I had a dream last night.
I don't remember much of it. One of those that you can see glimpses of when you wake, but never the full picture. Every so often, my mind calls back to a vague, haloed silhouette, and my lungs start to constrict as if I'm drowning. Perhaps my old illness…? It makes sense, I suppose, since I've been dwelling on the past so much – quite literally, I mean.
But there's still things to do, stars to catch, memories to examine and duties to tend to. I've set more traps in the last week than I ever have in my life, and it looks like my efforts have finally borne fruit. Six stars, two of which are next on the list; and since these were particularly feisty s'wits, I'm considering that an achievement.
It's strange. I want to see what happens next, and yet I'm terrified at the same time. The responsibilities that come with this knowledge, the burden of knowing itself; all these secrets feel as if they're weighing me down to the ground. Blessed Seht, guide me. I have so much more to learn.
Star Nineteen: (Armialin)
Inside the Mechanical Fundament, where broken factotums and useless scrap metal were left abandoned, Armialin guided Aem'uvus to a campsite that was half-decayed and out of sight, sequestered from the winding halls by hastily built dividers. It was odd to set such a precious secret down in the heart of such squalor, but none of the three could think of a place more hidden.
"Where are we? I can't—Is this where we'll help Father?" the child asked as Armialin settled him in the discarded campsite. Confused eyes looked out at the tent which drooped over splintered supports, and the pot filled with holes and an ill-fitting cover.
"It's someplace safe," he replied. "You'll be fine here until we solve whatever's happening in the city."
Aem'uvus' face darkened. "I don't want to stay here. I want to help Father! He needs me!"
"Your Grace, Armialin is right – it's important that you're kept safe from harm," offered Heem-Tei, wringing his hands together as if the words felt false on his tongue. "We will do all we can to help Sotha Sil, I promise you."
"Father needs me!"
A rumbling sounded around the Fundament when the child turned, his footsteps clanging while his hands tightened into fists. Armialin thought he saw him trembling, but what little light there was did not make it a simple matter to tell.
"It's not fair," the entire place shook and groaned, threatening to throw them from their feet. Fyr reached out to clutch a nearby strut and the adventurer crouched lower to the floor to avoid tumbling on to it. "Father has always looked after me. I don't want to abandon him. I can't. I won't. I won't stay down here; and you can't make me!"
Aem'uvus slammed his foot in the ground. It sent a shockwave through the floor, so strong that the nearby wandering factotums all came crashing down, their falls punctuated with hollow, ringing echoes that briefly deafened them before fading at length down the halls. Once the echoes had died, it left a loaded silence that hung in the air like tar. The child's shoulders heaved, and his breathing was heavy.
"If we're done with that," Fyr's voice broke the silence. He stepped forward, though Aem'uvus did not turn to meet him. "If what you told us is even remotely accurate, we have neither the time nor the resources to babysit you. Whether you consider it fair or not is irrelevant. Remain down here, or put yourself and the operation to help Sotha Sil at risk. Those are your options."
There was a pause. Electricity crackled through the air, and for a moment Armialin wondered whether the child would attack them. But then his hooded head raised ever-so-slightly, and his voice came out as little more than a whisper.
"Why would I believe you can save him without me?" he asked.
"For one, we aren't tantruming children," replied Fyr. "For two, we're more powerful and capable than your run-of-the-mill Apostles, and we're not blinded by doe-eyed reverence. If anyone can help your father, it's us."
Another pregnant silence fell upon them. It stretched on for a few moments before the child turned. His eyes were wide and earnest, full of something close to trust, but not quite.
"Do you really think you can help him?" The question was asked with a tremble, as if Aem'uvus was close to tears. The wizard did not unfold his arms and did not appear moved in the slightest, but when he spoke again he did so with less of an edge to his voice.
"We will do our utmost to return him to his senses," he said. The child cast his eyes down, his shoulders slumping, and with the smallest nod he conceded defeat. Trudging to one of the tattered seats, Aem'uvus set himself down and sunk his head into his hands, where he let out a deep sigh.
"I'll wait here," he promised. "But if anything happens—"
"You'll be the first to know," assured Armialin. "For now, just sit tight and watch after yourself. One of us will come and check up on you soon."
His response was a barely audible grunt, and the child remained quiet and slumped in his chair even as they departed his company. Heem-Tei made as though to protest leaving him without protection, but Divayth silenced him with a wave of his hand.
"If we're to keep Aem'uvus hidden and get on with this task, nothing can be amiss," he told him. "I suspect people would notice if you vanished from your rotations. Whether or not anyone would look for you is another matter, but I'm not willing to run the risk at such a critical juncture."
"Let's just hope Aem'uvus keeps to his word and stays put," said Armialin as they reached the door. He threw the lever standing beside it, listening as gears clicked and whirred and steam hissed to slide open before them.
"Don't be a fool, Armialin – of course he won't," the wizard replied. He stepped through the door and into the warm artificial light, looking ahead rather than at his companions, ignoring or entirely missing the adventurer's bewildered stare. "That's why we have to move quickly. When the boy reveals himself, I want us to be in the best position possible to uncover what's truly going on here."
Abandoning the Clockwork Son in the Mechanical Fundament?! What was Fyr thinking? I've always been told he was an iconoclast, but really, there must be limits. Aem'uvus was only a child! Urgh, my mother was right – I haven't even met him and I'm frustrated with the man.
Star Twenty: (Aem'uvus)
Comforting trills of machinery and Vennu's puttering echoed in the halls of the Fundament, but little could pierce the veil that Aem'uvus was shrouded in. He alternated from head-in-his-hands despair to abject boredom, and from then he would stand up and pace the floor, anxiously awaiting news from above. For all that time, his thoughts never strayed from his father.
It was not long before he dared to venture out of that decrepit campsite to spy on the factotums littered around the place. Their stiff movements reminded him of the Centralis, and so he convinced himself to advance further and further within, until he was so far inside that Divayth's warning was a dull roar in his ears. Behind crates and discarded slag heaps, Aem'uvus crept through the halls to peer upon Sotha Sil's machines at work, and felt a strange sense of loss at the sight of them. Each creak and clank reminded him of home. The smell of oil conjured memories of his father's embrace, how his robes and hair smelt of metal and machinery, while the constant drone spirited him back to the hum of memories that floated above him when he drifted to sleep, or the soothing tenor of Seht's voice as he read him another bedtime story after a persuasive argument. Every recollection spurred him on. It was not until he turned around that he realised he had not been paying attention to which paths he had taken, and he was uncertain of the route back to his camp. A sudden terror gripped his heart as he looked down on Vennu.
"Oh no," he whispered. "Fyr and Armialin are going to be so mad at me."
In a desperate attempt to recall the path, Aem'uvus retraced his steps, but soon he came to a nexus of halls that were at once alien and all too alike. Each one had the same differences, and he realised that any attempt to return would be a long, drawn-out affair that had very little likelihood of succeeding. His hands wrung together, the child worried at his bottom lip while looking down each one in turn, calculating the chances of a random correct guess – or a string of them, at that.
"I'm in so much trouble," he said to Vennu. "I don't remember—I don't remember—!"
"Did you hear that?"
The voice caught him by surprise. Aem'uvus' mouth clamped shut and he dove behind a crate, daring not even to peer out around the corners as strange footsteps reverberated from one of the halls. It sounded small, its tenor shrill and alien; and as the creature came closer he sensed an energy behind it that was both repulsive and familiar. Whatever lurked just beyond his sight, it was not meant for the Clockwork City – but he could have sworn he had felt it before.
"It's nothing, you fool!" came another voice, similar to a female's, but not quite. "If there's any mortals down here, the metal-god's machines would have taken care of them. And if not? They're weak. They'll die anyway."
The child's breath hitched as the creature came closer. He could see its shadow stretched on the wall across from him, and with horror he regarded thick horns that protruded from its forehead, long, flowing hair that obscured what small facial details he could parse. His arm wrapped around Vennu to still its puttering. Not even a muscle twitched as this daemon paused to scan its surroundings.
"Eh," it soon relented, "perhaps you're right. There's nothing here. A shame."
The shadow retreated, and the footsteps faded down the hall once more. Aem'uvus remained still for a long moment more, ensuring it had left, before he released his grip on his pet. Every limb quivered and threatened to give way as he leaned just far enough to see the halls ahead. Even when he saw the creature's absence for himself, he almost did not believe it.
"We have to figure out the way back," he whispered, his voice low and filled with trembles. "Vennu, do you remember?"
The child had not expected much when he asked, but it was as if his words had short-circuited his fabricant for a split second. Vennu became still, quiet – then, with a sudden burst of liveliness, it wound up and skittered towards one of the halls. Forgetting his terror in favour of his confusion, Aem'uvus rose to his feet and peered quizzically at the machine.
"I...never fitted you with a map tracking system," he pointed out, almost to himself. "I couldn't even make all of your legs the same size. How can you...?"
Of course, Vennu merely paused at the end of that hall, puttering quietly as it waited for him to follow. Tilting his head, the child's brow furrowed and he looked at his pet with a new, fresh curiosity.
Then he remembered the creatures that stalked the halls, and his wonderment was replaced quickly with caution. Aem'uvus crouched lower to the floor, as he had read in storybooks, and started after the fabricant.
"Come on," he murmured softly. Once more Vennu set off on a determined path, and despite his anxious gait and the glances he threw over his shoulder, Aem'uvus followed.
