Of Machines & Magics (28 page)

“We came from Earth,” Calvin replied. “Originally, we left and journeyed to other worlds. Eventually, we returned here, and as you see, we stayed.”

Above them, the sky was almost black. Towards the west it changed degree by slow degree to a deep cobalt blue and at the horizon, to purple where the merest flicker of garnet sunlight might be seen between the mountain peaks. On the other side of the sky, the black became absolute with the hard, unwinking points of starlight punctuating it: a scatter of splintered gems across an inky backdrop.

“Voss once told me that I would enjoy this journey—that travel broadens the mind—indeed, that I would find myself.”

“And now you
have
found yourself, Calistrope.”

The remnants of the circle world shone redly, away to the east. The anchors which tethered them in place were rooted far into nightside, but at nearly eight thousand leagues above the surface, they still caught the sunlight.

The two companions fell silent again, and then they both spoke at once.

“You know, Calistrope—”

“Ponderos, I—”

Both had spoken together, both fell silent once more until eventually, Calistrope started again.

“Ponderos, I don’t wish to return to Sachavesku, I can’t say why. I don’t know.”

“I was about to say much the same,” said Ponderos.

Calistrope sighed. “Looking back, I think I was bored at Sachavesku. I used to be very content there but at some point, satisfaction turned to boredom. And we’re different people now, we have no real reason to return.”

“The Mages wait for news that the world is returning to the sun,” Ponderos sighed and turned to look towards the west. “Perhaps we could send the curator. I hear the creature has been rather morose since it was taken to task for sending messages to recipients who don’t listen. It would, I’m sure, enjoy the journey.”

Calistrope didn’t answer the question directly. “Perhaps the Mages deserve to meet a machine with as much self-esteem as their own.”

“Let us send the curator then,” Ponderos smiled. “There are other things to do.”

“Other places to see,” Calistrope agreed. “That is, after we have recuperated sufficiently and I have taken time to examine these computers. The whole idea of computers opens up all sorts of possibilities.”

The two slim segments of the circle world flickered. Earth’s slow creep in pursuit of its sun was beginning to move the terminator.

In some future time, the world would turn again.

The low chime from the communicator drew Voss the Despondent’s attention from the shining waters of the lake. That ramshackle collection of machine and creature parts that called itself “the curator” had already visited Sachavesku and returned to Shune. Nevertheless, here was a message from that creature, for he recognized the less than harmonious tones that followed, and wondered if he should indeed have gifted the mechanism with a communicator.

“I am told,” the curator said in a rusty voice, “that Calistrope and his friends have now left the City of Shune.” There followed what might have been an indrawn breath. “They travel in an easterly direction.”

Voss nodded. The thinnest of thin smiles touched his lips. He was not amazed at the information. As it happened, Voss was guiltily absorbing the content of a memory vault—that which he had purloined from Calistrope’s Manse—it had taken him until now to overcome the seal on the device. It was filled with the memories of those travels Calistrope had made and forgotten, but now, obviously, wished to retain.

The current segment bore the title
My Crossing of Lower Earth.
An image entered Voss’ mind: a huge glass ovoid which held nothing but an energy-free vacuum and thus floated, bearing up a long punt-like undercarriage with a cabin and propulsion engine. A great wheel that was as wide as a man is tall governed the direction taken, as well as the speed of travel.

Voss’ smile broadened fractionally; nostalgia came with the memories he observed. “I remember this myself,” he murmured. And now, examining his own recollections, he saw the huge machine that Calistrope had assembled, how it had hung in the air, how the brass railings had gleamed and the vented steam had floated like fist-sized clouds in the thicker air of so long ago.

So long ago that there were still mornings, Voss recalled. Mornings were always the best time to begin a voyage. In his mind’s eye, the sun edged above the dark horizon and Calistrope’s craft and his tall, flamboyant figure became black silhouettes against the yellow sky. Calistrope’s arm rose, his hand weaved briefly from side to side—his farewell.

The End

About Adele Abbot

ADELE ABBOT graduated from Manchester University, where she majored in law. Her interest in Fantasy was first fired when she came across the Lyonesse series by Jack Vance. Working backwards from there, Adele discovered Vance’s earlier works, including the Dying Earth series, and was immediately fascinated by the way violence and evil could be hidden behind beautiful prose or absurd situations.

After several false starts and plenty of encouragement from friends and family, she began writing her first book, Of Machines & Magics. While shopping for a publisher, Adele began work on another fantasy, Postponing Armageddon, which she entered in the “Anywhere But Here, Anywhen But Now” contest for aspiring debut novelists, sponsored by Sir Terry Pratchett and Transworld Publishers. Out of more than five hundred entries, Postponing Armageddon reached the prize shortlist of just six novels.

In addition to pursuing a writing career, Ms. Abbot is a full-time law partner by day. She currently resides in Yorkshire in the United Kingdom with her son. Find out more at her website, www.adeleabbot.info.

About Barking Rain Press

Did you know that six media conglomerates publish eighty percent of the books in the United States? As the publishing industry continues to contract, opportunities for emerging and mid-career authors are drying up. Who will write the literature of the twenty-first century if just a handful of profit-focused corporations are left to decide who—and what—is worthy of publication?

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In the Autumn of the Unfortunates

by Christopher Treagus

Print ISBN: 978-1-935460-26-8

eBook ISBN: 978-1-935460-27-5

Experience a new twist in the tale of Jack the Ripper, as seen through the eyes of renowned artist Walter Sickert. Though Sickert was not a suspect in the crimes during that time period, in modern times he has been identified as a person of interest.

Set fifteen years after the original murders, this story begins when Sickert’s apprentice, Robert Wood, is accused of murdering a prostitute in Camden Town and comes to Sickert for help. Believing Wood to be innocent, Sickert agrees to assist him, but his investigation reveals an uncanny similarity to the Ripper’s crimes years before. Soon he must face a horrible possibility: Jack the Ripper may have returned—or, all the more likely—the Ripper never left!

To save his friend, Sickert must uncover the true villain behind the original killings, following an unsolved case more than a decade cold. His search will lead him down an ever-twisting path toward a truth far more terrible than anyone could ever suspect—or believe!

“Chris Treagus has a great talent for historical horror fiction, dragging the reader through time and space so that one feels like they’re actually there. A writer to watch!”
—Ken Kupstis, Author,
Clownwhite
and
Voodoo Highway

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Bounty Hunter’s Moon

by Lee Pierce

Print ISBN: 978-1-935460-35-0

eBook ISBN: 978-1-935460-36-7

Mitty Andersen knows that rising blues star Bobby Tarleton didn’t die of a heroin overdose. He’d blown enough blues harmonica notes with Bobby to know that he would never let anything get in the way of his music. So when he gets the news in the middle of his blues set at Little Queenie’s, he suspects a cover-up—and he’s determined to put his ex-investigative reporter skills to work to find out what really happened.

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www.barkingrainpress.org