They abandoned the packhorses, to follow as they could. Anthea had already freed Leonidas, so he just stayed alongside Florian, but Jilly had to stop and untie Buttercup, and Meg and Blossom were moving very slowly.
Or so it seemed to Anthea.
She and Florian were both tired, but they found the strength to race along the track that outlined the village, the same path they had used before, running along behind the cottages and the pigsties and the chicken coops. But this time there was a difference. This time there were people.
There were children hovering in doorways, as though they’d been told to stay inside but wanted to watch. There were women with their sleeves rolled back and their faces flushed despite the cold, with buckets in their hands. There was a pair of elderly men carrying a washtub between them so that they could use their canes.
And every single one of them, when they saw Anthea, pointed toward the manor house. Two little girls in white pinafores daringly leaped out the door of their cottage and cheered, then darted back inside.
Anthea didn’t know what they were cheering about. She could already smell the fire. Looking up through Florian’s ears she saw the smoke billowing over the church, and knew exactly where and why the women and the old men were bringing buckets and washtubs.
The manor was on fire.
Dear Anthea, Leonidas said.
I know, my brave one, come when you can.
Never as strong or as fast as Florian, Leonidas faded back. Out of the corner of her eye she could see Caesar’s nose as he and Jilly caught up.
Leonidas, guard the mares, Anthea ordered. Stay with Buttercup and Blossom and keep them together. Guard the New Meg.
I will.
Then she came around the tall trees of the churchyard, and hauled back on Florian’s reins. The manor wasn’t on fire. The manor was destroyed.
The front of it was simply gone. A gaping hole had been blasted in the beautiful stone façade, and there were flames pouring out of it. The villagers had formed a bucket line and were trying to put out the fire, shouting for more buckets, more washtubs, more water, as two of the men frantically worked the old well at the edge of the garden and another took his turn at the more modern pump near the side of the manor.
And there, streaked black and far too close to the fire for Anthea’s comfort, was Caillin MacRennie. He was shouting orders and tossing water, while the MagTaran stood at his shoulder looking like he’d been stunned by a blow to the head.
Anthea stood in her stirrups.
“Caillin MacRennie!” she screamed.
His head whipped around, but he threw the bucket he’d just emptied to the man next to him without missing a beat.
“Go!” he shouted, and his voice cracked with smoke or emotion. “Go! Follow the trail! Get the boy!”
“Trail?” Anthea shouted back, confused.
“There!” Jilly was pointing to the side.
It wasn’t the kind of trail Anthea was expecting. It was a great torn-up swath of the earth that cut around the side of the manor. The stone wall around the manor garden had been flattened, and the torn-up earth led on and away, toward the far end of the village.
“What did this?” Jilly said.
They had to slow down, not just because the horses could no longer keep running, but because of the treacherous, torn-up ground. Rocks from the wall had been scattered into the muck, and uprooted shrubs as well.
There were tracks in the muck, like the tracks of a motorcar, but not. A continuous trail of strange tire marks, twice as wide as any car, wider than a train, and so heavy that many of the stones had been pushed deep into the hard earth. Anthea thought of the voices she had heard, the ones crying out, What is it?
All she could do was shake her head at Jilly. They had to get to Finn. They had to protect the last King of Leana, the Soon King. The Now King.
That nearly brought her up short. They were traveling with a human princess and mares. Two types of creatures that were cherished and protected in Coronam and Leana.
Leonidas! You must guard the New Meg and the mares! Don’t come with us! Take them to a corner of the manor garden, away from the fire, and wait for Caillin MacRennie to take care of you. Tell Blossom to tell the New Meg that she must stay. It is not safe!
I will.
She passed her decision to Jilly via Caesar, since they had had to go wide around each side of a torn-up tree and she didn’t want to shout. Then Anthea sent her mind searching ahead, looking for Constantine, for Marius, for Finn.
She could not find Constantine, but there was a flicker that she was sure was Marius. She told Florian to reach out to him, to see how far away they were, as they started up the rise toward the standing stones.
One of the stones was gone.
At first Anthea thought it had just been knocked down by whatever had smashed its way through the valley. But when they went to pass through the ring, it was just gone. There was no way a stone of that size could have been pushed so deep into the ground that they couldn’t see some trace of it.
As they passed through the gap left, Anthea realized that there was no ripple. There hadn’t been going into the valley, either, she remembered. The ring of stones had been broken, and that had stolen whatever power it had. It was why she had suddenly heard the voices, asking for help, telling her to run.
But whose voices had they been? Marius and Finn she was sure of. Caillin MacRennie? Constantine? One of the voices had been female, she was almost certain, but there were no mares in the village. One of the village women, then? If they really were all Leanan, full-blooded Leanan, could they all have the Way so strongly?
“Anthea, look!” Jilly pointed ahead of them.
At the same time, they heard Finn’s voice in their ears and Marius’s voice in their heads. They also heard a terrible grinding, crashing sound. And ahead of them they saw Finn, riding Marius flat out, in the wake of a terrible gray metal thing that was ripping apart the forest in front of it.
Florian skidded to a halt, and so did Caesar. Their minds were pure panic, and Anthea didn’t blame them. What was that thing? It was like a motorcar and a train and some sort of iron-sided navy ship all rolled into one.
Shaped like a huge steel box, it had a long gray tube mounted on the top that Anthea was fairly certain was some sort of cannon. She couldn’t see any windows, and had no idea how the machine could see where it was going. Instead of wheels it had big steel treads that rolled over everything in its wake without making a bump.
“Finn, stop!” Anthea screamed. “Come away!”
Marius turned and came back to them, though Finn tugged on the reins and swore. Marius was the one too scared to continue, and Florian and Caesar would not take a single step closer to the iron beast. Finn sagged in the saddle when Marius stopped, lathered and blowing, to face Florian.
“She took Constantine,” Finn said dully.
His face was so pale beneath the streaks of sweat and soot on his cheeks, his hair so thick with dust and ash, that he looked like a photograph and not a real person at all. He yanked on the reins but Marius refused to budge, and he started to dismount.
Afraid that he would try to face down that machine on foot, and be crushed for his efforts, Anthea reached over and grabbed his arm to stop him. He struggled for a moment but then gave up, slumping even lower.
“Who did this? My mother?” she demanded.
“Yes.”
“What is that thing?” Jilly wanted to know.
“They called it a schutzer-something,” Finn said. “I couldn’t quite hear. It all happened so fast.” He blinked rapidly, and sort of leaned toward Anthea. She moved Florian around with her heel and put an arm around Finn.
“Schutzer-something?” Jilly’s ears would have pricked up if she had been a horse. “Were they Kronenhofer?”
“I think so,” Finn said. “Your mother was speaking another language to them, I think it was Kronenhofer. It sounded like it.”
“All right,” Jilly said. “You and Marius are tired, but we need to—”
“She started a plague and a war?” Anthea practically screamed the words.
Marius shied away from her and she almost pulled Finn off his back. She let go of his shoulders so that she could grip her head with both hands. She felt like her skull was about to explode.
“How is this woman a real person?” Anthea ranted. “How is she even real? How is she my mother?”
“I don’t think—” Jilly began in a soothing voice.
“She stole the herd stallion,” Finn interrupted. “And Brutus! And Campanula! And she tried to take Marius, too!”
“Why? Why didn’t she just shoot them?” Jilly’s words made all three horses shift uncomfortably.
“That thing could have done it, too,” Finn said, and they all took an uneasy look over their shoulders. “One shot destroyed the front of the manor and the entire library.”
“I can’t do this,” Anthea said, and her teeth started to chatter. “Jilly, you were wrong … I can’t hear all the horrible things at once.”
“We have to go back,” Jilly said, pointing toward Upper Stonesraugh. “Rest, help, plan.”
“No!” Finn picked up his reins again. “We have to follow them and—”
“And what? Get shot with a cannon?” Jilly shook her head. “Their trail is perfectly clear, but there’s no sense in facing that thing with just some pistols and some tired horses!”
Beloved?
“That’s it,” Anthea said hotly. “I’m making Florian the herd stallion!”
Beloved, I am—
“I am the king!” Finn shouted at her. “We must go after Con now!”
I cannot! Marius wailed.
His knees buckled and he crashed down into the cold, churned mud, throwing Finn off his back. Jilly gasped and Caesar half reared in shock. Rock steady, Florian lifted his head and trumpeted to get their attention.
Beloved! Now King! She Who Is Jilly! Florian cried out in all their minds. There is fighting at the manor house! Someone is stealing the mares and the New Meg!
It cannot be! Caesar cried.
I cannot go on, Marius said.
Leave him, Anthea ordered, though it broke her heart. Finn, get up here.
Finn scrambled to his feet and Anthea kicked out of a stirrup and held out her arm. He put a foot in and grabbed her elbow to swing up behind her, and they were off before she could get her own foot back in the stirrup or pull her coat out from under him, with Jilly right beside them on Caesar.
Anthea could hear Marius crying behind them, and felt her heart break even further, but she couldn’t stop. They had to find out what was happening at the manor.
When they got there, they saw that the fire was nearly out. Which made it easy to see the back door of the enormous van closing on Buttercup’s golden tail, and the crumpled forms of the villagers who had tried to stop the thieves.
Howling with rage, Finn leaped from Florian’s back as the van sped off. But there was nothing any of them could do.