Clockwork Fairy Tales: A Collection of Steampunk Fables (43 page)

Stovepipe was shaken loose by the sudden change of speed and he fell to the ground, landing hard. He lay there gasping for a moment and then scrambled back up to his feet, watching with frustration as the Steampiper thundered toward its escape route, in pursuit of the fleeing children.

But Berta and her column of little ones had already ridden safely through, and just as the Steampiper inserted itself into the narrow pass, an avalanche of logs descended from above. They cascaded down the steep walls, some rolling like wheels, while others tumbled and bounced end over end. The logs piled up, blocking off the pass amid a colossal cloud of dust.

Under the influence of the magic crystal fire, the Steampiper was moving too fast to stop short of the obstacle. It collided with the makeshift barrier in a massive banging and twisting of metal, spraying of steam, and crunching of split lumber. Its pipe organ emitted one final, sorrowful note before it expired forever.

Stovepipe’s elation at the machine’s demise was short-lived, however, for almost immediately a giant shadow fell over the scene.

The airship was on the move.

Its mooring lines trailing along the ground, the immense craft drifted majestically toward the crash site. The impact of the ironclad’s collision had knocked Crossley flat against the pipe organ, but he was now on his feet, signaling the flying machine with semaphore flags. The ship maneuvered itself in the air, propellers whirring, so that its foremost mooring line reached the upper deck of the wrecked ironclad. The Piper discarded his signal flags and seized this rope, ascending it with the agility of an inchworm.

Stovepipe looked back and observed that the airship’s rear
mooring line dangled invitingly just a few yards away. He leaped at it, grabbed the rope, and clung to it as the airship turned and began to rise, hoisting him aloft. Crossley was now almost aboard the ascending craft.

The airship dipped and turned, then picked up speed as it rose above the canyon rim. Stovepipe was swung left and right. He tried desperately to climb the rope, but despite the firm purchase his hands found on its thickly knotted hemp strands, he could not manage to get it gripped between his boots. He dangled helplessly.

Whoever was piloting the airship must have observed his plight, for they began turning the craft erratically in an effort to fling him off. Finally they dangled him level with the canyon rim and proceeded toward it at top speed to smash him against the rocks.

But as the stony rim approached, Stovepipe let loose of the rope and tumbled free, mitigating the impact by dropping downward many yards as the momentum carried him forward. He struck a gravelly patch and came to a stop, winded and exhilarated, bruised but uninjured. Wasting no time, he climbed up and over the canyon rim, noticing as he did that to his left and right were woodcutters, armed with long-range rifles, finishing off the last of Crooked Scar’s raiders. He scrambled down the outer wall of the canyon, making his way to where he could see, even through the starry dark of night, that several horses were tied off and waiting.

Thursday whinnied in greeting as he stumbled toward her. He was climbing into her saddle when a familiar voice cut through the dark.

“Herr Stovepiper!”

He was astonished. “Herr Fooks!”

The old man appeared from behind the other horses. He held up Stovepipe’s beloved Winchester and thrust it toward him. “Zee repairs are completed!”

Grinning, Stovepipe caught it in midair. “Is it loaded?”

Fooks chuckled. “Vut use is a rifle vich is
not
loaded?”

Stovepipe levered a round into the chamber. He slapped the reins against Thursday’s back and kicked his spurs dully against her flanks, the sparking charge in his boots long depleted. Thursday set off at a brisk trot that transformed quickly into a full gallop.

The airship….

Stovepipe could barely see it now, a black oval against the starlight sky, but there was still a chance.

The horse thundered across the prairie, her rider bouncing hard in the polished leather saddle, struggling to rotate the small pewter crank embedded in his rifle’s wooden stock. Eventually he turned the horse toward the steep upward incline of a hill, but instead of dismounting, he proudly rode Thursday to the peak of the rise. There he swung from the saddle and lifted the rifle to his shoulder. Bringing its telescope up to his eye, he triggered the light beam generator. The side of the distant aircraft lit up in its brilliant ray, providing a perfect target.

Stovepipe took aim and squeezed the trigger.

T
he hot, steaming water felt delightful against his bare skin, but at the moment his greatest pleasure was the company he kept. The laughter of the Freiburg twins was sweet music as they splashed him playfully and bounced in the deep, hot bathwater.

Stovepipe was still astounded by how quickly Kauffmann had converted the crashed ironclad’s boiler into a source of steam for his long-planned bathhouse. Equally impressive was the speed with which Freiburg, following a tearful reunion with his scalp salvaged from Crooked Scar’s belt, had so efficiently cannibalized the same twisted metal wreckage for the components of a massive new brew kettle.

“Zo, tell us, Herr Stovepiper,” asked one of the girls, “zee Pied Piper vuss killed ven his flying machine was shot down?”

Stovepipe smiled. “No, he got out while it was still burning and ran for a cave in the hills, the cave where he’d entombed all of the rats. It was blocked with a huge stone, but he used magic powders from his belt to move that. I pursued him inside.”

“Zat is where you killed him?” asked the other girl.

“I merely gave him a
push
…into a pit at the rear of the cave.”

The twins looked at each other and then back at Stovepipe. “He’s still in zee cave?”

“Well, I can’t imagine there’s really
anything
left of him by now.” Stovepipe smiled and added quietly, “After all,
rats must eat
.”

One of the girls let out a shrill squeal and nearly leaped out of the water.

Stovepipe grinned. He was now certain she was Gerdie, for in these intimate circumstances he had no difficulty telling the two shapely young women apart. His only problem, in fact, was choosing between them.

The wooden door of the steamy bathing chamber creaked open, letting in a chilly gust. Stovepipe’s breathing stopped and his heartbeat quickened.

Standing in the doorway was the Pied Piper.

Then a sweet laugh broke the spell.

Berta Freiburg stepped inside, still wearing the pied hat Stovepipe had given her, and wrapped in a bulky robe that oddly resembled the Piper’s shiny coat.

Relieved, Stovepipe let loose his breath again. Then his brow furrowed. “Berta, uh, what are
you
doing here?”

Smiling widely, the youngest Freiburg reached up and unfastened her robe, casting it aside. Beneath it she wore a bathing gown, but this, too, she immediately discarded. She eased down herself into the steaming water to join them, whispering mischievously into Stovepipe’s ear.

“Papa tells me,” she said, “you’re the kind of man who likes to try
all three.
”

E
leanor stood in the shadow of her father and watched him slip the golden ring on the finger of the wickedest person in any of the floating cities. Her protestations, her scream of outrage lay still on her tongue like a painful stone. One that she would gladly have spat out into the world—but dared not.

Faine Escrew was tall, beautiful, and the richest women in all of the sky. She also had a heart as dark as a moonless, starless night, and not an ounce of pity for any living creature in her blood. As she turned and looked over her shoulder at Eleanor and her brothers standing on the steps of the palace below her, a smile lingered on her lips. It was one that some might have said was beautiful, but that the princess knew was more of a smirk than anything else.

King Ivan had long ago passed into Faine’s iron grip—anything that Eleanor said now would be wasted on him. However, her brothers were not so circumspect. Iain, the youngest of the king’s sons, and of the eleven the closest to his sister in age but furthest in temperament, could not keep his words to himself.

“Snake,” he whispered under his breath, his blue eyes narrowed in hatred. Too late, Eleanor shot him a look to silence him. A slight shift in Faine’s back told that she had heard Iain’s comment.

All unaware, the aristocracy and common folk of the City of Swans watched their monarch marry his second wife. Perhaps they hoped he would not have quite so many children with this one, but more likely no thoughts at all occupied their minds. Madame Escrew had that effect on people. The dirigible city relied on her trade for its mere existence.

Every ship in this city, tethered one to another, filled the envelopes of their airships with gas mined from her mountain estate. Those ships that could not afford the precious æther from the Escrew Conglomerate would eventually be cut loose from the city as a whole and be allowed to drift downward into the boiling earth beneath the clouds.

It was a fair enough reason not to stand against her, but it didn’t make it any easier for Princess Eleanor.

Farthest down the stairs stood Eric and Merion, the eldest of her brothers. They were whispering to each other, not bothering to even try to be covert. Eleanor had eleven brothers, and all of them were far too rash.

Finally the ceremony was over, and the priest proclaimed them husband and wife. As the crowd cheered—somewhat weakly, Eleanor thought—the couple retired into the bowels of the cathedral ship to begin the arcane rite of crowning Madame Escrew queen.

Eleanor released an angry sigh, spun around, and walked down the steps toward the knot of princes waiting for her.

Eleven brothers. The other cities, particularly Eagle and Owl, were jealous of the surplus of sons the King of Swan City possessed. Eleanor could tell them it was not everything that they imagined, especially for a lone princess. Much as she loved her brothers, sometimes it felt as if she were floating in a sky full of men. At times like this, in fact.

Instead of complaining, she led the way back to the palace with not a comment to her brothers except for a curt look. They
fell into step around her, all varying shades of blond and brown hair. Just like that, her feelings toward her brothers changed. Instead of swallowing her, this phalanx of tall men were providing comfort. Now they were her own personal army.

She knew full well that was what Madame Escrew feared.

On reaching the palace, Eleanor ignored the throne room, drawing them all up to their study. It was here they learned of the history of the City of Swans, mathematics, geography, and navigation. Here and now, Eleanor would be the teacher, her brothers dutiful students.

Eric, the eldest at nearly thirty, sat himself on the window and peered down into the swirling clouds below. The palace ship was in the center of the city, but gaps between the ships meant that the reality of their existence could still be seen. “That woman—” he began, but his sister held up her hand.

Eleanor pinned up the long curls of dark hair into a far more utilitarian bun than the court fashion she’d worn to the wedding. Then she darted to her desk and withdrew the dragonflies she had spent the last week working on. This had been done out of the sight of Madame Escrew, naturally. While the brothers watched, she carefully wound up the five gleaming machines with the two tiny keys in their abdomens before releasing them. With a flicker of bright green, they leaped into the air and began to circle the room in a cloud.

They darted about from ceiling to floor. They had only been airborne for mere moments when one quickly grabbed something hidden on top of the bookshelf. The brothers all winced as a high-pitched whine echoed through the library, about as enjoyable as fingernails scratched down a blackboard.

The little gleaming predator pulled loose a long whiplike creature not much longer than itself. As the brothers watched wide-eyed, the dragonfly ripped it apart with its gleaming articulated legs. Eleanor smiled, but she waited until her creations had circled the rest of the library.