"Hold everything," said Hawk, leaning forward. Lament raised an eyebrow at being interrupted, but Hawk pressed on. "Are you talking about reinverting the Cathedral? Make it rise up instead of down?"
"Essentially, yes."
"Can I just point out that this Cathedral is right in the middle of the Castle? If it suddenly goes shooting up instead of down, what is that going to do to the surrounding structures? There are whole floors above it!"
"I don't know what will happen," said Lament. "It isn't important. God's will must be done."
"People could die!"
"People die all the time," said the Walking Man. "How many will die if the Blue Moon returns and the long night establishes itself in the world again? I have no wish to see the innocent harmed, but I will do what I must to prevent the triumph of the dark."
"All right," said Hawk, just a little heavily. "Let's try this from a slightly different angle. What exactly is it that you're going to do inside the Inverted Cathedral that will cleanse and reclaim it?"
"I don't know yet," said Lament. "All I have been told is to enter the Cathedral and then proceed as my voice and my experience suggest."
"You're not much of a one for forward planning, are you?" asked Fisher.
"With God guiding my steps, how can I go wrong?" countered Lament.
"We used to work the Street of Gods in Haven," said Fisher. "We met a lot of people who claimed to be doing the work of one god or another. Some of them were nasty bastards, and we had to shut them down. And sometimes we killed them to stop them doing what their gods told them to. You say you hear a voice, Lament. That's fine, but Hawk and I don't, so we just have to do as our consciences dictate. You've got an impressive reputation, Walking Man, but so have we. And we will stop you if it looks like you're threatening the Castle's safety, or the Land's. So I think Hawk and I will join you on your little excursion into the Inverted Cathedral. Just to keep an eye on things."
"I knew you would," Lament said easily. "The voice told me so."
Hawk decided to change the subject slightly, before Fisher's blood pressure hit a dangerous level. "The Seneschal said he looked at the Inverted Cathedral with his augmented Sight, and saw a vision of Hell."
Lament shook his head firmly. "No. The Cathedral has become a dark and evil place, but it is not itself a province of the inferno. It does, perhaps, contain a gateway to Hell. And if it does, I will close or banish it. I have always done what I must, for the greater good."
"I used to think that way once," said Hawk. "I'm not as sure as I used to be. So whatever you do inside the Inverted Cathedral, we're going to be right there with you. And Lament, if you do turn out to be just another crazy bastard, we will shut you down."
"Right," said Fisher. "Suddenly and violently and all over the place."
"I knew putting the three of you together in one room was a mistake," said Chance. "I am now officially changing the subject, and I don't want to hear any arguments. Tell me, Sir Lament, there are all kinds of rumors that the Inverted Cathedral contains hidden treasures and forgotten wonders. What do you think is in there?"
"The Grail, perhaps," said Lament, quite seriously. "Fragments of the True Cross. The mummified heads of saints, still alive and speaking strange truths. The whip that scourged Jesus' back, with the holy blood still dried on it. Even some of the furniture He made for His earthly father. To touch something the Christ touched with His own hands…" Lament smiled suddenly. "I haven't found two books that can agree on the subject. But one thing they all seem sure of, the Inverted Cathedral contains a true wonder, a thing of great power. Perhaps the source of the Cathedral's magic, or the key to its re-creation. Or its destruction. I am the Wrath of God, and if I cannot save the Cathedral, I will unmake it."
"All right, that does it," Chance said firmly. "I am going into the Inverted Cathedral with you people. Somebody has to be the quiet voice of reason, and I don't see any other volunteers."
"You can't go," said Hawk, just as firmly. "I need you here to protect the Castle in our absence. There's always the chance something nasty might break loose from the Cathedral while we're inside. Remember the killing shadows in the Court? And if we don't come back, and nothing's changed in the Cathedral, someone will have to be here to lead in the next team."
Chance gestured for Hawk to join him. The two men got up and moved to the other side of the room, where they could speak quietly and privately. Chance put his head close to Hawk's. "If the powers that be knew who you really were, you wouldn't have to go in alone. You'd have a whole army at your back, ready to follow you into hell itself."
"Maybe," said Hawk. "But I have a strong feeling an army would just get in the way. A small force might go unrecognized for quite a time, and we can use all the advantages we can get. Besides, I don't think this is a struggle that can be won by force of arms. I'll go that far with Lament. I don't know what we'll find when we go all the way down. Which is all the more reason not to endanger anyone we don't absolutely have to. And if worst comes to worst, all three of us are expendable."
They broke off as Lament turned suddenly, and his hand snapped out to snatch something from the air. The tiny captive buzzed angrily inside his great fist, and then Lament's fingers were forced apart as Lightfoot Moonfleet expanded rapidly to full human size. She glared at Lament, then flapped her translucent wings vigorously to make sure they hadn't been crumpled.
"Honestly," she said. "Some men are all hands."
"I have no use for spies," Lament said coldly.
"Then you won't go far in politics. Someone's always listening in Forest Castle," said the faerie tartly. "You should know that. How did you know I was here?"
"God sees all," said Lament. "Now leave. I will not tolerate the presence of your kind. Soulless tricksters, godless immortals. The faeries have never been a true friend of man. Go back to your master and tell him to wait until I come for him."
"The charm school just took your money and ran, didn't they?" asked Lightfoot Moonfleet. "See you around, people."
She shrank back down to insect size and flew out the door as it opened, just missing a startled Seneschal's head. He blinked a few times, ran a hand through what was left of his hair to make sure nothing was caught in it, then he entered the room and shut the door behind him. He nodded to Hawk and Fisher, and hefted a long cloth-wrapped bundle in his hands.
"I've decided I'm going in there with you. It is undoubtedly a bad idea, and it will all inevitably end in tears, but you wouldn't get ten feet without my gifts to guide you. Let me make it very clear that I am only here because of emotional blackmail, and that this time I expect to get my fair share of whatever treasures we might find along the way. I didn't care so much about such things when I rediscovered the missing South Wing, but I have a wife and children to support now. I wouldn't mind if I got a pension. I did ask, but apparently no Seneschal has ever lived long enough to claim one before, which tells you something if you're paying attention."
"You must be the Seneschal," said Lament dryly. "You're just as I imagined you. I understood you were crippled with gout."
"Oh, I am," agreed the Seneschal. "But I had a healer slap a temporary spell on it so I can't feel it. Can't risk anything stronger, or the magic would interfere with my directional gifts." He glared at Fisher. "No doubt I will pay for this later with suffering beyond your ability to imagine, but I couldn't let you go into that awful place without me. If only because if this mission fails, the whole Castle could be endangered. So here I am. Ready and willing and not i at all resentful." He looked at Hawk. "I brought something for you. Thought it might come in handy if we run into trouble."
He gave his cloth bundle over to Hawk, who looked at it uncertainly for a moment. The bundle seemed unusually heavy, but it was a familiar weight. He unwrapped the cloth with increasingly hurried fingers, and his heart beat faster as he looked at the long sword in its battered scabbard.
"The Rainbow sword," said Chance, his voice soft and reverential.
"Of course," said Chance, tearing his gaze away from the sword. "Of course it should be you, Captain."
"I am God's representative," said Lament. "If anyone should have that sword—"
"I wouldn't even give it to you as a suppository," snapped the Seneschal. "I don't trust your motives, Lament. Never have. I want that sword in the hands of someone I can trust."
"Thank you, Sir Seneschal," said Hawk. "I hope we won't need it, but having it makes me feel a whole lot better."
He strapped the sword on his hip, opposite his axe. The weight was immediately comforting, and somehow right. As though the Rainbow sword belonged there and always had. Then Chance produced the Hand of Glory he'd used to open the Rift outside Haven, and Lament nearly hit the roof.
"What the hell is that infamous thing doing here!"
"The Magus created it a while back," said Chance. "I thought the Seneschal could use it to find or force a way into the Inverted Cathedral."
"Good thinking, Questor," said the Seneschal, taking the mummified Hand and inspecting it closely. "I'm glad someone here is thinking ahead."
"That is an evil thing," snapped Lament. "A product of unholy magics and an offense of God!"
"Stuff and nonsense," said the Seneschal. "It's just a magical tool, no different than any other. Unpleasant to manufacture, I'll admit, but then so is jugged hare."
"It is made from the hand of a dead man!"
"You should see what they do with the rest of the body." The Seneschal stopped a moment to consider. "Actually, no, you shouldn't. It would put you off tripe and onions for life. Now stop arguing and let's get a bloody move on. You can lead the way, Sir Lament, since you're so eager."
He looked thoughtfully at Lament. "What do you think we're going to find inside the Cathedral?"
"A journey down through the circles of the damned," said Lament.
"Right, that's it—I'm not talking to you anymore," said the Seneschal.
"I'd better get back to the Court," Chance said tactfully. "I hope by now they'll have recovered from Sir Lament's little visit earlier. Last I heard, they were still fishing politicians out of the moat. Good luck to you all."
He smiled and left. Everyone looked expectantly at Lament, who shook his head slowly. "Perhaps I should do this alone."
"Not a hope," said Hawk.
"Not in my Castle," said the Seneschal.
"Let's go," said Fisher.
They left the room and made their way down the corridor. Fisher found herself beside Lament, and groped for some kind of small talk. "I notice there's a lot more Christian worship going on these days. I suppose the long night put the wind up everybody."
"Children kneel in Jesus till they learn the cost of nails," said Lament.
"I'm not talking to you anymore," said Fisher.
In a deserted corridor some distance away, Lightfoot Moonfleet was flying back to the Magus as fast as her wings could carry her. He had to be told what was happening. He hadn't foreseen the arrival of the Walking Man, or that he would choose to descend into the Inverted Cathedral. Which could mean all the Magus' careful planning had been for nothing. She strained for more speed and hoped she'd reach the Magus in time.
CHAPTER SEVEN
Going Down, Down
They could feel the pressure of the Inverted Cathedral long before they could see anything. Approaching the warded-off site was like heading toward a dentist with blood dripping from his hands, or a surgeon holding a bone saw caked with dried-on gore. A mixed feeling of alarm and horror, and the foreknowledge of unavoidable pain. The last few corridors were deserted, silent, and filled with uneasy shadows. There were no human guards. Nothing human could bear the proximity of the Inverted Cathedral for long and still stay sane. The small group heading determinedly into the shadows were four very special people, all with some claim to be just a little more than human. But even they could feel something terrible waiting ahead of them, pulsing with considered menace and awful intent.
When the four of them finally reached the chamber that held the entrance to the Inverted Cathedral, it came as something of a disappointment. It was only a medium-sized room, maybe twenty feet across, with a six-foot-square trapdoor set right in the middle of the floor. Nothing else. No furniture, no paintings or hangings, and certainly no sign of life, human or otherwise. Only a vague feeling of pressure on the air, like pushing against some unseen barrier, prevented them from walking straight into the chamber. The four of them stood together in the open doorway, the only entry into the silent room, and looked carefully around the bare and empty chamber.
"You are sure this is the right place?" Hawk finally asked the Seneschal.
"Of course I'm sure!" snapped the Seneschal without turning around. "My sense of direction is never wrong. And besides, according to my extensive knowledge of Forest Castle's layout, this whole room shouldn't be here. This is supposed to be one long, uninterrupted corridor. And up until twelve years ago, it was. It's an interesting thought: Does this room really exist, does it have an actual history, or has it just manifested here to provide an entrance to the Inverted Cathedral? Was the room built long ago by human strength and skill and sweat, or is it just a magical construct?"
"What's the difference?" asked Fisher.
The Seneschal gave her a pitying look. "If this chamber was actually built by human means, it won't necessarily disappear once the Inverted Cathedral's magic shuts off. After all, no one knows what might happen once we start messing about inside the Cathedral."
"Thanks a whole bunch," said Fisher. "Now I have a new threat to worry about."
"Just doing my job," said the Seneschal.
"What's this pressure I can feel?" asked Hawk, quickly changing the subject.
"The Magus' protective wards," said Lament. "He's set up an avoidance spell. Quite a powerful one. Only the strong-willed and those with certain purpose could even look into this room. If we try to enter, the pressure against us will grow stronger. The harder we try to get in, the harder the wards will push us out. How's your willpower these days, Captain Hawk?"
"Oh, he's stubborn as hell," said Fisher. "And I've been known to be pretty bloody-minded myself."
"I'd never have guessed," murmured Lament. "All right, you two go in first. See how far you can get. The Seneschal and I will observe you from here and take notes."
"Just in case you don't come back," said the Seneschal helpfully.
Hawk and Fisher looked at each other, shrugged simultaneously, hefted their weapons, then stepped cautiously forward into the room. The sound of their boots on the bare wooden floor was almost painfully loud. Everything still looked the same, but the sense of pressure was immediately much worse. Hawk's instincts were yelling at him to turn and race out of the room, and his heart beat frantically in his chest as his breathing became harsh and hurried. He just knew something bad was going to happen. His hand tightened on the hilt of his axe until his knuckles went white. He glared quickly about him, but the room remained still and quiet and empty. Close beside him, Fisher advanced step by unwilling step. Her face was strained and pale, and her eyes were almost painfully wide. Hawk and Fisher looked at each other and shared a humorless smile before pressing on, leaning forward slightly like two runners breasting an invisible tape.
They were only half a dozen feet into the room, and already Hawk's legs were shaking violently, while his stomach muscles clenched in sympathy. The sense of threat was so real now, he could almost touch it. Sweat ran down his face and dripped from his chin. He couldn't even look around to see how Fisher was doing anymore. He had to concentrate all the willpower he had into taking the next step, and the next. His whole world had narrowed into the room ahead of him, and the trapdoor straight ahead. So he was very surprised when all the lights went out and darkness engulfed h
im.
The pressure was suddenly gone, and he stumbled forward a few steps before recovering himself. The darkness was absolute, no matter which way he turned his head. For a horrible moment he thought he was back in the Darkwood, alone and abandoned. Panic threatened to overwhelm him before he fought it ruthlessly down. He wasn't scared of the dark anymore. He wasn't. He called out to Fisher, and then to Lament and the Seneschal, but there was no reply. Hawk wondered if he was even in the same chamber anymore. Perhaps he and Fisher had triggered some hidden spell of the Magus', and they'd been transported somewhere else. He had a feeling of space around him, but no way of knowing how great that space was. His breathing speeded up again as he had to consider the possibility that he was indeed back in the rotten heart of the long night and the Darkwood, where it was always dark, dark enough to break anyone.
And then he knelt down and touched the ground beneath him, and relief flooded through him as he felt bare wooden boards with his hand. He was still in the room. He straightened up, angry at how close he'd come to losing control, and moved cautiously forward, his empty hand stretched out before him. He had a box of matches on him, but lighting one would mean putting away his axe, if only for a moment, and he didn't feel like doing that just yet. Besides, who knew what light might attract in a darkness like this?
And then there was a light, some distance away, right in front of him. A silver glow formed, eerie and unnatural, and out of the growing light came a face from Hawk's past, when he had another name and another legend. Out of the silver light a dead man came walking, the late King John IV, once ruler of the Forest Kingdom, once Hawk's father, when he had been Prince Rupert. The King looked just as he had in the final few moments before the last great battle to defend Forest Castle from the imminent demon army. He wore full armor, the breastplate etched and traced with defensive runes, and in his hand he carried that great and awful sword Rockbreaker, one of the ancient and powerful Infernal Devices. When Rockbreaker spoke, the world trembled. The King's hair was gray, and his face was lined with age and pain and loss, but still he held himself well, standing tall and proud and utterly royal. Hawk had always found it sad that his father had only really learned to be a King at the very end of his life. He held his ground as his father approached and finally came to a halt before him. King John looked his son up and down, his gaze openly contemptuous.
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