Page 6 of The Salted Sceptre
He was standing on top of the Royal Institute between two massive chimney stacks. For some reason he’d dressed for the occasion in a top hat and tails. As if his dress and his precarious position on top of the roof weren’t enough, he’d also conjured up a backdrop of twenty-foot flames that were licking upwards into the sky. From the way he casually tossed fire around while ignoring the defensive water magic thrown at him from the elvesbelow, it was clear that his intention was to set the building ablaze. Perhaps he planned to destroy the entire square.
Hugo joined my side. ‘Look at that outfit. Do you think he’s hoping to be the new Fred Astaire?’
‘Well, he’s missing one Ginger Rogers, if that’s the case.’
As if on cue, Athair’s head tilted downwards. ‘Daughter!’ he bellowed. ‘Come join me and watch this city burn!’
‘I think he wants you to audition for the part,’ Hugo said. ‘He wants to see your tap-dance routine.’
I snorted. ‘I save that for you.’
‘True love is a wondrous thing.’
‘You should know,’ I replied softly as my eyes travelled across the rooftops. ‘We could circle around and come at him from behind.’
‘He’ll see us coming from a mile off.’ Hugo pursed his lips. ‘We could add fuel to his fire and throw our own fire magic at him. If that destroys the roof and it collapses, he’ll fall with it.’
‘That will only compound our problems because he’ll end up inside the building. At least at the moment we can see where he is and what he’s doing.’ I looked around the square. There were still two dozen people or so within its perimeter. Right now they were all in danger; our priority had to be ensuring they got away.
There was a shout from behind us. ‘We’ve got them!’ Boonder called. ‘The witches are down!’
‘Are they alive?’ I asked, keeping my eyes trained on Athair.
‘Yes. Unconscious but breathing.’
As if he’d heard Boonder, Athair zapped out a bolt of lightning towards the witches. I turned and cried out – and so did Boonder when the lightning struck him in the chest. He stared at me with wide eyes and then collapsed without a sound.
Gordon was by his side in seconds. ‘There’s no pulse!’
Hugo was already running over to them, stripping off his jacket and preparing to start CPR. I turned back to Athair ashe raised his hands and released another bolt of electricity. This time it hit one of the witches who was lying on the cold ground. ‘Stop!’ I roared.
Even from a distance I could see Athair’s answering grin. ‘Make me,’ he shouted.
I set my shoulders and gave his silhouetted body a hard look. Very well, then.
Chapter
Three
Ignoring the tattered police cordon, I sprinted for the building. I was no Spiderman – I couldn’t scale the stone exterior. A push of carefully directed air magic could help me ascend but I’d be open to Athair’s machinations if I tried that. Instead I took the slow – albeit sensible – approach of ducking inside and mounting the stairs.
The Royal Institute was full of smoke. There was a lot of expensive artwork on the walls, not to mention a large library packed with priceless books, so there would be a hefty restoration bill to pay once all this was over – assuming the building didn’t end up a complete inferno. I ran up each flight of stairs determined to ensure that didn’t happen. Although I didn’t owe the Royal Institute of Elves a damned thing, wanton destruction was not on my playlist.
The smoke grew thicker the higher I went. By the time I reached the top floor, my eyes were streaming and I was gasping for oxygen. I didn’t waste any time on strategy or stealth because Athair already knew I was on my way; I simply turned left into the nearest room and darted for the windows. I hauled one open and breathed in a blessed gulp of fresh air, then I clambered out and clutched onto the window sill to avoid falling.
From the looks of things, Hugo and the others had pulled Boonder to safety at the side of the square. I saw the sorcerer sit up, his hand clutching his chest; he wasn’t dead, then. I exhaled with relief and squinted upwards. There were only two metres from the window to the roof: I could climb that far.
Thanking the long-dead architects for their foresight in creating decorative stonework that provided handy foot and finger holds, I scrambled up until my hands curled around the roof’s edge. All that training and exercise I’d done with the Primes had served me well; I now had much more upper body strength at my disposal than I’d ever had in the past.
I conjured up a burst of air magic from below to give me the final push I needed then heaved myself onto the rooftop, scalding my fingers on the hot tiles in the process. Athair’s figure materialised in front of me on the flat section of the roof.
There was a wall of flames between us – but that didn’t stop him from trying to chat. ‘You know, Daisy,’ he called, ‘if you were a fiend, you’d have managed that far more easily. It took you ages to get up here and now you’re covered in soot!’
Whose fault was that? I grimaced at his paternal tone and steeled myself, then I drew on as much of the remaining moisture in the air as I could to bring forth a swell of water magic and douse the nearest flames. They hissed and spat angrily, but at least they subsided enough to leave a clear path between Athair and me. I started forward, moving slowly to avoid slipping down this angled section of roof.
I didn’t have a plan, which wasn’t like me. This time I’d have to wing it.
Athair stayed where he was, watching me edge towards him. I kept losing my footing, and I was wary of the remaining fire that was still blazing less than five metres away; its blistering heat slowed my progress even further, but I refrained from producing more water magic to extinguish it. I might be able touse those high flames to my advantage. I liked the thought of burning Athair with his own fire.
