Rise of the Arcane Fire (The Secret Order) (25 page)

I screamed, and David caught me, pulling me toward the eastern wall.

We fell together against the stone as the headmaster pulled the door open just enough for the others to escape.

I looked back at the giant, and to my horror the burning oil remained lit as the automaton rose and looked in confusion at the fire burning on its hands and curling over its shoulders.

“Perfect,” David said as he hauled us back toward the door. “The blasted thing is on fire.”

We ran for the door as the last of the boys slipped through.

“Hurry!” David shoved me through the door. The giant roared again. Then I heard the heavy fall of his feet as he thundered straight for the door. With David right behind me, we ran past the huge casks of wine and ale.

The large arm of the mechanism that lifted the barrels loomed over us. It was attached to the ceiling, but if it swung just right across the center aisle—

I skidded to a halt. “I have an idea.” I took in the connections of levers and gears. If my timing was right, it could work. We just needed to put tension on the wheel used to position the arm, then release the stabilizing levers suddenly.

David stumbled. “Are you mad?”

“If we don’t stop the automaton, it will burn the archives and bring the entire monastery down on top of it,” I shouted. As if to prove my point, the giant crashed through the heavy wooden door, splintering it as if it were nothing more than kindling twigs. “Take that over there!” I pointed to the control lever to our left.

The giant swung its fist into one of the large casks. The wood shattered, and a flood of deep red wine broke in a wave over the automaton. I covered my head with my arm as sharp pieces of the barrel rained down on me.

“Look out!” I shouted. The giant fixed its burning gaze on David, then swung its fist again as David ducked just beneath it. A shower of ale exploded from the broken cask, and David slipped as he reached the control lever for the claw that grabbed the casks.

He used it to haul himself up to standing.

I frantically turned the large wheel to my right, putting tension in the arm. “When I give the command, pull your lever!”

The giant ripped its hand from the remains of the broken ale cask and turned back toward us.

“Now!”

I pulled as hard as I could against my control lever, but it was stuck.

“Meg!” David wrenched his lever until the lock on the arm came free.

I threw all my weight against my lever, battering my hip. The lever shifted and the lock on the arm released.

The heavy lifting arm swung across the aisle, crashing directly into the giant’s face.

The automaton lost its balance and fell with a splash into the shallow lake that looked like foaming blood.

I didn’t have time to lose.

Lifting my skirts, I ran through the slogging mess and climbed onto the chest of the giant.

The automaton reached a hand up and brought it toward my head, the fingers outstretched to grab and crush.

I grasped the lever on his chest and switched it.

The giant’s fingertips brushed my ear as the spring wound down with a high-pitched
whirr
.

And the giant closed its eyes.

I COLLAPSED FORWARD ONTO THE
chest of the giant, just trying to catch my breath. My clothing felt heavy, soaked and pungent with the smell of malty ale and red wine. I closed my eyes and gave my thanks to heaven that I hadn’t been crushed.

Now that the danger was over, I didn’t think I could lift my body again. All the strength had drained out of it.

“Meg.” David climbed up beside me. “Meg, are you injured?”

He rolled me over by the shoulders and helped slide me down to the floor. The cold wine seeped farther into my heavy petticoats. David reached out and brushed my sticky hair off my face. “Speak to me.”

“I’m unharmed,” I answered. His fingertips felt too gentle as they skimmed over my ear. I pulled away, struggling to my feet in spite of my ruined skirts. Blast it all, I wished I could be rid of them. They were nothing but a nuisance. David lent me an arm even as a crush of people poured out of the mouth of the stairwell and into the flooded room.

I watched my classmates look around with expressions of shock, horror, and the occasional elation that comes when boys discover a really large mess. As I watched them I was certain of one thing. Not a single one of us was capable of creating this disaster. The saboteur was no student. He was a master.

Peter approached looking relieved. “That was bloody brilliant.”

“Watch your language,” David warned. “That’s no way to speak in front of a lady.”

“It was a
bloody
nightmare is what it was,” I grumbled. David could keep his strict language mores to himself. Michael stopped in his tracks and guffawed; Manoj smiled.

Peter offered me his handkerchief, but David pushed his own in front of it. Unfortunately, David’s was dripping wine. I took Peter’s and gratefully dried my face.

“What caused this?” Manoj asked as he inspected the fallen Goliath. The machine appeared to be dead. The wine helped the effect.

“Someone instructed it to take more than three steps.” I inspected a rip in the sleeve of my dress. Any reasonable person would call the dress a loss, but I didn’t have the funds for another. I’d have to mend it somehow. Lovely.

That’s when I noticed Noah looking ashen and still amid the excitement of the rest of the apprentices.

He cleared his throat. “Thank you,” he said, then pivoted on his heel and pushed through the crowd and back up the steps.

I sighed in resignation. I’d saved his life, but that would be all the gratitude I would receive. Even after nearly killing myself to save the Academy, I was still an embarrassment to him.

It didn’t matter anymore. There were some battles that I just couldn’t win. I had greater problems to solve.

“Miss Whitlock, David,” the headmaster called as he pushed his way through the crowd of boys. He took one look at the fallen automaton, then took in the carnage of what remained of the large casks of wine, some still spilling their contents out through cracks in the sides of the wide barrels. “Thank the Lord you are unharmed.”

“For the most part,” David said.

“It was very brave of you to rescue Miss Whitlock. However did you manage to shut it down?” Headmaster Lawrence asked David. I couldn’t believe what I was hearing. No, I could believe what I was hearing. That was what angered me the most. David straightened, sticking out his chest, though his once immaculate shirt had been stained a lovely shade of purple.

Of course he would take the credit. Why wouldn’t he?

“Actually, it was Meg who stopped the automaton. She thought to use the cask arm to knock it over. Then she was the one to leap upon it and disable it.” David lifted his chin as the rest of the boys turned to me all at once.

I felt as shocked as they looked, and hoped my mouth was not hanging as slack-jawed as theirs were.

The headmaster’s gaze swung to me. “Is that so.” He looked me up and down, his expression pensive. “Well, that was very foolish of you. You could have been gravely injured. Whoever did this had intended irreparable harm. I’m surprised you weren’t killed.”

I tucked my head in an appropriately subdued way so he wouldn’t see me roll my eyes. “Yes, Headmaster.”

“Now go home and make yourself decent.” He clapped his hands loudly, drawing the attention of the boys. “The rest of you will stay and help set this right.”

The room collectively groaned.

I didn’t bother fighting. It wasn’t worth it, not now with my ruined clothing and the throbbing pain in my hip. I limped a bit as I climbed the stair. Occasionally an instructor or a fellow student would rush past me down the stair or along the corridor. I paid them no heed as I wandered back toward the courtyard. Now that the fight was over, I ached in every part of my body.

As I passed by the room that held my automaton, I caught a glimpse of the light from the corridor reflecting off the pristine shine of her metal face. I paused only for a second. I’d had my fill of automatons.

Shaking my head, I stepped passed the slightly opened door. The Academy needed to invest in some locks, especially with a saboteur around.

A leather-covered hand grabbed me by the face, covering my mouth as a strong arm wrenched me backward.

I felt a jolt like lightning snap through me as I grabbed the hand at my mouth with both hands and pried the smallest finger away.

Wrenched to the side, I struggled. I took the finger and pulled it straight back until I heard a loud snap. The man cried out and pulled his hand away. I screamed as loudly as I could, then held the hand and pulled it to my mouth so I could bite through the leather glove.

With all my force I kicked and stomped, landing a heel on the arch of his boot and throwing my head back into his face. A sharp pain sliced through my head. I felt as if I had just smashed it into something metal. After a second pained shout from the man, the arm around my waist let go, and I charged forward like a hare flushed from the briar.

I bounded through the corridors and down the stairs into the open courtyard. Spinning around, I gasped for breath. There was no one behind me. I was alone.

Carriages rattled in the bay. Without further hesitation I ran down the ramp into the large tunnel. Several Amusementists were arriving. Headmaster Lawrence must have sent for them to help. I recognized the Chadwick crest at once.

“Oliver!” I ran to him and threw myself forward. He caught me and held me steady as I shook in his arms.

“Meg, what happened? I heard there was an accident.” He took in the sight of my disheveled clothing.

“An attack,” I coughed out, so overwrought I could hardly speak. I just wanted to feel safe. I feared I couldn’t feel safe again. “There’s a saboteur. The man . . .” I started coughing again. I couldn’t breathe.

“Here.” He helped me into his fancy coach, uncaring that my skirts were still dripping with wine. He spoke briefly with the driver, then came back to the door. “The coach will take you home.”

“Wait,” I tried to call out, but he was already running up the ramp. I wanted to tell him about the man in the mask, but I couldn’t speak. My throat felt closed shut.

The carriage began to roll down the long tunnel. I wrapped my arms around myself and just tried to stop shaking.

By the time I reached home and managed to fill a bath with scalding-hot water, my panic had abated some, but not my fear.

Whoever had grabbed me had been waiting in the room where I had been spending several hours a day by myself. He’d been watching me and knew my patterns. He had to be the saboteur. He had changed the automaton so it would cause chaos, then had taken that opportunity to attack. I felt hunted, not even safe in my own skin.

Even though I had no proof, I was certain of one thing.

The saboteur had to be the man with the clockwork mask.

The next morning before sunrise a note arrived calling me to an emergency Gathering of the Order. When I arrived at the monastery, rumbling voices from the main hall permeated the corridors as I joined the river of men flowing steadily toward the Gathering.

I flinched any time someone brushed up against me. The lingering fear from the attack had not abated. The man with the clockwork mask had managed to sneak inside the monastery. I felt I had to be aware of every detail around me, which was exhausting. I had not had a restful sleep. Nightmares of my attacker lurking in every shadow haunted me.

“Meg!”

I let out a gasp as I leapt and spun around. It was Peter. I placed a hand over my heart. “You startled me.”

Peter pushed past Instructor Ivan, then matched my stride.

“Do you have any idea what could have caused the automaton to attack?” he asked. “Some of the other apprentices were speculating about it while we were mopping things up yesterday, but each theory is as implausible as the next.”

“You mean they don’t intend to blame me again?” I couldn’t resist the barb. It was early, and I hadn’t yet had my tea.

Peter just gave me an impatient look. Well, since it was all about to be revealed anyway . . . “There’s a saboteur at the Academy. The accident with your hand, the aviary, and now this, they’re all connected.”

“A saboteur?” Peter’s eyes grew so large, I could see the whites.

“I’m sorry, Peter. I thought it was you.” I hurried forward as his steps faltered, putting a gap between us, but it wasn’t enough. He quickly caught up.

“That’s why you didn’t wish for me to work on your automaton. Oh God, honestly! How could you think that of me?” He grabbed my arm and halted us both. The stream of people continued on around us.

“I couldn’t believe it, not really, but you were the one who built the first faulty machine, and the headmaster caught you studying my plans for the aviary, and, well . . .”

“I’m a Rathford.” Peter let out a heavy breath.

“I’m so sorry, Peter. The headmaster ordered me to keep my distance and not tell any of this to you. Will you forgive me?” We began to walk again. I settled a little, with him by my side. It felt good to have him with me again.