“Put him down!” Josephine shouted.
“I intend to,” Ragget growled. With a grunt of effort, he hurled Edgar across the room, over the throne and out a western-facing window.
“EDGAR!” Josephine scrambled to her feet, her jaw hanging down. Edgar was gone!
“One down, five to go.” Ragget stepped over the trough of water and strode toward Josephine. Denton charged forward to block his way and was backhanded for his efforts. The stout guard’s head snapped around and he screwed himself into the ground and lay still.
“Two down, four to go.”
Josephine backed toward the double doors. Kylpin appeared by her side.
“I’m no match for him with my blade.” He shot her a sideways glance. “How are you with those knives?”
“Great,” she said. “On stage.”
“Excellent. I’ll go sit on the throne over there and watch you two fight.”
Ragget closed the distance between them.
“Stop!” Philson shouted.
Ragget raised his sword over his head.
“Stop!” Philson shouted again. “Or I’ll destroy your tome.”
Ragget hesitated. Slowly, he spun around. Philson stood on the platform next to the podium, and in one bony hand, he was holding a page torn from Ragget’s ancient book. In the other, he held his pipes. Josephine gasped. The one-time fat bartender looked more like a spindly scarecrow with too little straw. Philson blew a few sharp notes and the paper disintegrated.
A growling noise erupted from Ragget’s throat and he stalked back toward Philson.
“Not another step,” Philson demanded. He snatched the open tome off the podium.
Ragget hesitated again.
“Drop your sword.”
“No,” Ragget said. “I think you’re bluffing.” He took a step. “I don’t think you have the strength to do any more tricks.” He took another step.
Philson raised the pipes to his lips again. “Stop . . . or I’ll do it . . .”
“Look at you,” Ragget sneered. “You’re nothing more than skin and bones now.”
Philson blew two sharp notes. Nothing happened to the book. Ragget laughed. Garett immediately snapped out of his stupor though. Ragget rushed toward the platform. Philson dropped the book and backed away, furiously piping an old tune. The melody reminded Josephine of a great battle fought long ago. Without thinking, she drew her crossbow, aimed and pulled the trigger.
Bolt after bolt punched into Ragget’s back. He pitched forward, lost his balance, tripped on the edge of the water trough and landed face first in the grass. Garett ran past her toward the eastern windows.
“Where’s that little bastard going?” Kylpin snarled.
Josephine didn’t care. Her attention was solely on Ragget. The Yordician Lord climbed unsteadily to his feet as she pumped bolt after bolt into his back. His image shimmered and an odd bony protrusion which resembled a turtle’s shell suddenly covered his hide. Her bolts ricocheted away. Ragget stooped and picked up his book. Josephine continued to pull the trigger, hoping to find a soft target.
“Everyone,” Garett shouted, his voice sounding reedy and shrill. “Get DOWN!”
chapter 60
“Everyone,” Gertrude cried. “Climb the tower!”
Heat and smoke and screams of terror filled the mess hall’s main floor. Sweat poured down Tyran’s face. A couple of the male servants had tried to make a break for it out one of the shuttered windows, only to find their way barred by a raging ring of fire. Before the shutters could be closed again, an arrow took one of them high in the chest. He staggered backwards, coughing blood while the other secured the window.
Now, everyone moved toward the stairs. Tyran hesitated. What was the point? The fire would eventually find them, and even if it didn’t, Straegar’s men would. They were cornered, trapped, defeated. What good would it do them to climb all those stairs?
Alysea appeared out of the haze, grabbed his hand and pulled him along. In her other hand, she carried a bow and slung over her shoulder was a quiver full of arrows. “Stay with me,” she said as they climbed. “And don’t look down.”
With his options few, Tyran clung to her hand and did as he was told.
chapter 61
Garett hoped everyone did as they were told. Even Kylpin.
He harbored no ill will toward the sea captain. The man had lost everything. And if this last trick failed, he’d likely lose his life too. Garett couldn’t bear the thought.
It was the guilt that allowed him to push past the pain. His insides were raw. His nerves frayed. The remaining traps and shields were next to useless. He had no more charred wood chips and when he coughed, water came up. Water still sloshed around inside his belly too and dampened his clothes and boots and hair.
Water. Garett shuddered. He hated it with a passion, but there was something coming that hated it even more.
Fire.
He’d drawn most of the heat and flames away from the massive chandelier to off-balance Ragget’s spell and collapse the Hellgate and he’d released that pent-up energy against the Knights and the demonic squid-like creature leaving him nothing to use against Ragget. And then he remembered, Little Ryerton.
From the eastern facing windows, the fire raging across Little Ryerton looked like some sort of rampaging orange monster hunkering down to feed. It greedily devoured buildings and belched smoke and looked for more. Its hunger was insatiable.
And beautiful. Garett had to admit it. The destructive fire tugged at urges he’d long encouraged. And enjoyed. Come to me, he whispered. He stretched his hands out. Come to me.
The great fire ignored him. There was plenty to eat where it was.
I am a fire mage and you will heed my call, Garett tried again. But he was weak, and his summons was weak, and the great fire laughed at his weakness.
Yes, I am weak, he replied, so weak I am filled with water.
The great fire raised its head. Blue flaming eyes crackled with hatred. Burning hatred for the water all around it. The vast ocean to the east, the deep river to the south. Those waters were too great to overcome, even for the greatest of fires, but this water, the hated water inside the fire mage, this water could be destroyed. It must be destroyed.
The great fire gathered its tremendous strength and boundless fury and launched itself into the air. Like a fiery ballista bolt or a shooting star, it flew straight toward the water-logged fire mage, trailing a noxious cloud of smoke. Garett’s eyes widened as the great fire drew near. It was bigger than he thought it would be. Much bigger.
He doubted if Delila could have controlled something this large.
Fear swelled inside him and for once, he was happy to fall to his knees and vomit.
Moments later, the monstrous fire slammed into the side of Ragget’s Tower. The colossal building swayed violently to one side. Mighty fists of flames pummeled the domed ceiling as it surged through the room. The oil-filled chandelier exploded and tore free from its anchor. Lord Ragget screamed and threw up his arms but even his great strength was no match for the tremendous weight of the falling chandelier. The metal masterpiece smashed into him and thudded against the grassy platform. The floor cracked. Stone split. The water in the trough became an angry ring of steam. The platform tore loose, crumbled beneath the weight and sank out of sight carrying with it Lord Ragget and the flaming chandelier.
The momentum of the monstrous fire flung it out the far side of the tower where it tossed flaming debris for hundreds of yards into the garden below. Directly beneath it was the magical waterfall and the deep lake. Garett and the little bit of water still trapped inside him was quickly forgotten by the great fire. It found a more satisfying target to attack. Great clouds of white steam shot toward the heavens.
Garett sagged back onto his heels, exhaustion threatening to overwhelm him completely. His skin burned a bright red as the heat he’d absorbed leeched out of his body. The tower continued to rock back and forth, but already the swayin
g was beginning to lessen. Only the northern and southern walls of the throne room remained standing. Quite a few of the more solid columns had survived too as did the stairs in the outer room leading to the roof deck. The center section of the blue dome had collapsed with the chandelier and a good portion of the western ceiling gaped open revealing a bright blue sky. His gaze traveled over the debris-ridden floor and a ball of fear swelled inside his stomach. “Josephine?” he croaked. “Philson? Kylpin?” Blood leaked from his nose. “Where are you?”
He was answered by a couple of stone clattering to the floor nearby.
“Josephine?” he sputtered. His heart hammered wildly. “Philson?” He tried to stand but the room began to spin. “Kylpin?”
An explosion far below shook the tower again and Garett stumbled and fell. His head cracked against a brick and everything went black.
chapter 62
“Everyone get DOWN!” Garett shouted.
Josephine stubbornly pulled the trigger again. Ragget’s exposed hand looked like a soft target. The bolt punched through the back of his palm and lodged in the book’s thick cover. The Yordician winced. Was the poison she’d delivered straight to his chest spreading?
Was Ragget finally feeling pain?
Josephine’s excitement was short-lived. A strange crackling roar split the silence and the air around her grew painfully hot. Kylpin shouted something and grabbed her arm and pulled her down behind one of the thick stone columns.
A furnace blast of heat made her cry out and cover her face. It hurt to breathe, to exist. She wished she could burrow into the rock beneath her, to find relief from the pain. Abruptly, the heat lessened, as if a cool blanket had been tossed over her body. Josephine gasped. Was Garett doing something to protect them? The melody of his magic was foreign and faint, but she heard it play inside her head.
She squeezed her eyes closed as the bright orange-red flames tore through the tower. Even behind closed lids, she saw the brilliant light and felt the tremendous heat on her face. Garett’s shield held, if barely, and then it lifted, and the tower shook and a section of the ceiling collapsed and smoke and dust and debris choked the air. The droning inside her head sounded like a massive drum.
Faintly, she heard her name called.
“Here . . .” she tried, but she started coughing. Her lungs ached. Her tongue felt like a flap of dried leather.
“Josephine? Philson? Kylpin?”
It was Garett. He stumbled out of the haze. Somewhere far below an explosion ripped through the tower and the building lurched to one side. Garett lost his balance, fell and conked his head on one of the collapsed columns.
Josephine hurried to his side. “Garett?” She touched his cheek and jerked her hand back. His skin burned as if it were on fire.
Kylpin staggered up next to her and stood staring down at the fire mage. His bronze face was white with dust and streaked wet with sweat. “Is he alive?”
Josephine shrugged. “I can’t feel for a pulse. He’s still too hot to touch.”
“Good,” Kylpin said. “Let the bastard cook.”
“Kylpin, he just-”
The sea captain raised a hand, stopping her short. “I don’t want to hear about what he did to help us. I know. I just don’t want to hear about it. Not right now.”
Josephine nodded. She glanced around the ruined throne room. “Where’s Philson?”
“Here . . .”
The rail-thin man lurched out of the smoky haze. The right side of his gaunt face and his right arm was a brilliant shade of red and half of his right eyebrow was missing.
“And Lord Ragget?” Kylpin asked.
Philson jerked a thumb over his shoulder. “Last I saw, he . . . uh, uh . . . disappeared when the ceiling caved-in and the floor collapsed beneath him.”
“Is he dead?”
Philson’s bony shoulders shot toward his ears. “If he’s not, I can’t think of anything else we could . . . uh, uh . . . do to kill him.”
“We should find his body,” Josephine said.
Philson shook his head. “Can’t. When the floor collapsed, it . . . uh, uh . . . took out some of the stairs too.”
“You mean we’re trapped up here?” Kylpin said.
“No . . .” Garett muttered.
Everyone stared down at the fire mage. His red face was starting to look very pale, except for where he’d clunked his head and Kylpin had hit him. Those parts were swollen and turning brilliant shades of black and blue.
“The stairs are gone, Garett,” Philson said. “And your fire is . . . uh, uh . . . spreading.”
Garett sat up slowly. “I . . .” He frowned. “I can’t feel it right now.”
“I don’t care anything about that,” Kylpin said, his tone clipped sharp. “I just want to know how we’re getting out of here.”
Garett pointed toward the sky. “We need to go up.”
“Up?” Kylpin threw his hands in the air. “I think that fall scrambled your brain. We’re hundreds of feet above the ground already. We need to go DOWN!”
“Trust me,” Garett said as he climbed unsteadily to his feet. Josephine offered him a hand which he took. She winced. His palm was still so very hot. “Thank you.”
“Trust you?” Kylpin glared at the fire mage, his hands curling into fists again. “Trust you!”
Garett scrambled over a fallen section of wall and headed for the stairs. “I understand your hesitation, Kylpin, truly I do, and if I were in your boots, I wouldn’t trust me either, but there’s an airship anchored at the top of this tower. It’s our only chance for escape.”
“I saw no airship earlier,” Kylpin said.
“It can’t hurt to check,” Josephine said.
“Are you taking his side now?”
“I’m not taking anyone’s side at the moment.” She crept over to the gaping hole in the floor and stared down. Far below a massive fire raged uncontrolled. Even if Lord Ragget and somehow survived the crushing weight of the chandelier, and the dramatic fall through the center of his Tower, the fire had to have burnt him to a crisp by now. She thought she’d feel happy about his death, or perhaps some sort of relief now that he was gone, but all she felt was a bizarre sense of emptiness inside. The price for this victory had been high, too high, all things considering. The faces of all those who had been killed flashed before her mind’s eye. She lingered over Edgar’s. Once already she thought she’d lost him, only to lose him again . . .
Tears welled, and she swiped them away. Not yet, she told herself, not yet.
She gently put Edgar’s memory aside, but once it was gone, the faces of all those she’d killed surged forward to fill the void. She had never thought of herself as a killer before, but is that what she had become?
“I’m just looking for a way out,” she told Kylpin. “An escape from . . . everything . . .”
She turned her back on the hole in the floor and headed after the fire mage. Philson trailed behind her, searching his pockets for something to eat. Halfway up the stairs, Kylpin caught up with them.
“I’m glad you decided to join us again,” Josephine said, meaning every word.
“Had to,” Kylpin said. “If there is an airship up there, which of you three would know how to sail it?”
“You’ve . . . uh, uh . . . flown one of them before?” Philson asked.
“It’s a ‘ship’,” Kylpin said. “Sailing. Flying. How different can it be, my friend?”
The four stood on the small roof deck high above Belyne and stared at . . . nothing.
“Where is it?” Kylpin was the first to break the silence.
“The wind mage said it was invisible.” Garett walked out to the edge of the gangplank. “It must be there, we just can’t see it.”
“Maybe the wind mage . . . uh, uh . . . left in it,” Philson said.
Music blotted out the droning in Josephine’s head. “I sense some sort of magic at work here, but I have no idea what it is.”
Philson cocked his head to o
ne side and closed his eyes. “I think I hear . . . uh, uh . . . something too.”
“There’s one way to find out for sure,” Kylpin said. He stepped forward and gave Garett a hard shove. The fire mage tumbled off the gangplank.
“Kylpin!” Josephine shrieked.
But Garett stopped falling almost immediately and lay spread-eagle on something unseen in the air. He groaned and climbed to his feet. He arched an eyebrow at Kylpin and forced a tight-lipped smile. “See.” He stomped his foot. They all heard a solid thumping noise. “I told you there was an airship.”
The music inside Josephine’s head faded, and as it did the airship began to take form. To her, it looked like a long wooden ship painted a pale shade of blue but instead of sails, the deck was rigged to a large, cylindrical sac that looked vaguely like a giant, fat, undulating snake.
“How is it staying up?” she asked.
Garett pointed toward the sac. “My guess, the wind mage has a rather large air elemental trapped inside there.”
Kylpin whistled softly as he boarded the ship. “To fill something that size, it must be big.”
“And old.” Garett added. “It was probably from his first joining. Instead of releasing it once it grew too large for him to contain, he harnessed its power this way.”
“Is it safe?” Josephine asked.
Garett shrugged. “As long as the sac doesn’t rupture, we should be fine.”
Josephine eyed the sac suspiciously. The material was foreign to her, but she supposed it looked in good condition. Every ten feet or so, a large metal ring made up of tubes encircled the sac and all the tubes eventually fed into a small wooden enclosure near what she assumed was the bow. Kylpin was already heading in that direction and she hesitantly followed him.
“I’m going to look below deck for . . . uh, uh . . . food,” Philson called out.
“I’ll go with you,” Garett offered.
Josephine nodded and stepped into the bow cabin. She found Kylpin standing in front of a small wheel and a series of levers. On the wall above the front facing window were two diagrams. One showed a side view of the airship and another showed a top-down. Before she could ask if he’d figured out how to fly the ship, he brushed past her and shut the door.
Stolen Crown Page 27
