Chapter eighty-four

Nine-of-nine

‘You again’ hissed Vala, ‘third time lucky it seems’.

Hardacre said nothing; he had no breath left to waste. The concentration required in staying hidden had been enough to drain him of almost all of his magical energy. He jumped down into the empty pool where she was standing. He had no idea what he was going to do beyond distracting her for a while. She took two steps towards him, but she did not draw her sword.

‘This time I paralyse you before I cut you’

‘Parlysu’ she shouted.

Hardacre stepped backwards, searching for a counter-spell, but it was too late. Every muscle in his body went rigid at once; every attached nerve stopped firing. He could not move from below the neck. Vala drew her sword.  A grim and triumphant smile grew on her lips.

She stood for a few seconds savouring her triumph. This would be such a good kill.

‘Oh, how I love to do this’ she murmured, ‘to extinguish life is a wonderfully physical experience’

Hardacre eyes flickered across at something. A gout of water had begun to flood silently into the empty pool from behind his enemy. Despite his predicament his eyes fixed on it for a moment. He forced himself to look back at his assassin.  It was too late; Vala’s eyes had followed his.

‘You’re a coward’ he hissed, but it was too late; she had realised her danger. She jumped out of the pool in one bound; like an antelope jumping free of a cheetah’s jaws. The water engulfed Hardacre rapidly and freed him. He struggled up and pulled off his sodden jacket. In a single fluid motion he threw it at Vala. It landed where she had been just a moment before, leaving a puddle. Again, she had got away.

‘Bugger!’ muttered Hardacre, involuntarily.  He couldn’t help looking round to check that no-one had heard him.  He stepped out of the pool and put his hand in the puddle as if trying to find something in the empty water. She had gone, apparently unscathed.

He pulled himself up out of the water and tried his limbs again; they were stiff but they seemed to be working fine. He waited, watching the orange glow of the Portal. He was the wrong side of one once again.

A few minutes later the gate blinked and went out. Hardacre saw a flurry of activity and then John tottered through it, holding Bea’s half-decayed coat in his hand. The portal flickered again and returned to its normal orange glow. John jumped into the water and paddled through it, apparently unaware of any danger.

‘Sir…’ began Hardacre, but then he saw the empty look in his Master’s eyes. John jumped up on to the dry and handed him Bea’s coat, just as he would do after a night at the theatre.

‘This may need to be cleaned; he mumbled’ and just stood there, the magic water dripping from his trousers.

‘Kelemeia’ whispered Hardacre

‘Who’s she?’ asked John

Hardacre shook his head. There was no pint trying to have a conversation. Only rest could help now. 

He transferred his attention to the thing that John had handed him. The garment was still smoking and it had a strange greenish tinge. He fished around in the coat’s pockets and pulled out a sphere – exactly like the one that Bea had use to open the two portals: the one here in Ortia and the other in Klethropolis.

‘Useful’ he muttered

John smiled at him

‘That’s good’ he said, to no-one in particular. He lay down in the wet patch left by Hardacre’s sodden jacket and fell asleep.

‘Sir…’ said Hardacre, but he knew that his master would not respond.  How would he get him home?