The Conquering Dark: Crown (16 page)

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

“You have no idea,” Nick muttered.

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 India 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.”

“It's getting difficult to hear you, Shri Ishwar.” Kate was practically shouting now.

A high-pitched hiss drowned out his reply. There was silence, and the dot near the Himalayas stopped blinking.

“Hello? Hello?” Kate called out. “Are you there?”

There was no answer. She reached out to touch the dot on the map.

Simon grasped her wrist. “Not yet, Kate. We don't know what's on the other side. It could be a ruse. You recognized the name Ishwar?” He closed the portal, fearful that someone could be listening in.

“Yes.” Kate put a shaking hand to her forehead. “There was a magician named Ishwar whom my father met in India many years ago. He spoke very highly of the man in his journals. But what could he have to do with the Stone of Scone?” She went for the bellpull to summon for Hogarth, but the manservant was already standing in the doorway. “Oh, Hogarth. Did you hear what happened?”

“I did, miss. I also know of Mr. Ishwar.”

“Did you ever meet him? Did you recognize his voice?”

“I met him once many years ago. It was impossible for me to say if that was him speaking. I'm sorry, miss.”

Kate went to Hogarth and stood close to him. “Would you trust this Ishwar?”

“I couldn't say, miss, but I'm sure your father would.”

“If that was truly Ishwar.” Simon began to twirl the empty chain on his waistcoat. “It could've been an agent of Gaios trying to draw us out using the slimmest bit of information, the name of a colleague of your father's.”

Kate stared intensely at Hogarth. “Tell me, did my father steal the true Stone of Scone from Westminster?”

“I don't know, miss. Once I was given the duty of watching over you and Miss Imogen, he ceased to discuss his travels and plans with me. He felt it was safer for both of you if he kept elements of his life separate. That may also be why he gave the key to Mr. Archer's mother, knowing it would go to Mr. Archer, rather than to you, miss.”

Kate turned back to Simon. “What if my father stole the Stone to keep it from Gaios? We know from the key map that he visited places Gaios has traveled over the last few decades. New Orleans. Batavia. And there are no journals from those expeditions, as if he made those journeys secretly.” Kate began to walk along the shelves of her father's notebooks, studying the spines. “Hogarth, you're telling me the truth, aren't you? You haven't kept secrets from me about my father, even for my own good?”

“No, miss.” Hogarth's stoic expression fell a little. “He told me nothing. My only duty was the welfare of you and your sister. I would very much regret having to report my failures to your father now.”

“Failures?” Kate spun around in shock, almost angry. “How dare you think that? You have done more than any man could. Any failure relating to Imogen is mine, completely. Do you understand me?”

“Yes, miss.” Hogarth nodded slightly. There was no reading his emotions. It was impossible to tell if he was grateful for the words or unconvinced. But there was no more to be said about it.

Kate returned her attention to Simon and Penny. “I think my father stole the Stone of Scone and hid it, apparently in India. He must have discovered that Gaios needed it.”

Simon looked dubious. “Why would he hide it there? He knew India was the home ground of Baroness Conrad.”

“It does seem like a bold choice of hiding spot, right in the enemy's backyard. Not atypical of my father.”

“I like it,” Penny said. “Why would the bad guys bother to look there?”

“So,” Kate began, “we need to go to India, find Ishwar, and remove the Stone to a safer spot. I'll gather everyone. We should leave by tonight.”

Simon held up his hand. “We need to consider this move carefully.”

“Consider what? You heard Ishwar. There are people being killed in the search for the Stone. I'm tired of hiding in this dark house while Gaios moves with impunity.”

“I'm not saying we aren't going. But I want to know more about what Gaios plans for the Stone.”

“Why does that matter, Simon? We must act. Gaios has thrown wave after wave of attacks at us. He's mutilated my sister. He's destroyed my home. And we've done nothing in return!”

Simon ran his thumb over the key and replaced it on the chain. He could sense that Kate was edging toward a ferocious anger. There was no point in disputing her. He chose his words carefully. “I agree with you, Kate. We have taken enormous damage. But we are marshaling our forces to strike back. It's imperative that we don't play into Gaios's hands by being instinctive in our reactions. I know you're eager to strike at him. I am too. However, we don't want to do something that could unleash power that Gaios could use to his advantage. If we don't know how the Stone will be used, we could easily stumble into a catastrophe.”

“Fine.” Kate took a deep breath that held little patience. “What do you suggest?”

“This seems a dirty play, Simon.” Nick rolled a small bottle between his fingers and glanced nervously at the steel door to the makeshift cell where Ferghus was held.

“I know.” Simon rapped his fingers nervously against the wall.

“There's no choice.” Kate paced outside the door. “We need information now.”

Nick exhaled and continued to fidget with the vial.

Malcolm stepped closer and sneered. “What exactly is the problem, Barker? The man is a murderer many times over. He would've killed any of us, and almost did for Charlotte and Imogen. You're worried about
him
?”

Nick snorted in derision. “I don't expect any remorse from the one who nearly beat him to death.”

“I wish I had finished it.” Malcolm's voice was cold.

Nick glared at the Scotsman, but said, “Simon, Ferghus wasn't always the man you see. He couldn't control his power. He drank too much to hide from it. It drove him mad. That's something that could happen to any one of us.”

Simon pursed his lips thoughtfully.

Nick gestured toward the cell door. “Now he hardly knows who or where he is. I don't relish the idea of being the last man to talk to him and lying to him on top of it.”

“I appreciate that, Nick.” Simon struggled to keep his tone even. He felt the fierce gaze of Kate on his back, and he understood her impatience. However, he sensed shame in Nick's voice that he'd never heard before. Simon's flexing hands betrayed his doubts, but he still knew which way they had to go. “It does you credit, but the man is an unrepentant villain. As Malcolm said, he's killed innocents and would again.”

“Fine.” Nick took a deep breath. “The Simon I knew a year ago wouldn't have countenanced this.”

“Perhaps not. The Nick I knew wouldn't have been so hesitant, I think. This past year has done a lot to all of us. We are in a war for our survival and, like it or not, Ferghus is the enemy. We need to know what he knows. And we need it now. So I'm asking you to use the glamour spell to appear as Gaios and talk to him. Draw out whatever you can.”

“I'll do it, but not as Gaios. There's only one man Ferghus would want to see.” Nick popped the cork off the bottle and drank the elixir in a single swallow. As he wiped the back of his hand across his lips, he whispered a word and suddenly a new man stood in the hallway. He wore a long leather jerkin and knee boots from the seventeenth century. His hair was dark and fell in ringlets.

Simon's pulse jumped. He recognized the face from the background of a painting he had seen in the Medici Palace. “Pendragon.”

“Yes.” Nick's voice was now deep and authoritative, without its usual sneering petulance.

“Amazing. Is that how Pendragon sounded?”

“Close enough to fool that crazy bastard in there.” Nick shook Pendragon's head sadly. “Damn me.”

Simon pulled the bolt and swung the door open. He watched the uncanny figure walk into the room. Nick's step faltered. Despite the liberal use of carbolic cleansers and frequent changes of linen, the cell had the familiar scent of a death room. The once-vigorous fire elemental lay frail and weak on the bed. Covered by a sheet and simple blanket, his chest rose and fell with rapid breaths. His mouth gaped open, dry and cracked.

Nick made his way to the bedside. He steadied himself. A lamp stood on the table, glowing with the faint light of a single brownie. “Ferghus. Ferghus, wake up.”

The elemental moved his mouth.

Nick bent over the yellowish face. “Ferghus! Open your eyes. Do you hear me? Open your eyes!” The Irishman's gasping mouth closed briefly and facial muscles ticked. Nick reached out and put his hand against the waxy cheek. “Ferghus! Open your bloody eyes!”

Crusty eyelids slitted. Ferghus stared at nothing. He snorted and choked, arching his back while desperately trying to draw breath. Then he took a wet gasp and settled back onto the mattress where he resumed his shallow breathing.

“Still with us?” Nick studied the quivering figure on the bed.

Ferghus actually shifted his watery gaze toward the man standing over him. After a second, his fishlike mouth curved into something like a painful smirk. He mouthed the word, “Byron.”

Nick smoothed red hair from the elemental's forehead, which glistened with gel. “How do you feel?”

Ferghus worked his dry mouth, but couldn't make a sound. Nick turned to a pitcher and poured water onto a cloth. He folded it and put the towel to the elemental's lips. Ferghus gratefully leaned forward into the moisture, closing his mouth around the wet cloth. Then he nodded slightly and turned his face toward Nick, who held the towel ready.

“Thanks,” Ferghus whispered.

“You're welcome. I'm happy to see you again.”

The Irishman closed his eyes briefly. “How did you find me? Where am I?”

“You're safe.”

Ferghus struggled to pull his hand out from under the tangled bedclothes, fighting against the simple sheet as if it was a ponderous weight. Nick drew the sheet away so the Irishman could hold out his stiff hand. Nick hesitated, almost looked back at Simon, but then took the thin fingers with uncommon delicacy. Ferghus sighed and sank into his pillow.

“You're cold,” Nick said. “Are you in pain?”

“Yes, but it's helping me focus. I've not been this clearheaded in centuries.”