The Devil's Looking-Glass (33 page)

Will rested on the rail, not meeting her eyes. All she said was true, he knew, but he had reached the stage where no gamble was too great.

The Irish woman smiled to soften her words. ‘I care little. John and Robert too, I feel, and even young Grace. We are with you
in
this and do not mind your . . .’ she fluttered a hand while she searched for a word that carried no poison, ‘insensitivities.’

‘Insensitivities.’ He nodded, smiling wryly.

‘But all men can be pushed too far, and you must remember who your friends are,’ she continued. ‘They will walk through fire, if you would but ask them.’ A shadow crossed her face as she leaned against the rail, watching the waves. ‘This long war kills us all by degrees. We begin as good and decent but gradually edge away from the light, so slowly we barely notice, until one day we look up and we are surrounded by night. Do not let that happen to you, my sweet.’

Before he could respond, she turned and walked towards the forecastle. But after a few steps she paused as if she had recalled something vital, and then turned back, her expression sad. ‘You have more faith than any priest,’ she said, ‘more hope than I could ever have, but think, Will, what has happened to every soul ever taken by the Unseelie Court?’ He showed her his back, not wanting to hear, but she continued. ‘Men lured under hill by the sound of fiddle and pipe, only to crumble to dust upon their return to the daylight world. Knights and dancing maidens turned into stone. Others twisted into straw men, or bound by unbreakable briar, or dissolved into water. You must ask yourself how many have survived contact with the Unseelie Court.’

None, he knew. None, damn her.

‘You must prepare yourself,’ she said quietly. ‘I do not wish to be cruel, but I would not see your heart broken when we reach our destination. Do not hope too much.’ And with that, she walked away.

Two more days had passed when the lookout bellowed that land had been sighted. Soon gulls were wheeling across the blue sky, their hungry calls filling every heart with relief that the days of endless blue had passed. A line of green smudged the horizon. In the cabin, Will and Sanburne pored over the pirate captain’s charts and the one that Courtenay had given to them, which showed all that was known of the New World coast. Will thought back to
everything
he had gleaned from the Faerie Queen of her distant home that night so long ago in the Lantern Tower. Legends of the Unseelie Court’s bastion had circulated since the first European had set foot upon that mysterious land. The City of Gold. Manoa. The Fortress Crepuscule. The home of all wonders and terrors.

The chart showed a river system reaching out from the dark interior like a skeletal hand. From his discussions with Raleigh, Will knew some of the tributaries had been partially explored, but the land was wild and inaccessible, heavily forested and filled with villages of brown-skinned people who hated strangers after so much of their blood had been spilled by the Spanish over the years. Sanburne traced one dirty-nailed finger along the main river. ‘Then we take the Orinoco to here, and then the Caroni?’ he said. ‘The river is navigable for a ship of this size?’

‘So I am told.’

‘And then?’

‘Then, Captain Sanburne, your passengers will be set ashore and you may depart this devil-haunted land and anchor offshore where we now sail. Should we survive, we will find a way back to you.’

‘And how long should we wait?’ Sanburne said in a dismissive tone that suggested he did not expect any survivors.

‘Take on fresh water and sit here for no more than two weeks. And if you come under attack from the Unseelie Court, leave immediately.’

Sanburne nodded, hiding his apprehension. Nor did he show any sign of fear to his men as he ordered them to steer the galleon into the mouth of the wide river; a brave man, as were all of them, to risk so much in the service of the Queen, Will noted. He joined Carpenter, Launceston, Strangewayes, Meg and Grace at the rail, where they watched the nearing land with some trepidation. Hardened by the long struggle, they had become adept at putting on brave faces, but here, so close to the source of their worst fears, they could no longer hide the truth in their hearts. Only Grace held her chin up as she studied the verdant
line
with an unflinching gaze. Will understood her hope – that whatever waited there was better by far than the endless hell of not-knowing that she had lived through for so long. As if she could read his thoughts, she suddenly turned towards him. Their gaze locked in shared understanding. She smiled and nodded.

‘Is this our world or the Unseelie Court’s world, or something of both?’ Launceston asked.

Carpenter rubbed at the scar under his lank hair. ‘That is the damnable thing about those foul creatures,’ he growled, his eyes darting. ‘They play so well with illusion that nothing can be trusted. One moment you think you are on solid ground, the next you are sucked down into the bottomless bog.’

‘We travel into the very heart of madness and death,’ Strangewayes muttered, crossing himself. ‘God save our souls.’

As the
Corneille Noire
entered the river mouth, the dense forest loomed up, a blanket of green stretching towards purple, mist-shrouded mountains far to the south. In the sweltering heat, stillness lay across the wild country. For all they could see, no human had ever walked there, nor within a thousand miles. They felt alone. Unfamiliar birdsong echoed all around, whooping cries and staccato clicks, punctuated by the low roar of some wild creature that sent shrieking rainbow flocks swelling into the blue sky. River dolphins stitched the shimmering water alongside the hull, and what they had perceived to be a log slipped off the muddy bank with a yawn of a wide mouth revealing rows of ferocious teeth.

‘Paradise, the first explorers called this place,’ Will remarked as he surveyed the lush countryside.

‘Hell, more like,’ Carpenter muttered. ‘Give me the Mermaid and a cup of sack any day. That is my paradise.’

As the galleon sailed on along the twisting river, the stifling forest closed around them and the sea and the freedom it promised fell away from view. Though they kept to the centre of the channel, Sanburne plumbed the depths regularly, afraid that his ship might become beached. As the day drew on, the mood of
unease
became more oppressive. Silence enveloped the deck, all eyes flitting towards the trees. When night fell, the captain ordered that the anchor be lowered and no naked light be allowed on deck. The watch changed every hour so no lookout had the time to be lulled to the edge of sleep by the gentle lapping of the river and the breeze through the swaying branches. In the choking heat of the berth, the light of a single candle flickered across Sanburne’s grim face as he told them, ‘We are at war. Let no man lower his guard. Our Enemy could come at any time.’

At first light, they raised anchor and set sail once more. Will watched the tree-lined banks press closer with each turn of the river. When the narrow Caroni river appeared in the wall of vegetation, the birdsong died away and the wind dropped. The water frothing around the ship’s hull looked almost black. Climbing up to the forecastle, he searched for the landmarks the Faerie Queen had shown him. When he glimpsed a familiar range of hills rising up above the treetops, he felt a chill. Here was the stuff of nightmares, the haunted realm of the Unseelie Court.

He waved a hand to Sanburne, who ordered the anchor to be dropped. ‘We continue the rest of our journey on foot,’ he said when the other spies had gathered around him by the mainmast. He added wryly, ‘Will it not be good to stretch our legs after so long on ship?’ Only Meg and Grace smiled. They had dressed for the hard trek to come, and were wearing rough woollen kirtles of the kind a country girl might own, with the sleeves of their chemises rolled up.

The longboat was loaded with a small sack of ship’s biscuit and skins of water attached to twin staffs for ease of transport. Within the hour, the four men and two women had said their goodbyes and stood on the bank watching the
Corneille Noire
sail out of view round the bend in the river.

After a moment Will turned and strode into the dark among the trees. There was no going back.

CHAPTER FORTY-FIVE

FOUR BLACK BASALT
towers punched through the sea of green. Blades of light stabbed out from the gold roofs, each one burning like the sun. As he pressed aside the thin curtain of leaves, Will shielded his eyes against the glare. The narrow branch bounced and shook under his feet and threatened to hurl him down the dizzying drop to the forest floor far below. Steadying himself, he screwed up his nose at the bitter taste of sulphur on the wind, but though he strained he could hear no sounds echoing from the fortress. Truly, it seemed a city of the dead.

He let his gaze run down those grim towers, noting the proliferation of grotesque carvings silhouetted against the silver sky, and the bands of gleaming gold encircling each column at regular intervals. He saw echoes there of the Pillars of Medea, those towering columns through which they had sailed to reach this mysterious place. Surely there could be no doubt that this was the Unseelie Court’s fortress? He felt a seething power radiate from it, prickling the skin on his bare forearms into gooseflesh. His nose began to bleed.

Will bowed his head, peering through the branches to where
the
others waited below. He felt proud of the way they had coped with the hardships he had thrown in front of them. The trek from the river had been harder than any of them had anticipated. Under the forest canopy, the heat sweltered like a baker’s oven. Over tangled roots they scrambled, sweat stinging their eyes and plastering their clothes to their bodies. Buzzing insects with wingspans as large as their hands hunted for exposed skin to bite and draw blood. No amount of water seemed to ease their thirst. Yet tempers had not frayed. As they struggled steadily uphill from the river, hands never strayed far from weapons and eyes continually searched the green world all around. Will had seen the strain in every face and had marvelled that he could not hear the throb of their hearts.

While they had rested, Carpenter had sidled alongside him and whispered, ‘When will you reveal your plan?’ With a reassuring smile, he had replied, ‘In good time.’ The response seemed to satisfy the other man, at least temporarily, but Will knew that soon the questions would become more pointed. What could he say? That he needed them to help him survive the forest trek, but then he planned to abandon them and sneak into the fortress alone? They would never let him go. Yet for all that he had manipulated them to his own ends, it was time for him to stop risking their necks, and once inside that merciless fortress there was little chance of emerging alive. It was his burden alone, his misery and suffering, his one chance of redemption.

Edging back along the branch, he swung down the towering trunk and dropped the final few feet to the mossy ground with feline grace. ‘We should be there by dusk,’ he said. ‘Steel yourselves.’

Launceston’s whistle rolled out of the undergrowth. The others darted through the trees to where the Earl waited on the edge of a clearing. Sallow-faced and seemingly unruffled by the heat, he waited by a broad-trunked tree, immobile. His eyes flickered towards them and then he nodded towards the clearing.

Dropping to his haunches, Will crept forward. The aristocrat
had
been scouting ahead for signs of the routes the Enemy took through the forest. What seemed to be a village stood on the other side of the clearing, ten or so log dwellings on stilts beside a creek. Several hide-covered boats had been dragged up the bank. Nothing moved. Will sniffed the air, but could smell no smoke from cooking fires. He had heard tales of the forest folk who, armed with bows and arrows, moved like ghosts among the trees. He gestured left and right. Drawing their daggers, Carpenter and Strangewayes loped in opposite directions round the clearing, then hunched down behind trees and watched and waited.

Long moments passed. Will spied no hint of movement, nor heard any sign of life. The inhabitants of the village could have overheard their approach and be waiting to strike, he knew. But he noted the straggly, unbroken grass around the wooden buildings and the holes in the boats where the hide had rotted, and he chopped his arm forward. The spies edged into the clearing, eyes flashing all around. When no arrows struck Will felt the tightness in his chest ease.

Launceston ghosted to the nearest house, slipping inside with his dagger raised. He moved on to the next, and the one after, and returned, sheathing his blade. ‘Long since deserted,’ he said, with a shrug. ‘Rats as big as cats in there, and spider-webs trailing from every corner.’

‘If all you have told me about the Unseelie Court is true, surely they would never tolerate any human village within their purview,’ Grace said, showing not a trace of fear. Will felt proud of her.

The Earl grunted. ‘I still cannot tell if I am in their world or our own.’

‘Wherever we are, it is our world, because we make it so.’ Meg strode past the men, tossing her red hair. ‘Are we to stand here gossiping like maids, when there is work to be done?’ Grace followed her.

‘Gentlemen, we are put to shame,’ Will said with a sweep of his arm.

Carpenter bowed his head and followed, muttering, ‘Will they jump in our graves afore us too?’

In single file with Meg at the head, they made their way across the clearing and past the silent houses. As they reached the treeline on the other side, Will frowned. Something had made the hairs on his neck prickle, though he could not tell what. He called for the others to stop and turned slowly in an arc, scrutinizing everything that fell before his eyes. A faint movement on the trunk of a golden-leafed tree gripped him. Still unsure what he was seeing, he felt the hairs on his neck prick erect as he eased past the others to investigate.

White eyes blinked in the brown bark.

Carpenter and Strangewayes leapt back in shock, daggers at the ready. A figure was submerged in the trunk, a man, with brown skin, a broad nose and black hair. Will thought he looked as if the tree had grown around him, so that it was impossible to tell where flesh ended and wood began. And yet he was still alive. The eyes blinked again, and as the lips twitched a dark hole appeared where the mouth would have been.