Steam -- WIP

Short introductory scene to a steampunk story in the works. Two main characters, as of yet nameless, catch a ride into the city of Freisch.

 

            The small building stood alone in the clearing. It was simple with its shingled roof held up by four thick wooden poles. The plank floor was worn and scuffed and gouged in places by weather and the few people who used the small, sparse platform. In front of the construct lay a train track, its huge metal rails resting on slabs of wood and stretching out into the forest, cutting an empty swath in front of it that lead far off into the distance. The tracks ended just past the station where there were a pair of huge metal stoppers padded with soft cork wood. Just beyond the stoppers was a huge metal and wood bullwheel that rotated slowly as it routed a thick wound cable that followed the track down out of the forest. It wrapped around the wheel tautly, and vanished back the way it came. Faded paint makers ticked by steadily as the line was pulled from its origin point. Another small trail wound through the trees at the opposite edge of the glade before it led to the station. Two people walked quickly up the path. Reaching the platform, the taller of the two proceeded to a small metal placard mounted on a wooden display post. The figure, covered from head to toe in dark colored clothing, reached a gloved hand out and ran it over the metal. After a moment, they turned and checked a clock, the only other object on the platform.

            “We’re early,” they announced in a dark voice that was obviously male. And it was the only thing that gave any hint to sex or figure or race. Wearing a cap pulled down low, a scarf around his face, loose jacket over his shirt, dark straight pants, and heavy boots, the only feature visible were a pair of dark, cobalt eyes.

            His partner turned briefly and nodded. Clearly a female, she was average height and a foot shorter than her companion. Creamy skinned with dark ochre eyes and short auburn hair, she had an intense look to her, helped along by the motions of her body. As she stood, her slender form tensed and relaxed in slow intervals, as if she was preparing to attack or flee at any moment. The man moved to stand next to her, seeming more relaxed despite his overabundance of clothing. The woman wore only a loose, open jacket over her pants and shirt, enough to ward off the slight chill in the air.

            “You look suspicious, they’re going to stop us,” she said quietly.

            “We’ll tell them I’m from the Southlands. Stop worrying so much, you’re going to go insane if you keep it up.”

            She gave a noncommittal grunt before leaning out slightly from the platform and looking down the tracks. In the distance the pair could hear the steady click-click-click of the approaching train as it was pulled toward them. It grew louder and louder until the cars appeared at the edge of the clearing. They slowed slightly, but continued to roll until they hit the stoppers with a low thud. There were only two carriages and they were empty. Simply built, they were open to the environment, their roofs held up by simply wood and metal poles. Low wooden benches ran along the inside walls of each, most etched with carvings of the bored or those who got a thrill from mild vandalism. The pair entered the forward car and sat opposite each other on the benches, though neither spoke nor even looked at the other.

            There were two other trains and stations that were used for this same journey, but the two had chosen the least popular of the three. The most used was serviced by a massive ten car train that was highly ornate and enclosed with expensive glass windows. That platform was consistently full of people, vendors, food stalls, entertainers, and dozens of other useless amenities that coaxed the coin from people’s pockets. Many first time visitors were drawn to that train because of the lavishness and fun of it, which only encouraged more over-the-top additions to the already crowded station. The third was more of a supply train than a passenger train, carrying equipment and the few supplies that were needed and couldn’t be obtained otherwise.

            After a few moments, the train lurched forward, pulled along on its heavy lead. It rolled through the forest, moving steadily past the trees. About as fast as a horse could canter, the trains were not the fastest means of transportation in the land, but were the only means to getting to where they were going.

            “I haven’t been to the city since the engines were installed,” the man commented, peering forward down the track, “How long does it take to get to Freisch?”

            The woman stared at him briefly, frowning at the sudden break in the silence. After a long moment she answered, “Two hours. It has only been fifteen minutes. I’m sure you can do the basic math required.”

            “It’s good to see you in such a good mood. Normally you’re a b***h,” the man said idly, “Two hours, hm? It used to take five when they used the alegarian to pull the trains.”

            “What the hell is an alegarian?” the woman asked, narrowing her eyes at the man.

            “They were beasts of burden that used to be bred around here. Massive things with lots of horns and claws,” the man told her before adding as an afterthought, “I think they stopped using them after that time they killed an entire trainload of people.”

            The other snorted her distaste before falling silent, leaving the man to watch out the front of the carriage again. The forest was thick on both sides of the track, threatening to overgrow it in some places. Their boughs entwined together overhead, hiding the sky and the remaining bit of sunlight from the setting sun. Underbrush rattled and moved as small animals darted deeper into the forest, scared by the steady clicking of the train wheels. A half an hour more of steady progress and the forest simply stopped. It did not thin or dwindle into small copses of young trees, but instead it simply ceased to grow. The edge was nearly a straight line and gave way to an empty field of thick grass and wild flowers that grew without any outside interference. Looking north, the man could barely make out the glint of the middle set of train tracks, the ones on which the biggest train ran. But it was to the east where the real sights were. A huge mountain erupted from the earth. Draz Peak, start of the Karal Ridge, was where Freisch had been built right up against the sheer cliffs of the jagged mount. Despite the distance, the city could be made out. Shining metal and glass caught the last light of the sun and glowed so brightly that even from the fifteen mile mark they could be seen. He narrowed his eyes slightly, trying to see farther before he sat back down.

            Instead of the city, he watched what looked like a small fence. It was the Outer Wall of the city. Made of stone and aurun metal, it was the outermost boundary of Freisch. As they rode closer, it grew until it nearly blotted out the mountain beyond it. Atop it were small short ranged cannons set onto the battlements every hundred yards. In the way of the track were huge solid metal doors that began to slide open as the train approached. Huge billows of steam rose up from the other side of the wall as the engines worked to open the way. The small train passed quickly through the thick wall, passing several machinists and guards on the opposite side. With a loud hiss, more steam escaped the machines as the doors were drawn shut behind them.

            “You’re acting like a child,” the woman said as they left the guards and Outer Wall behind, “Like you’ve never seen things like this before. It’s ridiculous.”

            “When I left, the steam engines were monstrous things that took up entire buildings and required so much wood that it was impossible for them to actually do anything,” he explained, turning in his seat to gaze at her, “Now this entire city is powered by them. It’s a big damn change.”

            “I don’t care. It’s as if you’re trying to act as suspiciously as possible.”

            The man eyed the woman a moment longer before turning to look out the front of the car. On either side, huge swaths of farmland rolled past. Fields were filled with livestock, vegetables, grains, and trees sagging with fruit. The majority of the people living within Freisch actually lived outside the Inner Wall, living in and working at huge farms that supplied the city almost everything it needed to survive. With the sunlight fading, the last of the chores were being done and the few stray animals were being found. The sparkle of candles and lanterns began appearing in the twilight that settled as the sun vanished finally. There were no lights in the carriage, but the man continued to stare out into the night. Very soon the land began to rise. At first it was gentle, but after half an hour, it became steeper and steeper. The farms around them, unable to properly plant at such an angle, had carved the hills into terraces. Another fifteen minutes and the pair were struggling to keep from sliding in their seats.

            Ahead of them was the Inner Wall. Even taller than the Outer, it looked impregnable. Thick blocks of stone were fastened together with the strongest metals in the world. On top of small towers were huge cannons and mortars, capable of firing shots out into the forest. The only entries were four sets of doors, three sets for the trains and a forth for the foot and cart traffic of the farmers. Thicker and stronger than the doors of the Outer Wall, there was the extra precaution of having not one set of doors within each archway but three with each having to be opened by the huge steam engines in the city. Again, as the train neared, steam rose from behind the wall with an audible hiss as the doors pulled open slowly. The carriages were pulled up the slow and into the city before they leveled horizontally in a new station. At the end of the station was another bullwheel which the cable wrapped around. It was positioned over a small round hole in the ground, the drive shaft vanishing into the darkness under the station. Just behind the wheel, a set of steam pipes thrust upward, issuing forth huge clouds of hot vapor that condensed in the air and then pooled in the street. The entire station shook slightly with the force of the engine just beneath it. Numerous lanterns and open fire pits were flooding the platform with brilliant light. All around the platform were a dozen guards, some armed with heavy glaives, others with swords, and a few with sets of pistols. All were dressed in light chain mail tunics over padded shirts, the metal links of the chain painted in deep crimson with few areas of silver showing for design.

            “Come on then, we don’t have all night,” one nearest to the train called. He wore a narrow silver sash across his chest that signified he was in charge.

            The pair exited the carriage and moved to stand before the guard captain. He looked the pair over briefly then back at the train.

            “No luggage? Nothing brought with you?” he asked with a raised brow.

            “I live here,” the woman answered, “And I do not normally bring luggage when I return home. My friend here had nothing to bring with him. He’s from the Southlands and with all the warring, he lost everything.”

            “Does he not speak?” the guard asked, turning his gaze to the tall man.

            “I do,” the man said, “What she said is correct and I find no need to discuss the terrible loss of it all any more than I have to.”

            The guard eyed him a moment before stepping closer. “Show me your face then, Southlander.”

            “But it is cold! How you can stand it is—”

            “Your scarf, Southlander. Now,” the guard said sternly, drawing one long pistol from the leather loop on his armor.

            “Yes, yes, I will then,” the man sighed.

            He tugged his scarf down around his neck to show his face to the guard. It was angular and thin and deeply tanned from a life in the south sun. Then guard looked him over a moment longer before replacing his gun.

            “My apologies but we cannot be too careful,” he said, shaking his head, “Go then.”

            The pair walked quickly from the platform and down the nearest street. There were fewer lights here and the two passed easily into the shadows and away from the guards.

            “That was too close. I said you looked suspicious and you were. We almost got caught,” the woman said angrily.

            “Calm down already,” the man said softly, “We got through fine. They thought I was what I said I was. And now I can get this damned makeup off. It feels like I’m wearing a mask.”

            He reached up and wiped at his cheek with one gloved finger. The dark complexion of his skin came away easily, revealing ashy white flesh beneath it. Before he could do more, the woman reached up and pulled his hand away from his face.

            “Not here! Wait until we’re inside,” she hissed, “And pull your scarf back up!”

            The man flashed wide smile at her, revealing his white teeth and, most noticeable, a pair of over long canine teeth. She simply glared at him until he wrapped the scarf back over his face until only his eyes were visible again. Satisfied, the woman led the strange man quickly down the street and deeper into the city.

Author's Note

Brief introductory scene to a new story. Its working title is called Steam, for mostly obvious reasons. This is my first excursion into the steampunk genre, but I've always wanted to give it a try. I'll be expanding on this story as soon as I get it a bit more planned out. But for now, please enjoy this and try to excuse the roughness of it. Feel free to comment about it though! I love hearing anything people have to say about my work, both good and bad. Good makes me feel better and bad lets me improve, so where can I go wrong?