Ruins (44 page)

“You think?”

She grabbed his hand and he staggered after her through the collapsing museum. How long did they have before the faceless man caught up with them? Nicholas swatted the thought away, hoped the spear would keep the creature impaled for long enough for them to escape the building. If they could escape it.

They reached the second stairwell and Nicholas cried out with relief. They took the stairs and found they were back in the lobby. Not wasting a moment, they both rushed through to the window they had come in by.

Nale’s bearded face appeared. He nodded in greeting, reaching inside to draw Dawn out. Nicholas clambered after, tripping in his hurry. Strong arms caught him and set him down on the pavement.

“Cheers,” he said. A wet nose nuzzled his hand and he found Zeus beside him, panting and blood-speckled, just like his owner.

The market square was eerily quiet. Bodies lay everywhere. Unconscious. Dead. Unmoving. It seemed that he, Dawn and Nale were the only living people left in town. Nicholas hoped that wasn’t true.

“The others must be at the school,” Nicholas said. “That’s where Malika will be. She’s opening the trikraft. But the Abbey ruins...” He stopped still. His head thumped, but it wasn’t because of the suffocating air. He peered around, knowing exactly what the headache meant.

A raven flapped over their heads. It flew down the Butter Market and then, in its place, there stood a dark figure in a silver mask.

Esus raised a gloved hand and pointed down Abbeygate Street towards the Abbey Gardens. That confirmed it.

“Come on,” Nicholas said.

Zeus cantered ahead of them. The raven wheeled above them once more. It caww-ed in what Nicholas thought was an encouraging manner. Was Esus going to help them? He’d killed Diltraa. Could Esus tackle Laurent, too?

“You feeling okay?” he asked Dawn. She wiped the blood on her face with the sleeve of her hoody and nodded. “You don’t have to–”

“I do,” she said and Nicholas knew the topic was closed. Dawn had as much of a reason to watch Laurent burn as any of them; perhaps more. Laurent robbed her of her parents. She deserved to be there when they took him down.

If they took him down.

When
, Nicholas determined. There was no room for doubt.

Abbeygate Street was deserted. The buildings smouldered, fire-ravaged and spent. They hurried between them, down the cobbled street, wary that anybody could attack at any time. A grave silence had fallen over the town, though. There wasn’t a living soul anywhere. The sky was black and burnt.

Nicholas’s broken arm throbbed worse than ever. He pulled the sling from his pocket and slung it round his neck, fitting his arm into it with a sigh. The pressure lessened somewhat.

They emerged onto Angel Hill. The Abbey gate stood open like a mouth and Harvesters skulked in front of it, guarding the ceremony that Laurent must be performing inside.

Nicholas looked up at Nale, whose huge hands were already balling into fists.

“What do you think?” he asked.

“Be quick,” Nale growled. He was going to clear the way for them again.

“Listen,” Nicholas began. He felt like he should thank Nale for his help. It was impossible to tell what the grizzly man was thinking, and he spoke so little. But Nale needed to know that Nicholas appreciated what he’d done for them. Without Nale, he and Dawn would be dead by now – if not at the hands of the Tortor, then definitely by the citizens whom the creature had transformed into mindless monsters. “Thanks for... you know...”

Nale’s gaze fell on him and it wasn’t heavy as Nicholas had expected, but soft. Gentle. Nicholas wished he knew more about Nale. Malika had tried to turn him. Because he was strong? Or was there another reason? If they survived this, Nicholas swore he’d find out.

“Brave boy,” the man rumbled. He placed a hand on Nicholas’s shoulder, the other on Dawn’s. “Girl.” After a moment, he blinked and strode off, stomping toward the Abbey gate, Zeus clipping along at his heel.

Nicholas and Dawn ducked behind a water fountain on the hill and watched.

The Harvesters spotted Nale within seconds. They whooped and crowed, whirling blades that flashed with the same steely light that burned in their eyes. Nicholas almost felt sorry for them. Nale would cut them down like twigs.

Zeus was a grey blur and the Harvesters’ whoops dissolved into angry howls. A wiry Harvester spun a mace above his head and Nale grabbed his enemy’s head in one hand, slamming him to the pavement. Another Harvester replaced him, this one a thick-set woman with a machete. She licked her teeth and swung the blade. Nale caught her fist and the Harvester’s grin sagged. He twisted the machete into the Harvester’s gut and she collapsed with a cry.

One by one, Nale grappled with the figures at the entrance to the Abbey and each fell, crushed and broken.

“Now,” Nicholas hissed. More Harvesters would replace those who had fallen. He and Dawn had minutes, if that, to get inside before the ranks were reinforced.

They dashed out from their hiding place and hurried toward the Abbey gate.

Something whizzed through the air. Nicholas felt it whisper past his ear, missing him by millimetres. An arrow embedded itself in the pavement beside him. He looked up. A figure was atop the Abbey gate.

“Run!” Dawn yelled, grabbing his hand.

They raced for the gate, faces upturned to watch as more arrows sailed down. They dodged them, one grazing Nicholas’s leg as it descended. A horn sounded.

“Laurent knows we’re here,” Nicholas puffed as they tumbled into the shelter of the gate. “Hurry,” he urged, pulling Dawn out the other side and into the park. Yet more arrows slashed down to meet them and only the trees prevented them from hitting their targets.

“Low,” Nicholas said. “Keep low.”

He had a strange feeling the Harvesters weren’t even trying. Malika said Laurent wanted him alive. Was that still the case? Did Laurent really expect Nicholas to stand by his side as the Dark Prophets rose from the bowels of hell?

They went from tree to tree. A shriek echoed through the park. The aledites were here, too. Nicholas scanned the sky, but the trees were in the way and the heavens were too dark. The aledites were invisible against the tortured storm clouds.

The ground shuddered beneath them and Nicholas steadied himself against a tree.

“He’s already started,” he whispered.

“We have to get closer,” Dawn said.

“You keep an eye out that side, I’ll cover this side. If you see anything...”

“Scream like a girl?”

Nicholas grinned despite himself and they edged through the gardens, keeping to the shadows. He noticed a raven darting between the trees, swooping silently.

They came to a steep hill, which overlooked the ruins. Carefully, they clambered up, using the roots of an old oak tree like the rungs in a ladder. Above them, the raven settled in the oak’s branches, hidden amongst the leaves.

With Dawn at his side, Nicholas lay flat and peered over the crest of the hill.

The ruins were bathed in hellfire. Shallow iron bowls contained flickering flames and there were more Harvesters than Nicholas could count. They perched in every rocky crevice, some sitting high up in the tallest of the ruins, others lounging over the broken flint-stone walls.

A figure moved in a part of the ruins that still had four low walls so that it resembled a room. Laurent wore a tapering, blood-red robe, like something a priest might wear. His skin was waxy in the firelight and he clasped something in his long, thin fingers. Nicholas couldn’t see what it was.

An altar rested behind him.

Laurent murmured something under his breath and took a knife from the altar. He sliced open his palm. Then he held aloft the thing in his hands. Nicholas squinted. It was a black box covered in a shroud.

“The final totem!” Laurent declared, brandishing it above his head. The Harvesters whistled and shrieked, clashing their blades together.

Reverently, Laurent placed the box on the altar. He flipped the lid.

A hush rushed through the park. Fear inexplicably clutched at Nicholas’s heart and he grabbed the tree, if only to have something to hold on to.

Laurent reached into the box and drew out a black object. He kissed it and raised it for all to see. An ugly carving of a three-headed beast. Was it a likeness of one of the Prophets’ emissaries? Or perhaps a rendering of the Prophets themselves?

The Harvesters watched silently.

Laurent held his hand over the totem. Blood dripped onto it and a red light burst up into the sky, parting the gathered storm clouds. A crimson, star-like speck glowed. The second part of the trikraft was in place. In the distance, Nicholas saw the red light pulsing high above the museum.

“Sam,” he muttered under his breath. “I hope you’ve stopped the third one...”

He heard Dawn’s breath catch in her throat and followed her line of vision.

Laurent had glanced up, right at the spot where they were crouched. He must have known they were there the whole time. He bared his teeth in a triumphant grin and Nicholas knew they were out of time.

*

The ringing in Sam’s ears threatened to go on forever. Somewhere in the part of his brain that hadn’t been pummelled by the explosion, he attempted to count how many wrecked buildings he’d been in over the past week. Snelling’s home, Solomon’s boathouse... This time it was the school gymnasium.

He groaned and heaved himself up, finding that he was caked in debris.

Still standing
, he thought.
The doc’s pills must be working
.

“Isabel?” he murmured, coughing. “Aileen? Merlyn?”

A rustle came from nearby and a cat’s head emerged from the rubble. Isabel spluttered and shook herself, a halo of dust scattering into the air.

“Damn and blast,” she muttered. “Old man, are you injured?”

Sam checked himself over. “No,” he sighed, scanning his surroundings. The ceiling had caved in and he could see the turgid night sky, veins of yellow lightning crackling through the clouds.

Liberty heaved herself up a few feet away, then pulled Merlyn free.

Where were Aileen and Rae?

Some of the debris shifted nearby and Sam turned in that direction, hope swelling in his chest.

Malika extricated herself from the wreckage and Sam knew he would have to move fast to subdue her. Even as he reached into his bag, though, Malika let out a high laugh and crouched down. What was she doing?

Other shapes drew themselves out of the wreckage. Harvesters. All of them bloodied and dust-speckled. Only five now. Others were still buried under the collapsed ceiling. Sam hoped they’d stay there.

The Harvesters surrounded Malika in a protective ring.

The red-haired woman drew something from the folds of her dress. It flashed briefly. A blade. She crouched down and then stood, the blade now wet with blood. Whose blood?

Rae
? Sam thought with a lurch. He began to wade through the rubble, but then Malika said something and flicked the blade, splattering blood to the ground. A red light blasted up through the dashed ceiling, burning brightly in the sky. The clouds smouldered red and the ground shifted under his feet.

Sam staggered, regaining his balance.

Hot, crimson light pulsed in the clouds and the atmosphere grew even more troubled.

“What have you done?” he yelled.

Malika’s cat-like eyes slid in his direction but she held her tongue. Her pale countenance read triumph.

“It’s complete,” Liberty said softly.

“The trikraft,” Isabel uttered. “Hell-witch, you’ve doomed us all!”

Malika’s reply was a coarse laugh and Sam quivered.

“Soon you’ll all be ash,” she spat. “Enjoy these final moments. Pray to your gods. They won’t hear you. Tonight, the Dark Prophets rise and you’ll all be condemned to the festering pits of their former prison.”

She stopped, looked at Liberty. The Sensitive stood still, peering at the red witch in a way that Sam recognised. She was trying to read Malika again. Liberty blinked and breathed deeply. She must be searching for a way to stop her.

“You want to see inside my head?” Malika asked. “I’m not sure you’ll like what you find.”

Their eyes locked and Liberty’s jaw clenched. Her body went rigid. Sam’s gaze darted between them.

“Isabel,” he murmured. “Do something.”

“I cannot,” the cat replied.

The two women were locked in a wordless, motionless battle. Sam thought he saw the air crackle between them, but he couldn’t be sure. His heart lurched as a single line of blood trickled from Liberty’s nose and she began to shake. Her eyes became bloodshot and blood oozed from her ears.

“Liberty,” Sam gasped.

Liberty’s expression crumpled with pain.

“S-Sam...”

Malika smiled, her eyes not leaving the Sensitive. She raised a hand and splayed her fingers, peering between them.