Chapter 21: Restoration and Preparation

Climbing up the staircase that led to the deck for the first time in what must have been at least eight hours, Andrew squinted at the bright sunlight, raising a hand to shield his eyes. His face was absolutely covered in gunpowder, save for the two circles of area upon his face that had been spared by his glasses. Then again, he could not have expected anything else of these nonstop projects, really.

It had only been a week, perhaps, since he and Benjamin had returned from their venture out into the tunnels of the Ancient Ruins, but within that short span of time, Andrew had engineered more explosive devices, more smoke bombs and detonating devices than he had cumulatively in his entire life. He had sparsely eaten to devote even more time to this project, and it showed.

His face looked sunken, his hair unruly, his clothing slightly looser than usual, and he suddenly understood mad scientists much more than he had ever wanted to.

"You showed your face!"

The time that Andrew had spent in solitude had only worsened his reaction, his jumpy nature, and he could have sworn that he had leaped at least three feet in the air, fighting the urge to absolutely pummel the spiky-haired witchdoctor.

"Zachary, what the hell?"

Of course, Zachary himself paid his words no attention, as per usual, and busied himself with pulling rather obnoxiously at the musketeer's hair.

"You look like you haven't slept in days."

"I haven't."

"That's not a good thing!" Zachary retorted, staring incredulously at his lifelong friend – he knew that Andrew had a tendency to become quickly absorbed in his own work easily, but people had limits. Then again, he supposed that this project was urgent – if they were to find the swashbuckler's body and recover her, if they were to find Sydney herself, they would need to act quickly, before their presence on the island could possibly be discovered.

If Andrew's information was correct (which it almost certainly was,) then they were outnumbered – they had a hundred men, while the blockade of Armada clockworks stretched on for two hundred soldiers at the very least. They would need every available weapon that they could engineer – for otherwise, this situation would spell out their deaths, just like it had for Samantha and Jewel.

Speaking of which –

"Were you able to find out anything? You know, from the – "

"The corpse?" Andrew flinched, grimacing a little at even the sound of the word and the connotation that it held, while Zachary, on the other hand, did not seem to be bothered by it. "I was, actually – lots of things! It wasn't anything unexpected, though, you and Ben seemed to be pretty dead on."

"Dead on? About what?"

"You got the kneeling part right – there was stress on the tendons behind her kneecaps, and judging by where most of the decay was concentrated and where certain areas were exposed and compressed, she could have only fallen into that sort of position from an initial kneel."

"You can tell all of that?"

Andrew was astonished, to say the very least – he knew that Zachary was somewhat skilled when it came to knowledge and the diagnosis of various conditions and illnesses, as a major component of hoodoo was to drain your opponent's energy through temporary versions of these conditions, but he had no idea that he could simply see all of this from a half-decayed body.

"Oh, and there's something else – "

"Yeah?"

"But I think I'd better show you."

Instantly, the musketeer's stomach flipped, and he paled – if it had anything to do with getting up close and personal with Samantha Hawkins' corpse, even as amazing of a living person she had once been, he wanted none of it.

"Um…no thanks, I'd rather not."

"No, that wasn't a suggestion actually," Zachary said, almost smirking at him in that lazy, infuriating manner that held hints of triumph here and there, "it's pretty important. I didn't tell you earlier because everyone was panicking about the Fife, and then you went below decks and I didn't see you until now."

It was a fair point made, and Andrew couldn't bring himself to argue.

If it benefited their effort…

However, Zachary had not even given him the time to express his reluctant approval before he grabbed him by the wrist, dragging him down to the rather large cabin that he had been given – of course, it was to allow for room for both Zachary himself and for the corpse that had been keeping him company for the last week.

They arrived at the door, and Andrew internally steeled himself – the decay, the stench of rotting flesh surely could not have gotten any better.

Seeing this, the golden-eyed witchdoctor sighed in irritation.

"Will you calm down? It's not as bad as you think."

Again, he had not even waited a single second for Andrew to acknowledge, pushing open the door to his cabin and shoving him inside. And, much to his own surprise, the musketeer found that it was not, as Zachary had said, nearly as bad as he had imagined.

The long table holding Samantha's corpse was barely more than five inches in front of him, and Zachary was careful in sliding past him, and then around the table so that he was standing by where her head was positioned. Although she was obviously motionless, Andrew could not see any visible signs of decay, which did shock him – in fact, her corpse almost looked to be in better condition than when they had found her.

"She looks good, doesn't she?"

"Well, I…I guess so. I expected her to be in worse condition, to be honest."

He waited for a snarky reply, but much to his surprise, he never received one.

"How did you…um…preserve her…?" The question was awkwardly worded, but he could not think of any other way to say it – Samantha's corpse was obviously not soaked in chemicals, nor did the room smell of embalming fluid, but there was no visible deterioration.

"I used my magic – cleaned her up a bit." Zachary absentmindedly brushed some of her long, black hair back on the table from where a lock of it hung off the edge, "Although I don't really know how or why it worked."

"Your…magic? You mean hoodoo?"

As far as he knew, witchdoctors were not trained in this sort of thing – but then again, he really had no experience with Vadima's instruction, and was even less familiar with what went on in her master classes. At least when it came to the fundamental lessons, he had gotten some idea of the content learned via word of mouth, and playing the role of undertaker was definitely not included.

"Nope, I mean the weird green magic – the other kind," He quickly corrected himself upon realizing the confusing nature of his statement, "The one that heals wounds and stuff."

Andrew nodded in acknowledgement, now having understood slightly more – he had known about Zachary's odd ability to heal injuries to himself and to others in a manner that was extremely different than those taught in the privateer classes, although neither of them had been able to identify a cause or source of any kind. However, that still did not explain how he had been able to use it on a corpse.

Cautiously making his way around the table, Andrew looked over the body, reluctant to actually touch it out of his sensitivity to these matters. Yet, he could not find any traces of decay, not even when (much to his initial fear) Zachary had lifted up her eyelids, exposing her bright blue eyes – which were miraculously intact. It seemed awfully out of place, especially since eyeballs had a large fluid makeup and were often one of the first parts of a corpse to deteriorate.

As of now, Samantha had been dead for several weeks, perhaps a couple of months, even – there was no way of telling, not from this body – and yet, she was in flawless condition. Rather than appearing as an eerie decoration at the staircase leading to Underhill's fortress, she looked to be simply asleep, undisturbed, untouched – save for the considerably sized bald area on her head, the dark, irregular scar outlining where the charge had been fired into her head.

There was no other explanation – Zachary had managed to restore a corpse, to reverse the decay that had undoubtedly been there when her body had first been found. He did not need to touch her shoulder to find that the muscles would be back in place and firm, just as they had been while she was alive, and anywhere else that the tissues had began to rot away was now made whole once again.

"She looks as if she's sleeping – not dead…"

It was impossible to stop the single note of sadness from worming its way into his voice, but it was not his fault entirely – her death, the person behind it, its circumstances and means were undeniably tragic, and Andrew could practically hear his and Zachary's hearts sinking.

"You're just going to keep her here?

"I'm waiting on orders for what do to with her," Zachary said, now scooting his way back to the front of the room, "But until then, she's staying with me."

Andrew raised an eyebrow – he could not even think of sleeping in the same room with a corpse, even one that looked so lifelike – that might have even made it worse.

"Oh, come on – it's not that bad. You said it yourself, she doesn't even look like she's dead!"

That's even worse, Andrew internally replied, shivering.

"Doesn't this exhaust you? I know how using too much energy can affect – "

"It's fine, mostly," Zachary replied, shrugging his inquiry off, "She doesn't require a lot of maintenance now that the decay's gone – the first time was the hardest. Now I just have to make minor reconstructions once a day. I hardly even get dizzy."

The entire time, the witchdoctor had managed to maintain a calm, even tone, without the slightest hint of panic or of fear – something which Andrew could not quite comprehend, and something that he respected Zachary immensely for. This separation of one's emotions from such scientific work that could potentially become gruesome was a skill that was required of doctors and surgeons – it was mentally demanding and rarely found.

"You planning to do this to Jewel, too?" Andrew attempted to change the subject, trying to steer his mind away from this lifelike corpse before him.

"To the other one? Probably. Once we find her body, that is."

Presumably, Jewel's corpse and her murderer were located somewhere behind the massive blockade – which was the entire reason why Andrew, as well as the other ninety-seven guild members that were on board these ships had been slaving away for the past week.

"Well…are you ready for it? I mean, I've heard that she was literally torn apart – chances are that she won't be as…convenient, if you plan to restore her."

Again, Zachary shrugged – this obviously had no impact on him.

"Yeah, I already knew that – I overheard everything that Hunter Chamberlain told Madame Vadima, remember? I was the one who told you, I'm pretty sure."

Inwardly, Andrew groaned – once again, he had chased the witchdoctor in an intellectual circle in his attempt to think ahead of him, and just like all of the other times, it was a complete and total failure. However, his words had sparked another train of thought –

"Hunter and Vadima – you think they survived?"

The last time they had seen the island, Armada clockworks had been pouring through the streets, massacring those who fought back left and right, almost every building in sight having been set ablaze, including the small, cramped house that they had stayed in together for years.

All that they had been able to hear as they sailed away towards Port Regal had been the screams of the dying, the air filled with heavy blankets of smoke and the horrible smell of burning flesh, doubtlessly from the residents that had been trapped within their own flaming homes.

"I don't know."

No, it's not likely.

Of course, Zachary would never allow himself to openly admit to any pessimism about anything, such was his way – even if it meant that the was denying the obvious.

And Brandon?

Most likely dead as well.

Andrew had answered his own grim question before he had even allowed himself a chance to ask it aloud, saving Zachary from further disheartenment.

There was a knock on the door, and Andrew jumped, staggering forwards and nearly falling on top of the corpse, much to his absolute horror. Quickly collecting himself, he turned around and opened the door, one of the younger guild members standing behind it. He looked to be about twenty-three at most, and although he was tall, he was also thin, his red hair pulled back in a ponytail away from his face. Like Andrew's own, his hands were stained with a combination of gunpowder and oil.

"Mr. Sharp, Mr. Zest – " He acknowledged them both, nodding once in each of their directions, "I was sent down to retrieve you, Benjamin's called a meeting."

Most likely another progress check, Andrew thought, and he made for the door -

"I'll be there, I just need to grab the designs that he hasn't seen yet - "

"Oh, there's no need for that."

Andrew stopped in his tracks, confusion evident on his face.

"It's below decks – but the rest of them are coming too, from the other four ships. Instructions are to leave everything behind, otherwise there's no way in hell that we'll all fit. He trusts that you'll complete your own designs adequately from here on out."

Although the young man's words seemed to be of a slightly imposing nature, his tone was not – and therefore it was most likely unintentional, resulting from the general cloud of stress that had settled over everyone lately.

And understandably so.

Much to their relief, even though the man had shot a few curious glances at the corpse over Andrew's shoulder, he had not questioned them. Without further delay, both of them had followed him out, through the impossibly narrow hallways, and into the cannon hold – the ceiling of which was low, but it was likely the only space that could possibly fit one hundred men – and women.

As Andrew and Zachary crouched on the floor, Benjamin standing directly before them, they had a clear view of the numerous guild members that were filing in. Of course, they had known that there would be a total of one hundred people embarking on this mission, but the numbers had not quite resonated with them as much as the sight of all one hundred gathered in a single location, both men and women, humans and dogs alike.

It was only now that they noticed how this was a much larger number than there had been when Andrew had first found the underground meeting chamber in the Isle of Fetch. Then again, there was a large possibility that it was not the entirety of the guild that he had been speaking to. Given the surveillance that the Armada held over the Isle, the larger a gathering was, the more dangerous it was, and there was also the matter of those who were possibly on the Isle of Dogs instead, or even on the mainland.

Marleybone did have quite a large number of female engineers – it made perfect sense.

As the last few three or four guild members came down below decks, every last one of them clustering around Benjamin, the floorboards barely visible amongst the numerous bodies, the attention within the hold now turned to the guild leader as they awaited their instructions.

"I trust that you have made considerate progress."

Silent nods could be seen throughout the crowd – much like Andrew, many of their faces were absolutely covered in the grime that was a combination of sweat, gunpowder, and oil, other chemicals likely among them as well. There was no doubt that every last one of them had been working tirelessly, and there was no need for them to have brought their weapons in order to prove this.

"According to the numbers reported to me by the other Captains, we now possess approximately six hundred explosive devices, only one hundred and fifty of which have lethal power – I will now remind you that our mission is to bypass the clockwork soldiers, not to destroy them."

There was a resounding yes sir from his forces – which Benjamin himself had no doubt expected. As the leader of this faction, he was certain that there was not a single individual who did not see the true prowess and genius behind the technology and design of the clockwork soldiers. There was still much to be learned from them – and even though they would be prepared to destroy these soldiers in battle if necessary, the careless destruction of such valuable information was unnecessary.

"We will begin our attack two days from now, at midnight – "Benjamin continued, speaking clearly and concisely, as he seemed born to do, "four people from each ship are to stay behind. The rest will assemble on the docks. You are to arm yourselves adequately beforehand and await further instruction."

Bending down, Benjamin retrieved a large roll of parchment, now handing it to Andrew. The musketeer, getting the message, took it, holding it up as Benjamin rolled it open to reveal a large, hand-drawn yet impossibly detailed map of the plundered tunnels.

"We are to enter through here, from the jungle," he began, "and if the clockwork soldiers have not moved, we will be able to continue without stop until we reach this corner, around which there will be a blockade of three hundred awaiting us."

A week ago, when Benjamin had first called a meeting in order to report his findings to his guild, they had feared that number – but now, there was not a trace of fear, nor terror or even nervous apprehension, to be found on the faces of any of those within the hold.

"We will engage them in combat," Benjamin paused, now looking over the eyes of his comrades. "But remember – as much as we may hate them – "

The tension was palpable then.

"We are not to destroy them – we will retrieve the body of Jewel Zabra and return here."

Even with his face partially hidden behind the massive map, Andrew could feel the anger radiating out of nearly every single individual – but not towards their commander, no, towards the puppet soldiers who had driven them into hiding, who had plagued and starved their nation with war. However, they trusted their leader more so than their own instincts, their own minds – and they would follow his orders without deviation, without flaw.

"Remember who they guard."

Sydney Underhill, once the heiress of the most powerful family of the Isle of Fetch – the same island that many of them were from, the same island that Benjamin was from. Andrew had nearly forgotten - his cousin had been so successful in separating his emotions from his duties – that he had grown up alongside Underhill herself. Even now, he could not keep the pain entirely out of his voice, the shock and disbelief that he had not quite gotten over.

"Her soldiers are an extension…an extension of her reactions – tread carefully. She may have gone mad, but she…she is still…human."

At least she once was before, Benjamin remembered.

I hope you enjoyed, and do be sure to leave a review!

- Severina