The Arcanist (38 page)

But even as he did so the pile of steel parts was assembling itself into something big and nasty looking. Something that seemed to have metal plates like those of a suit of armour encasing some sort of wind storm. Something evil.

Then Vesar reached him and it was too late to worry about it. Vesar's blade came straight for his head and Simon had to dodge even as he used his duelling sword to parry the blow, and then counter attacked. Punching with his left hand at where Vesar's chest should be. But what his fist hit didn't feel like a normal chest. It felt like cloth covering thick bark, and his blow seemed to do nothing to the advisor. He just laughed at him and swung his heavier sword at him again, seeking to take his arm off at the shoulder.

Simon dived to his side, away from the deadly blow, and then countered with a strike at Vesar's sword arm as it passed him by. This time he did the advisor some damage. Enough to make him grunt something at him angrily. But not enough to make him drop the sword.

“What was that Vesar? You seem to be mumbling.” Simon mocked his advisor, thinking to put him off balance and it seemed to work. Vesar snarled at him in anger. He actually snarled at him like a wild beast. But he didn't let his anger cause him to make a mistake. He controlled it. And in time he controlled his mouth too.

“You think you'll escape this Your Majesty, don't you? You think you'll get away somehow? But you won't.” Vesar managed a small flourish with his blade, drawing Simon's eyes, and then when he was distracted Vesar tried a small lunge at his shoulder. He only just missed.

“We have your scent. Your foul odour. Every one of the Royal Guard knows it. And even if you somehow get away today you'll be hunted down. For this betrayal there will be no end. We will hunt you to the ends of the world.”

“Come now ugly. You're just upset because I struck first!”

Simon's words hit a nerve and Vesar snarled once more, enraged beyond reason. That was Simon's chance to attack and so he let the tip of his blade strike straight at the advisor's vital parts, and causing him to back off and parry as best he could with his heavier blade. For a while Simon even thought he had the advantage as his enemy was too slow and his blade had not been designed for stabbing. But Vesar had more tricks up his sleeve, and after a particularly nice strike had cut deep into his shoulder he demonstrated one, pulling out a dagger and throwing it at him.

It hit, burying itself deep in Simon's thigh and he knew then that he was in trouble. The wound would slow him, restrict his ability to dodge and give Vesar the edge he needed. But at the same time Simon knew he had to be damaged himself. When the tip of Simon's blade was covered in several inches of dark purple blood the priest couldn't be in the best of shape.

But Vesar didn't seem to understand that as he came swinging for him once more, and Simon had to start parrying. He just seemed angry. Though in truth with that face, he naturally looked angry. Still, his blows had the strength of rage behind them and he didn't seem to be tiring. In fact little by little he was driving the king back. Back into the castle's door. And all the while he was screaming at him about the terrible death he was going to suffer when the hounds had him in their teeth.

And then just when things seemed to be going so wrong, they got worse. The steel creature finally finished assembling itself and roared. A sound of primal fury and steel scraping on stone that chilled the blood. Little flashes of light that he knew were musket balls bouncing off it, danced in his vision. They did nothing to it. He wasn't sure that anything could.

“You like my golem Your Majesty?”

Vesar mocked him as he kept swinging, trying to distract him. Perhaps to make him angry so he'd make a mistake. But Simon wasn't stupid enough to fall for the trick.

“Better than your face!”

The adviser snarled in anger again – he seemed to be peculiarly sensitive about his appearance – and that was all the distraction Simon needed. Instead of parrying his next blow, he ducked under it, letting the heavy sword sail over his head and then as quickly as he could, sent the tip of his blade deep into the flesh of the priest's arm. It was a clean strike, a thing of beauty, and Vesar screamed with pain. Better yet he backed away, clutching his arm to him, sword still in it, and that gave Simon his next target.

He lunged forward, a little awkwardly with one leg not working as it should, and buried a good six inches of his sword in Vesar's belly.

The adviser fell backwards screaming and Simon celebrated. But that was all the celebrating he was able to do. He wanted to lunge forward and finish the job, driving the point of his sword through Vesar's black heart, but he couldn't. Not when a good dozen more of the royal guards were suddenly running for him, swords raised to chop him into little pieces. The duel was over.

Instead of facing them, Simon hurried back into the castle – it was lucky he was so close to the courtyard door – and then pulled the massive oak doors shut behind him. Only just in time as he heard the sounds of heavy steel objects smashing into them. But it was enough time to slam the huge bar home into its slots and secure the door.

He was safe. For the moment. But of course there were more dangers inside. More royal guards. He spotted the first two of them standing at the entrance to the throne room not fifty paces from where he stood, just as they spotted him. But they didn't know what was going on. They hadn't been close enough to hear exactly what was happening outside and there were no windows on this floor. And luckily this was one of the few parts of the castle that hadn't been damaged by the mammoths allowing them to see through the broken walls. That gave him his chance and he took it.

“Guard the doors! The castle's under attack!” He screamed it at them, and maybe the urgency in his voice and the dagger in his leg convinced them. They ran past him, never realising that he was the one who had attacked them. Meanwhile he limped past them, heading for safety.

“Whatever you do don't let anyone through that door! They got Vesar and they'll kill the rest of us!” That he figured should hold them, and he limped as quickly as he could for the library and his only hope. On the way there he spotted several more guards and quickly had them joining their comrades at the door with more lies. Whatever these creatures were they were at least gullible. They were also obedient. They'd been ordered to remain at their posts and despite the battle outside, the noise of which they surely had heard, they hadn't moved. Obviously they were obedient to the point of stupid.

There was an explosion somewhere behind him as he reached the library doors, and he wondered what it was. It didn't sound like a cannon exactly, although it was just as loud and it shook the entire castle. But whatever it was didn't matter. Not when he could slam the library doors shut behind him and then swing the bar into place. It was fortunate that the castle had been designed to protect against attackers even if they somehow broke through the walls.

He was safe! But not really. Not yet. Simon collapsed on to the edge of one of the massive writing desks, breathing heavily. For a few minutes more or less, he knew he would be safe. Until they came through the courtyard door and his lies were exposed. After that it wouldn't take them long to find him. Not when the guards had seen where he was heading and he was dripping blood all over the floor. He had to go.

Another massive explosion rocked the castle then and he wondered what was happening out there. But whatever it was he knew it wasn't good for his soldiers. Not that he cared. The longer they fought the more time he had to escape. And escape had to begin with two working legs.

He didn't want to, he trembled at the thought, but somehow Simon found his hand on the hilt of the dagger still buried in his thigh, and he pulled it free with a single terrible heave. He screamed in pain and then screamed some more. A lot more. The pain was unbearable. Fire burned through his entire leg. But it had had to be done. As he ripped a small length of green velvet free from the sash that held the curtains back to tie around his leg and staunch the bleeding he knew that. He also knew that there was an escape tunnel directly under the library. That was why he'd come here.

In the old days, when he'd first been running illegal artefacts in and out of the castle, he'd used it to meet his contacts. Old King Byron had never known that he could enter and leave the castle at will. And if he'd noticed things missing from his expensive collections he would have had no idea how they were getting in and out. Because of that he'd never caught the thieves, and he'd never learned that Simon was building his fortune by stealing from him. Or at least running the thieves who were stealing from him.

And Vesar didn't know about it either. But of course there was always the question – would he find it? Despite knowing it was probably just a taunt, he was worried that these creatures could actually hunt him down by scent.

Another explosion shook the castle, sending clouds of dust falling from the plaster ceiling, and he knew he didn't have much time. Whatever was happening out in the courtyard it was destroying the already damaged castle. Soon if he wasn't both lucky and quick, the remains of it would collapse on top of him.

Worried Simon hurried for the bookshelves and pushed the hidden lever. Instantly the bookshelf swung open to reveal the narrow crawlspace between the stone walls, and the stair case leading down from it. Moments later he had shut the bookcase again to cover his tracks and was sidling down it. The gap between the library wall and the hall way wall which it pretended to be was only about a foot, and he had to sidle down it awkwardly. A fat man would not have been able to make it. But fortunately he hadn't had the chance to become fat like the last king and soon he'd reached the underground tunnels. The castle was riddled with them and thanks to his disreputable past Simon knew most of them.

He took the tunnel heading beyond the castle's front wall, pausing only long enough to grab a torch from the wall and light it. It wasn't a particularly long journey, five hundred paces or so, but it took time thanks to his injury, and all the way there he felt more explosions in the castle above him. But at least nothing came crashing down on him and in time he reached the far end.

There he peeked through the spyhole first, making sure that no one was in the room, before pushing the lever that opened the panel leading to the back room of the Badger's Rest. The inn was deserted of course. Its owners had fled before the city had closed and there were no customers. There was no ale or cider either which was a pity because he would have dearly loved a drink just then. But still there was an old travelling cloak still hanging on a peg and he grabbed it. If he was to escape he needed to look like any other citizen, not the king.

The inn also gave him another advantage, as from its upstairs window he could look out at the scene of the battle and see what was going on. Something that was important when the explosions were continuing.

Slowly, crippled by his injury, he climbed the stairs and peeked through the window at the end of the hall. But he soon wished he hadn't. Not when he could see what was causing the explosions.

The steel creature that Vesar had built – the golem as he'd called it – was busy picking up huge chunks of masonry and flinging them at the castle walls. And the massive impacts as they smashed into them were the explosions that were shaking the entire castle. Meanwhile there were still some of his soldiers on the remains of the ramparts firing back at the guards. But to little effect. Their safe bastion from which they could fire down on the enemy had turned into a trap and they were stuck there, waiting for the next stone to take their lives.

Meanwhile more royal guards had arrived – he wasn't sure from where – and the remains of the castle, broken walls and all, was surrounded by them. Some three or four hundred of them were standing there, studying the battle as the golem slowly tore his soldiers apart.

Worst of all, Vesar was still alive. Through the corner of the window Simon spotted him, sitting on a pile of rubble being tended to by more royal guards. Injured but not dead as he should be. The sight made Simon angry. But it also gave him an idea. A target.

When Vesar had kept redeploying all the workforce he could find to build his temple even after Simon's command, it had annoyed him. But more than that it had worried him. Despite his now former advisor's imaginings, he wasn't a fool and he knew that whatever the temple really was, it posed a threat to him. No one would go to such an effort to build a temple so quickly unless it held much more than spiritual value to them. So he'd had his own people, thieves he knew from his old days, placing charges in strategic places. Barrels of gunpowder with fuses leading down to the underground tunnels.