Aetheric Elements: The Rise of a Steampunk Reality by Travis I. Sivart
“Our children are being slaughtered!” Grigor shouted in his rough baritone, as the gathering of villagers yelled and argued. The room quieted to a murmur, which allowed him to speak at a reasonable volume. His thick beard quivered as he said, “Three of our children have been killed, ripped apart and mauled by an unholy beast. We need to take action, not sit here, hiding like scared children.”
“I know this is horrible,” Jaroslav said, Grigor’s unofficial rival as leader of the community. “We all love and cherish our children. But the three that are missing wandered off when it was dark.” He scanned the room with his clear blue eyes and ran a hand through his trimmed beard, “It has been a lean harvest and the snows are coming. The beasts are on the hunt because they know this.”
The crowd muttered.
“No!” Grigor interrupted. “Marko was fourteen, practically a man, and had already joined the woodcutters and was betrothed to pretty Dariya,” A young blonde girl in braids hid her face in her hands and gave a shuddered sob as Grigor pointed at her. “Beasts would drag the body away. These were only partially eaten. Do I need to remind you? They were torn apart. Their stomachs torn out and only the tender organs eaten by the monster that did this! The trees around were painted with the blood of our children! And these children knew to not wander away. Why? Why did they go so far from their houses after dark?”
Jaroslav sighed. Always the more level headed of the two, he didn’t want panic and fear running through the village, or to scare the women with the details. “We can avoid anymore tragedies by staying inside after dark. There is nothing to fear if we keep our heads. This is nothing more than the work of a pack of hungry wild dogs; they know people and the children may have thought they were friendly animals.”
“I do not think so Jaroslav,” interrupted Grigor. “This is the work of a demon. Fedir told us what he saw. Do you need to hear it again? I think you do. Fedir, tell us again what you found at the stream.”
A large man stood slowly, towering over his friends. A matted fur cloak hung over his shoulders, a trophy from a wolf that had attacked him in his youth. He was not smart but he knew the woods better than most men. The day the children had gone missing he had led the team of woodcutters as they went the woods.
“This ain’t about the children, but three weeks ago,” Fedir said in his halting manner as he held up four fingers, “I went to the stream, to fill the skins, before we were to be coming back to the village. I saw the bones first. Lots of them. Then I saw the carcasses. I think they were deer. I think. Lots. Many.” He held up his hands, flashing his fingers, showing the count of fifteen. “They all were missing their bellies, and they were missing their throats too. And they were laid out, all neat like. The water was red with blood.” Looking down, the big man shuddered, not meeting the eyes of the other villagers. Women made the sign to ward off the evil eye as he continued. “I, I didn’t know what to do. I didn’t tell anyone. I didn’t know what to do.”
His brother, Oleksander, put a comforting hand on Fedir’s shoulder, always protective of his older, but slower, brother. A cold breeze whistled between the cracks of the wooden log walls of the inn and community hall, making the goat fat candles gutter. Thick, black smoke swirled and danced, and no one spoke for a moment.
A wiry youth named Luka leapt to his feet. “I say we slay the fiend!” The lad had been to the city once and thought he was worldly. Since returning he was always shouting about the next cause. “It doesn’t attack grown men, and together we can kill it! Lord Talon may even reward us for it. He rewards people who take initiative.” The crowd took up his cry to pursue what hunted villagers in the woods.
“Confound it, Luka,” a white haired man, Zenon the Elder, said with a wheeze. The room quieted to a murmur as the man rose onto his good leg using the table as support. He leaned on a wooden crutch, “The beast is a smart and tricky thing. It would not show itself. As for Lord Talon, you do not know everything. Perhaps he would not be so pleased if we decided to do as you suggest.”
The door banged open and cold air swirled through the room, causing the candlelight to dance. Petro, the night watchman, was silhouetted in the doorway, his eyes wild, hair tousled, and fur cap missing. “Something this way comes!” he said. “A horrible beast, as big as a wood shed. I saw its glowing eyes in the light of the moon. It will be upon us in moments!” He stumbled in and slammed the door behind him. Going to the cask, he grabbed a tankard, filled it with the dark frothy brew, and drank. All eyes turned to Zenon. The old man held up his hands to calm the crowd when a noise cut through the night.
A deep growl came from the distance, as if a great beast were on the prowl. The guttural noise was rhythmic and unnatural. The villagers could hear it coming closer as it climbed the hill which led to their homes. A high pitched whistling screamed, shaking the shutters and doors, and the tankards hanging on the wall clanked together. People crowded to the back of the hall, but Grigor and Jaroslav rushed to the window to see what approached. The sounds slowed. The ground shook with footfalls of the encroacher.
“I see it,” Jaroslav said so the others could hear, “it is as tall as a hut, with four legs, and its breath steams in the night.”
“Our doom has come then,” Grigor said. He turned to the wall, and took down the blunderbuss from above the cask of ale. Packing it with skill and speed, he readied the weapon with shot and steel, tamped down the cotton, and prepared to defend his people and family.
“Jiminy whiskers! Someone is coming out of the side of the monster. It looks like a woman!” Jaroslav said as he moved towards the door.
“The witch, Baba Yaga?” asked Hanna, the local midwife and gossip, “I heard she has been seen in the woods not far from a village to the south. She has a walking hut with legs of a chicken. She surrounds it with a fence made of human bones, and skulls top each of the posts, with always one missing so she can put her next victim on top of it! She lures children away and eats them.”
An unseen caller watched from the above, hidden in the shadows of the rafters. The dark presence loomed over the villagers and drank in their dread, the way a mortal man would drink wine. The being was intoxicated with the ambrosia of the murky fear of the people. It could feel their panic pulsing in the air. This was just one way it fed from these people. It had many reasons to tend a flock, even if it was a flock that belonged to another. For now.
A soft knock at the door stopped any further talk and the room went silent. All eyes turned to look as the door slowly creaked open; the biting cold whipped in and tore the cloak of warmth from the superstitious folk. The being above watched, as the tension rose. Three shadows stood in the door, silhouetted by the watch fires of the village square behind them. Two of the figures moved into the room, as the tallest turned to look outside before following.
They came into the light as the third of the three shut the door. The wear of travel showed on the newcomers as clear as the distrust showed on the faces of the residents of the hamlet. The first to enter was a woman with dark hair in a tight bun. Her dress was a proper blue walking dress, with buttons that went up to her throat and lace at the cuff of the sleeves. She carried a lace parasol and rings sparkled on her fingers. She was no mythical hag that peasants should fear.
The second was small man, hooded and dressed in a long cloak that covered a purplish gown underneath that resembled priestly garments. The last was a tall, wiry man with short, dark hair. A plain, curved sword was at his side, and a holstered pistol hung from the opposite hip. His outfit was more leather than cloth, and gleamed a reddish brown in the dim light. Grigor raised his gun.
“I did portend these travelers,” Evdokiya, the wise woman, said and glared around the room. She tossed a half dozen bones on the table from the wooden bowl in her hand. They clattered as the village waited for her soothsaying. “They will help us,” she continued as she pointed at the bones. “I see more than a beast hunting. I see that dark clouds have gathered, and evil is upon us.” Cries of distress and panicked
discussion rose from the crowd. “Shush, you squawking geese! The watch fires are lit, and the gods watch over us. The danger may not take us if we offer the sacrifice they want.” The room quieted.
“Pray, I am Elizabeth,” the woman with the strangers said. “We mean no ill, nor fright. My companions are Suykimo and Zachary. We seek a place to rest for the night. We have traveled far.”
“What is that armored, screaming beast outside?” Grigor asked, his weapon still held at the ready.
“It is no beast, good sir, tis a machine. Like a steam locomotive, but using legs and roads instead of wheels and rails. It makes for a noisy and bumpy ride, but it is as adequate as a horse and carriage. It eats wood and makes steam, rather than eating oats and producing fertilizer.”
“It growls and shrieks like a monster though!”
“It is a machine, and that is the sound of its engine and the steam being released, just as a train does.”
“Grigor,” Zenon said, “pray, lower the gun. Evdokiya said they are here to help. This is her realm. Do I make myself clear?”
The man lowered the gun. The trio of travelers exchanged worried glances. Suykimo looked up, staring into the rafters, his hood falling away from his face to reveal slanted eyes.
Grigor’s gun rose again to point at him. “He is a demon. See his eyes?”
“No,” Zachary spoke with the crisp tone of authority, “he is foreign born, from faraway lands, and no more a threat to you than anything else in this room.”
“Something watches from above. No one ever looks up,” Suykimo said in a quiet voice. An icy wind cut through the room, and the candles flickered then brightened. “It’s gone now.” The villagers looked around, and many made a sign to ward off the evil eye.
Evdokiya spoke again. “They are not demons, and they are flesh and blood like us. Quite so, they hunt demons, even now I can feel that evil has fled upon their entry. Come, sit with us, you are welcome here.”
Elizabeth smiled at the people, a gentle and reassuring smile, as she sat with the wise woman. “We shall help you.”
“I know this is horrible,” Jaroslav said, Grigor’s unofficial rival as leader of the community. “We all love and cherish our children. But the three that are missing wandered off when it was dark.” He scanned the room with his clear blue eyes and ran a hand through his trimmed beard, “It has been a lean harvest and the snows are coming. The beasts are on the hunt because they know this.”
The crowd muttered.
“No!” Grigor interrupted. “Marko was fourteen, practically a man, and had already joined the woodcutters and was betrothed to pretty Dariya,” A young blonde girl in braids hid her face in her hands and gave a shuddered sob as Grigor pointed at her. “Beasts would drag the body away. These were only partially eaten. Do I need to remind you? They were torn apart. Their stomachs torn out and only the tender organs eaten by the monster that did this! The trees around were painted with the blood of our children! And these children knew to not wander away. Why? Why did they go so far from their houses after dark?”
Jaroslav sighed. Always the more level headed of the two, he didn’t want panic and fear running through the village, or to scare the women with the details. “We can avoid anymore tragedies by staying inside after dark. There is nothing to fear if we keep our heads. This is nothing more than the work of a pack of hungry wild dogs; they know people and the children may have thought they were friendly animals.”
“I do not think so Jaroslav,” interrupted Grigor. “This is the work of a demon. Fedir told us what he saw. Do you need to hear it again? I think you do. Fedir, tell us again what you found at the stream.”
A large man stood slowly, towering over his friends. A matted fur cloak hung over his shoulders, a trophy from a wolf that had attacked him in his youth. He was not smart but he knew the woods better than most men. The day the children had gone missing he had led the team of woodcutters as they went the woods.
“This ain’t about the children, but three weeks ago,” Fedir said in his halting manner as he held up four fingers, “I went to the stream, to fill the skins, before we were to be coming back to the village. I saw the bones first. Lots of them. Then I saw the carcasses. I think they were deer. I think. Lots. Many.” He held up his hands, flashing his fingers, showing the count of fifteen. “They all were missing their bellies, and they were missing their throats too. And they were laid out, all neat like. The water was red with blood.” Looking down, the big man shuddered, not meeting the eyes of the other villagers. Women made the sign to ward off the evil eye as he continued. “I, I didn’t know what to do. I didn’t tell anyone. I didn’t know what to do.”
His brother, Oleksander, put a comforting hand on Fedir’s shoulder, always protective of his older, but slower, brother. A cold breeze whistled between the cracks of the wooden log walls of the inn and community hall, making the goat fat candles gutter. Thick, black smoke swirled and danced, and no one spoke for a moment.
A wiry youth named Luka leapt to his feet. “I say we slay the fiend!” The lad had been to the city once and thought he was worldly. Since returning he was always shouting about the next cause. “It doesn’t attack grown men, and together we can kill it! Lord Talon may even reward us for it. He rewards people who take initiative.” The crowd took up his cry to pursue what hunted villagers in the woods.
“Confound it, Luka,” a white haired man, Zenon the Elder, said with a wheeze. The room quieted to a murmur as the man rose onto his good leg using the table as support. He leaned on a wooden crutch, “The beast is a smart and tricky thing. It would not show itself. As for Lord Talon, you do not know everything. Perhaps he would not be so pleased if we decided to do as you suggest.”
The door banged open and cold air swirled through the room, causing the candlelight to dance. Petro, the night watchman, was silhouetted in the doorway, his eyes wild, hair tousled, and fur cap missing. “Something this way comes!” he said. “A horrible beast, as big as a wood shed. I saw its glowing eyes in the light of the moon. It will be upon us in moments!” He stumbled in and slammed the door behind him. Going to the cask, he grabbed a tankard, filled it with the dark frothy brew, and drank. All eyes turned to Zenon. The old man held up his hands to calm the crowd when a noise cut through the night.
A deep growl came from the distance, as if a great beast were on the prowl. The guttural noise was rhythmic and unnatural. The villagers could hear it coming closer as it climbed the hill which led to their homes. A high pitched whistling screamed, shaking the shutters and doors, and the tankards hanging on the wall clanked together. People crowded to the back of the hall, but Grigor and Jaroslav rushed to the window to see what approached. The sounds slowed. The ground shook with footfalls of the encroacher.
“I see it,” Jaroslav said so the others could hear, “it is as tall as a hut, with four legs, and its breath steams in the night.”
“Our doom has come then,” Grigor said. He turned to the wall, and took down the blunderbuss from above the cask of ale. Packing it with skill and speed, he readied the weapon with shot and steel, tamped down the cotton, and prepared to defend his people and family.
“Jiminy whiskers! Someone is coming out of the side of the monster. It looks like a woman!” Jaroslav said as he moved towards the door.
“The witch, Baba Yaga?” asked Hanna, the local midwife and gossip, “I heard she has been seen in the woods not far from a village to the south. She has a walking hut with legs of a chicken. She surrounds it with a fence made of human bones, and skulls top each of the posts, with always one missing so she can put her next victim on top of it! She lures children away and eats them.”
An unseen caller watched from the above, hidden in the shadows of the rafters. The dark presence loomed over the villagers and drank in their dread, the way a mortal man would drink wine. The being was intoxicated with the ambrosia of the murky fear of the people. It could feel their panic pulsing in the air. This was just one way it fed from these people. It had many reasons to tend a flock, even if it was a flock that belonged to another. For now.
A soft knock at the door stopped any further talk and the room went silent. All eyes turned to look as the door slowly creaked open; the biting cold whipped in and tore the cloak of warmth from the superstitious folk. The being above watched, as the tension rose. Three shadows stood in the door, silhouetted by the watch fires of the village square behind them. Two of the figures moved into the room, as the tallest turned to look outside before following.
They came into the light as the third of the three shut the door. The wear of travel showed on the newcomers as clear as the distrust showed on the faces of the residents of the hamlet. The first to enter was a woman with dark hair in a tight bun. Her dress was a proper blue walking dress, with buttons that went up to her throat and lace at the cuff of the sleeves. She carried a lace parasol and rings sparkled on her fingers. She was no mythical hag that peasants should fear.
The second was small man, hooded and dressed in a long cloak that covered a purplish gown underneath that resembled priestly garments. The last was a tall, wiry man with short, dark hair. A plain, curved sword was at his side, and a holstered pistol hung from the opposite hip. His outfit was more leather than cloth, and gleamed a reddish brown in the dim light. Grigor raised his gun.
“I did portend these travelers,” Evdokiya, the wise woman, said and glared around the room. She tossed a half dozen bones on the table from the wooden bowl in her hand. They clattered as the village waited for her soothsaying. “They will help us,” she continued as she pointed at the bones. “I see more than a beast hunting. I see that dark clouds have gathered, and evil is upon us.” Cries of distress and panicked
“Pray, I am Elizabeth,” the woman with the strangers said. “We mean no ill, nor fright. My companions are Suykimo and Zachary. We seek a place to rest for the night. We have traveled far.”
“What is that armored, screaming beast outside?” Grigor asked, his weapon still held at the ready.
“It is no beast, good sir, tis a machine. Like a steam locomotive, but using legs and roads instead of wheels and rails. It makes for a noisy and bumpy ride, but it is as adequate as a horse and carriage. It eats wood and makes steam, rather than eating oats and producing fertilizer.”
“It growls and shrieks like a monster though!”
“It is a machine, and that is the sound of its engine and the steam being released, just as a train does.”
“Grigor,” Zenon said, “pray, lower the gun. Evdokiya said they are here to help. This is her realm. Do I make myself clear?”
The man lowered the gun. The trio of travelers exchanged worried glances. Suykimo looked up, staring into the rafters, his hood falling away from his face to reveal slanted eyes.
Grigor’s gun rose again to point at him. “He is a demon. See his eyes?”
“No,” Zachary spoke with the crisp tone of authority, “he is foreign born, from faraway lands, and no more a threat to you than anything else in this room.”
“Something watches from above. No one ever looks up,” Suykimo said in a quiet voice. An icy wind cut through the room, and the candles flickered then brightened. “It’s gone now.” The villagers looked around, and many made a sign to ward off the evil eye.
Evdokiya spoke again. “They are not demons, and they are flesh and blood like us. Quite so, they hunt demons, even now I can feel that evil has fled upon their entry. Come, sit with us, you are welcome here.”
Elizabeth smiled at the people, a gentle and reassuring smile, as she sat with the wise woman. “We shall help you.”