Kaspar raised his dagger and moved towards the ogre. He ducked under the shaft of the mill wheel, which was still spinning, and skirted the stone in the middle of the room. I should have gone to help but I held back, paralysed by terror. The knife in my hand felt feeble as a reed.
The ogre let Kaspar approach. He was in no hurry. The millers must have been making some repairs when the Armagnaken found them. A wide plank stood across two sawhorses, the saw blade still wedged into the cut it had begun. It formed a natural barricade between the two men. They eyed each other like two cats across a wall. Kaspar crouched. He looked quicker than his opponent, though doubtless the ogre was more practised.
But perhaps he had killed enough. With a look of disdain, he lowered his guard. Kaspar saw his chance and moved forward. At the same time, almost as if he was too weary to carry it, the ogre let his torch slip from his hands.
Everything after that was a nightmare of fire and horror. As Kaspar sprang forward, he kicked up a plume of sawdust from the floor. It swirled and caught the flame from the torch. In an instant, the dust exploded in a cloud of flame. Kaspar landed in the inferno with a scream, stumbled back, caught himself on the upraised plank and was knocked back into the flames. I ran to him.
But I had forgotten the other Armagnak. He came the moment he saw me move, dancing across the spinning stone wheel. Monstrous shadows swayed behind him. He swung his sickle at my head and I jerked back. Almost far enough. The back of the blade caught my cheek: it should have been blunt, but he had honed the tool so that both edges were razor sharp, tapering to a wicked point that could have flicked out my eye with a single prick.
Blood streamed from my cheek. The angel advanced towards me. Silhouetted against the fire, he looked like Death himself. I scrambled back on my hands. To my left, Kaspar writhed in flames. Even above the roar of the fire I could hear his screams.
As I scuttled back, my palm pressed against something hard and thin on the wooden floor. A long nail, probably dropped by the carpenters. I balled it in my fist, the point just protruding between my knuckles, and struggled to my knees as the angel approached. He thought I was praying and laughed, delighted. His left hand made a blood-soaked sign of the cross, while his right raised the sickle for the sacrifice.
I toppled forward, stretching my arm towards his boot. Perhaps he thought I was beseeching him for mercy, for he hesitated with his blow. The nail sank in with all my weight behind it: it pierced his bare foot and went clean through into the floor.
He howled and swung the sickle wildly, but I had already rolled clear. He tried to follow but could not: for a moment he was nailed to the spot.
I ran to Kaspar. Half his clothes had burned away: beneath the charred cloth I could no longer tell what was skin, ash or bone. I turned him over to smother the flames, but each time I moved him they seemed to creep around to the other side.
The fire had spread across the middle of the room now – an impenetrable rampart. The only way out was into the river. I picked up Kaspar in my arms and dragged him towards the high door. The moment I stood smoke rushed into my lungs. My head swam; dizzy with lack of air I almost fell on top of poor Kaspar. He was barely conscious.
I looked back. The angel was still there: he had ripped himself free, leaving a hunk of bloody flesh nailed to the floor. He came limping towards me through the smoke. The blade he held burned with reflected fire. Below me, through the open door, water spilled over the giant wheel.
I stood and confronted the angel, putting myself between him and Kaspar. I had dropped my knife in the fire and was defenceless. He swung his sickle at me and I retreated – tripped on Kaspar’s limp body and stumbled back. I spread my arms to catch myself on the wall.
All I felt was the emptiness of open space, the awful horror of nothingness. I was falling. My arm struck the wheel with a sickening crack. I bounced off it like a stone and landed in the churning black water.
The screen dimmed. In the windowless office, Nick almost screamed in frustration. Had a goblin stabbed him? His health bar still showed life. He looked around. It wasn’t the slow fade of death, but a giant shadow crossing the sky. As the sun returned he saw an enormous fish eagle swooping down towards the black knight. Its outstretched talons tore into his armour, carving deep rents in the steel.
The goblins abandoned Urthred’s dissolving corpse and charged. A beat of the fish eagle’s giant wings swept them off their feet and hurled them back, bowling over the ranks behind.
Nick saw his opening. With the goblins programmed to rally against the biggest threat, a way had opened to the tree. He ran forward, hurdling the few spears that still stabbed at him, knocking others out of the way before they could strike. At the corner of the screen, he saw the fish eagle batting its wings to fend off the goblins, who had at last managed to get within range. The black knight picked up his lance and aimed it like a javelin, right at the fish eagle’s heart.
The bird rose into the air, a couple of goblins screaming and writhing in its claws. The knight hurled the lance. The fish eagle twisted to avoid it, but its very size impeded it. The spear pierced its beating wing. It lurched, swooped and plunged back to the ground.
The black knight was already running, back to the tree and the prize floating in its branches. But the Wanderer was closer. He bounced over the tangled roots, leaped up and snatched the ball of light. Branches rushed past his face, though they could not scratch him. With a cry of fury, the black knight whirled his mace and flung it like a hammer, straight at the Wanderer’s head. At the bottom of the screen, a message in a Gothic font announced:
File acquired
Nick hit ESCAPE.
The river was strong, far stronger than my exhausted limbs. It took all my power just to keep my head afloat. I shouted to keep myself awake, to prove to the darkness I still lived. I shouted to my father and cursed him for bringing me into the world. I shouted to Kaspar. I told him I was sorry. I told him I loved him.
The current carried me far downriver until I came to a place where it eased into a broad bend. There, on the near shore, I saw the glow of lamplight. It was almost too late. I had sunk into a cold stupor: I might never have roused myself. But I owed it to Kaspar to stay alive. With the last of my strength I splashed to the shore and waded through the shallows until I found a place where cattle had trodden a ramp in the riverbank. I crawled up it and sprawled in the mud.
‘Is there somewhere we can print this out?’
Nick’s fingers felt arthritic, the sinews in his wrists knotted from the battle. He looked up from the computer. Sabine was standing in the door, breathing hard.
‘Your machine’s already connected to the printer in my office.’
Nick clicked the button. He pushed back the chair, but Emily was already standing.
‘I’ll go.’
Sabine pointed to an office across the hall. She let Emily past and leaned against the door frame, her arms folded across her chest.
‘Who was that guy – the black knight?’
‘You saw him?’ Nick’s head was pounding like a drum; the merest twitch of his eyes drew stabs of pain in his temples.
Sabine turned her body and lifted her right arm slightly. For the first time, Nick noticed the tattoo on her bare shoulder. A giant fish eagle, wings back and talons bared.
‘Randall told me to look out for you.’
‘Thanks.’ He pushed his memory stick into the computer and copied the file across. He hadn’t even looked at it yet. ‘If you hadn’t saved me we’d have lost everything. Whatever it is we got.’
‘Nick?’ Emily pushed past Sabine back into the room. She looked dazed. Her hand trembled as she put down the printout.