Upstairs was even more of a mess if that was possible. Lady Ashdown saws that bullet holes from rounds of all calibres had turned the historical building into the start of a historical ruin. There was the odd body, and blood trails leading to rooms at the back of the house. The fight at the front of the house was still raging. At the far end of the corridor, the remains of a window opened to the front, the odd round zipping down the corridor, or impacting on the walls.
The air chilled again and she moved her head around, casting about like a hound for a scent, “The spoor leads this way, through that door.”
The air suddenly chilled even further and their breath started to frost. The firing from inside the house intensified, with barely a pause in the firing, “We need to move fast, they’re up to something.”
She lead the way through the door, Pondersby quickly taking the lead and found themselves in another massive hall. Thick electric cables hung from the ceiling like the strands of a broken spider’s web. All them terminated at the machine stood in the centre of the hall. Bright sparks leapt between the two copper balls at the top of the machine, and the air smelt of ozone.
“He’s got a bloody Tesla!” She could not believe his eyes. Teslas were strictly controlled technology, with only government run institutions allowed to have access. This had resulted in the British government being the sole provider of aether power, but it was thought to be a small sacrifice with regard to the larger picture.
A man stood in front of the machine, both hands wrapped around a lever. Before they could do anything he pulled it sharply down and pushed aether into the stream of electricity. There was a blinding flash and, once their vision had cleared they could do nothing but stand and stare.
“A gate, he’s opened a gate!” Smythe shouted, “and he’s got away!”
Stepping cautiously forward she looked through the gate and down upon a lush blue-leaved forest, the trees covered in a yellowish bark. The sky was a light purple, and a dark purple sun shone down. A breeze blew out of the gate, carrying unfamiliar but pleasant smells of flowers and wet grass.
Smythe stepped closer than her to the gate as if to see if he could spot where the figure had gone. “Nothing, he’s completely disappeared.”
She stepped back and spotted a chain with a medallion hanging from the lever. It was exactly the same as that worn by the Cult of Aether but overlaying it was a large “M”. “The bustard’s taunting us. Pondersby, gather up the survivors of your unit and work out how to get your bikes up here. We’re going through. First things first, let’s finish this battle, we have better things to do.”
*
Smythe gritted his teeth at the lead Miles had on them now. It had taken a further hour for the defenders to surrender or, in be case of those torqued, wiped out.
He had ordered Pondersby and his remaining Motorcyclists to gather in both halls, as they had too much equipment to fit into the gate hall all at once. Despite having suffered nearly fifty per cent casualties in the fight through the house, their morale was still high - the prospect of travelling to another world was obviously too much of a draw - and Pondersby was doing a marvellous job of keeping their spirits high, He’s still a bloody annoying arse, thought Smythe as the twerp twirled his moustache once more.
He turned as there was a commotion outside, a voice shouting at soldiers to “get out of the way my children.” The door to the hall slammed open and a trooper staggered backward through it on his heels, arms wind milling as he tried in vain to keep his balance. Bishop Magnus strode through the door, followed by his retinue.
“My dear Lady Ashdown” he strode over to her, grasped hand and kissed it, “gentlemen, how marvellous to see you all in such good health. I happened to be in the area and saw a most marvellous display of pyrotechnics and derring-do and just had to come and see what was happening. Especially after our little chat.” His eyes glittered as he turned his attention to the gate.
“Well, well, well, how utterly unexpected. Lord Miles is full of surprises. How in God’s name did he get hold of a Tesla machine?” Smythe opened his mouth to answer but closed it with a snap as Magnus made a shushing sound and walked around the machine, examining it from all sides. A clergyman stepped forward and started to take photographs whilst another stepped forward and set up a tripod, placing a kinovision camera on it.
Smythe realised that he needed to regain control of the situation or find him and his command following Magnus like the children he obviously believed they were, “Good to see you too Bishop Magnus. If I may be so bold, what are you doing here and why is your man recording everything? This is Sanction business.”
Magnus looked up from where he had been tapping a small dial, “Ah, about that. I had a little whisper exchange with the Professor. In light of our agreement and mutual interests, he has agreed that the Holy Militia can accompany you through the gate. You’ll find these men are very .... handy when it comes to a fight. I too shall accompany you, as shall the Scribes.”
Smythe turned, frowning as the rest of Magnus’ men filed in. Aside from the two scribes, there were five Clergymen and, clanking into the room, a Knight Archangel. On its back was a strange device that none of them had seen before. It was round, a perfect sphere set in a harness, with what looked like exhaust vents set around it. Smythe dismissed it as irrelevant for the moment, No doubt Von Adin will be all over the damned thing as soon as he can, he thought.
Magnus continued walking around the gate as he spoke, “I appreciate that the Motorcyclists can move faster than my men on foot so I’d like to request use of those motorcycles without crew, have no fear my men can use them. The Knight will remain on the other side, keep the gate open . Have no fear, he’s a good Church man. He does have orders to withdraw and destroy the gate if he hears nothing from us after seventy two hours, or if he is unable to hold his position against any …. unwelcome visitors.”
Smythe realised that there was no point in further discussion. Pondersby had obviously come to the same decision and was already assigning troopers to help the militia get motorcycles.
“Have no fear Major, we have the same interests in this case. The apprehension of Lord Miles is our common goal and we shall not hinder you. A man such as he is an affront to the Lord God, and should face the wrath of Her Majesty’s Government. Now if you’ll all bow your heads for the Blessing, we’ll venture forth on our quest in but a moment.”
Grinding his teeth in frustration, know that Magnus had assumed command for the moment, Smythe bowed his head.
*
Everything here feels very, very wrong. Smythe looked around at the flora and fauna around them. He had seen some of the plants and animals before but everything just felt wrong. The grass, if it could be called that, crunched wrongly. The four-winged birds did not tweet, they whistled and hooted. He had a basic understanding of the more dangerous varieties, but had already seen a tulip-like plant - that stank, quite frankly, of shit - eat a hand-sized bird in one crunchy bite.
The sun was warm without being too hot, more like an autumnal day rather than summer. Can’t even have a real sun.
Gubbins returned from where he had been looking for a trail. “Lady Ashdown says that the spoor is summat confused, as a lot of the creatures roundabout use aether somehow, she says that they most likely have an innate ability. Still, having looked around, she reckons it goes that way, and having looked at the ground I believe it too.”
Pondersby pointed at two of his Motorcyclists. “Take the lead on the trail, fifty yards apart. If the lead is engaged, the rear is to cover their retreat and make all haste back to us. We’re going to be five hundred yard to your rear. Move cautiously and don’t push on after the fox eh!”
Slowly the scratch-built force wound its way through the forest, cross country at first, but then hitting upon a slightly wider, dusty track. At last, though Smythe as the motorcyclists opened up and sped along the track.
“How on earth is he moving so damned fast?” Shouted Von Adin. Smythe had noticed that he was also unsettled by the aether-world, jumping at every bird that took flight, training his Hotchkiss on trees bending in the wind before cursing and trying to relax again.
Lady Ashdown motioned her driver forward. “It’s believed that time doesn’t necessarily follow the same path in our worlds. The first expedition reported that they believed they had been gone much longer than Thebes perceived them to have. So, although he had an earth-bound hour, here it might have been a day. Other expeditions have found that even this isn’t constant. Either way it would appear that he has indeed been here for much longer.”
Bloody place, every single thing is wrong about it. How on earth do the aether-born cope with coming into our world if I feel this way about theirs? Thought Smythe lurching forward with a curse as Pondersby suddenly stopped. “Sorry major, the scouts are coming back”.
The scouts roared up to them and came to a skidding stop. One of them snapped off a salute to Smythe, “Sir, you’ve got to see this to believe it.”
*
The ‘this’ that the scout was referring to was a city like none Smythe had ever seen on earth. The core was a tapering tower that literally reached up for the sky. It was so high that low hanging clouds were actually below the tallest spire. He tracked his binocular up and saw that the top branched out into what looked like the top of a tree, buildings forming the leaves. The whole effect took his breath away, not only for the feat of engineering, but also for the beauty.
At the bottom were what looked like foothills but which Smythe realised were actual buildings that diminished in height the further they got from the centre. Even the smallest if those is larger than anything we’ve managed on earth. There was what looked like a more normal city spreading out from that and it too was huge.
“Makes the fucking sprawl look tiny!” Gubbins had a pair of airship binoculars, and was scanning the city, looking for any obvious points of entry as ordered by Smythe.
Smythe reached in to his pocket, retrieved his snuff and took a quick pinch. The city suddenly sprang closer. What he thought had been birds wheeling about the tower materialised into Dracos. There was a dim blaring of klaxons and the Dracos suddenly grouped together and started to climb high into the sky, heading west
“Wonder what’s got them all stirred up!” Gubbins scanned the sky with the binoculars and froze. “Well fuck me sideways. Take a look at that!”
They all looked to where he was pointing. The sky was filled with airships, kite-like Flitters and winged beasts.
“Gargoyles. Those flappers are gargoyles. There must be hundreds of the buggers!” Smythe found he could not take in the sheer size of the armada approaching the city.
He watched as the fleet lowly drew closer to the city and black clouds started to blossom in front of them. The reason became apparent when the Dracos appeared from behind a cloud and dived into the attack, aether vomiting from their mouths and streams of firefly from the weapons mounted on their wings.
“The bastards are fighting a war, why on earth have none of the expeditions reported this!” said Lady Ashdown, coming to the same realisation at he at the same time.
Magnus stepped forward, “I believe that as with the time anomalies, there are also distance anomalies. Our expeditions might well have never entered this part of the world. Still, it’s heartening to know that the buggers are just as busy killing themselves as they are us.”
Figures small and large tumbled from the sky as both sides started to take losses. There was a huge explosion as one of the airships took a catastrophic hit. Flaming debris hit another that had strayed too closely and that too was turned into a raging inferno.
“Look how some of the Dracos are trying to herd the airships closer. When they do, the others are trying to catch one alight. Exactly the same tactics they used against us.” Smythe’s voice cracked as he remembered the battles above London, the fear of being burnt alive that they had all felt.
He trained his binocular as the Flitters from the fleet rose up into the air above the battle as it drew closer and closer to the city. Guns in the city roared in defiance and aether arced up to them. Suddenly the lead Flitters went nose down and plummeted towards the city. Those behind also did the same as they reached a similar point in the sky. Smaller, triangular shapes broke away from them and drifted away from the city.
The group stood watched in the silence as the Flitters continued to dive towards the city. Smaller gun fire joined the larger and anti-flight fire blossomed into life. Flitters were blown into flinders, but others that were merely damaged continued their descent.
Finally the first of the flitters landed in the city. Lady Ashdown gasped as they exploded with a force that belied their size.
“Bombs, they’re using bombs attached to the Flitters. They’ve never tried that against us.” She held a hand to her face, “Not even humans have bombed cities!”
Not yet! thought Smythe as he jotted down a few key notes, the tactics on display already giving him enough ideas to fill a whole training manual should he make it back in one piece.
He looked up to see that the rest of the fleet was now above the city, and more bombs fell from the aether ships. Other objects fell, and Smythe realised that they resembled Parachutists although they too used the triangular shapes to float down to the city.
He looked back west and saw another fleet flying towards the city. “It’s an invasion. Look how they’re dropping troops into the city amongst the bomb damage. There’s another fleet headed in and I believe that they will drop even more troops. It looks like they have a war on their hands.”
“Which would explain why they haven’t tried to force their way out of the Curtain for a decade. I wonder just how long it has been raging here?” Magnus was using an especially large telescope to view the battle and lowered it as he spoke to Smythe.
Stolen from its rightful place, this narrative is not meant to be on Amazon; report any sightings.
“Can’t be long, otherwise those expeditions that we’ve managed to send in via our gates would have reported on it, surely?” Von Adin reached over and took the glasses from Gubbins, to get a better look at the action.
Magnus answered before Smythe, “I’m now sure that space is also affected. We’ve always assumed that our gates open in a position relative to their position, that is, the gate in London opens up on a location that mirrors that of London. We were never able to find out where the other gates opened and I’m tempted to believe that because they were linked and opened at the same time, they also happened to open in the same locality.”
Which would explain why we were only ever attacked by the Vampyres and their cohorts, thought Smythe, There was never a report of the Sidhe attacking. Add to that the fact that those Sidhe that have come through refuse to speak about why they did so, and its more than possible that this war has been going on for quite some time.
“That must mean that previous gates we’ve opened at headquarters for example, have by chance opened up in the areas dominated by the Vampyres. This gate has opened up in an area inhabited by what I can only assume are the Sidhe.” He looked over at Magnus who nodded in agreement.
“I agree”, said the Bishop, “The gate that the Church of England has opened is different to the one in London. Every time an expedition returns, we close the gate and only open it back up when another expedition is due to go through. We have found that it opens in roughly the same location, give or take the odd yard. We have dealt with the Sidhe, they seem far more amenable and a lot less .... predatory. The city in front of you is most certainly Sidhe.”
Lady Ashdown strode forward, a flush spreading down from her face and onto her chest and eyes narrowed. “I suppose that because of the stance that the churches have taken with regard to the aether-born and their use of aether, you haven’t communicated this with people who might have found the information to be of use. Like us?”
Magnus was forced to take a step back as she stepped right up to him, “I’m afraid so my dear Lady Ashdown. There are those in power that feel threatened by the resurgence of Faith and the power of the church. If our congregations found out that we were dealing with such people our standing and all we have built would be nothing but ruins.
We need to communicate with them, even deal with them in order to learn more about them. Not to do so would condemn humanity to extinction if the aether-born decided to break out of the Curtain.”
“Did you know about the war?” Lady Ashdown leaned forward, clearly soaking up the information.
“Alas we did. We also knew that if we told those in power what we knew, that a massive counter-offensive would be launched. An offensive that could not be won.” he cast his eyes down, searching for the right words.
“We found out that the gates in London et cetera opened up on the city of A'Dam, ruled by the Emperor A’Dam, Father Vampyre of the Eastern Fringe, ruler of the great nations of A’Dam, Sa'Sung, A'Plipod, and I'Scar.”
“Tesla’s experiments caused a number of unexpected side effects on this side, storms, ghosts et cetera. Whilst we have myths and legends to do with the existence of Vampyres, Dragons, and fairies, they had legends of another world, from where the ancestors of the Slavs came from. The Emperor’s advisors realised that somehow we were starting to break in to their world.”
Smythe listened in awe, How could the Church have kept this from the Sanction? He thought, another more unwelcome thought sprang to mind, Did they keep it from the Sanction, or has the Sanction always known, but just never told us? He decided to push the thought to the back of his mind for now, and turned his attention back to what Magnus was saying.
“Realising that a way in also meant a way out, the Emperor stationed a portion of his forces around the points Tesla’s gates were opening in. That’s why the response was so large and how it was able to be so big. Emperor A’Dam sees any incursion into his territory as a threat and he doesn’t tolerate threats. The force contained by the Curtain is nothing but a garrison, an outpost station. The same applies for the other stations too.”
That last filled Smythe with utter dread. The scale of the armies that the Emperor must have to hand was unimaginable considering the size of the armies that had poured through the gates when they first opened. To think that they were merely garrisons was a horrifying thought .
“Can you explain why C’Lark helped us then? Is there a schism we can exploit?” Asked Smythe, trying to work out how they might use that to their advantage.
Magnus shrugged, “I would have to assume that C’Lark has some sort of officer rank, We’re yet to work that out. Previously it was thought that the Horde consisted of different war bands. We were right in one sense in that they were different war bands but we were wrong to assume that they weren’t part of a larger army. A much larger army.” The emphasis he gave to that last sentence made it clear to Smythe that Magnus was just as worried as he about the potential threat.
“Each Vampyre behind the curtain has his own lands and holdings, but they do so as part of the occupying force, “ Continued Magnus, “It seems that there are different factions within the Imperial Court however and that C’Lark doesn’t want to see Lord Miles succeed for his own reasons. Obviously if the Emperor had ordered this he would be more than happy to obey, or at least appear to. We’re still trying to work out the political ramifications.”
They turned as a group when one of the troopers shouted and when he pointed to the sky watched as thousands of the little triangles drifted down towards the city, riding the thermal currents caused by the fires from the bombing.
The blackened and broken hulks of aether-ships rested on some of the buildings, others less catastrophically damage drifted slowly away, losing altitude as they burned, more triangles filling the air as their crew jumped for their lives.
Magnus turned to a clerk standing nearby. Taking a map from the man, he laid it out on the floor for the others to see, “We’re not far from borders of the Eastern Fringe, the Emperor has been trying to subdue the Sidhe covertly through economic means as they’re not the natural enemies you would expect.”
Lady Ashdown snorted with laughter, “That we do know. The Vampyres have stables of Slavs for that because, the souls of the Sidhe are unfulfilling compared to humans. Our life spark is so much brighter, stronger as our lives are so short compared to the Sidhe”, pointing at the battle she smiled, ”I’d say that it’s safe to assume the economic measures have failed.”
“All this is wonderful to know, we have possible allies in the Sidhe, possible allies that will prove to be of a temporary and somewhat carnivorous nature and none of that helps the fact that we have a traitor somewhere out in that chaos.” Smythe gritted his teeth in frustration, gesturing wildly to the open countryside.
Magnus bowed his head in quick acknowledgement of Smythe’s words, “Indeed Major, however I do know that this city is fifteen miles from the Eastern Fringe and a mere twenty-five miles from the nearest Vampyre city.
No doubt our quarry is also aware of this, why else open a gate here? In his haste he must have made some miscalculation. How that must gall such a character!”
There was a sudden explosion of gunfire, troopers calling out in alarm. A shadow rushed over their little group, making them flinch reflexively. Smythe looked up and cursed as he saw that kites from one of the disabled aether-ships were swooping down towards them. The humanoids on them started to take pot-shots as they realised that the people on the ground were not their own people.
“Watch and shoot! Fire at will!” Smythe followed his own order, drawing both of his pistols and alternating shots between them.
“Ach, it’s like shooting fish in a barrel.” Von Adin had borrowed a rifle and was taking careful shots. Smythe found his respect for the German increasing as every round found its target, with their pilots dead the kites stalled and started to fall from the sky. Streams of firefly arced up from the machine gunners and blew ragged holes in kite and pilot alike. The remaining kites scattered and managed to hit a thermal to soar away from the convoy.
“Mount up! We have to be out of here before anyone else realises we’re here.” Smythe was already running for his side car, Pondersby pounding alongside him. With a cacophony of roars the motorcycles headed off in the direction of the Vampyre city.
*
It took nearly an hour for Lady Ashdown to pick up the spoor again. The plains that they were on were sparsely inhabited by aether-born or creature. Thank God life is so sparse out here, otherwise I’d be losing the damn trail every minute. She loved to hunt, and the fact that they were hunting such a dangerous prey filled her with excitement.
“The trail leads straight in the direction of the city, the Bishop was right,” She whispered, send it to Pondersby who was leading the convoy. He waved a hand in acknowledgement and made a slight course correction, the other troopers following suit.
She settled back to enjoy the ride, know thing with good all round visibility and a definite trail, the Motorcyclists could open their throttles wide. She loved how the motorcycles howled along, swooping over and down the gentle rises in the land, almost as if they were birds skimming along in search of insects.
With a jolt of surprise she realised that despite its title, the Eastern Fringe was not an obvious landmark, the only give-away being a hut she saw appear on the horizon. It was built in such a different way to the Sidhe dwellings they had skirted around that it was as if the dwelling had been designed to make a blatant statement.
She sent another whisper, “I’d suggest we cut around that hut. We don’t want to waste time on unnecessary combat.” Pondersby waved in acknowledgement again, signalling to his men to circling around the hut.
*
Smythe stretched and knuckled his back as Pondersby turned to him, “By my estimation we should only be a couple of miles from our objective. I’d respectfully advise that we deploy scouts and proceed in a more stately manner.”
The man’s gone up in my estimations, he’s clearly not the buffoon he wants us to think he is. Smythe thought as he chewed on some salted beef.
“I concur. Have them find a suitable camp. If that bastard Noble has made it to the city We’re going to have to enter it stealthily. It might be worth visiting the next dwelling and acquiring some local clothing.” Smythe saw Pondersby blink in what he assumed was surprise, Maybe he is a buffoon after all.
Fortunately the next dwelling was only a couple of rises away. Lying on the top of one, Smythe and Pondersby watched as a couple of troopers herded the two men they found there out into the open.
“There’s enough clothing, if we use what they’re wearing for six people. What do you want to do with them though sir?” Smythe liked the way that trooper had a hard-bitten look about him and the ribbons on his breast pocket testified to his battle experience. Glancing over to Pondersby he found himself wondering why someone with so little battle experience could be given a command whilst someone as experienced as the trooper had no chance whatsoever of reaching those exalted level.
“Can you guarantee that if you tie them up they won’t be able to get free within the next day or so?” he asked, gesturing at the two men.
The trooper paused, looking him straight in the eyes, sighed, and shook his head. “Not to worry trooper, not to worry,” said Smythe as he patted him on the arm.
He walked over to where the two now naked men were kneeling, lips tight, and his forehead hurting from the frown that creased it. Stopping behind them he paused and then, in one smooth motion, drew his Mauser and shot them once each in the back of the head and then once each just to the right of the left shoulder blade. The men were dead before they even had a chance to work out what was happening.
“Sir! I must strongly protest! You have just murdered civilians!” Every muscle in Pondersby’s neck stood out and his voice rose with the last word, a literal squeak of indignation. He strode stiffly towards Smythe, fists clenched and shouting all the time.
Lady Ashdown swiftly stepped between them, facing Pondersby and placing a gentle hand on his chest, “Look at me, Nigel,” Smythe wondered where she had found the time to learn his name, “Look at me.”
Pondersby had to physically tear his eyes from Smythe in order look down at her. She waited until she was sure he was looking in her eyes, “Good. Now listen. The Major, Hauptmann Von Adin, Serjeant Gubbins and I work for the Sanction. Her Majesty, Queen Victoria has granted us the power to do whatever it takes.” She placed a finger on Pondersby’s lips as he opened his mouth.
“Those men might have been defenceless but they were hostile civilians in enemy-held land. If we had left them, they would have escaped and prevented us from completing our mission. The survival of mankind is threatened by the actions of Lord Miles. The Major did the only thing he could. If he could have done anything else he would.”
Smythe stared at the anguished Pondersby, Even after all that happened on earth he still feels outrage at this! All he felt was resignation and a sense of relief that they would not have to worry about an enemy at their backs.
Pondersby spun, walking away without a word. Smythe laid a hand on Lady Ashdown’s shoulder. “Thank you. Thank you for understanding.”
*
Smythe slowly led Von Adin, Lady Ashdown, Gubbins, Magnus and Pondersby towards the city before. Unable to think of a sound reason to make Pondersby stay behind, he had allowed him to come, even though he still had misgivings about the man’s reliability.
She had said that the spoor was much clearer than it had been when they were near to the Sidhe city, saying that she thought it was probably to do with the nature of the Sidhe themselves. Smythe rolled his shoulders, as if something was pressing between them, as if someone was watching them.
It’s as if Poe himself built the bloody thing! He looked at the city crouched before them. Counting he saw that there were thirteen black towers rising from the city, each with their own set of houses nestled around them, some climbing up the base like lice on a hair, each surrounded by its own crenelated wall. The effect was somewhat like a honeycomb, spoilt by the inclusion of further buildings squeezed in between the various segments.
Bloody ugly place as well, no where near as easy on the eye as the Sidhe city was. His lip curled as he looked at the crudely-built, run-down and unkempt houses, They’re all so grey, as if colour hasn’t even been discovered.
The towers were different however. They were like roses set in a garden of gravel. Each seemed to be trying to be more garish than the other: one was an imperial purple, another a garish yellow, yet another looked as if it was covered in still-wet blood, another glistened a putrid puss-yellow which made his stomach churn, forcing him to swallow the saliva that flooded into his mouth.
The whole place is wrong, completely and utterly wrong, he felt desperation threaten to overcome him as he realised that there would probably never be a mutual understanding between earth-born and the Vampyre nation.
“Clearly the locals have issues not only with themselves but also with colour co-ordination. I hope to God the inhabitants don’t wear clothing to match or we’ll stand out like a sore thumb!” Smythe laughed at his feeble joke, the city seemed to suck the very soul from them.
They waited until it got dimpsy, agreeing that the poor light would help them to blend in more. The only weapons they felt were safe to take were their service pistols, shrapnels and long knives. “Hopefully, because it’s only dimpsy people won’t have lit lights. They’ll rely on their eyes and what they expect to see. At night they’ll take more care to examine us.” Smythe said, more in an attempt to reassure himself than the others. Getting in to an objective was often the hardest part, after that it was more a case of blending in and letting people’s assumptions do the rest.
Shortly after they set off they came across a road, merging with the slow moving carts and slavs who were heading towards the city from the fields that were starting to border the road.
Smythe was surprised that not one greeted them, barely even looking at them as they trudged, heads down and with sloping shoulders.
These people look the picture of absolute misery, at least we don’t have to worry about talking to any of them, observed Smythe.
The road gradually became busier and busier until finally they found themselves queuing to get into the city. There were guards on the gate, all dressed in long grey coat that flared out at the bottoms, black knee-high boots, and taller than normal top hats. The trim on the coats varied from man to man and Smythe realised that the colours matched those of the towers. At their sides hung a khillij, and they all had revolver rifles slung on their shoulders.
The guards did not attempt to check anyone entering the city and wore an air of superior boredom about them. Looking closer, he could see that they were considerably better fed than the peasants.
Tensing as they approached the gate, he led the group so that they tucked in behind a cart packed with bright red root vegetables, but the guards barely even glanced in their direction. As they walked through the darkened tunnel into the city, he looked up. The gate tower was massive in both width and depth. As with C’Lark’s fort, the entrance into the city was a long tunnel with murder holes, portcullises and thick iron doors. I hope that we never have to storm such a place, he shivered at the thought of British soldiers getting trapped in the tunnel as shot and boiling liquid was poured on to them.
Entering the city proper, it felt as if a weight had been lifted from his shoulders, taking a deep breath as if he had forgotten to do so whilst walking through. Knowing that to stop and gawp would make them stand out he kept walking slowly along the streets, taking in what sights there were and trying to get a feel for the place.
From what he saw, it appeared that the peasants from the fields lived outside of the tower enclosures and that they were considerably poorer than those who lived within. Those that lived within wore better clothing and sported the colour of their tower, always combined with the drab grey of everything else; albeit of a much finer cut and higher quality cloth.
Lady Ashdown drifted over to him. Even dressed as a man, with her cheeks muddied and hair tucked tightly under a cap she was beautiful to him.
“I still have the spoor. None of the field workers are capable of using aether so the trail is still clear. Some of the tower folk can, but that’s still rather rare. I’d say that aether use is strongly discouraged by the rules of this God-forsaken place.”
She led them past what looked like a tavern. It certainly smelled of tobacco, alcohol, piss and farts, as Smythe wrinkled his nose at the smell, but there was none of the ribaldry you would find in an earth-born pub. Everyone seemed just as dispirited and dour drunk as they did sober, sat with their heads down, shoulders hunched, barely muttering to each other.
Feeling as if he had entered the nightmare of a manic depressive that had a garish sense of what colours were acceptable, he followed Lady Ashdown turned round a corner. She stopped and slowly turned to them, “The spoor leads into the enclosure behind me, the one with the blood red tower.”