The King's Man

by Christopher G. Nuttall

  “I don’t know,” I said. The crowd was marching past Jude’s and heading down towards the shops. They didn’t seem concerned that the streets were completely empty. The shops were all tightly buttoned up. Rebecca’s shop was as dark and cold as the rest. I hoped she was safe. I still owed her an apology. “The crowd might turn nasty.”

  I felt my heart start to pound as we reached the far side of South Shallot. A low murmur ran through the crowd as they saw North Shallot, the Great Houses glowing in the bright sunlight. It looked like the promised land, a land forever denied them. The armsmen would confront anyone who looked as if they didn’t belong, arresting them or marching them out if they didn’t have a good explanation for their presence. I heard the mutterings get darker, the stewards starting to lose control. The crowd surged towards the next set of bridges, even though Louise was marching up the road. I hoped she’d have the sense to run if the stewards lost control. They had the authority, but not the power.

  “What?” Caroline looked up, sharply. “Something’s happening ...”

  I sensed it too, a moment later. A surge of magic ... for a moment of pure horror, I thought it was another infernal device. The entire crowd would be slaughtered in a heartbeat if someone detonated something like that in the midst of the march. Instead ... I looked up as a hail of spells crashed down on the marchers, spells of nasty compulsions along with childish pranks. Dark-clad figures appeared out of nowhere, flaming whips in their hands. The crowd howled, coming apart into an angry mob. I swore as middle-aged men charged the newcomers, screaming their defiance. They were going to be killed effortlessly ...

  Louise turned, casting a protective spell as two attackers closed on her. They slammed her to the ground, their magic holding her down. I ran forward, readying a spell of my own. The attackers turned, too late. I threw one of them into the river with a modified levitation spell, then punched the other in the head. His charmed mask provided some protection, but not enough. Louise stood, her eyes flashing murder. She hurled a nasty-looking spell past me. I turned, just in time to see it strike another dark-clad man. He staggered, then collected himself. Caroline blasted him before he could do more than glare at the three of us.

  “Get out of here,” I shouted at Louise. The mob was surging like a cornered animal. I saw people smash their way into a shop, either looking for somewhere to hide or simply maddened by the spells. Magic crashed from person to person, pushing them to the breaking point. Raw emotion lingered on the air. A person who didn’t realise he was under attack wouldn’t be able to protect himself. He wouldn’t know his emotions weren’t real. “Hurry!”

  A small girl fell to the ground. I cast a summoning spell, yanking her to me an instant before she could be trampled. She was crying as I caught her, then passed her to Louise. Two more attackers ran towards us, hurling dark magic into the crowd. I glanced at Caroline and stepped forward as more attackers appeared. Our magics blurred together as the attackers lashed into us. We fought by instinct alone, fighting as one. They outnumbered us, but they couldn’t match us. I smacked one down, muttering a charm that should have shattered his teeth. He staggered, face blank as he hit the ground. I’d smashed the potions capsule in his teeth. The others recoiled, giving us a chance to take the fight to them. I knocked the leader down with a charged punch, then threw another one into the river. I didn’t know if he could swim, but it didn’t matter. He was out of the fight, at least until he managed to get out.

  I caught my breath, looking around as more spells pelted down from overhead. There were people on the roofs, casting spells with dark intentions. I reached out with my magic, brushing against their wards. They were protected against my spells, but ... I summoned a gust of wind, blowing them to the ground. One of them didn’t react in time to save himself and hit the ground with a sickening thud. The others managed to land, too close to the maddened crowd. They were battered to death before they could defend themselves.

  Glass smashed, shattered windows hitting the ground. I cast a protective charm as I stared around, hoping the mob could be steered away from the bridges and back to Water Shallot. It looked impossible. Dark spells were still flickering through the crowd, driving them mad. I thought I saw smoke on the far side... maybe a building had caught fire. Magic crackled behind me as more attackers appeared, holding spellcasters. They raised and fired as one. Fireballs slammed into the mob, driving it back into South Shallot. I cursed as I mustered my magic and lashed out at them, my head starting to pound as I pushed my power to the limit. The riot was going to leave South Shallot utterly devastated. Anton and his fellows would have all the excuse they needed to crack down on the socialists.

  The attackers turned and directed their fire at me. Blood trickled down my nose as I held my wards, somehow deflecting the fireballs or exploding them before they could touch me. Fireballs weren’t difficult to handle, if you knew what you were doing. But they knew ... I felt their spells change, digging into my wards and tearing them open. I felt pain stab into my head, an instant before Louise’s allies blasted them. They’d come within seconds of killing me.

  Caroline caught my arm as I stumbled, nearly hitting the ground. “The guardsmen are coming!”

  I glanced up, forcing myself to ignore the worsening headache. A small army of guardsmen, wearing armour that would not have been out of place on a battlefield, was advancing across the nearest bridge. They were banging their staffs against their breastplates, the sound sending chills down my spine. The saner marchers, those not affected by the spells, were already backing off. I saw Louise urging women and children to run as the men prepared to fight the newcomers. A dark-clad figure pointed a spellcaster towards the guardsmen and let rip. I swore as the fireballs evaporated against their armour. They wouldn’t show mercy now. They thought they’d been attacked by the mob.

  “Fuck,” I swore.

  I sagged against the wall, exhausted. There were more guardsmen approaching now, ready to beat the mob into submission. The mob was girding itself to fight. I saw men picking up discarded weapons and readying themselves to use them. There were bodies everywhere, people injured or killed in the fighting. Men, women and children ... I stared numbly at a black-clad body, battered into a bloody pulp. Anton had sent him to die. I wondered, morbidly, who he’d been. A natural-born son? Someone who wanted to be important? Or merely someone too stupid to wonder about what he was doing. I was sure I’d never know.

  Caroline leaned next to me, casting a weak shield as the roar grew louder. I could hear people smashing through shop windows and terrorising the locals. Anton had succeeded, better - perhaps - than he’d intended. No wonder he hadn’t bothered to chase us when he’d escaped his custody. He’d already won. No one would listen to us, not after the riot. I turned, just in time to see a bunch of stewards run for their lives. I supposed they were the smart ones. There was no order now, no hope of anything but a bloody slaughter. I knew we should be running too. I just didn’t want to turn and run for my life. It would feel like I’d turned my back on everyone.

  Reality seemed to shiver. I looked up, sharply. A letterbox was glowing ... no, not glowing, it was ... I wasn’t sure what it was doing. It seemed more real than everything else, like a light in an endless darkness. I heard Caroline suck in her breath, ice washing down my spine as I realised it was an infernal device. Anton had pulled out all the stops. The rush of tainted magic would finish the riot, killing us as well as hundreds of rioters and guardsmen. Anton’s crimes would be buried forever. I could feel the magic coil through the air, readying itself to strike. And there was no time to run ...

  Without thinking, I threw myself forward and jumped onto the device.

  Chapter Thirty-Eight

  Magic - tainted magic - crackled around me.

  I could feel it burning at my wards, its mere touch threatening to corrupt every last one of my protections. It buzzed around me, alluring and repulsive in equal measure. I knew, even as I struggled to reshape my wards, that I might have made
a terrible mistake. We’d been taught how to channel magic at Haddon Hall, but this was an order of magnitude more powerful - and dangerous - than the spells we’d shaped and cast back there. And it threatened to overwhelm me. I felt as if I’d jumped into the middle of a ward network, without bothering to shield myself. My hair stood on end as the magic surged.

  No, I thought. The tainted magic was almost a living thing. I had a weird impression of a snake drawing back to strike. Magic itself seemed to be recoiling ... I felt as if I was on the edge of a great discovery, if I had time to look. That’s not going to happen.

  I reshaped my wards, tearing the device’s protective charms apart before they could shatter on their own. The magic surged forward, a terrifying blast of random magic - of tainted magic - that threatened to crush me. I’d heard horror stories of people caught up in magic storms. They emerged changed, if they emerged at all. The tribes that lived on the edge of the Desolation were people who could never go home again, or so I’d been told. The tainted magic had turned them into monsters.

  The magic boiled against my protections, then surged up as it found the easy way out. I breathed a sigh of relief, despite the burning sensation in my skin, as the device detonated. A pillar of tainted magic lanced into the sky. I thought I saw a bird fly into the magic and fall like a stone, but ... I couldn’t be sure. I might have been hallucinating. All that mattered was that the magic wouldn’t hurt anyone on the ground. There was no one in the sky who could be hurt.

  I sagged as the device spent itself. My skin itched terribly. I wanted to scratch. My legs gave out and I fell back, landing on the hard cobblestones. It was hard to see - my eyes hurt - but it sounded as if the riot had come to an end. The tainted magic would have sent everyone, rioters and guardsmen alike, running for their lives. I hoped I’d managed to save them. There would be no stopping the chaos if the awful magic had killed hundreds of guardsmen.

  A gentle hand touched my back. “Adam,” Caroline said. “Are you alright?”

  “No,” I managed. My voice broke. It was like being an adolescent again. “I feel ghastly.”

  I leaned into her touch as I fought to centre myself. My head was spinning so madly that I felt as if I was going to collapse to the ground, even though I was already on the ground. The ground itself was shaking, tiny earthquakes running through the cobblestones. I couldn’t tell if they were real or if I was just imagining them. The city wasn’t built on an earthquake zone. The buildings would be falling like dominos if there was a real earthquake. Or so I thought.

  Another blurry figure came into view. “Adam? What happened?”

  I started. “Sir Griffons?”

  My head span. Sir Griffons had been ordered out of the city. He couldn’t be here. But the voice was unmistakable. A trick? A trap? Or ... I felt my ring grow warm as Sir Griffons pressed his fingers to my forehead, muttering a charm. My vision started to clear. I looked up, half-afraid of what I might see. Sir Griffons knelt next to me, eyes grim. I smiled, despite everything. He was real.

  “You’re out of uniform,” he said. It took me a moment to realise he was teasing me. “Don’t try to move until you feel ready for it.”

  I looked down at myself. My tunic was in rags. The cloth itself seemed to have shifted and changed. My skin itched as I realised how close I’d come to death. Or mutation. I wondered, suddenly, what my father would have thought if he’d had a monster for a son. What would he do? Keep me? Or send me to the Desolation? It might be the kindest thing he could do. People weren’t kind to the different. And someone would certainly try to chop me up for potions ingredients.

  My mind was wandering. I centred myself. Again.

  “You came,” Caroline said. “What happened?”

  “We called Magus Court,” Sir Griffons said. “Called in a few favours. Convinced them to let us return, with reinforcements. We should have been here sooner, but ... someone over there” - he nodded towards North Shallot - “was stalling. I think they’ll be in deep shit when Magus Court puts the pieces together.”

  I wasn’t so sure. We still didn’t have any real proof, did we? Anton Bolingbroke would dismiss our accusations and then ... I shuddered. He’d slip back into the shadows and bide his time, waiting for the next chance to take power. Magus Court wouldn’t believe the charges without some very solid proof. Even if they did ... my blood ran cold. How many of them would secretly approve?

  “We don’t have any proof,” I muttered. “All we did was buy time.”

  I stumbled to my feet, leaning on Caroline as I looked around. A handful of Kingsmen had arrived and were directing operations, pointing the rioters back towards Water Shallot while keeping the guardsmen on the bridges. A small army of armsmen had arrived and were checking the nearby buildings for contamination, while carrying away the bodies and stacking them by the riverside. I tried to estimate how many people had been killed and drew a blank. Louise had led thousands of people across the river. I had no idea how many of them had stayed with her when the riot began. There was certainly no sign of Louise herself.

  She was escorting children back to the bridges, I thought, bitterly. She should have gotten out of range before it was too late.

  “It’ll just make things worse,” I said. “Who’s going to trust anyone after today?”

  “We’ll see,” Sir Griffons said. He smiled, as if he knew something I didn’t. “Don’t try to do anything. Just wait.”

  I looked down at myself. My chest was exposed. My skin was covered with an ashy webbing ... I shuddered, realising it was dead skin. It itched, terribly. I wanted a shower and a nice long sleep, but ... I stumbled forward, heedless of my orders. I wanted to help. I needed to help. I owed it to the dead I’d failed to save.

  Bitterness ran through me as I saw a handful of small and broken bodies. No one was going to trust again, not after this. Water Shallot would be restive for decades. Louise - or her successor - would have all the cause they needed to raise the mob. And South Shallot wouldn’t be much better. I saw a broken building being evacuated and scowled. The locals wouldn’t be happy. The entire city felt as if it was on the verge of a breakdown. I didn’t want to think about what might happen when shock and horror was replaced by anger.

  I glanced at Sir Griffons as he spoke briefly to another Kingsman. He was going to fail me. He was going to kick me out. And why should he not? I’d failed. I’d pushed the limits as far as they’d go - and a little further - for nothing. I’d failed to stop the riot; I’d failed to gather the proof we needed to arrest Anton and ... I’d failed. Hundreds - perhaps thousands - of people were dead, because of me. I hoped Caroline wouldn’t pay the price for my failings. I promised myself, silently, that I’d fall on my sword for her. She deserved someone better than me.

  A pair of healers checked me over, gave me a potion to drink and hurried away again. I watched them go, numb. They shouldn’t be wasting their time on me. Didn’t they know how badly I’d failed? I sipped the potion, grimacing at the taste. It would keep me alive, long enough for me to be dismissed. And then ... I looked down at the bloodstained cobblestones. What was I going to do with my life?

  “Look sharp,” Caroline said. “We have company.”

  I looked up. Lord Dirac was approaching, escorted by two men. An armsman ... and Anton Bolingbroke. I felt a surge of pure anger. My magic was low, but I could cast a killing spell at point-blank range. There were spells that would punch right through his wards and take him out. They’d cost me my life - they were rare, because they killed both the target and the caster - but I didn’t care. It wasn’t as if I had anything to live for. I’d failed. The best I could hope for was being dishonourably discharged.

  Caroline put her hand in mine. I glanced at her, then tried to concentrate. If I could cast the spell ...

  “The socialists tried to blow themselves up,” Anton said. I wondered, suddenly, if he recognised me. My face itched. If it was as ashy as my chest ... he might not recognise me. “Thankfully, your man managed to
save us all.”

  “Indeed,” Sir Griffons said, coldly.

  “We will, of course, push for the arrest of the remaining socialists,” Anton continued. “The guardsmen are already readying themselves for their mission. They will put Water Shallot into lockdown, then go house-to-house until the socialists have been rounded up ...”

  “Your authority has already been terminated,” Sir Griffons said. “Magus Court has rescinded your operational charter.”

  Anton blinked. Beside him, Lord Dirac was completely expressionless. It looked as if he wasn’t surprised. I wondered, suddenly, just what Sir Griffons had said to Magus Court. He trusted us - I thought - but our word wasn’t enough to convict anyone. Anton was a Bolingbroke. Magus Court would close ranks around him, the moment they realised he was under threat. They wouldn’t let outsiders dictate to them.

  I felt a hot flash of anger. “You did it,” I snarled. “You planned it all.”

  Anton’s eyes narrowed. He knew me now. “We do not have time for nonsense.”

  “You built the infernal devices,” I charged. Sir Griffons made no move to stop me. “You killed children. You tried to kill Prince Jacob. And here, you started a riot. Your people attacked the crowd and ...”

  “Bored and foolish young men.” Anton made a show of inspecting his fingertips, before turning his attention to Lord Dirac. “A tissue of lies, designed to cover their incompetence.”

  “Perhaps,” Lord Dirac said. His eyes bored into me. “Do you have any proof?”

  I swallowed, hard. “There are truth spells. And drugs ...”

  “The lad is a fool,” Anton said. “There isn’t a truth spell that cannot be circumvented by a powerful sorcerer.”

  Sir Griffons shot me a smile. “Adam. Are you still wearing your ring?”

  I held up my hand. “Yes, sir,” I said. “Why ...?”