The Conquering Dark: Crown

Charlotte’s bright blue eyes rose to meet his. Those iridescent orbs seemed old beyond years. “I know that. Even Gretta spoke of him only in whispers.”

 

 

That communicated leagues of Gaios’s mythical weight. Gretta Aldfather was a centuries-old lycanthrope and Charlotte’s past brutal mentor, a furious legend in her own right.

 

Imogen pressed close to Charlotte. “We both know what he’s capable of, Malcolm. But we’ll stand together.”

 

He nodded, his throat tight. Simon was right. There would be no sending them away even if it was for the best. When he spoke, it was deeper than usual. “Go down and get something to eat. Then off to bed with you both. We need you fresh and ready when the time comes.”

 

Charlotte offered a smile that would melt solid ice and scampered off like an acrobat. Imogen moved slowly and carefully. He stared after them when Charlotte darted back to him. She tugged him down by his lapels, then stood on her tiptoes and planted a kiss on his cheek with an enthusiastic, “Good night!” She ran off again, grabbing Imogen’s hand and helping her along the tricky slope to the ladder sticking up though a gap in the roof.

 

Drawing a hand across his cheek, Malcolm settled himself in their little nest of warm blankets and plush pillows, amused at their desire for simple comforts even for this small task. He wouldn’t be surprised if there was a picnic basket about somewhere to go along with it. He was tempted to look when his stomach growled. Utilizing Penny’s miraculous long-range scope on the rifle, he made a quick scan of the surrounding area. It appeared serene and still, despite the ravaged grounds. It remained that way for almost two hours.

 

The sun was beginning to filter over the distant hillocks when the earth shook. Malcolm grabbed hold of the roof’s trembling edge and lifted the rifle. Gaios came riding atop a chunk of earth the size of a farmer’s cottage, pulled by what Malcolm could only call doglike golems. The creatures drew the chariot faster than a fleet coach, leaving a deep, rough furrow behind. Gaios was dressed in a long white garment with a crimson mantle over one shoulder similar to the toga of ancient Roman nobleman. His long white hair flowed in the wind like Zeus descending to Earth. Cowering next to him were Jane and her father.

 

Malcolm sounded the alarm by slapping the back of his hands together. The temporary tattoos flared, as they would on everyone’s hands below, warning them of an incoming enemy. Malcolm lifted the rifle and took aim at Gaios. When the target rumbled into range, he squeezed the trigger. The shell was on target, but with a flick of his wrist, Gaios brought up a section of his stony chariot and deflected the shot.

 

Malcolm heard footsteps as Simon came up quickly behind and crouched at his side. “We’re out of time, Simon. I hope we’re ready.”

 

“We are,” was all Simon said.

 

“He isn’t alone.” Malcolm’s voice held an edge. “Jane Somerset and her father are with him.”

 

“His lightning elemental?”

 

“They are innocents in this. She won’t hurt anyone.” Malcolm paused before growling, “And I won’t hurt her.”

 

“I’m not asking you to.” Regret touched Simon’s eyes. “But she may not be given that choice.”

 

Malcolm knew he was right.

 

“Let’s see what our guest wants,” Simon said, turning to head back down. “Penny’s on her way to take this position. And that poor woman down there will need to see a familiar face.”

 

Malcolm set down the rifle in case Penny wanted to use it, and he followed Simon. By the time they stepped out through the wrecked front of Hartley Hall, everyone had taken up their prearranged positions around the mansion, arsenals at the ready. The two girls had barely slept, but still they both looked spry, their enhanced natures keeping them going far beyond any normal human.

 

The land and air trembled. Gaios’s chariot tore through the grounds as the massive stone monsters dragged it closer. They roared some fifty yards from the portico and stopped in a cloud of dirt and crumbling rock. The beasts collapsed into dust so Gaios could stare down unhindered, his face a mask of rage. Mr. Somerset was held in a prison of hardened dirt that came up to his chest. He looked like a man caught in a nightmare. Jane was on the other side of the earth elemental, on her knees, encased in stone as well. Her pleading eyes were on her father.

 

Malcolm saw pure red. Jane had believed in the goodness of Gaios. Guilt stabbed him, knowing he could have stopped this before it began.

 

“Archer!” Gaios’s voice boomed down from his mount. “I know you have the Stone. I feel it. Give it to me or this man dies. Now.”

 

“Please don’t hurt my father!” beseeched Jane, struggling to move. “Take me instead!”

 

Clay Griffith, Susan Griffith & Clay Griffith's books