It All Ends Here_A Steampunk Novella Series by Ed Zenith

Author:Ed Zenith [Zenith, Ed]
Language: eng
Format: epub
Publisher: Word Nerd Publishing
Published: 2017-09-17T22:00:00+00:00

10.

Ash felt like he was at the centre of an explosion. The noise was deafening; a cacophony of gears, wheels, gauges and pistons, all screaming for mercy. Frampton and Acton had been thrown to the back of the cab, as Ash had anticipated, but arose unharmed and struggled to return to their positions at the front of the cab. Ash had done well by bracing himself against the back wall, as he and Studley could have been thrown clear of the engine. He stood and glanced at the countryside flying past them. Acton and Frampton were hastily turning wheels and releasing levers. Ash looked to the speed gauge.

“Ninety-seven miles an hour!” he screamed and saw the toothless grin on Frampton’s face. Acton hugged the old man briefly and let him return to steering the train. They still had a fair way to go, but now at least they would reach the Heath brothers in time.

*****

The Horton sailed through the Peak District with no problems and they crossed the border into Yorkshire just under an hour later. Frampton began to curb her speed and soon they were near York itself. Acton climbed over the coal store and entered the carriage, so he could go over the plan with Cannings one last time.

He entered and found the carriage upside down and back to front. All the furniture had been tipped over and Acton eventually located Cannings underneath the chaise longue. The force of the acceleration had thrown the contents of the carriage around, but had not roused Cannings from his drug-induced slumber.

Acton found the laudanum-soaked glass next to him and shook his head. He had seen the addiction in others and had always suspected it was Cannings’s drink of choice. He found a nearby bottle of water and threw it in Cannings’s face.

“Up!” he yelled. He felt a stirring of pride. He was giving Bishop Cannings an order and not the other way around for the first time in his life. Cannings coughed and spluttered and eventually opened his eyes.

“Did I do that?” he said, surveying the chaos around him.

“We’re nearly in York. I want you up and ready. Let’s go through the plan again.”

Cannings sat up. He was barely able to move his great bulk without groaning. Acton looked him over. He was fat, bald, weak and sluggish. What had he ever feared in this man? He was a bully who delighted in torturing little boys. Acton was strong, both physically and mentally and had proved it time and time again. It was he who was in control now and both of them knew it.

“Your oh-so-brilliant plan runs thus,” said Cannings sarcastically. “You meet with the Heath brothers and exchange the crimson blade for your upper-class tart. When the exchange is done, you will give one pull of the engine’s whistle and I will come out with weapons blazing. Together we will take down the Heaths, five against two and I will claim my prize; the knife and belt and a wonderful retirement as Archbishop.

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