Grinding Gears: Book 1

By Andrew Yarbrough

Eight centuries ago, Kalimyne the Calamity, an alchemic being of immense power and insanity, was defeated and sealed away. It had taken a war that spanned a decade and cost thousands of lives.
These days, a revolution of technology has changed the face of war as well as daily life. Clockwork, Steam, and Magic compete to be the prime lifeblood of human society.
London Gearmesher follows the philosophy of the Clocksmith, creating devices of both domestic and violent purpose. As she enters into adulthood, London finds herself striving to leave apprenticeship, but even her own family history stand in her way.
What is this history? Will it spell hope or calamity as the ancient seal begins to crack?

• Language: English
• Publisher: Xlibris US
• Release date: Feb 19, 2015
• ISBN: 9781503537095

Andrew Yarbrough

Andrew Yarbrough loves fiction stories. Since childhood, these other worlds excited and drove his imagination. Now aiming to return the favor and inspire others, he begins the Grinding Gears series with Coming Calamity. He began writing fan fictions during high school as a stress device, and in 2006, he began working on original short stories. When not working, Andrew spends most of his time with his family and friends around his hometown in the Minnesota Suburbs.

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Grinding Gears

Book 1

Coming Calamity

Andrew Yarbrough

Copyright © 2015 by Andrew Yarbrough.

Cover Art by Oscar Rodriguez

All rights reserved. No part of this book may be reproduced or transmitted in any form or by any means, electronic or mechanical, including photocopying, recording, or by any information storage and retrieval system, without permission in writing from the copyright owner.

This is a work of fiction. Names, characters, places and incidents either are the product of the author’s imagination or are used fictitiously, and any resemblance to any actual persons, living or dead, events, or locales is entirely coincidental.

Any people depicted in stock imagery provided by Thinkstock are models, and such images are being used for illustrative purposes only.

Certain stock imagery © Thinkstock.

Rev. date: 02/11/2015

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Contents

I

II

III

IV

V

VI

VII

VIII

IX

X

XI

XII

XIII

XIV

XV

XVI

XVII

XVIII

XIX

XX

XXI

XXII

XXIII

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XXX

XXXI

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XL

XLI

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XLVII

XLVIII

XLIX

L

To my Grandfathers: inspiration and drive to better myself.

I

L ONDON WOKE WITH a start as something shook her shoulder. She groggily opened her emerald eyes and pulled up her goggles to control her golden bangs. Huh?

A soft-spoken voice with an accent that seemed to draw out his A’s roused. Wake up, lazy.

She started to move about a bit as her fellow apprentice’s red eyes looked at her while he was squatted beside her. Oh, Vega. She yawned overtly. What time is it?

It’s near the third hour of the morning, he said; his unnaturally dark hair shifted as he shrugged. Judging from the moon Tartus.

Bolting up, London looked incredulously at her friend, her vibrant waist-length locks spilling about as she did. You … She seemed angry. You were supposed to wake me an hour ago!

Vega poked London’s olive-toned nose and smiled softly. But you were sleeping so soundly I let you continue.

Feeling she was ready to stand now, London hopped her lithe frame up using mostly just her well-trained body, not needing to use her hands. She looked almost like a dancer from how fluid it was. She huffed out her slight chest. Vega Eterniya. The haughtiness she exuded was comical considering what she was saying. I’m nearly seventeen years old. When will you stop treating me like a child?

Looking like he was restraining a chuckle, he said, London Gearmesher! His sarcasm was palpable as he mocked her. When I was sixteen years old, I still looked like a ten-year-old human. Right now I look much like you do agewise at twenty-three, and my parents are only just beginning to take me seriously.

Argh! London rubbed her eyes and along her cheek markings that ran from the bottoms of her eyes to the corners of her mouth. They were much fainter than those of her ancestors, but the lineage they represented was something her family guarded closely. You really are impossible sometimes. She leaned onto the railing of the watchtower they were on and looked over the ocean.

Joining his companion, Vega rested his elbows on the railing and closed his eyes as the early morning sea breeze blew mildly. I do try. He checked his watch, winding it up as the coil had begun to lose enough tension to slow the timepiece. Yeah, three in the morning plus a few minutes.

I don’t understand why you keep that thing. London went and double-checked the other side of the watchtower. She began smiling warmly at her home, the city-ship Atlantia, a few glittering lights in the otherwise black of night. Be it day or night, even if it’s cloudy you always seem to know what time it is.

Placing a hand on the device, Vega stayed where he was, looking out over the water. This watch was the first thing I made without instruction. It’s my first Clocksmithing from start to finish, from ore to bars to shaping the metal and placement, even carving the glass for the face was all me.

Oh! Turning and reaching into her brightly colored top through the collar, London produced a wind-up key done up like a pendant. She looked at it like it were some trophy of a monumental task. Kinda like my key … She reached back under the collar with the said key in hand. Speaking of, I gotta loosen my shoulders a little. The key found itself inserted into the hole made specifically for it, one just like you’d find on all her devices. With a slight twist of the key, the gears and coils turned on the chestpiece of her Clockwork Skeleton. The Skeleton covered most of her body in a network of gears and springs and coils, designed to store energy through the use of keys or movements or ratchets. It depended on who smithed it; then at a time of the wearer’s choosing through a trigger or similar mechanism, it releases all of it at once for massive striking power.

Your key or your Skeleton. Vega’s expression turned slightly emotional. Most Clocksmith Paladins have their Skeletons built into their armors … but it’s like a second skin to you.

N-no … Her tone darkened a bit as she hugged herself slightly. Not quite like my Skeleton.

Yeah … I guess they are totally different …

There was awkwardness in the silence that followed for a short time afterwards as they both went about keeping watch.

Why are we doing this again? London asked out of the blue.

Vega flatly answered, Because we were ordered to by Master Richard.

"But I mean why did Father give us a night watch?"

Do you really not remember, or are you just trying to upset me?

What do you mea— London was cut off by an accusing finger pointing right in her face.

You are why we are here. You and your inability to take an insult with dignity.

Thinking for a second, London suddenly remembered. When William Hammerfall and his posse thought it was smart to f—

Vega was not a fan of profanities which London was liable to say once in a while when something excites or upsets her, so he put the pointing finger to her lips to shush her. Yes, when the Traditional smiths apprentices decided to harass us, who ‘dare to change an art that’s been well established for eons.’ He pulled his claymore from his back, and faint runes glowed in reaction to the mana in his blood, thanks to his family’s demonic influences. I’ve no idea what they mean about me though. I’m not trying to change a classic art. His eyes glowed slightly, and his black hair seemed to move with an unfelt wind. The runes which were faint before flashed brightly, and suddenly the sword was emitting flames. I’m creating a whole different kind of war devices. He released his hold on the magical energies in his blood, and the fire died, the runes returning to their dull glow.

Tower two! a concerned-sounding voice came echoing through a voicetube. This is the Control Tower. We saw that flash from here. Please tell us all’s well.

This is Tower Two, Conn. London’s expression seemed to say, ‘Look who got us in trouble now,’ as she leaned to the cone and yelled her reply back to the officer of the watch. Don’t worry, my partner’s example got a little out of hand. We apologize.

Sounds like a kid, the officer responded. Who’s manning this station?

I’m not a kid, dammit! London stuck her tongue out at the visionless cone

Hey! Vega flicked her forehead. If you want them to treat you like an adult, then mind your tongue and stop acting like a child. He sat down in the short stool that London had been sleeping in beforehand, and he crossed his arms and laid the ankle of his right leg on his left knee as he closed his eyes and let his neck relax.

The tongue curled before London turned it in Vega’s direction for a moment before answering properly to their superior. Gearmesher and Eterniya, sir.

Oh, the punitive watch. Cut your shenanigans and return to your work.

Aye, sir. It’s been months since we’ve seen any dragons though.

Be thankful for that. Now get back to your watch.

Aye, aye. London yawned before taking her place back on the railing, looking over the vast darkness of the sea. Not like I can see anything out here anyways …

London, Vega called, his voice showing that he was indeed tired, as lovely and flowing as your voice is. He opened his eyes before pulling his goggles over them. Shut up and let me sleep. With that said, he closed his eyes and settled in for the few hours of sleep he’d be getting that night.

London had a teasing attitude as she snapped to perfect attention and snapped a crisp salute. Oh yes, sir, Admiral of the Fleet! Let me get right on that!

The sarcasm returning to his voice seemed greatly familiar as Vega simply huffed and oozed out the words. Good night, princess.

Leaning lazily back over the railing and crossing one leg behind the other, London’s voice sounded familial as she quietly replied, Yeah, sleep well.

II

T HE CLANGING OF hammers filled the air of the Crafts District of Atlantia with a very familiar ringing as London and Vega returned to the Clocksmiths’ Guild in the morning. Despite being short on sleep, London seemed as if the whole night had been nothing more than an inconvenience and hummed a very punctuated melody that seemed to be used for timing more than anything else.

Vega chuckled and began singing with her, his voice having an odd depth to it despite his usual airy tone, starting once the song recycled:

The hammer SINGS

when making THINGS.

The timing seemed to sync perfectly with the rhythm of the hammers. This was a smith’s song; hearing the steady strikes all day led the artisans to create their own genre of music.

London sang the next lines:

From morning LIGHT

to dark of NIGHT

the hammer loves to SING.

As they passed the door of one of the grand smiths that did everything from making ship parts for the fleet that sustained and protected humanity to the weapons that defended the people to even simple things like flatware or decor; some of the workers could hear them singing, and they joined in.

Or rather they would have but for the sudden sound of a steam-powered siren. Both Vega and London took off at a full sprint toward their destination further down the street. Sounds of general commotion filled the air by the time they reached their home, the Clocksmiths’ Guild.

Master Richard! Vega called as they entered the door.

A man of the same skin tone as London and greased-back hair of the same brilliant yellow was throwing armor over his powerful-looking chest as he directed the chaos as best he could. Paladins to the skimmers! His squared brow was set with all the seriousness of war. Apprentices to duty stations!

But, Father! London begged the man who turned to show his angular face, looking stern. I’m good enough to be a Paladin. I merely haven’t taken the trials yet. Let me fight!

His voice was unbudging, telling from even the first time that there would be no argument. Then it’s to Duty Stations! You aren’t tested. You aren’t a Paladin. Now belt up your tools and get ready to fix anything or help evacuate the damaged areas!

Aye, sir! Vega grabbed her arm to prevent further distracting the man who was now repeatedly pulling on the drawstring of an incredibly powerful-looking bow that seemed to unfold more and more each time he drew it. The air was full of ratcheting as everyone similarly prepared their equipment before the older members all went out the door.

Vega, you’re in charge of the apprentices! Smithmaster Richard commanded as he left to join them.

Aye, sir! He responded as his face took on another level of seriousness. He turned to face those in a similar age range as himself as he began putting on a sturdy belt absolutely loaded with pouches and tools hanging from it. All right! I need Team Iron to head toward the Engine Room. It was a constant siren, meaning a ship showing hostilities, be prepared for the possibility of a boarding party getting past the Paladins and trying to disable us. Stick to your Team and you’ll be fine!

Aye, sir! a group of four responded before heading out the door.

Team Gold! He put on a light platemail as he turned to another group. You’re on crowd control! Get the people to the shelters and protect those bunkers in case we’re boarded!

Aye, sir!

He pulled on a worn-looking pair of thick leather gloves, and turning to the remaining three others, he grinned. Team Hammer! We’re on direct-damage control!

London looked elated. Yes!

Any spells or anything damages the ship near the battle, we take care of it! That also means that if we see an enemy-presence in range—

London started boxing an imaginary foe. Crush their smug faces and show them that simply because we’ve been driven from the land doesn’t mean humans can’t fight!

Move out!

Aye, sir!

III

L OOKING OVER THE side of the ship when they arrived, London could see there were three frigate sized ships flying the green flag with a golden sun emblazoned upon it of the Magus Imperium.

It’s not Dragons. The red headed member of their crew nervously cranked at the ratchet in his sword’s hilt. But their loyal lapdogs are here.

That’s just as bad, Titan. Vega’s voice was sounding concerned as he watched three groups of people riding what looked much like planks of metal, making a high-pitched whirr as the gearworks inside pushed them through the water, coils kept tight by a ratchet under the rider’s rear foot. Each of the three formations veered to board separate ships.

There go the officers, Titan commented again. I hope they realize that they’re fighting mages.

Have you lost a gear, darling? The sickly looking fourth member of the team spoke as she observed the battle that was now beginning, her eyes focusing in and out strangely as if she could actually focus on every individual thing as she began ratcheting up a bow constructed in much the same fashion as Richard Gearmesher’s; hers, however, was more softly angled, having an almost inherently graceful look to it. Prepare for catapults. They have ballistae as well on the nearest ship.

I assure you, Maryann, that I am wholly sane. Titan clucked his tongue. You, on the other hand, seem to think you can make a shot that’s nearly a battleship from end to end in distance.

Knocking an arrow, Maryann’s eyes focus obscenely, looking nearly completely grey with no pupil at all, Twenty gild on it … Looks like the usual, three mages per catapult, one raising the seawater to load, one to freeze, and the other to control the machine.

You’ll bet your whole weekly allowance on one shot? Titan scoffed as she pulled the bow to its set position.

Don’t take that bet. Vega chuckled. That’s been her obsession lately, mastering the longshot like Master Richard the Arrowflight.

I’ll double the bet. Titan seemed to be reaching for his coin pouch as he said it.

The sound of a coil releasing a vast amount of energy and grinding gears accompanied the flight of an arrow made of solid steel. The odd thing was that the shot wasn’t even fired in the direction of the enemy vessels; it was almost a full twenty degrees ahead of them. The glint of metal flying through the air arced with the wind as they all watched with anticipation. All but Maryann, who merely stated incoming as she quickly retightened the coil in her bow.

London reacted first as a massive ball of ice came careening toward the deck about three hundred yards away. On it! she called as she crouched and slapped her ankle, releasing the trigger on her leg coils, boosting her speed incredibly as she ratcheted her wrist, priming a different coil. London planted herself and took a powerful stance moments before the boulder impacted.

Giving a roaring scream as she swung, London punched the incoming object as she triggered the coil in her arm. RRRAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAHHHHHH!

For a moment, nothing happened but the ice stopping cold as her armored knuckles impacted with a reverberating cracking sound and spiderwebs of cracks showing inside the nearly clear boulder. After a span of breath, it fell uselessly to the ocean below. London clutched at her arm as she ran back to her team who were not so direct in their equally or more successful attempts to protect the ship. Looking up and down the side of the ship, one could see teams of other fighters from the Mystics, Traditionalists, and the Maritime Regulars.

Everyone else is late. Titan laughed, and he released the trigger on his weapon as he rapidly drew it, causing a high-pitched whistlelike sound, and the details on the blade seemed to stop existing as it vibrated at super high speeds. The missile never stood a chance as it was split down the middle, and the vibrations caused the weakened structure to crumble. We’re always the first of the military to show up.

You all right? Vega called to London as he swung his blade, one-handedly, sending an arc of flames to consume as much of the ice as he could and then allowed what was left of it to harmlessly shatter against the metal plating of the ship.

I think I blew a gear, she said, embarrassed. It’s stuck in the meat of my arm.

How many times do people have to tell you you aren’t as good as you think? Maryann scolded as she scanned the ships and kept firing. Not that I’m doing any better … shoulder-hit, I’m doing horribly. And now I’m out of arrows.

Didn’t you upgrade recently? Titan asked, confused.

That I did … Suddenly the Catapults seemed to stop firing from the ship she had been aiming for. So that’s how long it takes for the springs to fire …

What? Vega now had time to stop and look at the archer.

I put springs that are delayed to fire after the head impacts something. They release spines which can shoot a short distance or simply extend the damage internally.

You are a twisted woman, Maryann. Titan laughed. But that’s why I asked you to the next Shipsmeet.

Gearmesher! Incoming! A voice came from behind them as a flash of movement crossed in between them all. A missile shaped like a large spear of ice was stopped mere feet from its ultimate destination of London’s chest. It found itself instead, impaled upon a rapier of the most overpolished steel you could imagine. Now is not the time to talk of romance or festivals, you ingrates! The missile seemed to almost vaporize as a handsome young man wearing a full set of platemail minus the helmet that allowed his wavy brunette hair to flip slightly in the wind. His hazel eyes seemed out of focus as they often seemed to be during battle. There was wrapping done above his left eye in a manner that suggested medical experience.

London stopped to make sure she wasn’t hit, and then she looked at who’d rescued her. Oh, William? She chuckled slightly, amused at the wrapping. Did I actually crack your skull with just one hit?

As I said, he spoke as most would expect a royal to