Champions Battle for the Fate of the Future!: The Wild Finale of (Swords Versus Tanks Book 5) (7 page)

BOOK: Champions Battle for the Fate of the Future!: The Wild Finale of (Swords Versus Tanks Book 5)
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The tank backed up and surged forward again. The driver whooped and the ironclad lumbered over the shattered gates and into the streets of Holy Mount.

There was no sign of the big knight. However, arrows rained down to ping off the roof of the tank. Jasmine sighed and reached for the mike.

#

The cesspit stench of death blended with the reek of incense to form an overpowering miasma.

Ranulph fought not to gag.

The White Brothers lay scattered like bloody dressings on the floor of a surgeon’s tent. The nearest still clutched his longsword. Ranulph hooked an armoured toe under his shoulder and flipped him. A young, open face smiled up at him. The lad's blade lay unused, edge as perfect as the day it was forged.

Ranulph rounded on the Archbishop. "Without runes, a single swordsman counts for nothing."

Grossi flinched against Osmund, Thorolf’s lieutenant, then seemed to compose himself. The housecarls jingled past to take up a defensive position at the Holiest House's entrance.

The cleric said, "Does the master craftsman care if the hammer dislikes sharing its toolbox?"

"Splendid retort, Your Holiness," said Maud, "from one standing in his own piss." She drew her long dagger and probed the air in front of the fat cleric’s right eye. "Hold him firm."

Thorolf glanced at Ranulph for confirmation.

Ranulph coughed. "Lady Maud — "

"What?" she said. "He planned to burn me alive. He offered me to his mercenaries to fuck to death – or have you forgotten?"

Ranulph flushed. "I... Um..."

"Do it," said King Edward. "He is a traitor and should face worse."

The sorceress drew the knife down the Archbishop’s cheek. Blood trickled from the cut. "Direct us to the Black Library."

The Archbishop’s jowls warped into a parody of a smile. The red liquid flowed over his lips and dribbled down his chin. "But of course. Proceed out of the West Entrance, down the cobbled road, and enter through the Great Courtyard."

From the far end of the Holiest House came the rattle of the Northmen’s guns. Ranulph chewed his lip. It was one thing to hold the building for an hour, another entirely to fight through all that open ground.

"Sir Ranulph, if you surrender now," said the cleric, "I will find you a place in the new order –
my
new order, that is. You could help shape the future, ensure that some outlet for individual prowess remains. I had considered instituting a gladiatorial games, no doubt you will want to put your ‘chivalric’ stamp on that."

"Torture will yield only lies," said Ranulph. "Sir Tom?"

The lad jerked. He smiled wanly. "I don’t like knives."

Ranulph took his arm and turned him to face the airship and away from the bleeding cleric. "Can you recall a shortcut? Perhaps some sort of secret passage?"

"It was a long time ago…"

"The library is under our feet," said Maud, twisting awkwardly to sheath her dagger with her good right hand. "I can
feel
it."

Ranulph caught her expression. She meant it. The girl must sense the unseen world the way he did the play of swords. "A petard," he said. "We shall blast our own entrance."

Tom drew up his head, suddenly alert now he had a problem to solve — Ranulph knew the type. "I'll find some demolition charges — "

"No!" The Archbishop thrashed against Osmund's grip. "Do not further profane the Holiest House — there is a private stair." At a nod from Ranulph, the Northman released the cleric who picked up his soiled skirts and waddled over to the wall next to the High Altar. Grossi shifted a golden candlestick and fiddled with a carving of St Guthrum. His fat fingers probed the martyr's exposed lungs and, with a clunk, the full-size sculpture swung away from the wall. Behind it lay the head of a cobweb-wreathed spiral staircase. He ducked under the threshold, but Osmund hauled him back and bound his wrists. Ranulph gauged the entrance and frowned.

King Edward took a step forward. Ranulph put a hand on his breastplate. He held out his arms. "Your Grace. Sir Tom. If you would help me out of my armour — that stair is narrow and low." They pulled off their gauntlets and set to work. "Your Grace," said Ranulph, as they unbuckled his cuirass, "you must stay and command here. If the gunstones run out before we return, have Sir Tom pilot you to where you can rally the army. Treat my Housecarls well."

“But I’ve never flown an airship…” protested Tom of Fenland.

“You’ll manage,” said Ranulph. He fingered the arrow charm he had taken from Ragnar’s body. In this consecrated place it would provide no protection, but it made him feel that his friend was watching him.

King Edward strapped Steelcutter onto Ranulph's hip. "How can I repay you?"

Ranulph brushed mud from the youth's shoulder to reveal the gilded shoulder plates. "If I don’t come back, put the Dacre Wargear in a cave or cellar – anywhere with natural rock." He unhooked one of the huge lanterns — a big oil burning lamp with glass panes.

"Careful with that," said the Archbishop. "Books catch fire easily, you know."

"So do vestments," said Ranulph. "You first."

"I consider your veiled threat a jest," said the Archbishop, setting off into the depths. "After all, you protected me from the witch."

Without turning his head, Ranulph said, "Lady Maud, I think His Holiness will be sufficient a chaperon. Would you care to join me?"

The sorceress laughed and fell in behind him. "Don't worry, I still have the dagger." Her mailshirt jangled as she took the stairs. Ranulph twisted to look up at her. The armour barely came half way down her thigh, leaving most of her long legs bare. The gloom hid the bruises and mud, so that the steel rings only made her seem the more soft and delicate by comparison — which was about all it was good for. Shorn of runic magic, the mail would be even less use than it had during the battle. "Actually, you should go back, Milady."

"What?"

The Archbishop's footfalls dwindled down the stairwell. Ranulph hurried after him. "Hitherto, I have led you out of danger, not into it," he said.

"You would not say that to Jasmine."

"You are not a soldier."

"And you are not a sorcerer," she said. "And this raid was my idea. It is I who lead, if only from behind." She laughed then cut herself off with a yelp. "Ribs hurt."

The Archbishop halted before a wooden panel. "You shall have to unbind me so I can work the catch. Or perhaps you can squeeze past?"

"Permit me a moment with which to deduce his scheme," said Lady Maud.

"Uncovering cunning schemes is one of my many knightly accomplishments." Ranulph booted the cleric between the shoulder blades.

With a scream, Grossi crashed through the panel and landed in a heap of books and splinters. A metal blade chopped down and grated to a halt inches above the prone man's ankles. The Archbishop whimpered. Ranulph stepped over him and caught the distinct sheep-pen smell of badly kept parchment.

The oil lantern pierced the darkness and threw a bull's-eye of light on a wall of books. Ranulph cast the beam this way and that. The bookshelves towered to the vaulted ceiling. "Your grimoires, Milady."

The sorceress slid past and her warmth seemed to pass right through his damp arming jacket. She followed the light to where it played over the shelves. The fingers of her good hand scuttled over the spines, dislodging clouds of dust. She tilted her head sideways, brushed the hair from her eyes and read out. "
Fertility Rituals of the Treebrand Islanders Volume Five of Twelve
… " She strode off down the aisle.

Ranulph stooped and caught the Archbishop's wrists with one hand. He hauled the fat cleric to his feet and gave chase. "Make haste, Milady," he hissed.

"I am… I am. But this is all rubbish.
Chicken Divination Techniques of Newark Cattle Herders
! Very useful indeed — I do not think." She turned the corner at the end of the aisle. "Oh! Not exactly what one expects in a library."

Ranulph caught up with her.

Two red-gold dragon heads grinned down at them, wicked white teeth bared as if to nip at their faces. The effect would have been all the more impressive had not a skin of dusty cobwebs softened their scales.

Ranulph patted their entwined necks and swept his lantern down the smooth lines of the marooned longship. It was as short-keeled like a river boat and runes frosted every inch of planking. "So, that's what happened to the
Dragon Twins
."

"Look!" Maud brushed cobwebs from the face of a shelf. "
Earth spells of the Tolmecs

Ebon’s Book of Perilous Summonings and Divers Cantrips of Doubtful Safety
."

"More books than we can carry," said Ranulph.

Maud hauled the first volume from the shelf and rested it on her injured arm. She thumbed through the pages. "Hmm, I have neither the time nor inclination to build a pyramid, even one that flies." She tossed it on the floor. The spine split and Ranulph recognised the Tolmec Dancing Earth-Fish god on the cover.

Maud stuffed the second book into her looted shoulder bag. The third joined the first on what became a rapidly growing pile of rejects. "Don’t worry, I shall make all due haste."

Gunfire echoed down the stairwell.

"Her lust for the unnatural will doom you," said the Archbishop. "Truly — "

"We do not have long," said Ranulph loudly to cut him off.

"Don't you think this is important?" shot back Maud.

Ranulph took a deep breath. "Two books will suffice. Or three."

"Really?" She started towards the other shelf. "Then I must consider carefully. Perhaps I should re-examine those books of folk wisdom? Chicken divination might be useful to the cause of Chivalry."

The Archbishop laughed. "How fickle is woman!"

 

CHAPTER ELEVEN

 

Jasmine barely felt the bump as her tank smashed through a second gate. Twin engines roaring, tracks rattling and squealing on the wet cobbles, it continued its upwards spiral through the Holy Mount complex.

A column of well-armed White Brothers emerged from the rain, sodden surcoats plastered to breastplates, long spears on the shoulder.

As the tank overtook them, she switched on the loud hailer. "We've come to help."

The Archbishop's men bunched then split like a flock of sheep. Several tried to cross the tank’s path and vanished under the hull.

Jasmine winced. "Repeat. We have come to help."

More arrows pinged off the armour plating. Jasmine flinched back in her chair. None of them would be magical in this place. She returned to her vision port.

The monastic buildings formed an artificial canyon, blocking her view of the airship. How long would it take Maud to unleash the sorcery? "Faster."

The tank cornered and the tracks squealed, then the port turret banged into something. The driver brought them back on course then replied, "
Fuck off, Field Marshal!
"

Jasmine laughed. "Sorry. Just do your job."

The tracks crunched over a third gate. Just one more turn of the helter-skelter road would take the tank to the main entrance of the Holiest House. With no magic to protect them, Ranulph’s men would be dog meat – if Jasmine was in time. She might even be able to persuade the big guy to surrender before Mary Schumacher turned up with reinforcements. After that, things would get messy.

The tank’s headlights swung across the Lower Courtyard, illuminating the surprised faces of hundreds of the Archbishop's billmen.

"Halt." Jasmine switched on the loudhailer and repeated her message.

As if they had not heard her, the white-surcoated men-at-arms fled up the ramp, men pushing and shoving to put the bodies of others between themselves and the tank. Between them they managed to totally block the way.

"Bugger."

"
I could just... you know,
" said the driver.

Jasmine shook her head. "Wait."

The courtyard emptied and the headlamps now shone on the three sets of double doors belonging to the basement of the Holiest House. A signboard returned to her like an old photograph:
The Mysterious Black Library Reputed to Contain Works of Evil as Consulted by the Notorious Archbishop Grossi and...
She completed aloud, "...the Thrilling Adventure of Entering the Cathedral via the Secret Passage."

Jasmine ordered, "Pull up against those doors — tight as you can. See if you can bump one open — " More arrows clanged on the hull. " — without making it too obvious."

Reversing and wheeling, the driver deftly brought the tank at a slight angle alongside the middle entrance. He twitched the throttles in opposite directions and the port turret slammed into the wood. He switched off and, without using the intercom, said, "That should do it, Field Marshal."

"Get your carbines, folks!" Jasmine unhooked her Stormgun. "We're going in the back." She led the way out of the port turret hatch. The double doors were built to open outwards, but the tank had snapped the big iron lock right out of its housing. It was easy to lever one leaf open and slip inside.

Raised voices greeted her. A pool of light back-lit — Jasmine blinked — a small Northern dragonship marooned in the middle of the Black Library, which was otherwise as she remembered it, except that books now filled the two great stacks running the length of the Cathedral's undercroft.

The sound of automatic fire seeped in from somewhere — the sound of GCDs doing their grim work. She frowned. They were supposed to be foolproof, but somebody — Tom? — had to have shown Ranulph's people how to use them.

More automatic fire.

The rattle must be echoing down a stairwell connecting the library to the Cathedral proper. The secret passage was already open.

The voices became distinct.

"A moment more, damn you!"

Jasmine's heart leapt. That was Maud.

"See how the sorceress lacks even the feminine virtue of Meekness and Obedience!"

That was Archbishop Grossi.

"God's teeth,
now
, Milady! Or shall I carry you?" Ranulph's voice, clipped and to the point. Jasmine's mouth went dry. If she got the drop on them, they'd be POWs — better than the alternative. She turned to address her half-dozen Egality tankers. "We..." she began, then realised she was sounding breathless. Could she do it? Ranulph would say that depended on God's Will. Lose the religious garbage, and it came down to — what would happen would happen, there was no point in getting worked up about it.

BOOK: Champions Battle for the Fate of the Future!: The Wild Finale of (Swords Versus Tanks Book 5)
2.99Mb size Format: txt, pdf, ePub
ads

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