Malcolm glared at her and ran toward the collapsed archway where Ferghus had hopefully fallen, but the man was not there.
From her high perch, Penny saw the Irishman running toward King Edward’s chair. “There!” She pointed and reloaded her stovepipe cannon.
Ferghus vaulted up to the ancient chair, which lay on its side. The thought of Penny’s blowing to dust the ancient Scottish relic, the Stone of Scone that lay beneath the chair, propelled Malcolm toward the Irishman. They collided and tumbled over the chair to crash at the feet of Simon and the Baroness, who were still locked in struggle.
Simon was clearly weakening, his movement slowing, his sword point lower. He grew vulnerable to the Baroness’s untiring machine power. A gauntleted hand grabbed the wires connecting one of the right forearms to the biceps and yanked. Her arm bent awkwardly in a shower of sparks, eliciting a scream from her. She grabbed Simon’s shoulder and jerked him forward into her knee. Simon gasped for breath as his unprotected abdomen took the blow. He fell backward over Malcolm.
The Scotsman heard Simon say an ancient word in desperation. No aether came to bear and frustration washed over the powerless magician. Simon cursed in English and dropped his sword to the stone floor. He lunged up awkwardly at the Baroness, just ducking a blow from the mechanical arm with its spinning blades, which seemed to have repaired themselves. With one hand, Simon pulled a lever on the other gauntlet. He brought his hands close together and a fierce arc of electricity formed between them, making his hair stand nearly on end. His hands came in contact with a mechanical arm and the Baroness’s body locked in a rictus seizure as the current coursed through her. Smoke rose from her metal arms. Simon screamed in pain but was unable to let go.
Malcolm threw himself at Simon, bearing him to the ground. The connection broke, but Simon still writhed in agony. From the floor, Malcolm shouted, “Penny! Blow them to hell!”
At the same time, the sound of tramping feet came from the front of the Abbey. More soldiers approached through the smoke. Some stopped and raised muskets, loosing a thunderous volley. Ferghus ducked and cursed. More soldiers leveled their guns. The Irishman flung the senseless Baroness over his shoulder and ran for the north transept past the body of the dead gorilla.
“Stop them,” Simon gasped. Malcolm rose only to hear Penny shout.
“Everybody down!”
“Bloody hell!” Malcolm threw himself over Simon as another boom sounded and the north transept exploded with a mix of fire and black smoke.
When the dust cleared, the alcove was empty. Penny had missed. The two villains had slipped out of the abbey. Malcolm staggered toward the exit. As he came out, he dodged a huge meaty fist and ducked back inside. By the time he spun back around the corner, the mechanical ape was gone. He heard screams and saw a disruption in the crowd including a few bodies flying into the air. Malcolm fought his way into the chaos, shoving and pushing as best he could with his flagging strength. He gasped for breath as he ran, finally reaching the river where he saw the great ape leap from a jetty onto a strange steam launch with paddle wheels amidships. The boat’s funnel belched greenish smoke, similar to the hue of aether that Malcolm had witnessed in the past. On the deck, he saw Ferghus kneeling next to the Baroness. The behemoth ape used its foot to cast off with enough force to put the boat a good distance from the dock. The paddle wheels roared with amazing speed and the launch churned out onto the river, throwing up an admirable wake.
Malcolm returned to Westminster through the tumultuous and bloody aftermath. Soldiers were trying to restore some order, but it was futile. Once inside the Abbey, Malcolm found Penny yanking the gauntlets from Simon’s hands. The flesh underneath was burned, but he was able to move his fingers. Kate stood next to him with a small bottle ready.
Simon turned to face Malcolm for a report, but when he saw the Scotsman staring at his seared skin, he lowered his hands, hiding the pain. “What happened?”
“They got away,” Malcolm said simply. “Boat waiting on the river.”
Simon grimaced as Kate massaged ointment into his burnt hands. He surveyed the church. “Unfortunate, but at least they didn’t get what they came for.”
“Yes, King William is safe, right?” Penny asked.
“He is.” Kate tried not to wince at Simon’s seared flesh.
Simon smiled at her. “Thank you, Kate. But His Majesty wasn’t the target.”
Malcolm shook his head. “Well if they wanted to destroy the abbey, they did a brilliant job of it.” The church smoldered in many places, and other sections were a broken ruin.
“I think that was mainly me,” Penny admitted sheepishly.