Magisterium

24

At the head of the pack ran Kevin Kapoor.

Glenn grabbed a dead soldier’s spear off the ground. It was broken in half but was perfect for what Glenn had in mind. Abbe Daniel turned when she heard Glenn approach, but was too late. She swung the butt of the spear and caught Abbe square on the back of her head. The witch crumpled to the ground.

All but two of the soldiers had left Aamon’s side. Garen was on his way to him, roaring, claws out. Aamon pushed the soldiers away and ran to meet him. “Go!” he shouted at Glenn. “Destroy it while you can!”

Aamon and Garen fell into a blur of claws and fists. Glenn

scooped an abandoned knife off the ground, but she knew there was nothing she could do to help Aamon. All she could do was run.

Glenn caught sight of Merrin Farrick as she fled. He was writhing and gasping at the end of his noose, his face shading from red to a deadly blue. Someone had pushed him off the platform as they ran to the fight. Glenn paused, knife in hand.

His people are here now, she thought. If they want to rescue the man who murdered her grandparents, they’re welcome to.

Glenn tucked the knife in her belt, keeping her eyes locked on the green of the border, until the fighting was behind her and she wound into a warren of buildings.

To her left rose a rattle of footsteps, the leading edge of a squad of metal-clad soldiers. Glenn dodged right and through a set of iron-banded double doors. The company passed outside and continued on up the street.

The inside of the building was dark and hot. The sounds of

fighting were muted by its stone walls. Everything smelled heavily of smoke. Once her eyes adjusted, she saw orange flames glowing in iron ovens set along the walls. Piles of coal and metal and lines of heavy wooden tables sat all around her. She was in one of the foundries. Who knew, maybe even Kalle Bromden’s? Wherever she was, it seemed the perfect place to hide while the battle blew over. She could wait until dark, slip out, and cross the border. Glenn retreated into a corner and dropped down in the darkness, pulling her knees up into her chest and waiting for her heart to stop pounding.

She could hear the war outside dimly. She tried to guess the story of the fight, but it seemed impossible. The Magisterium’s forces fought Farrick’s, Farrick’s retreated, only to surge again with Kevin in the lead?

It didn’t matter. All she had to do was wait. It would be over soon.

Glenn buried her face in her knees and closed her eyes. She kept seeing Garen launch himself at Aamon, whose last words were still echoing in her ears. “Hopkins.” Her small knight. His nose tipped back to accept her appointment. She tried to brush the images away, but it was no use, and soon it was joined by the picture of Kevin running into town and throwing himself into the fight. Where were they both now?

In pain? Dying while she fled for home?

The doors to the foundry creaked open, letting in a bright shaft of light and then closing again. Glenn’s hand went tight on her knife as she pushed herself farther back into the corner. One set of footsteps scratched tentatively across the dirt floor. Glenn tried to stay still, to slow her breathing, telling herself that whoever it was would soon be gone.

But the visitor didn’t leave. After exploring the far corners of the foundry, the footsteps grew louder. Glenn was wedged between two rows of heavy workbenches, a wall at her back. The rear of the building was to her right. She searched it until she saw a few thin lines of daylight that marked a back door.

The footsteps moved closer, stopping two rows of benches down to Glenn’s left, maybe twenty feet away. Glenn held her breath. A man’s body was outlined by the orange fire of the ovens. His head slowly moved side to side, reminding Glenn of the slink of a cobra as it searched for prey. Glenn tipped forward onto the balls of her feet, ready to bolt to the door. With the wall at her back, if he got close and turned down her row of benches, she’d be trapped. The man shifted, paused, then moved toward her.

Glenn ran from her hiding place and made for the door. She

pulled at the handles, and the door gave slightly but didn’t open.

Locked. A pair of hands grabbed her shoulders and spun her around.

Glenn cried out until a hand slapped onto her mouth, silencing her. A face loomed out of the darkness, a wrinkled gray plain lit by the fires and the sliver of daylight behind her.

Merrin Farrick.

“Who are you?” he said, his voice a horrible rasp. The scarlike line of the noose encircled his throat. He slowly moved his hand aside and Glenn gasped for air.

“No one. I’m just — ”

Merrin grabbed Glenn’s wrist and jerked it up into the firelight.

The red jewel glowed between them. When Merrin saw it, his eyes sparkled with greed. “This is what Kapoor was talking about, isn’t it?

What does it do?”

“I don’t know what you’re talking about! Please let me — ”

Merrin shoved her into one of the wooden tables. Glenn’s spine slammed into its corner and she cried out in pain.

“We have lived for too long under that monster’s boot,” Farrick said. “If you think I’ll let our chance at freedom get melted down to slag, you’re out of your mind.”

Glenn’s hand slipped behind her to the knife at her back. There was a crash outside the foundry. Merrin turned to investigate it, and Glenn saw her chance. When Merrin turned back, Glenn’s blade was hovering at the rise of his Adam’s apple.

“Now, I said — ”

Merrin grinned, then there was a flash of movement as he

snatched the knife out of her hand. He turned the blade over and rested the point just under Glenn’s chin, lifting it to expose the soft flesh of her throat.

“You come here and think you know what’s best for us,” Merrin growled as his free hand grabbed at the bracelet.

Glenn tried to pull it away from him, panicking at the memory of the power rising inside her, overcoming her, wiping her away.

“Don’t,” Glenn pleaded. “You don’t know what you’re doing.”

Merrin got hold of her hand, but Glenn yanked it to her chest, dragging Merrin forward until she was just inches from his hatchet-like face and stringy hair.

“She’s my mother,” Glenn said. “The Magistra. This bracelet is the only thing that keeps me from becoming just like her. So take it if you want, but you’ll be dead before you can walk to the door.”

Merrin stopped. His eyes narrowed on Glenn’s. He leaned

forward so Glenn could feel his lips alongside her ear.

“Well, then,” he whispered. “I guess I’ll have to sort you out before I take it.”

He raised his hand, and the pulse in Glenn’s throat beat against the blade of the knife. Glenn sucked in a breath, waiting for the cut.

“Merrin!”

The voice came from behind him. As Merrin turned, still holding the knife to Glenn’s neck, Glenn saw Kevin standing behind him. The sword in his hand gleamed red in the fires of the foundry.

“Get away from her.”

Merrin laughed. “Well, well, the hero of the hour.”

“I said — ”

“You don’t have it in you, boy. If you’d been able to do your job and get the bracelet from her before, we wouldn’t be here now. Serves us right sending some outsider child to do our work for us.”