a switchman moved a lever that would divert the train toward the shipyards.

A few moments later the train turned away from the city, and plunged into a tunnel of ice. Some light from the world above managed to filter down through the soot-stained walls of the glacial tunnel, giving the surroundings a bluish glow that was enough to see by. Intense cold washed over the open car and Kest pulled his coat tightly around him. Ice caves could be surprisingly warm if there was a heat source present, but there wasn’t anything in the empty darkness of the tunnel to keep the glacier’s power at bay. For a fleeting moment, Kest envied the engineer, standing over the locomotive’s firebox.

The train raced on through the semidarkness while the bitter cold soaked into Kest’s bones. Finally light flared around the engine and the tunnel suddenly fell away. The steel wheels rattled over a trestle bridge, carrying the little train over a wide natural chasm hundreds of feet deep.

The railroad bridge divided the shipyards roughly in half. On the left side, a dozen docks were working, assembling the polished ribs of new airships.

Only one ship occupied the right side of the shipyard—but what a ship it was. Kest had named her the
Vengeance
, for she would be the means of restoring the Mimbrae people to their rightful place in the world.

It had taken almost ten years to build her. Seven decks high and over three hundred yards long, it was bigger than anything that ever flew. His engineers told him it would never fly. A lift engine could only raise so much mass, they said, and it was impossible to synchronize multiple lifters at once. An airship could only have one lifter and the biggest lift engine ever built couldn’t raise a tenth of the weight of the
Vengeance
.

He knew better. The only thing he needed to make the
Vengeance
fly was the crystal that now resided in his waistcoat pocket.

The train shuddered as the engineer throttled back and a minute later it lurched to a stop at the shipyard station. Kest disembarked and strode to the gantry that descended from an open hatch in the airship’s side. A guard in a green coat stood at the base of the ramp and he saluted as Kest passed.

At the top of the ramp stood a short, solidly built man in a white military uniform. He had a thin, angular face with a long jaw and pointed chin. A piercing blue eye looked out from beneath a bushy, graying eyebrow, the other eye being covered by a black patch. His hair and trimmed beard had gone salt-and-pepper, showing both the vitality of youth and the cunning of age.

“Carroway sent word you were coming, my lord,” he said. “Welcome aboard.”

“Thank you, Captain,” Kest said, stepping off the ramp and clasping the man by the hand.

“He suggested that I should stoke the boilers since we are about to launch,” the Captain said with a raised eyebrow.

Captain Wesley Raff had earned his sky legs running cargo for the Mimbrae. He’d mastered every kind of airship that flew, from civilian transports to freight haulers to warships. Wesley Raff had forgotten more about sailing the skies than most men would ever know, and Captain Wesley Raff knew for a fact that nothing as big as the
Vengeance
could fly.

“Just so, Captain,” Kest said, pulling the red crystal from his waistcoat. “With this crystal, the output of the Flux Engine will be increased tenfold. That’s not just lifting capacity, that’s its range as well.”

Raff looked unconvinced.

“If you say so, my lord,” he said. “Where shall we set course?”

“The grazing plains of northern Larado,” Kest said as he led the captain along the hall. “We need to demonstrate our power, to show the Colonials that we mean business.”

“Won’t that just give the Colonials time to mobilize against us?”

“The war with Britannia was costly,” Kest said in answer. “The Alliance was forced to move their entire population to the west to survive. They still haven’t recovered fully. On top of that, they’ve been exploiting their territories the same way Britannia did to them, bleeding them of resources to build up their infrastructure at home. There’s open talk of civil war in some of the more remote places.”

“How does that help us?”

“Simply put, the Colonial Alliance cannot afford a war right now. Oh, they’ll fight one if they have to, but they’ll do whatever they need to do in order to avoid one. Once they understand the power of this airship, they’ll be more than happy to give away an insignificant piece of barren desert in exchange for peace.”

Captain Raff stopped suddenly, forcing Kest to step around him. He turned to regard Kest, ramrod straight in his crisp uniform.

“I spoke out against the building of this airship,” he said. “I felt we’d be better served with a fleet of smaller ships and I made no attempt to be subtle with my opinions. Now we stand on the verge of accomplishing our goals. I should never have doubted you, sir.”

Kest clapped the man on the shoulder, knocking his epaulette askew.

“Keep right on doubting, Captain,” he said. “I need grounded men of sense to keep me on course.”

They continued down the corridor, Raff trying to straighten his epaulette, until they reached a large door. A brass plate mounted on the wall read
Crystal Chamber
.

The door opened into the central engine room. The
Vengeance
had three engine rooms, one on each side of the ship to drive the great propellers, and this one amidships. The other rooms were littered with boilers, steam lines, coal belts and drive pistons as big around as a man and four times as tall. Only one machine occupied the central engine room, but what a machine it was. It held thousands of crystals of every shape and size, each positioned so their harmonic fields could interact with the others. The bigger crystals were mounted on gears or rotating rods so they could move through the machine as it turned. Smaller crystals adorned pedestals, gears, cogs, and wheels, mounted and synchronized to move in unison, blending their harmonies into one massive chord of incredible power.

It was a masterwork device, possibly the most complex crystal device ever built.

Insulated steam lines ran from the boilers on either side of the crystal chamber, feeding the main drive piston of the crystal device as well as a dozen smaller pistons mounted throughout the Flux Engine’s superstructure.

A thousand-gallon tank of iridescent blue flux hung, suspended, over the array. Dozens of brass tubes ran from the tank to nozzles, positioned to spray the crystals with flux to keep them energized as they moved.

The Flux Engine was an engineering marvel and Kest loved the sight of it. Not even the vanished Lantians had attempted such a device. Only he had the vision and the daring to accomplish it.

Two dozen figures were gathered around the inert engine, gazing in wonder at its beauty and complexity. Half of the crowd was dressed in military uniforms, the other half wore the green robes of the Temple. Kest could see Sira among them, plainly evident by her diminutive stature.

As Kest and the Captain entered the room, the buzz of conversation died down. A man in a greasy boiler suit hurried over to greet them. He took Kest’s hand with his dirty one and shook it vigorously. Despite his disheveled appearance, Kest had personally selected him for the task of Chief Engineer aboard the
Vengeance
. Bertram Greene was quite simply the best crystal engine mechanic the Mimbrae had produced in a generation.

“Shokhlar,” Bertram said. “You honor my engine room.”

“It’s you who honor me, Chief,” Kest said, wiping the grease from his hand with a handkerchief from his coat pocket. “Your engine room is in perfect order. Are we ready?”

The Chief nodded, his head bobbing like a cork on the ocean. Kest held up the crystal so the greasy man could see it.

“Open her up, Chief.”

Bertram turned to a nearby panel on which was a lock. He spun the combination with practiced ease, then pulled open a maintenance panel on the wall, revealing a short lever attached to a steam valve. Donning a heavy leather glove from his pocket, Chief Greene grasped the iron lever and pulled hard. The valve hissed as blistering steam rushed through it, filling the line beyond and pushing against a series of pistons. The Flux Engine shuddered and broke apart as the pistons pulled its various components away from the center, opening the crystal lattice like a flower.

A round mounting plate stood at the heart of the Flux Engine, held off the floor by a crooked pipe that bent and twisted to avoid the spinning crystals when the engine moved. Without waiting for the pistons to stop moving, Kest strode into the machine, ducking under a still-shifting rod arm on his way to the pedestal. The bloodsand crystal dropped neatly into a hollowed-out depression in the mounting plate. A brass clamp went around the crystal’s middle like a belt, held in place by a wingnut that Kest tightened gently.

His hands trembled.

The design of the Flux Engine had come to him years ago. He’d gone over his figures hundreds of times, checked his schematics over and over till every detail was perfect. Despite all that, however, it all came down to this. This one moment. It would work, he knew it would, but he could feel his stomach churning nonetheless.

Taking a breath to steady his nerves, Kest exited the device and stood between Sira and the Captain as the crystal device moved back into place. He gazed at the collage of crystals for a long moment, knowing there was nothing more he could do. When he turned back to the crowd, he found the assembled officers and priests waiting patiently, all eyes on him.

“My friends,” he began. “This is an historic moment, one that will be remembered by our people throughout all time. This is not the first step on our journey to reclaim our birthright; we took that step ten years ago when the keel of this great airship was laid. No, today we take the final steps that will lead us to our destiny.”

He spoke to them familiarly, as friends rather than subordinates.

“A thousand years ago, the Lantians destroyed our people,” he said. “They attacked us without provocation and hunted us without mercy. We were the Jaguar priests then, keepers of the culture of the Aztecs. When we fled, we were refugees. Now we are survivors.

“We have done our duty, and kept the fires of tradition alive. We didn’t just survive here, we thrived.

“The Builder has made us strong. He has given us the strength to regain our homeland and now the time has at long last come.”

Cheers went up from the crowd.

“The Builder has made us strong,” Kest repeated. “But he has also made us wise. We do not set forth to conquer. We only want what is ours, and with the aid of the Builder and the
Vengeance
, we will have it.

“Our time has come, my brothers and sisters. The restoration of our birthright is at hand. Let everyone among you do their duty, and we shall prevail.”

As the crowd erupted into cheers and applause, Kest pointed at Bertram Greene. The Chief Engineer pulled a waist-high lever and the steam engines that drove the crystal device began to turn, driving the main piston back and forth. The gears and cogs in the crystal lattice jerked and began to turn and whirl, faster and faster as the piston gathered speed. When the Chief was satisfied that the piston was going fast enough, he pulled a lever on the panel, releasing the flux from the suspended tank.

Kest watched as the thick liquid made its way down the tubes, eventually reaching the brass nozzles and spraying out in a fine mist. As soon as the mist hit the whirling crystals they erupted with light, pulsing brighter and brighter.

The light washed over Kest like a wave, forcing him to shield his eyes with his hand. A fire erupted in his chest, resonating with the pulsing light from the crystals. The power of the flux engine was overwhelming, the force of pure creation, of the Builder’s infinite energy.

A moment later the deck shook violently, sending some of the onlookers to their knees. All around them the massive airship creaked and groaned as it tore free from the bonds of gravity, rising slowly off the mounts that had been home since its birth.

Kest turned from the light to face the crowd, raising his arms in triumph.

“Brothers and sisters,” he yelled over the sound of the engine. “I give you … the Flux Engine.”