The Conquering Dark

by Clay Griffith

  Nick stepped in front of her.

  Walker narrowed his eyes. “Your heroism won’t save her.”

  “I don’t do heroism, mate.” Nick raised his hands again and closed his eyes. He gritted his teeth and suppressed a scream. His fingers twisted into a fist. An arc of lightning crackled out and enveloped Walker in a sheen of blue. The hunter shrieked, but it was silent under the snapping of electricity. Walker convulsed, bending at the waist. The javelin arrow blackened and fell from his fingers. Smoke rose from around his torso and he took two steps back. His metal feet hit the edge of the terrace and he dropped hard, cracking the stones. Walker rolled back down the steps with a thundering sound, then crashed to a wheezing halt of powerless machinery.

  Nick gasped for breath and fell against a pillar. Kate reached for him, but he waved her off. His hands were red and blistered.

  Kate said quietly, “I didn’t know you could summon lightning.”

  “I don’t do it often.” Nick tried to sound tough, but he wasn’t successful. “Now I remember why.”

  Hogarth staggered back up the steps to the veranda, sparing an impressed glance at Nick, and went to where Ishwar was still struggling to untie the cords around his true self. Hogarth pulled a small dagger from his boot and cut the ropes. The real Ishwar flopped onto the floor and groaned. Their Ishwar suddenly froze in place and began to transform into loamy soil. Hogarth and Kate helped the newly conscious vivimancer into a sitting position. She looked at the collapsing mound of mud with some regret.

  Nick pushed himself to his feet with a groan and started unsteadily toward the edge of the terrace, muttering something to himself. Kate turned to warn him to be careful, when his body jerked as if hit by a powerful blow and he flew back to slam into one of the columns. He hung there, shaking uncontrollably, his feet dangling above the paving stones. A glowing javelin protruded from his chest, pinning him to the stone pillar like an insect in a collection.

  “Nick!” Kate shouted and started toward him.

  A steady stream of blood ran from Nick’s body and stained the snowdrift red. His eyes were open and he struggled to breathe. His jaw hung slack and red liquid dribbled from his lips. Hogarth joined Kate and put his strong hand on the now cold javelin. Behind them, they heard the whirring of Walker’s machinery and thudding footfalls coming up the steps. Kate motioned for Hogarth to free Nick as she turned to look out over the snowy terrace. She brandished her weapons, listening to the grinding sound of metal limbs drawing nearer.

  Ishwar leaned weakly between columns. “I will see to your friend.”

  Hogarth slowly pulled the long steel lance from Nick’s chest, eliciting a pathetic grunt of pain from the wounded man. He caught the bloody figure in his powerful arms and set Nick down next to Ishwar, who was struggling to his knees.

  “Katie!” Walker’s voice rang out. He was still out of sight and the sounds of his movement had ceased. “Come out, Katie! I can come up and get you, but make it easy on yourself. I’m going to kill you and cut off your head so I can show it to your father one day, just before I dismember him.”

  Kate stayed quiet, watching Ishwar place his swollen bloody hands on Nick’s slack face. The vivimancer closed his eyes and began to chant quietly.

  From inside the entry hall, a sudden blinding light shot up from the floor beneath Simon’s boot and knocked him onto his back. The key’s runic symbol glowed from the flagstone and the air began to shimmer a few feet above it. The usual circle of disruption swirled into being. This time, however, it was horizontal, like a pool of weirdness a few inches thick hanging above the ground. The world map appeared and a new dot flickered to life nearly on top of the spot already located in Nepal.

  From the floor, Simon laughed in triumph and turned expectantly to find the others. When he took in the frightful faces on the far side of the columns, and saw the blood-drenched form of Nick, he scrambled toward them frantically. “Good God. What happened?”

  A shadow rose up at the edge of the terrace with a sudden roar of machinery. Walker appeared again and charged at Kate. She had been looking at Nick, and was surprised by the sudden appearance of Simon who rushed past her, shouting an ancient word in a fury. Walker was fast and a metal fist swept out. Simon barely had time to get his hands up before a great weight crashed against him like a battering ram. Before he could recover, a steel hand clamped his neck.

  Simon grabbed the metal fingers in a grip to rival the hunter’s. His other hand struck at Walker’s unprotected head, tearing at the inhuman eyes. The hunter howled and flung his head back, but his grip only loosened slightly. Sparks flared in Simon’s vision as more and more oxygen was denied him.

  Kate appeared and thrust Simon’s glowing sword into Walker’s side. It slipped through the metal easily. She spun with a ragged cry, dragging the blade out Walker’s back, hoping to rip through his spine. The big man reeled backward and kicked out at Kate, forcing her to leap away.

  Simon slammed his palm into the elbow of the arm that held him, inward and down, forcing him closer. He crashed his forehead into the hunter’s face. Blood spurted as Walker’s lips and nose split. He roared. The hold lessened and Simon sucked in a lungful of air. He took Walker’s arm and twisted it around, forcing the steel ball and joint at the shoulder to creak with unexpected strain. A whine built up as the gears tried to compensate.

  Walker’s eyes widened as he realized Simon was much more than human. The hunter released his hold because his arm was partially torn from its socket. Simon leaned back, yanking Walker off balance. Slowly rotating into a spin like a hammer thrower, he pulled the stumbling hunter along. The mechanical man couldn’t keep up, hopping and finally lifting off the ground. Simon let go and hurled the huge man away. Stones and ice broke away as the mechanized man slid along the terrace. The metal body collided with several columns, which cracked at their bases and toppled in a ground-shaking crash.

  Steel hands pressed against the ground and Walker gained his feet, rotating his shoulder and loosening the laboring pistons and joints. To Simon’s stunned surprise, Walker’s machinery shifted and moved like a living thing as the dangling arm was pulled back into its socket. The metal was repairing itself.

  Kate fired two vials at once and they crashed against Walker’s chest in a cloud of green smoke. Acid began to eat away at the steel, but as fast as it was destroyed, new sections ratcheted into its place.

  Simon grabbed one of the broken columns. It was thick and pitted and cold under his hands. His fingers dug deep into the cracks. He swung it at Walker, who put out his arms to catch it. The force of the blow struck the hunter square in the chest and sent him airborne. He flew off the terrace, crashed once on the steps with an explosion of stone, bounced, and rolled uncontrollably through the dirt over the lip of a temple tank where he landed with a high plume of water.

  Simon was already in motion, racing for the cistern. He would have preferred Nick’s assistance, but there was no time. If Nick was even still alive. Shoving the image of his friend’s bleeding body from his mind, Simon vaulted down the steps and slid onto his knees in front of the temple tank. Its expanse would call for ample quantities of aether and Simon beckoned all he could.

  Walker was already striding along the bottom of the cistern beneath ten feet of water. Simon scrabbled in his pocket and found the stump of chalk he usually carried. He had no idea how long that mechanical horror could hold his breath, but Simon intended to find out. He scribed a simple rune on one corner of the tank. Walker looked up through the churning water and actually grinned at Simon.

  Freezing water was one of the first spells any scribe practiced. Simon had barely placed his hand on the rune and spoken a word when ice began to crystallize faster than nature allowed. The fracturing crystals groaned and creaked as a thin layer of ice spread across the surface of the tank. Walker still moved unencumbered at the bottom, but the ice was reproducing wildly thanks to the aether urging it on. The crystals extended deeper, growing larger as they went.
Simon watched as Walker’s movements became slower and slower in the thickening water. The hunter abruptly stopped in midstep, trapped in the embrace of the ice.

  Breathing heavily, Simon shoved himself to his feet and ran back up to the terrace. Ishwar still worked over Nick’s motionless body. The pool of blood around them was wide. Ishwar rocked up and down. He dug two fingers into Nick’s mouth and grasped the jaw of the dying man. A rush of aether burst from Ishwar and traveled into Nick.

  Nick gagged and tried to sit up. He pushed the strange fingers from his mouth. He glanced around in confusion. Simon gasped out in relief and turned grateful eyes on Ishwar. The old man nodded wearily.

  “The Stone…” he urged.

  “We’re ready to go.” Simon helped Nick to his feet.

  The group returned to the entry hall and approached the new portal swirling above the floor. Then the sound of shattering ice came from outside.

  Kate took a heavy breath. “Jesus. He doesn’t stop, does he?”

  With more pounding steps, Walker soon appeared at the edge of the veranda. His eyes were fierce. Rivulets of blood and slush poured off him. Any damage had been repaired as if it had never been. He stomped across the terrace and kicked one of the columns, smashing the stone pillar into pieces. Huge chunks of stone flew into the entry hall, tumbling past Simon and his group.

  The hunter glared at Simon, clutching one remaining javelin. “I see now who is the most powerful. Why didn’t I kill you first?”

  “Because you’re ridiculously stupid.” Simon started toward the metal man. “And we’ve had just about enough of you. Kate, my sword.”

  She tossed the glowing blade, which Simon caught out of the air. Then she dropped her crossbow and drew her sword and pistol. She sprinted toward Walker while Simon and Hogarth ran at him from different directions. The hunter raised the javelin and let it fly at Kate. She caught the deadly missile with her sword, barely deflecting it away.

  Kate raised the gun and fired. The ball penetrated flesh at the hunter’s hip and the man grunted. He turned toward her, towering over the woman. He leveled a decapitating blow at her. Kate ducked and plunged her blade up under his massive metal arm. It cut into flesh, but quickly struck steel and turned aside.

  With a roar, Walker’s arm came down and caught Kate before she could escape. He crushed her against his chest and laughed. “You’re still an insufferable little wretch. All of you Anstruthers think you’re nobility, but you’re no better than me.”

  “God forbid.” Kate gasped for air. She dropped her pistol and scrabbled at the bandolier with thick-gloved fingers.

  Hogarth leapt onto Walker’s back and wrenched his powerful arm around the hunter’s neck. Simon hacked at the hunter’s leg with his glowing blue sword, slicing through struts and cables, causing the mechanical man to lurch.

  “Damn you! You always did have large dogs around.” Walker twisted violently and Hogarth’s legs collided with Simon. The hunter smashed backward into a column, crushing the manservant but unable to dislodge him. He came forward, legs grinding, and drove back again. The column cracked and Hogarth grunted in pain, but kept his tight lock around Walker’s neck.

  Simon latched onto the metal wrist holding Kate. He could feel her struggling under Walker’s grasp. A tattoo flared, and with intense effort, he dragged the steel arm out, giving Kate an inch of space to breathe.

  “Too late, Archer!” Walker shrieked. “She’s not leaving my embrace alive.”

  Kate’s hand plunged under Walker’s tattered regimental tunic. She quickly drew it back out and smashed her open palm against a small lump under the wool cloth. Glass shattered. Walker hesitated, unsure of what he felt. Then he screamed.

  “Hogarth!” Kate shouted. “Get off!”

  As the manservant abandoned his grip on the hunter, Simon wrenched the steel arm back and sliced through the wrist with his sword. The clawed hand fell to the temple floor with a heavy clang. Kate pushed free from Walker, and she and Simon ran away from the thrashing hunter as blue fire blossomed from him.

  Walker stumbled forward, cursing and flailing at his burning chest. Kate’s Greek fire ate into steel and flesh alike, burning faster than the machinery could repair itself. Walker looked up in agonizing horror and dropped heavily to his knees.

  “Nothing clever to say?” Kate glared viciously at him. “I’ll give my sister your regards. You may give our regards to Colonel Hibbert in hell.”

  Simon watched Walker’s massive frame collapse to the floor. The crackling sound of the eldritch fire accented the melting of failing gears. Walker’s scream dissolved into a gurgling silence as the flames licked up at the last bit of remaining flesh. In the midst of the burning morass, Simon saw a small crystal, glowing green with aether. But then Kate’s fire caught it as well and the crystal broke into colorless shards.

  Simon walked with Kate, putting a hand against her stiff back. She looked at him with eyes that were cold and distant. Simon’s breath locked in his chest. Though he had told the king they weren’t assassins for the Crown, their hands were bloodied. And worse, it wasn’t his hands alone. The purest of them were now tainted. There were no words of consolation he could offer. He let her alone and returned to the wall where the Stone of Scone resided.

  The sound of the wind swirling in the smashed foyer could be heard throughout Hartley Hall. It was a breezy evening with a hint of autumn chilling the house. Certainly it was far warmer than the frozen landscape of Nepal where they had left the grateful Ishwar after he refused their kind offer to return with them. Kate sat staring out at the light of the setting sun through the trees. She preferred the Blue Parlor to the library now because some of the landscape in the rear of the house had survived. The vestiges of the old gardens calmed her. She was also warmed by the sound of Imogen’s soft breathing. Her sister sat on the sofa next to her with her head on Kate’s shoulder. She had drifted off to sleep almost an hour ago. Her little hedgehog curled on her lap, making drowsy snorting sounds. Kate knew she should send Imogen off to bed—tomorrow would be a grueling day—but she couldn’t bear to wake her.

  Her thoughts strayed to the last blood test she had run on Imogen. She had incorporated elements of the active substance that Penny had discovered in the key. Kate was convinced there had been a transformation in Imogen’s inhuman blood; it seemed to have changed color to a deeper red. She knew she was on the right path to grasping the biological mechanism of Imogen’s alteration. She was gaining on Dr. White’s knowledge of advanced alchemy. Soon, she would catch him and undo his vile work.

  Charlotte lay on the floor near the popping coal grate. She hummed happily and drew pictures. Lying beside her was Aethelred, his warm brown eyes watched Charlotte furiously sketching. The girl needed little sleep. Her fire burned hot at all times. Kate watched the small hand grasping a thick pencil; that hand would soon turn huge and violent and deal out death. It was still an incomprehensible thing.

  Kate shoved those thoughts from her head. “What are you drawing, dear? Is it a cow?”

  Charlotte looked at Kate with indignation. “A cow? No!” She held up the large sheet, tugging it free from under the dog’s chin. It was the back of a strip of wallpaper from one of the house’s wrecked walls. “It’s Mr. Malcolm!”

  “Oh?” Kate squinted at the dark shape. “Oh. Yes, of course. I see it clearly. Is that his…arm?”

  “It’s his gun.” Charlotte raised her pencil toward the window like the barrel of a pistol. “Boom! Boom!”

  “Shh, dear.” Kate glanced stiffly at her sister, who hadn’t moved. “Imogen is sleeping.”

  Charlotte clamped a hand over her mouth, and mumbled, “Sorry.”

  Kate smiled and consulted the clock on the mantel. “It’s time for your wulfsyl.” She made a mental note to test the latest batch precipitating in the laboratory.

  The girl huffed. “Can I wait for few more minutes?” Wulfsyl was usually the sign it was time for bed.

  Kate knew it was best to prese
rve routine, particularly during chaotic times, but again, she wanted to sit in the quiet parlor with her two girls for a while longer. “Very well. Just a few minutes.”

  “Thank you. Who should I draw now?”

  “Whom should I draw now? Why don’t you draw yourself?”

  Charlotte pursed her lips in doubt. “No. I’m not good at hair.”

  “All right. What about Imogen?”

  “She doesn’t like it.”

  Kate tilted her head in confusion. “What do you mean?”

  “I drew her once last winter, but she got mad and tore it up.”

  “Was it a mean drawing?”

  “No!” Charlotte covered her mouth again. “No. It was nice. It looked like her, and she didn’t like it.”

  Kate felt a sharp pang in her chest at the thought of Imogen confronting a drawing of her mutated appearance. She reached up and laid a gentle hand on her sister’s cheek. Imogen stirred restlessly, then settled back against Kate with a sigh.

  Charlotte rolled back onto her paper and brandished her pencil. “I’ll draw you and Mr. Simon.”

  “All right. That sounds nice.”

  Charlotte started scribbling. “Miss Kate, are you going to marry Mr. Simon?”

  “I don’t know, dear.” Kate chuckled as she stroked Imogen’s misshapen hand. “Do you think I should?”

  “I think you should. He’s funny.”

  “Yes, he is funny. But he hasn’t asked me to marry him.”

  “He will.”

  “Well, I’ll make that decision when he does.”

  Charlotte bolted up with sudden alarm. Her face was stricken. “You won’t say no, will you?”

  “Calm yourself, dear. Are you that worried about it?”

  Charlotte’s lower lip protruded and began to quiver. “If you say no, he might leave. And then what happens to all of us? Where will Mr. Malcolm live?”

  Kate tried to lean forward without disturbing Imogen. “Relax, Charlotte. No one is leaving. All of us will live here at Hartley Hall for as long as we wish. You, me, Mr. Simon, and Mr. Malcolm.”