The Dragon Engine (28 page)

Krakka fought for a while, as Beetrax slapped away his fists and ever-weakening struggles, and then Krakka was still, and finally, it was over.

Beetrax looked up through waves of pain and disorientation, to see Val and Galog there. They were wearing curious expressions, and in a moment of intuition Beetrax realised how it worked with the dwarves. Dead Men's Shoes. They had not intervened, because now there was a new position available. The mine needed a new Slave Warden.

“Guards! Over here!” bellowed Val, and crossbows were levelled at Beetrax, who was too weak to struggle as fresh shackles were placed around his wrists. They did not even bother to remove the broken ones.

This action was performed on the other Vagandrak heroes, and their heads lowered in submission and defeat.

“Well, you won your little victory,” said Val, smiling his nasty smile, the smile which haunted Lillith's dreams. “But the penalty for murdering a dwarf by any slave is death. I condemn you all to death.” His head turned and eyes fixed on Lillith. “Except you, little princess. Lock her back in the barracks. The rest of you?” Val grinned. “We're going to feed you to the Dragon Engine.”

C
hief Engineer Skathos
, Jengo, Hiathosk, Kruallak, Lellander, Yugorosk and Kew sat in various positions on the great sweeping spiral staircase that led down into Wyrmblood, and stared with open mouths, rubbing grit from their eyes, coughing occasionally, their faces like those of an amazed young dwarf on his birthday.

Skathos was the first to get to his feet, and he stamped his boots on the great staircase, as if testing it for solidity. He was nothing if not thorough, and having a brain which worked like an engine, understood machines,
developed
machines, he found this staircase mechanism most unnerving.

Jengo jumped up, and placed his hand on Skathos' arm. “Shall I run back? Tell Cardinal Skalg? Tell the king! You will go down in history for this discovery, my friend.” He was staring at Skathos with shining eyes.

Skathos breathed deeply, his own eyes wet with tears. This place,
Wyrmblood,
was a myth. Said to be a tale to tell little children, a place where the dragons which powered their cities had originally ruled.

Without answering, Skathos started forward, boots clumping down the steps, face lit with the reflected gold of the dulled, precious buildings spread before the group in this vast, titanic array of opulence.

Jengo stared at the others. Hiathosk shrugged, and started down after the Chief Engineer. After all, he was in charge.

The others followed, and Jengo ran down several steps until he was behind Skathos, who was picking each step with care, his head swinging slowly from left to right and back again. In the background there was a gentle, low-level hissing sound, and they realised it was the flow of the molten platinum river.

Skathos reached the bottom of the steps, and paused, staring at the golden cobbles which snaked away before him in a wide, winding road, as if perhaps thinking this was all some mirage, some ale-induced dream, and when he stepped onto the cobbles the road would vanish and he'd go toppling, screaming and flapping, into some great black void.

His boot came down with a thud. Skathos knelt, and his fingers stroked the rough, uneven surface of various cobbles, each one subtly different, his fingers spread out, examining the textured surfaces by touch.

“They are warm,” he said, and stood again, looking back at the other engineers. “The roadway is warm.”

“I think we should head back and tell Cardinal Skalg,” said Jengo, uneasily.

“Why?” It was said with such a casual air, Jengo was left flapping his lips for a few moments before he frowned.

“Because…
because
he's the First Cardinal of the Church of Hate, and this is the most important find in the last ten thousand years! Don't you see, Chief Engineer? We have to tell the people in power! We have to tell… those who are our betters, and who can make the right decisions!”

He stared at Skathos, who stared back. Slowly, Skathos smiled. “I am the Chief Engineer,” he said, voice low, soothing, as if he were talking to an injured infant. “This is our engineering find. We don't
know
this is Wyrmblood. We certainly need to explore first, in order to ascertain what we are dealing with. Don't you agree, Hiathosk?” He said it without turning.

“We wouldn't want to look like fools by making an incorrect diagnosis,” rumbled Hiathosk, carefully. “And I, for one, would like to be one of the pioneers who first inspected Wyrmblood
,
if this is Wyrmblood, so that my name, too, goes down in the history books for future generations to see and for my family to be proud. I would be making my mark on the world.” He gave a sideways look at Jengo. “Aren't you even the slightest bit curious?” His arm swept out, gesturing towards an array of low buildings. Now, they could see the very building blocks of the structures were fashioned from bricks of gold and silver. Windows glittered like polished crystal. High pointed roofs met, and were crowned by rubies and emeralds. “Don't you want to see what's here before Skalg and Irlax banish us, never allowing us to return to what they may deem a Holy Place? Because that's a very real possibility. They might keep this place for themselves.”

Jengo looked torn. “I- I'm not sure…”

Skathos patted him on the back. “I tell you what, faithful Second Engineer Jengo, you head back now and tell Cardinal Skalg – if that is what's in your heart. I will not complain. Indeed, I give you my most heartfelt blessing! Because you are correct, we should all honour the Church of Hate.”

Jengo nodded, and gave him a nervous smile. “Yes, yes, Chief Engineer Skathos. Thank you for your permission. You know how I respect the Church of Hate above all else; I could not for one moment allow Cardinal Skalg to believe I did not go to him at my earliest convenience in order to share our wondrous find. After all, this does not just affect us few engineers – it affects the whole of the Harborym Dwarves! The entirety of the Five Havens!” His eyes were gleaming with a pious light.

“Go then, with my love,” said Skathos, smiling and pointing.

“Thank you, Chief Engineer. Thank you.”

He turned and placed his boot on the spiral staircase, turned and gave a nervous smile, then started to climb, boots clumping, the metal of his chainmail glowing almost golden from the low-level warm light which filled this place.

Skathos watched for a while, until Jengo had climbed maybe twenty steps, and he turned to Hiathosk, who was watching him from behind heavy, hooded lids.

“Hiathosk.”

“Yes, Chief Engineer?”

“A No.3 Goolak Throwing Hammer, if you please.”

“Yes, Chief Engineer.” He unhooked a small, specially weighted hammer from his belt and handed it to Skathos, who weighed the weapon thoughtfully, a frown on his face as he made several decisions. Then he rocked back on one hip, half-closed one eye, tensed with the throwing hammer in his grip, and launched a powerful throw which spun, the hammer turning end over end as it whipped through the golden air.

The No.3 Goolak Throwing Hammer caught Jengo in the back of his unprotected skull, bouncing off to clatter to one side down the black spiral steps. Jengo hit the steps flat on his face and did not move.

“A fine throw,” rumbled Kruallak. “Worthy of the Underworld Championships, no less.”

“Thank you,” said Skathos. “Hiathosk. Go and check he is dead, and fetch your hammer.”

“Yes, Chief Engineer.”

“And Hiathosk?”

“Yes, Chief Engineer?”

“Congratulations on your promotion to Second Engineer.”

T
he engineers moved
down golden cobbled roads, past low buildings, then turned onto a street filled with towering temples. Spires and minarets soared and sparkled above them, the structures vast and much bigger, much taller than any human city. They moved to one, where an iron door ten times the size of a dwarf door sat encrusted with precious gems, and Kruallak placed his hand on the great handle, glancing back at Skathos for confirmation. Skathos nodded and he weighed down the lever. The door swung open on silent hinges, great and ponderous, revealing a cool interior, again lit by some low-level ethereal glow. Benches were arranged in formations, leading to a magnificent opulent altar, sporting many golden religious statues and symbols, each one a complex masterpiece in its own right.

“I have a question, Chief Engineer,” said Hiathosk. He was frowning. “If this
is
the lost city of Wyrmblood, City of the Dragons, then why is it so… human? There are doors, temples of worship, roads. What use does a dragon have for roads? Or door handles, for that matter?”

Skathos frowned. “I had not considered it, but you are correct. This is more like a human city, but on a vast scale.”

Yugorosk gave a cough. “Maybe, Chief Engineer, it was to accommodate the slave race?” The group stared at him, and he coughed again, then continued. “In some of the ancient stories, the great wyrms ruled; but they kept slaves who did their bidding, and could be used as food. So, humans kept like cattle.”

“And this is where they lived?”

Yugorosk shrugged. “I read it in a school book my youngest brought back a few months ago. I was reading to him late at night. I thought it fanciful at the time.”

“We must explore further in,” said Skathos. “Let us proceed.”

T
hey followed
a gold cobbled road which led to the river of molten platinum, and then turned to follow the river's banks. It moved, a sluggish snake of silver, and a pathway along its banks was fashioned from crushed obsidian.

After a while, in the hazy distance, they saw three massive towers. They loomed above all other buildings, and for once, and in contrast to this place, they were black. As the dwarves grew closer, they saw each tower was a simple, smooth, vertical cylinder, but at the top the cylinders arched into one another, in a curiously organic-looking flow, almost like the great tentacles of some vast sea creature. The towers sported no doors or windows, no precious gems, no markings of any kind, and as Skathos finally led the way to the foot of these vast monoliths, they stopped and stood and stared upwards.

“This feels like something of importance,” said Skathos.

“I'm beginning to find this whole place creepy,” said Yugorosk. He gave a little shiver. “It's the silence. It's unnatural in a place so big.”

At the base of the three towers, there were no doors, but massive archways leading to vast, dark interiors. Skathos moved and stood at one entrance, reaching out, his hand pressing against the gentle curve of smooth black. He ducked his head inside a little, and stared upwards.

“What's inside?”

“They're hollow, like chimneys,” said Skathos. He turned back to his engineers, each one looking nervous in the golden light of this underground place. “There are iron ladders fixed to the walls.”

The engineers stared at him, then crossed and stood under the massive archway, also gazing up.

“That's a long way up,” rumbled Yugorosk.

“I can go alone, if you like,” said Skathos, his voice low. “But I have a feeling, an intuition, in here,” he pounded his breast with his fist, “that up there, at that summit, will be the answers to many, many of our questions. We will learn the secrets of Wyrmblood, my friends. We
will
be the most famous and celebrated Harborym Dwarves who ever lived – do you understand? And not only that,” his eyes were shining now, his lips wet, “I also believe we will discover the magick for imprisoning the dragons,
our
dragons, Moraxx, Kranesh and Volak – for I believe this was their home.
This
is where the Great Dwarf Lords found them, and bound them in magick, and created our Dragon Engine. Do you understand?” He grabbed Yugorosk, his hand crushing the powerful dwarf engineer's bicep, shaking him a little. “Do you fucking
understand
? Up there lie the secrets of the Dragon Engine – the secrets of the Great Dwarf Lords. We could change history, my friends. Damn, we are
creating history
!”

The engineers stared at him. More than one licked nervous lips.

“Now isn't that worth some risk?” growled Chief Engineer Skathos.

“I'm coming with, you,” said Hiathosk.

“Me too,” said Kew.

The others agreed, and they stood there, like a small band bound by blood and honour and an oath deeper than anything they had ever before experienced.

Skathos led them deep into the darkness, and grasping the rungs of the nearest ladder, which was warm under his touch, he placed his first boot on the lowest rung with a metallic scrape, and began to climb.

I
shift and swirl
, swimming in oil, trapped and patient and weeping for my lost children and my lost family, for my sisters, for my life. And yet I felt it. I felt them break the seal. And this is good. For it means I am close to my memories, or rather, closer to regaining my mind, my body, my soul… all in a unity capable of beautiful destruction. I can feel their petty souls, like tiny specks seen from leagues above the land, where once I rode the warm currents and looked down on those who filled their hearts with so much hate.

I feel like it is raining in my mind, diagonal sheets of icy drops, slanting down, each one a shining memory returning, and I realise that I need these intruders, I need the connection to bring it all back, to make it work.

And so I reach out, and I can feel their tiny minds, feel the wavering in their fragile shells, feel their weakness, their lust for wealth and power and fame, and yet they are ruled by the core lode of cowardice that runs through every fucking creature on the planet. So I conjure an image I remember from my past: cheering crowds lining streets and castle battlements for heroes. I inject these fragile shells with strength, courage, and a need to find out the truth about their history.

You will be famous, I breathe.

You will have endless wealth, honour, female slaves, nobility for your families. You will live forever in the history books. You will be the heroes of your people, the saviour of the dwarves, for you will discover the truth about the Great Dwarf Lords and you will change the hierarchy of your world, of the Five Havens under the Karamakkos; and for this you will become the greatest heroes the dwarves have ever known.

Climb, heroes!

Climb…

The answer to your questions lies above.

H
iathosk paused
, curling his arm over an iron rung and hanging there, sweat in his eyes from his lank hair, and sweat dripping from his beard.
By all the Gods, by the Seven Sisters, this is fucking stupidly high. If we fall, we'll be flat dwarf bread!

“Don't stop now!” growled Chief Engineer Skathos from above. “We're nearly there! And you'll see, we will be the greatest heroes the dwarves have ever known!”