Septimus Heap, Book Six_ Darke - Angie Sage [86]
Marcia was horrified to see that the rolling Fog was accompanied by a line of Things—the outriders of the Darke Domaine. Like the sweep of a terrifying search party, they spread out across Wizard Way, with the Fog tumbling behind. She stared in shock, unable to tear herself away from the disaster unfolding before her.
Marcellus tried to draw Marcia away. “Marcia, you must get to the Wizard Tower at once,” he said.
Merrin’s eyes flashed angrily at Marcellus. With the Darke Domaine advancing ever nearer he felt he was growing stronger. The Two-Faced Ring was growing hot on his thumb and the vicious green faces were beginning to glow. The top face winked up at Merrin, and suddenly he knew he could beat Marcia. He could beat them all. He was in charge now. He was the best.
First Merrin broke the Silent with the worst insult in the Castle, then he broke the Restrain. With a violent twist, he tore himself from Marcellus’s grasp and delivered a vicious kick to the Alchemist’s shins. As Marcellus hopped up and down, gasping in pain, Merrin raised his arms in the air and, in a taunting gesture, he pulled his wrists apart, snapping the Locking Band as if it were no more than tissue paper. Relishing his moment of triumph, Merrin darted forward and waved his left thumb in Marcia’s face, laughing as she instinctively drew back. The ring’s evil-looking faces glowered at her, their jade complexions gleaming.
Marcia knew that there was only one possible reason for Merrin’s sudden surge of power—the oncoming Darke Domaine had indeed been Engendered by him. Up to that moment she had found it hard to believe that Merrin was capable of such a thing but now, as he pranced away, defiantly punching the air with his fist, with his Two-Faced Ring glittering, Marcia realized just how much control Merrin now had. It was a terrifying thought.
“You idiot!” she yelled at him. “You have no idea what you are messing with, do you?”
“Neither do you, Wizard-face.” Merrin laughed. “Run away to your twinkly little Tower and take old haddock-brain with you. I don’t need her anymore. See ya! Ha, ha, ha!” Merrin could hardly contain himself. He had never had such an attentive—such an astonished—audience. It was wonderful. It was what he had always wanted.
“That’s what I think of your stupid Magyk!” he yelled at Marcia, flicking his fingers at her. Gesticulating and laughing, Merrin danced backward, his pale face lit by the still-burning torches and the ghostly candle displays shining onto the empty streets. “Come and get me if you dare!” he yelled.
Marcia did dare. It was undignified but she didn’t care. Inside Merrin’s nasty little stomach the precious half of the Paired Codes was churning, and she was not having her last chance to defeat him escape her. She tore down Wizard Way in pursuit. Merrin laughed and ran, his scribe’s cloak streaming behind him, his outstretched arms flapping like a demented bird flying toward his flock.
Marcellus raced after Marcia. It was a long time since he had run anywhere and his shoes were not ideal for the job—particularly after their encounter with the Manuscriptorium door. But Marcia’s pointy purple pythons were even less suited to running and he soon caught up with her.
“Marcia . . .” he puffed. “Stop.”
Marcia shook Marcellus’s hand off her arm. “Let go,” she hissed.
Marcellus stood firm. “No. Marcia, don’t you see? The closer you get to that”—he waved his free hand at the advancing Darke Domaine and its outriders—“the more power it gives him and the more it takes from you. Come away before something awful happens.”
“Something awful has happened,” snapped Marcia, setting off in pursuit once more.
Marcellus kept up with difficulty. “It could be worse . . . you still have the Wizard Tower . . . don’t risk it all on a nasty little scribe.”
Marcia stopped. “You don’t understand—he