Through a crack in the workshop window, I watch the pallid moon sail across the sky into the arms of dawn, as sleep plays hide and seek with my brain.
Just accept it's a no-shuteye night, I tell meself.
I try not to, but I can't help thinking of Pa. Is he gettin' any rest? Is he preparing to listen in on today's combat transmission on that static-filled old clunker of a radio at home? Or join the crowds following the morning matches in the square? The people of Fumedge are excited about the Trials.
Walking through the wakin-up streets of Lighthaven, I am immersed in a world unlike anything I've ever known. The city breathes with the rhythmic pulsation of steam-powered machinery, each building a symphony of gears and pistons. The cobblestones beneath my feet seem to dance to the beat of technological progress.
Steam carriages whiz by, their brass exteriors polished to a dazzling shine. I've never seen anythin so pretty in me hometown.
The streets are alive with a cacophony of sounds—the chugging of engines, the clinking of metal, and the occasional release of steam, like a dragon from them kid stoires exhaling its breath. The air is tinged with the scent of oil and metal, a heady concoction that invigorates my senses.
Every building stands tall and proud, adorned with ornate clockwork designs. Enormous clock towers rise above, their timekeeping mechanisms visible to all, ticking away the minutes and marking the passage of time. Tis nothing like Fumedge at all..
Market stalls line the streets, showcasing a mesmerizing array of clockwork gadgets, mechanical wonders, and brass trinkets. Inventors and artisans, already up, proudly display their creations, their eyes shining with passion and pride.
As I wander deeper into the heart of Lighthaven, movin towards the Workshop, I catch glimpses of airships soaring above, their sails billowing with steam. High above the streets, a network of brass pipes and cables crisscrosses the sky, connecting buildings like veins of a grand mechanical organism.
The people of Lighthaven bustle about, each one an individual cog in the city's grand machinery. They wear goggles and gears as fashion statements, a testament to their steampunk spirit. It's a place where creativity knows no bounds, and imagination takes flight on wings of clockwork.
I can't help but feel a surge of excitement and belonging as I walk these streets. Here, in Lighthaven, I am not the outcast for challenging traditions—I am a fellow innovator, a dreamer of limitless possibilities.
The workshop is blissfully empty. There is magic in the eerie quiet, and the sound of stillness casts a spell upon me soul. Light of the gas lamp turns the shadowy shapes on my workbench into a manageable ordinariness of tools.
I pop on me working goggles and grab a welding machine. The disruptor spark gun lies on my palm, a magnificent blend of oak wood, steel and brass. I tighten its chrome and aluminum chassis, and check up on the flexible conduit, pipe and pressure gauge.
All is in order. Dem Exoboots are polished and primed fer the run.
The competition might be beyond my abilities. Lighthaven inventors had access to more powerful tech, gold and materials than I did.
The Puncher, the notorious Red Cap drug dealer and Menagerie owner, is three times my size and now calls himself the Demolisher.
The Bomb Queen, who could make me explode in twenty different ways. I took a peek at her workspace the other day and she kept a lot of bombs there.
There isn't anyone like me either. I am the only one with sparks. If I play my cards right... Everything should be over by the end of next week.
When I remove my goggles, sunlight streams golden through the window in a well-mannered announcement of the daybreak.
I yawn and focus on the mechanical ventilator next. The quarter finals are about to begin, and I need a distraction. Am awful pleased with a breathing' machine that I've started building — when done, it will supply pressurized air into Pa's lungs.
Now, where did I leave that damn screwdriver?
"Searching for this?"
I yelp and rub my eyes. Has that brass horsehead just spoken?
A salt-and-pepper, very human-looking beard peeks from behind the equine automaton. A dark-haired, elderly, sallow man sits on the edge of one of the black chairs.
Cavalier.
The occupant of the black workstation is a lanky fellow, his pale face riddled with dem burn scars. He plucks a tool from his table and hands it to me.
"Thank ye kindly," I say, and I mean it.
Cavalier isn't very talkative. Could be he's one of dem leave-me-alone-and-I'll-leave-you-alone types.
It could also be the fact that his lower jaw is made of brass.
"Yer family?" I motion at the photo he keeps on his desk: a freckled girl with pigtails occupies the center of the frame.
He heaves a sigh, then nods with a sad smile.
The girl's bright smile reflects the innocence of youth. Curiosity gets the better of me, and I can't help but ask.
"Ye haven't seen her in a long time?"
Cavalier nods, a touch of melancholy in his voice. "Yes, that's my family. My little daughter, Amelia. We were always thick as thieves."
"She looks delightful. What happened to her?"
Cavalier sighs, his eyes tinged with sorrow* "Life took us on different paths after her mom passed away. We got separated and... I've been searching for her ever since. I know she was adopted to a rich home in Lighthaven."
"I'm sorry to hear that. It must be hard to be apart."
I imagine me adoptive Ma dying and getting separated from me Pa. It would be horribly hard.
Cavalier nods, his gaze fixed on the photograph* "It is. But the trials in Lighthaven offer a glimmer of hope. If I become a champion, I might gain enough recognition and resources to find her again. I want nothing more than to reunite with Amelia and bring our family back together. If she... if she does not want to live with me, I would understand but, I hope to be able to visit from time to time if I ... If I take permanent residence here."
"You'll find her, Cavalier. I believe in you." I hard-pat him on the back.
I'm always a iuge believer that when ye have a goal, there ain't no use of moping and crying about. Ye go and get that goal. And ye never, ever give up if it's a goal that is super important to ye.
The man with the brass jaw flashes a grateful smile. "Thank you, Yellow Champion. Your support means a lot."
"Ye can call me Veda, too. We're not just champions here; we're creators and innovators. Maybe there's some steampunk invention we can craft together to aid your search for Amelia."
Cavalier's face brightens with hope. "You're right. In this world of gears and steam, anything is possible. I'll keep pushing forward, and with your help, maybe I'll get a step closer to finding my little girl."
"Together, we'll make it happen. We'll challenge fate itself."
"Thank you... Veda. Your belief in me gives me strength."
"You're welcome. Let's face these trials with all our might, and may they lead you to Amelia. And bash that sorry Demolisher's arse."
He extends his hand."Deal. Together, we'll triumph."
I grasp his palm firmly. "Together."
Aye, tis true that Cavalier and his metallo horse face the Demolisher today inna pit number two. Wouldn't wanna be in his skin, but I'll root for him. He is someone's Pa too. If he wins, will he see his daughter again, here in the promised city of Lighthaven? I mean what I said. I wanna help him make it happen.
Cavalier tips the hat in farewell, and points at his hand chronometer.
It is time, the gesture says.
The man pats his double barrel brass pistols in handgun holsters. Then he leaves me be, and heads outside, metallo horse automaton walking in his footsteps.
I step into the Exoboots, and go after 'em half-conscious, like a sleepwalker. Nerves, or the lack of breakfast and rest flare up my stomach. The ache invades me so fast I double over, leaning on a doorway of the closest lavatory.
I plop inside, wincing, experiencing the pain so intense I am unable to walk.
Shite. Shite. Shite. Relax, Veda.
Turning on the tap, I fill a basin and splash my cheeks with water. Then I slap meself fer good measure, and brush out my hair, braiding it down my back.
When I lift my gaze, Langdon Septimus' worried chestnut eyes stare at me from the mirror.
I swivel around with a hiss.
"Good morning, Milady Igglesden. Just wanted to wish you good luck in the upcoming combat. I have not seen much of you for the past seven days. I trust the accommodations are to your liking?"
"I trust ye have elsewhere to be, Milord." I snarl.
"People tend to fear things which they do not understand. It is a truth I have always known. They fear all who look different, think differently and act differently. They are ostracized, ridiculed ... or outright annihilated."
"Is that a threat?" I raise my voice and take a step forth to show him I sure as hell ain't scared.
"No, I... I assure you that I was not attempting to threaten you, Milady. By no means. I was rather addressing your mistrust."
"Ye speak of mistrust? In what mad world would I trust someone like you?"
"Someone like me?"
"Told ye before, lad. A Lighthavener. An asshole criminal in daddy's fancy uniform." Something between a sigh and a huff of exasperation leaves my mouth.
"Since the day we met at the junkyard of the suburb of Fumedge, I have been more than aware you have your reservations about me. I am merely asking you to open your mind. And it can only work if we trust each other."
"Bollocks. That's just rubbish and ye know it. It doesn't work. It never has. You Lighthaveners always find a way to screw us from Fumedge over. You look down on us, as if we were your servants."
"I suppose, according to you, Lighthaven is to blame for all of your misfortunes." His cheeks are flushed red. "We are not monsters, you know. We are people. Just like you."
"Well that remains to be seen, doesn't it?" I pout and cross me arms.
"Indeed. I must change into my battle armor." He bows his head and marches out of the lavatory.
A metal flask now lies on the nearby shelf, which was vacant mere seconds ago. Langdon Septimus must have forgotten to take it with' 'im.
I unscrew the cap and spill some of its contents in the sink with caution. My jaw drops when I recognise the bright red color, and a distinct peppermint scent. No way. An alchemy healing potion? I had seen it only once before. Just a droplet of this potent liquid equals what I earn scavenging in a month.
Has the Duke's son left this brew for me on purpose?
I dismiss the thought.
Must've been an accident. Why would he do it? He doesn't even know me.
Because he is a good person, a voice whispers.
I'm not used to such enormous kindness from a mere stranger. And I don't like it. When people play it rough with me, 'tis easy. I play rough right back.
But if they are being nice... I'm at odds what to do.
Whatever thin connection he thinks he is forming with me must be severed. In Gaslight Trials, sympathy and trust are weaknesses.
I still pocket the flask and shrug. Meh. It could come in handy.
The gong sounds out in a clamor, and the clanging that reverberates through the workshop is chaotic, rather than melodic.
It is an invitation. But also a warning.
I steel myself, and walk through the door that says "Pit 4."
⚙️🕰🗝️🎩⚙
Bomb Queen is so far away that I have to squint to recognize her. We find ourselves on a huge, round, open stretch or ground: a circle of hard-packed dirt.
Around us, I can only see the stands swarming with spectators. The real hustle is at pit number one, where Duke's son and Stella are battling it out. The lad draws the most audience.
My thoughts go out to pit number three and my friend against my will. We haven't spoken this week, not fer 'er lack of trying. It was I who paid no mind to 'er. I have to remind myself Mar will be fine. Or will she? Will she be defeated by that hulky, silent and desperate, illegitimate Duke's son? Dem brass fists looked deadly to me from up close, they did. No, I refuse to believe it. She must have an ace up her sleeve, if the Duke chose her invention.
It's a relief to be fighting at the same time as everyone. Like that, I'm doing something, instead of just sitting in me fancy chamber waiting for the combat results.
"Ladies and gentlemen, luminaries of the world..." My thoughts are cut short with the Grand Duke's honey-sweet voice. The man clinks the glass he's holding to get our attention.
"Welcome to the Gaslight Trials! New discoveries are made every day, but they are child's play in comparison to the wonders our Champions have created with their genius and imagination. Think of mechanical marvels they've produced. We could use them to revolutionize the entire world. Together, we will usher in a new era. The era of the machines!" The maniacally upbeat Duke pumps his fist into the air.
"As you know, I am the one providing the winner with the key to the city of Lighthaven, and their own mansion. I have a distinguished honor and privilege of introducing you to a singular man. Without his generous contributions and diligent support, the aero ship prize this would not have been possible! Our Head of the Imperial City Armaments, our Benefactor and friend. Please salute... Baron Alexander Secundus!"
A chunky man with a cigarillo between his teeth trots over to the podium, bright and bubbly. His daughter, Baroness Cornelia Tertius, waves at the crowd.
"Thank you, Grand Duke. Thank you, citizens of Fumedge and Lighthaven. The aero ship I have brought from the Imperial City is the very latest technology indeed. Unlike anything you have ever seen! The harbinger of the coming age, the first mechanical marvel of the brand new world. Not only a means of transportation, but a veritable house in the sky. Capable of housing over a hundred occupants with ease, it boasts a luxury captain's suite equipped with only the finest of amenities. A dining hall, a library, a promenade. I am not overstating when I say it is to revolutionize air travel as we know it." He winks at the audience, twirling his mustache, as everyone ooh-s and aah-s in awe.
"Thank you, Baron Secundus." Grand Duke waves his golden sword at us Champions. "Our combatants today hail from both Lighthaven and Fumedge. The two sister cities that rose up out of the ashes of the natural disaster that befell a humankind. The rules are simple. Eight inventors give their all here, at the four Lighthaven Commons Pits. Four will continue to compete in the upcoming week. Yet only one may be the winner. Only one may hold the key to the City. Let this game be the first to bring peace and prosperity to its citizens. Victori sunt spolia. To the victor, go the spoils of war! And now, time to introduce our Champions!"
I swallow.
Thousands and thousands of men and women dressed in sun-colored robes sit in the elevated stands that surround the pits, the expressions on their faces unreadable. Some lean to each other, whispering. Others point at me as if I were a wandering circus freak —a marionette pinned there fer their amusement.
"Feast your eyes upon pit number four and give a big round of applause to our two inventors: Spark and Bomb Queen!" The Grand Duke exclaims and motions for Diana and me to approach.
The Bomb Queen's skeletal figure is clad in her lizard green costume. She wears a mere leather armor, just like me, and is armed with...
A friggin frag launcher. That thing's gonna lob grenades at me, I jus' know it. An explosive belt packed with mines encircles her thin waist.
I guess she chose a proper hero name.
She says nothing, but there is a tiny smirk tugging at the edge of her lips that brings out a sense of mischief, or of innocent fun.
We shake hands.
Hers are as solid and warm as an explosion.
Then we pull apart, and after the Duke introduces the other three pairings, the gong is heard again.
Before I can reach my gun, or even try to float in my Exoboots, Bomb Queen activates the frag launcher. A single projectile whooshes through the air and does kablooey right on the ground before me.
My feet shuffle for a moment, confused at the direction my brain wants to take. I lunge backwards. I can't hear the fecking thing from the ringing in me ears.
Sonic grenade. The hoe used a sonic grenade on me.
The general fear I've been feeling condenses into an immediate fear of this mad, deadly girl. This cackling predator who could explode me in seconds.
I click the button on my Exoboots and levitate in the air. Until I work out what angle to use with her, I have to at least act on top of things. Can't seem confused or frightened. No. Gotta be one step ahead. Keep my wits about me. Find the angle to shoot her.
"Running away, are we? Aww, already? And I was just starting to have fun!" Her insane glee gives me the hint as to how come she has no eyebrows or eyelashes.
Prob'ly singed 'em herself, the crazy lass.
Two more grenades detonate around my face in flashes of light; I close my eyes, not wanting to risk going blind.
"Beautiful, aren't they? My marvels of creation. Yet in the minds of many, they are the weapons of destruction. Demolitioner, the Lighthaven constables call me." Diana pulls the mines from her belt, and starts placing them on the ground of the pit.
The crowd goes mad with delight.
Soon the entire pit ground is peppered with them explosive devices. I'm not fighting one enemy. There are dozens. I won't have anywhere to land.
"But if I win... Tee-hee." Di pauses. "When I win, I will get a pardon. I'll never have to return to the Brig." She hums in a sing-song voice.
There's only one patch of ground that's free for me to descend and I must, for the Exoboots cough, sputter and refuse to keep me airborne anymore.
Judging from Di's cackle, she has me right where she wants me. Fer cryin out loud.
Her frag launcher goes va-voom, and the Bomb Queen disappears behind the veil.
The gas curtain.
"Now you see me... Now you don't! Hahahahahaha!" She guffaws, as the smokey substance scalds my throat and makes its way into my nose.
My body convulses, trying desperately to rid itself of the poisons I've sucked in during the attack. Why the feck didn't I put on my gas mask? Idiot. Lighthaven made me soft.
"I'd like to let you in on a very important secret before I dispatch you, my dear girl." Her voice is creeping up closer and closer. "The power, real power, doesn't come to those who were born with it. No. It comes to those who will do anything to win. And I will do anything to win."
I wonder what it would be like to give into this darkness. There is peace in it. The smoke curtain holds me, whispering these words: "Let me in. And every problem in the world will fade away."
But then there's this word, too: Pa.
It lights my every nerve with madness. Telling me to fight. To survive. I struggle to my feet. Sparks may be gone from Exoboots, but the magnet coils are still working. I jump and glue the soles to the steel sides of the battle arena.
And I run.
Run in circles. The ground is not safe, but as long as I can stick the boots to the steel, I won't have to stand on the ground. How long I scramble along the pit wall, dodging the grenades she is launching, I can't say, but her attacks finally begin to abate.
Which is good because there's that stomach sickness again. The force of the retching has squeezed tears out of my stinging eyes. My clothes are drenched in sweat and I have to stop. Need to stop. Just for a second.
A grenade crashes into the ground at my side, but not before it skids right across my right arm. Seeing my jacket covered in green droplets sends me over the edge.
Son of a gun. Acid.
It eats through the leather, and then the flesh is melting away fast, way too fast for me liking.
I find the mine-free ground patch again, and let myself fall onto it, landing on my back. The impact knocks every wisp of air from me lungs and I just lie there, flailing me limbs around like a helpless turtle. Struggling to inhale, to exhale. Unable to breathe, unable to speak.
I must get away from the toxic gas.
But obviously I can't go strolling into that mined mess without blowing meself sky-high. I have to stay put.
No. There's no time. I gotta face 'er. I've been running around the pit like a coward.
Couple o' more grenades and I'm done for. I know the fight is not a fight to death, but even if I yield, who knows what might swing the mood of the crowd? And something tells me Bomb Queen wouldn't accept me throwing in the towel.
Attack is the best defense.
I know what to do.
I give meself three sparks zaps to get the job done. I place my feet carefully, block out the rest of the world as I pull me disruptor sparks gun and take meticulous aim.
The first zap tears through the smoke curtain, leaving a split in the fog.
The second widens it to a gaping hole.
When I send the final array of sparks, they catch the mine web on the ground.
Fer a moment, time freezes. Then mine after mine explodes, and I am blown backwards into the air. The impact with the hard-packed earth of the pit knocks the wind out of me. My leather armor does little to soften the blow. The ground shakes with a chain of explosions. I can't hear them. I can't hear a thing.
But the sparks must have set off enough mines, and they, in turn, activated the others.
I shield me face with my left arm as shattered bits of matter, some of it burning, rain down around me.
When the ground stops vibrating, I roll on my side, staring at the smoldering wreckage that was recently the cleverly established network of explosive brass mines.
Another blast knocks me flat on my face. My backside is nothing but rash, broken, bleeding, and the wounds extend down my legs. Me arm is in need of attention, but I still can't look at it. I don't wanna. What if the acid ate away at it and I can see my bone?
The very thought constricts my innards.
My eyes firmly closed, I touch around the bloody chunk of meat, and suddenly feel the cold metal under me fingers.
The flask in my pocket. The metal flask with the alchemy healing potion that Langdon Septimus forgot in the lavatory!
I take it out with trembling fingers and gulp down the whole thing. The unfamiliar cool, minty taste washes the pain away.
A horde of unknown people bursts into the combat area. The blurry faces of constables, spectators, apothecaries... are slapping me on the back, cheering and congratulating me.
None of it seems real.
The smoke curtain finally fades away and what I see makes me gag.
The girl that sat there at the breakfast table in the dining hall, that leered at me with a provoking smile, that had hopes and dreams...
Her body parts are scattered all over pit number four.
And it was I who did that to her.
But if I hadn't...
If I hadn't, she would have done it to me.