It was now late in the night and the streets outside the palace were almost deserted. Samuel kept looking behind them, but there was no sign of any pursuit. They sped along the streets as fast as they dared, making sure to avoid the taverns and market streets, where people often gathered until all hours.
They eventually made it to the safehouse and pulled to a halt with the carriage merely a few footsteps from the doorway. The crowd was still thick and did not look like dispersing any time soon, but they had no problem shouting a space around themselves. Samuel and Eric both leapt down from the driver’s seat and Samuel opened the carriage door. Books tumbled out onto the ground, falling open and spilling loose pages. They both gathered up as many books as they could and then topped their piles with even more books from inside the luxurious cabin until they could barely see over the stacks in their arms. As they rushed inside, Goodfellow appeared on the stairway and came to their assistance.
‘You actually did it?’ he asked with disbelief.
‘Shut up and help us carry them in,’ Samuel called out. ‘The guards will probably be after us any moment.’
Goodfellow leapt into action, hurrying to the carriage and gathering up a pile of his own. Several times they each hurried up and down the narrow stairway, bumping into each other with arms full of heavy books. As Samuel was carrying his seventh armful, Goodfellow came flying down the stairs, nearly sending them both sprawling back down.
‘They’re coming!’ he exclaimed with alarm. ‘I can hear shouting from the market square.’
‘Hell and damnation!’ Samuel swore and threw his books as far up the steps as he could. ‘They’re here!’ he hissed to Eric, who had just come up behind him.
Samuel made the street in one leap and was frantically tossing books as fast and as far as he could up onto the stairs, some tearing from their bindings and losing their pages. Eric was then beside him, helping to shovel out the books. Normally, they would have shuddered at the thought of such an act, but they were desperate to save as many volumes as they could.
‘Go!’ Eric called desperately.
‘The books!’ Samuel hissed back to him, reaching for another handful.
‘Damn the books!’ Eric returned, throwing the cab door shut in Samuel’s face. ‘If they find us here they’ll all be lost. We have to save what we can. I’ll lead them away.’
‘No!’ Samuel told his friend, putting a firm hand on his shoulder. ‘I’ll take care of them. You take care of the books.’
Eric opened his mouth to object, but Samuel was already vaulting back up into the driver’s seat.
He shook the reins hard and cried out, ‘
The crowd jeered and swore as Samuel pushed through them, but thankfully they fell back into place behind him as he passed, creating just as much of an inconvenience for any pursuers. As soon as he was free of the markets, he roared out loud and set the horses galloping along the treacherous street. He could sense riders not far behind. The smell of magic was growing.
After only a few streets, Samuel could hear soldiers behind, shouting and calling for him to stop. Samuel lashed at the reins and his horses bolted forward. A small crowd was ahead and people screamed and swore and dived aside as the carriage thundered forth. A couple were too slow and Samuel felt their bodies go beneath the wheels with a sickening crunch. Samuel cursed himself, but would not let the carriage slow.
He came to a sharp corner and the horses’ hooves slipped on the stones and the carriage skidded as it made the turn. A vacant stand was smashed to pieces against the wall as the carriage swung into it. Looking over one shoulder as he made the turn, Samuel could see the armed riders in pursuit, only half a street behind.
People were still gathered in droves here and they screamed and hurled abuse as he parted them with the careering carriage. This time, it only made his pursuers’ task easier and they galloped through the thinned and screaming crowd behind.
Samuel turned another bend and entered a much wider street. It led downhill towards the south-eastern quarter and his horses had begun picking up their pace when an armoured horse galloped past him on the right. Its rider, wearing the plated armour of the palace, bore a savage look of determination. He reached out towards Samuel’s horses and made for the harness of the outermost animal. Samuel responded by pulling at the reins and moving the carriage away to the left, momentarily beyond the man’s reach. Something flashed in the corner of Samuel’s vision and a sword came swinging down beside him. It bit into his arm, hacking into the flesh just below his elbow and striking right through to the bone. Samuel screamed and threw himself away and across the driver’s seat. The guard raised his sword again and leant over to strike, this time hacking wildly into the padded seat, spilling fluff into the air. His eyes and mouth were wide with fury.
Samuel instinctively threw a spell in retaliation. His mind buzzed with the pain of his ruined arm and he half- surprised himself when the spell actually formed true. The horseman’s mount panicked, its mind filled with blood and wolves, and it leapt aside in terror, slamming into a wall. Both horse and rider tumbled over and disappeared as the carriage continued on, with the vehicle jumping as something solid went under the rear wheel.
Samuel realised that the carriage was slowing and he returned his attention to the first horseman. The man had gained hold of the harness and was bringing the vehicle to a halt. Samuel cast the same spell again and the man’s horse stopped on the spot. The spell had been malformed-something he could not tell what had gone awry- but the effect was just as useful. The man vanished behind as his horse stopped dead still and the harness was torn from his grasp.
Samuel snatched up the reins with one hand and shook his animals back into life. They began galloping anew, but their breathing was now hoarse and laboured, with foam spitting from their lips. He spelled the creatures’ minds to calm them, but they were near exhaustion. He needed time to gather his thoughts, time to cast some spells, but his pursuers kept after him and time was in short supply.
More riders had caught up behind and they were yelling for him to halt. Samuel realised that they would soon overcome him, but his frantic mind could not tell him what else to do. ‘Gods and devils,’ he muttered, glancing at his blood-soaked, ruined arm. Something white was visible jutting from his flesh and Samuel looked away.
A third rider had caught up and now galloped alongside. The man leapt from his mount and onto the seat beside Samuel. It was the Royal Guard who had waited with Samuel in the courtyard, the spokesman, and his face was filled with anger.
‘I’ll teach-’ he began, but Samuel swung his boot up into the man’s jaw and teeth flew to the winds.
The guard clutched at his face with one hand, but recovered quickly, his wide eyes glaring through his bloodied fingers. His other hand drew his sword cleanly from its sheath and he raised it high, but Samuel’s foot struck again, knocking the guard head over heels from the carriage and onto the cobbled street. A momentary yelp of pain sounded as he struck the stones behind.
The horses faltered and Samuel knew he could expect little more from them. There were still other riders behind and he knew they were only biding their time, waiting for his horses to tire.
Gritting his teeth, Samuel realised he would have to abandon the carriage. If he tried to go on, they would overcome him and all would be lost. He sealed his arm in a clot of spells to cover the pain and wrapped it in as much magic as he could to hold in his blood. It felt like a log of rubber dangling from his shoulder. Again, he damned himself for his foolishness.
Gathering his wits, Samuel realised he had a few moments to spare. Seizing the opportunity, he leapt from the carriage and onto the cobbled street, rolling to his feet as the carriage flew on. Spinning on his heels, he saw that three cloaked riders were closing upon him. They were magicians and spells were blooming to life around them.
Samuel darted down the first street he could, supporting his useless arm with the other, and he felt a spell of some nature striking his defences. His spell shield was weakened somewhat, but held. It would only take a few such strikes before it failed completely and he would be defenceless. Running was not usually a sensible choice when facing magicians, but now it was the only option left to him. With his arm in its current state and blood seeping out everywhere, Samuel had no idea how he could possibly defeat them.
The riders followed him down the dark street with their black robes billowing behind them and, desperately, Samuel kicked in the first door he came to.
The house was dark inside and, as he ran in, a number a people leapt up from their beds on the floor, yelling
