Free Champions Battle for the Fate of the Future!: The Wild Finale of (Swords Versus Tanks Book 5) by M Harold Page

that time…
    The Archbishop twitched against Ranulph's grip
    Ranulph forced himself awake. There would be time to rest later — one way or another.Something was about to happen. He wriggled his toes, coaxing some warmth into his wet feet. He would even out the odds by attacking the Invader’s left flank, putting the soldiers’ bodies between him and Jasmine’s gun. He tensed his legs, then relaxed.
    The broad shouldered woman's gaze flickered down, catching the movement. Her eyes narrowed and she adjusted her aim.
    Ranulph grinned at her and remembered their fierce lovemaking on the airship. But he knew that when he moved, she would be ready. Whatever Maud's scheme was, he could only pray that it was more considered than her occult escapades.
    "Strange," said Maud, her green eyes twinkling uncannily. "Wherever the White Brothers gather knowledge, the magic stops working. It cannot be due to their liberal application of Consecrations, because these fade unless maintained by sincere prayer. For example, the mumblings of bored nuns were not enough to keep me from using my grimoire in a convent — were they, Your Holiness? You remember my grimoire? The one you planted for me to find, so as to gain leverage over my father?" She interrupted herself to breathe.
    Ranulph made little circles with his shoulders. Any moment now.
    "Kill the harlot!" commanded the Archbishop.
    Ranulph's eyes narrowed. Whatever happened, this was one man who would not see another day.
    Jasmine shook her head. "I’d like to know what’s really going on."
    "And, why have a Black Library in the first place?" continued Maud. "No good churchman would want to consult it." She blew on the face of the bookshelf, creating a billow of dust. "And none do. And yet, these books — and a mythical flying ship — all hidden where they cannot work… it seems so similar to the manikin in my invisibility charm, secreted where it cannot be seen."
    "Close your ears, my children!" said the Archbishop. "She ensnares you with enchantment."
    The soldiers exchanged glances.
    "Not on consecrated ground," said Jasmine. "Even I know that much."
    Maud giggled the way she always did before doing something rash. A smile flitted over Ranulph's cold lips. Albrecht had always accused him of having just such a "mad laugh". But, if his acts were invariably foolish, how was it that he had he survived thus far? In truth, he laughed whenever something complicated became as simple as a sword stroke, and because if he did not laugh, he would give way to fear and so fail. Was Maud any different? He would trust her to look after herself.
    "Magic works by metaphor," said Maud. "Burn the manikin and my invisibility spell fails. Burn the library...?"
    "Fuck me," said Jasmine. "This library is what's sitting on the magic."
    Ranulph's temples throbbed. Could it really be so obvious? "That's why he's afraid of fire," he managed.
    The Archbishop raised his head. "Yes. It is this library that keeps Necromancy out of the hands of crazed hedge sorcerers, murderous savages, and every spinster who owns books she should not," he said. He twisted to look over his shoulder at Ranulph. "Is that really such an ignoble purpose, Sir Ranulph?"
    "He's a pompous bastard, but he has a point, Big Guy," said Jasmine, her gun still levelled.
    Ranulph grimaced. He was here to help turn Maud into a proper sorceress, not to usher in a new age of Necromancy. When he made his move, he would hurl the lantern over the heads of the soldiers. If it shattered near the row of doors, the flames might not spread to the books. She could have the magic contained in her selected volumes, but the natural order would survive.
    "Consider also," said Maud, conversationally, "what would happen were some heinous act of desecration to deconsecrate this place."
    Archbishop Grossi yelped, twitched, then sagged to the ground. Maud's dagger projected from the small of his back like a sundial.
    Wooden supports banged on the flagstones and,