Champions Battle for the Fate of the Future!: The Wild Finale of (Swords Versus Tanks Book 5) (8 page)

Jasmine beckoned them forward. "Stay on my left. Don't shoot unless I do." She led them deeper into the darkened library, putting the longship between them and the arguing couple. The sleek hull was perhaps ten metres long. At the prow, two snub-nosed wooden dragons all but nuzzled the library's back wall. Throw in a velvet rope and a plaque and it could have been a museum exhibit. She levelled her Stormgun and ducked under the carved snouts.

Sir Ranulph held aloft an oil lantern, which illuminated Maud like a spotlight.

Clad in a fetching chainmail mini-dress, the red-haired princess danced this way and that, one hand pulling out books at random, alternately dropping them on the floor, or stuffing them into a standard issue kitbag which hung over her shoulder. She held the other hand clutched to her mailed chest. Even at a distance, the fingers looked bloody and bruised. Had anybody thought to clean her up and apply a dressing? Now Jasmine looked properly, bruises blotched the girl's bare legs. A cold compress would have helped there too, and perhaps a massage to help her relax...

The knight looked fine, except that his clothes glinted wetly and there was a slight sag to his shoulders. The battle had taken its toll, but he had more life in him than a battalion of Elitist Stormwarriors.

Had they made love yet? Did they talk about her? Compare notes?

The Archbishop's gaze met Jasmine's and he raised his eyebrows. He looked like a smug toad, except that his wrists were bound and he had blood trickling from a fresh knife cut on his cheek. How had things gone so badly wrong that this monster was her ally?

With a mental shrug, jasmine drew breath and barked, "Freeze."

Sir Ranulph heaved the Archbishop around in front of him. "How good is your shooting, Colonel?"

Maud's eyes flashed like emeralds. "Hello, Jasmine."

"It's Field Marshal now," said Jasmine, addressing Ranulph. But facing the giant knight and the red-haired Princess, she'd didn't even feel like a soldier anymore.

CHAPTER TWELVE

A chill ran over Ranulph's skin. The world shrank to just the muzzle of Jasmine’s fat-barrelled gun. The other soldiers’ weapons would be lethal enough, but this monstrosity could rip off his arm, even had he been wearing runic armour. He forced himself to look her in the eye. "If you let us retreat, I will leave Grossi behind."

The Archbishop said, "Shoot! I am ready for martyrdom."

Jasmine cocked her head at her soldiers. "Not until I give the order."

"If Sir Ranulph falls, so does the lantern," said Maud. She laughed. "Those grimoires will make a fine pyre. Perhaps my fate is foreordained."

Without looking down, Ranulph nudged his mailed boot against the pile of rejected magic books. He would burn before he bled out. The sorceress had faced a similar death, but how did this give them bargaining power? Was this a hint that he should drop the lantern as a distraction, then attack? The Archbishop would make a fine shield, but a lot of bullets would be flying around. Maud's mail would be no protection and nor would his arrow charm.

The Archbishop coughed. "This knowledge has been gathered from the Four Quarters of the Earth. Surely you can see it must be preserved?"

"Preserved or
hidden
?" asked Maud, sounding like Albrecht when he found some hole in Ranulph’s reasoning like that time…

The Archbishop twitched against Ranulph's grip

Ranulph forced himself awake. There would be time to rest later — one way or another.Something was about to happen. He wriggled his toes, coaxing some warmth into his wet feet. He would even out the odds by attacking the Invader’s left flank, putting the soldiers’ bodies between him and Jasmine’s gun. He tensed his legs, then relaxed.

The broad shouldered woman's gaze flickered down, catching the movement. Her eyes narrowed and she adjusted her aim.

Ranulph grinned at her and remembered their fierce lovemaking on the airship. But he knew that when he moved, she would be ready. Whatever Maud's scheme was, he could only pray that it was more considered than her occult escapades.

"Strange," said Maud, her green eyes twinkling uncannily. "Wherever the White Brothers gather knowledge, the magic stops working. It cannot be due to their liberal application of Consecrations, because these fade unless maintained by sincere prayer. For example, the mumblings of bored nuns were not enough to keep me from using my grimoire in a convent — were they, Your Holiness? You remember my grimoire? The one you planted for me to find, so as to gain leverage over my father?" She interrupted herself to breathe.

Ranulph made little circles with his shoulders. Any moment now.

"Kill the harlot!" commanded the Archbishop.

Ranulph's eyes narrowed. Whatever happened, this was one man who would not see another day.

Jasmine shook her head. "I’d like to know what’s really going on."

"And, why have a Black Library in the first place?" continued Maud. "No good churchman would want to consult it." She blew on the face of the bookshelf, creating a billow of dust. "And none do. And yet, these books — and a mythical flying ship — all hidden where they cannot work… it seems so similar to the manikin in my invisibility charm, secreted where it cannot be seen."

"Close your ears, my children!" said the Archbishop. "She ensnares you with enchantment."

The soldiers exchanged glances.

"Not on consecrated ground," said Jasmine. "Even I know that much."

Maud giggled the way she always did before doing something rash. A smile flitted over Ranulph's cold lips. Albrecht had always accused
him
of having just such a "mad laugh". But, if his acts were invariably foolish, how was it that he had he survived thus far? In truth, he laughed whenever something complicated became as simple as a sword stroke, and because if he did not laugh, he would give way to fear and so fail. Was Maud any different? He would trust her to look after herself.

"Magic works by metaphor," said Maud. "Burn the manikin and my invisibility spell fails. Burn the library...?"

"Fuck me," said Jasmine. "This library is what's sitting on the magic."

Ranulph's temples throbbed. Could it really be so obvious? "That's why he's afraid of fire," he managed.

The Archbishop raised his head. "Yes. It
is
this library that keeps Necromancy out of the hands of crazed hedge sorcerers, murderous savages, and every spinster who owns books she should not," he said. He twisted to look over his shoulder at Ranulph. "Is that really such an ignoble purpose, Sir Ranulph?"

"He's a pompous bastard, but he has a point, Big Guy," said Jasmine, her gun still levelled.

Ranulph grimaced. He was here to help turn Maud into a proper sorceress, not to usher in a new age of Necromancy. When he made his move, he would hurl the lantern over the heads of the soldiers. If it shattered near the row of doors, the flames might not spread to the books. She could have the magic contained in her selected volumes, but the natural order would survive.

"Consider also," said Maud, conversationally, "what would happen were some heinous act of desecration to deconsecrate this place."

Archbishop Grossi yelped, twitched, then sagged to the ground. Maud's dagger projected from the small of his back like a sundial.

Wooden supports banged on the flagstones and, with a creak, the twin-headed dragonship rose from its chocks to float above the library floor.

The Invaders turned towards the sudden movement.

Jasmine eyes flashed in the lamplight and Ranulph remembered them wide and triumphant as her muscular body undulated under him.

In an instant, he saw how things would be under the Invaders. True, there would be shameless, fearless women who rutted and fought like men, and were all the more magnificent for it, but nobody would embrace Chivalry because the only individuals who would count would be the schemers and smooth talkers like the Archbishop. Yes, the West was already on the path to becoming the grey-liveried Egality.

Ranulph hurled the lantern directly at the face of the bookshelves.

Glass shattered, flame whooshed, and heat seared his cheek.

Something invisible buffeted Jasmine and twisted the great gun out of her hands.

Ranulph launched himself at his enemies.

They raised their weapons. Bullets plucked his sleeve, creased his hair, but none struck home — Ragnar's arrow charm now worked.

Ranulph's target greeted him with a bayonet thrust.

He slid past the tip, grabbed the hot barrel and slammed his free hand's heel into the soldier's chin.

A second bayonet slashed Ranulph's right bicep. Even as the pain blazed, he elbowed the gun aside and drove his left fist into the face of the next soldier — a petite blond girl who tumbled like an acrobat.

Just as an empty-handed Jasmine turned back to the fray, the third levelled his gun.

Ranulph slid past and palmed the barrel to the side. It went off with a thunderclap. He pivoted in, kneed the soldier in the belly and stepped over the groaning man.

The last soldier abandoned her weapon and ran.

Ranulph let her go.

Jasmine’s hand dropped to her dagger. Behind her, the defeated soldiers crawled or limped away. There was no sign of Maud, but the flames now licked at the stone vault. Books on the fringe of the flames hissed and steamed, and the fire spread.

"So, you
are
tough without the tin cans," she said. "Do we have to fight?"

Ranulph shook his head. "Duty would force me to draw Steelcutter. You would have the honour, but I the victory."

Jasmine stepped closer, the firelight dancing in her big eyes. She cocked her head at the burning books. "This is going to fuck up your world. Let me have the fire put out."

Ranulph put his hands on her hips, and remembered the scent of her perspiration-drenched skin. He laughed. Maud must be watching from somewhere. "I have seen your future." The smoke clawed his throat and he coughed. "I prefer mine."

"But you don’t know what it holds."

Ranulph laughed. "I trust to God and steel." And Maud.

She laughed. "Fucking knights!"

He kissed her on the lips and slipped his hands under her grey liveried tunic to find the soft skin of her waist.

Jasmine threw her muscular arms around him and clamped her body to his. "I have more people coming," she said.

He kissed her again. This time she kissed him back and they stood, smoke swirling around, the heat from the burning books warming their bodies.

A crash reverberated through the library from the doors. The draft from the open doors whipped the flames into an inferno. Shouts and footfalls told Ranulph that reinforcements had arrived. Ragnar's arrow charm would not help if all these new soldiers took the time to aim properly.

Ranulph disentangled himself. "Go home Jasmine. You cannot win now."

"I —" She coughed and waved aside the smoke. "Come on Big Guy. Give me your parole. Let me look after Steelcutter."

"Ranulph — Now!" Maud’s voice, from the
Dragon Twins
. The legendary longship slid between the shelves of burning books. It picked up speed towards the entrance, pitching and rolling as if wallowing in the shallows of an exposed beach.

Ranulph grinned at Jasmine then sprinted after the
Dragon Twins
, mailed boots feeling like bricks.

Bullets whined past and he took longer strides, leaping over fallen books. Heart hammering against his ribs, he caught the vessel’s rail and leapt. He glimpsed volumes scattered the length of the deck, then flopped onto the planking.

No longer invisible, Maud stood at the steering oar, short mailcoat shimmering in the firelight, long legs braced. With a peel of laughter she leaned forward. The vessel picked up speed. Her red hair billowed behind her and she whooped.

#

Jasmine bellowed, "Stop them!" As she sprinted after the flying longship, she repeated the order loud enough to hurt her throat.

Soldiers spun and fired through the smoke, but the unnatural vessel swept on through the burning library. It dipped, squealed over the flagstones then crashed through the leftmost pair of doors. An answering crash came from behind Jasmine – a section of shelving had collapsed. Smoldering volumes covered the floor like a lava flow.

One of them had the Tolmec Dancing Earth Fish god on the cover.

Jasmine reached for it but tripped. She stumbled, leaned back to right herself.

A spasm went through her chest as if the Tolmec tattoo were trying to tear itself free.

Jasmine skidded and fell backwards. Her foot caught the Tolmec volume and flipped it high into the smoky air.

The book crashed into a burning bookcase and vanished in a shower of embers.

As Jasmine righted herself, the priestess's voice echoed through her memory: "
You are chosen to do the will of the Dancing Earth Fish.
"

Thanks to Jasmine, the Tolmecs had their magic back and there was no way of taking it away again.

Jasmine grabbed a sergeant by her lapels. "People down..." She coughed. "... back there. Rescue. Bucket chain. Save what's left of the books." Then she pushed through milling soldiers and out into the rain-battered Lower Courtyard.

It was full of tanks and infantry. Tank Commanders, Carbineers, even Security Workers with shotguns, squinted up into the icy downpour and filled the air with light and lead.

Trailing streamers of tracer, pinned by tank searchlights, the flying dragonship spiralled up between Holy Mount's high walls while Maud’s hair streamed like a comet tail from where she stood at the steering oar.

It reached the parapet then dropped down on the other side of the wall.

Muzzles lowered, and the din of gunfire gave way to the storm's continuous thunder.

Jasmine wove between soldiers and vehicles, took the steps to the parapet in a dozen long bounds, and leaned out between the crenellations.

Writhing worms of lighting infested the rumbling clouds, spilling coruscating phosphorescence over Holy Bay. At the far side of the natural amphitheatre, little figures streamed away into the coastal pass – the native army falling back on Middleburgh.