Moonlight
filtered through the mist that rolled over the Downs, momentarily
turning everything a ghostly white before the moon slid back behind
the clouds. Heavily loaded, the brougham rumbled along empty, winding
roads and passed a small, still harbor. In the moonlit sea a few
fishing boats bobbed, resting for the night --unlike the brougham's
two passengers.
As
it wound over the final hill, the sprawl of Svenfur came into view,
stretching away before them. Amid the smog stood the beacon of the
Terminus, its structure towering over all around it, glass and steel
stretching for the heavens with the promise of adventure.
Cedo
sat silently, watching as the world passed by, not knowing if he
would ever see it again. In his soul lay the haunting fear that he
may never return. He had read tales about the Dynasty in the
periodicals. Tales of torture camps, forced pregnancy, and strange,
unspeakable creations. People, it seemed, had gotten word out of
horrific public executions, secretive organizations hidden beneath
the mountains, and odd beings in the skies. But he knew, despite all
that he had read, that he had to try and find Erus, even if it cost
him everything. Beside him, Billy rambled on, his voice a distant
whisper, sounding as if it were drifting up from beneath the earth.
Words were jumbled together, making no sense to the worried Cedo.
Beside
them the city jerked by as the carriage stopped and started, Svenfur
as wide awake and playful as ever. Pedestrians
charged across the road while carriages and trade carts and trams and
omnibuses and the ever-multiplying walking machines crammed the road.
All of them bottlenecked around the Terminus, trying to avoid the
gaping, steam spewing holes burrowed beneath the buildings and
streets. Beside the holes, clutching placards and with sandwich
boards hooked around their necks, stood a small army of red-faced
protesters. In amazement, Cedo stared at them, unable to hear their
screams over the noise of the city. Scrawled upon the boards were
words demonizing the building of the subterranean railway. It would
break apart the country! It would break apart the globe! It would
release the trapped spirits of the evil dead to walk the earth!
Cedo
sighed and sat back as the protesters glared into their carriage,
eyes bulging and mouths spraying white froth upon the window, as if
Cedo and Billy were the evil dead they so feared.
"Bloody
idiots," Billy hissed.
Lifting
his eyes, Cedo nodded, his mind a million miles away, floating on the
gentle breeze to wherever his Master was.
The
Terminus was alive with the bustle of late night departures. At every
platform stood a giant locomotive, stretching upwards and brushing
the arched roof of the building, miles of multi-layered carriages
curving away behind them. The entire city seemed to have descended on
the Terminus as people moved around, boarding the massive steamer
trains that would carry them to the ports in the east and west and
aboard ships or dirigibles. Whistles, bells, voices, and the rasping
of metal crowded the air in an overwhelming cacophony. Standing amid
it, Cedo watched as one train began to pull out, wheels rolling
uselessly against the rails before grabbing purchase and
beginning to move forward, several hundred tons of metal and wood
creaking behind it. As it eased out, so another arrived, signaling
its arrival with a blast of a booming horn. Beside him, as tall and
proud as when they had first met, stood Billy, silent for the moment,
his hands clasped around the handles of the trolley piled with their
belongings. The nerves grew, rolling over him in waves of cold
anticipation and dread. He knew not what they would face, knew not
what lay beyond the coast of their country. Stomach churning, he
looked to Billy, blues eyes nervously returning his glance.
"You
buy the tickets while I go and find the train."
Nodding,
Billy turned to leave but, before he could depart, Cedo caught his
friend's wrist and pulled him back. Draping his arms around Billy's
neck, he gave him the gentlest of kisses. "Thank you," he
murmured, "for all of this."
Arms
tightened around his waist, the hustle and bustle momentarily
forgotten. "Never a problem, Cedo, mate."
Giving
him one last smile, Cedo leaned his weight against the trunk-laden
trolley and moved to find their train.
Flames
spewed from the twin smoke stacks of the locomotive as Cedo pulled up
alongside it. A roar filled the air as it let off steam, scalding
water streaming from the boiler and onto the tracks below. It was a
sight to behold, the engine and its multi-layered carriages. Pipes
trailed from the near-invisible roof of the Terminus and into the
engine, feeding it with water and power. Cedo paused to admire it, a
great beast, slumbering for a moment.
Walking
the immense length of the train, Cedo counted off the
carriages. First class would have afforded them an entire story of a
carriage to themselves, complete with dining room and luxurious,
thick beds, but it was a price that Cedo was unwilling to pay.
Perhaps on the way back, if they were successful and still had money.
Cedo had no idea how many people still used first class, especially
when going overseas, not now that airships were becoming the norm.
Second class would give them a room, barely big enough to contain
them both no doubt, but it would afford them privacy, a bed, and a
table on which to finalize their plans. Third class may have sufficed
but it would have meant a cramped seat in a packed carriage. Lastly,
there was cattle class. Which was exactly that, the class for the
poorest of the poor, the lowest of the low who, for a florin or two
could travel with the farm animals destined for slaughter.
They
had not reached that point, at least not yet.
Pushing
the trolley along the carriages, Cedo walked until numbers painted on
the dark wood changed from 1 to 2. Each carriage door had been swung
open, showing off bustling porters, spiral staircases, and passengers
beginning to fall into a state of relaxation.
"Needin'
an 'and there, sir?" Wheeling around, Cedo found himself face to
face with a smartly dressed porter. Gold piping decorated his dapper
red uniform and his eyes twinkled as he adjusted the red and gold box
hat on his slick, greased hair.
Cedo
leaned against the luggage. "Indeed, I do need a hand."
"Good
on ya, sir. Good on ya." The boy, who could not have been much
older than he and Billy, reached into a pocket and pulled a book from
it. "'ow many bags you got, then?"
Trying
not to appear flustered, Cedo allowed his eyes to roam over the
trolley, its cargo beginning to list, threatening to spill its
contents across the platform. "Two trunks and two carpet bags.
The map tube and satchels I am going to take on board with me."
Licking
his thumb, the porter leafed through the book, pages of pink slips
flying through his fingers. Tearing four from the book, the porter
proceeded to attach them to the luggage before handing the four
identically numbered stubs to Cedo.
"There
ya go, sir. Keep those about ya good person and when ya get to the
other end, 'and 'em to the porter there. 'e'll fetch ya luggage for
ya. Now go an' get ya self comfy on board an' I'll do the rest."
With that, the boy grinned and leaned on the trolley, hand stretched
out.
With
a weak smile, Cedo reached into a pocket, produced a variety of small
change, and dropped several grubby and worn coins into the boy's
waiting fingers.
Collecting
the satchels and the metal map tube, Cedo watched nervously as the
boy rolled the luggage away. Along the underside of the carriage,
several doors had been flung upwards and, into them, a myriad of
different sized trunks were gently being sorted and stacked, all of
them bearing colored tags. Looking at the crumpled ones in his hand,
Cedo noted the consecutive numbers, all of them preceded by 2/2;
carriage two of second class, he guessed.
Tossing
the remainder of their luggage over his shoulder, Cedo grabbed the
handle beside the door and heaved himself up the three protruding
steps and into the vestibule of the train. As with the outside, the
interior was covered with dark paneling. Small electric lamps jutted
out from the walls, a narrow spiral staircase twisting up before him.
To the left of the staircase was the door that led to the
lower level of the carriage; there would be two more above him.
Without a thought, he climbed, ignoring the second level and making
his way to the third. The staircase led to a narrow corridor,
curtains drawn over the rooms that were occupied. Cautiously, as if
he were intruding on some private world, Cedo made his way along the
corridor until he found an empty compartment. Sliding the door open,
he stepped in and, with a sigh of relief, dropped the bags onto one
of the beds.
As
he had suspected, the room was nothing to sing about. It had two beds
that pulled down from the walls. They became sofas once returned to
their folded positions. Between them was a table, varnished and
embossed with the red star insignia of the railway. Upon further
inspection, the door beside one of the beds led into a small water
closet, which, to Cedo's relief, was far grander than he had
expected. The railway appeared to like to keep its second class
passengers happy and had provided soap, towels and wash cloths.
Sitting
on a bed, Cedo leaned against the window, stretching his legs along
the neatly folded blankets. Suddenly he felt weary, his eyes dry and
becoming heavy. No longer could he read the dining menu that sat upon
a shelf beside the door. For the past few days they had not stopped,
and now his body reminded him of that, muscles aching and leaden. His
head rolled against the glass and he let his eyes begin to fall shut,
the nausea of nerves throbbing away to nothing. Erus was out there,
and hopefully still alive. It was a daunting task, traveling so far
on the words of a simple, coded message. But he had to do it, not
just for himself, not just for Erus but, it seemed, for the future of
the country.
Smells
and sounds assaulted his dozing senses, coal dust and steam,
announcements and the constant squeal of metal against metal. Cedo
could feel himself drifting, his body giving him reminders of the man
he was chasing, a man who had loved and hated him in equal measures.
But he had shown that he could fight as well as Erus and he was not
going to let any animosity between them cloud the task at hand.
~~~~
Selling Mars is now available from Torquere Press and all good retailers:
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