The walls were also getting gradually closer as the spire narrowed. Now I could see the texture of the stones—and something else. There were creatures clinging to the walls, so many that they resembled a colony of insects, the teeming center of a hive. What were they?
The higher I rose, the closer the curved walls pressed in toward me. Only then did I understand exactly what I was seeing. My heart lurched with fear. I was gazing at a great horde of lamia witches, the vaengir.
There were hundreds of them. Each had four limbs, the heavier back ones armed with savage claws, the forelimbs resembling human arms with delicate hands. A pair of black insectile wings were folded across the back, concealing an inner, lighter pair. After the deluge, they were fluttering them in order to dry them. Outside, on the plain, it would soon be dark, and once their wings were dry they’d be able to leave the Ord and venture out of the cloud shield to attack Kalambaka and the monks of Meteora.
I could see the lamias watching me through their heavy-lidded eyes, gaunt cheeked and restless; they were eager to feed. The rumbling from above grew louder, changing slowly into a grinding and clanking that hurt my eardrums. I looked up. Above me was a huge spindle, which was spinning slowly, hauling up the chains, drawing the metal dishes upward.
I glanced down at the other vessels and saw that there were human forms sprawled in some of them, whether alive or dead, I couldn’t tell, because they were too far below me. None of them seemed to be moving. Suddenly I understood.
We were food for the lamias! Food to give them strength for their flight! The horror of what I faced set my whole body trembling. I was going to be torn to pieces. Slowly, taking deep slow breaths, I forced my fear to subside. There were other people to think about. Were the Spook, Arkwright, and Alice in the same situation as me, being drawn aloft to feed the ravenous lamia hordes?
There was a jerk, and the grinding and rumbling ceased. I looked down again and realized that I was right in the center of the tower, the highest of about thirty dishes.
Then I felt my dish begin to ascend once more. I glanced at the other dishes below me, but they weren’t moving; I was leaving them behind. Moments later I passed a large, static metal cylinder wrapped with rusty chains, one of the mechanisms by which the other dishes had been lifted. I must be suspended from some different system. Now, above me, I saw something that looked like a boiling black cloud, much like the one above the Ord, but inside it. I flinched away as I drew nearer. It filled me with fear. A moment later I was within it, unable to see anything. The dish came to a halt, and I was suspended there for several moments in absolute darkness.
Then the black cloud began to recede, thinning as it did so, and I was able to see my surroundings. I was still within the rusting metal vessel. Below was the yawning void through which I had ascended. I had been drawn up into a small room of black marble. It was no more than a cube, with no doors or windows and only two items of furniture: a large circular mirror on the wall to my left—and a throne.
I began to tremble because I’d seen that throne before. It was the one the Fiend had been sitting in when I’d talked to him on the black barge back in the spring. It was intricately carved. On the left arm was a fierce dragon, its claws lifted aggressively; on the right was a fork-tongued snake, its long body trailing down the side of the throne to coil about the claw-footed leg.
I stepped out of the dish onto the marble floor, looking straight ahead, afraid to glance down at the gulf below. As I did so, a sudden chill ran the length of my spine, a warning that I was in the presence of a dangerous servant of the dark. I knew what was happening because it had happened to me before. I couldn’t move. I wasn’t even breathing but felt no compulsion to do so. Time had stopped. Stopped for me as well as for my immediate environment. That could mean only one thing. The Fiend.
And suddenly there he was, sitting on that ornate throne, once more in the shape of Matthew Gilbert.
“I’m going to show you something now, Tom,” he said, his voice filled with malice. “The future. What will happen in the next few hours. Only you can stop it. Look into the mirror!”
I felt my heart surge in my chest. I was breathing again, but all around me was utter stillness. Although I felt free to move, time was still frozen. Unable to help myself, I did as he commanded and looked at the mirror. Everything grew dark, and for a moment I felt myself falling, but then I was looking down on the metal dishes from somewhere just above, able to see them all, my eyes clearer and sharper than they’d ever been.
Some dishes were filled with blood; others held people. Flesh and blood—it was all food. Food for the lamias. I could see the Spook in one; he wasn’t holding his staff and looked old and frail, gazing upward with terrified, despairing eyes. In another was Alice, gripping the edge of the dish with white knuckles. But Mam wasn’t there, and somehow that gave me hope.
No sooner had that thought entered my head than I heard the beating of many wings and the flock of vaengir flew down onto the dishes with outstretched claws. They formed a dark, ravenous mass of thrashing wings, obstructing my view, but I heard Alice cry out.
I was helpless, unable to go to her aid. I could do nothing for any of them, not even cover my own ears to block the awful sound of screams and tearing flesh.
Now the view changed, and I was outside the Ord, watching the servants of the Ordeen ride out of the gates. There were thousands of them, scimitars and spears at the ready, their elongated faces fixed with cruel intent. They were all male; of the females there was no sign. Time seemed to speed up, and I saw them approaching Kalambaka, overtaking the warriors who had fled the Ord. These they cut down without mercy or lifted up in order to drink their blood before casting the broken bodies back into the dust. Behind them came the maenad hordes, gorging upon the flesh of the dead and dying.
In the walled town they attacked all those who had been unwilling or unable to flee. Unarmed men and women suffered the same fate. Children, even babies, were torn from their mothers’ arms, drained, then dashed against the bloodstained walls. Once again, maenads pounced on the broken bodies and tore at the flesh of the victims. Next I saw the vaengir swoop down upon the monasteries of Meteora; their lofty heights were no protection against such a ferocious aerial attack. I saw bodies fall like broken dolls; the floor of the katholicon ran with blood. No more would hymns soar like angels to fill the dome; no more would the monks’ prayers strengthen the light. The Ordeen was now free to emerge anywhere she chose. Now the County too was at risk.
“That is the future, Tom!” cried the Fiend. “The events I showed you will begin to unfold in just a few moments, beginning with the deaths of your master, Alice, and Arkwright. That is, unless you take the necessary steps to prevent it. I can help you. I require something from you, that’s all. I simply want you to give me your soul. In return I offer you a chance to destroy your mother’s enemy.”
The vision faded, and I was left staring at my own reflection. I turned back toward the Fiend. “My soul?” I asked in astonishment. “You’d own my soul?”
“Yes, it would belong to me. Mine to use exactly as I wished.”
Own my soul? What did that mean? What were the consequences? To be dead and trapped forever in a living hell? In the dark itself?
The face that stared at me from above the throne was no longer smiling. The eyes were hard and cruel.
“Three days from now, if you survive, I will come to collect your soul. That will give you time enough to do your mother’s will and reach a place of safety. I will not kill you. No, the terms of this contract are such that when I come for you as agreed, your breath will leave your body and you will die, your soul falling into my hands. And your soul will endure in my possession and be subject to my will. The hobbles that bind me will no longer be important. I will not kill you myself, so my rule here will not be limited to a mere hundred years. You will have agreed to forfeit your life so you will be removed from the world of your own volition. Thus I will be free to use my own devic
es to work toward eventual domination of this world. It will take time, a long time, but I am patient.”
I shook my head. “No. It’s madness. You’re asking too much. I can’t agree to that.”
“Why not, Tom? It’s the obvious thing to do. Make that sacrifice and surrender your soul into my keeping. You will achieve so much: I can give you the chance to avert all the deaths I’ve shown you. And you will prevent any future danger to the County. It’s your decision, Tom. But you saw what is about to happen. Only you can stop it!”
Only by agreeing could I prevent the deaths of Alice, Arkwright, and the Spook. And thousands more would die, the Ordeen would triumph, and seven years from now, when she took revenge on Mam and destroyed everything and everyone she held dear back home, it would be the turn of the County to endure a similar fate. But to prevent that, I’d have to suffer the loss of my own soul. It was a terrible thing. But would the sacrifice be worth it? What did the Fiend mean by a “chance”?
“How much of a chance would I be given in return for my soul?” I demanded. “What would you do to help me now?”
“Two things. The first is to delay the Ordeen’s awakening. An hour is the best I can do. Of course, some of her servants awake long before her. Others are already beginning to stir. Those you must avoid or deal with as best you can. But secondly, and most importantly, I would tell you the location of the Ordeen.”
More than once in the past I’d been given similar chances by servants of the dark. Golgoth, one of the Old Gods, had offered me my life and soul in exchange for freeing him from the pentacle that bound him. I’d refused. I counted for nothing; my duty was always to the County. In Pendle, the witch Wurmalde had also demanded something from me—the keys to Mam’s trunks. She hoped to find tremendous power for the dark in them. Despite the fact that the lives of Jack, Ellie, and their daughter, Mary, depended on my agreement, once again I’d refused.
But this offer was different. It wasn’t just my own life at stake, nor the lives of members of my family. Yes, my soul would belong to the Fiend, the dark personified. But I also would be saving the County from a future visitation. And only if he won me to his side could the Fiend rule the earth until the end of time. That wouldn’t be the case—he’d simply own the part of me that was immortal. The Ord was a huge, complex structure. Knowing the precise location of Mam’s enemy would give us a real chance of success, I thought.
I was very tempted to agree to his offer. What else could I do? And it would buy time, something we all needed very badly. Besides, there was one thing that gave me hope. There was no evidence that Mam was dead, and if she still lived, then anything was possible. Perhaps she would find a way to save me, some means by which I could be freed from the bargain I was about to make.
“All right,” I said, shuddering at the thought of what I would be surrendering into the Fiend’s control. “I’ll pledge my soul in return for what you offer.”
“Three days from now I’ll return to collect it. So, is it agreed?”
I nodded. “Yes. It’s agreed,” I said, my heart sinking into my boots.
“So be it. Then here is the information you need. The Ordeen is not to be found within any of the three towers. They are home to her servants and contain only traps and death for any who enter. However, there is a dome behind them, on the roof of the main structure. That’s where you’ll find her. Take care in crossing that roof, though—it contains many dangers. And remember, you have just one hour before the Ordeen awakes.”
Having delivered the second part of what he’d promised, the Fiend smiled and gestured that I should take my place in the dish again. No sooner had I done so than the room began to darken, the cloud thickening and boiling about me. The last thing I saw was his gloating face. But what else could I have done? I asked myself. How could I have allowed so many to die? At least this gave us some chance of averting such a bloodbath. What was my soul compared to that?
I’d made a bargain with the Fiend. In three days’ time, unless Mam could help me, I’d have to pay a terrible price for this chance at victory.
CHAPTER XIX
Your Fate
THERE was a lurch, and the dish began to descend, the cloud quickly dissipating to reveal the inside of the twisted spire again. The lamias were still there, clinging to the stones, but did not move. As I passed a cylinder it began to turn slowly, rumbling and creaking as it yielded the chains of other dishes to the pull of gravity. I glanced over the rim to watch them edging down ahead of me. Even as I studied them, looking for the ones that had held the Spook, Alice, and Arkwright, they disappeared from view.
I remembered the pitch blackness of the lower regions, and no sooner had I done so than the light about me faded; my descent now took place in complete gloom. Finally, with a jolt, my dish reached the ground.
For a moment I didn’t move. I waited in the darkness, hardly daring to breathe. I heard dull thuds nearby as other dishes made contact with the soft ground. I remembered the creature that, cloaked in darkness, had fastened its teeth around my leg and dragged me to the saucer. What if it was still lurking in the vicinity? I forced myself to be calm. The unseen creature had served its purpose, placing me where I could be taken up to meet the Fiend. Surely it would let me be now? After all, we’d struck a bargain and I’d been given just one hour to find the Ordeen before she was fully awake. But could I trust the Fiend? Would he keep to our agreement?
There was a movement to my right and I cringed away, but a moment later a light flared and I could see a figure holding up a lantern. To my relief, it was the Spook. He approached me slowly, glancing uneasily from side to side. Close behind him was Arkwright. As I clambered up from my metal vessel, my feet sinking into the mud, another figure came out of the darkness toward the lantern: Alice.
“I thought it was all over for us then,” the Spook observed. “One moment I’m waiting to be drained of blood, the next I’m back here. Seems too good to be true . . .”
He glanced at us all in turn, but I said nothing, though I could feel Alice’s eyes watching me closely.
“Then let’s see what else we can find,” my master said. “I’d feel better with my staff in hand.”
We followed the Spook, staying within the yellow circle of light cast by the lantern. Within moments we’d found his staff and bag, then Arkwright’s, and finally my own belongings.
“I feel a lot better with this at the ready!” Arkwright exclaimed.
“It’s almost as if someone’s helping us,” observed the Spook. “I wonder if your mam’s playing some part here.”
“It would be nice to think so. I just hope she’s all right,” I said, hoping he wouldn’t guess at my part in what had happened.
“Well, it does seem like we’ve been given a second chance,” he continued, “so let’s make the most of it. I don’t know how long we’ve got before this place is fully awake, so let’s hurry on. But the question is—in which direction?”
I now knew where to find the Ordeen, but how could I tell him without revealing the source of my knowledge?
“We need to get to the foot of those three flights of steps again,” my master continued. “Each one must lead up into a different tower. This last one was a trap. The center one contained elementals that killed the witches. That leaves only one.”
“My instincts tell me that we won’t find her in a tower,” I said, choosing my words carefully. “Each one will surely contain a trap like the one that nearly did for us. I think she’ll be in the dome on the roof of the main structure—the one that Mam mentioned. Mam said that if the Ordeen wasn’t in the towers, she could well be there.”
The Spook scratched at his beard and pondered what I’d said. “Well, lad, as I’ve told you many times before, you should always trust your instincts. So as both you and your mother agree, I’m inclined to go along with it. But how do we get out of here?” he asked, swiveling his head and holding the lantern higher.
Apart from that illuminated area, we were su
rrounded by darkness; we couldn’t even see the walls. But the Spook set off at a rapid pace, and we followed. From a narrow window we glimpsed a grim view down onto a nightmare landscape of buttresses and turrets and dark pools of water. We didn’t linger but pressed on through a narrow doorway and down some steps until we were standing on the roof of the Ord’s main structure behind the towers.
There were a number of small turrets and odd prominences ahead of us, but beyond we could see the dome rising up. We walked in single file, the Spook in the lead, Alice behind me, and Arkwright bringing up the rear. Far above, the dark cloud continued to boil and a faint drizzle was drifting into our faces. The Spook still held up the lantern—though at the moment it wasn’t needed because the stones of the Ord radiated a bronze glow.
There was a lot of water on the roof. In hollows it had formed deep pools. Soon we were walking down a gentle incline alongside a gulley full of still water; shelves of stones rose up on either side, hemming us in.
Suddenly a pale yellow light shone down on us from above. I looked up and saw the waning moon just before it was covered again. We were approaching what looked like the entrance to a tunnel, but when I went in, I could see that we were not totally cut off from the sky.
Again the moon came into view, shining through what appeared to be the bars of a cage. It was almost as if we were within the skeleton of a gigantic animal, looking up through the arch of its ribs. Clinging to the stone were the unquiet dead. Some hung by their hands; others clung with all four limbs. And on the ground all around us we could see more of the dead.
“Oh, I don’t like this place one bit!” Alice complained, her eyes wide and fearful.
Being the Spook’s apprentice, I’d encountered lots of trapped souls before, but this was far worse. Some were clearly human—abject wretches in tattered rags, either holding out their arms to us and crying out for help or just jabbering incoherently. That was bad enough, but others were only partly human and resembled creatures out of a nightmare. One took the form of a naked man, but he had many legs and arms, like a large, twitching spider, and his skin was covered in boils and warts. Another had the head of a bewhiskered rat but a sinuous body that ended in a tail rather than legs.
The Last Apprentice: Complete Collection Page 129