The Shadow of Malabron (32 page)

He was trapped.

F
INN AND FREYA CAME TO A PLACE
where the tunnel they had been searching branched into three. Three tunnels that were alike in every way: dark, cold, and foul-smelling. They had split up from Pendrake, Rowen and Shade in order to search more of the sewers in a shorter time.

“We could use Shade’s nose at the moment,” Finn said, peering into the gloom ahead. “Do these tunnels go on for ever?”

“We have lived in Skald for a very long time,” Freya said. “Our people built deep into the rock. It’s where the very young and the old take refuge when invaders come. And they’ve come many times. This time, they’re already inside.”

“If the Errantry had known about this, we would have helped.”

“A band of knights-errant did come to Skald once, not long after the League took power. They came as friends, but the mages told us that you Wayfarers were like everyone else. You really wanted the city for yourselves. And many people believed them.”

“Did you?”

“I’d met Father Nicholas. I knew what a friend was.”

“I’ve heard your people built Skald after your homeland in the north was lost to the Night King. I don’t know the whole story.”

Freya smiled bitterly.

“The story is no longer
whole
. We are all that’s left. And that is why we find it hard to trust strangers. And also maybe why we were so easily fooled by those who promised to make us strong. But I’d rather not speak of these things, not in this place. Once we’ve found your friend, there will be time for tales.”

Finn nodded. He was about to suggest they take the middle tunnel and hope for the best, when they heard voices. Someone was coming up the tunnel behind them. Finn and Freya quickly moved into the shadow of a recess in the wall beside them and waited. The voices grew louder.

“I really think we should go back and get that apple,” one was whining. “It was so juicy-looking.”

“I’ll shove that apple in your gob and roast you on a spit if you don’t keep quiet,” hissed another, nastier voice. “The slimestone said there were others with the boy. Do you want them to find us?”

Finn and Freya exchanged a quick, decisive look. They stepped out of the shadows and into the path of the two hogmen, who stumbled to a halt and stared at them with fearful, blinking eyes.

“Too late,” Finn said, drawing his sword.

“Where is the boy?” Freya said, brandishing her hammer.

Hodge’s lip began to twitch. Flitch stepped back slowly, his eyes narrow and hard.

“What boy?” he said. “We know nothing about any boy. We’re just passing through this city on our way to—”

“Where is he?” Finn shouted, as Freya slipped behind the hogmen to cut off their escape.

“We didn’t hurt Sir William, honestly,” Hodge blubbered. “We took him, yes we did, we won’t deny it, but it was because we knew he was a great champion looking to challenge us, you see, and we … we … we thought we’d make it interesting for him, sort of surprise him, don’t you see. He said I was the one to beat. He really did. Are you the Seven Mighty Companions? I mean, two of them?”

“What in the Thunderer’s name is he blathering about?” Freya growled.

Finn grinned. “I think Will has learned a few tricks from Master Pendrake.”

He thrust the tip of his sword under Hodge’s glistening snout.

“
Where is he?
”

“He went up one of the drains,” Flitch snarled, casting a murderous look at his brother. “One that leads to the keep. That’s probably where he is. We haven’t seen him since. Try the keep, if you have the courage.”

“How do we get there from here?”

“There’s a staircase down one of those tunnels,” Flitch said, pointing.

“Show us.”

“Oh, please, mighty friends of Sir William,” Hodge whimpered. “We hogmen don’t do well at all in places like that. Show a little pity, for pity’s sake. We’re just two starving homeless harmless fellows. We don’t want any trouble.”

“Will’s not the first person to go missing in these tunnels,” Freya said. “There are plenty of folk up above who would like to ask you about that. If you’d rather we took you to see them…”

“We’ll show you how to get to the keep,” Flitch muttered.

The creature of fire was climbing the steps now. Will threw himself against the door and hammered on it. There was nowhere else to go.

At the top of the stairs the creature of fire halted. Its face dissolved and became another, an entirely different face, and then another, as if a multitude of beings were struggling to take form, to persist against the ever-changing ripple and weave of the flames. Finally one face appeared and did not melt away, that of a gaunt, bearded man. There was a look of pain or struggle in his eyes, as though he was fighting to keep himself from vanishing into the fire like all the other faces. He gazed at Will with a beseeching expression. His mouth opened soundlessly.

“What is it?” Will whispered. “Who are you?”

The creature of fire moved closer, and held out its arms towards Will.

“From the Untold…” it gasped in a voice like dry twigs catching flame. “The emissary seeks you…”

Just then there was a clang of metal, and with a shriek of rusty hinges the door crashed open. Freya rushed in, wielding her hammer, with Finn close behind, his sword drawn.

“Look out!” Will shouted. Before they could react, the creature of fire collapsed in on itself like a burning cloak that had been dropped, then flowed swiftly over and down the sheer side of the stairs. Once it touched the floor it split once again into many separate flames which slithered into the furthest corners of the room.

“What is that thing?” Freya whispered.

Before Will could answer, there was a shout from below. They looked down to see Shade climbing out of the shaft, with Rowen and her grandfather close behind him. The wolf bounded up the stairs and Will threw his arms round him.

“Are you hurt, Will Lightfoot?” Shade asked.

“No,” Will said shakily. “I don’t think so. Thank you for finding me. I thought I was finished.”

They quickly descended the steps to where Pendrake and Rowen stood. Will saw with alarm that Rowen’s face was paler than he had ever seen it. She was leaning on her grandfather’s arm. When she saw Will looking at her she gave him a brave smile.

“The creature is still in the room, I think,” Finn said. “Is it the dweller in the keep?”

“Perhaps,” Pendrake said. “I think we can find out for certain. Everyone stand back.”

Freya gently guided Rowen away from the toymaker. He stepped forward and in a loud, commanding voice spoke a few words that Will did not understand. After a few moments rivulets of werefire flowed together from several corners of the room, brightening as they merged. The fiery figure rose again, this time larger and roaring even louder than it had before. From its outstretched hands dripped gouts of green flame. Will and the others drew back, but the toymaker did not move as the fire blazed around him.

In the next instant the werefire creature had diminished again to its former size and made a dash for the trapdoor.

Pendrake spoke again and the creature stopped dead and began to tremble and seethe like a flame caught in a gust of wind. The toymaker took a step closer to it and held out his hand. At the same time he struck the floor with his staff. There was a thunderous crack and the room shook under Will’s feet. The werefire whirled up into the air in a frenzied spiral, leaving behind a dark figure that sank down, reaching out to the loremaster a trembling hand. Pendrake took it and eased the dark figure to the floor. At the same time a seething, crackling wreath of flames rose to the roof beams. The other, smaller fires raced and leapt from every corner of the room to join it.

Pendrake straightened and held out his staff. Like a bolt of lightning the werefire stabbed towards it. For an instant the room blazed with light as a roaring emerald column plunged through the staff and vanished into the floor.

Silence descended. The fire was gone and the room was dark, save for a dim ghostly afterglow that seemed to come from the places where the flames had been. Pendrake leant wearily on his staff, passed a hand over his brow, then gazed with the others at what lay huddled on the floor before them.

It was a man with a grizzled beard and long, unkempt hair, shivering in the torn and filthy remains of a belted robe. He was pale and gaunt, little more than skin and bone. His eyes stared vacantly past Will and his friends, as if he could not see them.

“Who is he, Grandfather?” Rowen asked. She was still very pale, but some of her old energy had returned to her voice.

“I have no idea.”

“I do,” Freya said, her face clouding with anger. “This is the mage Strigon, of the League of Four. Has he been hiding here all this time?”

“He was your dweller in the keep,” Pendrake said. “And the source of the werefire.”

“How can that be?” Freya said. “It should have destroyed him.”

“The fathomless fire does not kill. Its source is a power that sustains life. It was keeping Strigon alive, even as it was surely driving him into madness.”

Pendrake crouched before the mage and gently put a hand on his shoulder.

“Can you hear me?” he asked. “Do you know where you are?” After a long moment the mage stirred, looked up at Pendrake and nodded slowly. He opened his mouth and seemed to be struggling to speak.

“We…” he said at last, in a voice that was little more than a breathless gasp. “We … have done a terrible thing.”

“What have you done?”

“We were searching for one of the lost farholds. The wishing portals. It was not there, and then it was there… A gateless gate. It began to close. We summoned the werefire to keep it open, but we could not control it. The fire leapt out like a wild beast. It came for me… It…”

The mage’s eyes widened and he raised his hand as if to ward off something only he could see.

“Where is this gate?” Pendrake asked.

Strigon shook his head.

“I won’t go back there,” he whispered feverishly. “Not even if the emissary commands it … I won’t.”

“Who was this emissary?”

“He did not say, but we knew… We knew who sent him but we met him anyway… He wanted us to search for … a new thread in the Kantar. A disturbance. Something his master was seeking. He said the city would be spared if we aided him, and we would be given much power…” The mage began to tremble violently again, and his head sank. “Now all is lost…”

“Listen to me, Master Strigon,” Pendrake said. “It is not too late to undo some of what you have done. This city can still be saved, and many others besides, if we do not give in to despair. Tell me, where did you find the wishing portal?”

The mage shuddered and clutched Pendrake’s arm like a drowning swimmer.

“High in the mountains… The Needle’s Eye … we found a secret path leading up … to a hidden vale… When the fire took me the others fled back to the city… I followed, but they did not know me. I could not speak, could not tell them… They drove me into the dungeons. They left me to burn.”

The mage looked away from Pendrake and for the first time he seemed to be aware of the others gathered round him. His gaze darted wildly from face to face and then settled on Will. His eyes stared in fear and he tried to rise but Pendrake held him back.

“You are from the Untold,” he rasped at Will. “It must be you. He will be coming for you…”

His eyes rolled up in his head and he fell forward into Pendrake’s arms.

“Is he dead?” Freya asked.

“No, but he is exhausted and he may yet die,” Pendrake said. “The fire unnaturally sustained his life, but I doubt he has eaten or slept since this all began. He must be cared for, and nursed back to health.”

“Why should we do that for him?” Freya muttered angrily, her eyes narrowing.

“If he recovers he can help you restore this city to what it once was. He has power and knowledge that can be used for good.”

Freya glared down at the mage, then sighed and nodded.

“You’re right, Father Nicholas. He should be given the chance to make amends. It is what Mother and Father often say. If all we have in our hearts is hate, then what are we fighting to save?”

Finn and Freya picked up the insensible mage, and together the companions climbed from the dungeon to the upper floors of the keep. As they made their way through a series of lightless, winding corridors, Will told the story of what had happened to him and how he had escaped the Marrowbone brothers by challenging them to mortal combat. He didn’t mention what he had seen when he crawled through the werefire. The fantasy his mind had cooked up seemed too embarrassing to admit.

“Clever,” Pendrake said with a wink, when Will told how he’d tricked the hogmen.

“We met the brothers, Will,” Finn said. “It turned out they weren’t interested in mortal combat after all.”

“They will soon have no choice,” Freya said.

Now that the werefire was dying down, Shade’s senses were keen again and he led them quickly to a long, highceilinged chamber that Freya said was the main hall. There were narrow windows here, letting in thin shafts of daylight, by which Will could make out humped shapes upon the floor. A closer look revealed them to be tapestries that had apparently hung from the walls and were now torn down. There were fragments of glass and masonry scattered everywhere, and gouges in the stone floor, as if something very large had clawed its way across the room in a rage.