Agatha H and the Voice of the Castle

Agatha waited until the voice wound down. “I have a way to stop it,” she said.

A brief silence. “You do?”

“Yes. I need to lure it through the door we just came through.” The giant metal creature padded over to them and sank to its haunches, its glowing eyes fixed upon the door in question. Agatha took a deep breath. “But we need it…distracted.”

The voice considered this. “Well…that should—what?” More low murmuring came from above. “I swear to the Mother of Knives, if this is more idiocy—all right! All right!” Another sigh. “You—what did you do to Vrin?”

Agatha was so surprised that she started slightly. Instantly, the automaton’s attention snapped to her. Agatha held her breath while her mind raced.

“Vrin? I don’t—”

The voice from above prodded her. “Lady Vrin. In Sturmhalten. What did you do to her?”

“Who are you?” Agatha felt a flush of sweat. The voice didn’t sound like one of the strange warrior women she had fled from in Sturmhalten, but how many others even knew of Lady Vrin’s existence?

“Please. This is very important.” Despite this statement, it was obvious that the speaker thought it a waste of time.

Agatha didn’t want to make an enemy of the owner of the voice, but…

“You won’t be mad?”

“I’m already mad!” the voice growled, “But not about whatever stupid thing this is about. Please.”

“Well, I kind of hit her with a broom.”

Moloch interrupted. “A broom?”

“I…kind of hit her with a broom a lot.”

A different voice sounded above. “Thank God—it is you. Agatha…”

Agatha realized that she recognized the second voice. “Tarvek?”

“Okay, get ready to run!”

With a crash, Tarvek Sturmvoraus leaped from the shadows above and landed square on the back of the giant machine. He appeared to be wearing hastily wrapped sheets, and little else. “Run!” he yelled. Above them, the other voice shrieked in furious protest.

The automaton leapt into the air and gave a shrill mechanical roar. It then began a twisting set of gyrations, trying to dislodge its rider.

As Agatha and Moloch leapt to their feet, a girl dressed in deep shades of black and purple dropped to the floor beside them. She was staring at Tarvek with rage boiling off her. “What are you doing, you idiot?”

Tarvek, still hanging on to the monster, ignored her and called to Agatha, “The door! GO!”

The girl looked like she was about to leap straight into the fight. Both Agatha and Moloch grabbed her and began to drag her along with them towards the doors. “No!” she shrieked. “After all that trouble getting your useless butt out of that hospital, you are not going to commit suicide! Grandma will have me flayed!”

The automaton stopped its attempts to throw Tarvek off and lunged after the fleeing trio with a roar. Quickly, Tarvek threw his sheet over its eyes, and it stopped dead for a moment, as if puzzled. Then it shook itself like a dog and roared again, clawing at the fabric that hid its face.

Agatha shouted: “Everybody scatter!” If it doesn’t follow you, get the door open!”

The three ran in different directions as the device cleared the sheet from its eyes.

“Don’t follow me. Don’t follow me…” Moloch’s frantic voice could be heard as he pelted his way across the room. With a howl, the creature bounded off after him. “I knew it!”

Agatha forced herself to ignore Moloch’s scream of rage and ran for the door. “I made it!” she called out exultantly, and she gave the great door a tug. Nothing. “And it’s locked!”

“Oh, that’s just perfect!” Agatha realized the girl in purple was at her side. She pushed Agatha away. Dipping a hand into one of the pouches at her waist, she extracted a slim, hooked rod. “Move! Highly trained Smoke Knight comin’ through!”

The girl slid the rod into the keyhole and twirled it about. A look of surprise flitted across her face. “This isn’t locked.” Another twirl in the opposite direction. “This is jammed.”

Agatha closed her eyes. “Yes, that happens a lot around here, apparently.”

“Yeah, but I can’t do anything about that. I’m not a weight lifter. How am I supposed to deal with this?”

Agatha glanced behind, and saw the creature, with Tarvek still astride it, galloping towards them. “Really quickly!”

“Violetta,” Tarvek shouted. “Take her up!”

“You think? Idiot.” In a single movement, the girl produced a chubby little air-pistol, pointed it straight up, and fired, grabbing Agatha around the waist.

Agatha felt a jerk as she was hauled upwards, the reel on the device screaming in protest. Centimeters below her feet, the automaton’s jaws closed on empty air with a ringing snap.

A shove and a quick grab for support, and Agatha found herself hauled atop a thick wooden ceiling beam.