The Devil soa-3

by Mark Chadbourn

  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.

  ‘Put him out of his misery,’ Carpenter growled. ‘No man should have to live like that.’

  Grace’s hand flew to her mouth when she realized what she was seeing. ‘Oh,’ she exclaimed, blanching.

  ‘Do not look.’ Meg caught the other woman’s arm and tried to turn her away.

  ‘I would know what monsters we face,’ Grace said, resisting. Her expression hardened. ‘If we flinch from the truth, we cannot be prepared for what is expected of us.’

  ‘Kill him,’ Carpenter pleaded, his face contorting. ‘Let him suffer no more.’ Will was surprised by the vehemence in his voice.

  Launceston slid his dagger out of its sheath once more and stepped forward, his face impassive. Will wondere
d if it was even possible to kill the poor soul, short of chopping down the tree that contained him. But as the Earl raised his blade, those lips in the wood finally recalled their ability. With a twitch, they formed an O. Caught by the sight of that dark hole in the trunk, the spies recoiled in shock when a rumble reverberated deep inside the wood, rising up until it burst free as a high-pitched squeal of alarm. Clear and unending, it soared up above the treetops. Even as the aristocrat struck out with his dagger, other voices picked up the sound until the forest rang with warning shrieks.

  ‘What do we do?’ Grace cried.

  ‘Run.’ Will beckoned for her to follow as he turned to dash into the trees.

  As if in answer to the cries, the air filled with the sound of mighty wings. Black shapes wheeled across the brassy sky. Will squinted, unable to tell if they were winged men or giant birds, but he had already guessed before Meg spoke. ‘The Corvata,’ she said, her features darkening. ‘The eyes and ears of the Enemy.’

  The spies darted beneath the verdant canopy, hoping they had been quick enough to avoid being seen by the flying sentinels. As they stumbled through the thick forest, tripping over roots and crashing into trunks, Carpenter snarled, ‘We were fools to think we could approach the fortress without discovery. We were fools, and now it will cost us our lives.’

  CHAPTER FORTY-SIX

  Shafts of sunlight pierced the canopy of leaves. Branches lashed the faces of the six humans as they raced over the soft, treacherous, mossy ground. All around them, screams rang out through the hot, humid air, offering no respite or chance to catch a breath. High overhead, mighty wings beat like the sound of rending sailcloth. Will glanced up, but he saw nothing and hoped that meant the things could not see him.

  Strangewayes ran up to Will. ‘We cannot outrun them. Let me take Grace and return to the river,’ he gasped. ‘We can follow the course more easily.’

  ‘Fool,’ Launceston breathed. ‘That is the first route the Fay will investigate.’

  Will raised a hand to bring the group to a halt. As they gathered around him, eyes searching the green world, Strangewayes cried, ‘What, then?’ Tears of desperation stung the corners of his eyes. He let his gaze fall upon Grace as he blinked them away. ‘Do we run wildly like stags before the hunt until the Enemy bring us down one by one?’

  ‘This forest is vast and the Unseelie Court few,’ Will replied. ‘Even with their vaunted supernatural powers, we can evade them.’

  Meg’s green eyes glinted, her face now as hard as marble. ‘Take heed of Will,’ she said. ‘Anything but a calm head will lead us into the Enemy’s hands.’

  ‘His recklessness and wilful disregard for our safety have brought us to the brink of disaster,’ Strangewayes protested. ‘And you say we should follow him still?’

  ‘If he makes much more noise, I can silence him with one stroke,’ Launceston volunteered, his stare unwavering.

  ‘Tobias, you must listen to Will.’ Grace clasped his hands in hers as she addressed the youngest spy. ‘I know you fear only for my safety. But Will has never failed us-’

  ‘How can you say that?’ Strangewayes threw his hands wide.

  ‘The Fay will expect us to flee in panic,’ Will continued in a calming tone. ‘In their arrogance, they think us weak, driven by our passions, our fear. We must show them we are better than that. If we run like rabbits, you are right, Tobias, they will hunt us down with ease.’

  ‘What do you suggest, then?’ Carpenter sucked in a deep breath to calm himself.

  ‘Stealth is the only way we can win this fight,’ Will replied. ‘We continue towards the Fortress Crepuscule-’

  ‘No.’ Strangewayes shuddered. ‘Into their very arms?’ His hand slipped to the hilt of his dagger.

  The unearthly shrieks had ebbed away, but the beating wings still circled overhead. Will held up a hand. ‘We must keep our wits about us, and maintain a clear head. While they look for us running towards the river, we can steal to the very walls of their home, unseen, unexpected.’

  ‘Please, Tobias, listen to him,’ Grace implored.

  The hot-headed young spy seemed agitated still. ‘I will not stand idly by and watch him lead you to your death.’

  Strangewayes was acting like a fool, but Will pushed aside his irritation; he had seen this behaviour too many times before. When the Unseelie Court entered someone’s life, the world suddenly looked strange and terrifying. Men coped with it in different ways, and some, like Strangewayes, were driven to extremes to try to hold on to things they valued and people they loved. It was a kind of madness that oft-times passed, if the person was given space to recover. The ground had moved rapidly under Strangewayes’ feet, and Will only hoped the young man could find the strength within him to survive this turbulent time.

  Carpenter and Launceston were less tolerant, Will knew. They exchanged a quick look and he could see they were poised to act. ‘We must not fight,’ he insisted, trying for a calming note. ‘They are listening for us. That is why the warning cries have stopped.’

  Then, just when Will thought he was about to relent, Strangewayes lunged with the dagger. As Grace cried out in shock, Will threw himself back, feeling the blade whisk past his neck. He sensed that the younger spy had been waiting for a long time to make his move. As he regained his balance, Strangewayes’ fingers closed on Grace’s slim wrist and he dragged her with him through the undergrowth. She struggled to free herself.

  ‘Tobias, do not do this!’ she cried out, turning to look back at Will with pleading eyes. In that glance, he could see she was torn between the man she loved, though she knew he was a fool, and her belief in Will himself.

  Cursing, Will dashed after her, the others close behind. Each moment increased their risk of being heard. ‘He will be the death of us, not you,’ Launceston hissed through clenched teeth.

  ‘Do not hurt him,’ Will ordered. ‘He is deluded-’

  ‘And dangerous in his foolishness,’ Meg said. Her eyes narrowed, her patience exhausted.

  Through the curtains of low branches, Will glimpsed Strangewayes twisting and turning. Grace was now stifling her urge to call out so as not to attract attention, but he could see she was struggling to break free. As the younger man stumbled over a fallen tree, Carpenter, Launceston and Meg circled him like a wolf pack.

  Drawing his rapier, Strangewayes levelled it at the other spies. He clutched Grace to him. ‘You waste precious time,’ Will cautioned, unable to keep the crack out of his voice.

  Strangewayes took a step back, his heel pressing against a moss-covered mound. White eyes snapped open in the green, a black mouth tore wide, and the buried man screamed. The call was picked up in an instant. Shrieks rang out from trees and grassy banks and bubbling streams as the lost inhabitants of the village summoned their masters. The blood drained from Strangewayes’ face as he realized that through his own naivety he had put Grace’s life at more risk than Will ever had.

  Cursing, Carpenter whirled, looking for a way out. Before any decision could be made, the screams stopped, leaving an unnatural silence that was even more chilling. ‘What have you done?’ Carpenter croaked.

  From the direction of the fortress, the mournful sound of a single bell rang out.

  ‘The first alarm prepared them,’ Will growled, trying to pierce the forest gloom. ‘Now they are coming.’

  A tremor ran through the leaves above his head; the branches began to sway. After a moment, a tremendous wind tore at the branches like a herd of wild beasts marauding through the forest. The angle of the sunbeams shifted as if the sun had been hurled towards the horizon, and a deep, abiding gloom began to unfurl among the trees.

  Will grabbed Grace’s wrist and wrenched her out of Strangewayes’ grasp. ‘They took Jenny. They will not take you,’ he snarled. Beaten, the younger spy cried out in impotent fury, but Will was already picking a path away from the gathering dark. A drumbeat began to roll out deep in the forest at his back, the pounding growing louder by the moment. It was the s
ound of pursuit.

  ‘Will, do not fear for me,’ Grace cried out. ‘I chose to come with you in the full knowledge of the dangers that awaited.’ Her breath caught as they scrambled up a steep bank. ‘I am not afraid to die,’ she gasped.

  ‘Death is the least of our fears,’ Will growled. Forcing aside what might lie ahead, he thought back to the charts he had studied on the Corneille Noire. The vast Caroni river’s meanderings had been punctuated by falls and rapids, fast water gushing by high banks. There lay the one chance of escaping their pursuers.

  Crashing through the branches with one arm thrown across his face, he yanked Grace along so hard her feet barely touched the ground. The drumming swelled behind them. Out of the corner of his eye, Will spied Meg, Launceston and Carpenter pushing through the undergrowth in the same direction, but the young fool Strangewayes was nowhere to be seen. He glanced over his shoulder and instantly regretted it.

  Spectral, cadaverous faces snarling like wild beasts were emerging from the gloom. The pursuers thundered ever closer, bounding like hounds on all fours or swinging off branches and springing from tree trunks. Some were shaven-headed and bare-chested, with belts crossed over their torsos and axes or swords strapped to their backs. Others were ghosts in grey and silver doublets, white hair streaming, wicked-looking blades clenched in their fists. Will counted at least twenty of them: the Unseelie Court’s dreaded Hunters. Never slowing, never stopping, until they had their quarry; no more ruthless predators existed on the face of the earth. He had confronted them before, in the dark of an Edinburgh night and on the rain-lashed roof of Notre Dame cathedral in Paris, and it had taken all of his skill and experience and a dose of good fortune to survive.