Kamistones and Keeps
Content Warning (click to expand)
child abuse, parental neglect, violence
by Zachary Taylor Branch
“Faster, Vari, the foul creatures are near behind, we dare not let them catch us!”
Vari was following behind her mother at a fast trot, along the well-tended Greenstone Trail outside of the village of Mineral. This would have been a more believable childhood game of chase had her mother not been carrying several over-packed grips. But Vari was used to playing along with her mother’s odd fancies, and she did so now.
“What stalks us, Momma, and to where do we flee for aid and shelter?”
“Old threats, my dear, the angry beasts of ancient worlds, now passed by. They do not countenance our rebellion, our lack of faith, and would gladly take us back to captivity. We seek the safety of the magic mines, not far ahead, so to remain ever just out of reach.”
It was a cold, cloudless night, so the Trail was well-lit by the silver-blue light of Great Rings, high overhead and arching over the western and eastern horizons. An otherworldly light for another of her mother’s otherworldly tales, but the real-world cause of this frantic flight was about to intrude.
The Trail was bending to the left, under a narrow shelf of between the creek and the towering bluffs, atop which sat a stone house that looked vaguely like a castle. They were just minutes from the funicular that would take them up to safety, when an all-too familiar figure stepped out of the shadows, blocking the way.
“That will be quite enough of that, woman. You and Varina are coming back to town with me, the steam-carriage from the girl’s new school is due shortly.”
Vari’s mom snapped very much into the here and now. “She is not going to that school, Corll. It is a sweatshop that would crush her mind and spirit!”
“The sisters of the Industrial School will apply some much-needed discipline upon this willful girl, and she will need to learn the practical trades if she is to be suitable for matrimony. Now give me those bags, we’re…”
“Not going with you, Corll! Vari is but ten years old, time enough for her to practice her true gifts. She has a fine voice, a talent for drama, and for all your bluster, she has more heart and fortitude than you will ever…”
“Enough!” Corll lunged forward and grabbed the bags roughly. “I will take you back to town if I have to bind you both and drag you there myself.”
“Not from here you won’t.” It was Hendrin Clay, marching down the trail with his son Hance, a tall, thin boy about Vari’s age. “You are on my land now, Corll, so Miranda and Vari are under my protection. Off with you, before I call the Constable.”
Corll could count, but was also a man bound to have the last word. “This isn’t over, Clay. I have more friends than you know, and I will have my own in the end.”
• • •
Four years later, Vari was back on Greenstone Trail after a long summer visit with some maternal cousins in Nonesuch City. She didn’t care for them much, but her mother was disappeared for almost a year now, so she felt obliged to see them on occasion. And staying busy helped keep the sorrow of her mother’s absence at bay.
Vari and Hance, no longer children, were ambling along the familiar trail that led from town out to Lacus Anna. A flock of cloud-beast floated overhead. Small ones, they were barely fifty yards from snout to tail, sailing on the westerly winds. No doubt off to the fertile fields and rivers of Lappihanne.
Scattered along the sides of the Greenstone trail were new piles of stone, some just jumbles, others impossibly balanced stacks that appeared to defy gravia.
“I like the new kamistones, Aitch,” said Vari.
“My thanks, Vee, I never tire of stacking stone on stone, but these are just for practice. I saved a nice one for you.” Hance reached into his pocket and held his closed hand just in front of Vari. “Open your hand,” he said.
Vari held her hand under Hance’s, and he tipped his treasure into it. It was a flat greenish stone, mainly olive but with dots of light spring green, and it had a band of shiny verdigris shot through its middle.
Vari said, “Thank you, Aitch, it’s beautiful, like the scale of a petrified dragon.”
She held the little green stone tightly in one hand. With her other, she took Hance’s hand tentatively, and was very happy when he squeezed back firmly, as they started down the greenway again. She was quite fond of Hance, but still shy around him. He was very tall now, bespectacled, and smart as a whip. The Clay family had made good on its promise to protect Vari, and during their years together at the Myrrhian School for Arts and Sciences, Hance and Vari had become good friends. Vari at least hoped for more.
The trail ended at a clearing in the woods. At the edge of the field was a collection of hundreds of squarish stone blocks, anywhere from a foot to a yard across. Several non-gravia Automata were hovering about, big ones with grapplers or carrier tips, carefully moving blocks into and out of the field of stones. Most of the greenish stones were being placed atop a low circular wall almost as wide across as the clearing, or the squat stone tower at the center of the circular courtyard.
“Gods, Aitch, the new building stones are lovely, the veins of greenstone are even prettier all polished up, they look like jade,” said Vari. “You’re making a castle of green, like from stories of the Old World. But I see no gate, what wonders lie beyond your fabulous wall?”
“No gate, Vee, but I would be pleased to oblige your request,” said Hance. “Give us a big hug.”
Hance squatted down slightly so Vari could get her arms around his neck. He grabbed her tightly around the waist, pushed off from his squat, and they both leaped up into the air. Vari let out a shriek despite herself. She had seen people getting around with non-gravia vests her whole life, but she had never worn one herself.
Vari looked down over her shoulder and saw that they were slowly arcing over the low wall. It was almost completely covered with bluish petra-serpens, all 3-4 feet long, warming their bristly fur in the sun as they slowly digested their morning’s cud of greenstone gravel.
Hance and Vari came back down with unnatural slowness and landed in the circular courtyard around a squat greenstone tower, right next to a deep cylindrical pit.
“You have your own gravia well?” asked Vari, peering over the edge of the pit.
“Yes, just now completed,” said Hance, nudging Vari back from the edge gently. “The market rates for gravia-dijunctus are just too high, and for pan-etheric momenta as well. We can now keep all our Automata aloft and motive from our own mines and wells, for a minimum of gold. But you might find the new Keep more interesting.”
They began to walk over to the cylindrical tower of polished greenstone in the center of the courtyard. About 60 feet across and thirty feet high, it had one large arched doorway, currently with no door, that betrayed the thickness of the walls, almost three feet at ground level. As Hance and Vari started to enter the cool and still of the tower, they were interrupted by ugly voices from the stone yard.
“Where’s my girl, Clay? I brought the Constable myself this time, and a writ signed by the Viscount, all official and binding. You’re to hand her over to me immediately, or I’ll see your whole clan hauled before the Curia.”
“You cannot hide behind the law, Corll,” yelled Hendrin. “Vari is free to visit with us any time, and no bogus paper from that weak-minded dotard will sway me.”
“I’m afraid you can’t ignore Corll this time,” came another voice, Constable Rondae, new in the job but already a friend of the Clays. “His writ is countersigned by the Magistrate, and it says he can take custody of his minor daughter at the time of his choosing. My apologies, Hendrin, but Corll is within his rights. Tell Hance to bring the girl out here, right away.”
Hance glanced down at Vari, who looked stricken, her eyes already red and tears streaming down her face. He whispered something to Vari, hugged her tight and took a decidedly unenthusiastic jump. Vari clung tightly to Hance, and the two were soon standing on the outer edge of the castle wall.
“Good to see that at least one of you Clays has some respect for the law,” said Corll. “Now come on down here, boy, and bring the girl with you.”
At the sight of her father, Vari’s expression changed from bereft to furious. “Why the sudden interest, old man? Why ruin the only thing that brings me joy?”
“Because you’ve bled now, girl, and I won’t have some Clay bastard squealing around under my roof,” yelled Corll. “You’ll keep away from that boy, and stay at home where I can keep an eye on you. Now come on down, we’re leaving this Gods Forsaken place.”
“You are not going to be able to do this much longer!” yelled Vari, her temper rising. “I know the law too, I will soon be able to get a Writ of Divorcement. I shall see Hance as I wish, and we will be the Lord and Lady of this castle, and you will be nothing and have nothing, except for all the misery you deserve!”
Constable Rondae was also wearing a non-gravia vest, and after an elegant leap he was standing next to Vari. She whispered something to Rondae, and a crooked smile broke across his face. “I shall be ready,” he said, as the three leaped down to the stone yard together. Hance started yelling as soon as they landed, just feet away from Corll. “You are a sick old bastard for what you have done to Vari, and I will see that you never hurt her again!”
“What are you going to do, boy, poke me to death with those bony elbows? This is no longer any concern of yours,” said Corll with deceptive calm, as he grabbed Vari’s arm and tried to walk her over to his old steam wagon. She pulled herself loose and sat down with her back against a stack of greenstone.
“I am not moving from this spot, old man. Approach me, and I will tell the Constable and the Clays what you have done to me, or tried to do, you weak, limp old…”
Vari knew her father’s temper well. He lunged for her, struck her across the cheek and threw her over his shoulder. He made only a few steps toward his old wagon before Rondae brought his club down on the exposed side of Corll’s neck. Vari fell to the ground and her father crumpled in an awkward heap next to her.
“That’s it for you, Corll,” said Rondae, as reached for his slap straps. “I know just the place for men who take a fist to young women, it will be my great pleasure to dump you there myself.”
Rondae winked at Hance and Vari as he dragged Corll to an open spot in the stone yard, but Vari’s father was as slippery as she was. Still bound, he wriggled out of Rondae’s grip and started yelling back at Hendrin.
“You have built a house of cards, Clay! My friends and I will ruin your whole family, tear down all these unnatural monstrosities! And then I’ll take Vari back and you won’t be able…”
This went on for quite a while and Rondae looked sorely tempted to resort to his club again, but the Municipal Flyer finally showed up, and a new audience from the Constabulary got to enjoy Corll’s ongoing rant. Vari and Hance continued to cling together as Master Clay outlined their strategy for Corll’s pending trial. This was a day his family had been anticipating for years.
Vari proved to be an exceptional witness before the Curia, and Corll was convicted of Manifest Cruelty and sentenced to the reconstruction works at the Old Capital. During the proceedings, it was Constable Rondae who first referred to Vari as a Hero of the Piedmont.
Vari and the Clays redoubled their efforts to find Miranda after Corll was safely confined, but to no avail, there was no sign of her anywhere in New Elisia. Minerva Clay, Hance’s mother, had her own ideas. Like Miranda, she reveled in the strange interstitial space between reality and fiction. And she knew how to cheer Vari up.
Minerva and Vari were currently in the shadow of one of the newest local edifices, the Lacus Anna Aqueduct. They were attired in New World armor and accompanied by a nimbus of Camera Obscura Sprites hovering just above eye level. Constable Rondae, another local devotee of costume drama, as witnessed by his impeccable Legionnaire’s regalia, was holding two beautifully tacked stallions. They also appeared anxious for the action to begin.
“Constable, you have outdone yourself again, I wager the Grand Sultan of Malia would covet such outstanding mounts,” said Minerva, glancing at her handheld display of the Automata’s imaging. “No dialogue in this scene, my dears, we will be capturing the fraught pursuit of Vari’s character Annanika, a royal scion who has taken the place of my squire and stolen the secret plans.”
“The quest object,” said Rondae with a sly smile.
“Yes, my dear Constable, the quest object, a cherished dramatical trope. Vari, you will be afoot with a lead of ten minutes. Follow along the path of the aqueduct, the right-of-way is not too rough and the aqueduct makes for stunning background visuals. The Automata will track you, and we will catch up about the time you reach the Crossroads water tower.”
“Where you will kill me or take my into custody?” asked Vari, grinning back at the equally bemused Sheriff Rondae.
“Yes, we will memorialize it both ways, our book is very much a work in progress, my darlings,” said Minerva. “But for this take, try for more resolution than fear, we might want to save your character for later heroic deeds. Now off with you, daylight will soon be waning!”
And Vari dashed off, her beautifully fitted armor clinking just slightly, and three Automata floating just ahead and behind, recording the visuals for another of Minerva’s perpetually in-progress cinematics.
The turf around the aqueduct was only ankle high, so Vari was making good time, dodging in and out of the curved shadows of aqueduct arches, which peaked out a full hundred feet overhead. The Great Rings were just becoming visible overhead, the sunlight still too bright to see them in their silvery glory. Vari was working up a sweat and thought of dodging into the shade of the dogwood grove to her right, for dramatic purposes of course, when she heard a commotion up ahead.
Suspecting that Minerva had thrown in a surprise plot element, Vari backed up to one of the cool stone pylons and went very quiet. Not too far ahead someone was moving about, and working heavy equipment. Staying very much in character, Vari peeked around the corner of the aqueduct pylon and leapt back into the clear.
“Stand away from that gravia well, you scoundrel! This is the domain of the Tribune of Louisa, of the Malian Hegemony! Annanika of the Tribune’s Legion stands against you!”
A tall figure looked up from a drill of sorts which appeared to be digging into the outer perimeter of the well. The figure was like nothing Vari had seen before, not a man in armor, but a man made all of metal. It had an unnaturally narrow waist able to bend in all directions as it continued its digging. Where it’s face, or faceplate, should have been was just a blank expanse of metal. And it paid no attention to Vari at all.
A flock of cloud-beast, visibly fattened on the fish and fowl of the Great Bay, was floating back to the Piedmont on a northeast wind, harbinger of a coming storm. Their manta-shaped shadows passed slowly over the clearing, and again the metal man took no notice. Feeling a bit bored with the way this scene was progressing, even the Automata seemed to be circling a bit lazily, Vari drew her neo-arbalest from its holster and fired two theatrical squibs at the stranger.
Minerva’s practical effects people would have been impressed, a shower of sparks and flames erupted at the feet of the stranger. The Automata darted about seeking the best angle as Vari fired again, this time striking the metal man’s chest plate. But as the smoke was clearing, the unperturbed intruder lazily raised a metallic arm and let loose a small projectile that hit Vari’s breastplate with enough force to knock her back onto the turf grass.
Vari did not like getting knocked down, even if it was elaborate stage play. She pushed herself up and trotted off into the dogwood grove, the metal man again back at his task. Vari pulled a small remotus from her thigh pack and took control of one of the Automata. She flew it up and almost out of sight, and then brought it screaming back down directly into the intruder’s head, such as it was. The impact knocked the metal man over, and while Vari’s view was obscured by the low trees, she was pretty sure it was preparing a counter-attack. But as she got ready to run deeper into the grove, she saw that the metallic figure was targeting someone else.
Constable Rondae was riding into the gravia well glade and got hit full on by a projectile much larger than the one that hit Vari. Rondae was knocked out of his saddle and landed face-up on the turf grass, where his loyal mount began nickering over him. Vari was pretty sure this wasn’t a cinematic anymore, but regardless, a friend was in trouble, so she crept slowly back into the glade. And saw that the horse’s fine saddle holster still held a heavy arquebus.
The metallic creature was distracted by something its device had extracted from the well. A petra-serpens, wriggling madly and emitting a piercing shriek, unlike anything Vari had ever seen or heard from the usually languid creatures. She bolted back into the glade, grabbed Rondae’s quite-functional antique weapon and kneeled over the prone Constable. She fired the first barrel, which sent the stone serpent into a writhing terror that even the stranger could not overcome. The petra-serpens hit the ground and rapidly squirmed back toward the gravia well as Vari fired the second barrel, producing some noticeable damage to the intruder’s chest plate. It paused for a moment and turned its faceless head toward Vari. Its lack of expression was more than a bit disconcerting, and as Vari prepared for another attack, jets of flame erupted from a pack on its back. Vari was just working out that the intruder had no pan-etheric powers as it disappeared into the beclouded sky.
Rondae was just beginning to stir when another rider entered the glade. “Magnificent! A glorious improvisation! Whom did you engage as the mysterious stranger, Master Rondae? Master Rondae? Are you quite alright, Constable?”
Rondae rolled his eyes, such that only Vari could see, and projected his voice in a loud and matter-of-fact fashion, despite several broken ribs.
“A foolish endeavor, Mrs. Clay, my compatriot is clearly an idiot, but I don’t think Vari or I are permanently damaged. I hope, at the least, that the cameras were rolling.”
“Indeed, Constable, the most amazing imagery I have ever captured! The entire second act will have to be re-written to take advantage of the mysterious interloper and the drama at the gravia-well! Your mother will be so proud, Vari.”
“She knows what we’re doing? You’re in touch with her?” asked a suddenly perplexed Vari.
“After a fashion, my dear. She is worlds away and just next door, we both find solace in never settling too firmly in just one reality. But for now, I am more concerned about the condition of our intrepid Constable.”
Rondae superbly played off the near-fiasco as an improvised scene gone wrong, but as they all finally trotted into the Mineral town square, he dismounted with a wince and whispered to Vari.
“Profound thanks, milady. I know not what that thing was, nor the meaning of Minerva’s riddles, but I will know all. And upon our next drama, it is my turn to rescue you.”
Huge logs were ablaze in the main fireplace of the Great Keep, finished at last after years of construction. It was late afternoon, so the Keep was growing dark, but for the light from the fire and a handful of Lux Sprites loitering near the arched ceiling of the great hall. Hance and Vari and Master Clay were standing near the fire, enjoying the warmth as it held off the early Fall chill, and anxious for some long-anticipated news.
Hance and his father were in their best formal surcoats, and both also had large Sprites floating over their shoulders. Hance’s was particularly elaborate, with extra claws and projections that looked vaguely like weapons; he’d been tinkering with Hal again.
Vari, on the other hand, was dressed like royalty. She was wearing a green and gold kilt and cloak, and the breastplate and gauntlets and close-cut hair of a warrior queen. It was more costume than evening attire, she was to be the young Queen of Piedmont in the evening’s drama. Greenstone Castle was enormously popular as a venue for dramatics, and the entrepreneurial Miner’s Guild, under Minerva Clay’s leadership, was only too glad to encourage the trade.
“They are arrived,” said Master Clay, as the huge oak door of the Keep cracked open, and four people walked in from the evening chill.
Leading the party was Captain Dauphin Chance of the New Elisian Militia, followed by his cousins Coriolanus and Rosalind Dowsing, and an over-taxed Porter trying to carry their luggage. Master Clay looked in puzzlement through the open door at a huffing, ill-kept steam wagon, then walked over to the young officer and shook hands.
“Welcome to Greenstone Castle, Captain Chance,” said Master Clay. “And it’s always a pleasure to see the Dowsings. We are most pleased to have you taking charge of our stoneworm menagerie, Coriolanus, your mastery of the coupled matter creatures is renowned.”
Master Dowsing just grunted and slowly stroked the blue-furred petra-serpens, at least five foot in length and purring like a large asthmatic cat, draped over his shoulders. He wasn’t being rude, he just hardly ever spoke. To humans, at least. That was his daughter Rosalind’s job.
“Our thanks, Master Clay,” said Rosalind, leaning down a bit to shake hands, a forced habit of being nearly seven foot tall. “Father and I are most anxious to get started, and there is much we need to show Dau while we have him here with us. And we hope to make the drama tonight, your leading lady looks like she just walked out of a tale of the Old World.”
Vari blushed a bit and looked down. She and Rosalind were a study in contrasts. While Vari still weighed about 50 kilos soaking wet, Rosalind (who went by Lindi) was at least a head taller than most of the men in the room. She had her father’s size and her mother’s looks. Think Botticelli’s Venus with broad shoulders and a flannel shirt.
Uncharacteristically, the Porter interrupted the conversation. “Pardon, Your Grace, where do you want me to set down these bags? Your guests must be smuggling coupled matter ingots.”
Master Clay looked crossly at the Porter. “Just leave them here, Porter, the Dowsings will be staying over at our house, we can take bags there after the drama. Where is the regular man today? Dmitri usually makes the run up to Mineral by zephyr-carriage; I do not believe I have seen you before.”
The Porter looked puzzled and fatigued, which was strange, because almost all Porters were notorious hustlers, working multiple jobs and earning favors amongst the fleets of non-gravia carriages and galleons and entire villages which transited over New Elisia.
“Can’t say, Your Worship, just got a message this morning to report to Mineral, they didn’t say where the regular guy was,” said the Porter, gladly putting the bags down, but in no apparent hurry to get back to his regular duties.
Master Clay was clearly annoyed by the odd behavior, but didn’t want to be rude to his guests. “Well then, let us get about the tasks at hand, I know the Captain has not an abundance of time.”
“Yes sir, I would be most pleased to see your ultra-thermic stone ovens, momenta mines and gravia wells,” said Chance. “The House of Peers is quite interested in your unique building methods here in Mineral. You have achieved an exceptional degree of independence, using local materials for construction and local plants for control of the Elements of Power. Other worlds have not gained our mastery of gravia, lumina, thermics and momenta, or any form of pan-etheric power. We must prepare for…”
“The Unknown?” offered Master Clay.
“The Inevitable,” replied Dau. “There have been more incursions on local gravia wells, and we have come to find that the barrier between realities is… thin, here in the environs of Mineral. This may relate to your mother’s disappearance, Vari, I hope we can talk more at a suitable time.”
“Indeed, at your discretion, Captain, Vari,” said Master Clay. “Then let me suggest that I join Master Dowsing on a tour of the perimeter diggings. Lindi has seen the pan-etheric works many times, so perhaps she would prefer to accompany Hance and Vari to their New Keep over by the lake?”
“As long as we start with the Mineral Grotto,” said Lindi. “It was still a stone-making dungeon on our last visit, I hear tell that it is now something quite remarkable.”
Hance and Vari were beaming, the Mineral Grotto was one of their proudest creations. The Porter had been listening to all with keen interest until Master Clay finally slipped him a few Peerage chits and said, “On your way now, my good man, and my regards to Dmitri. Let the rest of us make our way down to the Grotto.”
The party walked over to the central oculus, Vari and Chance in a tight huddle, speaking softly. Master Clay and Coriolanus started to walk down the spiral stairs around its outer edge. Lindi, Hance, Vari and Captain Chance, on the other hand, jumped.
Lindi, Hance and the Captain were wearing non-gravia vests, and Vari had one built into her armor. The four slowly fell through the central well until they touched down lightly on the stone floor at bottom, a few minutes ahead of the gentlemen, and they walked out into the Grotto.
A polished greenstone floor stretched out to the walls, which were anything but polished. The dim light from a dozen Lux Sprites loitering about the ceiling showed hundreds of mineral outcroppings of every possible color and shape. Lindi wandered over to the nearest wall and was lightly touching bright blue and silver outcrops.
“Welcome to Mineral Grotto,” said Hance. “It would take a fortnight to fully describe all the ores and gems we have found here, but most of the blue is copper ore, and the silver is galena, a lead sulfide. And this, my favorite, is bornite.”
Lindi was lightly tracing a rough stone that was changing color as she shifted her gaze. It had speckles of turquoise and bright purple, even a little red and yellow.
“In all my years of digging, I’ve never seen anything like it,” said Lindi. “It looks like a peacock feather.”
“Quite right,” said Master Clay, who had just made his way into the main chamber with Coriolanus and Captain Chance. “Bornite is also known as peacock ore, a more fitting sobriquet.”
The group walked across the polished greenstone floor to a cluster of darkened tunnels, from a few inches to yards across, at the far side of the chamber. The huge ovens which used pan-etheric heat to turn the mountains of greenstone spoil into building stones were long gone, retired to the deeper excavations as the Miner’s Guild continued to explore the bands of precious metal ores and coupled matter that surrounded the village of Mineral.
Coriolanus began making some strangely loud clicking sounds, and the petra-serpens draped over his shoulder stopped purring and began to work its way into one of the smaller tunnels. Within seconds, about a dozen more stoneworms emerged from the previously quiet tunnels, their circular mouths lined with spiral white teeth that were slowly crunching on greenstone spoil. They began to circle about Coriolanus and were soon following behind him in an odd undulating motion as their bristly fur got traction on the stone floor. The rest of party looked on in silence as the idiosyncratic procession disappeared down one of the larger tunnels.
“He is a bit a Piped Piper,” said Lindi. “Our partnership with the stone beasties has been most profitable, they can channel thermics and momenta even more efficiently than our mining Automata. The gentlemen might want to follow after him before he gets too far ahead, he could be exploring about the works and tunnels for days.”
Master Clay and Captain Chance set off at a trot, calling after Coriolanus, to the amusement of Lindi and Hance and Vari who rarely saw these gentlemen in anything other than complete control and composure.
“Well, it appears that I will have to wait for more of the Captain’s latest insights,” said Vari. “Shall we make our way to the New Keep?”
Hance and Lindi nodded enthusiastically, and the three entered a tunnel that was as nondescript as the Grotto was grand. The polished walls of grayish stone were mainly of the local schist, and the tunnel was dimly lit by tiny Lux Sprites that loitered at the peak of the tunnel, each about as bright as a large candle. The horizontal tunnel curved gently to the left and came abruptly to end, with a wide vertical shaft overhead.
No stairs, no railings, just a smooth cylindrical tunnel with a dim light at its upper end. Hance and Vari pushed up and the two started to slowly rise through the shaft, Lindi not far behind. They found the occasional handhold in the stone that allowed them to keep pushing upward at a comfortable speed. In less than a minute, they rose through the floor into a large chamber, in which only Vari looked at home.
The room they entered was like the Great Keep, writ small. A domed roof of polished stone was only about 12 feet overhead, giving the room a much more intimate feel than the main hall. There were no windows or doors to the outside, but a small reform gas fire danced in the fireplace over a bed of crushed greenstone, and several Lux Sprites floated around under the domed ceiling, given the room a warm, yellowish glow.
After a few moments of discussion on plans to furnish the New Keep, the three kicked off again and rose up through the circular oculus at the peak of the ceiling. They passed through the next room without stopping, though Lindi could tell this was to be a functional floor with kitchen, utilities, and water closet. Moving up through another oculus, they entered an unfinished upper room, but Hance still blushed immediately.
“Well, to save Hance the distress of describing our soon-to-be boudoir, let us head up to the ramparts, Hal,” said Vari.
“As you command, Vari,” came the tinny voice of the drone, and a circular door at the peak of the bedroom ceiling opened upward and out. Once more, the three kicked off, up to the roof.
It was a cool evening, lit silver-blue by the Great Rings overhead, their seven distinct bands stretching from horizon to horizon and brightest at the zenith. The innermost Proximate Ring was trailing a cascade of shooting stars, a nightly pyrotechnic show to put the best Solstice fireworks to shame. Hance, Vari, and Lindi were leaning on the outer rampart taking in the view overhead, when a loud nasal voice shattered the pastoral quiet.
“There they are, Mister Corll, just like I said they’d be. Your daughter Varina, the Clay boy, and that big redheaded amazon. I’ll take my money now.” It was the sketchy Porter, and he was standing at the foot of the keep with Vari’s father and another man, both carrying bludgeons. They were standing quite still, and Corll was being uncharacteristically quiet.
Vari spoke first. “Even Pa wouldn’t try to storm a keep with just…”
The answer to Vari’s puzzlement landed on the rampart just a few feet from Lindi in a wreath of flames. It was Vari’s mysterious metal man, looking quite recovered from her gunfire attack some years past. Lindi recognized the threat in an instant and hit the metallic intruder in a fine open field tackle, sending then both tumbling over the low wall of the rampart. Lindi got the metal man in a decidedly unaffectionate bear hug as they tumbled to the ground, and the two suddenly leaped skyward in a vertiginous ascent, and were soon out of sight.
“Hance, call the Constable and try to catch up with Lindi, that thing is not pan-etheric but it is armed and capable of killing,” said Vari. “I will stay here and get the Old Man talking, find out what he and his odd little gang are up to.”
Hance looked at Vari through narrowed eyes. “Please tell me that you are not planning something unusually foolhardy and fraught.”
“No more foolhardy and fraught than usual, Hance, but to ease your mind, leave Hal here. He has minded me before. Now be off with you, Lindi needs our help.”
Hal floated over and took station over Vari’s shoulder while Hance adjusted his momenta and gravitics, and leaped into the night, in the general direction of Lindi and the metallic stranger.
“What are you doing here, Old Man?” yelled Vari from the edge of the rampart. “Do you imagine that you can haul me back to your wreck of a house? I do not drag so easily anymore, and I know how to stop you cold before you try…”
“I am well beyond the ways of the flesh now, Varina. I have seen the light, learned the true evil of all these godless machines and edifices you and the Clays have built. My friends and I will tear down these abominations, these floating familiars and uncanny demonic powers, before they…”
“Over my dead body,” said Hendrin Clay, walking into the circle of light about the base of the Keep. He was alone, Lieutenant Chance and Coriolanus Dowsing were nowhere to be seen. And he was holding a small arbalest, but not quite at the ready.
“Only too happy to oblige,” said Corll, taking a wide swing with his bludgeon and smacking the pistol from Clay’s hand. The return swing cracked the Elder Clay in the left temple. He fell to the turf grass in a position that would have been very uncomfortable had he been conscious.
Corll’s goon looked up at Vari with a dark-toothed smile, and began to walk over to Clay, raising his own wooden club. The ploy worked. Vari leapt from the rampart and landed right on top her father’s flunky at full weight, enough of an impact to send him sprawling.
“Enoch, stop messing around, and help me bind the girl,” yelled Corll.
Enoch got back on his feet and lunged forward, but before he could get back into the circle of light, there was the sound of a quiet “thwip” from the direction of Hance’s Sprite Hal, now at the base of the New Keep. Enoch collapsed in a heap, a small, feathered dart lodged in his neck.
“Damn the Clays, and their godless gadgets,” muttered Corll, and with surprising speed and loft, he jumped forward, and smashed the Hal the Sprite out the air with a wide swing of his bludgeon. The little brass disk fell to the ground, its spotlight still on, but angled upward like a poorly planned distress signal.
The Porter had been frozen in shock, but before the Sprite hit the ground, he was beating feet into the darkened woods. Vari was crouched down by Clay, checking his pulse and breath, and pressing a small handkerchief against his head wound, which slightly slowed the bleeding. The arbalest she was looking for had been knocked clean out of sight.
“What have these people ever done to harm you, to justify this, you crazy old bastard!” yelled Vari over her shoulder.
“They took you from me, turned you into some sort of heathen freak, neither true woman or true man,” said Corll, walking slowly towards her. “They’re building a whole godless world of demonic machines with no wire or weight. Their foul devices will shatter the walls that protect this world from the realms of demons, even now foul fictions intrude on this one true reality. I will stop them.”
“How, you pitiful excuse for a man?”
“By keeping you from leading them,” said Corll, and he came around with his bludgeon again. As a man practiced in causing pain, Corll landed a blow less savage than the one that felled Master Clay, but more than enough to knock out a young woman, armored only up to her neck.
For Vari, coming back to consciousness always felt like being deep underwater, and being grabbed by the arm and dragged rapidly up to the surface. She kept her eyes closed, being well practiced in feigning unconsciousness after a beating. Corll was carrying her, and from the sound of his footsteps, Vari thought they were probably on the greenway back to Mineral. Made sense, he was taking the quickest path back to his old steam-wagon, likely parked somewhere along the main road, and he would never take a non-gravia carriage or galleon. Good, thought Vari, staying grounded was going to slow things down, give her time to make a break.
She didn’t have to wait long. Corll was carrying her like a load of firewood, and Vari’s arms were hanging back, over her head, her hands right at the edge of the greenway trail… Where they brushed against a stack of kamistones. Vari grabbed at a top stone with her right hand, and almost got it. Corll noticed the motion, and yelled, “What are you trying to do?”
“This,” came a quiet voice behind them. It was Miranda, who smashed a quite large kamistone into the bridge of Corll’s nose as he turned.
Corll screamed in pain and surprise, dropped Vari, and fell to his knees on the trail, both hands clasping his broken nose. Vari and Miranda stood over him, and without a word Miranda smashed the stone against the side of her Corll’s head and laid him out.
The bright Ring-light was beginning to fail, as broken clouds skittered across the sky, but Vari could see that she was covered in blood, as was her mother. They clung together regardless.
“You came back, Momma.”
“I was always here, Vari, after my own fashion.”
They continued to whisper together through tears and sobs, until they saw something odd coming up the trail. It was a small brass disk, emitting a weak light, and half-rolling, half-crawling up the trail, with its manipulator claws pulling it along.
“Hal, is that you?” asked Vari.
“Indeed, milady,” came the somewhat garbled voice of the damaged Sprite. “I was just able to keep up with you, though in a somewhat undignified manner. I have sent our location to the Constable, and the Flying Squad is on its way, they were assisting the medics back at the New Keep.”
“Is Master Clay alive, and Hance and Lindi?” asked Vari, suddenly feeling very tired and weak.
“No wounds that can’t be healed, they are all on their way to the Piedmont College Sanitas. And it is a pleasure to at last meet you, Lady Miranda,” said Hal.
Vari smiled and smoothed her bloody kilt, just as her knees buckled. Miranda helped her to sit down on the greenway trail with as much dignity as possible and stood with hands on her shoulders. They were facing back toward Greenstone Castle, with eagle eyes on Corll, still alive but going nowhere fast. Hal rolled up to her left, and Vari now had the bloody greenstone clasped tight in her right hand.
This was how Constable Rondae found her, seated on a throne of turf grass, with the Broken Familiar and Bloody Stone. He whispered to Miranda briefly, and then knelt down in front of Vari.
“I don’t think this counts as an heroic rescue on my part, milady.”
“We will have more opportunities, my dear Constable. Our adversaries are far from done with us.”
Rondae kissed her hand. “I see now why they fear you, milady, victory could yet be ours.”
It was a scene soon to be well-known across the Piedmont, and was promptly incorporated into Minerva Clay’s greatest epic yet, as the facts and fables of New Elisia continued to weave together.
About the author and the piece (click to expand)
Zachary Taylor Branch sent this story 24 places before sending it to us, and, being one of those hard-to-define pieces, it wasn’t a good fit for any of them. We’re here for that sort of story. He is a semi-retired scientist enjoying the good life with his wife Nancy in Lorena, TX. His short stories “The Nerine Seven,” “The Gateway,” “Little House on the Ecliptic,” “Mrs. Brown’s Day,” “Fermi’s Cat,” “Our Gus” and “Kids and Robots and Geezers” are all in press, details at www.zacharytaylorbranch.com. His grown kids David and Elise are too far away, pursuing careers in art therapy and medicine.
©2026 by Mark Brickhouse. All rights reserved. May not be used for A.I. training.