For a moment, I simply fell. I plummeted toward the mob below as if I were a stone. I could not help but imagine for a moment a group of constables shaking their heads over my broken body, amazed at my foolishness. Then the wing seemed to catch the air, attempting to arrest my fall as I descended. Workmen scattered and yelled as I dove toward them, apparently convinced that I had not slowed nearly enough.
Fortunately, the Daedalus did not concur with their perspective. As I held on for dear life, the metal wings continued to catch the wind and pull upwards. My fatal dive turned into a brilliant swoop which brought me only a hair’s breadth over the heads of the men below. Then I was rising, not falling, and the device bore me up as if it had a mind of its own.
I cleared the spikes atop the academy’s outer wall by a good measure and flew onwards toward the building itself. People behind me were yelling, and I imagined the Brigade and the constables both shouting in surprise and astonishment as I continued my exhilarating journey. Trying to fight the urge to whoop with triumph, I directed my wings to guide me toward the nearest edge of the roof. I hoped that from there, I could make my way into the building and locate the missing children and teachers.
Here gravity finally betrayed me. I felt a certain lessening of force within the wings that held me aloft, and when I looked up I noted that the glow which had once suffused them had faded. It was clear that the Distillation had only powered the invention far; I would be descending now, and soon enough I would fall. As the roof was now beyond reach, I directed myself toward one of the upper windows instead, with the hope that I would not land amid flames and die a futile death.
Rushing toward that thin layer of glass, I had a moment of doubt. Then came the jarring impact, the sharp sound of breaking glass, the sudden flares of pain along my sides and arms. With a terrible jerk, the Daedalus, too wide for the opening, was torn from my grasp. I managed to land on my feet, and kept from having to roll in the shattered glass. Enough cuts had already been gained by the crash; I needed no more.
I landed in the governor’s office, which was luckily untouched by fire. For a moment, I simply tried to regain my breath. The smell of smoke and fumes pervaded the air despite the efforts of my mask, and already I felt myself begin to sweat beneath my collar. There was obviously not much time before the flames reached this room as well. Stumbling forward, I reached for the door handle and found it hot.
The heat encouraged me to withdraw for a moment and search for some cloth to wrap around my hand. I then turned the handle and opened the door, careful to keep the wooden barrier between myself and the hallway beyond. Almost immediately, there was a burst of flame and smoke, one which likely would have smothered and blinded me had I not brought some means of protection. As the fury of the back draft expended itself, I decided to risk the corridor and stepped around the edge of the door.
What I found beyond was a glimpse of the fires of Hades. Fires lined the decorative hallways, and the smoke was so thick that even Patricia’s goggles struggled to penetrate it. In many places, I could see that the carpet had also caught fire, turning the hallway into a kind of gauntlet made up of flame, smoke, and ash. A lesser, or perhaps more, intelligent man might have reassessed his commitment to the cause, or at least sought a new entrance. I, fool that I was, merely rushed forward, hoping to reach the missing children before the flames did.
I found that nobility is little protection against the heat. It was not long before I was covered in sweat and soot, and the heat of the air quickly made my throat feel raw. Still I forced myself to move forward, passing the classrooms one by one as I searched. The first few were almost entirely engulfed in flame; no one, Changling or not, could have survived. As to how they had become ablaze so quickly, I noted that they each had a metallic barrel placed inside, similar to some of the oil barrels we had seen at the foundry. Some distant, analytical portion of my mind decided that these barrels had been the objects smuggled over the wall, but I set aside the information for a less occupied time.
When I reached the fourth classroom, I heard voices on the other side. They were weak and thready, but there was someone still alive. The door had been locked from the outside using some kind of makeshift device, but a hard blow or two with my cane made quick work of the contraption. I yanked the door open, comforted by the fact that the handle was not scalding hot, and found a larger room, obviously some sort of lecture hall or auditorium. Peering through the smoke, I saw a small group of children huddling with a pair of teachers.
The group had taken shelter from the smoke and the heat in one of the far corners of the auditorium. I shouted to them over the roar of the flames, and a man wearing a sentry uniform looked up and spotted me. With a quick motion, I shouted again. “This way! There’s a room down the hall that is clear.”
Immediately, the students and teachers began to move. They filed past me, a few of them looking up at me in a beleaguered, terrified manner as they went. I continued to usher them down the hall until one of the guards grabbed my hand. He shouted to make himself heard, forcing the words past a wracking cough. “The arsonists are still in the building! They took one of the students and went down to the Forge.”
To my horror, I realized that I had not seen Audrey among the students, and knew that she had been the one taken. I leaned in close. “Are there any other groups left? Which way did the arsonists take her?”
The guard shook his head. “We were the only ones; everyone else escaped. They went down that way towards the tubes, but I don’t know if tubes are still working.”
I nodded. “I will go after her. Try to signal to the people outside so they can get you out.” There was a shout from the other direction. It sounded like the bellow of an ogre. I gave the guard a shove down the hall and retreated to the auditorium. “Go now!”
As the guard stumbled down the hall, I concealed myself in the smoke and waited. Moments later, a group of men came down the hall. I recognized them as members of Rook’s gang, particularly the Changlings who walked among them. All were wearing protective suits of some kind of insulating fabric, as well as a mask attached to a tank they carried on their backs. I presumed that the tanks carried fresh air, for they showed no signs of choking on the smoke they walked through.
The men must have caught sight of the fleeing students, for they gestured to them and shouted muffled words to each other. They started down the hallway, several of them retrieving weapons from pockets or sheaths. I waited for them to pass by until I recognized the figure of the elf who had assaulted me previously. He carried some sort of wide-barreled weapon attached to a large gearworks. More conveniently, he traveled at the back of the pack of crooks, which gave me an opportunity I was loath to pass up.
As the elf passed my hiding spot, I laid both hands on my cane and swung it at his head. It connected with vicious strength, and the elf dropped without a cry in a boneless heap. The others showed no signs that they had noticed his absence, and I busied myself retrieving the contraption the Changling carried. It had a selector switch that I immediately cranked up all the way, which sent the gears spinning madly. Flickers of lightning sped between them, and I smiled behind my mask as I brought it up and level with the criminals.
I gave them no warning. When I pulled the trigger, a fountain of electricity shot out towards the men. The energy swept across the group as I turned the gun from side to side, crawling across their protective gear as I held the trigger in place. Lightning leaped from the poor fellows and struck the carpeted floor and walls, adding little fires to the flames already burning. One by one, the criminals crumpled to the floor and lay stunned.
The ogre, however, remained standing. While he seemed to be in great pain, he still turned and charged toward me. The lightning gun ceased firing; it had apparently run its reservoir of energy completely dry, and the complicated mechanism showed signs of malfunction. I calmly set the weapon aside and drew out my own pistol as the ogre closed with me. As he came within arms’ reach, I lowered my aim and shot him in the ankle.
The ogre’s muffled scream must have even reached the fleeing guard, for he turned back to look. I ignored him and focused on the Changling, who swung at my head with a meaty fist. Stepping to the side, I leveled the end of my staff with his forehead and triggered the mechanism inside. The sheath launched itself into his face with a crack, and the ogre staggered backward. He fell as an axe struck tree would have, and for good measure I used my newly bare sword to chop through the air line for his tank. His muffled cries were suddenly replaced by horrible coughs, and he quickly slipped into unconsciousness.
Satisfied that he was unlikely to threaten me again, I turned back to the elf. A quick search of his body turned up exactly what I needed, a length of rope long enough to reach the ground. I heard footsteps approaching, and looked up to find the guard and two teachers returning. Impatient, I waved to the unconscious criminals. “If you insist on helping, take their masks and start heaving the criminals out the window. They should survive the fall, and it will be good to have someone to arrest for what they’ve done once this is all over.”
The nearest guard managed a question. “What about the kids? How do we get them out?”
In answer, I hefted the rope to him. “Let them down using that, and then get to the gates. The Brigade should be able to help you there.” He nodded, and then they started to busy themselves with the task. I turned to start toward the nearest set of stairs. After all, my journey was far from done.
Neither was my poor luck finished by any means. I had scarcely taken a handful of steps when the floor suddenly trembled beneath me. I stopped, my eyes going wide behind Patricia’s goggles. A terrible groan rose above the roar of the fire, and it occurred to me that now would be a very good time to be elsewhere.
The floor gave way just as I tried to leap forward. My abortive attempt to escape the hole was too late; my feet found nothing but empty air beneath them, and even as I tried to grasp the edge of the broken wood, I came away with nothing but flaming splinters. I fell into the Forge, and I heard flames roar beneath me. Desperate for any way to arrest my fall, I drew out my bullet shield and opened it, attempting to use it as a parachute. For a moment it even seemed to work, and then the device was wrenched from my grasp before I reached the ground. I wondered what Patricia would believe had happened, and then everything came to a sudden, crunching stop.
I found myself lying in the smoldering wreckage of a worktable. My mask and goggles were still in place, which I found to be a fortunate thing considering the smoke and fire surrounding me. There was a faint taste of blood in my mouth, which hopefully was merely the result of a bitten lip, but I could not be certain. Though I was in incredible pain, I had been quite fortunate indeed to land on a table and not the hard floor of the Forge.
Around me the Forge burned. The smoke was thick and dark, and it pooled at the ceiling in a roiling, thick layer. The flames here burned brightly, a blue-whitish color that told me the Distillation was involved. Such things as the elements were primal in nature, and the crystal fed their growth far more than any natural fuel. At times the inferno almost seemed alive, seeking to consume and destroy among the various experiments and workshops.
Though my experience with such things was limited, I knew that only harm could ever come from staying. Unlike the foundry, there were no obvious piles of flammable material, but there were likely far more dangerous and explosive things scattered about. With the Distillation, caution and avoidance were far better than cavalier arrogance. I needed to find Audrey and escape before the entire Forge was obliterated by some invention set alight.
As I struggled to my feet, I found my goals considerably delayed by the sight of a workman staring at me in astonishment. He wore the same air tank and other equipment as the others, and held a small pistol in his hand. The moment lasted for only short while before he turned back and yelled something muffled by his mask. Then he brought the pistol up and fired.
The shot went wide, but the message was rather clear to me. I scooped up my sword and retreated back through the Forge, using every opportunity to place the various partitions between me and my pursuer. It quickly became apparent that he had been joined by his fellows, for multiple shots struck the wooden walls and stone barriers I passed.
Resigning myself to the fact that a confrontation was inevitable, I made a quick check to satisfy myself that what remained of my equipment was still there. Then, as I ducked around yet another corner to the accompaniment of a salvo of pistol shots, I came to a stop. The wall here was solid enough to shield me from their attacks, and on the other side was a terribly familiar—and explosive—compressed air tank. It was a elegant spot for an ambush. The footsteps of the workmen drew closer, and I readied both my pistol and sword for their arrival.
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The first of the workmen came around the corner at a full run, and I greeted him with a slap in the face from my pistol. His nose broke beneath the blow. As he fell backwards onto the floor, one of his companions arrived. I stabbed my sword at him, and he retreated fast enough that the third man collided with him. Before they could recover, I leveled my pistol at them and fired. The shot struck the air tank, which hissed for a moment before it caught fire. There was just enough time for me to back away before the tank exploded, scattering all three men in separate directions.
The blast barely reached me, and I once again took shelter behind the wall. Surely Rook had more men than only these, and those who remained would likely be attracted by the commotion. Confident in my strategy, I waited in ambush for them, hoping they would be as foolish as they had already been. Heavy footsteps approached, and my smile lessened as I tried to judge their approach.
I had only a moment’s warning before the wall burst beside me. Showered by bricks and fragmented mortar, I staggered blindly away. There was a heartbeat of hesitation as I saw Rook’s towering form, and then I dove away from his following strike. Still stunned by the Changling’s sudden arrival, I continued to back away as he advanced. His deep voice reached me clearly in spite of his air mask.
“My master has given me very specific instructions regarding you, Mr. Kingsley. Because of your continued interference, I’m afraid you will have to die here.” Rook bent to collect a double handful of the bricks that lay scattered at his feet. “Rest assured that I consider it nothing personal, but I will not disappoint my employer simply to let you live.”
He then reared back to throw the bricks at me, but I had recovered enough to fire my pistol at him. The bullet struck him in the arm, and while it lacked the force of Patricia’s carbine, it still managed to stall him somewhat. I then took the opportunity to conceal myself behind another partition. Two sharp cracks marked the arrival of Rook’s projectiles, and seams appeared in the wall.
Deciding that discretion was the better part of valor, I continued my retreat as Rook hurled chunks of brick. A few parting shots did little more than annoy the golem, and he followed after me with an angry bellow. I eventually abandoned the use of my pistol entirely and tucked it away beneath my coat. In its place, I drew out Patricia’s specialized brass knuckles, in case the golem somehow managed to close the distance without my knowledge.
As I moved, I noticed a portion of the Forge where the fires were much less intense. I remembered the undine, and realized that she likely would create such a space simply out of habit. Since Rook did not have Audrey with him, it was likely he had left her with another of his trusted companions, and who would be more useful in a blazing inferno than an undine?
I worked my way past burning vats of chemicals and smoking tables to get closer. The threat of Rook’s bricks grew less as he fell further behind; his golem’s pace was not well suited to a lengthy pursuit. A hiss of water putting out a fire drew my attention, and I knew I was near my goal. Creeping past a crowded workspace, I crouched down by a wall and hoped that Rook had lost my trail. As I did so, I heard voices.
The first was a leathery voice, one that seemed ancient and deep beyond reckoning. “Where have Rook and his thugs gotten off to, Meribeth? Can you explain why one mere private investigator has become such a nuisance?” The contempt in that voice brought a cold feeling to my heart, despite the intense heat of the fire. I nearly made my move then, but I convinced myself to wait until I could get closer.
The second voice answered the first as I slid closer. It was high and feminine; I had indeed found Rook’s undine friend. “You should have more faith in us, sir. We have done everything you asked for.”
“What I asked for was the simple destruction of a children’s school. Does it look as if we have achieved a satisfactory result, Meribeth?” There was a deep snarl, something that might have come from a giant beast. “You have all been a grave disappointment, but get me Hector Kingsley and all will be forgiven.”
“Of course, sir.” I had reached the edge of the wall, and I could begin to peek around the corner enough that I could see the undine. She stood straight and tall, but something about her posture suggested utter subservience. “It will be done as you requested.”
I began to edge out further in an attempt to see her co-conspirator, but another figure drew my attention. At Meribeth’s feet, I saw the figure of Daniel’s sister. She had obviously collapsed from the heat, and it was just as clear that the undine showed little concern for her prisoner. Such disregard, compounded with the hostility the Changling had already shown to Daniel’s sister, stirred my anger yet further, and I searched for some way to draw the undine out so I could rescue the girl.
My eyes fell on a workshop which had been doused by the undine’s watery influence. There were a few smoldering remnants of flame within it, but for the most part, it seemed to be a safe haven by comparison to the burning portions of the Forge surrounding it. It would be a perfect refuge for me once I had recovered Audrey.
The next object which caught my attention was a heavily damaged support pillar. It appeared to be holding up a small platform, but the base had nearly been entirely eaten away by the flames which surrounded it. I saw the possibilities almost instantly. Now I merely lacked a way to distract her, and then I would be able to finish the task I had set out to do.
There was a sudden bellow from behind that told me that my evasion of the golem had not been nearly as successful as I had assumed. I ducked down just in time for a chunk of brick to smash itself to pieces against a nearby compressor. Rook charged in, his heavy feet pounding the stone floor like twin pistons. Though slow to gain speed, he had apparently managed to build enough momentum that even backing away quickly was no use. My fingers tightened on Patricia’s brass knuckles, and my other hand twisted the trigger for the mechanism within them. Then I crouched and waited for him to come.
Rook seemed surprised, and then pleased, that I did not continue to flee. A hissing sound rose as the undine prepared to support him, but the golem waved her away. His desire to pummel me into the ground was obvious, and he strode confidently toward me. The first hint I had of an incoming strike was the same jackhammer movement that had ended in the ruin of my staircase. I dodged to the side and his boot cracked the stone where I had once stood.
While the leg was still extended, I pivoted and brought the brass knuckles around. I caught a glimpse of a smirk from Rook’s lips, as he was confident that knuckles or not, my hand would most likely simply glance away.
Then the punch made contact, and Rook cried out in shock and surprise as he felt a blow beyond anything even Patricia’s carbine had delivered. He staggered to the side, clutching at his leg. I did not intend to give him any time to recover. While he was still stumbling, I launched myself after him. My second punch connected with his midsection. Rook uttered another shout and folded up around his stomach. A third blow to his temple staggered him backwards, and he fell heavily against a wall that crumbled beneath his weight.
I had a single brief moment of triumph before a painful jet of water struck me and nearly swept me from my feet. The one good effect, however, was that the overwhelming heat lessened for a moment, but that was cold comfort as I struggled to turn and face the undine. A second jet of water worsened the situation by drenching the floor around me, turning it into a slurry of water and soot that steamed and hissed.
With effort, I kept my feet and drew my pistol. A single shot forced the undine to dodge, and a glance told me that Rook had still not regained his feet. My brief struggle had, however, distracted the undine enough that Audrey had been left behind. It was an opening I could not ignore.
I continued to fire at the undine, hoping to keep her from focusing enough to attack me again. As I shot I ran, sprinting directly toward Audrey. My clothing smoked and steamed as I left the brief shelter of cool air. The undine shot another jet at me, which went wide, and I returned fire with another two shots. Then I was there, and I tucked my pistol away to lift Audrey under one arm, still running for the safety of the nearby workshop. The undine screeched in rage, Rook bellowed, and I ran harder. I made it just before another jet of water struck at my feet again.
Laying Audrey unceremoniously on the floor, I brought out my pistol again and looked out from behind the table. I found Rook and Meribeth standing together, obviously preparing to retrieve their prisoner and deal with one particularly frustrating investigator. Unluckily for them, they also stood directly beneath the shadow of the burning platform with the damaged support.
The first pistol shot shook the platform. It also drew Rook’s attention to the pillar, and then to the platform above it. A look of dawning horror grew on his face as the second shot tore into the wooden support, and the pillar began to tremble and sway. He reached for the undine as I fired the third shot, to warn her or throw her aside, I did not know. I would never know, for that third shot snapped the pillar in half and brought the platform tumbling down directly on top of them.
The undine’s water bathed the platform and smothered the fires; Rook attempted to catch the burden in his hands. Neither effort made a difference, for the platform buried them as if they had been caught by an avalanche.
I stayed under cover, motionless. When neither of them emerged, I let out a long breath and turned to consider Audrey. I found her in desperate straits; she had no mask to provide her with clean air, and it was obvious that she had not benefitted from the long exposure to the noxious gas. My own mask would not fit her, or I would have gladly made the exchange. The only solution was to find an exit, and soon.
A search of the surrounding area gave no sign of an exit; all I could see was fire and smoke. More distressing was the fact that the smoke above had started to show signs of a future catastrophe; light had started to flicker through the undersides, as if it were lightning in a storm cloud. Ominously, the heat had begun to increase substantially, and I wondered if the entire Forge would explode.
Then I heard the sharp sound of breaking glass, and I looked up to find the smoke starting to rush towards a new opening. Light filtered through the smoke, and I caught sight of a figure half standing against the rush of air. I heard, to my shock, Lord Devonshire shouting to me over the rising din. “Hector, come on!”
Needing no further encouragement, I gathered Audrey in my arms and sprinted for the broken window. The heat had continued to rise, and the flickering in the smoke had grown much more intense. Smoke had stopped flooding out of the window; the fire seemed to be breathing in, pulling the air outside into the conflagration. Just as it seemed that we would reach the window, the air seemed to stand still, and I knew we were out of time.
I jumped for the window, and a roar built behind me. Devonshire grabbed me and pulled, and we all three tumbled out into the open air under a gray sky. Above us, flames shot from the window as if a dragon had breathed it, and smoke rushed out after it. I hit the ground and watched as the fire, the heat, and the smoke bent skywards, no longer a threat. Beside me, Devonshire coughed and pushed himself up from the ground. His fine suit of clothing had been scorched and stained by fire and smoke. He coughed, and for a moment it seemed that a wisp of smoke left his nose. The nobleman glanced towards me. "Are you alright, Hector?"
I nodded, and reached up to detach the mask from my face. "I am sir. Thank you for your help. We would have been lost without it."
Devonshire nodded. "Good, good. Let's move away from the building, shall we?" As if to emphasize his words, the flames above began to blaze more fiercely. I lifted Audrey in my arms and both of us began to make our way out toward the gates. There we found the other students, teachers and guards, all of whom had been isolated and quarantined by the Brigade. I sighed as I realized that I looked forward to such treatment as well. Audrey began to cough, and I paused for a moment to pat her on the back to revive her. The fit soon passed, and she settled back down to a drowsy rest.
As we reached the gates, Daniel and Patricia both managed to break through the solemn lines of brass-suited Brigadiers, and I gave them both a reassuring smile. “We made it. She’ll win through Daniel.” The young professor nodded, relief and tears in his eyes. Patricia, on the other hand, looked as if she was not sure if she wanted to punch, hug, or yell. I decided to help her resolve her confusion by taking the goggles off my head and handing them over. “I’m afraid they might be a bit worse for wear, but here they are again, Ms. Anderson.”
She slugged me in the shoulder. “You’ll make it up to me, Hector. I’m sure of it.”
The pain in my arm was a welcome price to pay for her smile, but I said nothing further. The clouds above rumbled briefly, and a gentle sprinkling of rain began to drift down upon us. Angry workmen had begun to disperse, shepherded by equally angry officers of the law. Tearful reunions were taking place across the isolation lines as students and teachers reassured each other of their safety and well-being. I was safe, though likely bruised enough to need rest for a few days, and the criminals behind the entire catastrophe were arrested or gone, likely buried beneath the wreckage of the school they had sought to raze.
Yet something was not right; something kept the moment from being perfect. It was the last figure, the one I had never quite seen, the one who had apparently financed the whole expedition against the academy. He had avoided my investigation completely; could he also have avoided the fire? I glanced back at the great inferno that now burned in the heart of the former school, still a mighty blaze in spite of the lightly falling rain.
Whether he had survived or not, what purpose could he have possibly had in destroying a simple school? It was rapidly becoming obvious that the workmen, with their outrage and bigotry, had merely been a cover for the true motivations behind the scheme. Just as the messages scrawled on the walls had diverted our attention from the true intention to smuggle in flammable barrels, the workmen and their motivations had only shielded the real reason for the crimes. Who could have gained something from the situation?
My gaze was drawn, almost unwilling, to where Lord Devonshire stood. Somehow, in spite of the isolation being imposed by the Brigade, he had managed to speak with the reporters from various news scripts, who just happened to be on hand. They were asking questions about his daring rescue of the man and young girl from the inferno. He responded in a solid, unhesitating tone, condemning the attack and urging others to join him in solidarity against it. Those who were listening were nodding appreciatively, and expressions of admiration were near universal. I watched him, stared really, and tried to tell myself I was wrong. That in spite of the profit and power he appeared to reap from the tragedy, it could not have been Lord Devonshire who arranged this tragedy and now stood there, invulnerable in his triumph.
Oblivious to my horror and disbelief, Daniel finally spoke, his voice choked with emotion. “Well, Kingsley, at least this whole thing is finally over.”
Devonshire turned and met my eyes, and for a heartbeat his face seemed to change. Again I felt the weight of that reptilian stare, calculating and cruel. Smoke again seemed drift from one of his nostrils, as if hinting at an infernal nature I had scarcely begun to guess. Then he smiled, and the warmth and friendly demeanor had returned, a mask that he wore for his audience. A mask that in that instant, I knew I must remove. Not now, but someday. Someday soon.
“No, Daniel.” I gave him a grim smile of my own. “I believe it is only just beginning.”