The Fire King (12 page)

The top half of the wall behind the knight started to sag, then it separated from the ceiling with the screeching of tortured nails and dropped to the floor, revealing the sitting room on the other side. Barnaby yelped and jumped back outside.

Wren slammed the study door shut. Not that it would do any good against that monstrosity, but he couldn't think what else to do. He whirled around to face Cavanagh, who was fishing around in his satchel again. This time Cavanagh yanked out a short sword about the length of Wren's forearm. He clutched it like a poker and grimaced at Wren.

“Never been one for weapons.”

The rending and crashing of wood from the passage stopped. They both looked nervously at the study door.

“We need another way out,” said Cavanagh. “Any thoughts?”

“The attic?” Wren suggested. “It opens onto the roof.”

Cavanagh nodded. “Lead the way.”

Wren hurried through another door that led from his study. It opened onto a short passage with a set of stairs leading up to the second floor. Wren clambered up the steps, his heart racing erratically. He had no clear idea what was going on. Just that what had only this morning been a clear and ordered—albeit a slightly humdrum—existence had been turned on its head. Was he really running from a seven-foot-tall knight? Did faeries actually exist?

It didn't seem possible, and for a brief second he wondered if he had fallen asleep at his desk. But then he heard his study door being ripped from its hinges and the knight venting his blood-chilling roar once again, and he realized this was all real. Horrifyingly, dangerously real.

The attic stairs were at the end of the second-floor landing. Wren quickly led the way up into the low, dusty attic. Moonlight shone through the small window, illuminating old crates and pieces of junk, the detritus of previous tenants. When Wren saw how small the window was, he had a sudden fear that they would be trapped up here. It didn't look big enough for them to fit through.

He fumbled with the latch and tried to push the window open. It didn't budge. He tried again, bracing his feet and pushing. Nothing. Wren leaned closer and inspected it by the silver moonlight. Successive coats of paint had sealed it shut. They were trapped. Cornered. The roaring of the knight came closer. He must have found the stairs to the second landing.

Which meant he would soon discover the attic door. They were as good as dead.

Cavanagh pushed him aside and started digging around the window frame with his sword. “Not exactly the use I had in mind, but needs must when the devil drives, yes?”

“Devil is an apt choice of word,” said Wren, keeping a nervous eye on the door. “Are they demons?”

“I told you. They are faeries. All the myths. All the legends. All true. You really need to understand this if you want to stay alive, Wren.” Cavanagh gave the window a shove. It still didn't budge. He sighed, then shoved the point of his sword between the window and the frame, pushing down on the hilt. There was a tearing sound as the paint reluctantly separated and the window moved slightly. Cavanagh wrenched his sword free and pushed the window the rest of the way open. “After you?”

Wren dragged an old crate across the floor and used it to climb up onto the windowsill.

“Hate to hurry you,” said Cavanagh in a tight voice. “But that clumping sound you hear is the knight on the attic stairs.”

Wren wriggled the top half of his body out the window. It was a tight fit. The grass of the commons lay far below him. Strange. He'd never thought the professors' lodgings to be overly high, but from this perspective, it was absolutely terrifying. One wrong step and that would be the end.

Wren twisted around so that his backside was on the sill, then grabbed the eaves above the window, using them to steady himself while he shuffled back and finally got his legs free. He pulled himself up onto the roof, swaying slightly as he tried to keep his balance.

Cavanagh joined him moments later, and they hurried up the incline to the peak of the roof. A loose slate gave way beneath Cavanagh's boot. He slipped onto his knee, the impact causing more of the slates to part ways from the roof beams. He started to slide. Wren staggered down the slope, only barely managing to stop himself falling over, and grabbed Cavanagh's arm, bringing him to a lurching stop.

Cavanagh pushed himself to his feet and nodded gratefully at Wren. “I suggest we run now. With much alacrity.”

Wren shook his head. “You always were a one for the understatement, Cavanagh.” The long roof stretched ahead of them. At the end of the long row that made up the professors' lodgings he could see the lecture halls and the reading rooms, an untidy jumble of structures that eventually gave way onto the street outside the college.

They started to move but hadn't gone five steps before there was a furious crash from beneath their feet. The whole roof shook. Wren and Cavanagh paused, exchanging a look of alarm. The crash came again, harder and louder.

Wren and Cavanagh turned just as the roof of Wren's lodgings exploded upward in a lethal cloud of shattered tiles and broken wood.

Wren ducked and shielded his face from the spiraling shards. They scattered all around him, fragments stinging exposed skin. He straightened up and found himself staring at the knight as he pulled himself up through the massive hole he had torn in the roof. Tiles cracked underfoot as the knight slowly straightened up to his full height. The moon was full and round behind him, limning his black armor in silver light.

Then, to Wren's utter horror, Cavanagh held the small iron sword before him and readied himself to face the knight.

“Cavanagh! Are you insane? We must flee.”

“No time, Wren,” said Cavanagh bleakly. “Not anymore.” He unshouldered his satchel and tossed it through the air. Wren caught it with fumbling fingers. “You're now the last of the Invisible Order, Wren. It falls to you to stop the fey. If you don't, then humanity is lost.”

“I won't abandon you—”

“Wren! Just go! This is my time. Don't let me die in vain.”

The knight had started to walk forward by this time. But he was having trouble moving, as every step of his heavy tread sent broken tiles sliding away beneath him. Cavanagh let out a scream of defiance and charged the knight with his sword held out before him, braced in both hands. He aimed the point at the eye slit in the knight's helm, but the knight brought his arm up to deflect the blow. The sword hit with a flash of sparks and a screech of metal, sliding away to the side. Cavanagh braced his legs and swung again. Once more the knight deflected. More sparks leapt into the night sky, glinting against the black armor.

Wren hesitated briefly, then turned and ran as fast as he could along the sharply pitched roof, tears stinging his eyes. Cavanagh had made his choice. There was nothing Wren could do to help, no weapon he could wield to assist him. The only thing he could do was honor Cavanagh's request and take advantage of any delay his attack would cause.

He reached the end of the roof. The astronomy lab was a few feet below him. He readied himself to jump, but a deep roar of pain behind him caused him to whirl around. The knight's arm was raised to the night sky. Cavanagh stood below him, his sword piercing the creature through the gap in the armor just below the armpit.

The tableau was frozen for a brief second. The moon hung low behind them both, illuminating the scene in clear ivory light. Cavanagh's face registered surprise that he had actually wounded the knight with his iron blade.

Then the knight lashed out with his free arm and hit Cavanagh in the chest. Cavanagh let out a grunt of pain and sailed backward through the air, the force of the blow sending him clear over the roof.

Cavanagh dropped out of sight. A moment later, Wren heard a distant thud.

The knight fell to his knees in pain. There was a moment of silence, and then the whole roof collapsed beneath his weight and he disappeared in a cloud of dust and the screaming of splitting wood.

C
HAPTER
N
INE

In which Emily and Co. battle the Black Knight.

I
t was dark by the time Emily and the others arrived back at Gresham College. Katerina had joined them, even though Puck hadn't wanted her to go. He had thrown up quite a fuss, his shadows raging around the room as he and Katerina argued. But in the end, he had no choice. Katerina wouldn't back down. She said that she felt it was where she was meant to be. Helping the others instead of sitting in an underground room listening to Puck relive past glories. That had sent Puck into another tirade, and the others had used the opportunity to slip away through the tunnel and out into London.

The gate to the college still stood open, something Jack found a bit
too
exciting. “If it's still open now,” he said eagerly, “I bet it's open all night long.” He stared keenly across the street. “And not even a gatekeeper to keep watch.” He shook his head in mock sorrow. “These professors are very trusting.”

“Barnaby mentioned something about most of the professors being away on leave,” said Emily. “Something about restoration to the college.”

“The perfect time,” said Jack, rubbing his hands together.

“Perfect time for what?” asked William.

“Nothing,” said Emily quickly, throwing a stern look at Jack.

“Will you stop doing that?” said William forcefully. “How am I supposed to learn anything if you keep trying to hide things from me? Let me make up my own mind!”

“The lad's got a point,” said Corrigan, from his position on Emily's shoulder. “And to answer your question,” he said to William, “he's talking about theft. Stealing the belongings of the professors.”

“Oh. Yes. Obviously, I knew
that
,” said William quickly, flushing with embarrassment. Emily knew that look. He felt humiliated because he hadn't known what Jack was talking about. And by not knowing it, he more or less proved that Emily was right. That he really
was
too young to take part in such discussions. He turned away, but not before throwing an angry glare at Emily, as if it was all her fault.

That really was it. Emily decided she would have a talk with William soon. His behavior was getting out of hand. She was the eldest, so it fell to her to look after them both. It was as simple as that. He wouldn't treat their parents like this. Or if he did, he'd probably get a cane across his hide, something Emily couldn't do. (And wouldn't, even if she had the chance. She had been caned while at school, and her backside had hurt for days afterward.)

But that was for later. Right now, they needed to get Corrigan in front of Wren so he could see she hadn't been talking gibberish. That there really were fey creatures who lived alongside the people of London.

Emily led them across the road and past the jumble of houses and rooms that made up the front side of the college, then through the short tunnel to the grass-covered quadrangle that was surrounded by the professors' lodgings.

As they emerged onto the covered walkway, a bellow of pain burst across the college grounds, bringing them all up short.

Emily's eyes darted toward the source of the shout. There were two figures on the roof above Christopher Wren's rooms, outlined against the full moon. Her breath caught in her throat. The taller of the figures was one of the knights they had seen that afternoon, one of the Morrigan's knights.

The other figure was a man. He was standing braced against the roof as he tried to push a sword or something deeper into the knight. Was it Wren? Had he lied to her? Did he know about the fey after all?

But a moment later all such questions were driven from her mind. There was a blur of movement, then a meaty thud as the knight struck the man in the chest. The force of the blow lifted him high into the air and sent him tumbling from the roof.

There was a brief moment of silence, a brief instant when everything seemed to freeze. Then the moment was gone, and the man landed heavily on the ground and lay still.

Emily tore her eyes away from the horrific sight and looked up. The knight sagged to one knee, and then the roof gave way beneath his weight and he fell into the rooms below amidst the screams of shattering wood and breaking tiles.

Emily started running. She didn't think about how dangerous it was, only that she had to see if she could help. She sprinted across the grass, drawing closer and closer to the dark form lying outside Wren's lodgings. She dreaded what she would find. Was the person dead? Wounded? Maybe he was unharmed. Maybe he'd fallen in such a way that he was somehow cushioned from the worst of it.

But no. As she drew closer to the figure, she could see how unnatural his legs looked, jutting out at such an angle that anyone could see they were broken.

She also realized something else—something that flushed her entire being with relief, which was followed immediately by a hot rush of guilt at feeling such a thing.

It wasn't Christopher Wren. The figure was too tall, too thin for it to be the man she had spoken to. In fact, it looked more like …

Cavanagh?

Emily slowed down. She glanced warily around her, not sure what to expect. Why was Cavanagh fighting the knight? What did he have to do with anything?

The others caught up with her, slowing down to stare at the figure lying on the grass. “Snow?” said Jack. “Care to tell us what's going on?”

“I have no idea,” she said, carefully approaching the prone figure. There was blood on his face. An old-looking sword lay by his side.

“Is this Wren?” asked Katerina, squatting down to peer at Cavanagh's face. She had her own sword drawn. She clutched it tightly as she cast wary glances around them.

“No. It's Cavanagh. He was with Wren this afternoon.”

“Is he dead?” asked William, peering in fascination at the figure.

“I … I'm not sure,” said Emily. She moved closer. He certainly looked dead. If the crushing blow from the knight hadn't finished him, then surely the fall had? Emily moved around the figure so that her moon-cast shadow wasn't falling across his features. His eyes were closed. There was blood soaking through his clothes.

“Yes. I think he's—”

Cavanagh's hand shot out and grabbed hold of Emily's arm. She screamed in fright and tried to pull away, but the man's bony fingers only bit deeper.

“You…,” he gasped. He tried to say something more, but all that came out was a moan of pain. His hand dropped away.

“Come on,” said Jack nervously. “If this isn't Wren, we should get out of here.”

“We can't just leave him like this,” said Emily. “He needs help.”

“There's nothing we can do for him,” said Katerina. “Jack is right. It's Wren we're looking for. We should go.”

“Wait,” said Cavanagh weakly. “I … I am a member of the Invisible Order.”

Emily locked eyes with the others. Jack hesitated, then shrugged. Corrigan looked at Cavanagh with some interest and sauntered casually into the man's field of vision. When Cavanagh saw him, he groaned and fumbled for his sword. But the movement was too much, and he cried out in pain.

“Well, he can certainly see me,” said Corrigan in amusement.

“Corrigan!” snapped Emily. “Stop that.”

Corrigan stuck his tongue out at her.

“You … you command the fey?” asked Cavanagh weakly.

Emily moved closer to Cavanagh. “Not really. I keep trying to make him behave, and he keeps ignoring me.”

“This … this is your fault. You brought the fey to our door. I have tried to stay hidden from them. Tried to make sure at least one of us remained. But you have undone all of that. You have put Wren's life in danger. They must think he is a member of the Order.”

“Isn't he?” asked William from behind Emily.

“No. It was too dangerous. They were hunting us down. Seeking information on … on the Raven King. They are getting ready. Getting ready for something big. Something terrible. You must go to my house. There are things … things that can help you. I … I have notes …” Cavanagh coughed, and Emily was alarmed to see blood coming from his mouth. When Cavanagh's coughing fit had subsided, he reached out and touched Emily's wrist with his cold fingers. “It falls to you … you must protect Wren. Teach him. The Order must live on.”

His fingers dropped to the grass.

“Mr. Cavanagh?” Emily gently prodded him. “Sir?”

Jack gently moved Emily out of the way. He bent over and felt at Cavanagh's neck.

“Is … is he dead?” asked a voice from behind them.

Emily and the others whirled around to find Christopher Wren standing a few paces away, staring at the still form. His face was almost as pale as Cavanagh's. He clutched a battered leather satchel to his chest with trembling hands.

“Not yet,” said Jack. “But he's not looking very good. Christopher Wren, I presume?”

“What?” Wren blinked and tried to focus on Jack. “Yes. Christopher Wren,” he said absently. “Pleased to meet you.”

“Are there any doctors nearby?” asked Emily urgently. Wren turned his dazed eyes onto Emily. “Oh, it's you. Hello again. Cavanagh told me I had to find you. Well done, me.”

“Snow, we need to get him somewhere safe,” Jack said.

“Nice thought,” said Katerina, “but we have other problems at the moment.”

She was standing off to the side, looking across the grass at Wren's rooms. Emily followed her gaze. Dust was drifting through the empty doorway.

She was just about to ask Katerina what she was talking about when she heard it.

The sound of breaking wood.

Katerina moved forward a few steps so that she was standing in front of the others. Jack scooped up Cavanagh's sword and hurried forward to join her.

“Careful you don't stick yourself with that,” said Katerina, glancing at Jack.

“Hah! You just … make sure you don't stick
your
self,” Jack replied weakly.

Katerina smiled, turning her eyes back to the gaping black door ahead of them. “Nice retort. I hope your feet move faster than your mind. Because if they don't, you should just stay out of my way.”

Emily searched around for a weapon of her own. All she had was her stake of witchbane, and she didn't think she'd have much luck penetrating the knight's armor with it.

But that didn't stop William. He gripped his own stake and joined Jack and Katerina. Emily hurried forward and grabbed him by the arm.

“What are you doing?” she asked furiously.

“Let me go!” William tried to shake her off, but Emily wouldn't release her grip.

“You can't fight one of those knights with a piece of wood! You'll get killed.”

William finally managed to wrench his arm free. His face was pinched with fury. “So is that what you plan on doing, Em? Standing here and watching someone else die for you? Well, I won't do that. I won't stand here and watch them fight on their own. I can help.”