by April Taylor
They ran across the west front of the palace and followed the river path as far as the water gate. The guards, hearing their running feet, stood ready with pikes thrust out into the darkness. A darker figure stepped forward to confront them.
“Halt. Who goes there?”
“Luke Ballard, Captain. You are needed.”
“How so?”
“I believe Mistress Paige and Alys Palmer to be in danger.”
Byram did not hesitate, for which Luke thanked God with a gratitude that reflected the depth of his fear. The captain spun round and ran towards the palace, shouting at the guards to maintain all vigilance. Sprinting along the south front to the Privy Garden Stairs, the three bounded to the upper level and through to the Queen’s apartments.
Luke’s heart sank at the sight of the yeomen guards on the door, standing dormant with set faces. He heard the hiss of Byram’s intake of breath.
“There is devilry here,” the captain said. “What is going on?”
Luke, ice-cold with apprehension, could hardly move his mouth to articulate the words.
“I do not know what it is, but unless we strive together, we are lost. Now is the time for courage my friends. Keep close behind me.”
He slid under the two crossed pikes of the guards and opened the door. As he feared, all occupants of each chamber had been similarly stricken. Byram hissed a breath at the sight. They hurried through the Watching Chamber into the Presence Chamber and stopped in their tracks.
At the other end, Gwenette Paige, her face a mask of fear and horror, quailed before the entity looming over her. A parody of a head, wagging from side to side like a curious dog, regarded her, but the expression of delight was unmistakable even the length of the chamber away. Luke paused for an instant to take in the black robes that swallowed all the surrounding light and wafted in a nonexistent breeze, before rushing forward, one hand to his nose as the stench of evil hit his nostrils. Twelve months previously, he would have hesitated, but now he did not. This bastard sunderer threatened Gwenette and Luke was the only person standing between her and not just death, but possible eternal darkness.
“Do not touch her,” he bellowed. “She is under my protection.”
A gale of laughter emanated from Nimrod’s open mouth. Luke saw long sharpened teeth as the demon, preparing to devour Gwenette, shifted his gaze. Nimrod’s white face made his red-rimmed eyes even more terrifying. The sunderer’s smile grew broad in satisfaction. Gwenette took advantage of the demon’s lack of attention and with one swift movement drew a pair of shears from her sleeve and stabbed the laughing visage.
The laughter turned immediately to screams and the hands that had been inches away from her throat now flew to its face. In an instant, Luke ran forward and dragged her away, putting himself between her and the fiend. She scrabbled to her feet.
“Oh, Luke. God be praised. You have come. What is it?”
“Byram,” Luke shouted, knowing he must not expose his friends to the evil confronting him. “Get out.”
“What would you have me do? Run like a coward?”
“To the chapel, Byram. Run. Do not tarry. Save Gwenette. Move man. Now.”
“I’m staying with you,” Rob said standing at his side. Luke heard the clatter of Byram’s boots leaving the chamber. Gwenette was safe.
Now he could concentrate on the enemy. His heart warmed at the fidelity of his kinsman and his beloved greyspring. They confronted the enemy, united in adversity.
“She is safe from you now,” Luke shouted. “You cannot hide behind her skirts. Coward. Only a lily-livered faintheart would use a woman thus. Are they the only beings you can bend to your will?”
In response, the sunderer appeared to grow and split into two entities. With a growing feeling of horror, Luke recognized Alys standing alongside Nimrod. Rob’s shriek of horror shook him from his musing.
“It is not her, Rob. It is not Alys. He merely uses her to divide our strength.”
“Of course it is her. Alys, Alys, come to me.”
“Rob, it is not Alys. Look at its face. It is red. Look at its eyes. It is not Alys.”
“Alys, sweetheart, I will help you.”
“No, no,” Luke shouted, his attention split between the boy and the demon. Nimrod did not hesitate. The entity masquerading as Alys turned and smiled at Rob. Luke watched, horrified, but unable to help as the boy ran towards her. He saw Rob reach out his arms and the spirit drift into his embrace. The next second it hurled him against the wall with a sickening thud and a crack of bones that made Luke shudder. Rob’s eyes turned upward and he slid the height of a man down to the floor, landing in an unmoving tangle of limbs.
The parody of Alys burst into peals of laughter and turned to witness its companion destroy the apothecary. Luke, left to face Nimrod with Joss, knew he had never encountered a greater peril. He could not help a shaft of bright love running through him at the sight of his greyspring standing with steadfast devotion, alert and ready, facing the horror that challenged them.
If he were to be swept into outer darkness, he would not be alone. The thought strengthened his heart and resolve still further, filling him with light and love. Reading his mind, the enemy grunted with fury and shot a red beam from his hand that, had it hit Joss, would surely have killed her. Wrath had impaired his aim. In that instant, Luke realized his only hope was to use the strength of the enemy’s anger against him. With a certainty, he knew Nimrod would already be incensed at his seeming inability to destroy this weakling elemancer. Luke must use that to good effect, build on the already festering rage confronting him and try to throw the bastard off balance. The concept of unconditional love, such as that between Luke and Joss, was alien to him.
“So, it is just you and us now,” he said, curving his mouth into a smile. “The strength of God’s love flowing through and between us against you.”
The apothecary’s lack of fear seemed to sow a seed of doubt in the mind of his adversary. Luke felt the concentration of pressure in his head lessen. He forced himself to laugh. Joss nuzzled his hand feeding renewed vigor and clarity into his mind. He stroked her head and motioned her behind him.
“If you expected me to prostrate myself before you in terror, think again. I am not afraid of you. Blood-soaked evil is all you are. An outcast, to be used and destroyed at your satanic master’s will. God has judged you to be less than a crawling serpent. I am your nemesis. A mere Dominus elemancer.”
During this speech, the Alys entity had approached its companion and they now conjoined into a red swirling angry mass that began moving towards him. Luke forced another peal of laughter.
“What, you have nothing to say to me? Why do you not just slip away into whichever midden you call home and trouble us no more?”
As he spoke something large and square flew past Luke’s head and hit the demon. At once, it emitted a howl of pain and rage, but although its advance towards the elemancer slowed, the red miasma of energy-sapping evil stretched out tendrils to the elemancer. Luke’s legs gave way and he landed on the floor winded and unable to move, muttering a prayer to God and his angels for deliverance.
He looked up to find Nimrod gathering his strength to deliver the killing blow. Yet another object hit the enemy’s face and just as Luke’s vision blurred, he heard his own voice declaiming a purging spell. The adversary’s outline blurred, wavered and vanished.
Luke lay where he had fallen, panting from the aftereffects of his ordeal. His chest hurt abominably, laboring to take breaths deep enough for life. What on earth had made him spout all that nonsense about being Nimrod’s nemesis?
Anybody looking at him now would see only a disheveled tatterdemalion, clothes torn, barely able to clamber to his feet. Anything less like nemesis would be hard to imagine. Luke found himself desperate to laugh at the thought, but he lacked the strength.
Joss had vanished. A few moments of total panic transpired before he sensed she had not perished. She would never have abandoned him unle
ss it was imperative. A groan reached his ears. He looked across at Rob as the boy, all energy spent after heaving projectiles at the entity, slid unconscious down the wall. The unnatural angle of one of his arms told Luke the bone was broken, making his final actions even more amazing. The lad’s face was ashen, too. Luke struggled to his feet, knowing Rob needed help. He was distracted by the sound of running feet. First Joss and then Byram sprinted into the room.
Joss ran to Luke, jumping up with her paws landing on his shoulders. She licked his face then dropped to the floor and trotted to Rob, nuzzling him.
“God’s breath, Luke. What was that thing?” Byram’s voice shook with the aftereffects of horror.
“Whatever it was, Byram, my friend, it is gone. Is Gwenette safe? How brave of her to attack it.”
“Indeed. The effort made her swoon halfway to the chapel. She was deadly cold. I could not decide if I should stay with her or return to help you, when your dog came and tugged at my coat. I knew Joss needed me to follow her, so I left Mistress Paige there.”
Luke looked down at his greyspring. He knew she had been with him until the demon had vanished and wondered what imperative had caused her to leave him to fetch Byram. Did she think danger still threatened? He looked from her to Byram and found that the captain regarded him with a wry smile. For the space of five heartbeats, they stared at each other, then Byram grinned and nodded.
“Be easy in your mind, friend. I believe that your actions are sanctioned by God and, as such, that is enough for me. I do not want to know more. Indeed, it is safer for all if I do not. I cannot reveal what I know nothing about. Whatever secrets you hold are safe with me. You are a good man to have on one’s side. You and your dog.”
“I forgot to hide her,” Luke said. “When I knew danger threatened, all I could think of was getting here. If I am caught in the palace with her, it will go ill for us both.”
Byram clapped him on the back.
“Worry not. What about all these people?”
He pointed back at the servants and courtiers still immobile, when a noise made them turn.
Rob was trying to climb to his feet. The boy looked towards the inner chamber. Alys was nowhere to be seen. Byram ran through the door and searched the room. He shook his head before bending to pick up the two objects Rob had flung at the demon and held them out.
“Well done, boy,” he said. “Two Bibles. I’ll wager that dented its dignity.”
But Rob ignored him. He looked past Byram.
“Where is she? Where is Alys? Is she dead?”
“Nay, she is not,” Luke said. “I give you my word. Byram, can you get Rob to the Queen Mother? I will try and wake these people up.”
He waited until the captain left the room and then grasped one of the huge candle holders. Muttering an incantation, he lit it with his fingers. It would take some little while until the wakening candle worked its magic. Making sure that the flame was steady, Luke hurried to the door.
The courtiers were beginning to stir as if they had been in a deep sleep. Luke shut the door behind him, putting an evasion spell on it to deter any person from entering the bedchamber. As he hurried from the Queen’s apartments, his main concern was to find Gwenette. Keeping to walls and shadows, he made his way to the Holy Day closets. He must make sure that Gwenette had suffered no lasting harm from Nimrod’s attentions and any treatment he needed to effect would be more powerful in the sanctified air of God’s house.
Leaving Joss at the door, Luke ran into the darkness of the Chapel Royal. It was empty. Fear rose into his throat with such urgency he could hardly breathe. The aftereffects of his encounter manifested in a sudden physical weakness. He slumped into a pew, head in hands, muttering a heartfelt prayer of gratitude that he was safe. But his relief was mixed with terror. Where was Gwenette?
Chapter Twenty-Seven
Had Nimrod managed to get to Gwenette as well as Alys? He was in no doubt that when his adversary found he had been tricked and the Queen was not where he thought she was, his anger would have been fearful.
Mayhap that was what had saved Luke. He knew perfectly well that a sunderer as powerful as this one could fell him with little effort. So why had he not done so? Another puzzle. Luke sat back in the pew, his mind swirling in confusion.
Did sunderers enjoy the struggle so much they considered it a game? Was Nimrod playing with Luke? Or was it something much more profound?
The situation was grim. Alys had disappeared. Gwenette was not where Byram had last seen her and Luke was sure her ordeal would have left her too drained to move without help.
Rob was injured, and although he could ease the boy’s pain, he was not yet able to mend a broken bone, a procedure that needed the skill of an Elemagus. Not for the first time, Luke wished with all his heart that Roland Dufay was here and not in France.
Despite the best of intentions, he had made a mess of everything. Corbin and Bertila were still in danger from the rabid Frayner. He had no idea where to begin searching for Gwenette or Alys. Byram now knew he was more than just the Outer Green apothecary, something that, for all the captain’s promises, picked at Luke, reinforcing his feeling of vulnerability.
Above all this was the knowledge that the enemy had a definite aim in mind, one that overrode the extinguishing of a nuisance elemancer. A purpose that took all his power.
Was that it? Whatever plan he had, there was no energy left over to destroy Luke? But that made no sense. Luke’s memory went back to his goading words and grew hot with embarrassment at the drivel he had shouted.
With his thoughts in tumult, Luke dropped again to his knees. There was one authority he could call on far superior to any sunderer. The intensity of his prayers asking God to aid him, show him the way to succeed in his mission, took every ounce of his conscious mind.
“Heavenly Father, I beg you to show me the way.”
His head dropped in exhaustion onto his chest, leaving him powerless to resist the descending trance even as he realized Joss was not there to protect him. This trance was different to any he had experienced. His normal entry into a trance was through a mist or fog, but not this time. All was clear and he found himself in his inner serenity chamber. Breathing a sigh of relief, he realized that he was not at risk in this place of spiritual safety but he did not shed the remnants of fear immediately.
“You are safe and need fear nothing.”
Luke spun round but he was alone.
“Who are you?”
“Trust.”
Was this some new trick of Nimrod’s, something to lure him to destruction? How had the sunderer gained access to this place?
“Trust,” the voice said again and Luke felt duty-bound to comply.
A few moments later, Luke felt his essence rise from his body. He could see his kneeling form, head in hands in the pew. As he rose higher, Joss, upright and tense at the chapel door, came into view. Then he had somehow breached the roof for he could see the palace spread out below him.
“Just as all parts of this building connect one with the other, so the events and deductions from your investigation connect also. You do not know how arches keep from falling to the ground, but you accept that they will not. In the same way, you must have belief that you will not fail.”
“I do not know how to solve this mystery,” Luke replied.
“You must fulfill your purpose, which is thwarting your enemies and preventing them from fulfilling theirs.”
Luke raised his head to find himself back in the chapel pew.
All this was too much to take in. An overwhelming lassitude kept him seated when he knew he should be on the move. Thoughts passed through his mind as unheeded as clouds sailing across a blue sky. Much later, he stirred. First, he must find Gwenette and Alys. Rolling his shoulders, Luke closed his eyes and sent out mental feelers.
It was some time before he pinpointed Gwenette. He should have known that Queen Anne would have intervened. Feeling more cheerful, he tried to find Alys, but no ma
tter which corner of the palace he directed his mind towards, she was nowhere to be found. With a heavy heart, he rose and made his way to the Queen Mother’s apartments.
“Master Ballard,” she said when he entered her chamber and bowed. “We wondered whence you had fled.”
“I did not flee. I prayed for strength and tried to find Alys and Gwenette.”
Her mouth twisted in what might have been a smile.
“Gwenette is here. Did you not think I would take care of my own?”
Luke bowed again.
“Madam, I should have. I fear my mind was on other things.”
Her expression became serious once more.
“We know you find this task onerous. We have good news for you. News which will, we hope, take that strained look from your face.”
Luke looked up at her as she beckoned. From the shadows, a tall dark-haired man dressed in mud-spattered clothes walked forward. Luke felt like throwing his cap into the air in joy.
“Master Dufay. I was never so glad to see anyone as I am to see you.”
Dufay smiled. “I am aware you have struggled of late. Her Grace has been telling me of your travails and that of your friends.”
Luke stifled an exclamation.
“Rob and Gwenette. How are they?” He swung back to look the question at Queen Anne, but it was Dufay who answered.
“Gwenette is sleeping. She suffered a great shock and will not be fit to speak of it until the morrow. Rob’s arm will ache for a while. I have mended the break, but, being so new a repair, it will be painful for a few days. Do not let him overuse it, Luke.”
“You calm my mind, sir, and I thank you. However, we have another vulnerable soul at risk. I have tried to find Alys, but cannot. Is there any way we can discover what the demon has done with her?”
“Alas, no. He has covered his tracks well and I am too fatigued to concentrate as I need to. I have ridden from Dover to report to Her Grace and found a mess that would tax anyone.”
“I think he has some fell purpose for Alys, but I cannot fathom what it is. We must get her away from him.”