Button & Braille and the Monocle of Nord

Button & Braille
and the Monocle of Nord
a young adult steampunk fantasy

The bronze hatch sat in the center of Munson street on the south side of the city, just near Gram’s Cookery and Eats – which sold the most scrumptious king cabbage and boar’s meat hoagies this side of the river. It was an eye sore, sitting there in the middle of the cobblestone, and also a traffic hazard. Many of the self-propelled coaches broke their axels or dented their cabs if they weren’t formerly aware of Silver Town’s mysterious bronze hatch, and thus it had become known to the locals as a hilarious killjoy, a conundrum in and of itself, a statute of evil to all out-of-towners who were waylaid in misery by the hatch, but habitually entertaining to town folk who caught their plight.

On the first Thursday of every month, a rather curious day to hold any nature of celebration or ceremony if you were to ask the locals, Mayor Jessip would close down Munson street and block off the hatch to hold a seventeen minute vigil for those poor adventurers who’d gone through the hatch to the tunnels beneath Silver Town and were never seen or heard from again. Mayor Jessip was an unconventional leader for sure, with his odd days and peculiar times for vigils, but the town folk would agree that the hatch had swallowed its fair share of curious and outgoing tunnel goers.

These disappearances had spurred the previous Mayor, who’d been voted out of office nearly a decade ago, to place a strong bolt with lock and key on the hatch, keeping out curious citizens and rightfully saving them from a rather mysterious fate of spontaneous disappearance. The key had at first been the sole responsibility of the Mayor, staying perpetually on a chain around his neck. But seeing the flawed logic of having a lock with only one key, he soon made copies and handed them out to his most trusted advisors and lawmen. Thus was born the Key Watchers. An elite group of law upholding citizens who patrolled the streets and protected the world from adventure and risk.

It was from one of these Key Watchers that “Button” Mayberry – Button not being her real name of course, but rather a nickname given to her to applaud her obsessive fascination with buttons of all shapes and sorts – managed to swindle into her possession a key to the mysterious bronze hatch. Having a penchant for adventure and trouble, Button set out immediately to travel down the hatch and explore the unchartered territories of the tunnel world beneath Silver Town. She would be one of the youngest adventurers to attempt it, being just beyond her fifteenth birthday, but there was no doubt in her mind, she was also the most capable.

In choosing a traveling partner, Button had to take careful consideration of who to bring with her. She couldn’t honestly make the trek alone, for who would believe her grand tales of heroism when she returned to the surface if it was only herself telling the story? No, she would need someone who was both trustworthy and obedient. It was due to these two qualities that Button came to settle on offering the role of adventuring partner to none other than Braille Dalton, a boy no more than a year older than she was, yet far less experienced in these worldly expeditions.

Now, there’d been years of speculation at the Silver Town Junior Academy as to whether Braille was the boy’s real name or not. He was a quiet fellow who mostly stuck to himself and very rarely ventured anywhere outside his home, the academy or his job at the local farmer’s market selling tins of beans and anchovies. Some students wondered if he was nicknamed Braille because he was blind – the slower students wondered if it was because he was deaf. But Braille was neither blind, dumb nor deaf and when asked why he was named what he was named, he’d simply responded with, “My parents.” Meaning, most likely, that it was just the name his parents had chosen.

So it was that Button and Braille decided to descend the hatch on a Monday night when no one would know and no one would miss them until Tuesday morning’s academy roll call.

“Do you know what I sacrificed to get this key?” Button demanded as soon as she saw the lithe, thin figure of Braille emerge from the shadows cast by the dim lamppost of Munson street. He carried a pack on his back and wore a thick jacket over a coal colored sweater. His boots were untied and his hair was a dark mess atop his head, his face casual and obedient as ever. Braille didn’t respond to Button’s question, nor did he seem inclined to give it any contemplation of the sort.

Crouching down over the hatch, Button swung her courier bag full of buttons over her side so it swung at her hip. She placed one factory-gloved hand on the hatch and with the other, she pointed at Braille’s face as he came to crouch next to her. “I traded three tins of cheese, two bolts of blue linen, and my best ink pen for this key,” Button told him. “But if you’re going to be a renowned adventurer like me, you need to know the key ingredients. Lesson number one – sacrifice. Did you know every adventurer that ever lived sacrificed something they held dearly for the sake of success?” she asked, reaching for the key around her neck. It shone dully in the lamplight between her fingers.

Braille shook his head, having not been aware of that fact.

“It’s true,” Button declared as she stuck the key into the lock and gave it a swift turn. The resonating click echoed off the sleeping buildings lining the quiet Munson street, its inhabitants unaware of the two novice (depending on whose point of view you were looking through) adventurers and the opening of a hatch that had been closed for years.

Reaching out to turn the hatch, Braille muscled the heavy metal door open, revealing the top rung of a damp brass ladder descending into the bitter darkness beneath. A peculiar, faint glow wafted down below, a rather curious discovery and not at all reminiscent of the town’s belief that the tunnels had been abandoned for years. The ominous atmosphere seemed not to trouble Button as she stuffed the key back beneath her musty military jacket and then swung her legs so they were hanging down the hole. She grabbed the rung of the ladder with one hand before pointing a finger at Braille.

“Take Tyke Hollows for instance,” she said, hefting herself up and beginning to descend the ladder, her attention separated in two parts between the darkness and Braille as he began to climb down after her, pulling the hatch closed behind him. “You know who Tyke Hollows is, don’t you?”

It was difficult finding the next rungs with his boots in the darkness, but he heard a small splash that meant Button must have found the bottom. A moment later, Braille dropped down beside her; a mucky, foul smelling water splashing against their ankles. Tunnels spread out in numerous directions, with ladders and causeways leading to more and more. It was an endless, intricate web of sewers, pipes, tunnels and caves. A string of lights led through each of them. It seemed a waste of electricity if no one had been down here for so long and it might have accounted for Silver Town’s electricity shortage four months ago.

“The Gafferty,” Braille said in a low, slow voice that betrayed the intelligence of his words.

“That’s right,” she exclaimed, delighted her chosen companion was schooled in the history of famous, albeit mundane adventurers. “He was the first man to discover the Endless Ocean. Built a water coach and everything to try and cross it. Called it the Gafferty. The only thing he didn’t count on was the salt.” Button paused in her history lesson to fix the bright red button tied into the pinnacle of her left blonde pigtailed braid. Many buttons adorned her hair, but the red one was her favorite – and her most lucky! She’d found it in the attic of her second cousin’s home. Stimey, her cousin, for her second cousin hadn’t been home at the time, hadn’t a clue what the button had fallen off of. A jacket, suspenders, perhaps a nice pair of slacks – it could have been anything. She was sure Stimey hadn’t known the button to be so lucky, because he never would have let her keep the thing. But he had and she wore it on the days when she needed the best of luck.

Turning to Braille, Button placed her hands on her hips to look him up and down. “The salt rusted right through his water coach. He drowned at sea. But you know what the kicker is?” Braille shook his head because again, he didn’t know. “Tyke Hollows sold his oven to build the water coach – so he wouldn’t have survived the winter if he’d have returned anyhow!” She laughed and slapped her knee, sloshing the murky water in doing so. “Sacrifice! But his was hefty. Ours? Ours was smart. You can always buy another ink pen.”

Reaching into the courier bag at her side, Button pulled out an old, Y-shaped piece of wood with a thick rubber band attached at the top. She pulled back on the band and held it up for Braille to see. “Second lesson of adventuring? Come prepared for a fight. There’s no better way of defending yourself than a sturdy slingshot.” She nodded her head and stuffed the slingshot into her belt, just next to her brass buckle. “What did you bring?”

Braille pulled his pack from around his shoulder and reached inside, withdrawing a small, blackened baton. The hilt sunk down over his hand, shielding it from slip wounds if he were to be engaged in sword fight. Smalls chips and dinks notched the baton to show it had been worn, but altogether, it looked harmless. Probably made more so by the tame boy who wielded it.

“That is what you brought?” Button gasped, exasperated. Braille titled the baton in his hand to eye it before giving her a curious look. Button threw her hands up in the air and shoved pass him, heading off down a tunnel, acting in part like she knew where she was going. “You’re lucky I’m the great adventurer that I am,” she told him. “We run into anything nasty down here, you have me,” she shoved her thumbs at her chest, “to protect you.”

Following along quickly, Braille latched the baton onto the strap of his pack for easy access should the need arise to use such a weapon. With long, even strides, he caught up to the ever spunky and quick Button, plodding her way down the tunnels without a care for what she was stepping in or what dangers could be lurking ahead of them.

“What’s lesson three?” Braille asked, much to the obvious surprise of Button, who gave him a rather curious look. He kept his head down, hands at his sides, trekking stiffly in the water.

Button’s enchanted laugh echoed around the tunnel and she reached over to clap him on the shoulder, nearly having to stand on the tips of her toes to reach it, for he was much taller than her. “Why Braille,” she chided. “This is the most talkative I’ve ever heard you!” She turned so she was walking backwards, sloshing the water up against his legs. He didn’t seem to mind. “Let’s see,” she said, putting a hand to her chin in concentration, for these lessons weren’t easy to remember – most likely because she’d only made them up today.

After a moment, Button’s eyes lit up and she pointed to Braille’s face. “Learn from the mistakes of those who went before you!” She nodded her head, satisfied at the intelligence of her advice. “Like Lucas P. Lucard. The engine conductor who wanted to turn the tunnels into a railway beneath the ground. Can you imagine that? Well he disappeared on his first day. Or what about Wendy Wormwood? Hunting for new meats for her stews? She was never seen again. Probably eaten by whatever it was she hunted down here!” Button curled her fingers into claws and bared her teeth at Braille, who just watched her with curious eyes.

“And Nord,” he answered.

Button paused at the name, Braille nearly crashing into her were it not for his quick reflexes. “You’re right,” she said, the seriousness of her voice echoing in the metal and dim light around them. “Nord came to the tunnels looking for salvation. But he foresaw his own fate. Before he came down here, he declared he would not come back unless salvation followed him.” Button tipped her head to the side. “I wonder what salvation he was looking for down here.”

With the question hanging in the air, Button began walking again, back still facing the open tunnel, her eyes narrowed and calculating as she watched Braille. It was perhaps due to this lack of vigilance on her part that she did not see the drainage pipe to her left. If she had been listening, she would have heard the telltale sound of running water echoing from somewhere below as it splashed into a mucky quarry. But she hadn’t been listening and hadn’t been watching and when her foot hit the slick metal near the opening, Button Mayberry lost her battle with gravity.

Slipping to the side, she hit the water with a startled “oomph” and slipped right into the gaping mouth of the drainage pipe. She let out a cry, gloved hands stretching out to grab onto anything she could to keep herself from disappearing down the pipe, but she was only met with open air and muck. She caught a glimpse of Braille’s startled face before that too disappeared and she was surrounded by darkness, being tossed and turned around like a ragdoll, sliding down the watery pipe.

Several times, she tried to right herself or spread her arms out to the side and tried to grip at the riveted brackets along the side, but they were too slippery and slick, her fingers passing right over them without slowing her descent in the slightest. She banged her elbows and knees against the sides, trying to cover her head as best she could.

Her long slide eventually came to an end when she burst from the drainage pipe and fell several feet into a deep pool of dirty, black water. The thickness nearly sucked her down, but Button had long been a strong swimmer, having won several competitions in the academy. She pushed with her legs until her head broke the surface and a wet, wretched cough tore its way from her throat. Treading water proved difficult, whatever was soiling this muck making it an effort just to keep moving.

“Braille!” Button yelled, coughing afterwards. Only a few feet away, she could see the edge of the quarry. She tried to make her way towards it, but her water treading was churning the black muck and turning it into sludge. It covered her and threatened to pull her below.

It was when she was within a foot from the quarry edge that she felt a slight tug on the back of her shirt. She turned to look over her shoulder, her blonde pigtails and cheery face now darkened by brown sludge. She saw nothing at first and surely it was just her shirt getting caught on debris or whatever else was floating in this muck. But when she blinked, she caught sight of something else, something quite peculiar, if you asked her.

There, beneath the surface of the water, was a blinking light – red and sporadic. She stared at it for a moment and even as she watched it, she could see it rising to the quarry’s surface. As soon as it broke out of the water, Button’s eyes went wide and she let out a small squeak that she would utterly deny had ever left her throat.

The red light adorned the top of an unwinding mechanism attached to the back of a bronze autonomic body in the shape of a vicious looking crocodile. Red quartz sat in place of its eyes and its teeth were jagged scraps of metal, twisted and bent. Its tail ticked back and forth like the pendulum of a clock, its feet paddling with rigid rhythm. It seemed to be having the same trouble Button had at traversing the heavy liquid, but it was still doing far better than she was.

Common sense, which Button had enough of to be able to call upon in dire times such as these, dictated that her trusty slingshot would be no match for a monstrosity like this and her only hope at outliving this grotesque wind-up creature would be to get out of the water.

Turning, she began a frantic push towards the quarry. It was inches from her grasp and if she just stretched a little further…

Button did not expect the hand that suddenly reached forward and wrapped itself around her wrist. She didn’t expect the raw strength with which she was pulled from the slopping water. Braille’s effortless grunt rang out at the same time she managed to get her bottom planted firmly on the quarry’s edge, her legs the only thing dangling yet in the water.

The wind-up crocodile’s jaws opened wide as it tried to consumer one of her feet. At the same time she unleashed a vicious kick at the crocodile’s head, Braille had his baton loosened from his strap and was bringing it down hard on the bronze monster’s head. With a loud thwack, one of the quartz eyes cracked up the middle, splintering into a web of shards. The red began to fade from its eyes and then the light atop the unwinding key on its back slowed before coming to a stop. Slowly, the bronze crocodile began to sink back down beneath the surface, disappearing from sight.

It took a moment for the mighty adventurers to catch their breath. Button, with sudden panic, reached up to feel the buttons that were clipped to her pigtails. She’d only lost one in her unexpected adventure, but it was a cheap one. Her lucky red button still held fast and she breathed a sigh of relief, turning to look at Braille. He didn’t look too disturbed by the events and Button looked beyond him for a moment, wondering how he got down to the quarry, because aside from the bottom of his trousers, he was dry an unsoiled.

“Well,” Button said, trying – and failing – to wipe the sludge from her person. “This is why you never adventure alone.” Her eyes widened and she poked her finger at his sternum to make sure he would get the point of her next words. “But I still could have taken that thing by myself.”

“Of course,” Braille answered, as if it were the most obvious thing in the world. Button eyed him, to see if maybe he were fibbing or amusing her, but his face gave away nothing and she nodded her head firmly. Braille nodded back to her and then raised his hand to point at something on the other side of the quarry. “There’s a room there.”

Button turned sharply and just as Braille had said, a pair of solid doors stood stark and out of place on the other side of a metal bridge. She frowned and huffed. “I knew that,” she declared. “This is where we’ve been heading all along. Come on now, you’re slowing me down.” She waved a hand at him, beckoning him to follow her as she crossed the metal bridge.

A bright light shone out from beneath the door and as they paused on the other side of it, it occurred to Button that she hadn’t the slightest idea what would be on the other side of these doors. She sucked in a breath and then grabbed the handles of the doors, giving it a swift tug. Her arms nearly popped out of their sockets as the doors not only remained shut, but affirmed that they were efficiently locked.

“Do you know what we need?” Button said, rubbing at her chin. “Dynamite. That would-”

Braille didn’t give her time to finish. His boot came out and hit the center of the doors with a loud boom. A small metal clink could be heard from the other side and the doors swung open from the impact, creaking in their unused years. Button stood shocked for only a moment before she shook it away and cleared her throat. “Well yes,” she said awkwardly. “That would work too. Come on, now.”

Stalking into the room, Button showed no fear. It was a plain room. The floor, made of grated metal, exposed the water quarry ran deeper than she’d first thought. She saw nothing beneath the water but it was unnerving now all the same, now that she’d been in it. A boiler sat to one side of the room and on the other was an unoccupied desk, with papers and scraps of metal strewn about. Behind the desk was a map of the city and what looked like a 3D map detailing all of the tunnels. It could come in handy, if it proved to be truthful.

At the opposite end of the room was a tattered curtain, drawn across an open doorway and from the other side of the doorway, a steady ringing sound could be heard, as if metal were being banged against metal in a repeated, even rhythm. Button withdrew her slingshot from her belt, while Braille had never truly put away his baton.

Pushing the curtain aside, the room opened up into what could have been, at one time, a massive storage facility. Button sucked in a harsh breath at the sight of the hundreds of bronze creatures lined up against the walls on either side of them. There were crocodiles, rats the size of dogs, spiders with spindly piped legs, and every so often, massive potbelly stoves had been turned into men with their ovens open, ready to be filled with coal. Each creature had a red light on top of their unmoving wind-up keys on their backs, and each light was off. It was the only consolation Button and Braille could find in the moment.

Braille’s hand wrapped itself around her upper arm and she gave another squeak, which once again, she would deny ever left her throat, and he pulled her to the floor, crouching in front of a metal railing. They maneuvered forward and Button gripped the railing as she spotted what had alerted Braille.

On the far end of the room stood a massive workbench. Blueprints and plans hung along the wall and an stove in the corner clinked steam out towards the high ceiling, humidifying the room and probably all of the tunnels if it had been running for years. But what was most intimidating was that a man stood near the work bench, banging a beaten old wrench down onto the beginning skeletal workings of another rat shaped bronze creature.

“Nord,” Braille said lowly.

Button turned to look at him with wide eyes. “What?” she whispered. “That’s impossible. That’s not Nord.”

Braille shook his head, reaching into his pocket and pulling out a locket attached to a small chain. He handed it to Button, who watched him for a moment before opening the locket. She drew in a quick breath as she saw the black and white photographs placed inside the delicate jewelry. “Your mother and father,” she whispered.

Reaching to point his finger at the man in the picture, Braille whispered quietly to her, “My father is Nord.”

She gasped, perhaps a little too loudly, at the revelation and the noise echoed around the room. Braille snatched the locket away and they both ducked down as far as they could go. They watched as the man at the far end of the room paused in his hammering at the creature. He slowly set the wrench down and for a moment, all that could be heard was the stove steaming into the room and the racing heartbeats of the two adventurers awaiting their fates.

“Salvation is at hand,” the man’s words were calm and collected. “Come forth, children. Your parts must be played.”

Swallowing thickly, Button glanced to Braille, who stood, and then she did the same. Braille held his hand out to motion for her to stay where she was and she frowned at him as he started to walk down the stairs, to the main floor, in between the creatures.

As he came to stand in the middle, Braille called, “Nord.” The man turned to look over his shoulder and Braille added, quieter. “Father.”

Nord turned around then. He was a pale, wretched looking man with hair and beard that hadn’t been trimmed in years. His clothes were tattered and torn. A chain hung from his collar and disappeared into his breast pocket. He was skinny and frail looking.

“Salvation comes, my son,” Nord said. “Silver City has dirtied itself with metal and oil. It has forgotten the lessons of plant and seed. Its salvation will come in its destruction.” He held his hands out towards the creatures lining the walls.

If Braille had a response for him, he didn’t get a chance to answer. Button, ever the outspoken one, scoffed and started down the stairs. “You’ve lost your mind!” she yelled at him. “You’re going to let these things loose on the city?” she demanded.

Nord regarded Button for a moment as she came to stand next to Braille before he abruptly dismissed her, turning his attention instead to his son. “The city will be reborn. Reborn into the lifeless age it has craved and cursed itself with.” With that, he reached into his pocket and pulled out a glass monocle, small, intricate weavings of gold flecked into the elaborate lens. Placing the monocle on his eye, the flecks began to glow a bright gold before they appeared to adjust across the glass and contort to the recognition of his dull eye. “My army will rise.”

In an instant, the monocle began to glow red and around them, the bronze creatures began to spark to life, their red lights flickering. Button sucked in a breath and quickly pulled a button from her pouch, placing it against her slingshot. She pulled back on the rubber and let her button fly. Her aim was slightly off, the button striking Nord in the nose, clearly not where she’d been aiming.

Letting out an angry growl, Nord turned and grabbed something off of the workbench behind him. As he whirled back around, a loud blast echoing around the room. Button felt a burning pain in her shoulder as she was shoved back by an incredible force. She landed hard on the ground, her pouch of buttons spilling out onto the floor. Her hand went to her shoulder instinctively and when she pulled away, her hand was gloved in crimson.

Braille, normally the quiet and stoic boy, let loose a roar that Button had never thought he possessed. He launched himself forward, baton held high above his head. He moved with flawless fluidity. A dancer’s grace that Button had never seen before and she wondered again just who he was. There was so much about him that no one knew.

The creatures around them began to all come forward at once, slow and sloppy steps making them more menacing than if they’d been able to move freely. Button whimpered slightly at the mass quantity of them and then looked back to Nord. The monocle on his eye was still glowing, even as he fought off Braille’s attack. She narrowed her eyes and then pulled her slingshot closer. Reaching for her lucky red button attached to her pigtail, because they needed all the luck they could get now, she attached it with bloody, shaky fingers to the rubber and pulled back, closing one eye to make sure her aim was true this time.

The button let loose and with a loud clank, it knocked the monocle right off of Nord’s face. It swung down on the chain and gave Braille the opportunity to yank it off his collar and throw it to the ground. Nord let loose a scream of terror as Braille turned and brought the head of his baton down onto the monocle, instantly shattering it into pieces that scattered about the floor.

“No!” Nord yelled, forgoing Braille and falling to his knees next to his shattered monocle.

The creatures that had been closing in on them all slowed to a stop, just as the crocodile in the water had and they bent, lifeless and metal once more. Button laid down on the ground, her head feeling heavy and a mite dizzy. She didn’t expect Braille to suddenly slide his arm beneath hers, another beneath her legs and lift her into his arms.

“We’re leaving him?” she asked, her head falling to rest against Braille’s shoulder.

“For now,” Braille told her.

Button nodded. “What about his army?”

Braille shook his head. “It’s not an army,” he told her and he started heading towards the door, ready to get her above ground, the wound in her shoulder more concerning than the sniveling genius behind him. “It’s just scrap now.”

Closing her eyes, Button nodded again. “Braille?” she asked, starting to drift off, but trusting Braille enough to get them home.

“Hmm?” he asked, picking up the pace.

She smiled. “I still say I could have taken him by myself.”

Braille just nodded. “Of course.”

The End

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Word Count: 4,993
Written for: "The Pressure Valve - closed for now." 
Also check out "The Many Adventures of Button & Braille"