Pierre Pevel - By The Alchemist in the Shadows Page 0,61

of debris that were raining down.

His ears ringing, Leprat thought he could hear drakish war cries. Tottering on his feet, he had just realised that he'd managed to keep hold of his pistol when he saw a silhouette outlined in the gaping frame of the doorway. He took a very approximate aim and missed his target by a fraction. The drac rushed him. Still shaken by the explosion, he was late in comprehending what was happening. And he was only starting to draw his rapier when the drac struck.

Too slow to react, the musketeer saw his death rushing towards him . . .

. . . when he heard another loud blast.

Leprat quickly recovered his wits upon seeing the drac's head burst. His face spattered with black blood, he turned to see Danvert armed with a smoking arquebus. Other dracs were pushing their way into the building and Almades had already engaged two of them.

His white rapier clenched in his fist, Leprat dashed forward to lend him a hand.

Kh'Shak had aimed for the head and had scored a hit. But his arm had wavered at the last moment due to the explosion, so that the pistol ball had merely cut deeply into La Fargue's brow as it skidded over the bone, rather than penetrating his brain.

His hat torn away, the Blades' captain reeled. His vision was blurred and his ears rang as blood dripped down into his eyes. He thought he was going to collapse yet, somehow, he remained standing. But the floor seemed to be swaying beneath his feet.

Kh'Shak, still brandishing his smoking pistol, struggled to understand how his adversary could still be alive and on his feet, face bloodied, after receiving a ball in the middle of his forehead. Then he pulled himself together, threw his pistol away and drew his sword as he marched toward La Fargue.

The latter, half-stunned, saw the drac coming as if through a veil. He parried as best he could one, two, three successive attacks with the wild gestures of a drunken man, and attempted a riposte that the other easily countered.

The drac started to play a cruel game with him.

'You're no longer up to this, old man.'

He lunged, bypassing La Fargue's uncertain parry, and plunged the point of his blade into the captain's right shoulder. The old gentleman moaned as he retreated, bringing his hand up to the wound. The keen pain aroused him somewhat from his torpor. But the floor continued to move beneath him and his buzzing temples continued to deafen him.

'You should have hung up your sword long ago.'

Another lunge and this time La Fargue felt two inches of steel penetrate his left thigh. His leg faltered beneath his weight and almost gave way beneath him. He only just succeeded in remaining on his feet. Still retreating, he wiped a sleeve across a brow that was sticky with blood and sweat. He blinked several times. And with an immense effort of will he managed to focus on the blurred silhouette that was tormenting him.

'It's too late for regrets now, old man. Goodbye,' said Kh'Shak, as he prepared to deliver the fatal stroke to his exhausted opponent.

But it was La Fargue who attacked.

Dropping his sword and roaring like a savage beast, he rushed at the drac, grappling with him and shoving him backwards. Wide, massive, and solid, the captain of the Blades was a force of nature despite his age. And as strong and vigorous as he was, the huge drac was unable to halt the old gentleman's momentum. Benefiting from the element of surprise, the man was also powered by an overwhelming rage born of desperation. Kh'Shak felt himself being lifted off the floor. And he realised too late that La Fargue was propelling them both towards the open window.

'You old fool. You're going to—'

His teeth red with blood, La Fargue wore an evil smile of triumph and rancour as they toppled together into empty space.

With Charybdis flying ahead and Scylla right behind him, Alessandra moved away as quickly as possible from La Renardiere and into the surrounding forest. After stunning her chambermaid and stealing the key to the small hidden door, she had descended a damp, narrow stairway. Then, taking advantage of the confusion that reigned at the hunting lodge, she had discreetly made her escape.

Scylla gave a raucous cry: they had arrived.

And, indeed, La Donna soon saw the clearing ahead of her where Aubusson, her friend and accomplice, was waiting with (wo horses he had hired that day