Chapter 3

Uberwald, a place where the production of pitchforks, torches and wooden stakes are a lucrative cottage industry. Garlic farming and silver trinkets are a staple income too.

Every hill, crag, mountain, mound, tor and scar had a crumbling castle and a battalion of hunch backed, lisping manservants. Misty, rain swept, treacherous moors were home to picturesque stone villages, where the locals will feed, water and send you on your way, but have an aversion to moonlit strolls.

This was the home of werewolves, who single-pawed kept the flea and worm treatment industry in business, mad professors, vampires, and a horde of other dark inhabitants.

In the bowels of one such castle, crowned by a perenial storm cloud, a young man worked feverishly. The candle lit tables were strewn with schematics and blueprints and heaps of cogs, hoses, pipes, wires and tools littered the floor. Several Igors in thick leather aprons scurried around a huge smelter stirring,and pouring and prodding, whilst others hammered, cut and filed sections of iron into elaborate shapes.

'Igor!' he shouted.

He was answered by a chorus of 'Yeth, mathter?'

'No... you! The Igor with the calipers! No, the other one! By the gods!... You...er, man! You there trying to not look as though you are not cooking your dinner in my furnace... Yes, you. Fetch me the reciprocating lubricant pump. Yes, that one!'

A sheepish looking (or as sheepish looking as he could with a face like a surgeon's test piece) Igor lurched over to his master and handed him a small round pump.

'That fool Simnel didn't realise the potential, no, but I Edwin Von Orabet, saw it! That simpering fool and his flat cap! "I'm reet clever wit' t'steam!". Bah! I'll show him the true power of his creation!'

Thunder shook the castle, as it considered polite in Uberwald, as Edwin fixed the last piece of the mechnical puzzle into place.

'Edwin, dear.' The woman's voice behind him made him jump. 'Time for din-dins!'

'Aw mother! I've told you to knock! I could be doing... anything in here!'

'I'm sorry sweety, but your father needs his Igors back... You know how he gets when the cess pit needs emptied'. Clara Von Orabet said, her face careworn. A number of Igors seemed to vanish.

'Yes mother!' Edwin sighed, removing the thick goggles that were perched in his curly shock of ginger hair.

'And tidy this place up... I mean look at the cobwebs!'

One of the Igors coughed into his hand, which currently had two thumbs.

'You like them, mithtreth? Took me all week!'

'No! And tell the other chaps the door oil is for the doors, not their knees!'

'Yeth, mithtreth.' The Igor muttered sullenly. He hobbled off to get the feather duster, muttering to himself.

'Come on dear, the food's getting cold. It's your favourite... Dibbler's sausage inna bun with those little skinny chip things you like!. Though gods know how you eat this modern food. I swear one killed an Igor last week, and that takes a lot!' With that she swept out of the room, with Edwin in tow.

It was true that it takes a lot to kill an Igor, but this Igor in particular had eaten a Dibbler's sausage inna bun for a bet. And lost.

Later that night Edwin crept silently back down to the workshop, and after ensuring he was alone, walked over to an ornate bookcase filled with the latest editions of various mechanical digests and pulled the edition marked "Secret rooms, and how to make them". The bookcase slid quietly to one side and a stange blueish white light filled the room.

Neatly contained by clasps attached to the wall, were rows of glass tubes and each of these contained a flickering spark.

'Couldn't be done, they said. Impossible, they said! Insane even by Uberwald standards they said! Pah!' He grabbed one of the tubes and closed the door. 'The lightning was never the source of life, but mearly the conduit for the Spark of Life!' He began to cackle, stepping over to the shrouded workbench. 'I have harnessed the Spark...me, Edwin Von...'

'Mathter... Your medication.' A quiet voice said next to his ear. He jumped as the Igor butler appeared by his side.

'Argh! Don't you people ever lurch cumbersomly?'

'Not when we're not supposed to... mathter. Ethpecially, in the wee hours, thir!'

Edwin absent mindedly slipped the tube into a slot in the shroud.

'Very well, Igor...' He sighed. The Igor produed a gilt silver tray from behind his back, on it stood a glass of water and a tablet. He swallowed the pill with a draught of water.

'I think I'll retire now, Igor. Please ensure this room is locked.' He said, feeling drained by the medication.

'Of courthe mathter. Good night, mathter.'

'Good night Igor' At which point he wandered dreamily into the thick oak door with a thud, and collapsed.

The Igor sighed and threw Edwin over his shoulder.

'Bloody kidth!' he muttered, closing and locking the door.