For the next eight hours, the only conversation was about construction. Large slabs of metal were pulled from the flames and handed to Moshul, who was an expert at hammering them flat. Righteous, Pryvyd, and the two Summoned Ones were in charge of cutting them into the shapes depicted on Wily’s and Kestrel’s blueprints. The gwarf then drilled the screw holes in the large pieces before they were dragged over to the worktables.
Odette and Roveeka were put in charge of the more difficult task of making the smaller pieces of the machines. They poured the hot steel into molds that the gwarf’s daughter had created. Once the metal was cooled, Roveeka flipped the molds to reveal dozens of silver screws of various sizes.
Wily and Kestrel had the final job in the assembly line. They were constructing the soldiers, interlocking the pieces with the screws and bolts.
“Here’s the five screws you need,” Kestrel said, sliding a box across the worktable.
“Actually, I need six,” Wily replied. “Found a spot that needed reinforcing.”
“Six it is.” Kestrel nodded, throwing an extra screw into the box before handing it to his son.
“They are looking perfect so far,” Kestrel remarked as he continued working on his own machine.
Wily couldn’t agree more. Standing before him were a trio of shiny silver mechanical men. They were just like the gearfolk Kestrel had made during his reign as the Infernal King, only these were built with intricate mechanics inside that would not require them to be operated by rust fairies.
“With no one inside controlling them, how will they know what to do?” Pryvyd asked as he carried over a pile of precut legs. “A soldier is not like an automated rowing machine. Many actions are required of it.”
“There are powerful magnets built into the armor,” Kestrel said. “They will be commanded by a Master Suit. Whatever action the Master Suit performs, the other suits will copy it exactly. It will allow a single person to control an entire army. Let me show you.”
Kestrel slipped on a Master Glove. He clenched his fist tightly, and as he did the three silver mechanical men did the same.
“Amazing,” Pryvyd said.
“One of the advantages of being stuck in a prison cell for months is that it gives you plenty of time to think,” Kestrel replied. “I came up with lots of clever ideas while I was in there.”
Kestrel removed the glove and placed it next to him.
“Let me be clear about this now,” Pryvyd said, picking up the glove. “You will not be the one to lead the new army of ubergearfolk.”
Kestrel was taken aback. “I constructed the machines,” he said. “No one would be better equipped to control them.”
“Then let’s hope you are as good a teacher as you are an engineer. Because I still don’t trust you. I will wear the armor.”
“And how will the right arms of the gearfolk be controlled?”
“Righteous will wear that piece of the armor,” Pryvyd answered.
Wily looked at Kestrel, waiting to see what his response would be.
“Fair enough,” Kestrel relented. “You will wear the Master Suit.”
The former Infernal King returned to the task at hand. “I figure with sixty-five of these soldiers,” Kestrel said, “we should be able to come out victorious even if Stalag has rebuilt every gearfolk and snagglecart I ever made.”
Kestrel slid a pair of metal legs across the table to Wily.
“This is for soldier number four,” Wily’s father said. “Only sixty or so to go.”
JUST LIKE DURING his time in Carrion Tomb, it was hard to tell how much time had passed while they were working. Wily was so focused on the task at hand that he didn’t even pay attention to his grumbling stomach. It could have been a few hours or a whole day. By the time there were sixty-five metal soldiers standing in formation, Wily was so tired he could barely stand.
“They’re beautiful,” Kestrel said, looking at the shining army. “We make quite a team.”
“Hopefully,” Pryvyd said, “this will be enough to defeat the magically enhanced gearfolk.”
“I don’t doubt it for a moment,” Kestrel said, giving his son a wink.
“I made this for you,” the gwarf’s daughter said as she approached Pryvyd and Righteous.
She held a new set of silver armor in her hands. There was a breast plate, leg pieces, an arm piece, and a gauntlet for Pryvyd. For Righteous, she held a silver arm piece and gauntlet.
“They lock together if you want to fight as one,” she said. “Or they snap apart if you want to be independent.”
“Thank you for this unexpected gift,” Pryvyd said. “Once I no longer need to wear the Master Suit, this will be my armor of choice.”
“And, of course, I have a shield and sword to match,” the gwarf daughter said, handing over one with an intricate design of the golden sun rising above Drakesmith Island. Righteous seemed quite pleased to get into armor made just for it and to grab the sword. The floating arm swung the sword to test its weight and balance.
“That looks just like the pattern on Pops,” Roveeka said, pulling out her knife.
The gwarf hustled over to peer down at the weapon in her hand.
“Where did you get this?” he asked Roveeka.
“It was left for me in my crib by my parents,” she said.
“I made these knives for my loyal assistants,” the gwarf said. “A lovely couple. Hard workers. They traveled to Panthasos to help the hobgoblets that were banished to Undertown. I believe they were captured before reaching their destination. They never returned.”
“Did they have a child?” Roveeka asked.
“Not when I knew them, but they were very much in love.”
“Maybe they were my parents…,” Roveeka said with a far-off look. “What were their names?”
“Roselle and Veekam.”
A big, crooked smile spread across Roveeka’s face. “Their names combine to make mine.”
“Let’s give this army a test run,” Kestrel said.
Pryvyd approached Kestrel, who was holding pieces of the Master Suit. Wily watched as Kestrel helped Pryvyd slide his arm into the metal sleeve and place the gauntlet on his fist. Once Pryvyd’s legs and chest were encased, Kestrel placed the helmet over the Golden Knight’s head. It was strange for Wily to watch these two very different father figures working together.
Pryvyd took a step forward, and as he did, all the eversteel gearfolk did the same. Pryvyd continued his walk toward the far side of the cavern. The metal men followed him in perfect unison.
“We’re ready,” Wily said.
The gwarf walked across the floor of the cavern to a long metal wall. He peered through a pair of holes cut into it.
“Before we open up the wall,” the gwarf said. “We need to make sure that there’s no one lurking about out there. This secret entrance must remain a secret.”
After a good long look, he pulled his face away from the holes in the wall.
“The coast is clear,” he said as he moved to a large lever. He pulled down on it and the entire wall began to slide. Moonlight flooded inside as the door exposed the jungle beyond.
“Quickly now,” he said. “I don’t want to keep it open longer than I have to.”
Pryvyd marched out of the cavern, leading the ubergearfolk into the night air. Wily, Roveeka, Moshul, Odette, and Kestrel walked alongside them. Righteous soared along above. Not a moment after they were all outside, the door began to close behind them. The gwarf’s daughter waved good-bye.
“Good luck,” she called out.
“When you are done with the mechanical men and the world is safe once again,” the father gwarf called out, “return them to me. I will put them back into the flames of the Eversteel Forge. Then they will never fall into the wrong hands.”
With that last statement, the door of the mountain was sealed shut. Wily could see that the exterior wall was made of stone to perfectly match the mountain face.
“Moshul, send out your fireflies,” Wily said to the moss golem, “to signal Jayrus’s and the Recluself’s return.”
Moshul raised his arms into the air. Out from the vegetation dozens of fireflies emerged, their abdomens twinkling in the darkness. A few of the glowing insects fluttered around the hugtopus, who beamed at them happily. After a beat, they flew out over the trees.
The group began its descent of the hillside toward the beach. Wily could see night creatures scurrying away from the strange, reflective machines passing by. “Wily.” Pryvyd had walked up beside him. “I just wanted to let you know that the only reason I’m so harsh on Kestrel is that I don’t want to see him hurt anyone. Especially you.”
“I understand,” Wily replied. “And I appreciate how much you care.”
Pryvyd put a gentle hand on Wily’s shoulder and gave him a pat. To their amusement, the sixty-five ubergearfolk behind them copied the very same motion, patting the air as if there were invisible shoulders there.
“And I guess I appreciate how much they care too,” Wily said, gesturing to the gearfolk.
The group slowed as they got closer to the ocean. Gentle waves lapped against the empty beach.
“They should have been here by now,” Kestrel said as he looked out at the Eversteel Sea.
“We only sent out the fireflies a short while ago,” Pryvyd said from behind the mask of the Master Suit. “I have faith they will be here.”
“Nothing we can do now but wait,” Wily said, scanning the horizon.
Everyone found spots in the sand. Wily was surprised by how comfortable the cold sand felt on his back and legs. Then again, hours of constant construction near a hot forge might make anyplace feel like an overstuffed bed.
“HURRY UP!” THE Recluself screamed.
Wily’s eyes snapped open. He must have fallen asleep without realizing it. He peered over to see Roveeka and Odette snoring. He wasn’t the only one who had been tired. Wily turned his attention to the cove. The Recluself’s ship was sailing right to shore.
“What are you doing?” Pryvyd shouted to the sailboat closing in on the beach. “You’ll run aground!”
“We don’t have time to shuttle you on the boat,” Jayrus called out as he lowered the ladder. “We’re being chased away from the island. We barely made it here.”
The oglodyte pointed past the mouth of the cove, where another ship was sailing.
“The locals of Drakesmith Island truly do not like visitors,” the Recluself said as the bow of the ship hit the sandy bottom with a loud thud. “They have swords and axes. I was scared of the waves knocking me over. Clearly, I was worried about the wrong thing.”
Wily, Odette, and Kestrel ran into the sea. Roveeka sat on Moshul’s shoulders as the moss golem took large strides that sent waves churning around him. Once the water was up to Wily’s waist, Wily started swimming. Reaching the ladder, he began climbing to the deck. Behind him, Pryvyd was leading the eversteel gearfolk into the brine.
“They won’t be able to climb fast enough,” Kestrel shouted.
“Moshul,” Odette called back. “Give them a lift.”
Moshul grabbed a handful of the mechanical men and tossed them onto the deck.
“Be careful with them,” Kestrel shouted.
“He’s doing the best he can under the circumstances,” Roveeka said from his shoulders.
Moshul tossed Pryvyd and the remaining gearfolk onto the deck and started to push the Recluself’s ship back out to sea.
Wily glanced toward the mouth of the cove. The Drakesmith patrol ship was making very fast time. If they had a chance at all, their escape would be very narrow indeed.