The Conquering Dark: Crown by Clay Griffith, Susan Griffith Clay Griffith Page B

Wagons and pedestrians flowed over its new stonework.
    Just downstream, like a forgotten less successful sibling, was Old London Bridge. The empty bridge was set to be demolished in just a few months. The roar of water rushing between its arches could already be heard. At the base of the bridge’s stone piers, every piling was surrounded by a veritable wooden island, or starling, which narrowed the space for the river to flow under the bridge into cramped sluices. During low tide, as was now approaching, water upstream of the bridge was six feet higher than down, and the river became dreadful falling rapids as it thundered through the constricting arches.
    There was no movement on the old bridge as Nick guided the wagon toward it, which made Simon nervous. Sweat rolled down his chest under the steel breastplate. “Are you sure Tommy got the word out?”
    â€œYou doubt my ability to spread gossip?”
    â€œAbout a loose woman, no. About a rock, yes.”
    â€œHave no fear.”
    Simon leapt down and unlocked an iron gate that blocked access to the bridge. Kate held her nervous horse in check as it pranced past. Simon waved Nick on, and his friend expertly drove the wagon through. After Malcolm passed, Simon quickly closed and locked the gate.
    The wagon rolled up to a gap cut into the balustrades which was the entrance to the cofferdam that sat in the water between the old and new bridges. It was a circular island made of upright timbers lashed tightly together. From it rose tall poles that had once held pile-driving machines for breaking the foundation for the new bridge. A stretched canvas awning covered it and the bright colors of the flag billowed in the wind that swept boldly down the river.
    Union Jacks atop the cofferdam snapped stiffly in the breeze and startled Kate’s bay gelding, but she kept her seat admirably and turned the shying horse away from the noise. Malcolm’s mount barely batted an eye at the commotion, large hooves clopping over the stones. The big Friesian’s calm demeanor soothed the bay. Malcolm’s attention, however, was on the far end of the bridge.
    Simon thought at first the vibrations he felt came from Malcolm’s massive horse. However, when the mounts stopped moving, he still sensed the thuds through the soles of his shoes. It felt like the rhythmic pounding of pile drivers, but Simon knew for a fact that the equipment had been dismantled.
    â€œWhat in holy hell is that thing?” Simon stared off the eastern side of the bridge.
    Penny poked her head out of the wagon and followed his gaze. Her jaw dropped. “It’s … beautiful.”
    A dark leviathan rose from the water. Spindly legs worked like long pistons adjusting for the river’s depth. At their tips were diamond-shaped daggers that drove down one after another as the strange machine approached the bridge, practically flowing in a mechanized process.
    The rotund body of the machine rivaled their wagon in size. Inside a bulbous eye of convex glass could be seen intricate gears that moved and whirred like a massive brain. Tubes jutted from various spots on the body, but all gathered up behind the eye where they vented clouds of hot vapor.
    Penny gasped at the alien nature of the contraption. Where Penny’s creations resembled actual life, this did not. She climbed out and stood atop the wagon. Imogen clamored up beside her.
    The mecha creature drew close with a uniform clicking and huffing sound. It waded against the torrent of water pouring through the arches. One single long jointed arm extended from the body and grabbed hold of a stone pier with three tendril-like fingers that were colored bright red, as if they had been dipped in blood. The machine began to climb out of the river. The pointed diamond legs impaled the stone, adjusting again for the new terrain. It moved like a centipede, legs rolling forward in a sequential motion as each one grabbed or pushed itself