Engn

V

VFinn started awake with a gasp. The engine had shuddered to a halt with a great sigh of steam, hurling him forwards. He waddled on skinned, stinging knees to press his eye to one of the square holes in the side of the machine.

He could see a square of hedgerow atop a stone wall. There were voices, muffled by the iron walls and the roar of the furnace. Somewhere up ahead, out of sight, the master was arguing with someone. It couldn't be one of the ironclads; they never disagreed. Someone they had met in the lane.

Finn turned his ear to the hole. The master shouted, dismissive, angered. Another voice, a man's, wheedled and complained in response. Finn tried another of the tiny holes, nearer the front of the engine. Glimpsed between the jostling bulk of the horses, he could see a beggar standing in the road, a gaunt face peering from a bundle of tattered rags. The beggar held his hand out, palm upwards, pleading. The master put something into his hand and turned away, shouting to the ironclads to move on.

The jolt sent Finn sprawling onto the floor again. He turned to look out to the side as they jerked forwards. The beggar sat by the road, cradling the coins as if they were something delicate. He looked up as the engine ground past. The grimy face was immediately familiar. Matt: thinner and dirtier, but unmistakable. The lengthsman waved as they trundled past, even though he certainly couldn't see Finn. A look of delight lit up his filthy face.

Finn scrambled to the back of the engine to watch Matt as he disappeared from view.

They stopped when it was nearly dark. They had ridden through more rain, hours of it. The master, when he hauled open the engine door, stood dripping and bedraggled. The rain plastered his hair to his head. His sodden purple robes weighed him down.

“All right for you in there, isn't it, boy, all dry and warm. Any more of this and I'll be swapping places.” He gazed up into the leaden sky, water running off his cheeks, as Finn clambered out, still chained to the machine. The ironclads stood some distance away, removing the saddles from their horses. They were too far away to overhear.

“Ah, how I hate the outdoors,” said the master in a quieter voice. “Give me the comforts of Engn any day. If I could spend the rest of my time there rather than wasting my life rounding up strays like you, I'd be happy.”

“Then why don't you?” asked Finn. “You're a master. You can do what you want.”

The master looked at him. His name, Finn knew from the ironclads, was Whelm.

“You don't know a thing, do you?” Master Whelm said. “The Iron Wheel doesn't work like that.”

“The Iron Wheel?”

“The masters that control Engn. Don't you know anything? I'm Seventh Wheel and that means I have to do whatever the Sixth tells me.” He held up his hand to indicate a single iron ring adorning his index finger.

“Sixth Wheel masters wear two rings. They in turn obey the Fifth, who have three rings. That's the way it works. Masters of the First Wheel have seven rings and they obey only those in the Inner Wheel.”

Finn knew none of this. But he needed to find out all he could about the workings of Engn. If he couldn't manage to escape before they got there, any piece of information could prove to be useful.

“So, the eight wheels together are called The Iron Wheel?”

“That's what I just said, isn't it?”

“And the Inner Wheel wear eight rings?”

“Of course they don't, i***t! They don't need rings. They do as they please.”

“So how do you become one of them?”

The master shook his head, staring out through the drizzle as if he could see something out there.

He shrugged. “It takes years. Most people are old by the time they make it. If they ever do.”

“But the ironclads, all of us, we do as you say.”

“It's all different in Engn.”

The master looked young then, little more than a sullen, dishevelled boy. His sopping cloak hung off his shoulders.

“Then why do you want to get there so much?” asked Finn.

“Because I just do!” The master was angry now. “Enough of this, boy. Leave me in peace.”

He stamped off to shout at the ironclads. Finn sat down, his back to one of the wheels of the engine. He studied the iron ring around his ankle one again, but it was no use. He could never hope to c***k or bend the metal, or to slip his foot free. An ironclad came over and handed him a bowl of lukewarm stew and a flask of water. Finn ate and drank, watching Master Whelm, who sat alone, gazing at the road ahead. When he'd finished, another of the ironclads – Finn could easily tell them apart now – came over, unshackled the chain from the engine, and led Finn into the woods so he could relieve himself.

Back at the engine, the chain once more secured, Finn lay down and tried to sleep, slipping in and out of dreams as he tried to get comfortable on the hard ground.

“Are you working for them?” asked the girl, keeping the knife pointed at their faces. “Did they send you after me?” Her gaze darted between them.

“You mean the ironclads?” asked Connor. “Of course not. Are you a wrecker?”

The girl looked confused. “Me? No. I've never been anywhere near Engn.”

Finn lowered his knife. She didn't look dangerous. She looked starving if anything. Starving and exhausted. Green and black smudges covered her face, as if she had attempted to camouflage herself. Her eyes were wary, like those of a panicky horse. A bush of tangled hair straggled out from her head. Dried blood from an old cut stained her cheek. She was maybe a year older than Connor.

Finn and Connor lowered their knives.

“Why are they chasing you?” asked Finn.

The girl shrugged.

“How long have you been out here?” asked Connor.

“Eighteen days now. Maybe nineteen. I've lost count.”

“Here.” Finn fished the pasty out of his backpack and broke off a lump. The girl looked wary but her hunger was too great. She grabbed the food and began to stuff it into her mouth. She sat down on the log, no longer watching them. It was the same log, Finn was sure, that he and Shireen had shared all that time ago.

Finn and Connor perched next to her, one on each side. Finn broke the rest of the pasty into three and handed it round. Connor had bread and a hunk of beef that he hacked into three with his knife. Finn passed around the water.

“So, what did you do to them?” asked Connor. “It must have been something incredible.”

“Didn't do anything,” the girl mumbled through a mouthful of food.

“But there were loads of them hunting you,” said Finn. “Dogs too. And they had an engine with them. We saw it. A machine on wheels that moved by itself.”

“What? You've seen the ironclads?” The girl stopped chewing. His eyes were wide with shock again. “They're here?” She glanced past them at the wall of trees, expecting her pursuers to burst out at any moment.

“They passed by yesterday, heading up the valley,” said Finn. “But they must have lost your trail.”

“They know I'm here somewhere,” the girl said. “There are only two ways out of the valley.” She looked down at the ground. “I don't know what I'm going to do. They'll find me sooner or later. They never give up, never.”

There were tears in her eyes. She had already been crying, Finn could see, smudges running down the grime on her cheeks.

“We'll help you,” said Connor. “We can bring you food. And keep an eye out for the ironclads. We know these woods better than anyone. We can watch the tracks and not be seen.” He looked thoughtful for a moment. “Hey, I know, there's an old barn in the high meadow on our farm. The cows shelter in it but there's an upper floor no one uses.”

“I could stay there?”

“Sure. No one else would know.”

“We play there sometimes,” said Finn. “There's these little slit windows you can see out of. No one could sneak up on you.”

“Is it far?”

“Back down the valley a bit,” said Connor. “We can go through the woods and cut across the field if there's no one around.”

“We'd have to make sure Mrs. Megrim didn't see us,” said Finn.

“We'll keep the hill between us and the Switch House,” said Connor. “It'll be easy.”

The girl looked reluctant, not able to bring herself to trust them.

“How did you escape the dogs?” asked Finn. “They must have had your trail.”

“I waded up the river,” she said. “At night, so no one would see.”

“Smart,” said Finn. “When they came for my sister there was nothing we could do.”

“They took your sister?”

“Years ago. I was only young.”

Sitting there, the memories of that day were vivid now. Thinking Shireen had returned had brought her surging back. It was a strange coincidence that he had found the glade again just as the ironclads had returned to the valley.

“What's inside the engine?” asked Connor.

“Wasn't anything inside it. It's just a cage. It's what they put you in when they catch you. To make sure you don't get away when they take you to Engn.”

Finn looked to see if the girl meant it. He and Connor spent their lives roaring through the woods, running where they wanted, going miles and miles. They could walk all day together and not feel tired. The thought of being caged inside that smoking, iron box was too much.

“We'll take you to the barn,” said Finn, standing up. “You'll be safe. We'll make sure no one sees you. I promise.”

The girl hesitated for a moment more then stood. She stooped to pick up her bundle of blankets and looked back at Finn.

“Thanks.”

“What's your name?” asked Connor, also standing up.

“Diane.”

“I'm Connor. This is Finn. We'll go first to make sure no one's watching.”

They stood together in the shadows of the trees, looking out onto open fields. The stone barn sat a little way away. Nothing moved apart from two buzzards wheeling high in the sky, calling out in distant, mewing cries.

“The lane's empty,” said Connor. “Let's run across before anyone comes.”

“What about this Mrs. Megrim?” asked Diane.

“She can't see us here,” said Finn.

“I'll go first and make sure no one's around,” said Connor. He loped off down the slope and into the wide, mouth-like opening of the barn. A few moments later they saw his arm thrust out through one of the slit windows on the upper floor, waving to them to follow.

Diane looked at Finn. Finn smiled at her.

“Come on,” he said, and the two of them ran to the barn wall. The yellow stones were warm to the touch from the sun that had been on them all day. No one called or shouted. They stepped into the darkness.

They scrambled up a rough staircase of straw bales that led to the upper floor. Large cracks between the wooden boards let him see down to the ground underneath. The boards creaked but seemed solid enough to stand on.

“We can cover the floor with straw for you to sleep on,” said Connor. He held a rusting sickle blade, using it to hack open one of the bales. They soon had a thick layer of it in one corner. Diane pushed more of the bales together to form a low wall between the hatchway and her bed.

“In case anyone looks in,” she said.

Finally, they sat together on the carpet of straw. Finn and Connor threw handfuls of it at each other, laughing, and soon Diane, smiling at least, joined in. They ate the last of the food together.

“We'll bring you more tomorrow,” said Finn. “And some water from the river.”

“Thanks,” she said. “Thanks for everything.” She lay down and closed her eyes. She looked exhausted.

“We'd better go,” said Finn. “We'll cut back through the woods so no one knows we've been.”

“And don't worry,” said Connor. “No one ever comes here.”

She nodded but said nothing else. Finn and Connor exchanged glances, then jumped back down to the ground floor to run back into the woods.

Ambling down the lane on his way home that evening, Finn met Matt. The lengthsman whistled as he walked. He had a mattock and a shovel slung over his shoulder. The skin of his arms and face was grey with a coating of dust from the lane he'd been working on. He smiled cracks in it as he spotted Finn.

“Hello, young man. What mischief have you been up to today, then?”

“Playing with Connor.”

“Ah!” said Matt, as if this were a great secret. “Any more sign of them ironclads?”

Finn shrugged.

“Well, let's hope we've seen the last of them, eh?” said Matt. “Those contraptions of theirs make a real mess of my lanes.”

“Yes.”

“Mind you, they're mighty powerful and no mistake. They say if you teamed ten horses together and put them in a tug-of-war with the engine, the machine would win. Imagine that! That would be some sight to see, eh?”

Finn nodded.

“Well, tell your dad I'll be round first thing tomorrow.”

“I will.”

The lengthsman turned and, still whistling his tuneless tune, strode off.

That night, Finn's mother tucked him into bed. Finn thought about Diane, out there alone in the barn with the darkness and the owls. Was she asleep yet? He thought about the ironclads. His mother sat with her arm around him, stroking his hair. The hard stone walls of his room faded away into the shadows, leaving them alone in the bubble of light from the bulb. Occasionally the glow dimmed as the current from the waterwheel fluctuated, then snapped back to full brightness. His mother spoke quietly to him, whispering to the top of his head.

“Is there anything wrong, Finn? You were very quiet at tea.”

“I'm fine.”

“Are you having the nightmares again?”

“Sometimes.”

“They're just dreams, you know. They can't harm you.”

“I know.”

They sat in silence for a time. Finn traced the patterns on his blanket with his finger.

“Mum, why don't people destroy Engn?”

“Now Finn, you mustn't say things like that.”

“I mean it. Why doesn't everyone get together and go there and tear it all down?”

His mother sat up and turned to look at him, grasping his shoulders.

“Now listen to me, Finn. You mustn't say things like that. Not ever. Do you understand? If people hear you, you could get into trouble. Real trouble. You can't trust everyone in the valley.” Her voice was louder, urgent.

“I know.”

“You must promise me.”

“I promise.”

“Good.”

She sighed and turned to sit next to him again. They sat together in silence.

“It just isn't that simple,” she said after a while. “Some people tried to do what you said, many years ago. It didn't go well. Lots of people died at the walls. There were attacks on the masters, too, and that was why Engn started sending out ironclad guards to protect them. The villages and towns of those responsible were destroyed as an example, burned to the ground. It was terrible.”

Finn nodded. Mrs. Megrim had mentioned such things in her history lessons. “But why do people put up with it? Why do they allow the masters to come and take people away?”

“I know it's hard to understand, but I think over time folk simply learned to accept the occasional loss in exchange for a peaceful life. People who tried to fight back suffered the consequences: an army of ironclads burning their houses to the ground, salting their fields, poisoning their water supplies. Most people aren't directly affected – it's somebody else's child that gets taken – so they look the other way and refuse to get involved. It's surprising how people can become accustomed to an evil and accept it as simply the way the world works.”

It was like Engn and the ironclads and everything else were now so big and ever present that people had stopped seeing them, stopped thinking things could be any different. It was like not being aware of the ground because it was always simply there.

“Why do they even need children?”

“They need laborers and makers and all sorts, things I couldn't begin to understand. Engn is a special place; it's vast and miraculous, a place of wonders. Generations of people have laboured to build it. Some have gone there willingly; a master of Engn lives a privileged life of unimaginable luxury. But there are never enough hands to do all the work required. There are tasks that have to be carried out that no one wants to do, dangerous and dirty tasks, and so they started taking people. One or two, very occasionally, from all around the valley – that was the arrangement.”

“So, they'll be forcing Shireen to do these terrible things?”

“I'm sure half the stories you hear about what goes on can't be true. Shireen's smart; she'll be okay.”

“I hate Engn.”

“Oh, Finn.” She hugged him close. “I know it all seems frightening. You'll think differently when you're older. Sometimes people go there to do things, become things, that they never could out here. Like an adventure.”

“Did you ever want to go?”

“Well, once, I suppose. But then I wouldn't have been able to have you, would I?”

“Or Shireen.”

“Or Shireen, of course.”

“I'm glad you didn't go.”

She squeezed him tighter for a moment. “Come on. It's time you were asleep.”

They sat like that for a long time, neither speaking, until Finn's eyes drifted shut.