A Journey of Temperance (The Adventures of Ichabod Temperance Book 9)
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Authors: Ichabod Temperance
A Journey of Temperance
ICHABOD TEMPERANCE
Copyright © 2016 Ichabod Temperance
All rights reserved.
ISBN-13: 978-1530769919
ISBN-10: 1530769914
The Adventures of Ichabod Temperance
Volume One: ‘A Matter of Temperance’
Volume Two: ‘A World of InTemperance’
Volume Three: ‘For the Love of Temperance’
Volume Four: ‘A Study in Temperance’
Volume Five: ‘In a Latitude of Temperance’
Volume Six: ‘The Measure of Temperance’
Volume Seven: ‘The Seventh Voyage of Temperance’
Volume Eight: ‘The Title of Temperance’
Volume Nine: ‘A Journey of Temperance’
Table of Contents
Chapter Three: Bridge of Sorrow.
Chapter Four: The Dark One Knows.
Chapter Five: The Path of Adventure.
Chapter Six: The Witch and the Halflet.
Chapter Eight: HoofBeats of War.
Chapter Nine: Siege of Castle Everstone.
Chapter Eleven: In the Mists of Dismalia.
Chapter Thirteen: The Devil’s Bedpan.
Chapter Fourteen: Lair of the Dragon.
Chapter Fifteen: The Weeping and the Lamentations.
Chapter Sixteen: In the Dragon’s Eye.
Chapter Eighteen: Heart of Darkness.
Chapter Twenty Two: Truest Nobility.
Chapter Twenty Four: No Easy Victory.
Chapter Twenty Five: Double Indemnity.
Chapter Twenty Six: Trolling Thunder.
Thank you, Sergeant Turk, for the cover inspiration.
Thank you, Mr. A.L. Williams, for the additional graphic work.
Thank you, Wolfgang Metzger, for the silhouettes.
Thank you, nameless royalty-free clipart artist, for the nifty dragon.
Thank you, J.R.R. Tolkien, for opening the door to another world. Your delightful books have paved the way for countless other worlds to be born.
Of course, this, and all the Temperance works could never be, without the ever-patient kind and gracious assistance of my lovely muse, Miss Persephone Plumtartt.
One:
~~~
Enter
the
H
alflet
Infamy.
Clever tongues do lie,
false voices sing,
for Evil is under the Sun.
The land does cry,
at the loss of her king,
by the hand of a treacherous son.
-From the Epoch of Enauck
“Murderer! Patricide! Regicidal maniac!”
“No, father, please! It wasn’t me, it was Gneikllause! His spies have adorned me in false guilt for I would
never
betray you, my King Wøndärblitz!”
“Cease thy lies and treacheries! Too long have I allowed thee to drip thine foul poisons into my listening ear. There are no doubts that the noble Gneikllause is innocent of all the base charges against him. You, Gahrrienkzjch, falsely incriminated your own brother. What a fool I was to listen to your evil tongue! I am crushed to think that I banished your brave and honourable brother, my true son.”
“He is not worthy of being thy son, Sire! It is I that is being made to look duplicitous!”
“Your mother warned me of your deception but I did not heed her words, bless her sainted soul. By the Sun’s Unblinking Eye! Did you have a hand in her death as well?”
“No, Father, no! You can’t possibly think that, my King!Mother died of natural causes! Those vicious rumours of her having been poisoned are treasonous!”
“You are removing all those who stand between you and the throne! You covet my position! You traitorous swine! My own son! You have slain my beloved wife and had me exile your noble brother.”
“No, my father: all of these deceits can be traced back to that foul usurper, Gneikllause! His spies and assassins still haunt this castle.”
“The Elven High Council warned me against thee. I refused to listen. One of our world’s greatest Winged Nobility, Count TalonTierre, bless his reptilian heart, flew all of the way across the AppallingView Mountains to beg me to reconsider the banishment. He also reminded me of the prophecy. A son of mine would use mine own dagger to slay me. I now find that dagger in
thy
possession.”
“I’m sorry, father. I did not mean to take it without permission. I was just curious.
Please
take it back!”
“I do take back my dagger. It shall now stay upon my person at all times.”
“Oh, yes, of course father. That
is
a prudent decision.”
“Take a care, Gahrrienkzjch, I shall keep a close watch on... ooh!”
“Aren’t thou well, father?”
“My heart, … it seizes. My lungs, … won’t draw air.”
“Dear me, that does sound distressing.”
“You, . my son, . have poisoned me!”
“Yes, I’m so glad you still have the mental facilities to process that delightful fact.”
“The dagger’s handle, . the poison entered through the skin of my hand.”
“Quite so, father. You have led this world for Ages. It is long past time for you to go so that we can finally enter upon a new Age. This is the time in which I reign supreme!”
The Voyage.
Unrecognizable horror,
of terrible sound,
ripping teeth does the creation feature.
Screaming in terror,
springing frae the ground,
crawls forth the peculiar creature.
-From the Epoch of Enauck
“Gosh, Miss Plumtartt, ain’t she a glorious sight? In the magical light of a Florida dawn’s first reddish rays, our Cape Canavery launch tower looms high in the air above us.”
“Indeed, Mr. Temperance. I am accustomed to large-scale production in my life-long participation in the Plumtartt Factories and Shipyards. Yours, however, has been a project of a singular nature. Normally we construct ocean liners and battleships, but this ship will have us exploring an entirely new medium of travel. She will go boldly into a space where there is neither water nor air to support her.”
“It’s different, that’s for sure. I ain’t never been nowhere where you had to bring your own air to breathe, besides underwater. At least there, I figured out how to draw air from the water. The space that we are going to, will be completely lacking in breathable air.”
“I trust that your compressed air supplies will easily suffice for our short journey. I say, as I admire the cylindrical design of your vehicle, it reminds me of the barrage engine and celebratory device: the rocket.”
“Yes, Ma’am, Miss Plumtartt, Ma’am, it sure does, especially since it is topped by a big conical cap.”
“This launch tower for your mechanical rocket measures almost seventy feet in height. Smoke roils from the rear and steam billows from various ports from top to bottom.”
“Yes, Ma’am, it’s gonna take a lot of steam to make this big sucker go. Watch your step as we climb up this circular steel scaffold stairs to the ship’s entrance. I don’t want you to trip on that light purple, bustled dress of yours what with it being so stuffed with slips and petticoats and whatnot.”
“If you please, I prefer the term, ‘lilac’, as concerns my dress colour. One moment, sir, I wish to take one more view of my beautiful world before departure. There, very good. Now I am prepared to step into your upside down ‘rocket’. It really is a rather uncanny sight to see this tremendous engine resting on its needle point.”
“As we step inside, we will need to climb back down this ladder into the pilot seats. Oh, I see Mr. Morganstern is already here and ready to go. Good morning, sir!”
“You’re late, Temperance. Time is money and money doesn’t grow on trees. I am a very busy business man. I am a Baron of Industry and have no patience for lackadaisical dilly-dallying! Harumph!”
“I’m sorry sir, but we are actually twenty minutes early.”
“I expect all of my employees to be thirty minutes early!”
“Mr. Temperance is not an employee, Mr. Morganstern; he is a valued partner in this venture. Moreover, he is a gifted engineer, prone to a tinker’s inventiveness; thus we enjoy the fruits of his fevered imagination. He was touched with a spark of creative genius at the passing of the ‘Revelatory Comet’ and because of such, able to design this remarkable craft, eh hem?”
“What, what, what? A female on board! That is inexcusable, not to mention, unlucky. Blast it, Temperance, you little Alabama idiot, get that British bimbo off this ship immediately!”
“Eh hem, no, I think not, Mr. Morganstern. Though you correctly identified our origins, I resent the term you used in my identification, and contrary to all appearances, neither is Mr. Temperance an idiot. I am Persephone Plumtartt. We have not met previously, yet I assure you, I too, am an equal partner in this bold venture and primary financier.”
“This trip could be dangerous. Your feminine mind will be unable to cope with the stresses. Temperance, for her own good and our sanity, remove the female at once.”
“Now Mr. Morganstern, sir, I know you are a big, important, industrial tycoon, and all, but you need to take my word for it. Miss Plumtartt has got more brains and gumption than you, me, and your entire board of directors combined.”
“Well when she falls into inevitable histrionics, it will be your responsibility to lock her away in some storage locker or another.”
“Yessir.”
“Mr. Temperance!”
“Oops! I mean, let’s not worry about nothing what ain’t happened yet nor is likely to no how, hunh? Here you go sir, let me assist you with getting secured in your rotato-hammock.”
“Burbity. Blasted nuisance all these straps and belts and whatnot, boy.”
“Yessir, but they are there for your safety and comfort sir.”
“Please allow me to assist you into your swivel bunk, Ma’am.”
“Swivel bunk, sir?”
“Yes, Ma’am, it’s easier to say than ‘rotato-hammock’.”
“One sees the need for simple terminology, but would you explain the need for the restricting contraption?”
“The angle of descent and ascent necessitate a need for adjusting our seating.”
“I see. I will enjoy the company of Mr. Morganstern at my side, as you, Mr. Temperance, will assume the pilot’s cockpit directly ahead, that is, below us.”
“Yes, Ma’am. I reckon we’re all strapped in as tight as we can and are ready to to commence with this subway tunnel dig from Miami, Florida to Havana, Cuber!”
“Those casinos aren’t going to build themselves, Temperance. Blast it, boy, dig me a subway tunnel to fortune! This is the year 1877, and I would like to see this little journey completed in this same year! Harumph!”
“Yessir! I will first engage the sonic hammer.”
~
wah,wah,wah,wah,wah,wah,wah,wah,wah,wah~
“I can feel it working, y’all! The ground becomes unstable before us. I am now going to engage the driller/propeller head. Get ready for the maiden voyage of the good ship
‘Wyrmhole’
. Engagement in three, two, one, blast-down!”
~whirrrrrzzzzchchchchchchch~
“Woah! We’re off and falling fast! The sonic hammer is softening up the rock ahead of us so the the spinning drill head of the ship can hurl the broken rock backwards, and us forward at frightening speed! I am leveling off our descent, as the altimeter has us well below the depth of the ocean floor. Looks like we are on a course for Havaner.”
“Splendid, Mr. Temperance. Congratulations on bringing this remarkable ship into reality, sir.”
“Yes, woman, the
‘Wyrmhole’
is working properly. It better. I paid good money to see it constructed. Not only that, but I personally oversaw production. What did you two do? A simple, if gifted, engineer, to conceive and design this craft, and the female who owns the production facilities. Bah, I saw to it that this ship was built in a timely manner and even came in under expected cost projections. As we did not properly Christen this ship on her maiden launch, I propose that we do so now in a toast. I have a bottle of champagne, right here. Here’s to the continued success of J.P. Morganstern!”
~pop!~
~pa-ting!~
~thwock.~
“Unh.”
kah-whirrrrrzzzzch-ch-ch, whirrrrrzzzzchchch
“Mr. Morganstern! Your champagne cork has ricocheted off the front of our cabin to strike Mr. Temperance in the center of his forehead! He is struck senseless! He slumps forward over the controls and our ship plunges downward in an out-of-control spiral!”
“Be quiet, you foolish woman! Whoever heard of such a sissy, that he would be knocked out by an errant champagne cork? Wake that little fool up before he gets me killed!”
“As you can see, I am extricating myself from this ridiculous rotato-bunk, or whatever you choose to call it, as fast as is possible that I may climb down to the pilot’s hammock in order so to pry the slumbering chauffeur off of his joystick.”
“Harumph. Be quick about it, female. Burbity.”
“Mr. Temperance? Yoo, ho
O
O
O
O
OOO
, I say, wake up, sir, we are in need of a course correction, eh hem?”
“Hunh? What happened? What’s going on?”
“You are asleep at the wheel, Mr. Temperance. Please get this vehicle under control at once.”
“Yes, Ma’am, Miss Plumtartt, Ma’am. Hey, the ship is not responding! The controls ain’t working! I don’t understand; I designed this ship with several safety redundancies. If the hydraulic controls ain’t working, then the push rods ought to work, and if they ain’t working properly, then the cables ought to be giving me control, but it ain’t happening!”
“Burbity. Safety; over-rated in my book. Some people say, ‘safety first’, but I say, ‘safety third’, at best. Though under the circumstances, perhaps I was hasty when I cut the fat in all those control redundancies you had built in. Why, I saved this project thousands of dollars and helped to expedite production at the same time. The financial board was thrilled at my savings. Come now, Temperance, do something. Engineer some sort of solution to this minor setback. Harumph.”
“I don’t know if this here major disaster qualifies as a minor setback, sir. We are plunging straight down toward the center of the Earth and there ain’t diddly I can do to deter this boll weevil behemoth!”
“Do something, Temperance! You have to save me! I’m too important to die in a mundane construction mishap!”
“I’m doing all I can, Mr. Morganstern, sir. Holy Moly, but this here holey moley don’t want to quit digging till she hits Chiner!”
“I’m too rich to die! These things don’t happen to me; they happen to people like you, that don’t matter!”
“I say, Mr. Morganstern, but your blubbering histrionics are not a flattering reflection of your more manly characteristics. Please keep your emotions in check, sir. Now then, Mr. Temperance, what is your estimated time until we should breach the Earth’s crust to plunge into the fusion of molten activity that is our planet’s center?”
“Oh, I reckon it ought to be any time now, Ma’am. In fact, I do believe it’s getting hot in here already.”
“Eek! I’m going to be roasted alive! I have too much money not to live and spend it! If I die, my family will inherit my fortune! Those undeserving ingrates! Save me, save me, please!”
~burbity-buh-hoo, hoo, hoo, hoo, hoooo~
“The temperatures are soaring, Mr. Temperance. Metal surfaces of our ship grow too hot to touch. Your tongue hangs from your mouth, like some over-aged hunting hound on a summer’s afternoon. So too is your undignified panting also quite canine.”
~pant, pant~
“Yes, Ma’am, I’m sorry about that,
~pant, pant~
but it’s hot enough in here to boil an egg!”
“Burbity! Save me! I’m too important to be roasted alive!”
“I say, bear up, old sport. Please try to expire with a modicum of dignity, my good man.”
“Shut up, you unbearable female! Temperance, make your foolish woman be quiet!”
“Aw, she ain’t doing nothing but trying to soothe your hysterical and fearful emotions in this time of extreme duress, sir. You ought to do as she says and try to calm yourself. It’s working for me; I feel cooler already.”
“I say, Mr. Temperance, the ship is indeed dropping in temperature. Do you not feel it?”
“Yes, Ma’am, I surely do! Hey, how about that, Mr. Morganstern, it looks like we ain’t gonna die a fiery death after all!”
“Oh be quiet, Temperance. Don’t you see what’s happening? The temperature is dropping too much! Now it’s freezing cold in here! I’m too rich to freeze to death! Do something, Temperance!”
“Yessir. Well, you could climb up into the back of the ship. It’s bound to be nice and warm back in the boiler room.”
“The boiler room? Do I look like a coal jockey to you? Well, to keep from freezing to death, I suppose it would be acceptable if I went back to inspect the facilities.”
“Attaboy, Mr. Morgastern, sir.”
“
What
did you say?!”
“Oops! I mean, that’s very gracious of you, sir.”
“Harumph.”
“Mr. Temperance, once again, the ambient temperature of our subterranean carriage is in flux. I no longer sense a drop of temperature; rather, I postulate that it stabilizes at a reasonable level.”
“Yes, Ma’am, I think you’re right!”
“Quite, moreover, I direct your attention to our hammocks, rotato. These adapto-nomic examples of furniture are themselves changing their orientation. I would have you note that our swinging chairs have transferred their alignment. Where before, the front of this ground-craft was below us, we now look up to see where this ship would take us, eh hem?”
“Golly, you’re right, Miss Plumtartt, Ma’am. I reckon the direction has changed. Well Raise My Taxes, what do you know? I think we’re going upwards, y’all!”
“Upwards? Up! Uppity-burb! The ship is going up again! I am saved!”
“Quite so, Mr. Morganstern. Here is a hanky, as I am prone to keeping one handy up my lace-ended sleeve. Please sop up your tear-soaked face that we may make a good appearance when we make the Earth’s surface once more. I say, the rotato-hammocks indicate a direct, vertical ascent. This, I think, portends a short interval before we arise from our sub-terran excursion, eh hem?”