Clockwork Twist : Dreamer (8 page)

The scent of burning wood was the first thing to reach Twist's awareness.  Then, a general aching sensation that covered his body completely.  Last, he heard yelling voices.  Twist struggled to open his eyes, to look around him, but all he saw was fire and darkness.  A cold, metallic hand grabbed his wrist and pulled sharply, dragging him to the side.  Twist tried to move with it, but his limbs weren't responding the way they should.  The darkness fell away into a bright, fire-lit glow as he found himself being pulled out from under of a broken piece of decking that was already half consumed by the fire.

Myra was pulling him out.  She saw his open eyes and reached down, hauling him to his feet with more strength than he knew she had.  She threw his arm over her shoulder and began to run, dragging him quickly away from the fire.  Twist stumbled as he tried to keep up and eventually fell into cold sand.  Myra dropped to her knees beside him and turned him over to look at his face.  Hers was awash with terror.

“Twist!” she screamed, holding his head in her hands. “Can you hear me?”  He tried to respond, but his voice simply wouldn't make a sound.  He thought at first that Myra's fear was making a mess of his thoughts, but then his Sight flashed with tiny fractures, dislodged cogs, and bent gears.  Myra's body had been damaged, so his Sight was showing him none of her emotions.

“Myra!” Jonas's voice called from afar.

“Over here!” she yelled back, waving an arm.  In a moment, Jonas ran to her side and looked down at Twist in fear.

“Holy hell!” he gasped, dropping to his knees beside him as well. “Twist, look at me,” he said, placing a hand on Twist's brow and peering into his eyes.

Twist's Sight washed over with cold, tight dread in the wake of a very anxious and thin version of the normal white fog.  More than anything else, it was the fear in Jonas's deep-purple eyes that truly scared Twist.

Jonas looked up to Myra. “He's hurt, but he'll be all right.  Stay with him.  Don't let him move too much.”

“Oh!” she gasped, looking for all the world as if she were about to break into tears, no matter if she was actually able to or not.

“Myra,” Jonas said sharply. “Twist will be fine, I promise, but he needs you right now.  You have to be strong for him.”  She seemed to swallow her nonexistent tears, and nodded to Jonas. “Stay here.  I have to find—“

An explosion burst into the sky, breathing a hot wind over them and scattering the sand.  Jonas cursed and then jumped to his feet, running towards the source of the explosion.  Twist tried to watch after him, but he couldn't get his head to rise very far off of the sand.  Myra tore a piece of singed white cloth off of her dress and leaned over him, wiping at his brow.  To Twist's horror, the cloth came away soaked with blood.  Somewhere in all of the chaos and abject terror, Twist's mind finally retreated, letting him drop back into silent darkness...

It felt like only a moment had passed before he opened his eyes again.  But as he gazed up at the clear black, starry sky, he gently began to realize that there had been a storm up there before.  He heard the soft crackle of fire and could feel its warmth from one side.  He tried to sit up and look around, but his neck, back, and shoulders screamed in pain at the slightest motion.  He hissed and let himself fall back into the cool sand.

“Twist!” Myra's voice said quickly from close by.  She appeared above him almost instantly, kneeling close beside him, and peering down at his face. “Jonas, he's awake!  How is he?” she asked as Jonas appeared at the edge of Twist's vision.

Once again, Jonas knelt down and looked into Twist's eyes. “I'm not a doctor, Myra,” he said to her gently. “But he looks a bit better.  How do you feel, Twist?”

Twist tried to speak, but his voice still wouldn't comply.  He clenched his jaw in frustration.  Jonas got to his feet and walked quickly away.  Myra didn't move from his side.  Now that Twist finally had a moment to look at her, he saw that her face was blackened on one side from soot, as was some of her hair.  Her dress had been reduced to scorched tatters that clung to her form modestly but not at all fashionably.

He moved his hand, reaching for her, until she took it in hers.  His Sight showed him that the gears in one of her wrists were badly tangled, some of the sensors against her inner crystal were out of place, and there were a handful of other damaged spots all over her body.  He squeezed her hand, wishing he had something to say to take away the concern on her face.

Jonas reappeared with a cup and reached down gently to lift Twist's head off the sand.  Twist's Sight washed over with the normal level of fog, which then receded away to the edge of his mind and soothed some of his confusion along the way.  Jonas helped him to drink a little bit of cool water from the cup.  Twist hadn't noticed that his throat was dry until the water washed down.  There was a nasty flavor on his tongue that seemed like ash.

“Better?” Jonas asked, still holding his arm under Twist's neck.

“Yes,” Twist managed to say, his voice rough but finally alive again. “What happened?”

“We were attacked,” Jonas said. “And don't ask by whom, because I don't know.  A storm appeared in front of us and then chased us down.  And it was
wrong
,” he said, frowning at the memory. “It wasn't a normal storm at all.  That thing was made by someone, and aimed at us.”

“Tasha?  Niko?” Twist asked, conserving his words.

“They made it,” Jonas said. “Niko is out looking for help with one of the crew.  Tasha is looking for more water.  But,” he said, looking around in the silent, star-filled night, “it looks like we're in a desert.  We're all right until the sun comes up.”

“The ship?” Twist asked.

“In pieces,” Jonas said with a sigh. “We managed to get some supplies and most of our luggage out before the rest of the coal blew, but there isn't much of the ship left.”

Twist closed his eyes.  He could understand everything Jonas said, but believing it—and figuring out what to do about it—was another matter altogether.  He felt like his mind was full of desert sand: sluggish, confused, and dull.  His body seemed to be all right as long as he kept still, but every motion hurt.

“How are you, Twist?” Jonas asked. “Are you dizzy?  Is your vision all right?”

“Everything hurts when I move,” Twist muttered. “I can see fine.  I'm not dizzy, but my head isn't right.”  Myra bit her metal lip anxiously.

“That's all reasonable,” Jonas said, nodding. “He'll be fine,” he said to her. “He's just banged up a bit right now.”

“And you?” Twist asked, looking up at Jonas.  There were black smudges on his fingers and at the side of his face, but he looked otherwise unaffected by the crash.

“I'm indestructible,” Jonas said with a forced smile. “I think I blacked out for moment, but I tied myself to the rigging before things got really bad.  Besides, the sky and I have an understanding.  It's solid ground that I don't trust.”  Twist smiled up at him lightly and caught a glimpse of relief blooming on Myra's face.

Jonas left to check on the other crewman.  Apparently, he'd been badly hurt in the crash and hadn't woken up at all yet.  Myra took Jonas's place instantly, never once letting go of Twist's hand.  She folded her legs and placed his head on her lap, looking down at him with a gentle smile.  Twist took her wounded wrist in his hands and looked at it as his Sight focused on the damage inside.  Two of her fingers wouldn't bend properly.

“Does it hurt?” he asked her softly.

“It's not bad,” she said, her tone tight. “You can fix it later.”

“Where are my tools?”

“You need to rest,” Myra said, tugging to free her wrist from his hands.  He tightened his grip and she stopped.

“My head is clear enough to fix you,” he said, looking up at her eyes. “I can at least repair your wrist without even having to sit up.  And I'd much rather do something useful than just lie here and ache.”

Myra looked down at him with mild frustration for a moment before she leaned away, reaching for something nearby.  She pulled Twist's bag closer and dug inside it.

“Is this it?” she asked, pulling out a small, leather-wrapped bundle.

“That's it,” he said. “I need the fine chisel.”  Myra untied the leather lace and unrolled the bundle, looking over the items tied inside it.

“This one?” she asked, holding up a tool.

“Perfect,” he said, taking it from her.

Myra let him take her wrist again in one hand, as he gently pried the outer layer of the copper casing open, on the underside of her slender wrist.  She watched with an odd fascination as he reached inside and nudged the clockwork pieces back into order.  She held still when he told her, and moved when he told her, never once saying anything back.  She jerked once or twice when something clicked into place, and he apologized each time.  In a few minutes he snapped the casing back in place and told her to try moving her wrist again.  She did, bending it easily now, along with all of her fingers.

“Thank you,” she said, smiling down to him. “That feels much better now.”

“I'm glad,” he said, smiling back.  Working on her clockwork had put more of his mind in order as well.

“I wish I could fix you that easily,” she said with a sigh, petting at his hair with her newly repaired hand.

Twist's eyes closed softly, savoring the pleasant feeling and using it to banish his nagging aches and pains. “You do more than you know.”

By the time the moon appeared off the horizon, Tasha, Niko, and the active crew member—a tall and wiry man with short, curly blond hair and a beard to match—had all returned to the small camp.  Tasha's elegant gown was tattered and scorched, and there was a dark bruise blooming over her jaw, but she looked otherwise all right.  A piece of stray cloth was wrapped tightly over Niko's left hand, and he looked darkened as if from a fire, but unharmed.  The wreckage still lay smoldering a hundred feet away, but Jonas kept the campfire burning in the darkness.  The injured crewman still hadn't woken.

“I think there's a town about two miles to the east,” Niko said as he and the others gathered near Twist and Myra. “It's not very big, but I can see their lights.  They might have a doctor, or some kind of transport.  I couldn't find any other signs of civilization except for a very long and very empty road running southwest and northeast.”

“There's no water anywhere near the surface,” Tasha reported. “There are hardly any plants as well.  If we're going to survive, we need help.”

“How's Ted?” the blond crewman asked softly as he looked down at his captain, who was still lying motionless in the sand.  Twist turned to glance at Ted, but his eyes caught on the moon.  The full disk stared back at him with a gentle white glow, but something about the image didn't look quite right.

“I can't tell how he is,” Jonas said. “But I got a flash of a vision earlier, of Ted walking in the sunlight.  I think he will be all right once we get him some help.”

The crewman gave a mournful sigh.

“Steve,” Tasha said to him gently, reaching out a hand to his shoulder. “You did the best you could.”  He shook his head.

Twist frowned, still staring as the moon seemed to grow larger while it hung still in the sky.  The desert below it wasn't as bright as it should have been under such an enormous full moon.  Twist blinked a few times and wondered if he really was all right.

“No,
he
did his best,” Steve was saying with a gesture to Jonas. “And you were hurt,” he said to Tasha, “but you still pulled me out of the wreckage before it blew.  I haven't done anything.”

“Now isn't the time for this,” Niko said.  Tasha shot him a warning look. “No, I mean it,” Niko continued. “If he wants to help, then he should quit complaining and help us get to that town before the sun comes up.  It might be winter, but this is still a desert.”

A wisp of cloud, blocking out the stars like a thin shadow on the sky, silently moved past, behind the clear, glowing face of the still-growing moon.

“Um...” Twist muttered.

“Niko's right,” Steve said. “I'm sorry.  Let's get going.  I'm not hurt as badly as the rest of you.  I'll help carry Ted.”

“Twist, can you walk?” Jonas asked, looking down to him.

“The moon is coming closer,” Twist said, bewildered by his own words.

“Oh no, he must be delirious,” Myra said, looking down at him mournfully.

“No, look!” Twist said, pointing as it became obvious that the moon was approaching silently over the sand, and not actually in the sky at all.

Everyone looked up and paused to stare at the now unnaturally large full moon.  Although the face of the moon was as bright as ever, there was a circular shadow gliding along in the center of the light that fell on the ground, just below the moon itself.

“That's not right at all,” Tasha said softly.

“Jonas, what's happening?” Myra asked quickly.

“That's the best design ever...” Jonas said slowly, as the dim white glow from the "moon" lit the wide grin on his face.

“Is the world coming to an end?” Niko asked, sounding more annoyed then frightened.

“It's an airship,” Jonas said, as if it were perfectly obvious. “The best-looking airship in the whole world,” he added warmly.

Once Jonas had said this, Twist's eyes were able to pick out the thin, dark ropes that hung from beneath the face of the moon, to an indistinct dark mass below that cast the shadow on the sand.  They all watched as the airship glided closer and then began to trace a slow orbit around them, now a mere twenty feet off the ground.  Jonas's face darkened as he stared into the shadows that hung below the false moon.  Twist felt a distinct tension in the buzz at his neck, and heard Jonas hiss a soft curse.

“What's wrong?” Tasha asked, stepping closer to Jonas. “I mean,” she amended quickly, “besides the strangeness, of course.”

As if in answer to her question, a blinding white beam of light splashed down over them from the dark mass under the moon.  Myra gave a startled cry, shielding her eyes as the light struck her, and then swept over each of them in turn.  An overly amplified voice bellowed down at them from the shadows.

“You are prisoners of war,” the voice said in a theatrically threatening tone, with a thick accent unlike any Twist had ever heard. “Surrender now or you will be fired upon.”  His heart beginning to pound, Twist tried to push himself up to sit on the sand.  Myra helped him when his sore limbs complained.  Every touch from her spilled concern and fear into his Sight and muddled his already confused thoughts.

“War?” Niko scoffed, frowning. “What war?”

“Cyphers?” Tasha whispered to Jonas, her voice so low that Twist barely heard her.

Not even flinching when the piercing light fell on him, Jonas continued to watch the shadowed mass.  He shook his head to Tasha's question, his expression clouding over with uncertainty.  In didn't take but a moment for Steve to throw his hands into the air.

“If the man in the moon wants me to surrender, then I surrender!” he yelled up at the false moon.

He turned to the others, urging them to show their submission as well.  Niko quietly rolled his sleeve down all the way, over the cage of wires and tubes on his left arm.  Tasha stayed beside Jonas, squinting into the shadows.  Twist glanced around quickly, and spied his walking stick lying in the sand just behind Myra, along with some of their luggage.  Seeming to follow his thoughts, Myra snatched up the cane and handed it to him, helping him to stand.  Twist leaned heavily on the cane, hoping that no one on the airship would guess at its true use.  The man in the moon seemed to accept their collective silence as surrender.

“Prepare to be taken aboard,” the amplified voice said as the moon came to a slow stop, hanging just above the sand.

The single beam of blinding light vanished just as quickly as it had appeared.  As Twist watched, smaller white points of light flicked on to vaguely illuminate the body of the airship that hung below the moon.  It was larger than Twist had guessed—with two decks and a generally circular design—and seemed to be made completely of a tightly woven, basket-like material of black fibers.

A platform opened out on each side, and two human figures stepped out, aiming thick-barreled, rifle-like weapons at the people on the sand.  Twist noticed the shadowed shapes of another three lean out over the top edge of the ship, with dark heads and shoulders to match.  The ship drifted closer, now hanging barely a foot over the uneven sand.  Another platform opened out to the front, leading onto a black and empty space on the lowest deck of the airship.

“Climb aboard, and no one will be harmed,” the voice said, now louder than ever.

“We have wounded!” Steve yelled back, gesturing to Ted who still lay motionless.

“Bring him.  If he's alive,” the voice said unkindly.  Niko spared a glance to Tasha.  She gave him a steady look and a subtle shrug.  Niko nodded ever so slightly and then moved to help Steve pick up Ted and carry him closer.

“What are those weapons?” Tasha whispered to Jonas.  Standing just beside them, Twist leaned closer to hear.

“Harpoon guns,” Jonas said very softly, sounding confused by the idea.

Tasha frowned. “Does any of this make any sense to you?”

Jonas shook his head. “But I don't doubt at all that they'll harpoon us if we try to resist.  Even with Niko's toys, I don't think we can fight right now without someone getting hurt.”

Steve and Niko stepped gingerly up onto the platform, carrying Ted aboard the airship.  Tasha followed after them.  Jonas turned back to Twist, his eyes a cautious, pale, gray-green.  He glanced at Myra, who stood just beside Twist, and then back at him.

“If they are Cyphers...” Jonas toned very softly.

Myra gasped, reaching out to cling to Twist's arm.  Twist winced against the fright that washed over his mind at her touch.  He nodded to Jonas, easily following his logic as well.  The last Cyphers to set eyes on Myra had stolen her instantly.  He steeled his will and pulled himself up straighter despite his aching limbs.  Jonas smiled slightly, possibly seeing Twist's resolve.  Tasha picked up some of their remaining luggage, and Jonas moved to help her.

“Don't fret, my dear,” Twist said softly to Myra as he bent to pick up his own bag and then moved to follow the others onto the moonship. “No one will take you from me.”

He felt her concern ease against his Sight, but her nervousness didn't entirely disappear as they both climbed aboard.  Just as Twist had guessed, the airship's body was indeed woven like a basket.  The bottom of the ship was ribbed with thin wood, and the ceiling was so low that Twist had to bend nearly in half to stand at all.  He and the others either knelt or sat down.  The circular walls were only broken by thin, slit-like openings that served as windows, but there were no lights inside their compartment.  Once everyone was aboard, the platform closed, sealing them in near-total darkness.

Niko snapped his fingers.  A tiny ball of soft white light flickered to life on his fingertips, like a candle flame.  He held the little ball on his empty palm where it continued to burn gently, giving off just enough light to let everyone see each other.  Twist felt the airship begin to rise slowly into the sky.  The ceiling dipped downward slightly in places as their captors moved on the deck above, and Twist heard soft conversations in a language he didn't know at all.  After a long pause, in which everyone in the dark hold of the ship simply stared upward and listened intently, Jonas gave a sigh and put his goggles on over his eyes, falling into a casual posture.

“Well,” he said casually. “This is different.”