4
Whether by intention or miracle, Milo managed to reach the end of the corridor without a single trap being sprung.
It still hadn’t been easy.
Every step had left him more and more tense. He felt as though the Keep was toying with him. Fraying his nerves while waiting for the perfect time to spit darts from the dark.
Or drop a spinning saw down from the ceiling.
His mind conjured more and more exotic deaths as he went.
Not helped by the walls which carried carvings of golems clearly built for war. The depicted machines were humanoid. Some had weapons he understood. Giant swords. Axes. Spinning blades for hands.
Some looked to be shooting flame from their mouths.
Each golem was more terrifying than the one before.
It was as though the gallery was a display of a mad creator’s dedication to building machines whose sole purpose was to kill in the most gruesome way imaginable.
At the end of the corridor, a simple door waited.
A small crystal panel blinked. Ready to accept his hand.
With a nervous glance over his shoulder, he reached out and placed his palm on top of it. And heard the shudder of gears inside the walls as the door gently pulled itself open.
Dust floated down as it split apart to reveal a small room with a stone slab in the centre. The slab seemed to hover in the air, but was actually balancing on a small single leg through its middle.
A single shining mana light was positioned directly above the table, shooting a beam of bright light onto the polished gray stone surface.
A stone chair was positioned directly in front of the table.
With no choice but to keep going, Milo stepped into the room and tried not to scream as the doors closed again behind him.
It was then that he wondered if Ket would notice he hadn’t returned.
Would she rouse the mages to come search for him?
Would they care?
Swallowing hard, he looked around the room. There was nothing other than the table.
No sign of any way out.
Suddenly, the table shuddered and a hole in the centre opened with a heavy grinding of stone. The hole was about the width of his hand. And, rising from the depths, a shining yellow machine core gently lifted into view.
He could see the mana swirling within the crystal.
And, for a brief moment he had the feeling that the thing was a yellow eye. That it was staring at him.
Unblinking.
Then the core pulsed.
The pulse swept through the room like a sonic blast, forcing him to brace himself against the force.
Again, he felt like the core was studying him.
Then a metallic click from above made him look up to see a tray slowly descending. Suspended by wires, it slid down smoothly until it rested on the table in front of the chair.
On the tray was a long black wooden box, a small scroll, and some little jars made of dwarven glass.
Beside the jars were struts and sheets of dwarven bronze.
And, resting serenely in a small box lined with a thin metallic sheet, was a machine core.
A slim wafer of silicon with a sphere of quartz embedded in it.
The little sphere glowed softly.
Then the wall rasped and a panel slid aside to reveal a square of dwarven glass which was almost completely opaque.
He’d never seen anything like it.
And, as he watched, the glass lit up and five symbols glowed bright green.
The symbols stared back at him.
Then flickered and the last symbol changed.
A second later, they changed again.
And again.
He couldn’t read what they were. But the clocker in him knew exactly what he was seeing.
Some kind of clock.
And his gut told him it wasn’t counting up.
It was counting down.
The yellow machine core in the middle of the table let out a small sequence of beeps and burst of static. Like it was trying to tell him something.
Feeling panic beginning to gnaw at his heart, he shook his head. “I don’t know what you want!”
The same pattern of beeps and static repeated itself as the clock kept counting down.
“I’m sorry.” He leaned on the table, bringing his head close to the core. “Please! I don’t understand you!”
The yellow core let out a long beep which sounded sad.
But the clock kept counting down.
Nearly frantic, Milo swept his gaze around the room again, searching for a way out. The door through which he’d come was closed, and there was no panel for him to touch on this side.
If there was another way out, it was hidden perfectly within the lines of the cyclopean stones which formed the walls.
Looking up, he could see only the bright mana light.
And on the table, only the core.
And the tray.
“Is it that?” He reached down and picked up the scroll. Spreading it open, he felt his mouth drop.
He’d expected some kind of letter.
Instead it was a diagram.
A blueprint.
Like those he’d used in his old workshop to make clocks from Sunderland’s designs. But this… This was something else.
On a hunch, he snatched up the black box and flipped it open to reveal a collection of tools which were both strange and familiar. Screwdrivers, though the heads were a different shape.
Pliers, but more slender.
And some strange device which looked like one of the soldering irons he’d used. But finer. And there was nowhere he could heat it.
Glancing at the jars, he saw cogs and wheels. Screws. Everything he’d need.
The yellow core let out a series of beeps again. These sounded more cheerful.
He nodded. “I think I get it now.”
It was clear this was a test. Fail, and he had no doubt the room would kill him. The only problem was he had no idea how much time he had to build whatever the blueprint was for.
Sliding onto the chair, he took a deep breath and lay the blueprint down flat. Carefully, he started arranging the screws and gears. Sorting them by type.
Despite the fact there was little time, it wouldn’t do to be chaotic. He had to be ordered.
Structured.
One step at a time.
Otherwise he’d make mistakes. That was one lesson Sunderland had managed to instill in him, and he wouldn’t forget the old man’s dedication to a tidy workplace.
Once he was satisfied, he began by studying the blueprint one more time.
There was a detailed description on one side of the diagram, but it was in an ancient tongue he couldn’t read. He doubted anyone alive could read it.
But blueprints were something he felt comfortable with and he picked up a few of the struts which would form the main frame of what he was building.
It looked like other pieces would slot into the skeleton more easily.
He was sure he should start with the skeleton, then the internal machinery, and then finally the shell.
As he started, he was surprised to find the design was fairly easy to follow.
He’d expected it to be harder.
The spidery writing and strange dwarven runes had made the blueprint look complex. But if he ignored those and concentrated solely on the elements of construction, it wasn’t so bad.
As he kept working, he felt his mind relax and the front part of his brain which was full of worries, fears, and little intrusive thoughts, slowly sank away to leave only that part of his mind which focused itself onto the intricate assembly in front of him.
He told himself it wasn’t going to be harder than repairing a dwarven clock.
It wasn’t true, but it helped calm his mind.
His fingers moved deftly, used to handling gears even smaller than this.
The yellow core made a beep, and he looked up to see there were only four symbols.
He’d passed a milestone.
Gritting his teeth, he pushed the fear away again and kept working. Thumb pressing a cog down while his other hand screwed it in. Testing the wheel worked with a slow roll of his fingertip.
Moving onto the next.
Soon it was clear he’d made a leg. Or an arm?
A limb at any rate. A series of wires and taut springs formed its muscle.
With a glance at the blueprint, he would need five more.
Two looked more different. A little more complex.
Okay, there were four legs and two arms, he decided.
Was it a small golem?
He kept moving, feeling a little more excited despite the proverbial sword hanging over his neck.
Soon, he had legs. And the clock was down to three symbols.
The yellow core let out an encouraging series of beeps and a whir which sounded like a fluttering propeller.
Shaking his head, he started on what looked to be the heart of the golem. It was a complex system of wires linking to some small crystals and thin wafers of silicon. Two of the wafers had gems inserted into them. Machine Cores? They were very small.
He started arranging everything, then realized he wasn’t sure how to solder it together.
Picking up what he thought was the heating device, he stared at it.
It was a small wand with a tiny diamond at the tip. It felt more like a stylus than one of the thick irons he’d used before. But there was nowhere for him to heat it.
But there was a small switch at the top of the wand.
Hoping for the best, he flicked it and felt the wand hum in his hand. Blinking, he pressed the tip against the stone table and was shocked as the diamond made a buzzing sound as a beam of blue light burnt a neat hole in the granite.
He slowly drew a line in the stone.
As he did, the yellow core let out another long sad note.
“Oh!” Milo’s cheeks flushed bright red. Almost as hot as the iron in his hand. “I’m sorry. I was just… testing… It’s all new to me…”
The core beeped once.
It didn’t sound too irritated.
Using the beam, he started soldering wires. It was easier than a normal iron because he didn’t need to constantly stop to heat it. He wasn’t sure how long it would last, so kept switching it off and on, but he had a feeling it wouldn’t run out before the test was finished.
Soon he had a cluster of loose wires and crystals and silicon. But it wasn’t as messy as it seemed.
He started assembling it within the skeleton, noting the symbols on the screen above were now only two.
He guessed he didn’t have long.
Feeling the tension, he did his best to push it aside but it gnawed at him. Made his fingers tremble. He dropped a screw now and then. But he refused to let frustration take over.
That was the path to failure.
So, he picked up the screws and tried again.
The yellow core beeped.
He glanced up.
He was down to one symbol.
Wincing, he pushed the last leg into its socket and reached for the iron. Soldering the connections, he blew smoke out of his view and glanced at the blueprint.
So far, so good.
Now the shell.
He started screwing on the backplate. It was made of Dwarven Bronze with small glass circles embedded into it. Once it was on, he’d be able to see hints of the machinery within.
But, for now, he didn’t pause to admire what he was building.
There was no time.
Sweat trickled constantly down his face, flicking off his hair and onto the tray. His armpits felt itchy and hot.
The yellow core let out an encouraging beep.
“I know, I know,” he muttered, working another plate into place.
Struggling with the screws.
The yellow core started chirping faster.
He looked up. The numbers were counting down faster, too.
He could almost feel the whisper of death against the back of his neck and he wondered how it would happen.
He hoped a poison dart.
He’d heard they were quick.
The worst would be a saw. He could imagine a giant arm swinging down and sawing him in half. The thought made him shiver.
Pushing the last plate on, he fumbled with the screwdriver.
As the yellow core kept chirping. It sounded encouraging, but there was a note of desperation in it, too.
The plate snapped into place. He twirled the screwdriver.
The yellow core howled a few frantic beeps and a long burst of static.
As he snatched up the machine core from its flimsy foil bed and turned the golem over in his hand.
Found the slot.
The screen started to wail as its numbers started flashing red.
The yellow core let out a long screech.
He pushed the core into the slot. Felt it click.
The numbers froze on the wall. The light above turned bright red and started flashing like an alarm as the yellow core echoed the screen’s wail.
Milo looked up as the ceiling opened up.
And saw his death in the form of a heavy sawblade which revved with a steely scream.