“Simon!” Kate rounded on him. “What are you doing?”
“It’s worthless, Kate,” he replied with a subtle quirk of his lips. “And there’s no way to re-create it.”
A short column of dirt rose next to Gaios with the key resting on top. He reached down and took it between two fingers, lifting it close to his eyes. He considered the key for a minute, turning it around from every angle, even appearing to smell it. Then he tossed it into the air. The golem caught it and held it between his two massive hands, which transformed to red-hot magma. The hands parted and dribbles of molten gold fell between its thick fingers.
“There,” Gaios said. “It’s a shame to lose such a magnificent artifact. But if I can’t use it, I don’t want you to find a way.”
“Are we done then, Gaios?” Simon asked. “That key was what you wanted from us?”
“It was once, but now you have something else I want,” Gaios bellowed. “Where is Ferghus O’Malley?”
“I don’t know. Did you check every pub in the British Isles before coming here?”
Gaios clenched his fists. “You are making a mistake, Archer. There are only two sides: me or Ash. You are not on mine, so you must be on hers. That means you will die. You may not know me—”
“I know you!” Simon interrupted harshly. “You are Gaios, murderer of Byron Pendragon and his followers. Destroyer of the Order of the Oak.” The ground vibrated under Simon’s feet.
The elemental glared from downturned eyes. “Ash told you all about me, did she?” Gaios guffawed, throwing back his head and stretching his arms out. “The day you believe anything she tells you is the day you are lost. Did she tell you that Pendragon loved her?”
“Yes. The two of them struggled to keep you in check because you were a dangerous lunatic.”
“He never loved her.” Gaios sneered.
“Strange then that, of the three, you were the one in prison.”
“Ash lied to Pendragon to convince him to chain me. I had trusted that he was too smart for her, but I was wrong. So I sat in a tiny dark cell for centuries. Fed through a slot in an iron door. Never seeing the sky. Never feeling the pulse of the earth.”
“You poor misunderstood innocent. However did that rumor get started that you caused Vesuvius to erupt, burying Pompeii with all those pesky bystanders?”
Gaios narrowed his gaze. “That was a terrible mistake, but that had nothing to do with my imprisonment. Ash hated me because she feared Pendragon and I would ally against her.”
“Was she right?”
“My only mistake was waiting too long to move against her.”
“Then why didn’t you kill Ash when you escaped the Bastille rather than Pendragon?”
The elemental stared empty into space. The intensity drained from his eyes and he seemed a tired old man. “He was my friend and he turned his back on me. He locked me in with vile sorcerers and monsters for my only companions. Forced me to turn to that disgusting rabble for my allies. She … she lied to me and convinced me that he was going to execute me because he was afraid. I believed her. I wanted to believe her because I was so angry with him.” Gaios held his powerful hands out in front of him. “He told me I was wrong. He told me Ash was lying, but I refused to hear him. And I killed him. My friend.” He looked up with human concern. “We three were once like you, shoulder to shoulder, facing the future, fighting for what we believed in. And now because of her, we’ve come to this. One of us is dead. One of us will soon be. And one of us has been driven mad.”
Simon stepped toward Gaios and felt Kate’s hand grab his coattail. “You can end it. You can walk away.”
The elemental shook his head with disappointment. “All I have is Ash. Before I kill her, I will destroy everything she loves. And I will be sure she knows I did it.”
“Meaning London?”
“Meaning all of Britain. When I am done, this land will be no more.”
Simon watched the white-haired man and there was a simple purity to his rage. He wasn’t dreaming or bragging. He was planning and anticipating. It was terrifying, but also fascinating. Simon didn’t conjure the same disgust and fury over Gaios as he did from Ash. This powerful elemental seemed more like a storm or a volcano. It was appropriate to be awestruck, but there was no purpose to being angry. Gaios was a force that couldn’t be turned aside with reason or emotion. You could only strive to protect yourself.
“And that’s why you need the Stone of Scone?” Simon asked.
Gaios raised an eyebrow. He reached into his coat pocket, then held out his arm, and a fine stream of sand sifted out from his fist. “Here is your Stone back. Did you think I wouldn’t know it was a fake?”
Simon shrugged. “I had hoped.”
“I have the power to find the true Stone.” Gaios dusted his hands together. “But I would prefer not to expend the time and my energy.”
“I wish you very good luck in your search.”
The elemental glared again, the fury building inside him. “I dislike clowns, Archer. I thought you might have some value, but I was wrong. You are insubstantial. There is nothing in you. Even if you had your power, you would be a worthless shadow of a scribe. You are to Pendragon as a parakeet is to an eagle.”
“Let’s recap, shall we?” Simon replied evenly. “So far in this contest of mouse versus elephant we have defeated your toadies, Gretta Aldfather and Dr. White, and dismantled their network. We destroyed your Egyptian demigod. We have removed your fire elemental. And we have kept the Stone of Scone from you. I’m not usually one to boast, but we’re winning.”
The ground began to reverberate again. Dirt quivered and small stones rolled from the vibrations. The green leaves of uprooted trees shook loudly.
The voice of Gaios rumbled like the ground. “Your world is now limited to that house. If that constitutes victory to you, so be it. If you dare step against me, you will die.”
The earth lifted Gaios. He disappeared from view as the ground carried him away. The stone golem ground to a halt and seemed to lose its life spark. It froze like a statue.
Penny dropped onto the ground with a grunt and let her cannon slide to the wrecked stone terrace. She looked up, giving Malcolm a reassuring gesture.
“Simon, what about our fathers’ key?” Kate asked with alarmed exasperation. “We went through hell last year! Imogen gave up her humanity! If you were so willing to give it up, why did we suffer to save it?”
Simon turned with a sympathetic smile and threw an arm over Kate. He drew the gold key from his waistcoat pocket and dangled it from the chain. “That was one of Penny’s facsimiles. It was a worthless piece of gold.” Simon laughed out of habit, almost as if he were still feeling his old aether intoxication.
Kate looked at him in surprise, but she didn’t see the wild glare in his eyes that used to accompany the aether drain. She leaned on her sword like a walking stick. “What in the hell is so funny?”
“Gaios is afraid of us.”
Nick exhaled to release the tension. “I never thought I’d see the like when I was beating you at whist and billiards. By God! Simon Archer going toe to toe with Gaios. But is it completely necessary for you to antagonize the most powerful sorcerer on Earth?”
Simon gave Nick a collegial tap on his cheek. “Do you see how well you trained me? Gaios knows he can be defeated. Pendragon chained him for centuries, and he’s petrified of its happening again.”
Penny passed by. “Of course Pendragon did have his powers.”
Kate stood stock-still, surveying the obliterated acreage. All the carefully tended lawns and gardens were turned into a smashed field of upturned earth. The ancient forest where she and Imogen had played as children, dutifully tended and preserved by her father, had been swept away, uprooted like unneeded annuals in a garden.
“I’m sorry, Kate.” Simon kissed her on the cheek. “We’ll repair it when this is over. Somehow. We will.”
“It’s hard to repair a forest.”
He d
idn’t reply but merely stood close beside her. She put a hand to her head with a sigh and pointed at the giant stone golem that still stood amidst the destruction. “I hate to think that’s the first thing guests will see when they drive in.”
“I shouldn’t worry about that. I can’t imagine you’ll have any guests out here after all this.”
Kate laughed, wiping the unaccustomed wetness from her eyes.
Chapter 8
Simon crawled on his hands and knees through the dirt. The wooden braces of Hartley Hall’s main floor were just overhead. He worked his way past the outer walls and stone columns that served as part of the great house’s foundation. The dim space smelled musty. He followed a bright light, which burned in the palm of Nick Barker’s right hand. His old friend crawled awkwardly ahead, shuffling to keep his illuminated hand raised. Both men wore rough twill work togs, and they were caked with mud and streaming with cobwebs.
“There!” Simon called. “On your left.”
Nick swung around, banging his head on a beam. He cursed and rubbed his close-cropped hair. The support structure inches from his face wasn’t the typical stone column; it was forged steel with thick compressed springs and odd flanges. Entwined gears and pistons offered flexible support. Nick whistled with admiration.
“Christ,” he said. “Look at this thing. This is what kept the house up when Gaios came.”
Simon inched up beside Nick, studying the fantastic machinery. “There’s probably at least one in every corner. And look here!” He pointed to a flat surface on the beam where several symbols were inscribed. “Runes. My father’s inscriptions. They worked together on this too.”
“They built it to stand against Gaios. Protects the house and a bit of ground away from the walls.”
“I can appreciate that now.” Simon pulled a small notebook and pencil from his pocket and began to sketch the runes in the light of Nick’s hand.
Nick said, “I find it hard to believe your father’s inscriptions could hold back Gaios. Cavendish was reputed to be powerful, but he was no Pendragon.”
Simon detected no scorn in Nick’s words, merely a statement of truth. “I agree. It is surprising. But he was working with Sir Roland. And he was Pendragon’s protégé.” Simon worked his way around the column, copying all the runic strings. “Remarkable. These runes are a bit different from others of his. But still, his inscriptions are so elegant, like a perfect cantata, while mine are children strumming a lute with a clamshell.”
Nick shook his head. “Do you really believe all that claptrap you spew about yourself? Or do you just do it to keep people from taking you seriously?”
Simon smiled and stayed silent.
“Simon, you’re not going to let her mess about with Ash’s blood spell, are you?”
“Who? Kate? I trust her judgment on that.”
“I know Ash better than anyone here and you should burn that spell now.”
“No.” Simon sighed and started through the dirt toward a small rectangle of light. They weaved between columns until they reached the open hatchway and crawled outside into the bright sun. They were at the back of the mansion.
Nick brushed dirt from his trousers. “I’m not trying to cause trouble. I just don’t think you know how devious Ash can be.”
Simon held up his hand. “I would just as soon see Ash dead for what she did to my mother. But if there is any way she can help defeat Gaios.”
Nick shook his head as the two men went to the door of the kitchen. “It’s not worth it. No matter what Ash gave you, the cost would be too much.”
“I don’t think you understand the people I’ve gathered. Kate. Malcolm. Penny. They are extraordinary. As smart as any I’ve encountered, and good decent people. I would trust any one of them with my life.”
Nick gave a cynical grin as he poured a glass of water for Simon, then drank from the pitcher under the baleful glare of Cook and one of the kitchen maids. He wiped his mouth with his sleeve. He tore a chunk of bread from a loaf, forcing Cook to remove the bread from the table. “Listen, Simon, you know all that stuff with Ash and me, it’s in the past.”
“In the past.”
“I mean, you and I, we’re mates again, right?”
“We always were.” Simon looked at Nick with a smile. “You brought me back from the dead and you helped my mother. How could I repay you for that?”
Nick nodded sadly. “We’re on the square then?”
Simon clinked his glass against the water pitcher Nick held. “Square.”
Kate studied the vellum sheet as if their lives depended on it. Over the previous hours, she had made copious notes and occasionally consulted stacks of books at her side. Food rested on a sideboard, ignored. She muttered angrily about allowing her Old High German to become so rusty. Aethelred the wolfhound raised his head to look at his mistress, then returned to his ever-patient repose in the corner. Kate pointed at a word on the scroll. “Boargelt. Who has boargelt?” She strode to the shelves of glass jars in her laboratory. “Oh. There’s some. Good.”
Simon watched her rummage. He closed his finger in a massive German lexicon, in which he had been sketching Norse runes along the margins. Concerns raised by Nick’s warning to him earlier still swirled in his head, as well as his own natural misgivings that Ash was creeping among them. His instinct was to tear the thing away from Kate and destroy it. However, the look of intense concentration on Kate’s face, the sheer joy of discovery, was too strong for him. She was in her element here, a sort of intellectual swashbuckling that Simon found intoxicating to watch. Her eyes slipped along the arcane script, fighting to understand. Seeing her take new ancient information and put it together with disparate pieces of other knowledge caused his heart to pound in his chest. Every nerve and muscle in her seemed etched against her skin.
“Holy God, Simon.” Kate looked up. The intensity in her gaze was almost dangerous. “There is more magic in the Womb of Schattenwald than in half my library. There are principles here for applications far beyond the purpose of the spell. This passage is on the vital fluid of the blood. It claims to alter the blood into an entirely new substance that bonds with aether. I think this could certainly help you. But there’s so much more to it. It might be similar to what Dr. White accomplished using alchemy when he created his homunculi. It might serve me to help Imogen. It could make me into an alchemist on a level with Dr. White.” When Simon raised an eyebrow, Kate shook her head. “You know what I mean. White’s alchemy was at the edge of miraculous. He was altering life, altering matter. This spell discusses that very thing.”
He kept his voice even, fighting against his fears. “I can’t pretend to follow you, but I’d remind you that it’s blood magic, Kate.”
She slapped her hand against the desk in frustration. Aethelred jumped. “Repeating the same phrase isn’t an argument! If you want to convince me, do better.”
Simon regarded her, considering the validity of her words. “Recovering my power isn’t worth it if it means accompanying Ash along her path.”
“This isn’t just about your power. Granted, I think the Womb definitely touches on that problem. But it has so much more. There are foundational magical principles here, Simon. This spell transcends mere blood magic and necromancy. Those are just words. When I translate it fully, you’ll see.”
“Kate, I appreciate your enthusiasm, but you do know that it’s possible that what has been done, cannot be undone? Or should not?”
She stared at him, almost angrily. Then her gaze softened. “I’ve spent the last few months working to help Imogen. I’ve read every book and each scroll in this library, which is one of the finest occult repositories in the world. And yet, every single day I have to look at her and tell her that I haven’t found the solution. But here in this scroll, I can see breakthroughs. There are real physical advancements that I can make in my approach to Imogen’s condition. Do you understand that, Simon? Do you understand what that could mean to her?”
Before S
imon could reply in sympathy, there was a knock at the door.
Hogarth entered and pretended not to see the emotion on their faces. “Miss Kate, there is a visitor. I have put her in the West Room.”
Kate gave an exasperated sigh.
“It is Grace North.”
Simon stood quickly. “Hogarth, please find Mr. Barker and tell him to stay out of sight upstairs. We’ll attend Mrs. North presently.”
“Why do you want Nick to stay out of sight?” Kate asked. “Aside from general good taste.”
“I’ll tell you later. Just an idea I’ve been toying with.”
When they entered the dim West Room, an opulent but rarely used sitting room in the far west wing, they found Grace North pacing before the windows in the setting sun. She was staring out at the swathe of destruction across the front. Imogen stood near her, silent and still. Charlotte was across the room, spinning herself in a desk chair.
Grace turned at the sound of the door. She was pale. “What in God’s name happened here? Gaios?”
As Simon went to the sideboard to pour sherry for three, Kate said, “Yes, he disagreed with my landscaping choices.”
Charlotte chuckled, pushing herself faster. Kate grabbed the back of the chair and unwittingly nearly sent the girl flying.
“That’s impolite, dear. We have a guest.” Kate patted Charlotte’s back. “And isn’t it making you sick?”
“Almost.” Charlotte hopped off the chair and staggered about like a drunk.
Grace demanded, “Why didn’t you inform me immediately that Gaios had been here? I am your liaison.” She shivered slightly, glancing at the cold hearth.
Simon stepped around the weaving Charlotte and handed a sherry to Grace. “What would you have done about it, Mrs. North?”
Grace eyed him suspiciously and downed the wine in a single unladylike gulp. “What happened? How did you survive him?”
The Conquering Dark: Crown Page 9