The Devil's Looking-Glass (35 page)

After what felt like an eternity, the flow eased. The narrow gorge gave way to low, tree-lined banks as the river broadened. With the last of his strength, Will crawled towards the shallows, stumbling out of the lapping black water to crash down on the muddy bank. As he heaved in great lungfuls of air, the thunder of his heart subsided and the realization of his grim situation settled on him. He shook his head and tried to drive that last sight of Grace’s dread-infused face from his thoughts, but it lingered, haunting him. The cries of his companions still rang in his ears
too
, and he felt a deep guilt that he had brought them all to this terrible point. But then he shook his head and sat up. Nothing would be gained from wallowing in self-pity. Rescue or revenge, those were the twin paths that lay ahead of him now.

Soaked to the skin, he rose on shaking legs and checked he still had his dagger and his rapier, and that the velvet-wrapped mirror was still safe in his pouch. Once he had recovered, he forged on into the trees.

The sun was slipping past its highest point by the time he had followed the course of the river back to where the Unseelie Court had mounted their attack. He cocked his head, listening for any sound of the others, but heard no human voice. Stealth was the only way to proceed, however long it took. He would not make Strangewayes’ mistake. His eyes grew accustomed to the strange world of leaf and moss, slanting sunbeams and whirling insects, and whenever he encountered any misshapen tree or hummock that might hide one of the subsumed people he gave it a wide berth. There in the glade he saw signs of struggle, the odd spatter of blood, but no worse. That meant there was still hope, he told himself, though a part of him feared the opposite.

Will ignored the growling of his stomach; it had been almost a day since he had gnawed on the last of the ship’s biscuit. He pushed and hacked his way through trailing vines and thorny bushes in the direction of the Unseelie Court’s Fortress Crepuscule.

For the rest of the day, he weaved through the thick forest, occasionally pausing to clamber up the soaring trees to get his bearings. The gold caps on the black basalt towers were like beacons, drawing him inexorably towards them. It was as shadow slid into dips and hollows, and the bloated red sun settled down on the horizon, that he reached his destination.

He felt a chill as he crept to the treeline and looked down the slope into a hollow where the massive fortress stood. The Unseelie Court’s dwelling place dwarfed any he had seen, even the Escorial of Philip of Spain. Towering black walls enclosed a lake of shimmering gold covering every roof and dome of the
castle
buildings. In the ruddy light, it glowed like fire. Along the battlements, nothing moved. Will scanned the walls, frowning. When it came to the Unseelie Court, human eyes could never be trusted, and he suspected unseen sentinels would be looking out over the surrounding forest.

As Will gathered his thoughts a low groan disturbed the eerie silence. The main gate – the height of six men – ground slowly open and a column of figures moved out into the fading light. At the front was a Fay on a black stallion, his head raised as he surveyed the darkening forest with slit eyes. He wore a silver helm and armour with whorls etched on it in black filigree, and in his right hand he held upright a silver-tipped spear. Behind him marched a raiding party of around twenty armoured Fay, bristling with swords and axes. Flanked by four others holding sizzling torches aloft, the column moved across the cobbles and on to the broad path leading into the forest. The gate shuddered shut.

A search party?
Could any of the others yet live? However powerful the Fay were, they still could not see or know all. Perhaps one man could creep under their noses like a spider entering the Queen’s bedchamber.

Once darkness had fallen, Will left his hiding place and crawled down the incline among the thick, spiky-leaved bushes. Around the fortress perimeter he crept, until the full moon cast long shadows over silvered ground. The rear wall was cut off by a dense barrier of thorny bushes. When he tossed a stone over the top, but never heard it fall, he guessed the fortress sat on the edge of a sheer drop. His heart sank as he concluded there was no obvious way to steal inside, no drainage tunnels, no sluices, no handholds on the soaring glass-smooth walls. Returning to the main entrance of the colossal fortress, he sank into the shadows at the foot of the wall and pondered his options. Determination gripped him; he would not be defeated.

Barely had the thought crossed his mind when he caught sight of a lone figure stumbling along the road out of the forest dark. No Fay this, Will saw from the rolling gait, but he still felt
shocked
when the moonlight revealed Strangewayes. The young spy looked broken, shambling like a man in his cups, his head bowed, his shirt torn, his face streaked with dirt and blood.

Will wondered if the torment of what he had done had driven him mad. Why else would he be stumbling up to the gates of Hell, alone and unarmed? Will pressed himself against the wall, which felt icy against his skin despite the heat, ready to drag Strangewayes off the path when he neared. But a stone’s throw from the vast door the younger man shuffled to a halt and raised his head, looking up at the dizzying height of the imposing edifice. Before Will could move, he shook his fist at the fortress and roared in a cracking voice, ‘Give her back to me.’

Will stiffened; it was too late now.

‘You cannot have her,’ Strangewayes raged. Spittle flew from his mouth. ‘Take me instead. I deserve to die. But set her free, I beg of you.’

With a resonant rumble, the gate began to grind open once more.

Strangewayes, you fool
, Will thought.
You have ordered your own death – or something far, far worse
. If he tried to save the other man, he knew his own life would be forfeit. Then what of Jenny, and what of revenge for whatever had happened to the others? Sickened by his powerlessness, Will could only watch as the younger spy peered into the black maw of the gates. After a moment, the blood drained from his face, but he didn’t run and Will admired him for that.

Two figures walked out, their faces obscured by shadow despite the moonlight. Guards, Will guessed, dressed in out-of-time grey bucklers and breeches. Their too-pale hands rested on the sculpted silver hilts of their swords.

‘I am not afraid of you,’ Strangewayes shouted, his voice cracking with fear. ‘Take me . . . to Grace.’

Will’s hand hovered over the hilt of his own blade. His every instinct told him to rush to Strangewayes’ aid, but he forced himself to hold back: this was his moment. Sneaking along the wall
while
the guards were occupied, he slipped round the door and darted into the dark interior. Yet as the shadows swallowed him, for all Strangewayes’ folly, he couldn’t help but feel guilt that he had turned his back on a companion . . . and so consigned him to death.

CHAPTER FORTY-EIGHT

BLOOD DRIPPED FROM
will’s nose as he stepped from the grim darkness of the gateway into a soft glow. He felt shock at the stark transition, as if he had stumbled into a half-remembered dream. Gold sheathed the walls of soaring halls, gleamed off statues of slender figures with severe features, and glittered in the swirls and knots of finely wrought screens and porticos. Along paved walkways running between the jumble of buildings torches hissed and spat, bathing the entire scene in a rippling, flickering light. Drifting from the windows and doorways came the delirious whirl of fiddle and pipe, and when Will inhaled, the heady scent of sweet honeysuckle swaddled him. He felt light-headed at such a rush of sensations.

For a moment, the spy marvelled at this magical world. Slowly, though, the brooding sense of menace that lay behind the glitter began to envelop him like an encroaching tide. He must never forget that whatever charm and beauty danced before his eyes he was in Hell, and no man could survive here for long. He shook himself and tensed, every sense afire for a sign of threat. Drawing his sword, he padded along the pathway to his left, seeking out
every
pool of shadow as he slipped from doorway to doorway. He looked up the vertiginous walls and wondered once more at the vastness of the Unseelie Court’s home. How could he expect to find Jenny before the devils found him and tore him limb from limb?

Yet he refused to be daunted. He eased open the nearest door and slipped inside. In the hallway of gold and stone, the music throbbed so loudly that his ears rang. Now he heard a frenzied edge to the jig that spoke of madness. Buried behind it rumbled a low pulse that reminded him of the pounding of a blacksmith’s hammers. He traced his fingers down the cool wall and felt the vibrations running through the stone, seemingly rising up from deep underneath the castle. An oppressive heat seethed through the building as if mighty forges were being stoked under the floor.

Crossing the entrance hall to the next door, he opened it a crack, taking care that he would not be seen. He peered into a great hall, lit only by the ruddy glow of a fire. Long tables creaked under platters of meats and pies and bread, silver goblets and wooden flasks, and tall jugs of drink. Around the trestles, the Fay were at play. They whirled around to the wild music of the fiddler and pipe player, or tore at meat and swigged down mouthfuls of wine, the red liquid spilling down their chins. Others fornicated in full view, the women sprawled on their backs on the tables or on all fours, while the men thrust into them.

Will pulled the door shut with great care, his head swimming from the sights, sounds and smells. Once back on the pathway, he sucked in a deep breath, feeling as if he had spent a night drinking in the Mermaid. He could now feel the dull, deep rumble everywhere he went. It ran up through his legs and into the pit of his stomach. He forced himself to move further into the heart of the castle, though every sense rebelled. After a while, he began to feel that all he saw was illusion, created by his own wits to hide the true madness and rot that lay behind it. Was that a keep, or a hellish pit where foul things writhed? If the walls
were
really gold, why did he keep smelling the reek of spoiled meat when he brushed by? The world he remembered back in England receded into the depths of his mind, and that sickening place became the only thing he knew, as if he had always lived there and always would. And the music roiled wherever he went until he could no longer trust his own thoughts.

In one chamber he found a strange creature like a shaven ape throwing dice on a long table. When he entered, it stared at him with golden eyes that contained an unsettling intelligence and then proceeded to mimic every movement he made as if it were his mirror image. In another chamber, ten pendulums as long as a ship’s mast swung from the high, vaulted ceiling. In the gloom, Will could just discern on each one a long-beaked figure, seemingly asleep, strapped upside down, hands crossed on its chest. As he moved deeper into the fortress, the sense of being part of a troubling dream swallowed him whole and he had to fight to keep his hold on his purpose there. How easy would it be to give himself up wholly to these wonders and mysteries?

Again and again, as he made his way through the fortress, Will had to duck into doorways to avoid the Fay themselves as they moved silently through their realm. The air of corruption heavy around them, males and females walked side by side like courting couples, heads bowed yet occasionally glancing at each other as if they communicated without words. Some Fay passed on horseback, their silvery cloaks and helms suggesting a higher status. Occasionally, their heads would turn, their eyes wide and staring as if they could see him in his hiding place, but they rode on without a sound.

It was as if time had no meaning there. It felt as if the walls, the paths, the vast hallways, went on for ever. Will paused and leaned back against a golden wall. Though Dee’s warning still rang in his mind, he found himself reaching into the pouch that rested on his hip. After a moment fighting with his conscience, he pulled out the obsidian mirror. Even knowing all of the Unseelie Court could swoop down upon him in an instant, he was so lost that he
felt
he had no choice but to use the looking glass if he were to find Jenny.

As he hunched over the mirror, the mist in the glass cleared and Jenny appeared. Her face looked uncommonly pale in the gloom, and though she gave a faint smile when she saw him her brow was furrowed. Despite the dangers, Will was overjoyed to see her. He could scarcely believe he was so close now after so many years of wondering whether they would ever meet again.

‘Where are you?’ she asked, squinting. He knew she could see the gleaming gold on the halls around him. ‘Will,’ she exclaimed, her eyes widening. ‘I told you not to come.’

‘That conversation has long since sailed, Jenny,’ he replied, his eyes scanning his surroundings. Would he even hear a footstep when they came for him? ‘Quickly now, tell me where I can find you, afore I feel a dagger at my neck.’

She hesitated for an instant, then said, ‘The highest hall is always lit by moonlight. Turn to the left once you enter and climb the steps. On the third floor, behind the third door, you will find me.’ She flashed the smile that he remembered so well and then whispered, ‘Take care, my love.’

Will felt his heart swell. So close now, so close. He darted ahead, looking up the towering walls every time he reached a courtyard. At the centre of the fortress, the highest hall was indeed silvery with moonlight, the shadow of every grotesque carving stark on the upper reaches. With each step, it loomed ever closer.

His heart pounded fit to burst. If the Fay discovered him when he was so near to the prize he had desired for so long, he thought his spirit would be broken for ever. Silently, he prayed that his enemies would continue to search beyond the fortress walls, but he knew the time must surely be near when they would turn their cruel eyes towards the dark streets of their home. When he reached an arched doorway at the base of the highest hall, he finally sucked in a deep draught of hot, fragrant air. His head was spinning with the rush of conflicting emotions. All he wanted now was to feel Jenny in his embrace. Steeling himself, he eased
open
the heavy gold and jet door and stepped into searing heat. The deep rumble of hammers rang through the walls louder still, reverberating in the pit of his stomach.