The Fire King

by Paul Crilley

  “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.

  CHAPTER NINE

  In which Emily and Co. battle the Black Knight.

  It 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 fal
ling 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.”

  He turned away and moved to stand next to Jack. Emily watched him go, crestfallen. She hadn’t meant it that way. Is that what Will thought of her? That she would just stand back while the others put themselves in danger? Surely he knew her better than that.

  While she had been arguing, Wren had been carefully dragging Cavanagh across the grass until he was out of the way. Now he was busy fumbling inside his leather satchel. Emily hurried over to him.

  “Cavanagh gave me this,” he said. “There are all sorts of things—”

  Emily grabbed the satchel and dumped the contents on the grass. Corrigan scurried over and began sorting through the odd assortment of items. Wren eyed him warily but didn’t say anything.

  “Movement!” shouted Jack.

  Emily looked up to see the clouds of dust swirl into little circles, as if a breeze had wafted through the courtyard. Then the Black Knight emerged from the shadows of Wren’s rooms. He staggered onto the grass, clutching the wound beneath his arm. He stopped short when he saw William, Jack, and Katerina standing in a line, their weapons raised before them.

  He watched them for a moment. Then he put his head down and charged straight at them.

  Emily frantically searched through the items from the satchel, but there didn’t seem to be much that would help. A key, a small crossbow (but nothing to put in it), and a few iron daggers.

  That was it.

  The knight had almost reached the others.

  “Scatter!” shouted Katerina. Jack and William did as instructed, moving aside so that they surrounded the knight. He skidded to a halt, eyeing them warily. Without warning, he lunged forward and swung his arm around, trying to smash it into them. Only Jack was close enough for contact, and he threw himself backward. The knight’s armor-covered fist sliced through the air only inches from his face.

  Katerina darted around to his back and stabbed at him with her blade. The metal skittered uselessly off his armor. At the same time, William lunged forward with his rowan stake, looking utterly ridiculous to Emily, and stabbed at the back of the knight’s knee. To Emily’s amazement (and William’s), the wood slipped past the join in the armor and sunk into the knight’s leg. The knight jerked away, whirling around to face his attacker. When he saw William, he raised his other leg and brought it down hard, intending to crush William beneath his weight.

  Jack barreled into Will, sending them both flying out of the way. The knight’s foot came down with a heavy thud, leaving his imprint deep in the grass.

  He turned to face them as they rolled across the ground, but once again, Katerina struck him with her sword, distracting him so they could get to their feet.

  But William had given Emily an idea. She pulled her own rowan stake out of her coat and used one of the iron knives to saw it quickly in half. She scooped up the small crossbow, wondering how you were supposed to get it working.

  “Turn the thing, the handle,” said Corrigan urgently.

  Emily saw the handle he was referring to. She wound it round and roun
d, watching as the bow-shaped wood at the front bent more and more, pulling back toward her hand. She kept going until a small clicking sound told her it was locked in place. Then she slid one of the pieces of rowan into the track and aimed it at the knight. He was only ten or so paces away. She had a clear shot. None of the others were in the way.

  Emily pulled the trigger.

  The crossbow released with a solid thunk. The rowan bolt flew into the air, turning end over end. It hit the knight’s arm, then bounced off his armor and embedded itself in the ground, narrowly missing Katerina’s ear as it did so.

  “Do you mind?” she shouted, then dove to the side and rolled to her feet again as the knight lunged at her.

  Emily quickly wound the crossbow again. She slid her last piece of rowan onto the weapon, then aimed it once again. She had to get it right. This was her last shot.

  She aimed …

  A hand closed over hers, stopping her from firing. It was Wren.

  “It won’t work. The wood isn’t straight. It won’t fly true.”

  “I have to try,” said Emily. “How else are we supposed to stop that thing?”

  Wren took the crossbow from her hands. “Allow me.”

  He turned and ran toward the fighting. He moved straight for the knight, the crossbow hidden behind his back. When he was no more than three paces away, he stumbled to a stop.

  “Hoi,” he shouted.

  The knight was busy fending off repeated blows from Katerina and Jack, blows that were raising showers of sparks along his arms. He quickly turned, ready to strike out. But when he saw Wren, he hesitated, his raised arm faltering.

  That was all Wren needed. He stepped forward, raised the crossbow, and fired it directly into the eye slit in the knight’s helmet.

  The knight’s head jerked back from the force of the blow. He slowly straightened up again, then tilted his head to the side, as if confused about something.

  Then he fell apart.

  At least, that’s what it seemed like to Emily. A cloud of oily smoke wafted into the air, and then the armor simply dropped away, clattering to the ground and forming an untidy pile of metal. Of the Black Knight, there was absolutely nothing left.