A Dream of the Heaven

Chapter 16 (Part 1 of 2)

There's a fair bit of geography in this chapter.  If you're reading on the Wattpad website (ie. not on the app), right-click on the map on the right and click 'open in new tab' to see a full size version.  For reference, you can just see Monruath wedged between Emmares and Haruyen.  Thanks for reading! - JWPT

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Chapter 16

Isendrin

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Excited whispers ran between the lords gathered on the lawn of the Summer Palace.  Even Isendrin felt more than a little intrigued by what was to come.

“But this device, your Highness, is more advanced than any armament we hear of from the far continents,” said the engineer, a broad, red-faced man wearing thick leather gloves and a smith’s apron.  “There, such weapons can be operated by one man, but they are so huge as to be comparable with a ballista or a similar engine.  By contrast, this design can be carried and operated with the ease of a crossbow.  If you will draw closer, your Highness, I shall show you the mechanism.”

Prince Beresso glanced at his courtiers, a fascinating gleam in his eye, and led them forward to observe the object.  Isendrin stood at the front.  The weapon resembled a long wooden tube flared at one end with a lever at the other, presumably connecting to the strange, wiry apparatus mounted above.  The engineer balanced it on a tripod and instructed them in its use: here would go the lethal powder, even now being refined by Princeheight men, then here a match, which the lever would cause to descend upon the powder and ignite it, propelling the shot forward with terrible velocity.

“Now, my lords, I must ask you to stand away,” he said.  “The noise and flash will be quite spectacular.”

“You have tested this device previously, Master Lock?” said the Prince, raising an eyebrow.

“I have,” answered the engineer with a winning smile, “And though there have been one or two incidents, I am not dead yet, your Highness.”

That was satisfaction enough for the court.  The twenty men moved well away to one side and those clerks, servants and attendants walking around the edge of the lawn stopped to observe from an even safer distance.  They watched as the engineer leaned in close to his weapon, aiming it towards the thick wooden boards placed about thirty paces away.  There was a tiny spark of light as he lit the slow-burning cord.

“I have primed the weapon, my lords!” he shouted.  “I shall fire momentarily!”

Isendrin saw him don a great leather hood, grasp the front of the wooden tube with his left hand, and take the lever in his right.

A burst of white light, a great crack, a rush of air; a pillar of smoke enveloped the man.  Isendrin shielded his eyes just as the wooden boards reeled backward, but then the engineer was approaching and tearing off his blackened mask to the applause of the courtiers, as the smoke drifted up the bell tower into the grey skies.

“Thank you, my lords,” he said, bowing deeply.  “Shall we observe the impact?”

He led them over to the wooden boards as the courtiers gossiped amongst themselves.  Isendrin only caught a few words: ‘sovereigns’, ‘value’, ‘gold’.  After a brief search of the target, one of the lords spotted a hole punched clean through the shivered wood.  The exile reckoned it to be some distance away from where the weapon was aimed.

“Observe, your Highness,” said the engineer.  “No arrow could make such a mark.  Only the heaviest crossbows come close.”

“I congratulate you, Master Lock,” said Beresso.  “The design is clearly excellent, but I wonder about its readiness.  What make you of it, Lord Held?”