//------------------------------// // Montepluma Part IV // Story: Feather Steel // by Cold Spike //------------------------------// Several Years Ago “I’d like to apologize to you, Feather.” The gryphoness sheepishly held the scissors back to her chest. “I, erm… well, you’re okay, right?” The colt glared at Galion and held one of his hooves firmly atop his head; against what precious little of his mane that remained. “That. Really. Hurt,” he seethed through gritted teeth. She sighed. “I really am sorry, I hadn’t realized just how… sensitive pony scalps are… or how easily the mane would cut. Erm, I’m quite used to treating Givvon’s head, and it is as rough as his table manners. Would you like me to try and even it out?” He silently shook his head, as she looked guiltily at the clump of red hair on the bathroom floor. “Maybe later, lots later,” he sighed. Placing his trusty hat back on his head, and giving it a little pat, he said,”I think I’ll just keep this on my head from now on.” She smiled and nodded. “That may be for the best.” She scooped up the discarded piece of mane and left to dispose of it, leaving the colt alone. Feather sighed, tilting his hat back to survey the damages in the mirror, but his ears perked up when Givvon called out to him. “Are the two a’ you are done in there?” Called his rough voice. “If so, get in here, youngin’.” He gestured over to his workbench when feather poked his head out. He sat there in front of the broken music box, “we’ve got work to do.” He nodded and scrambled back over to the bench. Feather gave a quick examination of the box and poked it a few times; a tiny spring shot out of it causing him to flinch, but the griffon simply chuckled. “Yeah, it’s pretty banged up, isn’t it? Found it in an ol’ junk yard.” The gryphon pulled over a large wooden box, giving it a shake with a confident smirk on his face. Metal parts clinked together, some shining, some dull under the light. “But, I believe we’ve got just the right amount of junk over here to fix ‘er up.” “Some of these look really… rusty,” Feather noted upon picking up a few gears right his hoof. “They should do fine, heh, doing a lot better than the few inside the box,” he noted, pointing to the biggest gear which had a few chips on its sides and missing teeth. It would likely never work as a gear again. “Yeah, we need to get rid of that rotten gear first, but you see that here,” he said, using one of his wings to point to a series of very short prongs sticking out of rotating cylinder. He made it move and it was then Feather saw the damage. “It’s missing, um… whatever those things are,” he said, pointing to the only smooth surface in the box. The only surface in there that shouldn’t be smooth. “I don’t know what the heck they’re called either,” the gryphon confided, “but those little dots that aren’t there right now rub against the comb here determine which tine gets plucked. Which makes a specific tone. Thankfully, the comb is fine, we just need to do some repairs on the drum here, and make some new bumps.” he said and started rummaging around in the box. “And replace the gear?” Feather asked. “Yep, definitely. Though to even get going, we’ve gotta get a few screws out.” The colt squinted his eyes and could just barely make out a few sets of the tiniest screws he’d ever seen holding something together; they, like the gear, looked severely rusted up. “Right, grab that screwdriver and try to get those out. You may have to really push, though, so be careful not to damage the box.” Feather nodded and spent the next five minutes of his life trying to pry out the rustiest screws in existence, and he nearly ended up snapping pieces off the box, twice. “Careful!” “S-sorry,” Feather stammered nervously. The griffon smiled and took a deep breath. “It’s fine, just take it easy.” Feather nodded. The griffon watched the young colt work, his eyes never blinking and his intense focus never once wavering. He removed the final screw, then placed them in a neat pile. “Good, now comes the really tricky part: assessing the damage. Kind of difficult to do if you don’t know how they work,” he, noted and the colt had to agree for he’d never seen the insides of one. “Uh, what’s that?” he asked, pointing to a long thin line of what seemed to be a tiny mesh of metal, almost shaped like a comb. “Oh, it’s the comb you were talking about earlier.” “That’s the comb,” Givvon agreed with a nod, “it brushes along side the cylinder here and there’s supposed to be teeth that do this.” He carefully plucked a tine with the very tip of his claw, and a slightly buzzy sound rang out. “Sounds like this may be loose. Hmm, at least it isn’t damaged. Those combs are made out of spring steel, and can be hard to make.” He took the screwdriver from Feather and gently removed the comb. “Well, look at this.” Feather leaned in, seeing a new bit of damage and slowly nodded. “That doesn’t look good.” “Exactly. That’s a soundboard. It’s a stiff piece of hard wood or metal that vibrates along with the tines, making them a little louder. That crack is making it buzz, but thankfully, we have a solution for that.” he said and gave a few old looking boxes along the back of the bench gentle pats. “What are those?” He pried open one, revealing an ugly mesh of metal and gears. “Other music boxes, far more broken than the one we’re trying to repair. I salvage parts from them when I need to. This one’s already given up its comb, but it still has a nice mahogany soundboard.” “Oh… okay. Um, is anything else wrong with it?” “Yes, but one step at a time, now.. “ he muttered. Keeping the box with soundboard for himself, he took three of the other boxes and placed them in front the colt. “Start pryin’,” he commanded with a chuckle, “we need drums.” Several days and several dozen music boxes and gizmos later, the colt soon found himself a small break down in the workshop. “Where’d he get off to… ah! Oh…” the griffon muttered quietly, having just noticed that Feather had fallen asleep at his desk. “Hmm…” He glanced over at a stack of old moving blankets, and quickly draped one over the slightly shivering pegasus. Then he turned and stopped in his tracks. Sticking just out of his saddlebag was the colt’s rather strange device. He took a nervous glance at Feather and, making sure he was still asleep, he shrugged and carefully laid his bag, and the device, on a nearby workbench. “What is… oh sheesh,” he said as the colt’s felt strap alongside his bag tore off. “I’ll have to fix that before I do anything else,” he said with a nod. It took him quite a while, as sewing was different work than he was used to. The softness of fabric just made things so hard sometimes compared to wood or metal. But, eventually he made a tight job of stitching it back on. With that out of the way, he was able to pick up the colt’s device and set it down to take a look. “Now… what’s wrong with you,” he muttered. Years of engineering experience told him that something like it was going to be deceptively simple; easy looking on the outside, but near impossible to decipher on the inside without a lot of study. The first thing he tried was lifting the wings, which did fully extend, but some of the synthetic-based metallic feathers were loose or out of place. He grabbed a screwdriver to tighten a few of them, then used a small hammer to gently get some to be straighter while making sure they stayed firmly in place once they were fully extended, or put back in the right order once the wing was retracted. “Right, seems loose, but tight enough… heh, but that was the easy part. Time for the guts,” he announced and pried open the main door to take a peek inside. His eyes widened. “Oh, boy…” he murmured. The very first layer of the tiny gears and systems seemed leaps and bounds ahead of anything he’d ever worked on. Possibly beyond anything in the gryphon territories. Behind it laid bare several integrated magically laced circuits, along with a strange chamber that did only the Creator knew what and plenty of other wires, more gears and some sort of shifting system usually only seen on complex steam engines or airships. Frankly, the whole thing scared him to the bone. He studied the insides for the next twenty minutes, writing down notes and making tiny drawings of his own, before finally taking a small break. “If I didn’t know any better, I swear this thing was actually meant to make that youngin’ over there fly… but that would be… how would he even control the wing? I… it doesn’t make any-” he stopped talking when his claw idly brushed alongside something on the very bottom. A spring-loaded door shot open, revealing several tiny spike-shaped objects began to extend out of the side, opposite of the wing. When they were finished, they shined dully in the electric light while he stared at them, bewildered. What could their function be?. “Hmm…” he scratched a few times under his chin, deep in thought. After examining the first spike under a microscope, he could spy tiny networks of red ruby rock all linked together in an odd spiral shape which ended back in the machine. “What are you…” Givvon slumped back into his seat and sighed, shaking his head. His eyes caught sight of something in the bag and he began to rummage around. “Hmm, looks like a notebook.” It was, and it was lined with the same fine felt of Feather’s bag. He noticed that it certainly seemed important enough to keep around. He flipped through it several times until his eyes landed on a page in the back which seemed brand new and unhindered by any wear and tear. It explained in great detail what the spikes were for, their function, purpose and just why they had to look so dang menacing. As he read, his eyes widened in shock and horror. When he was finished reading, he glanced back over to Feather, who was now beginning to mutter something in his sleep. “This is… simply remarkable,” he said, his eyes widening for perhaps the sixth time in the last ten minutes. Sighing, he set the journal down near Feather and stood up with a quiet grunt. Taking one last glance back at Feather, he shook his head and waddled out, leaving him to sleep. Feather’s eyes suddenly shot open as he let out a silent scream of agony. He darted his head all about until he finally realized whatever had just been happening to him had all been a horrible dream. “Stupid nightmare…” he muttered. He blinked and looked over the desk with a quirked brow. “I didn’t take this out…” A horrifying thought occurred to him. “Did he…?” he tried to ask, but then heard a few voices in the other room. He heard Galion sigh and saw her vaguely shake her head from a distance. “It’s still his; did you see his wing? Or lack thereof! This wing of his may be his only hope to fly!” “Tough. Even if I had all my old buddies back with me and a hundred years I doubt I could understand that thing out there, whatever it is. It’s beautiful, amazing and a work of modern art. But it is beyond me, Galion.” Feather sighed, slumping against the door as he heard the griffon basically give up. Somewhere, in the back of his mind, he figured they wouldn’t be able to fix it here as he doubted very much they would understand something so unique. Still, to hear it uttered out loud was pretty disappointing. At least he did teach me something, he thought with an inward sigh. “Where did he even come by such a device?” “It’s a good question,” Givvon responded with a disgruntled grunt. “Makes ya wonder just where the little guy came from.” Feather’s eyes widened in shock as he clutched his bag protectively to his chest. His breathing became erratic while they talked on and on, oblivious to his presence. “Well, we could set him up here. I don’t think his, uh, father is coming along to get him… if there ever was one.” The conversation had wound down with the two seeming to agree on one thing: Feather was staying. “Oh, it would be awkward, but nice to have him around. I’m sure Feather would appreciate it,” she responded in kind, pointing out that Feather was clearly some kind of stray on his own, if that hadn’t been clear enough from the start. Feather hesitated for a brief moment, considering all that was said and their final conclusion to his fate. A place to stay…? he thought, nearly smiling. He tentatively took a step forward, when he suddenly remembered something. But it is beyond me, Galion... he thought in Givvon’s voice, a ton of bricks crashing down on his parade. He shook his head, figuring a permanent place to stay wasn’t the worst thing in the world and it would give him plenty of time to study his device. I’m sure he could figure it out, eventually… he thought, remembering all he had taught him so far. “Are you certain you have no clue how his device might be fixed? Givvon, you’re amazing with mechanics, I don’t-” Givvon raised a claw to stop her as he shook his head. “It’s pony technology. The magical steel and circuits inside have nothing to do with my devices. They’re practically a night and day difference,” he said with a sad chuckle. “Like I said, not in a hundred years. Heh, not unless I’d been born a pony,” he said as they both joined in a laugh. With a sigh, Givvon’s voice turned dark. “Still, I’m a little worried. Even in perfect working condition, that device would need constant maintenance. Anything that stores magical energy has the potential to discharge it. Not to mention the device’s intended purpose, Gallion! Flight! Could you imagine trusting one of my mish-mashed, cobbled together music boxes to keep you in the air? Because that is exactly what that colt would be doing.” There was a thump, as Givvon threw his claws on the table. “I want the boy to be happy, and fixing his device would do that, but he doesn’t understand the risk.” “Maybe he will as he grows older,” Gallion reassured him, taking his claw in hers. “And I’m sure he would test the device thoroughly before using it. You would see to that.” Givvon shook his head. “I’m not so sure it’s worth it.” Feather gulped and slowly backed away from the scene, surprised when they didn’t turn around from his noise. He shook his head and jumped up to a window while cracking it open. “I’m sorry,” he whispered into the room, almost considering leaving his apology on paper to be found, “you two, you were nice, but you’re wrong. I will fix it. I need to fix it.” He leapt Thankfully, the jump down wasn’t far, and he landed with a quiet thump. Shaking his head and sighing, Feather slunk off into the night. “Gallion, dear, I haven’t even told you about the spikes yet. Oh creator, those spikes. I truly hope I am wrong about them, about what they are meant to do.”