The Conquering Dark: Crown

by Clay Griffith Susan Griffith

  Kate gasped in wonder at the intricate handiwork. “Pendragon?”

  “Yes,” said Simon. “Gorgeous stuff. Incredibly powerful.”

  “Was this Gaios’s cell?”

  “No.” Simon pointed to a string of runes on the ceiling. “If I’m reading this properly, this cell was prepared for our friend, Nephthys, the demon queen.”

  “Our late friend, Nephthys,” Malcolm commented from the door.

  “Just so.” Simon smeared the chalk circle and the runes vanished. He then went to the other cells in the long hallway and repeated the ritual in each one. They glowed with hints of sorcerers and monsters they had encountered such as Gretta Aldfather and Ferghus O’Malley until all of the so-called Bastille Bastards were accounted for but one.

  In the last open cell, Simon set about chalking. This chamber was considerably larger, but no less dark. There were remnants of furniture constructed of excellent wood with traces of quality fabrics. Bits of porcelain and glass hinted of fine dishes and toiletries. When Pendragon’s inscriptions flared to life, Simon exhaled in triumph. “This is it. Gaios was in this cell.” He began to copy the complex runes into his notebook.

  Kate said, “It’s certainly nicer accommodations than the others.”

  “They were friends,” Simon replied. “It says a great deal about Pendragon.”

  Nick chuckled to himself as he strolled around the room, gazing at the runes. Then he pointed at the wall. “Have a look here.”

  Simon continued writing. “I saw it. Very similar to the phrases on the foundations of Hartley Hall. Obviously my father borrowed from Pendragon.” He glanced at Kate. “Which gives me hope I can do the same thing and fashion magic to dampen Gaios’s power.”

  Malcolm leaned against the doorjamb. “So you scribes can write spells to counter any other form of magic?”

  “It’s possible,” Simon said. “But difficult.”

  “Then why don’t the other magicians just kill all the scribes?”

  Simon smiled. “They’ve tried. I am the last one.” He glanced at Nick. “Which is why Ash wanted to cultivate me, I suppose.”

  “Or kill you?” Malcolm eyed Nick.

  Nick froze, realizing everyone was staring at him. He turned with an annoyed glare. “If she’d wanted him dead, she wouldn’t have had me waste my time with him. She would’ve told me to go to his home, smile in his face, and put a knife in his heart.”

  “Charming.” Simon watched his friend in the weird light of the runes. Nick seemed pained more than insulted. Simon stood and crossed to the door, putting a hand on Nick’s arm. “I’ve gotten all I can here. I do want to take a look in that last cell.”

  He went to the iron door at the end of the hall. He shined a lantern through the barred window. The beams danced around the room. It was clean, without the detritus of occupation or the wear of use, except for a far corner where there was a low mound of something, a pile of objects smooth and irregular. Kate stood beside him, staring at the lump as well.

  Then it moved.

  A piece of the pile shifted with a dry clattering sound. Two dark holes turned toward the door. A skull. Another section of the mound moved and a recognizable skeletal hand slid alongside the jaw. And then another hand on the other side. With long arms, the hands lifted the skull from the pile and adjusted it atop a curved bumpy shaft—a spine. The hands pressed against the floor and lifted the rib cage. The head, now properly atop the neck, turned side to side to survey the area. One leg unfolded while the skeleton reached over and grabbed another leg, clicking it into its hip socket. The newly assembled skeleton clambered onto its knees with no more difficulty than someone rising groggily from bed. It reached behind itself to seize a long shaft of some sort. It used the pole like a staff and pushed itself up onto its bony feet with a creaking noise. Something bright reflected the lanternlight. It was a long curved blade on the skeleton’s staff. The macabre figure leaned on a scythe and stared at the door.

  Kate looked at Simon in surprise, and asked, “Who is that? An unknown prisoner?”

  “I don’t think so. The door is unlocked. He seems content to be in there. He’s guarding the cell.”

  “From whom?”

  “From anyone most likely.” Simon studied the motionless skeleton. “We need to get inside.”

  Nick peered into the room. “Simon, mind, that isn’t some random revenant. It’s a lich. It has power. We have trouble enough without opening doors to let more of it out.”

  “Yes we do.” Simon found the patient skeleton fascinating.

  “Are you drunk from aether?” Nick queried.

  Simon considered the possibility. He did feel a slight numbing of his fears and doubts. The magic intoxication could affect his judgment at times, but not now. All the prisoners of the Bastille were accounted for. All the prisoners they knew about, in any case. This cell made one too many. They could not leave without knowing who might have previously occupied this room.

  Simon backed away from the door. “Kate, hit our friend there with treacle to hold him in place. Penny, can you try to knock him to pieces with your gun?”

  Kate plunged a hand into the gathered velveteen at her hips, finding hidden pockets, and came out with a vial. She aimed the crossbow through the bars and fired. The creature seemed to move in slow motion as it brought the scythe around. Its place in the corner should have cramped its ability to swing the long-handled tool, but the scythe passed through the walls and floor as if they weren’t there. The skeleton could have been swinging out in the middle of an open field. The lich swept the scythe up, pausing a split second to catch the vial on the flat of the blade, and followed through to toss the glass hard. The treacle smashed worthless on the far wall.

  Before anyone could speak, the lich charged the door. Every motion of the skeleton was clear, creating an illusion of slowness, but Simon knew better. It was on them in an instant. Simon grabbed Kate and Penny and pulled them back. A blade penetrated the metal door like a large hooked claw and flowed smoothly down to the floor where it drew back inside the cell. A skeletal foot appeared and the lich stepped through the iron door as if it weren’t there.

  “Back!” Simon shouted and brought his stick sword to glittering life. Despite the wicked blue sheen, it seemed inadequate compared to the great blade of the lich.

  Penny brought up her pistol and fired. The hallway shuddered. Dust fell all around them. The lich was shoved back. Its head tilted and it swung the scythe to its side. The blade cut through the wall. The skeleton followed smoothly behind the stroke and disappeared from sight.

  Nick was standing at the open door to Gaios’s cell and let loose a ball of flame into the room. “It’s in here!”

  Simon reached the doorway in time to see the lich standing in a field of flame. It plunged the sickle into the floor and dropped from view. He turned back to the hall. “It’s below us now.”

  “How could it be below—” Penny began when the scythe blade appeared at her feet like a shark fin slicing through the ocean. A skeletal hand reached up and seized her ankle. Penny’s right foot was pulled into the floor and she started screaming in pain.

  Kate and Simon grabbed her and pulled, but she was held fast as if her leg had been set into the masonry. Penny thrashed in agony, clutching at her trapped calf.

  Simon caught a glimpse of steel in the wall behind Malcolm. He was about to call out, but the Scotsman was already turning and dropping into a crouch as bony fingers stretched out for him. The powerful Lancaster pistol roared, slamming four balls into the wall where the hand now disappeared. Malcolm drew his second pistol and bounded for the nearest doorway. Just as he reached it, he fell back and the scythe sliced past his head. The lich appeared in the doorway, driving the sickle down just between Malcolm’s legs.

  Nick let loose another wash of fire with one hand, nearly catching Malcolm in the blast. The lich now regarded Nick and spun gracefully, letting the shaft of its weapon slide through its hand, giving it nearly eight fe
et of range. The blade, again defying all logic, passed through the solid walls of the hallway and hissed in an arc level with Nick’s throat.

  Malcolm kicked up into the shaft of the scythe, knocking it just off line so that Nick’s slow reaction still let the older man escape by inches. Malcolm screamed as if his leg had been shattered. The lich continued its motion, drawing the long wooden shaft closer, spinning it over its head to plunge the blade toward the writhing man on the floor.

  The clang of metal on metal combined with a shower of blue sparks. Simon grunted with effort as his blade caught the scythe and turned it from Malcolm’s unprotected chest. He recovered from his lunge, locking the blades tight, and leapt over Malcolm. He could see a bluish iciness seeping up the Scotsman’s leg. Simon spun about to riposte, but the lich blocked it with the butt of the handle.

  “Nick! Attend Malcolm!” Simon backed up the hall. The lich’s scythe passed effortlessly through the walls of the corridor as the creature followed Simon with its empty eyes focused on the glowing sword.

  Simon kept tapping the scythe to keep the feel of his opponent. The magic of his blade prevented it from being parted by the lich’s preternatural weapon. Simon shifted his point only slightly to keep it ready to strike if he got the chance. He shuffled back, step by step, letting his fencing training take over. Unlike his opponent, Simon was constrained by the confines of the hallway.

  The skeleton’s skill with the scythe was impressive, even beautiful. It came on like a machine, spinning in a danse macabre. The lich jabbed, hoping to slip the curved blade past to hook Simon. He ducked and blocked, and quickly riposted with a short stroke that separated a rib from the breastbone. Simon came up on his toes, drew his sword back along his chest, and struck again for the skull. The lich ducked away, off balance. It swung wide, slicing through a wall and instantly vaulting out of the corridor.

  Simon turned and ran, rounding the corner. Just ahead, he saw the dangling rope up to the elephant above. He heard a faint humming overhead and immediately dropped to the floor. The scythe blade plunged from the stone ceiling and whooshed past. The lich dropped before him.

  Simon spun quickly and parried a blow that tore his coat. The lich struck again, pressing its advantage. Simon held it off for now, but the skeleton kept up the attack. It would never tire. Simon would eventually lose his aether and his stamina would drop just like his sword arm.

  Kate rounded the corner behind the lich. The skeleton started to turn to her, but Simon made quick strikes to its chest. Before he could carry through to the neck, the lich whirled back to face him, blocking the sword. Simon was pushed off balance. He tried to recover, but his opponent pressed forward.

  Kate stopped just behind the lich, and stuck her fist inside its rib cage. She grimaced and squeezed. There was a crunch of broken glass. Kate pulled her hand out rapidly as an orange mist swirled inside the skeleton. The fog began to grow and harden. The lich paused when the expanding amber pressed against the inside of its ribs and spine. The bones started to bend and ribs snapped. The breastbone shattered. The spine stretched, fighting to hold itself together for a second before flying to pieces like a broken charm bracelet. The lich’s skull clattered off the amber and dropped to the floor.

  “That was lovely.” Simon tapped the amber with his sword. “Very elegant.”

  “Thank you. I’m glad it worked because it was the last of my amber.” She knelt and hesitantly touched the handle of the scythe. Nothing happened, so she grasped it. When she picked it up, the blade clanged off the wall. “I’ll add this to our collection. Considering how many artifacts we’ve lost recently.”

  Simon whispered a bit of strength into his body and stomped his foot on the lich’s skull, crushing it to bits. He went along with Kate back to the cells. Nick was coming to meet them. They turned the corner to see Malcolm kneeling beside Penny, whose foot was still embedded in the floor. She was pale and sweating. Malcolm whispered calmly to her.

  Simon inspected the spot where her ankle disappeared into the floor. It appeared to be merely trapped rather than fused. Her leg was red and bloody, and it was possible bones were broken. He said, “Penny, I’m going to free you, but it may hurt.”

  The engineer gave him a satirical glare. “Oh may it?”

  Simon smiled at her spirit. He placed two fingers on the floor near her leg. A tattoo flared and he sent powerful pulses into the stone. Penny grimaced and bit her lip. Simon pressed his fingers down harder, pushing vibrations deep into the floor. The young woman paled further, but she watched even so. The stone beneath Simon’s fingers showed faint hairline cracks. Now he spoke a different word, strength filled him, and he drove his hand deep into the floor. He felt the rough stone shredding his skin, but he smashed even harder. The floor cracked and he wrenched a chunk of stone from around her ankle.

  Malcolm took her calf and carefully worked her foot free from the clutching rock. Penny was breathing heavily with relief as Malcolm ran his hand over her ankle, like a groom checking the fetlock of a horse, and he said, “Seems sound enough.”

  “Thank God you won’t have to put me down,” Penny hissed through the pain.

  Simon pointed at Malcolm’s leg, which had been blue, and the Scotsman merely nodded that he was fine. Simon rose and pulled open the iron door of the lich’s cell. “All right then. Let’s have a look.”

  With a few strokes Simon chalked a circle on the floor of the cell. He spoke the spell alive and runes appeared all around him. Simon gasped against his will.

  “Ash,” he said. “This cell was for Ash.”

  Nick gave him a dubious look. “Pendragon never imprisoned Ash.”

  “I know.” Simon slapped the floor. “He was obviously prepared to do it.”

  “And she found out,” Kate added.

  Simon grinned coldly. “That must be why she arranged for Gaios to escape. She had Pendragon killed, and she destroyed the Order of the Oak. She killed my father and broke yours, Malcolm, and hounded yours, Kate. All to save herself from the man she loved.”

  “All this carnage over unrequited love?” Penny raised her eyebrows in wonder. “Ash is a cold one.”

  “You have no idea,” Nick muttered.

  Chapter 14

  Simon crouched in the center of the runes designed to confine Gaios. They surrounded him, inscrutable and fascinating and beautiful. Pendragon was both a sorcerer and a craftsman. His artistry made Simon envious; the complexity of the phrasing was amazing. Pendragon used runes and marks from a variety of magical cultures, Celtic, Norse, Egyptian, even Persian, and he combined them in unexpected ways. It wasn’t just the runes themselves but also their arrangement in space that gave them power. The cell was built to specifications that created sacred and powerful geometries. Simon felt an excited surge with every minute as he began to grasp the intricate premise and the complex execution of the inscription around him.

  Simon heard a knock. His fists clenched in frustration. “I’m not to be disturbed.”

  “It’s important,” came Kate’s voice.

  Simon went to the door of his bedroom. Kate glanced inside where Simon had posted each rune on a sheet of paper tacked to the walls, floors, and ceiling.

  “How import—” Simon began but stopped speaking when Kate held up the gold key. It was vibrating of its own accord. “That is unusual.”

  “It began a few minutes ago.” Kate nodded to Penny, who stood behind her in work togs.

  “I’ve never seen that before,” Penny said.

  Simon took the quivering key. It wasn’t hot. It wasn’t glowing. “Let’s open it up and have a look.”

  They entered Sir Roland’s private study. The rune on the wall that allowed the key to open a portal here was glowing slightly.

  Simon held the key out and spoke the magic word. “Marthsyl.” The rift opened, revealing the world map floating in the air, all as usual.

  Penny stepped forward and pointed at one of the dots on the globe that was blinking. “That spot in Indi
a is new. Well, maybe not completely new. But it has just returned to the map in any case.”

  Simon reached out a finger to touch the dot, which was somewhere in northern India or Nepal.

  A strange voice wafted into the room. “Hello? Is someone there?” Simon froze. Both Kate and Penny looked around but saw no one. They waited quietly.

  “Is someone there?” The voice sounded as if it was coming through a long tunnel. It was weak and echoed. “Sir Roland, is that you?”

  Kate’s breath caught.

  “Sir Roland?” came the faint words again. “The Stone. He’s after the Stone, and he’s close. I don’t know how. You told me to contact you through the rune. Answer me, please.”

  Kate responded in a quavering voice, “Who is this?”

  There was silence.

  “Who is this?” she repeated. “Sir Roland isn’t here. This is his daughter Katherine. Kate. Who are you?”

  A long pause followed, and then, “What is your dog’s name?”

  Kate stiffened in confusion. “My dog?”

  “What is your dog’s name? Hurry, there isn’t much power left.”

  “Aethelred.”

  They heard a soft exhalation of relief. “Where is your father, Miss Katherine? He isn’t dead, is he? Gaios or Ash haven’t caught up to him, have they?”

  “No.” Kate was firm. “He is gone. I have his key now. Who are you?”

  “My name is Ishwar. I am your father’s friend.”

  “Ishwar.” She looked surprised. “Tell me about the Stone.”

  “The Stone of Scone. There is a man looking for it. No, not a man. A monster. He is scouring the temple precinct. Somehow he knows the Stone is here. He is killing the priests of the temple, but they don’t know where it is.” A whistling sound began to overwhelm the voice, pushing it into the background in crackling static. “We must move it.”