Saving Thanehaven (7 page)

“Rufus is gone,” Lorellina hisses.

“Exactly.” Noble is keeping his voice low. “He’s gone because that man is hunting for him. If Rufus is afraid of that man, then that man must be our enemy, too.”

The princess frowns. “Why?” she asks, baffled.

“Because Rufus wants to set us free.”

The man in the white coat has reached his carriage. He pauses for an instant by the open door, talking to the small, flat object that he’s pressed to one ear. Noble wonders if it’s some kind of charm or talisman.

“Quick!” he orders, rounding on the guards. “Fall back! Back inside!”

“But the gargoyles!” Lorellina waves her key. “What about them?”

“Later. We’ll release them later.”

“But he’s just one man—”

“Your cousin is just one man, and he can summon up a pillar of blood,” Noble reminds her. Then he jerks his chin at her escort, which hasn’t moved. “Tell them to fall back,” he begs.

“No.” The princess wrenches herself free. “I gave my word. I
will
release the gargoyles.”

She strides forward, past the empty plinth, but the man in the white coat doesn’t react. He just climbs into his carriage, which then rolls off the road through a chunk of thorn hedge, before abruptly stopping.

“Princess.” Noble joins Lorellina beside the next gargoyle. “Let me do this. You go inside where it’s safe.”

“These are
my
subjects,” she retorts. “I am here to protect them. How can I put my own safety above theirs?”

Frustrated, Noble points at the newcomer. “Princess, will you
look
at that man? He’s waiting! He’s put away his talisman and now he’s waiting!”

Lorellina can’t resist; she takes a quick peek. “For what?” she asks.

“I don’t know. Reinforcements?”

“You there! Stranger!” She raises her voice suddenly. “Go now, before I have you expelled! What are you waiting for?”

The man opens his mouth, but he doesn’t have to reply. Because at that very instant, Noble hears a low rumble like distant thunder.

And he realizes that reinforcements are, indeed, on their way.

T
he second magic carriage is much bigger than the first. It’s almost as wide as the road, with at least a dozen massive wheels sitting under a long white box. The window in front is set high—higher than Noble can reach.

It’s amazing that something so big can come barreling down the road so quickly.

“Fall back!” Noble yells, over the roar of the approaching monster. “Everyone fall back!”

This time, nobody argues—not even Lorellina. She lets Noble drag her toward the fortress, though she stumbles a few times as she tries to match his pace. The guards retreat clumsily. Their armor is weighing them down, so it’s not long before Noble finds himself closing in on them.

He suddenly feels wood beneath his feet instead of cobblestones. By now, the noise is deafening. Whatever that thing might be, it’s breathing hot air down his neck. When the drawbridge gives an odd little bounce, he knows that the first set of oversized wheels must have rolled onto it.

“The drawbridge!” Lorellina bawls. “We can’t raise the drawbridge!”

Noble hesitates, casting a quick glance over his shoulder. Sure enough, the giant carriage is right behind him. But the snap and crunch of stressed wood makes it stop; if it goes any farther, the drawbridge might collapse under its weight.

“Halt!” bellows Noble. He has to pitch his voice high over the sound of the pursuing behemoth, which is squealing and groaning and hissing as it grinds to a standstill. “Guards! Fall in! Wait!”

“Wait!”
screeches the princess. Her escort stops, so abruptly that Noble almost slams into it.

He wrenches the nearest poleax from its owner’s grip.

“We have to stand fast,” he declares. “We have to hold this position.” Then he tells Lorellina, “Go inside. Get reinforcements.”

“What?” She sounds stunned.

“Alert the garrison! We need more men!” He can’t believe she hasn’t worked this out for herself. “If we can’t close the drawbridge, we’ll have to form a defensive line!”

“Oh. Yes. Of course.” But she lingers, her gaze shifting back to the thing on the drawbridge. “It’s not moving,” she points out. “It’s not making any noise.” The words have barely left her mouth when a drawn-out
cre-e-eak
is followed by a short, sharp bang.

Noble decides that someone has just pushed open a large door at the rear of the giant carriage.

“Go!
Go!
” he yelps.

Lorellina goes. She flings herself at the guards—who part like a curtain to let her through—then gallops off into the shadowy gatehouse, hoisting up her skirts. Noble, meanwhile, has spun around to face whatever might be about to hit him. He’s in the middle of the drawbridge, braced for action and gripping the poleax with both hands. The guards begin to line up on either side of him, shoulder to shoulder in neat formation.

Even without his boots on, he towers over them.

“Whoever you are, you will not pass!” he booms. “Not unless you show just cause!”

In the brief silence that follows, he can hear the sound of footsteps. But he’s distracted from this rhythmic
crunch-crunch-crunch
by a sudden burst of movement as a gargoyle explodes into the sky, shooting up from behind the big white carriage like a boulder flung by a war machine. Even though it can’t possibly be Doddypoll, this creature looks exactly the same—right down to its curly warthog tusks.

Noble is confused. He watches the gargoyle dive
and bank, then fly off toward Thanehaven. It soars like an eagle, rarely moving its wings. Soon, it’s just a dark speck against the brooding clouds.

How could it have freed itself without Lorellina’s key?

“Ahem,” says a voice.

Noble lets his gaze drop. Then his jaw drops, too.

He’s staring at a clone. A double. An exact replica. He’s staring at another Noble, who sports his own huge shoulders and narrow waist, his own chiseled features, his own level ice-blue glower and sun-streaked hair. Even the man’s scars and studded wristbands are the same as his.

The only difference is that the false Noble is wearing boots—and carrying a Tritus in his right hand.

“What—who …?” Noble stammers.

His doppelgänger seems unconcerned. “Ah,” says the false Noble. “So
you’re
my evil twin.”

“Your what?” Noble is stumped. Who is this person? Where has he come from?

“You’ve been corrupted,” the false Noble declares, striding forward as he adjusts his grip on the Tritus. Noble can feel his own muscles tightening in sympathy. He knows exactly how the false Noble is going to swing at him, because he himself would be doing the same, if he were carrying Smite. Unfortunately, he isn’t.

So Noble does something that he wouldn’t normally do. He turns to the guards for protection.

“That man is an intruder!” he informs them. “He’s the one you’ve always feared! Don’t let him through!”

The guards step forward and close ranks, leaving Noble behind as they do so. They now stand between him and the false Noble, who nevertheless decides to launch an attack. The first blow is just about to fall when a familiar voice rings out, freezing the false Noble in midswing. “Wait! Stop!” the voice cries.

Peering over the heads of the guards, Noble is astonished to catch sight of Princess Lorellina. For some reason, she’s emerged from behind the big carriage. He wonders how on earth she’s ended up back there; the last time he saw her, she was heading into the fortress.

“You! Stonebrush! Fettle! What are you doing?” She’s still addressing the guards. “Are you
shielding
an enemy of Harrow?”

“I’m not—” Noble begins, but she doesn’t let him finish.

“A guard’s job is to fight our enemies, not to protect them,” she continues, as if he hasn’t spoken. She strides straight past the false Noble, then breaks through the armored line and marches toward the gatehouse. “Come!” she exclaims, beckoning to the soldiers. “Our enemy has met his match, and there are more enemies inside who must be dealt with.”

Noble can’t believe his ears. “But—”

“Come with me, you men! This fortress has been corrupted!”

Corrupted?
Suddenly, Noble understands. She might look like the princess—she might sound like the princess—but she’s not the princess. She’s a false princess.

“Wait!” he warns the guards. “Don’t follow her! That’s not Princess Lorellina!”

They don’t listen, though, and he doesn’t really blame them. Their sovereign lady has just announced that he’s an enemy of Harrow. Why should they believe a word he says?

He’s standing there helplessly, watching the guards surge after the false princess, when someone else bustles by. It’s the man in the white coat, trotting along in the wake of Lorellina’s escort like a baggage mule. “Look!” warns Noble. “Men of Harrow! There’s an enemy following you!” But only the man in the white coat seems to hear.

He pauses for an instant, his expressionless stare fixed on Noble. “I’m not their enemy.
You’re
their enemy now,” he observes before calmly proceeding on his way. Noble is left all alone, with a simple choice in front of him: should he fight or run?

His first instinct is to fight, since that’s what he’s always done in the past. This time, however, he
knows
he’s outmatched, because he isn’t carrying a Tritus. He isn’t even wearing boots. And his poleax won’t be enough to even the odds.

That’s why the gargoyles are his only hope. Having set one of them free, he might have some leverage with
the others. They might respond to an appeal from a trusted ally. It’s worth a shot, especially since the gargoyles are now much better armed than he is, what with their claws and tusks and razor-sharp teeth.

Noble has to decide before it’s too late. So he makes a choice; he decides not to fight. Instead, he ducks and runs, hurling his poleax at the false Noble.

This tactic works beautifully. The false Noble is taken aback. Braced for a frontal assault, he repels the poleax instead of moving to block Noble’s escape. And during that crucial split second, Noble bolts past him, heading for the road.

The drawbridge isn’t very wide. Only a thin sliver of planking is exposed on either side of the carriage. If Noble doesn’t watch his step, he’ll lose his footing and plummet into the river. That’s why he can’t set the kind of pace he wants to. That’s why he fails to put much distance between himself and his opponent, who’s pounding along after him.

But it doesn’t really matter, because someone else is lurking under the drawbridge—someone who reaches up to grab the false Noble as he passes overhead. Noble doesn’t realize what’s happened, at first. He’s too busy running along the road, shouting at the nearest gargoyle. “Help me!” he pleads. “Help me to fight! If I’m killed, I can’t unchain you!”

Then a bloodcurdling scream interrupts him. He turns to see his doppelgänger pitch sideways, pulled off the drawbridge by a slim, rather dirty hand that’s
snaked around the edge of the planking and gripped a boot identical to the one Noble himself used to wear. The false Noble loses his balance. Flailing wildly, he plunges out of sight. There’s a choked wail, followed by a terrific
splash
.

By the time Noble arrives at the lip of the precipice, his doppelgänger has vanished into the churning torrent far below.

“Quick!” someone croaks. “Get me out of here!”

It’s Rufus. He’s wedged himself onto a narrow, rocky shelf beneath the drawbridge. From this vantage point, it was easy enough for him to upend the false Noble—who can’t have been paying enough attention to his own feet. “We’ve got to hurry!” Rufus warns. “Before the next one shows up!”

“The next what?” Noble demands. Though numb with shock, he bends down to grip Rufus’s outstretched hand.

“The next Noble!” Rufus emerges from his refuge in a scrambling rush. “We’ve got to hide, or he’ll get us!”

Noble doesn’t argue. Having hauled Rufus onto solid ground, he allows himself to be hustled past the rear of the giant carriage, which Rufus calls a truck. According to Rufus, this truck can disgorge any number of replacement Nobles, all armed to the teeth and ready for action. “As soon as the AV comes back and sees that your last replacement’s gone, he’ll pull out another Noble,” Rufus explains, nodding at the truck’s
rear door. “Ten to one, he’ll replace Lord Harrowmage, too.
And
a whole bunch of soldiers …”

“Why?” asks Noble. He follows Rufus, who’s making for the smaller carriage. “I don’t understand. What’s going on? Who was that man in the white coat?”

“I told you, he’s the AV. The antivirus software. He came here to get rid of me—and that means getting rid of you, as well. He has to replace all the subprograms that I’ve converted.” Rufus keeps glancing over his shoulder, as if he’s worried about being seen. “But he won’t find either of us if we hop in the back of his van. Because his van’s not a part of this game.”

Noble frowns, still desperately confused. “What’s a van?” he says.

“This is.” Rufus raps his knuckle on the side of the smaller carriage. “The AV has permission to look absolutely everywhere, but he doesn’t normally monitor himself. That’s why we’ll be safe in here.” Rufus bends down to pull at a silver handle that’s attached to the base of a corrugated door on the back of the van. The door promptly rolls open, lifting like a skirt to reveal stacks of wooden crates in a small, dingy, windowless box. “Perfect,” he mutters. “Just what we need.”

“You mean they’re full of weapons?” Noble queries, eyeing the crates.

“No, but we can hunker down behind ’em so no one will see us. The AV certainly won’t. He’ll be too
busy up front, behind the wheel.” Rufus leaps into the van, then beckons to Noble. “Come on! In you go!”

Noble is so preoccupied that he automatically does as he’s told. “If the other Noble came here to replace me,” he says, “does that mean the false princess came here to replace the real princess?”

“Yup,” Rufus replies.

“Then we have to help her!” Even as Noble speaks, Rufus tugs on the door. It slides shut again, sealing them both inside the stuffy compartment. “We can’t stay here!” Noble insists. “We have to save Lorellina from that false princess!”