Salamander

Chapter Twenty Eight: Raiding the Castle

Chapter Twenty Eight

The city seemed busier than the day before, and it got to the point where we weren’t able to walk in the streets anymore due to the innumerable amount of horse-driven carriages and steam-powered cars. We entered the street on the northern side of the plaza, the same street that led to the science center, and began to walk. Just like before, people were either staring or purposely avoiding us.

            “Just ignore them,” Byron said.

            I looked at the enormous castle, the polished marble shining in the low-hanging sun. “How are you going to be able to request in audience with King Plarsky?” I asked. “Surely there are others who wish to do the same.”

            “Yes, I know.” We were now passing the science center, surrounded by large geysers that lifted high into the sky. We made a left at the next street, which was considerably wider than all the others. “We’ll have to play it by ear.”

            “He’s the king,” I said. “Someone like him probably isn’t used to ‘playing it by ear’.”

            We made another right and we found ourselves in a street that was even wider than the one before, so wide that six carriages lined up next to one another could fit. No buildings lined this street, and there were few people here. The only things at the side of this enormous street were bushes and small trees cut into squares and horses, the work of a master gardener. At the end of the street a large, golden gate with two guards standing at attention, swords held in their hands to scare trespassers away. The gate was the only opening in a large wall, bordered with a low-rising hedge and topped with guard towers at its corners. And above this wall I could see the castle, which, to my surprise, still seemed incredibly far away.

            “How are we going to get past those guards?” I hissed.

            “I came prepared, Alan.” Byron calmly walked down the street, and I had no choice but to follow, though I stayed five steps back in case the guards happened to come chasing after us.

            “Halt!” one of the guards said. They both pointed their swords towards us and took a squatting stance, ready to strike if necessary.

            Without warning, Byron retrieved a small, brass ball from his coat pocket and rolled it on the ground, settling right at the guard’s feet. At first, nothing happened, and both of the guards looked at one another with confused looked. But then I saw a tiny amount of steam emit from the ball, almost like it contained boiling tea that needed to be removed from the fireplace. The amount of steam it produced increased until a small cloud surrounded the ball.

            “Cover your ears,” Byron said. I did as he was told, for I had no idea what the ball was going to do next. I did as I was told and stuck my fingers in my ears as far as they could go, and after a couple moments, when the guards started making their way towards us, the ball exploded. Even with my ears plugged, I could hear the bone-rattling BOOM that rang throughout the street. I could also feel the vibration, almost like a tiny earthquake that had been created by that tiny, brass ball, though of course a small black mark on the cobblestone was all that remained.

            Immediately the guards’ eyes rolled back into their heads, their legs buckled and they fell to the ground, their limbs limp. It was almost as if they were dead. I uncovered my ears. “The bloody hell was that?” I asked Byron.

            “I invented it myself,” he said proudly. “It emits a small sonic wave and renders people unconscious.”

            I looked back at the connecting street and saw numerous civilians and horses on the ground, all affected by the sonic wave. “Those poor people.” I looked up and saw that the guards in the guard tower had slumped over the edge; some of them even fell over and were now face-down on the ground.

            “They’ll come to in an hour or so,” he said dismissively. He looked around uncomfortably, as if there was someone watching behind the neatly-kept trees. “We need to go,” he said hastily.

#

            Once we pushed open the gate we found ourselves in an enormous, circular garden, all surrounding a fountain in the center. At the other side was a small, wooden door that entered into the palace. “The servants use that door,” Byron said. “We can go through there without the conscious guards noticing.”

            We ran across the garden, ignoring the questioning gardeners and servants who hadn’t been affected by the sonic wave, probably due to the wall that surrounded the palace grounds. After passing rows upon rows of lilies and roses, we made it to the other side. Byron pushed open the door and put his finger to his lips, signaling for me to be quiet.

            Just then a gardener, probably in his mid-twenties, came up with a rake. His face was dirty and sweaty, along with his clothes. “Who are you?” he asked. He held the rake towards us like it was a sword.

            “Nobody.” Byron swiftly reached for another one of his coat pockets and retrieved a small tube. As the gardener held his rake behind him, ready to swing at our heads, the tube made a series of metallic clinking noises and formed into a large golf club. The gardener hesitated at the sight of such an impossible machine, and Byron used this as a chance to take a blow to the young adult’s head. He let out a gasp and fell to the ground, dropping the rake at his side.

            I looked at the golf club in Byron’s hand and then at his coat. “Is there anything you don’t have in that coat of yours?”

            The golf club folded in on itself and was one again a small tube, seamless and showing no signs of being a mechanical weapon. “No.” A couple of the servants and gardeners who had seen what had happened started running towards us, holding whatever tools they had in their hands high above their heads, indicating that those were the weapons they planned to attack us with. “We need to go.”

            We went through the wooden door and closed it shut behind us. “We can’t use only out body strength to keep them away,” I panted, suddenly feeling exhausted.

            “Do you honestly think I wasn’t prepared for something like this?” Byron said with a slight smile. He put the small tube back in his pocket and took out what appeared to be a silver lock. He placed it on the door and, to my surprise, latched on it like it was alive. Byron then took out a key from the same pocket and fastened it into the lock and turned it. He put the key back into his pocket just as the door began to rattle with the angry gardeners and servants. The door, however, wouldn’t budge.

            “It’s almost like magic,” I said.

            “Science is magic,” someone said from behind. We both jumped and looked over our shoulders to find a young girl, probably ten or so, standing at the end of the curved hallway. Beyond was another hall, only that one was lit with the flickering of candles or torches.

            “Excuse me?”  Byron said.

            “You’re here to see my father?” the young girl said.

            I knitted my brows. “Father? How old is King Plarsky?”

            She looked at me as if I was talking nonsense. “We should go before the guards notice.”

            I looked at Byron, wondering if we should trust her. Trust. The last time that I had trusted someone, Byron Marcellus, I ended up being stabbed in the back.

            “My grandfather spoke of an incredible scientist,” the girl said. “Byron Marcellus?”

            The old scientist looked incredibly surprised, but despite himself he nodded slowly.

            “You’re here to stop the Collector Regime?”

            He nodded again.

            The young girl smiled. “Then we need to hurry.”