Legacy of the Clockwork Key (25 page)

I held the key at my chest while using my other hand to hold back the loose strands of hair pulling from my braids in the wind. It rustled through the budding branches. “I don’t see a ship.”

Of course, I hadn’t seen Gearhenge either and it had been right beneath my feet.

“Meg, Will, this way. Quickly,” Oliver ordered. Lucinda was already turning a bend in a path between the twisted trees. They must have been some of the last medieval remnants of what once was the southeastern edge of Sherwood Forest before farmers, roads, and railways cut it apart. We followed through blankets of wild bluebells on the verge of bloom, trembling in the sweeping wind.

Oliver stopped and turned a slow circle in the center of the copse. Each enormous trunk had been weathered and worn into muscular curls of wood and bark. The trees huddled together like a coven of witches at some pagan ritual with their bony arms and knotted fingers reaching over our heads.

Oliver ran his hands over the bark of the nearest tree. “Now where was it?” He thumped his fist on a curl of wood before moving on to the next lumpy trunk. “Lucinda, do you know?”

“My father worked on the island with the Leviathan team.” Lucinda picked a tree to our right, patting and pressing the bark.

“What are we looking for?” I asked, thumping on the tree nearest me.

“There’s a secret latch in the bark of one of the trees. It should respond to pressure,” Oliver answered.

I patted and thumped every odd lump, but didn’t find anything more unusual than a chattering squirrel’s stash of acorns. In my haste, I stubbed my toe on a root and fell forward, my hands landing hard against the trunk.

Clunk!
Something very untreelike echoed from within.

I jumped back as Will trotted over. “I think I’ve found it,” I called. A series of sharp
tick
s rattled through the air. A crack opened where the bark split and curled over a small archway formed by the tree’s bark. The inner section of the bark split with a loud
snap
and opened inward, revealing a narrow hollow pocket inside the tree.

Will peered in, then let out a low whistle and tossed in a rock. It disappeared into the darkness, clicking a couple of times before falling silent. “That is a long drop,” he commented. I took a step back. There was something about deep wells and holes that always unsettled me. If you fall, there’s no way out.

“Do you see the ladder? It’s the only way into the chamber beneath the hill.” Oliver cocked his head as he reached my side. “Hopefully it hasn’t fallen into terrible disrepair. Meg, do you still have the goggles?”

I reached into the pouch and retrieved them, though my fingers trembled. We’d have to climb down a ladder? I didn’t care for this one bit.

Oliver fixed the goggles over his eyes, with his wild hair curling just above them. He turned a lever and they hummed as the outer edges glowed with green light. The black lenses seemed to swirl, as if they held restless smoke within them.

He dug his fingers into a groove in the bark, then leaned in and peered down the hole. “The ladder seems solid enough. It doesn’t look as if there are any missing rungs at any rate. I’ll go first just in case. Take care on the way down.”

Oliver lowered himself into the hole and began his descent into the pitch. Lucinda followed next. Planting her hands on the loamy earth, she stepped down the rungs, catching the half-buried top rung and lowering herself into the deep.

“Let me go,” Will said. I nodded, not wanting to admit this frightened me far worse than flying. I pulled on the leather gloves Lucinda had given me, terrified my palms would get clammy and I’d slip.

Will sank into the hole in the tree, steadily moving downward through the earth as if he feared nothing. I looked over my shoulder at the path and silently wished I could just stay amongst the bluebells.

I bit my lip and turned so I could crawl backward onto that first rung. My foot dangled in the air. I couldn’t see where to step. Clinging to the base of the tree, I braced myself against the trunk and slid lower until my toe found the rung.

My stomach twisted. Digging my fingers into the groove in the dirt at the top rung, I leaned back. My weight shifted over the hole, and I felt the nothingness, the deep empty void beneath me, as if it was a living thing with its mouth open wide ready to swallow me whole.

Nothing held me to the ladder but the strength of my hands. One slip and I’d fall. I simply didn’t have faith in my ability to hold on.

I eased down, reaching below with my toe. It found the next rung. Gripping the ladder, I lowered myself, finding the next rung and the next, clinging to the iron bars as tightly as I could. Cold damp air wafted up from the chasm, raising gooseflesh on my arms as I clung to the icy steel and listened to the clanging of footfalls on ladder rungs below.

Oliver’s voice echoed from below. “Meg, if you are in, feel to the right for a lever. It will shut the door.”

He wanted me to let go? Had he lost his mind? Then one hand, just five fingers, would stand between me and certain death.

My heart thundered and it took all my effort to pull my hand open and reach for the lever. Without a double grip on the rung, all sense of security fled. I felt as if at any moment I’d tip backward and fall into the blackness. I yanked the lever down and then grasped the rung again, holding so tightly I felt the ache of it in my palms.

The door above my head closed with a rattling
boom
, plunging us into darkness. Bits of pebble and dirt from the edge of the door tumbled down, down, down. The soft clicks echoed off the cold metal walls of the shaft, then nothing, nothing but the damp smell of earth, rust, and stagnant water.

Bloody hell.

I edged lower, reaching for the next rung with my foot. I felt the bar and I put some weight on it.

My foot slipped.

I gasped. My hands locked as I pulled my body as securely as I could against the ladder. I couldn’t move. I couldn’t let go. I tried to breathe in, but my chest constricted. My arms felt as solid as strawberry jam. I wouldn’t be able to hang on forever.

I was going to fall.

“Meg?” Will’s voice reached up to me. It brought with it a dizzy wave of warmth. He was just below me. I fought to take in a real breath. It came a bit easier.

“I can’t move.” My voice shook as I said it. I couldn’t open my eyes. What good would it do if I did? We were in a narrow shaft within the earth. Surely this was what it felt like to descend into the grave.

Or fall to hell itself.

“Just take a step down. I’m right below you,” he said, his voice ringing loudly in the closed space.

I wanted to. I tried. Every time I shifted to take a step, my body shook with such terrible tremors that I felt I would pull the rungs from the wall. I couldn’t make my foot lift, no matter how much I willed it to.

“I can’t.” My voice sounded like a broken sob, and my shame burned me.

“Don’t move. I’m coming up.”

Move? I twisted my wrists, holding on to the rung with all my strength as I felt it vibrate. What was he about? How could he come up?

I felt him then, his hands reaching the rungs on either side of my legs. His body brushed upward, sliding along the backs of my thighs as he pulled himself up behind me. A shock like lightning caught fire within me.

His arms closed in beside mine, his hands sliding over my hands as I felt the heat and pressure of his body sheltering me
from the terrible dark. I could feel his touch in every part of me as his thighs cradled mine and his feet found purchase on the same rung I stood on. His breath curled against my neck just below my ear as he squeezed my hand.

“I’ve got you,” he murmured. “I won’t let you fall. One rung at a time. We’ll do this together.”

A wave of dizziness swept through me. I felt as if I were falling, but his steady hand closed over mine. “One rung at a time,” he said again, his hot whisper kissing my ear. “I need you to let go.”

My body shook as I felt a hot tear slide over my cheek. I forced myself to take a deep breath and pulled my hand open. I could feel the heat of Will’s palm through my glove as he leaned in tighter, sheltering me from my fear and the dark. He guided our hands lower, until my fingers touched hard steel.

I clenched the new rung as his hand slid around my waist and he eased me downward.

“Now the foot.” His calm assurance couldn’t ease my panic enough to allow me to lift my foot on my own, as I felt him lower his body, urging me to follow. With my leg pressed against his, he led us down, guiding my toe to the next rung.

I exhaled, my breath leaving my body in a shaking rush.

“Good.” I felt his lips brush my neck. “One at a time. Just one at a time.”

Hand, foot, hand, foot, we fell into a rhythm as his body slid against mine with each slow step downward. Surrounded by his heat and strength, I could no longer focus on the dark or the terrible height of the ladder. The world became no greater than the steady circle of his arms and the heavy pulse of my heart beating so loudly it seemed to echo through the chamber.

My arms and legs ached with effort, and my insides fluttered with such power I thought for a moment I might float back up to the tree. It seemed we’d been climbing for hours. Overwhelmed and undone, I could no longer form a thought in my head.

Finally I heard Oliver and Lucinda shuffling below.

“You did it, Meg,” Will said, his voice deep and hoarse. “It’s not far now. I’ll help you down.”

His body slid down mine, then fell away, leaving me cool and breathless. My heart wouldn’t stop pounding beneath my breast. I gritted my teeth, determined to do these last few steps on my own.

Will’s hands slid over my hips and clasped me about the waist as if his arms belonged there.

I let go of the ladder, and turned, wrapping my arms
around his strong neck instead. He lifted me down as the rush of dizzy elation stole the strength from my legs. I didn’t think I could stand. I’d been so overwhelmed by my fear.

“Thank you,” I whispered, shaking.

“You’re welcome.” He held me, his lips nearly touching mine.

I couldn’t stand, couldn’t breathe. Surely my feet were not touching the ground, for I could not feel it. Only aware of his closeness, his touch, I waited. My anticipation twisted through my shaken body as I longed for him to kiss me.

The hiss of an oil lamp broke the silence, and my eyes stung with the sudden stab of light. One by one, a procession of lights flared to life, illuminating the chamber.

Wincing, I scrambled away from Will. I blinked, only to see a very smug-looking Lucinda and Oliver staring at us.

Oliver was still wearing the goggles, and grinning like a cat in a room full of canaries. “Afraid of heights, Meg?”

“No.” I scowled at him, rubbing my skirt to try to ease the shaking in my hands and weak feeling in my knees. Will was doing his best to look innocent, but it wasn’t working. “Only ladders.”

“I guess you won’t be the one scaling the rigging, then,” he stated as a matter of course.

I was about to say something else to the smirking inventor, but I lost my words as I stared into the deep chamber before us. The hill where we had stood above the lake was merely a shell. Now we were within a great carved cavern, closed off to all daylight by enormous doors that must have formed the sheer cliff face on the outside.

I gazed in wonder at the ship moored in a wide canal. Its sturdy hull had been patched together with plates of brass and iron. A row of small doors for the cannons had been fitted with interlocking gears. There were also three large brass ports, great circles with teeth, just above the waterline. No ship I’d ever seen had looked anything like this.

Three surprisingly short masts jutted up from the decks, and the lamplight glittered on the enormous wheels set next to them.

“Would you look at that?” Will took a couple of steps closer to the ship as Lucinda lit another lamp.

“Mare-ee-ment,” he said, sounding out the ship’s name. “No wonder it didn’t defeat the monster. It’s hardly a name that would strike fear into the heart of the beast.”

My eyes took in the shining letters along the side of the ship.

Merriment.

It seemed the perfect name to me.

Lucinda lifted the lamp off the wall and followed Oliver to the gangplank. “They patched her up. I didn’t think anything would ever repair the hole the Leviathan smashed in the side.”

“Is she still seaworthy?” Will asked.

“She doesn’t have to be, least not any more than what is required to stay afloat,” Lucinda said.

“Isn’t that the most important part?” I questioned.

She let out a huff. “Simon wrote several pages on the construction of the ship. The ship is chained to a carriage on a rail beneath the water. Once the carriage starts down the track, it will pull the ship to the right location, then keep the ship from drifting too far away from the monster during the battle.”

Drifting away from the monster sounded like a fine idea to me. Being stuck on a track meant there was no way out of the fight should the battle turn against us.

Will seemed as skeptical as I. “That doesn’t mean she can’t sink,” he whispered to me.

As we walked over the gangplank, the light from Lucinda’s lantern reflected off the smooth black water beneath us, turning it to shining glass. With the lowered masts and the patched hull, I imagined myself stepping onto the deck of a ghost ship.

Lifeless automatons slumped in the shadows. They had
all been fitted with the ornate blue coats of the navy. Their faces were smooth blank plates. As I passed one, my own visage reflected back at me from the mechanical man’s empty face and I shivered.

We climbed over large pipes and rails running across the surface of the deck, a framework of brass connected directly to the automatons’ legs. They must serve as rails for the crew to move about the deck. Large cogs emerged from slots in the deck, connecting the levers and wheels above to whatever was hidden below. We reached a door leading into the cabins beneath the higher deck in the back of the ship.

I pushed the door open, and it yielded with an ominous creak. We entered what appeared to be the captain’s study with a large desk, and a harpsichord facing the windows in the back.