Eternity Engine Read online

  Contents

  Map

  Denizens of the Drowned World

  1: The Last City

  2: The Spirit Realm

  3: The Unsunken Empire

  4: Protectors of the City

  5: The High Inquisitor

  6: Ellie’s New Invention

  7: Ellie and Ellie

  8: The Ultimate Mission

  9: The Eternity Engine

  10: The Infinite Asylum

  11: The Birthday Party

  12: Into the Ocean of the Sea God

  13: Saviour and Destroyer

  14: The Power of Suffering

  15: The Battle of the Workshop

  16: The Lancaster Wall

  17: Molworth the Mole

  18: A Demonstration

  19: Experiments with Metal

  20: The City’s Welcome

  21: The God of Life

  22: Even the Innocent

  23: Kate

  24: The Reunion

  25: The Orphanage Garden

  26: The Inquisition

  27: When the World Was New

  28: Let Go

  29: Into the Machine

  30: The Shadow in the Workshop

  31: The Bonfire

  32: Her Greatest Invention

  33: A Long Overdue Reward

  34: The New Beyond

  Acknowledgements

  About the Author

  Struan Murray (Author)

  Struan Murray is Scottish and grew up in Edinburgh, the youngest of a large, rowdy family of redheads. His first publication was a drawing in Pingu Magazine, aged seven, but his debut novel, Orphans of the Tide has attracted rather more critical acclaim. When he's not writing, Struan is a lecturer at the University of Oxford.

  Manuel Sumberac (Illustrator)

  Manuel Šumberac was born in 1988 in Pula, Croatia. He obtained a Masters in Animation and New Media from the Academy of Fine Arts in Zagreb. He is a member of Filmmakers Association of Croatia. Manuel works in the fields of animation and illustration to produce animated films, music videos, children's books and book covers. He has received numerous awards for his work.

  For Anbara

  Denizens of the Drowned World

  From the Last City of Humankind:

  Eleanor ‘Ellie’ Lancaster, inventor and forty-sixth Vessel to the Enemy.

  Anna Stonewall, self-appointed leader of the Orphanage Street orphans.

  James Castion, former Inquisitor and retired whale lord.

  Killian Hargrath, renowned Inquisitor and future saint.

  Anthony Vanahaugh, High Inquisitor, leader of the Inquisition and the City Council.

  Nathaniel Archer, elected leader of the Guild of Whale Lords.

  Finn Lancaster, brother of Ellie (deceased).

  Hannah Lancaster, famed inventor and mother to Ellie and Finn (deceased).

  Altimus Ashenholme, scholar and inventor, mentor to Hannah Lancaster, father of Kate (presumed deceased).

  Claude Hestermeyer, scholar and forty-fifth Vessel to the Enemy (deceased).

  Peter Lambeth, scholar (deceased).

  Lily Fry, best friend of Ibnet.

  Benjamin Ibnet, best friend of Fry.

  From Shipwreck Island:

  Kate, twenty-first ruler of Shipwreck Island and presumed Vessel to the God of Life.

  The Seven Sentinels, silent sworn protectors of the Queen.

  Anitha Hassar, general of the Queen’s army.

  Loren Alexander, disgraced nobleman.

  Leila, whale rider and first ruler of Shipwreck Island (deceased).

  Thea, twentieth ruler of Shipwreck Island and mother of Kate (deceased).

  Viola Altdor, sailor and revolutionary.

  Oscar Molworth, innkeeper of the Royal ‘Vile’ Oak inn, lover of oranges, self-proclaimed master of everything.

  The Gods:

  The God of the Sea, currently manifesting as a boy called Seth.

  The God of Life, also known as the God-Bird. Assumed to be residing in Kate, actual whereabouts unclear.

  The Great Enemy of Humankind, also known as ‘the God Who Drowned the Gods’ and ‘the Abomination’. Currently residing in Ellie Lancaster.

  The Last City

  The orphans were wading across the rooftops, the ocean up past their ankles, when a whale burst from the sea.

  ‘Ooh,’ they sighed, as it rolled over in mid-air, shedding a blanket of seawater, then crashed into the waves with the clap of a gunshot.

  ‘It got me!’ Ibnet shrieked with delight, drenched from head to toe. ‘Anna, look, it got me! Isn’t that supposed to be good luck?’

  ‘It’s bad luck, idiot,’ said Fry, punching his arm. ‘You’ll be dead within the year.’

  ‘It got you too,’ said Ibnet. ‘And it’s not bad luck, is it, Anna?’

  Anna crouched at the edge of the rooftop, inspecting the vast ring of foam left by the whale. The other orphans crowded round her, clutching their sacks of trinkets. Children came to the Flats to forage among the ocean’s offerings: debris washed on to the rooftops at high tide. They dreamed of uncovering relics from before the world had drowned – swords and crowns and chests of rubies. Mostly they found oyster shells and fish heads, and shards of crockery that they later claimed were bits of human skull.

  The water rippled and a dark mound of welts and barnacles emerged, then sprayed a jet of water high into the air. Anna swallowed. The last time she’d seen a humpback whale, her life had changed forever. She held her breath, wondering if it was a sign.

  ‘Anna,’ Ibnet whined.

  ‘It’s good luck, Ibnet!’ Anna snapped, turning to the orphans. ‘Ian, stop scratching at that rash. Edward, I told you before – don’t put those in your mouth.’ She did a quick headcount. ‘Where’s Fry?’

  ‘Here,’ said Fry, studying a second group of children further along the rooftops, who were throwing them evil looks. ‘Why are they watching us when there’s a whale right there?’

  ‘Just ignore them,’ said Anna.

  ‘Orphans!’ The cry was hurled like a clod of dirt. ‘Did you call that whale here? Is the Enemy gonna climb out of it again?’

  A tall, handsome boy stalked towards Anna, the other children splashing after him, wrinkling their noses as they eyed the orphans, like they might be infectious.

  ‘Orphans aren’t allowed on the Flats,’ said the boy. ‘They don’t deserve treasure.’

  Anna sloshed through the silty water to meet him head-on, glaring from between two muddy lengths of wet ginger hair. She felt no anger, or fear. She had faced far worse.

  ‘You had the Vessel living with you,’ said the boy. ‘Ellie Lancaster.’ The children behind him shivered at the name. ‘I bet you’re still keeping her hidden, aren’t you? Her and the God Who Drowned the Gods.’

  Anna held his gaze for five seconds. The boy blinked.

  ‘Ellie Lancaster is dead,’ said Anna. It hurt to say the words. She was the only person in the City who knew they weren’t true, but still, it was unlikely she would ever see her best friend again.

  The boy shrugged. ‘The Enemy’s not, though. What if it’s living in one of you now? I bet it feels right at home in a horrid, smelly orphan.’

  ‘It takes the Enemy ten years or more to return after its Vessel dies,’ said Fry, but the tall boy ignored her. He pointed at Ibnet, who was nervously scratching his nose.

  ‘That one’s got a funny look about him. I think we should give him to the Inquisitors, just to be sure.’

  Anna sprang forward, kicking the boy’s leg out from under him, roaring as she flung him down into the muddy water. She grabbed his arm and twisted it behind his back, and he squealed as Anna glared round at the other children, daring them to come near. ‘If any of you
lay a finger on my orphans,’ she told them, ‘you’ll wish the Enemy had got to you instead of me.’

  They backed away, huddling together in fear. Anna released the boy and he scurried off, cradling his arm.

  ‘Um … are you okay, Anna?’ Fry asked.

  ‘I’m fine,’ Anna snapped, breathing heavily. ‘Alice, your shoelace is undone. Kieran, watch you don’t fall in that gap.’

  ‘Are you sure you’re all right?’ said Ibnet, peering into Anna’s eyes. ‘You almost ripped that boy’s arm off. He wasn’t actually going to hurt us.’

  ‘I’m not taking that chance. Did you remember to rub that Ointment of Eliza on your –’

  ‘Yes, Anna,’ Ibnet said, rolling his eyes. ‘Every morning, like the doctor said. I’m not stupid.’

  He and Fry shared a weary look.

  ‘What?’ said Anna flatly. ‘What does that look mean?’

  ‘You never used to be like this,’ said Fry. ‘Worried about us all the time.’

  ‘It’s really annoying,’ said Ibnet.

  ‘And you’re not looking after yourself, either,’ said Fry, lifting a wet lock off Anna’s forehead. ‘This is the first time your hair’s been washed in weeks.’

  Anna just stared out to sea, aware of Fry and Ibnet watching her. The silence was broken by a rush of water and the throaty singing of sailors as a mighty whaling ship pulled along the Revival Waterfront, sails fluttering. A broad man stood at the wheel, smiling at the children with a large set of emerald-studded teeth. He had a necklace of pearls round his neck, and perched on his head was a stuffed octopus, tied beneath his chin by two of its tentacles.

  ‘That’s Lord Russ!’ cried Ibnet.

  ‘Don’t be stupid – it’s Lord Abermoth,’ said Fry.

  The ship drew near the Flats, and Lord Abermoth tossed a handful of coins to the orphans, who squealed and splashed through the water to grab them.

  ‘Wait, he’s not going to kill that whale, is he?’ said Ibnet, wrestling Fry over a coin.

  ‘Of course he is,’ said Fry, her arm locked round Ibnet’s neck. ‘He’s a whale lord.’

  ‘But … it’s beautiful?’

  ‘It’s food.’

  Anna recognized some of the younger sailors clambering the rigging, including Dimitri. When she was eleven, Anna had given him a daisy, plucked fresh from the orphanage garden, along with five poems she’d written. The poems had somehow found their way back to the orphanage, and for weeks the other orphans had sung the verses back to her in squeaky falsettos, until she’d stolen the dice from all the board games in the games room, ransoming them back in exchange for their sworn silence.

  ‘You still owe me that arm-wrestle!’ Anna yelled at Dimitri, running to keep up with the ship. ‘If you win, I’ll give you a fresh trout. I’m really good at gutting them now.’

  ‘I’ve got bigger fish to catch!’ Dimitri yelled back.

  ‘Whales aren’t fish, idiot.’

  ‘Figure of speech, idiot,’ said Dimitri, with a smile. He reached into his pocket and threw a red apple down to her. Anna caught it in one hand, hurriedly picking mud from her hair with the other.

  ‘Oh, I see,’ said Fry, raising an eyebrow. ‘Now you care about your appearance.’

  ‘Shut up,’ said Anna, as she did another headcount. ‘Twelve,’ she said, her chest tightening. ‘Where’s Ibnet?’

  He was standing in the shadow of St Edmund’s Causeway – a stretch of buildings overhead – staring up at a tall figure in a dark coat. ‘Ibnet!’ Anna cried, sloshing through the water. ‘Get away from him!’

  She grabbed Ibnet and pulled him roughly behind her back.

  ‘I wasn’t doing anything!’ he complained. ‘You’re hurting my arm!’

  A large, sad-eyed man was shuffling down the steps from the causeway, leaning heavily on a cane made from a narwhal tusk. He had dark brown skin, a patchy greying beard, and was staring at the ground. His once-red coat had faded, and lost most of its buttons along the way.

  ‘Go,’ Anna told Ibnet, nudging him towards the others. She glared up at the man. ‘If you take one more step, I’m gonna shove that narwhal tusk right up –’

  ‘I only want to talk,’ Castion wheezed, massaging his throat as if he’d forgotten how to speak.

  ‘I don’t care what you want,’ said Anna. ‘You tried to kill Ellie.’

  ‘She was the Vessel,’ said Castion, with a strained grimace.

  Anna clenched her fists. ‘So? You made the Enemy get strong inside her. You’re the reason she’s gone.’

  ‘I thought I was doing the right thing.’

  ‘The right thing?’ Anna yelled. ‘You made everything worse. Three years she had the Enemy under control. She was doing fine! Then you and the Inquisition started chasing her, forcing her to ask for its help. That’s what happened to Claude Hestermeyer too, which you’d know if you’d bothered to read his diary.’

  ‘I have read it,’ said Castion. ‘I don’t have much else to do these days besides read. And you’re right. I did make things worse.’

  Anna blinked. She hadn’t expected this. ‘Um, well … yeah, you did.’ She paused. ‘Idiot.’

  ‘She was my best friend’s daughter, and I loved her like my own child. Hestermeyer was like a brother to me. They’re both dead now, and it’s my fault.’

  Anna rolled her eyes. ‘If you’re trying to make me feel sorry for you, it’s not going to work.’

  She glanced over her shoulder to check on the orphans. There was a rattle of metal as Castion took three unsteady steps down the stairway on a leg and foot made of corroded brass. He held his cane out to Anna.

  ‘What’s that for?’

  ‘You said if I took another step you would put this … Well, I’m sure your description was going to be very colourful. Here you are.’

  ‘Don’t try to be funny. It doesn’t suit you.’ Anna sniffed. ‘You smell like wet dog and whisky. Have you lost all your money?’

  Castion shrugged. ‘No, I’m very rich. I sold my ships, my warehouses, my whole whaling business. That’s what I wanted to talk to you about. I’d like to make a donation to the orphanage.’

  Anna crossed her arms. ‘You think that’s going to help with your guilt, do you? After what you did?’

  ‘Please –’ Castion began.

  ‘No! You don’t get to feel better. You should feel bad.’

  ‘So you don’t want my donation?’

  ‘Obviously I do. But I don’t want you to feel any better because of it.’ She shot another glance at the orphans.

  ‘Is something the matter?’

  ‘What are you talking about?’ snapped Anna.

  ‘You keep looking back at the others.’

  ‘Someone has to take care of them.’

  Castion frowned. ‘They seem to be managing fine.’

  ‘Now they are. But the world is full of horrible men like you. I need to watch the orphans all the time, so I don’t miss anything.’

  Castion studied her awhile.

  ‘Stop looking at me like that,’ said Anna. ‘What are you talking to me for, anyway? Matron Stileman runs the orphanage. Give her the donation.’

  Castion nodded, opened his mouth to speak, then closed it. He attempted a bow, but had to steady himself with his cane. ‘Good day, Ms Stonewall.’

  He hobbled back up the steps and, despite herself, Anna felt a pang of pity. A year ago, he’d been a dashing, daring whale lord, the most beloved person in the City. Now he looked like an old man.

  But that doesn’t change what he did to Ellie, Anna thought, thrusting her pity aside.

  Behind her, she heard one of the orphans cry out. She spun round, her heart thudding. Ibnet was pointing out to sea.

  No, he was pointing at the sea.

  It was roiling and swirling like in a storm, though the skies were calm. Shoals of fish darted and scattered in fright. Waves battered fiercely against the waterfront, and the orphans clutched each other in terror.

  ‘All right, you
lot!’ Anna bellowed, fighting to keep the fear from her voice. ‘Out of the water now!’

  They obeyed instantly, abandoning their bundles of trinkets and splashing across the Flats. Anna rushed to help them, grabbing Milo, the smallest orphan, and swinging him on to her back. By the time they’d reached the street she’d done three more headcounts.

  She turned round, and her breath caught in her throat.

  The rooftops of the Flats were no longer covered in water, and neither were the smashed windows and mossy brickwork of the buildings beneath. The tide was lower than Anna had ever seen it, and was lowering further.

  ‘What’s happening?’ said Ibnet.

  It was as if someone had pulled a plug at the bottom of the ocean: the sea was draining away, buildings bursting forth from the waves, churches and clocktowers entangled with seaweed and encrusted with oysters, tasting air for the first time in seven centuries.

  The children covered their ears as a sharp spire punched up through the hull of Lord Abermoth’s ship, bursting out of the top deck and into the rigging. For a moment, the ship was held aloft, skewered like a crab on a fishing spear. Sailors grabbed ropes and hurled themselves overboard; only there was no longer a sea to jump into, and they landed heavily on newly exposed rooftops, groaning and crying out for help. Anna gasped as she saw Dimitri leap from the deck, seizing hold of a weathervane. Lord Abermoth clung to the spire itself, his octopus hat falling down over his eyes as his ship splintered against the cobbled streets below.

  ‘The sea,’ Fry whispered. ‘The sea is gone.’

  ‘It’s not gone,’ said Ibnet. ‘Look, it’s out there.’ He pointed east to where a massive wall of churning water was still retreating, carrying with it the humpback whale.

  Anna glanced down, but her legs wobbled and she stepped back from the edge. Without the sea, she was suddenly standing on top of a mountain. The City was now ten times as tall as it had been before, a labyrinth of muddy streets and broken rooftops carpeted with seashells. It might have been even taller: swirling mists made it impossible to see where the City ended and the seabed began.