Christi stood transfixed, her breathing quickened rapidly, her heart hammered against her chest. A ghost from her past stood right before her, memories of pain and anguish burst forth from the floodgates. The gut wrenching screams, Alex, The Bull and The Spider. A shrill ringing pierced the compound of townsfolk chatter and laughs surrounding her. Growing in harshness she soon found her head was naught but a chamber of this malevolent melody. Her heart rattled fiercely, BA-DUMP, BA-DUMP.
“Christi? It’s me, Ratchet”
BA-DUMP, BA-DUMP
“Christi my dear? Are you feeling ill?”
BA-DUMP, BA-DUMP
“Hey Christi are you…”
Ratchet dragged his burly frame forward, he cautiously outstretched a large hand towards Christi.
BA-DUMP, BA-DUMP
Christi’s vision narrowed, her heart palpated in intensity, she inhaled sharply, spun around and retreated hastily into the bustling labyrinth of lively Barakat. She crashed a path through the sea of townsfolk going about their daily tasks. Ratchet and Piotr watched as she disappeared from their line of sights. A soft sigh escaped Piotr’s mask, he perched himself atop a nearby bulky wooden crate.
“Oh dear, I was afraid this would happen sooner or later”
Ratchet clumsily pivoted in the direction of Piotr, groaned lowly and glared daggers at Piotr,
“So who are you and what’s your relationship to Christi?”
Piotr leaned back and met Ratchet’s suspicious gaze,
“Straight to the point, I like that, a man who doesn’t mince his words, well to answer your question, I’m Christi’s guardian and mentor”
Ratchet released the tension in his stare and posture, he relaxed his muscles slightly and very gingerly slumped alongside Piotr. A sorrowful face revealed itself beneath the tough exterior as he continued to prod Piotr with questions.
“How long have you been taking care of her?”
Piotr crossed his legs and began rhythmically tapping his finger atop the rigid surface of the crate bearing the combined weight of the pair.
“Just a little over four years now”
“So since Chrodrift then? Sorry, I never properly introduced myself”
Piotr waved a hand in dismissal.
“No need, I know who you are, you’re Christi’s guardian, she informed me. With what little she’s shared of her past”
Ratchet’s face twisted into a grimace of pain.
“So you know what happened in Chrodrift?”
“I was present when that catastrophe unfolded. I just so happened upon Christi in that awful mess. She had a run in with a most wretchedly cruel creature”
He paused for a moment.
“I’ll spare you the details, it’s a particularly gruesome tale. One I do not like to recall for Christi’s sake…”
He turned towards Ratchet before finishing his sentence,
“and now for yours”.
Ratchet pondered the thought of not delving any deeper into the topic at hand before remembering the promise he made to himself four years ago in the ruins of Chrodrift.
“No, I want to know everything no matter how unsettling it may be, I’ve spent four years searching for that girl so spare me your kindness and tell me everything that happened”
Piotr could see the burning fire of determination blazing brightly in Ratchet’s tired eyes, he knew no benefit would come from attempting to dissuade or deter this man.
“Well I can’t refuse a man such as yourself the truth, you deserve to know, so be it I’ll tell you but keep in mind I did warn you. It’s not an easy pill to swallow”
Christi slams and rebounds through the crowded streets pinballing from person to person, out of the corner of her eye in the near distance she spots a young child huddled over a doorstep gleefully toiling away with a small bronze coloured toy crudely resembling that of a knight. Darkness oozes from the corners of her vision, a spotlight beams onto the idle child who in his stead now stands a murky green haired girl. Red crimson eyes stalk the girl from the abyss behind her. Christi tumbles to the floor, scrambles back to her feet, as she rises a large steel donkey obstructs her path. The transportation vehicle groans under the weight of its own metal and wooden corpulence. Memories of the mechanical monstrosity resembling a disfigured bull rampaging through the streets of Chrodrift swamped her mind.
She bolts for the inn, breezes past Sam who has not left his chair, clambers up the stairs, barges inside her room and bolts the door shut. She scampers to the foot of her bed and curls up, her breath is ragged and wild, she struggles for air as her breakneck heartbeat refuses to let up. She thinks of Alex and recalls her usual method of calming herself, a small ember flickers to life in the palm of her metallic hand. She breathes in for five seconds, holds her breath for five seconds and exhales for five seconds. After some repetition her heartbeat returns to a steadier pace. She drags her feet closer and buries herself in her knees as she shuts herself off from the world.
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Ratchet’s face is in a state of ambivalence, anger, sadness, and regret as Piotr concludes his conversation with Ratchet. A stagnant air of silence permeates the atmosphere between the two, there is nothing to be said, the two men know that all too well. After an aeon of silence Piotr springs to his feet, and pats down his frivolous trench coat.
“I suspect the young miss has retreated to the inn, shall we depart?”
Ratchet sits hunched over hands jammed together, he neither reacts nor even seems to acknowledge what Piotr just said, Piotr doesn’t need any more of a hint.
“I’ll give you some time alone, we’re residing at the inn just off the corner of the town’s market, red brickwork arch by the entrance, place is called ‘The Traveler’s Refuge’”
Piotr leaves though with less bounce in his step than usual, the thought of burdening Ratchet with the story of how he met Christi uneased him. He never did want to recall that incident, much less divulge it, but he couldn’t refuse Ratchet the truth. Especially with that fervent determination in his eyes. He hoped that the regret and guilt he was experiencing now wouldn’t prove too great a crushing weight to his sense of responsibility for Christi.
Ratchet sat motionless as Piotr left, his gut blazing with anger towards himself for not being there for Christi, he was her guardian. It was his duty to protect her and yet he failed to do so, if it wasn’t for Piotr she would’ve perished on that day. He plunged his fist into the crate beside him, busting a hole in the surface. Splintering and bruising his fist in the process.
Blood trickled from the small fissure created in the impact. Rage, regret, and sorrow consumed his mind, he was nothing but a feral beast in mind now. The thought of Christi dragged him back to his senses, he thought of the pain she had endured over these last four years and how suffocating that must be for her. While he may never fully comprehend her trauma he knew at the very least he ought to be there for her. He stood with restored conviction and began slogging towards the ‘Traveller’s Refuge’ to see Christi.
Piotr enters the vibrant inn, he scans his surrounding environment noting everything and anyone that could prove a potential danger to him. Cutlery was the most obvious, particularly rather sharp knives strewn across multiple tables. Given the belligerent nature of the patrons here it wouldn’t exactly come as a surprise if someone were to brandish a knife here. He noticed that Sam was nowhere to be seen, he was more than likely outside Christi’s room. What really piqued his interest however was a hooded man slouched over his table who had been keenly observing Piotr since he had entered the inn.
His face was obscured with the only distinguishable feature on show being a wild bush of black facial hair dangling low from his hood. He was small in stature but powerfully built, you could see the bulging muscles outlined beneath the thin fabric of his overcoat. A tarp would be a more fitting description. Piotr zeroed in on him trying to pinpoint who or what he was, faint callouses ran across the base of his fingers. The man was either a mercenary or an experienced adventurer, Piotr concluded. Piotr was about to approach the stranger when a dainty little woman dressed in a pale white dress fastened tightly by a maroon bodice intercepted him.
“Excuse me sir, I was hoping to talk to you about your young travel companion”
Piotr perked up, slipped back into his very friendly businessman persona, he clamped her thin hands within his leather gloves and bowed slightly.
“Oh I apologise profusely madam, I’m afraid the little miss often finds herself plagued with horrible memories that disturb her greatly, I will address the matter urgently and ensure this doesn’t occur again”
Dimples creased into existence on the woman’s face as a faint smile flickered to life.
“Oh it’s no problem at all, your colleague informed me of the same thing earlier when she raced through here but nonetheless I was just concerned with the young lady’s wellbeing”
Piotr bowed gracefully
“I appreciate it madam, might I say it is so nice to see a beautiful kind soul such as yours showing concern for their fellow lady”
The lady giggled and smiled, this time with greater enthusiasm.
“Well I’m sure she’ll be just fine in your care, I believe your colleague is upstairs outside her room, have a good afternoon now sir”
“Likewise my lady”
As she left Piotr glanced in the direction of the mysterious figure, gone. All that remained at his table was an empty jug of ale and a few silver coins. Piotr scanned the room one more time and then proceeded to ascend the frail wooden stairs to Christi’s room.
Ratchet waddled along the streets, his head in a constant swivelling motion frantically scouring for ‘The Traveller’s Refuge’. Then he spotted it. Hidden away from the thronging market square of open air stalls, a small wooden sign peeked out from a red brick archway. As he neared the rustic entrance to the inn a hooded man clad in an oversized cloak emerged from inside and disappeared into the nearby sea of people. Undeterred from his goal of finding Christi he failed to notice the stranger’s presence. He pushed hard on the rigid door and slipped inside. A cacophony of smells bombarded his nostrils, the appetising aroma of eggs and bacon, the stale stench of alcohol. A man adorned in a waistcoat complimented with a sleek and thin pair of trousers greeted him genially.
“Good afternoon sir you must be Ratchet”
As he drew closer his raven feathered top hat bounced and bobbed with each step. Slowly but surely he made his way to Ratchet before stopping just two steps short of the burly man.
“I won’t waste your time, master Piotr informed me of who you are, if you would be so kind to follow me to the young miss’s room, she is in quite a state”
He began toward the stairway curving around a tall stone pillar, Ratchet didn’t utter a word and merely followed along.
A muffled voice shook Christi from the safe wooden confines of her room,
“Christi please, can we talk?”
Piotr. Who had been more prevalent in her times of need in these last four years than him of course. This time was different however, Ratchet, the man who took her in and raised her was here, back from the dead. She knew she should be ecstatic but seeing him again just brought back those horrible memories in spades. Tears dripped from the corner of her eyes, she hated these episodes of hers, they reminded her of how powerless she was even after all these years.
“Christi, the reason I called you out today was because….. Christi I found signs that one of the clockwork hours. The second hour specifically resides nearby this town.”
That’s right, she remembered the promise she made to herself four years ago, she recalled the rage and anger she felt the day after she lost everything. How those machines took everything from her. She would find each and every one of them and deliver the retribution they so justly deserved. She clawed away her tears, jumped to her feet and threw open the door.
“Take me to it”