by Zoë Archer
“What if we killed Edgeworth?” Thalia panted. “That might halt it.”
Bennett shook his head. They took up their original positions on the top floor of the pagoda. From there, they watched as the golem shambled toward the front gate. With enormous fists the size of cannonballs, the golem pounded on the gate, shaking the huge wooden structure as if it were pasteboard. Monks and bandits gathered on the other side of the gate, bracing themselves against it, trying to keep the gate standing. Each pound of the golem’s fists nearly threw the defenders backward.
“Only way to stop a golem is to remove the Star of David amulet on its chest,” Bennett said. “Which means someone has to get close enough to that thing to grab the amulet.”
Slam, slam, slam. Thalia watched with an awful sense of inevitability as the golem continued its relentless assault on the front gate. There was nothing she nor Bennett could do to stop it. An enormous, awful splintering rent the air. The gate flew apart into kindling, monks and bandits flying through the air, as insubstantial as dandelions. As soon as the gate was breached, the invaders flooded inside, shouting for blood. And that’s when the battle truly began.
Chapter 19
The Walls Are Breached
The entire monastery shook. Gabriel knew the gate had been breached. But by what? No trees to use for battering rams. Maybe the Heirs had their own explosive devices. Didn’t matter how the gate had fallen. He had to check and make sure Thalia was unharmed.
He ran through the central courtyard, shoving his way through the thickly clotting mercenaries as they fought with the monks and the few steppe tribesmen. Everywhere was a jumble of yellow robes and the dark clothing of the Heirs’ hired muscle. Bodies already littered the ground. Gabriel ducked as a mercenary’s fist flew in his direction. He slammed the butt of his rifle into the man’s face and sped on, not noticing or caring when the attacker crumpled to the ground.
Men screamed, and several monks and a few brigands flew up and over Gabriel’s head. He didn’t wonder long what had caused them to be thrown into the air. A clay giant steadily and ruthlessly plowed through the monastery’s defenders, knocking men aside as if they were ninepins. There wasn’t any time to goggle at the sight. Gabriel fired at the thing, but, even though he shot it straight between the eyes, the giant didn’t stop or even slow. Bloody Christ, he had known the Heirs wouldn’t play fair, but he had had no idea to what lengths they would go.
Gabriel looked and saw that the pagoda was not only still standing, but that Thalia and Bennett had now trained their rifles away from the outer wall and into the center of the monastery, where they were effectively picking away at the invading mercenaries. He allowed himself only a moment’s relief at her safety before turning and heading back toward the temple. Lan Shun and the kettle needed safeguarding, and the clay giant was clearing a path for the mercenaries.
Gabriel burst through the temple entrance and slammed it shut behind him, ignoring the brigands who had jumped to attention, guns ready. “We’re moving you someplace safer,” he said, whirling around. Lan Shun wouldn’t understand the words themselves, but he could figure out their meaning.
Instead of heeding Gabriel’s command, the head monk was bent over a small lit stove, on top of which was the kettle. He sprinkled several handfuls of dried roots into the kettle, continuously chanting. But the clay giant lumbered closer.
“No time for that now!” Gabriel shouted, but Lan Shun paid him no mind.
Gabriel started forward, then stopped. A heavy smoke poured from the kettle, even more impenetrable than the smoke that had revealed the kettle’s history. Dense white clouds swirled and snaked up to the tall roof of the temple, forming a heavy serpentine shape. The brigands shouted, and retreated against the temple walls. Lan Shun continued to chant.
Smoke congealed, took shape, and danced through the air. A roar came from its huge jaws while its claws scratched at the temple floor. White eyes burned and scales gleamed. Gabriel could scarcely believe it. A dragon. A real, live dragon, made of smoke and cloud, but real, nonetheless. The beast swam through the air and pressed its nose against the cowering brigands before turning its attention to Gabriel.
As the dragon advanced, Gabriel forced himself to stand and face it. Its head was enormous, the size of a wagon, with a mouth that could swallow three men whole. Hot breath puffed from its nose and mouth, smelling of water and herbs, enveloping Gabriel. The dragon shoved its face against Gabriel, nearly toppling him over, but the moment its nose touched the plant necklace at his throat, it moved on. Gabriel let out the breath he hadn’t known he’d been holding. If he had not been so battle-trained, he would have pissed himself for certain.
One of the monks attending Lan Shun hurried to the temple door and flung it open. The Smoke Dragon roared again before swimming through the door. Outside, the same pattern repeated itself. The dragon would check each man for the protection of the seed necklace, but if it didn’t find that protection, God help the unfortunate soul. Claws tore, the jaw snapped, and gurgling screams ripped from the throats of the mercenaries.
Over a dozen men met their deaths swiftly from the clean savagery of the dragon. Other men scattered, trying to avoid similar fates. Within moments, the clay giant and the Smoke Dragon faced each other in the cleared space. The dragon didn’t bother checking for the seed at the giant’s throat, recognizing threatening magic immediately. The dragon circled the giant once before descending. They tore into one another, crashing into walls and buildings, sending timber and stone flying. It was something out of a myth, to see such enormous monsters battle, with chaos and death all around.
Myth or no, Gabriel could not stand and marvel at it.
He turned to Altan, who had run into the temple. “I’ll lead some skirmishers. Can you guard Lan Shun and the kettle?”
“Rather watch the teapot than face that beast,” the bandit chief said.
Wasting no more time, Gabriel gathered a group of brigands and took them out into the seething courtyard in front of the temple. Scores of attackers faced off against monks, and while the holy men’s use of fist and foot was powerful, both throwing foes and spitting them with spears, the mercenaries had firepower. Chi couldn’t stop a bullet. Gabriel rammed his way through the mercenaries. His rifle did him no good in close combat, so he shouldered it and pulled his revolver and knife. Then he plunged into battle.
His movements were practiced, familiar. He knew how to fight, and even months away from his last such combat, his skills did not fail him. When a mercenary’s blade cut across his face, he didn’t feel it. He punched the sword from the man’s hand, sunk his own knife into the mercenary’s chest, then pulled out the blade and moved on. Beside him, three monks went down in a heap of gold cloth and crimson blood as a mercenary shot them at close range. Gabriel ducked a flying fist then brought his attacker down quickly. He fired and reloaded without breaking stride. More mercenaries crumpled.
A loud whooshing, followed by more men’s shouts of pain, made him look up, then shake his head in amused disbelief. Standing on the roof of the blacksmith’s shop were Graves and Hsiung Ming, putting to use another of Graves’s diabolical devices. The mechanical genius held a crimped shotgun barrel, pointing it toward the invaders below, while Hsiung Ming poured a basin of spirits into the rifle’s breach. A lit fuse attached at the opening of the barrel and ignited the liquid as it shot through the rifle, sending out jets of flame. Burning mercenaries howled as they ran in circles, trying in vain to douse the fires on their clothing. The air, rent by the roars of the Smoke Dragon, smelled of smoke, gunpowder, and charred flesh.
Gabriel slammed into the ground as a large mercenary plowed into him. They wrestled, vying for control of Gabriel’s revolver. Pinned to the ground on his back, he tried to lodge a foot in the man’s stomach and shove him off, but the bugger was too heavy and strong. Gabriel gritted his teeth as he attempted to pry the mercenary’s fingers from the gun’s handle. The man reared up, pulling on Gabriel’s arms and his m
uscles screamed in protest.
Suddenly, the mercenary stiffened as a bullet neatly pierced his chest, and he pitched forward. Gabriel managed to roll out of the way before fifteen stone of dead mercenary collapsed onto him. Getting to his feet, Gabriel followed the trajectory of the bullet and traced it to the pagoda. Thalia nodded at him briefly from a window before returning to her sniping. Pride and gratitude swelled in his chest. Jesus, he loved that woman.
But his admiration turned to horror as the pagoda began to shake and list. Thalia disappeared from the window, knocked to the floor by the quaking. The Smoke Dragon, sensing that the kettle was threatened, had abandoned its attack on the giant and now circled the temple, snatching up in its jaws any mercenaries that neared the temple. With the dragon’s focus diverted, the clay giant, directed by an unseen hand, had turned its attention to the snipers and was trying to topple the pagoda, shoving against its base. Stones from the tower’s circular walls began to fall. The giant would destroy the tower in moments.
“The hell it will,” Gabriel snarled to himself. Even if he couldn’t shoot and kill the creature, he’d draw it away from Thalia.
Gabriel started toward the tottering pagoda. And barreled right into the massive chest of Tsend. Around his neck, the Mongol wore a seed necklace, clearly taken from a monk. The Smoke Dragon tore through the unfortunate monk just behind Tsend before moving on to more mercenaries. No divine intervention would come to Gabriel’s aid. It was might against might.
Thalia crawled to the window. She could just make out Gabriel, Tsend looming over him. She tried to aim for the enormous Mongol, but the shaking of the tower made it impossible. Walls buckled around her, and beams collapsed from the ceiling. The golem did not cease its attack below. And the dragon’s interest lay in guarding the Source.
“You have to get out!” Bennett shouted at her.
“The only exit is down,” she yelled back.
He looked pointedly at the window.
“We can’t jump seven stories, Bennett!”
“It’s not jumping, it’s climbing. And we aren’t. You are.”
“I bloody well won’t without you!”
Bennett sent her a grin. “Captain Huntley has had a disastrous effect on your vocabulary, my dear. Better get out and lend him a hand.” With a wink, he disappeared down the stairs, heading straight for the golem.
Thalia made to follow him and provide what assistance she could, but a beam tumbled from the ceiling, blocking the stairs. She had no choice. Shouldering her rifle, Thalia took a breath and straddled the window. The ground looked impossibly far down. She couldn’t tell if her head spun or the pagoda was collapsing. Casting a quick look toward the courtyard, Thalia saw Gabriel grappling with Tsend, the two of them locked in desperate combat. She had to help him however possible.
She gripped the windowsill, then began to lower herself down the side of the pagoda. She found footing, then slipped as the tower shook. Her palms grew damp. Concentrate, she told herself. Slowly, painfully, Thalia worked her way down, a story at a time. She prayed no one on the ground paid her any mind. She made a perfect target, clambering down the tottering pagoda like an awkward spider.
More than halfway there. Thalia risked a glance over her shoulder, but Gabriel and Tsend had disappeared. Damn. She returned her focus to her climb, but then the pagoda leaned sharply, and she lost her grip. The thick air swirled around her as she fell.
Clawing at Tsend’s bruising fingers around his throat, Gabriel watched Thalia tumble from the sky like a fallen angel. Hot ice flooded him. Nearly two stories up. Could she survive that fall? His body shook with rage and fear. It was no use. He couldn’t pretend that she was just another soldier, and he prayed he hadn’t squandered their last moments together with his protective impulses. He had to get to her.
Tsend followed Gabriel’s gaze and laughed. “I hope there’s enough of her left for Lamb. He is not too particular, though.” He released Gabriel’s throat long enough to punch him hard in the ribs. Something cracked. “I will enjoy killing you.”
Burning with fury, Gabriel ignored the pain and wrested himself free of the enormous Mongol. He unslung his rifle and smashed it into Tsend’s grinning face. Blood shot from the Mongol’s nose and gathered in the corners of his mouth. “Now you’re as ugly as your mother,” Gabriel snarled.
Tsend wiped at his face with his sleeve, scowling. Seeing his own blood infuriated him, and he lurched forward. Gabriel leapt out of the way and kicked the small of Tsend’s back. The Mongol shouted in pain and stumbled around. Rage made Tsend clumsy as he swung at Gabriel. But Gabriel’s own wrath and fear for Thalia sharpened him, made him as precise as a blade. He had to beat the Mongol to reach Thalia.
His fists plowed into Tsend, his aim direct. A jab to the throat cut off the Mongol’s breathing. Another blow to his gut bent Tsend over, retching. Gabriel went for his revolver, but Tsend recovered just enough to kick at Gabriel’s leg, causing him to stagger. From his belt, Tsend pulled a long, wicked knife and swung at Gabriel. Gabriel blocked with his own blade. Metal against metal hissed and screeched. Gabriel shoved hard, then lost his balance as a running mercenary knocked into him. Tsend seized the momentary advantage and threw Gabriel to the earth, then ground the heel of his boot into Gabriel’s hand, forcing the hilt of his knife from his fingers. Tsend laughed again and lunged with his own blade, aiming for Gabriel’s eye.
A shot from Gabriel’s trusty revolver stopped the Mongol in his attack. For a moment, Tsend seemed puzzled, as if he couldn’t quite understand how a bullet came to be lodged in his chest. A second shot struck him in the center of his forehead. Then his eyes glazed, his expression slackened, and he fell to earth.
Gabriel did not waste a minute gloating over his kill. He leapt to his feet and headed toward Thalia, praying he wasn’t too late.
For several moments, Thalia could only lie on the ground, staring at the sky, and struggle to regain her breath. She’d tried to take the fall well, rolling as she did when thrown from a horse. But horses weren’t two stories high. Still, she needed to get up quickly and find Gabriel.
A dark shape hovered over her, blocking her view of the sky. “Already on your back for me,” Lamb drawled. “Thank you for saving me time.”
“You’re not welcome,” Thalia growled, pushing to her feet and facing her enemy.
Henry Lamb, slightly dirty and bruised, his fair hair mussed and far from a barber’s attentions, grinned at her. “I don’t mind if you put up a little fight. Makes my job so much more enjoyable.” In his elegant, refined hand, he brandished a knife that glinted in the morning light.
Bitter disgust flooded Thalia’s mouth. “I won’t let you touch me, bastard.”
“Charming. But that decision isn’t up to you.” He surged toward her.
Thalia danced away, but Lamb grabbed her hair and roughly tugged her back. Pain exploded in her eyes as her hand automatically came up, trying to loosen his hold. Lamb gripped her waist, pulling her against him. She almost gagged when she felt his erection pressing into her from behind. He held the knife to her throat while his other hand gripped her breast. As she struggled, the edge of the knife cut into the tender skin. Wetness trickled down her neck.
“This really is marvelous, Thalia,” Lamb panted in her ear. “Exactly what I’d hoped for. I can take my pleasure with you while that dragon exhausts its magic protecting the Source.”
Thalia kicked out behind her, trying to land a blow to his groin. He anticipated this, however, and turned just enough so that her heel only caught on his hip. Then she yelped as the knife cut deeper. She stilled, not wanting to slit her own throat.
“Yes,” Lamb hissed. “A fight is good, but I don’t want to kill you, Thalia. Not for a while. I have such plans for you.”
She made herself go slack against Lamb. He ground into her. The hand on her breast moved, and she felt him reaching for the buttons on his trousers. With his attention diverted, the blade of the knife moved slightly away from h
er neck.
Thalia reached up and grabbed the blade with her bare hand. She bit down her scream as the knife cut deeply into her palm, and pushed the weapon away. Lamb cursed in his genteel accent, calling her a bitch and a whore, as Thalia twisted in his grasp. As they both grappled for the knife, she thought of Tony Morris, murdered and abandoned, of the Heirs’ greed for empire and dominance, of the threats she and Gabriel had faced many times over. Gabriel, whom she loved ferociously, powerfully. He fought for her. He might die for her. But not if Thalia could do anything about it.
Fueled by anger and love, Thalia pushed harder as she fought with Lamb. The knife slipped in his fingers, and she muscled it around so the blade pointed toward him. Her mind flashed to the wrestlers at the nadaam, their technique. Hooking her feet around one of Lamb’s ankles, Thalia threw him to the ground. He fell, and the knife he held caught him between the ribs. Thalia stumbled backward, staring at the hilt as it pointed up from Lamb’s chest, scarlet staining his expensive waistcoat.
He lay there, pinned and choking, while his hands clawed at the hilt. Blood seeped from his aristocratic mouth. He tried to speak, gasping out unintelligible curses, but then a paroxysm hit him. He gurgled, then fell still, eyes open and staring at the blue Gobi sky. Thalia watched this, her gaze dispassionate, as her own wounds bled into the dust.
A mercenary saw Lamb’s body and shouted. “He’s dead! The English chief is dead!” Other nearby mercenaries turned at this. They met each other’s eyes. No leader meant no payment. There wasn’t a reason to risk their lives any further. Like bleating, terrified sheep, the men pivoted and ran. It wasn’t long before the monastery was emptying out as mercenaries fled in panic.
“Thalia!” She turned at Gabriel’s voice, and there he was, living and whole, racing toward her. Stunned, Thalia let his strong arms enfold her, and she realized with dim shock that Lamb was dead, and she had killed him. Even more surprising, she was glad.