Episode 12 ~ The Clockwork Pulse
Time kept on ticking—ticking into the future...
The lyrics of the Steve Miller Band song echoed in Calliope’s mind as she followed the caravan through the rolling countryside of Zeenthala. The blind basilisks pulling the carts moved with a steady cadence, their clawed feet pressing into the dirt in rhythmic precision.
Her companions had run ahead to investigate a massive automaton pushing a stone wheel. She lingered, watching as it passed—a hulking, mechanical behemoth groaning with noises she could not understand. Arlo once again talking about rating metal he probably shouldn’t. Calliope had heard he munched down one of Arnos favorite tools.
The wind tousled her soft brown curls as they pressed onward. As the sky painted itself in hues of dusk, the group gathered to draw straws for watch duty. Calliope took the first shift with Arnos, allowing Gideon a full night’s rest for once.
As they settled in, she watched Arnos tinker with his defender. The firelight flickered over his hands as he adjusted gears and sigils, his focus unwavering. Then, a sound stirred in the distance.
Curious, they set off to investigate and soon came upon a Zeenthalian paladin, a farmer, and a donkey. Paladin was deep in his argument with the Farmer. She wasn’t sully paying attention. She had let Orion, recently dictate many of her actions out of fear.
Arnos, his thick dwarven accent unmistakable, squinted at the farmer. “Yer sure nothin’s amiss?” he asked. A faint trace of blood was visible on the man’s shirt.
As Arnos handled whatever business was truly at hand, Calliope decided to entertain herself—by flirting with the paladin.
The paladin turned to face her, his expression unreadable beneath the polished steel of his helmet. Calliope tilted her head, stepping into the warm glow of the lantern light.
"Can you take off the helmet?" she asked, her voice lilting with curiosity.
"Sorry, miss. That's against my vows," the paladin replied, his tone polite but firm.
"Pity," she murmured, her gaze lingering on him. She kept his focus on her, just as she heard the distinct thud of Arnos uppercutting the farmer in the gut. A heartbeat later, the farmer collapsed to the ground with a groan.
Arnos dusted off his knuckles. "Come, lass. We should get back to camp," he said, now leading the donkey along as if it had always been his.
Calliope flashed the paladin a sly smile. "See you around," she said before turning to follow Arnos.
As they walked, a stray thought wormed its way into her mind—had Orion seen that? And if he had, did it bother him?
She exhaled sharply, shaking her head. Why in the world do I even care what he thinks?
Her fingers tightened around the cold, icy amulet resting against her chest—the one thing still holding her together. This whole trip had been strange, and she had a feeling it was only going to get stranger.
Before bed, Calliope decided to take care of something that had been bothering her. She asked Arnos for the trapped kobold in the glass ball, but when no one paid her any attention, she did something she never thought she’d do—she lifted her shirt and flashed him. Arnos immediately froze, Gideon stared in stunned silence, and Kuresh said nothing. Without a word, Arnos handed over the kobold. Calliope secured the glass ball in a macrame net and hung it around her neck alongside her amulet.
“Do you have a name?” Calliope asked. The kobold responded with angry, guttural noises. She sighed.
“You’ll be Kolby now,” she said quietly. “Act up, and I’ll give you back to Arnos.” The foul-mouthed kobold seemed to settle down after that.
The next day, as they neared Zeenthala, they stumbled upon an old man selling magic beans. Calliope hesitated while her companions eagerly bought and ate them without a second thought.
Why was she doing this? Was this the peer pressure they had warned her about in those ridiculous school videos?
With a sigh, she popped the bean into her mouth. It had a faint, unplaceable flavor—almost metallic—and an odd, lingering odor. Then, without warning, her mind was flooded with knowledge she had absolutely no use for.
Plumbing.
She knew everything about plumbing. Pipes, valves, water pressure calculations—useless facts stacked up in her brain like some bizarre curse.
Calliope groaned, rubbing her temples. I didn’t sign up to be Super Mario.
Somehow, she suspected this knowledge might come in handy, but that didn’t make it any less infuriating. She definitely didn’t want to be a plumber. She wanted to be back in Obscura Antiques, working her boring, predictable job.
Maybe her clockwork heart, Orion, all this magic—maybe it was finally getting to her.Kuresh was still suspicious about the man and beans. His eerie obsession with his book also nagged at the back of Calliope’s mind,
A family passed by her, chanting the "Blessing of the Moon." Calliope was just about ready for this to be over. They were so close to the gates of the city now. A young girl, clad in simple robes, approached her.
"Blessing of the Moon," the girl said, her voice soft but clear. Calliope looked at her, and in that instant, time seemed to stop. For the first time, she felt her actual heartbeat—her blood turning to ice in her veins—before the ticking of her clockwork heart resumed.
"Find her," the girl said, her voice like a whisper on the wind. The air around her shimmered as a magical, almost ethereal image unfolded—a gazebo bathed in moonlight, surrounded by glowing flowers. The sky was painted in soft pinks and blues. Then, in a flash, it was gone, but the image was now etched in Calliope's mind. Her ticking heart seemed to race, anxiety gripping her chest.
She couldn’t have a heart—at least not a real one. The Puppeteer, Orion, would want it. But who was this woman she had to find? Before Calliope could fully process her thoughts, Roy Wellington appeared, urgent and out of breath.
"Hide under the wagons," he said, his voice tight with tension. "The paperwork’s been stamped. If you don't hide, I can't pay you."
Her heart was pounding too fast. The mechanical ticking was erratic now, and she was unsteady. Would he murder her for it? She felt it—a real pulse, a real heart.
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