Rise of the Arcane Fire (The Secret Order)

by Bailey, Kristin

  “Duncan, stay here with us,” Will demanded.

  Duncan drew a labored breath and looked up at Will. “Tell Molly I’m sorry. Tell her I was wrong to doubt her. I should have told her . . . I love . . .” Then the last shuddering breath left his body.

  A scalding tear slid over my cheek.

  Will pulled his friend close and rocked with him as he choked back his tears. I stared down at the hot blood on my hands, not knowing what to do.

  David knelt beside me and pressed his fingers to Duncan’s neck. “He’s gone,” he pronounced. David looked as if a piece of his neatly ordered world had shattered.

  A guttural roar came from Will, like the sound of a wounded animal. He reached to his boot and pulled out a short knife, then charged for the grate.

  “Will!” I ran after him and ducked into the grate. A long tunnel stretched out before me, tall enough that I could walk, so long as I hunched over at my waist. It was dark, and I couldn’t see, but I followed. David entered the tunnel just behind me.

  “Meg, it’s too dangerous. Let him go after Lawrence,” David called.

  “I can’t.”

  With every footfall, I imagined the ticking of the bomb. I could see the little spider striking the flint as it traveled slowly down the line. We were running out of time.

  My palms felt sticky as I ran them along the smooth walls of the tunnel. My hair swirled around my face from the cold wind coursing past us.

  Suddenly we came to a branch in the tunnels. One led to the right, one to the left, and one straight on.

  Will hesitated. In the junction there was slightly more room, and I was able to come up beside him.

  “Which way?” I asked, though I realized the question was pointless. Will couldn’t know which one Lawrence had chosen.

  Will paled. “We have to split up,” he said, his voice breaking as he said it. “I’ll go left. Meg, take the middle. David, you go right.”

  David hesitated only a moment. He looked Will in the eye, then nodded and turned down his tunnel. I stepped forward, but Will grabbed my arm.

  “If you find him, come back here. I’ll confront him.”

  “Damn it, Will,” I said. We didn’t have time for this.

  “I can’t see you hurt, Meg. I can’t.”

  I had opened my mouth to curse his stubbornness, when his fingers laced into the hair at my nape. He dragged me forward and kissed me. I nearly lost my balance as his lips crushed to mine. He poured all the desperate pain of his soul into his kiss.

  His lips felt as hot and liquid as the molten iron below us, and I drank it in. I kissed him back with all the love and devotion I felt in my heart. This was not goodbye.

  Never.

  He broke the kiss, breathing heavily. “Stay safe.”

  I nodded. “You too.”

  He pushed forward and kissed me again with searing intensity, then broke the kiss and turned down the tunnel to the left.

  Taking a fortifying breath, I tried to ignore my shaking legs as I felt my way down the tunnel. I could see a red light glowing not that far ahead.

  I crept toward it as silently as I could. I could hear the noise from the pit and the roar of the fan drawing cold air past me, as if it were pulling me toward it.

  The tunnel opened up to a scaffold that reached across a great pit. Down the center of the stone shaft, a wide axle turned, spinning a fan easily twenty feet across. The scaffolding reached out to the main shaft, circled around it, and then continued on to the far side of the shaft, where enormous clockwork gears turned, providing the power for the fan.

  Beneath the clockwork gears Lawrence hunched over the bomb. I placed my feet carefully, stepping silently across the scaffolding.

  Unfortunately, I made the mistake of looking down. Straight through the grate beneath my feet, the fan spun, looking like a whirling blade. Beyond that the glowing fires of the forge waited. I tiptoed quickly until I reached the circle of scaffolding that surrounded the axle of the fan.

  Lawrence rose, his normally slicked and neat hair flying wildly around his face, making him look like the madman he was. I caught my breath and instinctively turned my body sideways so I could conceal myself behind the spinning pipe. The headmaster watched the grate beneath his feet and didn’t look up as every step brought him closer. He’d see me. Hell, he’d hear my heartbeat over the fan if he came any nearer. I had to reach the bomb. I edged around the scaffolding, careful to keep the spinning shaft between us. Once I heard him on the straight walkway back to the tunnel, I crept toward the bomb, praying the grate beneath my feet wouldn’t creak or rattle.

  Finally I reached the bomb and pulled it away from the back wall. My foot slipped, and I fell back against the rail, sending a loud shudder through the entire scaffold.

  Lawrence turned, standing at the mouth of the tunnel and blocking my only way out.

  “How did you get here?” he shouted, rushing toward me. I ran forward too, afraid of being trapped against the back wall.

  As he moved left, I moved right, keeping the axle between us. After taking a large step, he hesitated, then shifted back to protect the scaffolding that led to the tunnel out.

  “I won’t let you destroy the Foundry,” I shouted over the noise of the fan.

  Lawrence let out a bitter laugh. “You can’t stop the bomb now. I made sure of it.”

  Just as he’d said, the casing no longer had exposed gears to jam, and I could feel the slight twitch each time the spider struck the flint, but it had been encased in a solid tube. I didn’t know how much time we had.

  “Now, be a good girl and put the bomb down. If you run fast, you might be able to escape,” he coaxed. “But time is running out.”

  “You won’t let me escape. I know what you did.” The wind from the fan swirled around me even as I smelled the sulfur from the fires below. “This won’t hide murder.”

  “You always were a clever girl. Genius, really.” He gave me a slight smile, but it never reached the murderous intent in his eyes. “I’m not surprised you found me out.”

  “I don’t understand why,” I said as I shifted my weight so I could remain light on my feet.

  “I loved her!” Lawrence shouted. “I gave her everything—wealth, status—and she never loved me. She gave me a bastard instead of a son.” His eyes were wild, his features gaunt and unhinged with pain.

  The thought of feeling deep love for someone who didn’t return the affection was terrible, lies and deception were terrible, heartbreak was terrible, but there were many things that were far worse. “That’s still no cause for murder. What of Duncan? What was his crime against you? And what of the other men you would crush and suffocate with this bomb? What is their great sin?”

  He lunged, and I dodged, leaping forward as he crashed into the railing. A bolt popped off and pinged as it fell. Lawrence charged at me again, but this time I lifted up and spun in a perfect pirouette past him.

  Grasping for my dress, he barely caught the edge of my hacked-off skirt. It wasn’t enough, and the weakened fabric ripped as he pulled. His momentum carried him back and into the rail. He crashed into it, his torso thrown way back. He spun his hands through the air, the bit of red fabric from my skirt waving like a flag.

  At that same moment I jumped toward the way out. The scaffolding shifted, and Lawrence tipped backward over the edge.

  I watched him fall, his arms out helplessly at his sides, a look of terror on his face. Time seemed to slow as he dropped away, the fan turning like an executioner’s blade beneath him.

  Shutting my eyes tight, I huddled into a ball, and I heard his body hit the fan. The axle and scaffolding shuddered, and I let go of the breath I’d been holding, even as I heard the shouts of horror from the men below.

  My arms cradled the bomb against my chest. Relief flooded through me. I had it at last.

  Then I realized exactly what I was holding.

  Run!

  I felt the ticking like the frantic beat of my heart as I rushed throu
gh the tunnels. I ran straight through.

  “Meg, what happened?” Will called as we collided halfway down my own passage.

  “I have the bomb. Go!” I shouted at him. He wasted no time, and he charged forward. David met us at the junction. He didn’t even ask as we all ran toward the speck of light at the end of the very narrow tunnel.

  I burst out into the control room and continued on into the halls without stopping.

  “Lawrence?” David asked.

  “Dead. Fell into the fan. How do we rid ourselves of this thing?”

  “We’ll disarm it like last time,” Will said. “We just need to find wire.”

  “We can’t. He tampered with it.” I held the bomb out away from my body, not wanting to touch it any longer but not wanting to put it down, either. “Can we use the hauler to get it into the lake?”

  Will shook his head. “We couldn’t launch the hauler in time. We need to throw it over the ramparts.”

  David let out a panicked laugh. “Fine plan. I suppose you keep a catapult lying around.”

  “We don’t have a catapult,” Will answered, “but we do have a trebuchet. It’s in the storeroom. Hurry.”

  “They have a trebuchet in the storeroom,” David said under his breath as we rushed down a spiral stair.

  Will didn’t bother to look back as he found his way through the tunnels like a hound on a hare. “We have it for projectile experiments to test the armor on certain Amusements. Cannon fire tends to make the villagers nervous.” Will turned a corner.

  “Admit it, you like to fling rocks into the lake.” David matched Will stride for stride. Will just shrugged.

  As we ran through the corridors, other Foundry workers joined ranks. Lawrence’s body falling into the pit had stirred them up like wasps from a nest. Will did his best to explain what had happened as a large crowd formed at a set of huge doors. I tried to ignore the blood splattered across some of their faces.

  “Get them open,” Will called, and the Scots fell upon the doors.

  I nearly dropped the bomb.

  Inside the enormous storeroom various parts and pieces of Amusements had been carefully organized and stacked from the floor to the ceiling. To the left, in a disturbingly gruesome display, disembodied automaton parts lay in a pile, like a horrid mass grave, while gears and armatures, large curving articulated plates, and even a severed dragon head filled the rest of the room. At first I had wondered why they had a trebuchet. Now I marveled at the fact that they didn’t have a catapult. It seemed like every other earthly invention could be found in this room.

  “We need the trebuchet!” Will shouted. The Scots descended and removed the piles of other scraps from the large siege weapon. It only took them moments to free it from the rest of the parts and push it out into the hall.

  The Foundry men shouted and surged together as they rolled the weapon down the hall and onto a large platform surrounded by moving gears.

  “Meg, come on.” Will offered me a hand as a crush of people climbed up onto the trebuchet. I perched on the frame next to the wheel, clinging to the bomb that still ticked steadily in my arms.

  It could go off at any moment.

  I tried not to think about it, but with each click I imagined the bomb exploding, ripping through my body and destroying everyone around me.

  Time was our enemy, as it slipped away.

  The platform we were on shuddered and groaned as the gears surrounding us turned, lifting us up toward the ceiling. I looked up, only to see the iron underside of the ceiling split and rise up, exposing the midmorning sun.

  We rose out of the ground and came to a stop, perched on a hill in the central bailey of the castle, with the tower to our left and the ruins of the main structures of the castle and great hall ahead of us. Beyond that the placid blue waters of the lake stretched on for miles.

  David shielded his eyes as he looked out at the water, but the Scots wasted no time. They climbed onto the trebuchet and quickly extended and locked the arm. Two men scrambled up the length of the arm and then hung off, tipping the lever to the ground as the counterweight bucket rose into the air. They set the trigger.

  I handed off the bomb to a man in a green tartan, and he fixed it easily into the sling.

  Something was wrong.

  “There’s no counterweight,” I shouted. “It won’t fire.”

  “You there, stones!” one of the Scots shouted, and a group of them charged down the hill toward the ruins of the tower. It would take all day to fill the bucket with rocks. We didn’t have the time.

  Perfect. We found ourselves atop a hill with a siege weapon that couldn’t fire. I glanced around at the men. It didn’t matter how strong they were, they’d never carry enough rocks in time.

  “Run!” David shouted.

  We needed mass.

  Mass.

  “No!” I screamed. Everyone turned to look at me. “Into the counterweight,” I shouted. “All of you. As many as will fit. Hurry!”

  “Bloody brilliant,” Will said as he scrambled up the framework for the trebuchet and jumped into the counterweight bucket. David followed, and Will offered him a hand in.

  Soon the rest of the horde joined them, climbing over the frame and pulling themselves into the crowded bucket. Several of them who couldn’t fit within the bucket clung to the front and back.

  “Now, Meg!” Will shouted. I threw myself against the triggering mechanism and then stumbled backward as the counterweight dropped. The men in the counterweight shouted a Highland war cry as they swung down and beneath the belly of the machine, and the long arm flung the bomb high into the air and over the lake.

  I held my breath as I lost sight of it over the water.

  My heart beat.

  Again.

  Boom!

  I felt the force of the blast like a blow to my chest, and my ears stung from the sound. I covered them but didn’t turn away as an enormous plume of water launched into the air.

  Tears gathered in my eyes as I listened to the water splattering back down onto the surface of the lake.

  The shouts and cheers of the Foundry men drowned out the ringing in my ears. Overwhelmed, I stumbled on the edge of the platform, but Will caught me, held me close to his chest, and swung me around as the Foundry men slapped at us, still cheering.

  David remained at the edge of the group, his arms crossed as he gave me a regal nod. I returned the gesture. I never would have made it without him, and for that I’d always be grateful.

  “Bloody well done, lass!” Malcolm shouted, slapping me so hard on the back, I lost my breath. “We’ll never use stones again.”

  “Now look what you did,” Will admonished, but he smiled at me. All the shadow of doubt had left his eyes. He was safe, and alive. Nothing could have meant more to me.

  CHAPTER THIRTY-THREE

  SEVERAL WEEKS LATER, AFTER THE cuts and bruises had healed, even the deep one at the base of my thumb, and some of the endless questions about what had happened had begun to abate, I entered the ballroom of Chadwick manor for the Automaton Ball.

  The ballroom glittered with lights and gaiety. Large sprays of flowers adorned the tables and the walls. In the corner musicians played as the Amusementists danced. I walked over to the musicians for a closer look, and they stared back at me in their powdered wigs and eighteenth-century costumes. Of course, “stared” wasn’t really the correct word, since every single one of the musicians had a smooth featureless face that reflected my own image back at me.

  The first time I had set foot in this house, I had been in rags and in hiding in the servants’ quarters below stairs. The entire house had been deserted. Now I looked around at the crowded ballroom filled with light and laughter, and at my own reflection.

  I barely recognized myself.

  The fabric of my ball gown hardly needed adorning. It was a delicate floral paisley pattern in cream over pale blue that looked like it belonged in a royal tapestry. A frothy collar of glittering glass beads and lace swe
pt across my chest, meeting in lovely blue-and-cream folds of bows that hung off my bare shoulders like the petals of an iris.

  Around my neck I wore the clockwork key, polished to a dazzling silver. In that moment I felt like something more than a simple shopkeeper, even more than an apprentice.

  I turned around and noticed the Duke of Chadwick coming toward me. His eye patch was gone, and while his injured eye still squinted just slightly, he looked as handsome and well as I had ever seen him.

  “Meg, so good to see you.” Oliver greeted me with his new bride on his arm. Lucinda smiled warmly.

  “You look stunning,” she offered, taking my hands.

  I turned to Oliver. “Congratulations, Headmaster.” It seemed all the wounds that Lawrence had inflicted were slowly healing, and I couldn’t be happier for the both of them, though I wondered what had become of Samuel. No one had seen either him or his mother since the incident at the Foundry.

  “Have you heard any news on the ship?” I asked. For the last few weeks Oliver had been using his connections to try to help me find the ship that the man in the clockwork mask had escaped upon.

  “I’m sorry. My men traced its last known route to France, but there’s been no sign of it since.” He placed a hand on my arm and gave me a gentle squeeze. “Don’t worry, Meg. We’ll save your grandfather.”

  I sighed. I wanted to believe him, but I feared I’d be too late.

  “Meg!” Peter trotted up to us, then realized who I was talking to and reverently bowed his head in apology. “Excuse me, Headmaster. We’re almost ready for the first dance.”

  “Of course,” Oliver said, laughing at us as Peter dragged me to the center of the ballroom. My friends were standing back in a small group, looking pleased with themselves. I greeted them warmly, kissing each of their cheeks, though Michael blushed so furiously, he looked like he’d suddenly taken fever. Manoj looked particularly fetching in his native clothing as he gave me a short bow of his head in appreciation. Noah stood close to Peter and leaned over to say something near his ear. They were the finest friends I could imagine, and my heart felt full to bursting with pride for what we had done.