Rise of the Arcane Fire (The Secret Order)

by Bailey, Kristin

  Light shimmered above me, and I reached for it, struggling toward the surface with all the strength I had left. I broke through, and gasped, trying to breathe deeply, but my corset constrained my chest.

  I coughed and choked as I heard a loud crash. Turning, I saw the airship’s envelope sinking toward the cold water, a large hole on the side venting steam.

  “David!” I screeched, but the wave from the ship’s striking the water buffeted me. I swam as hard as I could toward the wreck. The water at the surface was warmer than the water even a few feet down. But I still struggled to keep my teeth from chattering.

  “David!” I turned the other way, hoping to see him on the surface. I had to make it to shore. We had landed in the middle of the lake, and it seemed like miles to the water’s edge.

  One at a time I slapped my arms over the water, dragging myself through the murk toward the castle. I could see the ruined tower jutting up from a prominent rock. If I could climb it, perhaps I could spot David.

  He had to be alive.

  I hoped for Uncle Albrecht as well, but he was a fragile old man, and the fall into the water had nearly broken me. I couldn’t imagine him surviving.

  Water washed over my mouth and nose, and I kicked harder. My feet felt as if they weighed twenty stone with my boots pulling them down. I had to make it to the castle.

  The rush of a sudden current pulled me down, and my head sank beneath the water. I kicked back to the surface, and gasped as I looked around. This was a lake. There shouldn’t be a current.

  A new chill gripped me that had nothing to do with the water. Churning bubbles broke the surface just in front of me, and I paddled backward as fast as I could. The water glowed. Two enormous yellow orbs appeared beneath the surface, moving closer, growing larger.

  They look like eyes.

  They broke the surface of the water just in front of me. An enormous monstrous head appeared, just like that of the leviathan I had battled before, only not as ornate and almost twice as large. It was like a great smooth snake, with glowing yellow eyes that took up nearly the whole of its face. A shadow moved within them.

  The monster stared down at me, then the toothless jaw opened wide, so wide it could easily encompass me.

  The head swooped down, gulping water from the surface of the lake the way a pelican would. It was coming straight for me. I turned and tried to swim as fast as I could, but I felt the water around me being pulled toward it, dragging me with it into the mouth.

  I was plunged suddenly into a shallow pool as the jaws closed, encompassing me in darkness. I tried to find my feet and stand, but my feet slipped on smooth metal. It was a machine. Oh, thank the Lord.

  Suddenly the head tipped up.

  My feet crashed against a grate closing off the depths of the throat. Just because it was a machine didn’t mean it couldn’t kill me. I stood on the grate, bracing my hands against the roof of the mouth.

  The water drained down the gullet. Then a moment later the grate opened up and I fell down the narrow, articulated pipe that formed the throat. The last bit of water carried me down in a swift rush, the joints in the articulation bumping my sore hip the entire way down.

  The rushing water deposited me in a wave that washed over a smooth floor. I collapsed onto it, watching the blurred reflection of a pair of lights shine in the large puddle of water.

  “That’s the lot of them,” someone shouted. I coughed, spitting up a lungful of water, my body completely drained.

  “Meg, thank the Lord.” David appeared at my side, drenched but alive and well. He embraced me, pulling me up to sit. I blinked and saw Uncle Albrecht wrapped in a vivid red tartan in the corner.

  “All right, enough,” the deep voice grumbled. “She’s in a right state. Go tend your uncle.”

  David scowled, but a Foundry worker bent and wrapped a dark tartan over my shoulders. He tucked it around me even though the bottom of it was soaking up the puddle. I looked up to thank him and recognized his neatly trimmed beard and the wicked gleam in his eye. It was Will’s friend, Duncan MacBain. I had never been so glad to see a scoundrel.

  “Are you injured, lass?” He patted me on the back as I worked out the last of the water from my lungs. “Ye must’ve swallowed half the lake.”

  “I’ll be fine,” I panted, rubbing my face against the course tartan to dry some of the water.

  “Sorry to say, ye don’t look it.” McBain stood and helped me to my feet. “If you wanted to see William, might I suggest the train next time? It might be a touch safer and less wet.”

  “We didn’t have time.” I couldn’t forget why we were here. “David and I discovered the identity of the saboteur who has been attacking the Academy. He’s here, and he has a bomb.” I coughed again, but MacBain didn’t leave my side. “Please, Duncan, we have to send a message to MacTavish.”

  He smoothed his beard. “There’s no way to send a message out of the hauler.”

  “Hauler?”

  “This ship. It’s used to secretly unload coal or ore from the ships out on the lake. In the cover of night we lift the head onto the deck and use it to scoop material down into this hold. The only reason we’re out here at all is because I saw you come over the hill through the spy glass in the operations room. ’Twas a good thing I found Malcolm to pilot her, or we might not have reached you in time.”

  “How quickly can we get out of this thing?” David asked.

  “We can’t reach MacTavish until we’re settled in the docks. Who is the saboteur, and what is he after?” MacBain answered.

  “It’s the headmaster. He believes MacTavish and his wife had an affair. He’s obsessed with it. He will attempt to destroy something in this Foundry, but I don’t know what,” I said. The floor shifted, making me feel a bit ill with the motion. Duncan helped me to a handrail along the wall. David and Uncle Albrecht joined us.

  “The steamship arrived a few hours ago. He could be anywhere in the Foundry,” MacBain said. The floor shifted again, and then I felt a jolt that nearly knocked me from my feet.

  “Hold tight. The hauler just came up on the docking rails. The chains that bring her up into the docks can get a bit rough.” MacBain widened his stance as the entire vessel started to shake.

  I held on tighter to the handrail. The ship continued to shudder for what must have been fifteen minutes at least. It felt like hours. MacBain didn’t seem concerned.

  “Get ready,” MacBain said. “As soon as the chains pull us all the way up the rails, Malcolm will let us out by opening the belly to dump the cargo. Stay to this side, and when the belly drops, slide down.”

  I had no idea what he was talking about, until suddenly the floor split in half and dropped down at an angle, creating a steep slide. MacBain let go and slid down the floor, dropping through the crack in the center. David followed, as did Albrecht. I didn’t want to let go. I’d had enough of falling, but I had no other choice. I let go of the handrail and slid down the smooth floor. I spread my arms out to try to slow myself, but it did no good, and I dropped through the crack and landed hard on a grate below.

  I could smell coal wafting up from beneath the grate as I gazed down into the empty blackness below me. I feared the grate had imprinted itself upon my cheek.

  David tried to help me up. My hands stung from my landing, but I ignored the pain and got to my feet on my own. “Do not take liberties,” I warned him. He had taken too many already.

  He backed a step, but did not acknowledge what had happened before we jumped off the ship. He looked around. “I knew the Foundry was beneath the ground, but I never imagined anything like this.”

  MacBain was giving Uncle Albrecht a hand. I ducked under the belly of the dragon-shaped vessel we’d been traveling in and looked around.

  We were in a large room easily three times the size of the underground docks at the Academy. Recessed in the arched ceiling was a large fan, spinning furiously as it pushed a cold breeze through the chamber.

  The steamship was d
ocked in a rectangular pool behind us, while the vessel we had been traveling in was now beached, pulled up onto thick rails supported by a large interlocking gear system and two heavy chains. From that perch it could dump its cargo through the grate we were now standing on. Its snakelike head rested on a balcony. One of the eyes had been propped open, and a Foundry worker climbed out of the unusual hatch.

  He descended a ladder and joined us.

  “Where are we?” I asked.

  “As of this moment,” MacBain replied, “we are directly beneath the ruins of Urquhart. As you can see, we’ve taken back the castle. Don’t worry. We won’t let Lawrence destroy it.” MacBain motioned to the other Scot. “Malcolm, take them to MacTavish, right away. I have to get back to the operations room. If anything should happen to the fans on my watch, I won’t hear the end of it. I’ll try to contact MacTavish through the spy glass and warn him. It was good to meet you again, Meg.”

  “Thank you, Duncan,” I said.

  David was settling his uncle onto a bench in the corner of the docks. “Will you be all right here?” he asked.

  “Go, make me proud,” the old man said as he patted David’s hand and gave me a confident nod.

  David kissed him on the cheek, then turned and ran to me.

  “This way,” Malcolm said. I followed him up the ramp, with David in step beside me.

  The tunnel was very similar to the ones in the catacombs beneath the Academy, save one very distinct feature. At every juncture a large rotating fan turned within a shaft in the ceiling, drawing air through the tunnel and creating a surprisingly cold breeze. Even with the fresh air, I could still catch the scent of fire and burning metal up ahead.

  A large hall turned off to the left, and we took it, heading down a set of stairs. Hot air wafted up from the depths. It washed over me like a solid wall of smoke and heat as I entered an enormous room.

  Gigantic blast furnaces radiated heat as large buckets glowing with molten iron drifted slowly above, suspended by enormous chains.

  The room seemed cast in fire, and the dark shadows of men moved in front of the glowing ironworks. Steam rose off my clothing. I’d never known such heat. Even with three enormous fans in the ceiling of the large room, it was as if I’d just stepped into the fires of hell.

  A man strode toward us down the central aisle. Thick black boots had been laced to his knees. A sleek black leather kilt hung around his waist. Instead of a sporran a belt of heavy tools hung at his hip. His hands were clad in large leather gloves, and his chest was strapped in a leather waistcoat that buckled to his neck. He wore no shirtsleeves, and sweat glistened on his bare arms. Soot slashed across his rough cheeks, and a pair of dark goggles hid his eyes.

  He walked with purpose. Like some god of the forge, he strode toward me, and I forgot to breathe. Suddenly it was too hot and I needed air.

  Lifting his goggles, he looked down on me, and I don’t recall how I managed to stay on my feet.

  Will.

  “What in the name of the Devil are you doing here?” he asked, his normally placid face barely containing his shock. He slowly took in the state of my clothing, and his breathing turned ragged.

  I felt exposed to him, every vulnerability laid bare before him.

  “And what happened to your dress?” he asked.

  David reached my side. “That’s hardly a concern.”

  As fast as a lunging cat, Will grabbed David by the shirtfront and pulled him nearly off his feet. “You have no say in what is and is not a concern, especially here.”

  Dear God, while the state of my dress was worth a lifetime of mortification, we had a man with a bomb to find.

  “Will, put him down.” My tone left no room for argument.

  He reluctantly released David’s shirt. David violently straightened his sleeves and said, “The Foundry is in serious danger, MacDonald.”

  Will crossed his bare arms against the leather waistcoat. “I’m sure we can handle whatever it is without you.”

  “Will, please. We have come to stop a terrible disaster.” A muscle in Will’s cheek twitched as I said the word “we.” Now was not the time for jealousy. We had to act fast before disaster struck.

  I grabbed Will by his waistcoat and pulled him aside. “I came here to save your life because I love you, damn it. Not him, you. If you don’t listen to me now, I swear . . .” He had the courtesy to look surprised. I continued, “Headmaster Lawrence discovered MacTavish had an affair with his wife, and he’s out for revenge. He repaired the bomb that we found in the toy shop, and he plans to use it here. We have to find MacTavish before it’s too late.”

  Something changed in Will’s eyes. They softened, turning as black as the deepest night. I saw once more the man who unfailingly believed in me and fought by my side. “MacTavish was with Lawrence. They went to discuss arrangements for the Automaton Ball in the study.”

  I believe my heart stopped. “We may be too late. Hurry!”

  Will led the way through the ironworks and up a long flight of stairs. At the end of a hall, he turned, then burst in through a door on his left.

  I followed so closely behind him, I ran into him as he stopped cold in his tracks.

  MacTavish was lying facedown in the center of the floor. A spilled glass of Scotch whisky rested near his head, filling the room with the sharp smell of the drink.

  No one moved. No one spoke. It was as if we were all waiting for him to pick himself up off the ground and brush himself off. I regained my senses and stepped past Will into the room. The look on Will’s face almost ripped my heart in two. He looked as if he were lost, adrift once again without a father to lead him.

  David pushed past into the room as well and gently turned the dead man over. “Dear God, how did it come to this?” he whispered.

  I tried to clear my head, but the horror of murder cut too deep. I knelt beside the Foundry master as he stared lifelessly back at me. I had no doubt who had killed him. The question was how. A faint mark marred his neck, nearly covered by his dark beard. I almost didn’t notice it.

  “He’s been strangled,” I said. “Headmaster Lawrence must have strangled him.” I reached out and gently closed MacTavish’s eyes.

  We stood as Will came forward and placed his palm over MacTavish’s heart. David tried to gather me in his arms. “What a dreadful sight. Are you feeling faint?” He led me toward a chair. “Come, sit.”

  “Dammit, David. We’re all going to look like him if we don’t stop Lawrence,” I snapped. “Stop treating me like I’m made of glass.”

  “Lawrence got what he was after. MacTavish is dead,” David argued.

  “He’s after the truth,” I shouted. “And he won’t feel he has it until the Amusementists allow him to use that horrible machine on his wife. He still intends to destroy this Foundry, mark my words. And now he has a murder to hide. We’re wasting time.”

  Will muttered a prayer under his breath as he gripped MacTavish’s tartan.

  One thing didn’t make sense. “Why would Lawrence strangle MacTavish? If Lawrence wanted him dead, there are faster and easier methods,” I said. MacTavish was a large man, and Lawrence was not. A knife in the back would have been so much simpler.

  David considered the dead body. “Lawrence has been taking extreme measures to cover his involvement in the sabotage. Perhaps he wished to make this look like an accident. If we didn’t know of his murderous intentions, it would seem MacTavish had choked. Lawrence can hardly use his machine on his wife unless he can return to London free of suspicion.”

  Choked. I looked up at the ceiling at the fan spinning over my head.

  Air.

  “Where does this cool air come from?” I asked, even as my mind was working at a furious pace.

  “Is this really the time to marvel at the ventilation system, Meg?” David asked.

  Will looked up, but then answered my question in a tight voice. “Fresh air is drawn in from hidden vents in the hills and passed through pipes in the lake. Th
e lake water cools it, and the fans keep it flowing through the Foundry.”

  “What of the exhaust from the blast furnaces?” I asked.

  “All dangerous exhaust goes through separate tunnels and vents high on the mountain.”

  That was it. That was the connection.

  “Will, where would you go if you wished to disable the entire fan system?” If a barrier were broken between the two tunnel systems, the poisonous gases from the blast furnaces would circulate through the cool air system, and everyone in the Foundry would die of suffocation.

  And then nothing would point to MacTavish as the target, and the headmaster could go back to the Order with his spurious claims of sabotage.

  “All the fans are maintained through the operation room,” Will answered. “Duncan is watching over them today.”

  “That’s where we’ll find the headmaster.” I just hoped we would reach him in time.

  CHAPTER THIRTY-TWO

  AS WE RUSHED THROUGH THE tunnels and corridors of the Foundry, I prayed to God I was right. Because if we didn’t find the headmaster in time, the tunnels would become our crypt.

  “This way.” Will ran through the twisting passages without error, even though I had lost all sense of direction and it felt to me as if we were running in circles. It was taking too long. Every time we turned a corner, another long corridor awaited us. We would never get there in time.

  Finally we reached the operation room.

  I burst in through the door, only to step in a pool of blood. I screamed and jumped back.

  Duncan lay at my feet, holding a seeping wound in his side and gasping for breath.

  No.

  I knelt beside him and tried to press against the wound. It bubbled beneath my palm. Will fell to his knees on the other side of his friend.

  “Duncan,” he urged. “Duncan, you listen to me. You will not die. Do ye hear me?”

  Duncan shuddered, then lifted his hand to point at a large open grate in the base of the wall. “Through there?” I asked, as his blood seeped through my fingers.

  He nodded. “Repair tunnel, main pit fans,” he whispered. Will clasped his hand.