Book 1 - Hay Wired , livre ebook

Mogzilla - Alex Keller

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173 pages

English

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Description

Haywired is a ‘Steampunk’ adventure that’s packed with murderous inventions, two desperate runaways and one mad dad. Themes of science Vs superstition run throughout the story. We think this book will be ideal for readers of 11 and up looking for an exciting plot full of twists and turns.

Informations

Publié par	Mogzilla
Date de parution	01 septembre 2022
Nombre de lectures	0
EAN13	9781906132354
Langue	English
Poids de l'ouvrage	2 Mo

Informations légales : prix de location à la page 0,0456€. Cette information est donnée uniquement à titre indicatif conformément à la législation en vigueur.

Extrait

HAYWIRED

By Alex Keller

HAYWIRED First published by Mogzilla in 2010

Ebook pdf edition: 978-1-906132-35-4

Paperback edition: ISBN: 978-1-906132-33-0

Text copyright Alex Keller 2009 Cover by Rachel de Ste. Croix Cover ©Mogzilla 2010 Copy editor: Mogzilla Printed in UK

The right of Alex Keller to be identiîed as the author of this work has been asserted in accordance with the Copyright, Designs & Protec-tion Act 1998. This book is sold subject to condition that it shall not, by way of trade or otherwise, be lent, resold, hired out or otherwise circulated without the publisher’s prior consent in any form of binding or cover other than that in which it is published and without a similar condition being imposed on the subsequent publisher.

http://www.mogzilla.co.uk/haywired

http://alexkelleruk.tumblr.com/

Chapter One: It Begins

In the gardens of Castle Guggenstein, a young boy of no more than eleven or twelve strolled over to a cannon sitting on the well-kept lawn. Next to the cannon was Mr Shawlworth. The old castle gardener stood peering over his half moon spectacles, trying to make sense of a piece of paper in his hands. ‘Ah Ludwig,’ he said, looking up. ‘Ready?’ The boy called Ludwig nodded. ‘Sure. What do you want me to do?’ ‘We’re going for a îeld half a mile away this time. Can you lift the cannon -îve degrees...’ Ludwig bent down and tilted the cannon until its dial read forty-îve. ‘Done.’ ‘Now, drop in the pod.’ On the ground near Ludwig’s feet was a round metal ball about the size of a man’s îst. He picked it up and shook it. Inside he could hear seeds bouncing around. He dropped it into the barrel and listened to it roll down, hitting the bottom with a satisfying clunk. ‘And done,’ he called over his shoulder. ‘Good. Now you best stand back. Your dad’ll have my head if you get hurt again,’ said the gardener. Ludwig stood next to one of the owerbeds and watched as Mr Shawlworth stepped up to the cannon. The gardener looked at the paper in his hand once more. ‘It says I have to…’ He reached out and a low hum came from the cannon, followed by a rumbling that slowly grew

louder. Then the ground began to shake. ‘Is it meant to do that?’ Ludwig asked uncertainly. ‘Deînitely,’ said the gardener, not sounding very deînite at all. ‘And when this dial gets to a hundred I have to press…ah!’ Mr Shawlworth hit one of the bigger buttons and jumped away, diving into a ball and covering his head with his hands. However, after a few moments of silence, he peered up to see Ludwig standing looking unconcerned. Nothing had happened. ‘It hasn’t worked,’ said Ludwig. Mr Shawlworth began to get up. ‘Well, at least it didn’t–’ BOOOOOOMMMMMM!!!! The explosion was tremendous. A great gust of wind knocked the gardener face down again with a grunt. ‘Agh! Hellîre!’ he cried, covering his head as clods of earth and shards of metal crashed into the lawn around him. Ludwig, meanwhile, had found himself lying in the owerbed covered in petals. He wiped the owers from his face and looked up to see the metal pod shooting up into the sky at an incredible speed, clipping the side of the castle on its way. ‘Your father’s not going to like this,’ said Mr Shawlworth when the ringing in his ears had died down. He looked at the hole that had been left in the ground. ‘And that’s going to be a right nightmare to sort out.’ Ludwig sat up. ‘At least it îred in the right direction this time,’ he said. Mr Shawlworth shrugged and pulled out his pocket watch. ‘You need to go, lad, you’ve got your lessons.’ Ludwig got up, nodded, and, swaying slightly, made his way back inside the squat castle he called home. This was how many of his mornings began.

In the kitchens, Ludwig found Mrs Pewsnitt, the castle housekeeper, washing the breakfast dishes. Her husband sat at the table with a cup of tea in one hand and the paper in the other. He usually popped in to visit his wife at this hour. Father didn’t mind. They both looked up when he opened the door. ‘Morning love,’ Mrs Pewsnitt cooed. She passed Ludwig a freshly-made bacon sandwich, which he took gratefully. ‘Nothing broken this morning I ‘ope?’ ‘No,’ said Ludwig shaking his head. He slid onto a chair, dropped his plate on the table, and started on his breakfast. ‘All right, lad?’ said Mr Pewsnitt. ‘How goes the new thingumabob? We ‘eard Arthur cursing all the way in here, as well as the explosion of course.’ Ludwig mumbled something between mouthfuls and Mr Pewnitt looked at him oddly. ‘Nothing to worry about,’ Ludwig înally managed. ‘Thanks Mrs Pewsnitt!’ he got up and ran out of the room. ‘Strange lad,’ said Mr Pewsnitt before returning to his paper. Ludwig made his way through Castle Guggenstein’s great hall and up the staircase that led to its library. Behind the library doors he could hear the faint sound of music that meant his father was inside. Opening one, he stepped through. The library was vast. Row upon row of bookcases led away from the main doors, each one crammed from oor to ceiling with books of every possible size and length. Ancient myths sat next to astronomy that sat next to advanced mathematics and music theory, all jumbled together in no apparent order. Ludwig wandered between the books towards the light at the end of the main aisle. Soon enough, the shelves ended and the room opened up to a space in which stood an old desk, a comfortable leather chair, and to 6

one side, an odd-looking piano. At the odd-looking piano sat his father. Mandrake von Guggenstein had his eyes closed when Ludwig arrived. He was tall, and like Ludwig, dark and thin. At this precise moment he sat with his shoulders straight and his head tilted slightly to one side as his long îngers danced across the piano’s keys, lost in his music and seemingly totally unaware of his son standing nearby. Until... ‘My boy,’ Mandrake said gently over the melody. ‘Did our cannon perform its duties admirably?’ ‘Well...’ mumbled Ludwig. ‘Not exactly.’ ‘Hmm?’ ‘It left a hole in the garden and we’re not sure where the pod went; but at least itîredthis time.’ Mandrake sighed. ‘Ah, that’s better than yesterday at least. Oh well, it can’t be helped; we are scientists after all and mistakes will be made.’ He dropped the piano cover, walked over to one of the shelves and took a book, not bothering to check the spine. ‘Now, sit down and we will begin.’ Ludwig climbed into the chair behind the desk and waited. ‘Magdaliana’sMetallugica,’ Mandrake said, tapping his hand on the book and pushing it under Ludwig’s nose. ‘We’ll continue from page two hundred and thirteen.’ Ludwig icked to the right page and cast his eye over complex signs and patterns. Then he took a pencil and waited while his father cleared his throat.

‘Ludwig,’ said his father later that day, ‘We’ll înish here for now. Put your books away.’ Ludwig cleared his things and got up, but as he made his way back to the kitchen for lunch, his father called 7

him back. ‘I’m not quite done with you yet.’ Ludwig smiled. ‘It’s ready?’ he asked. His father didn’t reply. Instead, he pulled out a piece of paper from his jacket pocket and pinned it to the desk with a couple of paperweights. Ludwig went over and looked down. Itwasnew the project. ‘What about the cannon?’ he asked. ‘We can put it to one side for awhile. This is far more important.’ The thing on the paper was human-shaped, with two arms and two legs attached to a round, stocky body. The machine’s head was pushed forward so its top was at the same level as its shoulders, and on its head was nothing more than two bulbous, glassy lumps, like the eyes of a y. Overall, the whole thing looked like an overweight praying mantis. ‘What is it?’ Ludwig asked. ‘An Heuristic Engine with Learning and Obedience Tailoring,’ replied his father. ‘A what?’ ‘It’s a bit of a mouthful I know, so I’ve called it the HELOT for short.’ Ludwig looked over the design. ‘What does it do?’ ‘Let me show you.’ His father leaned over the desk and icked a switch. There was a buzzing sound followed by the clattering of dishes. ‘Mrs Pewsnitt, can you hear me?’ Mandrake called out. ‘Loud an’ clear, sir. No problem! What can I do for yer?’ came the voice of the housekeeper. ‘Could you be so kind as to bring us our lunch in the library today?’ ‘Right you are dear!’ The radio went silent. Mandrake took his son by the shoulders, turned him so he was facing the doors, and lent down to speak in his ear.

‘Now watch.’ A minute later, the library doors opened. Mrs Pewsnitt came in with a silver tray in her hands. She let out a sigh and slowly made her way to Ludwig and his father, careful not to drop anything. ‘Where would you like it, sir?’ she asked politely. ‘On the desk please,’ replied Mandrake. Mrs Pewsnitt put the tray down and rubbed her back. ‘Oh that’s better,’ she muttered. Suddenly she glanced at Ludwig and his father as if she’d forgotten they were there, then quickly took her hands away from her back. She looked embarrassed. ‘You’ve got pork, potatoes, and veg. Plus a glass of wine for you, sir, and water for Ludwig, of course.’ ‘Thank you Mrs Pewsnitt,’ said Mandrake. ‘Anything else dears?’ ‘No. This will be more than adequate I’m sure.’ Ludwig just shook his head. ‘Right you are,’ she înished and hobbled away out of the library, closing the door quietly behind her. ‘What did you notice boy?’ Ludwig’s father asked when the housekeeper was gone. Ludwig was silent. ‘Come on. What struck you?’ ‘Well, she’s getting old...’ Mandrake patted his son on the back. ‘Exactly. Did you see the way she moved? The effort? She’s getting frail boy, and it’s not just Mrs Pewsnitt. I think it’s time to take the next step in our work.’ ‘You’re going to replace her?’ asked Ludwig, fearfully. ‘No,’ said his father, his eyes bright, ‘We’re going to helpher.’

Chapter Two: Sir Notsworth O’Reilly

The months passed quickly as father and son worked on the HELOT. Each morning they would rise early and, after breakfast, disappear into the workshop for the rest of the day. Mrs Pewsnitt rarely saw them until dinner. Then, one spring afternoon, Ludwig wiped his brow and pulled the blowtorch away from a leg joint he was welding. He took a step back and admired his work. ‘It’s nearly done!’ he called out. His father looked up from the clockwork innards across the room. ‘Not long now.’ Just as Ludwig was about to turn the torch back on and get back to work, a loud chime echoed through the castle. ‘Someone’s at the door!’ he cried in surprise. ‘Were you expecting anyone?’ asked his father, quietly. Ludwig shook his head. ‘No.’ ‘Neither was I.’ Ludwig rushed from the workshop and got to the main hall just in time to see Mrs Pewsnitt pull the lever that opened the front gates. Then she wobbled over to the heavy front doors and pulled them open. At this angle Ludwig couldn’t see who had arrived, but the deep, booming voice that greeted the housekeeper was enough. He grinned. ‘Mrs Pewsnitt!’ the voice behind the door bellowed. ‘Such a picture of loveliness as I ever saw!’ Ludwig watched the house keeper’s face ush. ‘Oh Sir, get away with yer!’ she said, fanning herself with her hand. ‘Come in! Come in! I’ll call the Professor.’