Clockwork Twist : Waking (6 page)

In the morning, Twist awoke to find a huge, sapphire sea stretched out below his windows while the airship sped quickly through a clear and empty blue sky.  For many reasons, the events of the day before were a jumbled blur in his mind.  Some of it was so strange to him that he wondered if it wasn't all just a fractured dream.

He was only partly dressed when Arabel knocked on his door.  He quickly threw a waistcoat over his mostly buttoned shirt, and made sure his trousers were properly fastened, before he opened the door just enough to peer out.

“Are you only just getting up?” Arabel asked, looking at the sliver of him that she could see. “You missed breakfast, so I was coming to invite you to lunch.”

“I’m sorry,” he muttered, glancing down at himself.  A draft at his throat caught his attention and he reached up to finish buttoning his collar. “I've never been very good with time.”

“You?” Arabel asked, almost laughing. “I thought your spent all you time with clocks.”

Twist's mouth twitched with annoyance as he fastened the last button.  No one ever missed that parallel.  To his shock, Arabel seemed to take his moment of distraction as an invitation.  She nudged his door open while his hands were occupied and let herself into his cabin.  Twist backed away instantly, then turned his back to hurriedly tuck his shirt into his trousers.  Arabel shut the door behind her.

“I mean, really,” she went on easily, “I'd expect you to be practically obsessed with time.”

“I never read clocks,” he said, running his hands through his mess of hair to little effect.  He turned to face her stiffly, hoping that he now looked at least slightly presentable, and found her leaning against his closed door with a smile that looked somehow out of place on her face. “I just like the way they work.  They're calm and constant.”

“You're not having that much fun on this trip, are you?” Arabel asked, almost softly.  Twist looked back at her silently and wondered why she was so intent on being in his cabin.  He'd never read of a woman so brazen in any of his novels.  She seemed to wait for his reply.

“I'm not here to have fun,” Twist answered finally. “I'm just trying to stay somewhere near sane until we get to Nepal,” he said and looked away to see where his scarf had gotten to.  To his complete surprise, Arabel took hold of the front of his unbuttoned waistcoat and caught his full attention in the process.

“As much as you might like to think so, you're not a machine, love,” Arabel said, her voice cold under tiring pleasantries. “Your heart doesn't tick, does it?” she asked, giving his chest a glance.  Twist felt it beat faster under her attention.

“Mine probably does, actually” Twist said, jerking his waistcoat out of her grasp and taking another step away. “What difference does it make to you, anyway?  We only just met.  You don't even know me.  Why must you demand that I enjoy myself?”

Arabel held his sharp gaze with a sternness of her own. “I hate to see anyone bottle themselves up.  It doesn't matter who you are, it's not healthy.”

“I'm quite all right,” Twist said, buttoning his waistcoat. “I haven't been this far away from home in my life, and I'm letting you drag me around, to some extent.  Believe me, that's much more than I would usually allow.”

“Then why are you
allowing
it now?” Arabel asked as if the words tasted sour.

Twist took a breath in silent pause.  The world seemed to still in the light of his answer. “You are my only way to her.”

“A girl made of clockwork,” Arabel said coldly, nodding curtly. “I imagine she would be your vision of female perfection.”

Twist stared at her clearly offended expression in bewilderment.  He felt a confusion and fear that he couldn't identify, and sensed that he needed to do something, quickly.  What needed to be done, however, was totally beyond his comprehension.

“Well, shall we go eat?”  Arabel took an impatient breath and gave him a tight, thin smile.

Twist went with her and met the others, not wanting to anger her further.  Today, everyone seemed to have returned to their usual carefree selves, even after the hasty flight from Venice.  Though there had been light cloud cover through the night, and there was still a large bank of clouds sitting on the horizon to the north, there had been no evidence of any other airships following their path over the Black Sea.  Aazzi had finally lifted the extra security, and the crew had begun to relax shortly after sunrise.  By now, they seemed to have all but forgotten about it.

“Besides,” Zayle explained to Twist over a hearty lunch, “it's likely that Quay was in Venice by sheer coincidence.”

“Lots of people go there for carnival,” Aazzi said with a nod.

“If they weren't looking for us,” Zayle continued, “then they might not have any idea that we were even there.”

“We're too far away now, as well,” Capt. Davis said, inspecting his half eaten chicken leg. “Quay has no idea where we're headed.  Without that, all he could possibly know is that we stopped in Venice for the festivities and left.”

“Why George?” Twist asked.

“What?” Zayle asked.

“Why did you call me George?” Twist asked, leaning forward on the table. “You all suddenly decided to change my name.  Why?”

“In case someone heard us talking,” Dr. Rodés said. “We decided on the story when we picked you up, in case we had to hide you.”

“Why hide me at all?” Twist asked. “How would it be dangerous for someone to know my name?”

“Quay has powerful friends,” Arabel said darkly. “Magical ones too.”  Twist gave her an incredulous look.  Arabel leaned closer, speaking more earnestly. “They have ways of knowing things that they shouldn't.  Simply hearing your real name could put you in danger.  Besides, there are rumors about you all over,” she added, as if he should have known.

“I have a reputation out of London?” Twist asked, frowning at the thought.

“Well, yeah,” Arabel said easily. “But if anyone knew that we went all the way to London to get you, they might be able to figure out at least what we are after.  Quay knows us too well.  He'd certainly be able to figure it out.”

“So, you frequently cross the world looking for mechanical people?” Twist asked.

“We hunt treasure of all kinds,” Capt. Davis said. “But mechanical people is a new one.”

“Once I found out she was real,” Arabel said, smiling to herself, “I just had to see her.”

“Ara usually brings us our best finds,” Capt. Davis said, looking at his niece fondly.

The lunch continued at a casual pace.  Once everyone was finished eating, they drifted off to attend to various tasks, leaving Twist on his own once again.  He took up his now favorite place, at the bow of the ship, and watched as the Black Sea glided along, underneath him.  Eventually, the sea came to an end in a mountainous, green country.  Clouds still lingered to the north, while vast copper and gold deserts stretched to the southern horizon.

Twist let his over-taxed mind drift in the cool air, gazing out at the next large body of water that approached from the distance.  His thoughts found their way back to his home in London, now almost half a world away as the airship carried him over the western edge of Asia.  His clocks must still be ticking calmly in the empty rooms, his mirrors reflecting nothing but the gray rain light that fell through the windows.  While much of him yearned for the peace of his quiet, chilly rooms and London's soot-stained drizzling sky, part of him was rather entranced with the vista before him.

A great, green sea spilled slowly over the world below, stretching out to the north and south father than Twist could see.  The huge piles of white cloud to the north came to a point, almost reaching out to him from the pure blue sky.  As Twist watched, something appeared at the tip of the cloud—now close beside the ship—and it soon became clear enough to identify as another, much smaller airship.  It was slim, two decked, and fit with large vertical sails on either side of a single, tall balloon hanging above the deck.

The
Vimana
suddenly plunged, turning to the south.  Twist clung tightly to the rail as a siren bellowed and the sound of shouting filled the air.  Turning, Twist saw Aazzi, Dr. Rodés, and Arabel all appear on the deck with weapons in hand.  Small, winged crafts flew from the small airship, arcing through the air towards them.

“Twist!” Arabel yelled. “Get below decks!”

“What's happening?” Twist yelled, hurrying closer to her.

“We're under attack,” she said, checking her pistol and watching the sky.

Twist looked to the smaller crafts.  Streams of white steam spewed out behind the winged things—coming closer, Twist saw that they were people with wings and steam engines strapped to their backs, flying like birds and heading right for the
Vimana
.  One of them crashed onto the deck, tossing off the contraption and pulling out a pair of pistols, while two other flying people streamed around the ship in tight arcs.

“We want the clock maker!” yelled the landed intruder. “Give him up!”

In answer, Aazzi started shooting at him, running closer.  Arabel yelled at Twist to run before turning to join the fight herself.  Noise and chaos erupted in all directions: flaming fire began to rain down from the smaller airship, the flying men fired pistols as they flew by, the crew of the
Vimana
returned fire from the deck, Zayle appeared with large wrenches in each hand to strike at the fliers as they flew too close, Arabel took to the rigging with her own weapons, Aazzi ran from target to target at lightning and inhuman speeds as more fliers appeared and tried to board the ship.

Twist ran for the stairs below decks, but one of the fliers crashed onto the deck in front of him, blocking him.  The man didn't remove his wings, but he reached out to grab Twist with both hands.  Twist jumped away from him, only to fall over a bit of the collecting debris on the deck.  Aazzi appeared out of nowhere and shot at the flier until he jumped over the side of the ship.  She grabbed Twist's collar and hauled him to his feet, throwing him towards the stairs before turning to fire again.

The airship lurched to the left, throwing Twist to the railing.  His vision fell to see the green sea now less than a hundred feet below the ship.  He struggled to regain his footing to hurry below decks when he heard Arabel's voice scream.

“No!  That's Jon!” she yelled, grabbing Dr. Rodés's gun as he took aim.

Twist looked to see a man with wings running at him across the deck.  The buzzing sensation at the base of Twist's neck reappeared, stilling him for an instant.  The man wore black goggles that hid his eyes, but he pulled them off as he ran closer to Twist.

“Twist!  Run!” Aazzi's voice yelled from across the ship.

Twist tore his eyes off his attacker and dove from the stairs.  The other man was too fast and his hands caught Twist's arm.  In the instant before his Sight took over, Twist looked up at the other man, meeting his brilliant green eyes.

The electric sensation in the base of his neck exploded into white hot fire, throwing Twist off the deck and into the air with a strong concussion.  The other man flew away from him while impossible light broke over them both and the force of the blast threw them apart.  Twist's overwhelmed senses had only a moment to tell him he was falling through open air, before everything went black, silent, and still.

A throbbing pain at the base of Twist's neck came to him before anything else.  The cold came next, and the shivering of his body.  After some effort, Twist managed to open his eyes.  A field of dull, deep green met his vision, as blurred shapes moved in the foggy darkness.  Blinking brought the shapes into focus.  Large silver fish swam before him, through thick, murky, heavy green water.

Twist sat upright quickly, for an instant afraid that he was drowning in the sea, a scream escaping his lips.  His voice came out clearly, and air returned to him without effort.  Twist turned to look around him, taking in his surroundings with more coherence.

He was alone in a small, dark, metal room.  A huge glass window filled the wall before him, showing a great depth of water outside.  Twist, although drenched to the bone, seemed to be unharmed.  He had been left lying on a stiff but soggy couch, and his pockets were empty.  His first thoughts went to his watch, and a true fear broke to life in his heart.  Looking about the room, Twist saw no sign of it.  There was a metal door with a large valve-like wheel in the center of it, closed against the wall opposite the window, and a number of brass tubes hung out of the ceiling beside it.

Twist got to his feet, but found his legs weak and unsteady.  He made his way slowly to the door and tried to pull it open to no avail.  It seemed to be locked from the other side.  Out of breath now, he pressed his back to the wall and let his legs go limp as he slid down to the floor.  His fingers curled tightly in his damp hair, and Twist closed his eyes to shut out the world.  Utter confusion and total despair pounded heavily in the pain at the back of his head, threatening to swallow him whole.  When losing his watch to the depths of the sea surfaced in his boiling thoughts, Twist felt his eyes begin to sting with tears.

The sound of strained metal came suddenly from the door, and Twist looked up to see the wheel spin on its own before the door swung open.  A large man with dark skin and a long nose came into the room and looked around before his dark eyes fell on Twist.

“Ah, it's awake,” the man said, in a thick accent Twist had never heard.

“Where am I?” Twist gasped to ask him. “What's happening?”

“You're under the Caspian Sea, little one,” the man said.  He came into the room as he spoke, flanked on either side by two even larger men with mirthless, expressionless faces.  One of them closed the door behind them. “We found you floating near the surface, half dead.  We brought you on board and got you breathing again.”

“I stopped breathing?” Twist asked quickly.

The man laughed lightly. “You just about drowned, little one.”

“Well, thank you,” Twist said, smiling up to his savior. “I owe you my life.”

“That you do,” the man said, smiling back. “Where are you from?  England?”

“Yes, London,” Twist said, trying to get himself back onto his feet.

“Are you worth anything?” the man asked pleasantly.

“I'm sorry?” Twist said, still leaning heavily on the wall but relatively upright once again.

“About how much would someone pay to get you back?” the man asked.

“You mean, as a ransom?” Twist asked, his heart beating faster.

“There's a good boy,” the man said with a wide smile. “How much can I get for you?”

“Well,” Twist muttered, fear and confusion burning to life once again as he considered his situation more clearly. “I mean, I don't really … I don't have any family.”

“Friends then?” the man asked, still pleasant as ever. “An employer maybe.”

“No,” Twist said darkly. “I'm alone.  No one would pay anything for me.”

“Oh, that's too bad,” the man said with feigned pity. “No friends at all,” he said to one of the two thugs. “Are you sure, little one?” he asked Twist.

“No one even knows that I left London,” Twist said.  He was surprised by how quickly his anger grew. “There isn't anyone for you to rob on my account.”

“Well, then” the man said, taking a breath. “Welcome to the crew.  I hope you're stronger than you look, because I need another boy in the engine room.”

“Wait!” Twist said, holding up his hands as one of the two thugs reached for him and the other opened the door. “I don't want to join your crew!” he spat, moving away from the thugs.

“This just isn't your day,” the leader said, shaking his head. “Throw him in with the coal,” he told the thugs.

“Don't touch me!” Twist screamed, jumping away from them and into the dark, damp metal hallway outside the room.

“You really don't seem to understand,” the leader said, following as his thugs continued towards Twist. “You fell into my hands, I saved your life, and I own it now.”

“I'll do what you want,” Twist said quickly, backing away. “You don't have to touch me.  I'll go wherever you want.  Just tell me where.”

The two thugs stopped and looked to their leader for orders.  He considered Twist for a moment and then shrugged.

“Fine, just get him to the boiler,” he said, waving them on.

“That way,” one of the thugs said, pointing.

Twist did as he was told, walking through the tight, damp, metal hallways with the two thugs at his back.  Steam burst out of valves and pipes here and there.  Innumerable conduits and complex structures of pipes covered most of the walls.  Twist pulled his arms tight against himself, trying desperately not to touch anything in the dark and cramped spaces.

Strong heat and a deep rumbling sound grew louder as they walked, until the tightness of the hallways opened onto a large room filled with piles of black coal.  The face of a huge boiler—easily three times the size of the one on the
Vimana
—filled the far wall.  One young boy, not possibly older than fifteen, stood in the piles of coal with a shovel.  He looked up when Twist walked into the room and his dark eyes widened.

The boy said something with a shuddering voice, in a language strange to Twist, and he backed away holding his shovel up defensively.

“He's just English,” one of the thugs said. “Get back to work, and show him how.”  With that, the two thugs left the room and slammed the heavy metal door behind them.

“English?” the boy asked, moving closer to Twist cautiously. “I've never seen an Englishman so pale...” he muttered, reaching out a hand to Twist's face. “No one alive, anyway.”  The coal stains on the boy's face had masked his features, but up close they looked totally foreign to Twist.  There was an accent similar to the leader's on his voice, as well.

“I'm alive,” Twist said, backing away from him. “I assure you.  Though,” he paused, looking around, “I'm not so certain that's a good thing right now.”

“It must be better to be alive,” the boy said softly. “Even here.” He shook his head and put on somewhat of a smile. “I'm Halil,” the boy said, holding out a hand. “What's your name?”

“Twist.  Nice to meet you,” Twist said nodding slightly but not accepting the handshake.

Halil looked at his hand as if to see what was wrong with it. “Don't Englishmen like to shake hands?”

“No, it's—” Twist said quickly, “I don't.  I'm sorry.”

“Doesn't matter,” Halil said with a shrug. “How'd you get on board?  Are we near the surface again?” he asked, his eyes going wide with wonder.

“Surface...?” Twist toned.  He shook his head to clear his thoughts. “I'm sorry, I don't remember exactly how I got here.  One moment I was on an airship, and then I woke up … here.  Where are we, anyway?”

“Welcome to the
Hazar
,” Halil said flatly.  He wiped some of the coal dust from his forehead with the back of his hand as he looked around at the room. “It's a metal ship that travels deep under the water.  I haven't seen the sky in many months.  I'm not sure you and I ever will again.”  Twist swallowed his uneasy fear at the boy's words.

“Who were those men?” Twist asked, looking back to the closed door.

“Pirates,” Halil said.

“More pirates?” Twist gasped, exasperated. “I'm sick to death of pirates!”

A loud siren bellowed off the metal walls.  Twist looked around for the source, his hands over his ears, but the sound died again before he could find it.  Halil immediately started to shovel coal into the small glowing hole in the front of the boiler.

“Hurry,” he said as he worked, “there are more shovels over there.  Take one and help me.  That sound means they want more speed.  If they catch you not working, they'll beat you.”

“Oh, this is not on,” Twist said to himself as he searched for a shovel.  He found one and fell into rhythm beside Halil, shoveling. “I get taken halfway around the world by pirates.  I get attacked and thrown off an airship by pirates.  Now I'm turned into a coal shoveling slave by pirates.  I'm not having it anymore!”

“You can't escape,” Halil said in a hushed tone, stopping to stare at Twist in fear. “They'll beat you.”

“Only if they stop me,” Twist said, pausing in his work as well.

“They will,” Halil said, nodding quickly. “No one escapes.  If you try more than once they kill you!  Besides, we're under water.  How can you get out?”

“I'll wait until the ship is on the surface,” Twist said.

“They lock up the slaves before they go anywhere near the surface,” Halil said. “And at night too, when everyone goes to sleep.”

“And they keep you here otherwise?”

“Well, yes,” Halil said. “There are other slaves too, but I only see them at night.”

“Then that's when I'll escape,” Twist said. “When they come to get us.”

“But you … you can't!” Halil said, clutching his shovel fearfully.

“I'm not spending my life in this horrible place.  I'm going to Nepal, I'm going to save her, and then I'm going home.  That's final.”

Halil stared at him in fear and wonder, his mouth open but silent.  The siren bellowed again, for longer this time.  Halil turned with a frightened yelp and redoubled his efforts to shovel the coal into the boiler.

“Wait, no,” Twist said, staring at the rumbling, bulging, furious steam engine. “Stop shoveling.”

“But they'll—“ Halil began.

“Beat us.  Yes, I know,” Twist said. “Just stop.  They'll come in here if we don't do what they want, right?”

“Yes.  And they'll bring things to beat us with.”

“Just wait,” Twist said, watching the door but standing close beside the metal face of the boiler.  He held his shovel in one hand, and held his other hand close to—but not yet touching—the engine. “Do you know the way to the bridge of this ship?” he asked Halil over his shoulder.

“I think it's forward, on the level above us,” he said. “I've only been there once.”

“Lead me there, and you can come with me back to the surface,” Twist said. “But whatever you do, don't touch me.  Not for any reason.  Do you understand?”

“No,” Halil said instantly.

Twist smiled back at him. “Can you do it anyway?”

The siren bellowed for a long moment as the two stared at each other.  Halil finally nodded to Twist, clutching at his shovel but remaining still.