The Iron Queen Part 15

Finally, the staircase ended in a balcony that overlooked the long drop to the bottom. Directly overhead was the wooden ceiling, and in the center of the balcony, a ladder led up to a square trapdoor, the kind you would push on to get into the attic. Puck climbed the ladder, jiggled the trapdoor, and when he discovered it wasn't locked, eased it open so he could peer through the crack. A moment later, he pushed it back all the way and motioned the rest of us up.

A cozy, cluttered room greeted us as we eased through the trapdoor, being careful not to make any noise. The floors and walls were all made of wood, with the far wall showing the back of the enormous clock face. Several tables ran through the room, every square inch of them taken up by timepieces of various sizes and designs. The walls were also covered with them. Cuckoo clocks, grandfather clocks, wooden clocks, sleek metal clocks-you name it, this place had it. All the clock faces showed a different time; none of them were the same. An endless ticking filled the air, and the occasional tweet, chime, or dong echoed throughout the room. If I stayed here long enough, I would go insane in a very short while.

The Clockmaker, whoever he was, was nowhere to be seen. A stuffed green chair sat in the corner, an island of comfort in the sea of clutter, though at the moment it was far from empty.

A huge, mirror-coated feline lay curled up on the cushion, breathing deeply as if asleep. Definitely not Grimalkin; I recognized the same type of creature that had attacked us on our way to the city. Before I could decide what to do, slitted emerald eyes opened and the cat bolted upright with a snarl.

We drew our swords, the screech of blades nearly drowned out by the sudden booming of a grandfather clock in the corner. The cat hissed and immediately rippled out of sight. I quickly reached for my own magic, trying to see where the cat went, ready to yell out instructions to Ash and Puck. But instead of attacking, the cat-shaped spot of glamour leaped onto a table, miraculously avoiding the many clocks that littered the surface, and bounded from the room, vanishing though a small entrance in the back.

"There you are," said a voice. "Right on time."

A small, hunched creature pushed aside a curtain and came waddling down the rows of tables. He was half my height and wore a bright red vest with several pocket watches adorning the fabric. His head was a cross between human and mouse, with large round ears, bright beady eyes, and a mustache that looked suspiciously like whiskers. A thin, tufted tail swayed behind him as he walked, and a pair of tiny gold gla.s.ses perched on the end of his nose.

"h.e.l.lo, Meghan Chase," he greeted, hopping onto a stool and pulling a watch out of his vest, observing it sagely. "It is very good to meet you at last. I would put on a pot of tea, but I'm afraid you have no time to stay and chat. Pity." He blinked at my silence, then must've noticed the wary looks of my companions. "Oh, don't mind Ripple. I keep him around for the gremlins. Nasty little things, gremlins, always getting into the gear heads, throwing everything off. Now, Meghan Chase..." He put his watch away and folded his long fingers to his chest, gazing up at me. "Our time is fading fast. Why have you come?"

I gave a start. "What...don't you know? You already knew my name, and when I was coming."

"Of course." The Clockmaker twitched his whiskers. "Of course course I knew what time you would get here, girl. Just as I know what time Goodfellow will knock over my nineteenth-century French mantle clock." Puck jerked up at this, b.u.mping a table and sending a clock crashing to the floor. "To the second," the Clockmaker sighed, closing his eyes. Opening them again, he observed me with a piercingly bright gaze, ignoring Puck as he quickly put the clock back on the table, trying to piece it together again. "I see how everything starts, and the exact moment its time runs out. But that was not my question, Meghan Chase. I know why you are here. The question is, do you?" I knew what time you would get here, girl. Just as I know what time Goodfellow will knock over my nineteenth-century French mantle clock." Puck jerked up at this, b.u.mping a table and sending a clock crashing to the floor. "To the second," the Clockmaker sighed, closing his eyes. Opening them again, he observed me with a piercingly bright gaze, ignoring Puck as he quickly put the clock back on the table, trying to piece it together again. "I see how everything starts, and the exact moment its time runs out. But that was not my question, Meghan Chase. I know why you are here. The question is, do you?"

I shared a look with Ash, who shrugged. "I'm looking for the false king," I said, wincing as Puck dropped something small and shiny with a curse, sending it rolling across the floor. "Ironhorse said you might be able to help."

"Ironhorse?" The Clockmaker's whiskers trembled, and he hopped down from the stool, waddling across the room. "I saw when his clock stopped, when his time finally ran out. He was one of the great ones, though his fate was tied directly to King Machina. When Machina's seconds trickled away, it was only a matter of time before Ironhorse stopped, too."

I swallowed the lump in my throat at the thought of Ironhorse. "We need to find the false king," I said. "Do you know where he is?"

"No." The Clockmaker sniffed, picking up a bolt and frowning at it. "I do not."

I blew out my breath in a huff. "Then why are we here?"

"All in good time, my dear. All in good time." Shooing Puck away from the table, the Clockmaker turned to his work. His long fingers flew over the clock, barely distinguishable blurs, like he was typing something in fast-forward. "I told you, girl, I know the time time things happen, and when they end. I do not know the reasons why. Nor do I know the location of the false king." He straightened, fishing in his vest to pull out a white cloth, which he used to polish the once-broken clock. "However, I do know this. You will find him, and find him soon. Your destiny, and the destiny of many others, are shown in the faces of the clocks, ticking away together. So, you see, girl." He picked up the clock and hopped from the stool, pausing to stare at me with beady eyes. "You already know everything you need to find him." things happen, and when they end. I do not know the reasons why. Nor do I know the location of the false king." He straightened, fishing in his vest to pull out a white cloth, which he used to polish the once-broken clock. "However, I do know this. You will find him, and find him soon. Your destiny, and the destiny of many others, are shown in the faces of the clocks, ticking away together. So, you see, girl." He picked up the clock and hopped from the stool, pausing to stare at me with beady eyes. "You already know everything you need to find him."

I bit down my impatience. This was useless. And every second we wasted here, Puck and Ash's amulets were corroding, succ.u.mbing to the poison of the Iron Realm. "Please," I told the Clockmaker, "we don't have much...time. If you say you can help us, do it now so we can be on our way."

"Yes," agreed the Clockmaker, turning to face me fully. "Now it is time." it is time."

He reached into his vest, and pulled out a large iron key on a silk ribbon. "This is yours," he said solemnly, handing it over. "Keep it safe. Do not lose it, for you will need it soon."

I took the key, watching it spin and dangle in the light. "What is it for?"

"I do not know." The Clockmaker blinked at my frown. "As I said, girl; I only know the when when of a thing. I do not know the of a thing. I do not know the hows hows and and whys. whys. But I do know this: in one hundred and sixty-one hours, thirteen minutes, and fifty-two seconds, you will need that key." But I do know this: in one hundred and sixty-one hours, thirteen minutes, and fifty-two seconds, you will need that key."

"A hundred and sixty hours? That's several days days from now. How am I supposed to keep track?" from now. How am I supposed to keep track?"

"Take this." The Clockmaker reached into the other side of his vest and drew forth a pocket watch, spinning hypnotically on a gold chain. "Everyone should have a time device," he stated as he handed it to me. "I do not know how the oldbloods do it, never worrying about time. I would find it simply maddening. So, I give this to you."

"I...um...appreciate it."

His whiskers twitched. "I am sure you do. Oh, and one last thing. That watch you hold, Meghan Chase? Its life span is drawing to a close. Thirty-two minutes and twelve seconds from the time you use that key, it will cease to run."

I felt a chill in the warm, cozy room. "What does that mean?"

"It means," the Clockmaker said, his beady eyes never blinking as they stared at me, "that in one hundred and sixty-one hours, forty-five minutes, and fifty-eight seconds, something will happen to make that watch stop.

"Now." He smiled at me-at least, I think he did-beneath his whiskers and gave me a slight bow. "I believe our time together has come to an end. Good luck to you, Meghan Chase," he said as he waddled out of the room. "Remember, it ends at the beginning. And give my regards to the first lieutenant, when you see him." He pushed aside the curtains over the door, slipped through, and was gone.

I sighed. Threading the key through the watch's chain, I looped the whole thing around my neck. "Just once, I'd like it if a faery could give me a straight answer," I muttered as Ash pulled up the trapdoor again. "Seems to me this whole trip was a waste of time, time we don't have. And where the h.e.l.l is Grimalkin? Maybe he could make some sense of everything, if he didn't keep disappearing every time I turn around."

"I am right here, human." Grimalkin appeared on the chair, curled up much as the larger cat had been. His tail thumped the cushion irritably. "Where I was for much of the conversation. It is not my fault you cannot see past the end of your nose." With an offended air, the cat leaped from the cushion and slipped out the trapdoor, not stopping to look back.

Great, now the cat was mad at me. Knowing Grimalkin, I'd have to beg and plead for him to tell us what he knew, or offer up my firstborn son or something.

Frustrated, I stomped back down the stairs, Ash and Puck trailing behind. Outside, the city glittered with lights, both natural and artificial, but except for the gremlins, chattering and buzzing in the shadows, the streets themselves were empty. I wondered how much time we had lost, coming here. I wondered, despite Grimalkin's a.s.surances, if it had really been necessary.

"Where to now?" Ash mused, looking at me. "Do we have a destination?"

"Yes," I said decisively, almost relieved to be back on track. "The tower."

"The tower? Machina's Machina's tower?" tower?"

I nodded. "That's the only place I know of to find the false king. The Clockmaker said so himself-it ends at the beginning. Everything started with him. him. Machina's tower is where we have to go." Machina's tower is where we have to go."

"Sounds good to me," Puck said, crossing his arms. "We have a plan. Finally. So, uh...how do we get there? I don't see any information booths selling maps."

I closed my eyes, trying to remember the Iron King's tower and the path we took to get there. I saw the railroad, cutting straight through a flat obsidian plain, lava pools and smokestacks littering the ground. I remembered walking down that road with Ash, the sun glaring in our faces, toward the stark black monolith rising in the distance.

"East," I muttered, opening my eyes. "Machina's tower is in the very center of the Iron Realm. If we head east, we should be able to find it."

CHAPTER SIXTEEN.

ECHOES OF THE PAST.

We walked for nearly two days, stopping only to catch a few hours of exhausted sleep before heading eastward again. Following the rising sun, we traveled through a marsh of bubbling oil, where the rusty hulls of cars lay rotting in the sludge, through a forest of street lamps and telephone poles, where strange electrical birds flitted from wire to wire, leaving sparks in their wake. We walked past "the Valley of Worms," as Puck called it, a gully filled with thousands of discarded computers, crawling with huge worms, some bigger than pythons, their metallic blue hides lit with hundreds of blinking lights and sparks. Thankfully, they seemed blind to, or uncaring of, our presence, but my heart was still pounding against my ribs miles after we left the Valley of Worms behind.

As we traveled, I began to feel a strange pulse from the land, faint at first, but growing stronger the farther we went. As if something was calling to me, drawing me close like the pull of a magnet. And the eerie thing was, if I closed my eyes and really concentrated, I could feel feel the center of the Iron Realm, like an invisible bull's-eye in my mind. I didn't mention it to Ash and Puck, unsure if it was just a crazy hunch, but I caught Grimalkin watching me once or twice, glowing cat eyes serious and thoughtful, as if he knew something was going on. the center of the Iron Realm, like an invisible bull's-eye in my mind. I didn't mention it to Ash and Puck, unsure if it was just a crazy hunch, but I caught Grimalkin watching me once or twice, glowing cat eyes serious and thoughtful, as if he knew something was going on.

On the second day, we reached the edge of a vast desert, a sea of sand dunes, rising and falling with the wind. I'd never seen the ocean, but I imagined it must be something like this, only with water instead of sand, sprawling and endless, stretching away into the horizon. To our left, a wall of sheer black cliffs soared up over the dunes, and wind-pushed waves crashed against the jagged rocks, spraying dust into the air like sea foam.

"Are you sure we're still going the right way, princess?" Puck asked, shielding his eyes from the glare of the sun. I gazed out over the dunes, squinting in the harsh light, and felt a pulse somewhere on the other side, the beacon that was calling me.

"Yes." I nodded. "We're still on track. Let's keep moving."

The desert and the cliffs seemed to go on forever. Just walking through the sand proved challenging; though it held our weight, we still sank into the dunes, up to our knees sometimes, as if the desert wanted to swallow us whole. Every so often, the sand hills would be swept away by the wind, revealing what lay beneath. Strange items rose to the surface, like driftwood bobbing in the waves. Everything from socks to pens, forks and spoons, keys, earrings, wallets, Matchbox cars, and an endless amount of coins, were unearthed for just a moment, glinting in the light, before the sand curled over them once more, hiding them from view.

Once, out of curiosity, I bent and scooped a bright pink cell phone out of the sand, flipping it open. Of course, the batteries were long dead, and the screen was dark, but there was a faded sticker on the front, a h.e.l.lo Kitty with j.a.panese kanji beneath. I wondered how it got here. It obviously had belonged to somebody at one time. Had they simply lost it?

"Thinking of making a call, princess?" Puck asked as he caught up to me and raised an eyebrow at the phone in my hand. "Reception out here probably sucks. Though, if you do get a signal, try ordering for pizza. I'm starving."

"I see," I said abruptly, making Puck frown in confusion. Gesturing around at the dunes, I continued. "I know where we are, sort of. I'll bet all of these items were lost at one time, in the mortal world. Look at this stuff: pens, keys, cell phones. This is where it all comes, where the lost things finally end up."

"The Desert of Lost Things," Puck said dramatically. "Well, that's appropriate. We're We're here, aren't we?" here, aren't we?"

"We are not not lost," I told him firmly, tossing the cell phone away. It hit the sand and was swallowed immediately. "I know exactly where I'm going." lost," I told him firmly, tossing the cell phone away. It hit the sand and was swallowed immediately. "I know exactly where I'm going."

"Oh, good. And here I thought we were taking the scenic route."

"We've got trouble." Ash's curt voice interrupted us. The Winter prince came striding up the dune with Grimalkin trotting behind him, his long fur standing on end. A sudden blast of hot wind tossed his hair and made his cloak snap around him. "There's a storm coming," Ash said, and pointed across the desert. "Look."

I squinted over the dunes. On the horizon, shimmering in the heat, something was moving. As the wind began to howl, filling the air with grocery lists, homework sheets, and baseball cards, I saw a wall of swirling, glittering sand, eating up the ground as it flowed toward us like an unleashed flood.

"Sandstorm!" I gasped, stumbling backward. "What'll we do? There's nowhere we can really go."

"This way," Grimalkin said, sounding much calmer than I was feeling. A gust of wind tossed sand over his back, and he shook himself impatiently. "We have to get to the cliffs before the main storm arrives, or it could become unpleasant. Follow me."

We headed for the cliffs, fighting the sand and wind that shrieked around us, ripping at clothes and stinging exposed flesh. As the storm drew closer, heavier items began to fly through the air, as well. When a pair of scissors. .h.i.t me in the chest, skittering off the dragon-scale armor, my blood ran cold. We had to get to shelter quickly, or we'd be sliced to pieces.

The edge of the dust storm roared over me like a tidal wave, screaming in my ears, pelting me with sand and other things. With my eyes squinted nearly closed, I couldn't see where I was going, and dust clogged my nose and mouth, making it hard to breathe. I lost sight of Grimalkin and the others and struggled blindly through the maelstrom, one arm covering my face, the other held out in front of me.

Someone took my hand, pulling me forward. I peeked up and saw Ash, head and shoulders hunched against the wind, dragging me toward the looming cliff wall, a dark curtain in the middle of a stormy sea. Puck was already crouched behind a jagged outcropping, huddled against it as streams of sand flowed around him, bouncing odds and ends off the stones.

"Well, this is fun," Puck said as we ducked behind the rock, huddled together as wind and sand shrieked around us. "It's not every day I get to tell someone I was attacked by a pair of flying reading gla.s.ses. Ow." He rubbed his forehead, where a bruise had started to form.

"Where's Grimalkin?" I yelled, peering into the raging wind. A plastic doll head struck the rock inches from my face and went bouncing into the storm, and I cringed back.

"I am here." Grimalkin materialized behind the rock, shaking sand from his coat in a dusty cloud. "There is a small opening in the cliff wall a few yards down," he announced, peering up at me. "I am going there now, if you care to follow. It is more comfortable than cringing against a rock."

Hugging the wall, arms raised to shield our eyes from sand and flying objects, we trailed Grimalkin along the cliff until we reached a narrow crack, a corridor that snaked away into the rock. The opening was tight and narrow, and there wasn't much room to do more than stand, but it was better than being out in the storm.

I squeezed into the corridor, sighing in relief. My ears rang from the shrieking wind, and sand clung to everything: hair, lips, eyelashes. Taking off one gauntlet, I wiped my face, wishing I had a towel, and tried combing the sand from my hair.

"Ugh." Puck shook his head like a dog, sending dust and grit flying. Ash glared at him and moved away from the shower, standing beside me. "Ack. Blech. Oh, great, I'm already starting to itch. I'm going to have sand in every crack for months now."

Grinning at Puck's statement, I reached up and ruffled Ash's hair, sending a rain of dust to the ground. He winced and gave me a rueful look. "I wonder how long the storm will last," I mused out loud, watching sand hurl past the opening. Catching sight of Grimalkin, grooming rigorously on a nearby rock, I called out to him. "Grim? Any ideas?"

The cat didn't even slow down. "Why do you ask me, human?" he asked, licking himself as though his fur was on fire and not just covered in sand. "I have never been here." He shook his head, then moved on to his paws and whiskers. "We could be here for minutes or days-I am no expert of the sand and wind cycles in the Desert of Lost Things." His voice was thick with sarcasm, and I rolled my eyes. "Although," he continued, furiously scrubbing his face, "it might interest you to know there is a tunnel around the corner to the right, half-hidden behind a bush. Perhaps you should see to it that it is empty, and not filled with Iron spiders or something equally unpleasant."

We drew our weapons. Talk about a rock and a hard place. The last thing we wanted was to be trapped in a narrow corridor with an enemy bearing down on us and the storm at our backs. With Ash in front of me and Puck bringing up the rear, we edged forward until we found the tunnel Grim was talking about, a gaping slash in the rock wall, dark and uninviting, like the open mouth of a beast.

Cautiously, Ash poked his sword through the opening, and when nothing immediately leaped out, I eased forward to peer inside.

At first, as my eyes adjusted to the darkness, it looked like an ordinary stone tunnel, maybe to a cave system or something similar. But then I saw that the tunnel had been carved out of the rock, that a clump of familiar white mushrooms grew on the wall near the entrance, and an old metal lantern hung on a nail farther in. This wasn't a random cave. Someone had been using these tunnels, and recently.

And suddenly, I knew where we were.

"Princess, wait," Puck warned as I stepped in farther. "What are you doing?"

"I know what this is," I muttered, taking the lantern off the nail. It still had oil, and I coaxed a tiny flame to life, lifting it up. The light glinted off a toy fire engine lying next to a rock, and I had to smile. "Yes," I murmured, bending down to pick up the toy truck. "This is a packrat tunnel. I'm sure of it."

"Pack what?" Puck frowned as he ducked through the opening, still keeping his daggers out as he glared around uneasily. "Rats? Giant iron rats? Oh, thank goodness, that's so much better than spiders."

"No." I glared at him as Ash sheathed his sword and stepped into the tunnel, gazing around cautiously. "Packrats. Little Iron fey that carry mounds of junk on their backs. We met them on our first trip through the Iron Realm, when I was looking for Machina. These tunnels should lead right to their nest."

"Oh. Awesome. That makes me feel so so much better." much better."

"Will you stop it? They're harmless. And they helped us before." I put down the truck and stepped farther into the tunnel, raising the lantern as high as I could. The burrow snaked away into pitch blackness, but I felt that same odd pull, coming from the dark.

"Where are you going, human?" Grimalkin appeared on a nearby rock, watching me intently. "Do you know the way through these tunnels? It would be highly annoying if we became lost following you."

"I know the way," I said softly, taking a few steps forward, deeper into the burrow. "And if we can find the packrats, they'll be able to help us." Turning around, I saw all three hanging back with varying dubious expressions, and sighed. "I know what I'm doing, guys. Trust me, okay?"

Ash and Puck shared a brief glance, and then Ash pushed himself off the wall to stand beside me. "Lead the way," he said, nodding into the darkness. "We'll be right behind you."

"For the record," Grimalkin stated as we ventured, single file, into the black, "I do not think this is a good idea. But, as no one listens to the cat anymore, I will have to wait until we are completely lost to say 'I told you so.'"

THE TUNNELS WENT ON. Like a giant rabbit warren or termite nest, they twisted and curled their way through the mountain, leading us deep underground. I followed the strange pull, letting it guide me through the seemingly endless maze of burrows, Ash, Puck, and Grim trailing behind. The stone-worked tunnels all looked the same, except for the odd broken toy or piece of junk scattered among the rocks. Several times, we pa.s.sed through a nexus where multiple channels broke off in different directions. But I always knew which way to go, which tunnel to follow, and didn't even think much about it, until Grimalkin gave a sudden, irritated hiss. Like a giant rabbit warren or termite nest, they twisted and curled their way through the mountain, leading us deep underground. I followed the strange pull, letting it guide me through the seemingly endless maze of burrows, Ash, Puck, and Grim trailing behind. The stone-worked tunnels all looked the same, except for the odd broken toy or piece of junk scattered among the rocks. Several times, we pa.s.sed through a nexus where multiple channels broke off in different directions. But I always knew which way to go, which tunnel to follow, and didn't even think much about it, until Grimalkin gave a sudden, irritated hiss.

"How are you doing this, human?" he demanded, lashing his tail in agitation. "You have been here only once, and it is impossible for mortals to memorize directions so quickly. How do you know you are going the right way?" are you doing this, human?" he demanded, lashing his tail in agitation. "You have been here only once, and it is impossible for mortals to memorize directions so quickly. How do you know you are going the right way?"

"I don't know," I muttered, taking us down yet another side pa.s.sage. "I just do."

Puck's bark of laughter startled me. "See?" he crowed, pointing at Grimalkin, who flattened his ears at him. "You see how irritating that is? Remember that, next time you-hey!" he called as Grimalkin disappeared. "Yeah, I can't see you, but I know you can still hear me!"

We were getting closer to the packrats' nest, a fact I knew because of the amount of junk that started appearing in random places: a broken keyboard here, a bicycle horn there. Soon the tunnels were strewn with it, making us watch where we put our feet. Unease gnawed at me; this far in, we should've run into a packrat or two. I had been looking forward to meeting them again, wondering if they remembered me. But the tunnels felt empty and cold, abandoned. And they had been that way for a while.

Abruptly, the tunnel fell away, and we stepped into a huge cavern, with mountains of junk piled farther than we could see. Making our way past the enormous trash heaps, I strained my eyes and ears, hoping to catch a glimpse of the packrats, hear them babble in their funny language. But, in my heart, I knew it was futile. I couldn't sense any spark of life in this place. The packrats were long gone.

"Hey," Puck said suddenly, his voice echoing about the cavern. "Is that...a throne?"

I drew in a sharp breath. A chair made entirely of junk sat atop a smaller mound of rubbish in the center of the room. On a whim, I walked over to the mound and crouched at the foot of the throne, and began sifting through the debris.

"Um...princess?" Puck asked. "What are you doing?"

"Aha!" Straightening, I raised my hand in triumph, brandishing my old iPod. Ash and Puck both gave me confused looks as I tossed the broken device on the mound again. "I just wanted to see if it was still here. We can go now."

"I take it you've been here before," Ash said quietly, nodding to the chair. "And that throne wasn't empty the first time, was it? Who sat there?"

"His name was Ferrum," I replied, remembering the old, old man with silver hair that nearly touched the floor. "He said he was the first Iron King, the one Machina overthrew when he took over. The packrats still worshipped him as king, even though he was terrified of Machina." I felt a faint p.r.i.c.k of sadness, staring at the empty seat. "I guess he finally died, and the packrats left when he was gone. I wish I knew where they went."