The Arcanist (59 page)

But if on the other hand you let her go and run for the door when I ignite the powder, you will live. That is the only way you will survive. And your army of these things dies either way.”

“I'll give you five seconds to decide whether you want to live or not. Five.”

It was a gamble. A pure game of determination and daring that Simon would have excelled at. A game that Edouard would never have played. But it was the only chance he had to save Kyriel. So not only did Vesar have to believe he would do it. He actually had to do it.

“Four.”

“No!” Vesar yelled at him, his eyes wide with worry. But Kyriel looked surprisingly calm.

“Three,” Edouard continued, determined to go through with the madness.

“Stop it!”

“Two.” It was difficult to sound strong and confident, but Edouard somehow thought he managed it.

“Please!”

“One.”

Edouard reached the end of his count and then taking all his courage in his hands did exactly as he'd said he would. He fired and the pistol spat a streak of fire at the powder, setting it on fire.

After that things almost froze.

The powder was burning. Vesar's eyes were fixed firmly on it even as he continued to hold Kyriel tight. And the choice was entirely his. He could have cut her throat and died. Or he could have run and lived. The one thing he couldn't do was stop the fire as it raced along the powder trail. He couldn't save his army of demons. Meanwhile the one thing Edouard couldn't do was run. Not until Vesar had made his choice. So somehow he kept his weapon pointed straight at Vesar's head and waited as the powder trail burnt.

They all lived or they all died. That was their choice.

For what seemed like ages Edouard thought they were all going to die. The fire was half way to the keg. They had scant seconds at best. And Vesar was still hesitating.

Then suddenly he screamed. He pushed Kyriel toward Edouard and made a run for the door. Which left Edouard with just enough time to catch her as she staggered towards him and give chase. To run, half carrying her, as he had never run before.

They made the door and the front yard; just. But after that the world exploded. There was fire. Flames were everywhere and they turned the entire world yellow and burnt him even through his clothes. There was sound that wasn't really sound. He couldn't hear it with his ears but felt it with his entire body. And then there was a blow. He couldn't describe it any other way. But it felt as if a giant fist had smashed into his back, picked him up and sent him flying over the front yard and out into the middle of the cobbled street. It sent Kyriel flying too as she was still in his arms.

After that things became confused. He landed hard, crashing down in the cobbles and then rolling helplessly along them. He lost sight of Kyriel. Pain ripped through him as his bare skin was scraped off.

For a while he just lay there in the road after that, wondering what had happened. He hurt – badly. In fact it felt like he was on fire. His ears were roaring non-stop. There was blood everywhere, but particularly in his mouth. But even then a part of him knew that he had to get up. That he had to run. And that he had to find Kyriel. Before the soldiers found her.

He tried to get up. He tried to make it to his feet. But his arms and legs weren't working quite right and what he ended up doing was rolling on to his side. When he did though, it was to see veiled soldiers running for him. They were still a long way off but they were running and they were armed. When they reached him he knew they would kill him.

Edouard started hunting for his guns, wondering what had happened to them, only to discover them still in his hands. Then he took aim at the soldiers and started firing.

He hit some of them, somehow. Or at least he watched as some of them fell down and the rest went diving hurriedly to the sides of the street, and for a moment he felt good. Until he realised he’d emptied his weapons. Until he started seeing sparks on the cobbles nearby. It was a while before he understood that they were musket balls smashing into the street. But when that finally penetrated his tired brain he knew he had to run.

Edouard tried to get up again and this time he succeeded. Fear was lending him strength if not coordination. Once he got up he spotted Kyriel. She was ahead of him in the front yard of the warehouse they'd been in before, yelling something at him. But he couldn't hear what she was saying. He couldn't hear anything at all over the roaring in his ears. And strangely she had a pistol in her hand and was pointing it at Vesar. He was ahead of him too. How had they all got ahead of him?

He shambled as best he could toward her, amazed by the way that the cobbles all around him seemed to be filled with flashes of light. The entire brigade had to be shooting at him. Only the range he guessed was causing them to miss. Though not all of them missed. Some of them hit him.

Edouard felt a sting across his legs as a ball of hot lead grazed him, as well as several impacts into his plate. But none of the hits were critical and somehow he made it the rest of the way across the street to her.

After he'd reached her though he couldn't stop. They had to move on. He couldn't hear what she was saying – he couldn't hear anything – but he could see the way that she was waving her arms around, urging him inside. So he did as he was told and stumbled into the warehouse.

Kyriel slammed and barred the door behind him and then started pushing him towards the back of the warehouse. She pushed Vesar too and that made him feel good. Edouard didn't like it when she pushed him around, but it was a little easier to take when he wasn't the only one. In fact he started giggling a little at the thought. For some reason it seemed funny. In fact the whole thing seemed funny.

Little by little things began to make more sense to him after that. They found the secret passage at the rear of the warehouse and made their way down it to the sewers. And the shock of the cold water on his skin when they reached them managed to restore a little clarity to Edouard. Not a lot. But enough to know that they had to keep going. It was time to leave.

No one followed them for some reason. He wasn't sure why. Surely the soldiers would have seen the secret passageway. But maybe, he decided a little while later, they had other things to do than give chase. Things like fight a war. That was lucky. Because he had no strength at all. Barely enough to keep one foot moving in front of the other. His weapons were empty and the powder in his horn was soaked. And he still couldn't hear anything over the roaring in his ears. It was slowly getting quieter, but only a little. At least the strange mania that had gripped him seemed to be holding back for a bit.

In time, maybe an hour or two, things got better. He started to find his thoughts again. To recover a little strength. Even to have some of his hearing restored so that he could hear Kyriel yelling at them – by all that was holy she could yell! But by the time that happened they were almost at the outflow and he didn't need to hear her to know what to do. The sight of the sunlight beyond the grate was enough to tell him that.

Edouard pushed on hard, finding a sudden burst of strength and soon the outflow was just in front of him and he thought it was one of the prettiest sights he had ever seen. Too pretty to hold back from, and so he dived underneath it and quickly found himself in the river beyond.

Bliss! The sunlight kissed his skin, warming the water in which he swam. The water was cold but so much cleaner than what he'd been wading through. And best of all no one was trying to kill him. It was as though all his cares had suddenly melted away and he was once more a carefree child swimming in a lake. He could have stayed there all day.

That wasn't allowed though. He discovered that when a pair of soldiers waded into the river, grabbed him by the arms and started pulling him out. They were rather insistent. Perhaps that was a good thing. The buoyancy of his clothing was failing and the weight of the plate was starting to weigh him down. It was becoming harder to float.

Soon he found himself standing on the river bank, feeling a little bit like his old self again. The bracingly cold water and the relief of knowing that his battle was over had returned something of his mind to him. Enough that he allowed himself to be led by the soldiers back to the encampment where people awaited him. Kyriel had to support him for most of the journey though. Every bone in his body was aching, crying out for sleep.

But one thing had to be done before he could rest. He knew it when he saw Vesar in front of him being escorted by the soldiers at gun point. And when he saw the princes standing up ahead of them, staring at them. They looked somewhat shocked. Not by him though. They were staring at Vesar. No doubt they knew him.

Eventually Edouard found himself standing in front of them – just – and being addressed. He couldn't quite make out what they were saying – the roaring in his ears was still too loud for that. But he knew enough to wait until they finished speaking.

“Your Highness. This is Vesar, advisor to the false king and leader of the enemy forces. He is a prisoner taken in battle. He needs to receive a fair trial and be heard on a matter of justice regarding his people.”

It sounded right to him even if his voice sounded a little as though he was speaking under water, and Edouard was pleased with himself. But at the same time he was starting to feel weak again. He missed the support the water had lent him and Kyriel had let him go.

Prince Edmond answered him but Edouard couldn't make out what he was saying. Only that it looked important and that he was waving his arms around quite a bit. So Edouard just stood there, trying to look as though he understood and bowing politely when he seemed to be done. The bowing though proved to be a mistake.

Edouard bowed just a little too low, and suddenly discovered that the grass was rising up to meet him. But it was soft and cool and when he met it he suddenly didn't want to move. Not even when hands started pulling at him.

Still, he tried to get up. He really did. But it somehow seemed that the harder he tried the worse it got. He was simply out of strength. And when the light started fading as well, that seemed only as it should be.

Chapter Fifty Nine

Marcus marched at the head of his soldiers as he led them over the remains of the wall and into Theria for the first time in months and all he could think was that here was where the battle would be joined. But it hadn't been. There had been a few skirmishes from the sides which his soldiers had quickly ended, but there was no army in front of them that he could see.

Where were the mechanical demons? Where was the army of monsters? They'd expected them both. They'd prepared for them. But there was nothing. All he could see were ruined buildings and an empty battlefield.

Still, they were in the city, standing on Wall Street, and there was only one thing to do.

“Form up and advance!”

He shouted the order at the men and others echoed it for him, and quickly he had an army standing with him instead of a rabble. That was good for them, but bad for the rock gnomes. They should have been there to greet them as they scrambled over the pile of rubble that had been the city wall. That would have been their best time to attack. But if they weren't going to that was fine by him.

After that he led them at a slow march, weapons at the ready, across the battlefield of ruins.

A hundred yards on they met their first resistance. A volley of shots rang out from somewhere ahead of them. A few of his men fell, but not many and Marcus would have guessed they weren't badly injured. Between the distance and the fact that they were wearing some basic armour, the chances of the shots being lethal were small. The rock gnomes however, weren't going to be so fortunate. In fact the Seven were going to punish them severely.

“Bring the cannon!”

Immediately he gave the order, a brace of cannon were wheeled forward and set up beside him, while he and a score of his best shots stood beside them with Edouard's four barrelled muskets in their hands, hunting for the enemy. Normal muskets might not have the range, but these did.

A few shots rang out from his men. They could just see the heads of a few of the rock gnomes bobbing up and down behind some of the piles of rubble as they reloaded frantically, and it was too good a target to pass up. A handful of those heads did not get back up again. But really, his people's role was to back up the cannon.

“Ready Sir!” The leader of the cannoneers called out to him when the cannon were loaded.

“Fire!”

A moment later the two cannon fired a wall of shot at the positions of the enemy, and the result was everything he could have hoped for. The broken walls that had been acting as barricades fell down, exposing the rock gnomes hiding behind them. Naturally they broke and ran. If they'd been smart or properly trained they would have dropped to the ground and crawled to safety behind something else. But they weren't smart or well trained and so they panicked. Marcus and his men quickly brought the fifty or so of them to the ground.

But fifty? How could it be only fifty? That was what Marcus didn't understand. There should be thousands of them. There should be mechanical demons everywhere. There should be an army of monsters. It didn't make sense. Had they all fled the city somehow?

“Reload!”

Marcus gave the order, knowing there was nothing else to do. This looked like being the way the battle would be fought. Skirmish after skirmish against handfuls of the enemy hidden in entrenched positions. There would be no meeting of armies on the field of battle.

So that was what they did for the next hour. They fired on each new position they found, flushed out the enemy and killed them, before advancing another score of paces. It took them that time to advance a hundred and fifty yards. But those hundred and fifty yards were covered with bodies. Mostly the enemy's, but also some of theirs.

Then a messenger came running toward him from the encampment with the news that his brother was alive and that Vesar was in custody. That filled Marcus with cheer, and not just because Edouard was still with them. But because it explained why they weren't facing the mechanical demons. Vesar, according to what Simon had told them, had been the one to raise them. And maybe he'd also been the one to bring the armies of monsters across as well.

Even as he was celebrating that wonder, another soldier came running with news, and this time from his own lines. They'd just crossed the enemy's former front lines and his soldiers were scouting the area looking for survivors. But instead they'd found something they hadn't expected. Civilians.

They shouldn't be on a battlefield. But they were. They had been found locked up in basements and back rooms. Chained and bound. And obviously in poor health after however long they'd spent without food. But they were alive. Exactly as the other survivors Edouard had found and released. And as he watched his soldiers freeing them group by group, Marcus couldn't help but feel a sudden surge of hope. Not only might they win this battle without too many casualties, but they might save some people as well. This could end up as a battle of liberation. They could actually save Theria!

“Search every house behind our front line, and free anyone you find. And then send them back to the encampment.”

Marcus gave the orders, knowing that this war was not going to be the one he had so carefully prepared for. Not anymore. Instead of an all out pitched battle it was going to be a long drawn out series of skirmishes, with their enemies hidden in buildings and behind makeshift barricades. And instead of being a single massive battle which would be won or lost in an hour, it would last for days.

But that didn't matter. What mattered was that they were going to win it. That they were going to rescue more of their people. That few of his men would fall to the enemy. And that Theria would soon be liberated.