“What are they?” I asked the Spook. “And what are they doing here?”
He turned to face me and shook his head. “There’s no way to be sure, lad, but I suspect they’re mostly trapped souls. Some of these spirits may have been here many years, bound to the Ord as it’s passed through the portal again and again. Others have descended so far from their former humanity that they’re barely recognizable. We call them abhuman spirits because their souls have degenerated and fallen away from what they once were. I’m afraid that even if we had time, there’s nothing to be done for these unfortunates. I don’t know what crimes they committed on Earth to be trapped in this place, but they’re so far from the light that they can no longer reach it now. Only the destruction of the Ord would free them.”
Trapped souls? I felt sick to my stomach at the thought that in three days’ time I might suffer a similar fate.
With a shake of his head, the Spook moved on until we’d passed beyond that fearful tunnel; the wailing and jabbering voices faded into the distance. The gulley came to an end, but beyond it the roof descended more steeply now. Directly ahead was the dome that contained the sleeping Ordeen. I could see a narrow entry at its base—a small, dark oval that filled me with dread. It had no door, but when the Spook tried to lead the way inside, he recoiled suddenly as if he’d walked into an obstruction.
He rubbed his forehead for a moment, then stepped back and jabbed at the opening with the base of his staff. He seemed to be striking at empty air, but there was a dull thud as it made contact with some invisible door.
“I can feel some sort of barrier,” he said, exploring the area with the palm of his hand. “It’s quite smooth but very solid. We’ll just have to hope that there’s another way in.”
But when I tried to touch what he was indicating, my hand passed beyond the Spook’s. I took a deep breath and stepped forward, crossing the barrier with ease. Immediately I felt a great distance between me and the others. I could still see them through the doorway, but they were like shadows, and there was no bronze glow illuminating everything. I was in a totally dark and silent world—what I sensed was a vast enclosed space.
I stepped back through to their side and was instantly engulfed by sound; it reminded me of when Arkwright had taught me to swim. He’d thrown me into the canal, and I’d thought I was drowning. As he pulled me up by the scruff of my neck, I’d come out of the silent underwater world to be buffeted by sound. Now it was the same; there were anxious voices and Alice’s cries of alarm.
“Oh, Tom! I thought we’d lost you. You just seemed to disappear!” she told me, her voice filled with distress.
“I could see you,” I said. “But you were just like shadows and I couldn’t hear you.”
At that Alice approached the invisible barrier and tried to pass through, without success. Arkwright also tested it, first with his staff, second with his hand. “How is it that Tom can get through and we can’t?” he demanded.
The Spook didn’t answer him directly. He stared at me with glittering eyes. “It’s your mam’s doing, lad,” he said. “Remember what she told us? That by giving your blood you’d have access to places you’d not normally be able to go? She was desperate for you to come back to Greece with her. Maybe there’s something here in the Ord that only you can do. Certainly you’re the only one able to cross this barrier.”
The Spook was right. My blood now ran in the Ordeen’s veins and arteries. I could now enter places normally barred to outsiders, and so could Mam. This was part of her plan.
“We’re running out of time. Maybe I should go on alone?” I suggested.
I was scared, but it seemed the only way. I thought the Spook would object, but he nodded. “It might be the only way for one of us to reach the Ordeen before she wakes, but if you go on, lad, you’ll go alone—and who knows into what danger.”
“I don’t like it, Tom!” Alice cried.
“I think it’s a chance we just have to take,” continued the Spook. “If we don’t find and destroy the Ordeen, then none of us will escape with our lives. What’s it like in there? What did you see?”
“Nothing—it’s just dark and very quiet.”
“Then you’d better take the lantern,” he said, handing it to me. “You go on, lad, and see what you can do. We’ll try and find another way in.”
I nodded, took the lantern, smiled in reassurance at Alice—and stepped through the invisible barrier again. I was really scared, but it had to be done. I glanced back at the shadows of the Spook, Arkwright, and Alice, then went forward resolutely into that silent world. But it was no longer totally quiet now that I was in it. My footsteps echoed back at me from the darkness, and I was aware of my own breathing and heartbeat. Gripping my staff and bag firmly in my left hand, I held the lantern aloft with my right. Anything could be lurking beyond that yellow circle of light.
I must have walked for about two hundred yards or so without encountering any wall or obstruction, but I was aware of a change. My footsteps no longer echoed. And then, ahead of me, I saw a big doorway with steps leading upward beyond it.
I held my breath and came to a halt. Someone was sitting on the bottom step, looking in my direction. It was a young girl with fair hair falling onto her shoulders, a raggedy dress, and bare feet. She stood up and smiled at me. She was about my own height and looked hardly older than Alice, yet despite the smile there was a certain fierce authority in her expression.
It was Mab Mouldheel. It seemed that the account of her death was mistaken. But how had she gotten here? How had she passed through the barrier?
CHAPTER XX
The Truth of Things
“WHAT took you so long?” she asked. “I’ve been waiting here for ages.”
“Why would you be waiting for me?” I asked warily.
“Because you have things to do and time is short! Your mam’s waiting,” she replied. “Here, I’ll carry this. . . .”
With those words she took the lantern from me and, seizing the sleeve of my cloak, began to pull me. For a moment I resisted but then allowed myself to be tugged up the narrow spiral steps. Faster and faster we went, until we were almost running.
Suddenly I started to worry. Why had I allowed her to control me like this? Was Mab using some sort of dark magic to bind me to her will?
“Where are your sisters? And why weren’t you with the rest of the Mouldheels?” I demanded, bringing our flight to a sudden halt. I didn’t trust her at all. Perhaps the Fiend had betrayed me, failed to keep his word. What if Mab was delivering me into the clutches of the Ordeen, who was already awake?
“We separated into different groups as we entered the Ord,” Mab explained. “Beth, Jennet, and I followed at a distance. Now they’re safe and sound and as far away from this ugly place as possible. But I stayed. Risked my life, I have, to do this. You should be grateful.”
“To do what?”
“Find the Ordeen for your mam. Scryed it for her, I did. Hardest thing I’ve ever done. Now come on, Tom. No time to delay. Time’s short, and your mam’s waiting up there!” she cried, trying to pull me up once more.
“Wait!” I shouted, resisting. “You knew where the Ordeen was? Yet we weren’t told? We wasted our time and then fell into a trap. Why didn’t you warn us? We could all have been killed!”
And there was worse, although I didn’t tell Mab. I’d just surrendered my soul to find out where the Ordeen was.
“No, Tom. It wasn’t like that at all. Only scryed that once we were inside the Ord. I could only do it by using the blood of one of the Ordeen’s servants. I cut the throat of one of the sleepers. Didn’t take me long.
“Then we knew that the Ordeen wasn’t in any of the towers. Knew she was here. So your mam decided to risk taking the most direct route. She led me out of the tunnel and along the wall. Went in through the main entrance, we did, bold as brass! Lots of danger inside, though—nasty insect things with six legs and huge pincers and lots of eyes. Didn’t come near your mam,
though. They kept their distance. Then we came up against a barrier here. Your mam could get through, but I couldn’t. Used her power to smash it so I could get in. Cost her a lot, too—drained some of her strength. Just shows how badly she needs me. ‘Bring Tom to me as quick as you can!’ she said. “So come on. No time to waste!”
With that, she began to tug me after her again. I didn’t resist, and soon we were running up the steps again at full pelt. We halted on a gloomy landing. Before us stood a doorway, and darkness beyond.
“You go inside,” Mab said. “Your mam’s waiting there to talk to you. She told me to wait outside. She wants to see you alone.”
I didn’t want to go in, but I held out my hand for the lantern. Mab shook her head. “Doesn’t want you to see her yet. Not like this. She’s changing. Just halfway there, she is. Not nice to look at . . .”
I didn’t like the way she said that about Mam, and I felt like striking her with my staff. Was Mam changing into her full Lamia shape?
“Go on!” Mab snapped.
I scowled at her and, clutching my staff and bag, went forward into the darkness of that forbidding chamber and waited for my eyes to adjust. But even before I was able to make out the shape in the corner, I could hear labored breathing. Was that Mam? She sounded as if she was hurt.
“Mam! Mam! Is it you?” I cried.
“Yes, son, it’s me!” a voice replied. It sounded hoarse and somewhat deeper than I remembered. And weary and full of pain. But without doubt it was Mam.
“Are you all right, Mam? Are you hurt?”
“There is some pain, son, but it’s only to be expected. I’m changing. I can choose my shape, and I’m taking on one that might just give me a chance against the Ordeen. But it’s been harder than I thought. Much harder. I still need a little time to ready myself. You must delay her.”
“Delay her? How?” I demanded.
“First with words. You’ll be an enigma to her, a puzzle that she’ll be desperate to solve. That’s your first defense. Later, your chain and staff might buy us further time. Are you still wearing the blade, Tom? And have you used the wish?”
My heart sank right down into my boots at her words. I suddenly realized that Mam had wanted me to use the Grimalkin’s gifts against the Ordeen. But I had to tell her the truth.
“I still have the blade, but I used the dark wish to save Alice. A feral lamia had her in its jaws. She’d have died otherwise.”
I heard Mam sigh wearily. “Combining the wish and the blade might have given you a real chance against the Ordeen. But if you survive this, son, you made the right decision. You’ll need Alice by your side. As a last resort, use the blade anyway.”
“What did you mean by me being a puzzle to the Ordeen?” I asked. “I don’t understand. Why will I be that?”
“Don’t you remember what I told you? The reason we gave her your blood? She will know you and not know you. You will seem like kin. Someone she should know but does not. You’ll be able to hold her attention and allow me to ready myself and strike first. She drank your blood, taking it into her own body in order to gain new life. It’s changed her. It makes you close. Already that’s weakened her. That’s why you were able to pass through the barrier. That’s why I was able to enter this place too. We share the same blood, Tom.”
Her voice was changing now. Becoming less human. Once again, I had my doubts. I’d been tricked so many times before and was wary.
“Is it you, Mam? Is it really you?” I demanded.
“Of course it is, Tom. Who else? But I don’t blame you for doubting me. I’ve changed and continue to change. I’ve taken on many forms in my long lifetime, and now I’ll take my final one. The process is accelerating even as we speak. I’m no longer the woman I was. I remember being your mother. I remember being a wife to your father. But I’m already something different now. Don’t be sad, Tom. All things change eventually. Nothing lasts forever. All we can do is make our final moments together worthwhile.
“For much of my long life I’ve planned the destruction of the Ordeen. And now it’s almost within my grasp. You gave your blood to her—gave it bravely. That was why I brought you to my homeland. But there is one more thing you can do that might make a difference. Delay her. Buy me time. Mab will guide you to the place where she will shortly awaken. Soon I’ll use the last of my strength against her. I will hold her in a death grip. But if I succeed in doing that, you must flee the Ord immediately. Will you do that? Do you promise, Tom?”
“Leave you, Mam? How could I do that?”
“You must do it, son. You must escape. Your destiny is to destroy the Fiend. That’s what I’ve worked so long to achieve. If you die here with me, it will all have been for nothing. I’ll bind the Ordeen fast until her strength fails. Once that happens, the Ord will collapse back through the portal. It will be destroyed, and if she can’t get free, it will be the end of her, too!”
“But you’ll be destroyed as well! Is that what you’re saying, Mam?”
“Yes, it’ll be the end of me, too, but the sacrifice will be worth it. I will have achieved what I set out to do so long ago. So do you promise? Please! Let me hear you say it. . . .”
I felt shocked and full of grief. Mam was going to die here. But how could I refuse her when it would be the last thing she’d ever ask of me?
“I promise, Mam. I’m going to miss you so much. But I’ll make you proud.”
At that moment, a shaft of moonlight came through the window to illuminate Mam’s head. It was still just recognizable, but her cheekbones were higher and sharper than ever, the eyes more cruel. I could just make out the shape of her body and a little of the substance. She was crouching close to the ground. There were scales, sharp claws, folded wings. . . . Even as I watched, she was becoming less and less human, transforming before my eyes into her final Lamia shape.
“Don’t look at me, Tom! Don’t look at me! Turn away now!” Mam cried out, her voice full of pain and sorrow.
I had seen something similar to this before—and heard Mam utter those words. The Bane that had lived in the labyrinth beneath Priestown Cathedral had once afforded me a terrible vision, showing me Mam in this shape. And I remembered his exact words.
“The moon shows the truth of things, boy. You know that already. All you have seen is true and will come to pass. All it takes is time.”
The Bane had been right: I was now in a waking nightmare. It had come to pass, all right.
I hesitated, and Mam cried out again, “Go and do what I ask! Don’t let me down now! Remember who you are and that I love you!”
So I turned my back and fled the chamber, filled with an anguish of my own.
Outside, Mab gave me a triumphant little smile. “Told you she wasn’t nice to look at,” she said. “Now I’ll take you to the Ordeen.”
Trembling at what I’d seen, I followed Mab up more steps. It hurt me to think of the pain Mam was feeling and the change she was undergoing. But I had little time to dwell on that as we emerged onto a balcony with a low stone balustrade and Mab pointed at another flight of steps leading down beside it.
“There she is!” Mab hissed. “The Ordeen!”
Far below was what looked like the interior of a church; all it lacked was rows of pews. A straight aisle passed between ornate marble pillars toward a white dais, where a woman in a black silk gown reclined upon a black marble throne. Tall black candles in golden holders lined the aisle, and behind the throne were hundreds more, flames burning steadily in the still air. Beyond the pillars were shadowy alcoves in the walls, within which any manner of dangers might lurk.
I looked at the woman again. Her eyes were still closed, but she might awaken at any moment. My instincts told me that this was indeed the Ordeen.
When I turned to face her, Mab put a finger against her lips. “Keep your voice very low,” she warned softly. “She’ll soon start to stir. Go down the steps and do what your mam asked before it’s too late. Do it or none of us will get out of her
e alive.”
I realized that there was no more time for words. So, putting down my bag, I turned my back on Mab Mouldheel and started to descend the steps, trying to make as little noise as possible. Once I reached the bottom, I walked along the aisle, heading toward the black throne. Despite all my efforts, the noise of my boots echoed back loudly from the arched ceiling. I wondered if the sleeping Ordeen was guarded—I glanced right and left at the shadowy alcoves beyond the pillars, but nothing moved. There was no threat there.
The nearer I got, the more I was aware of the intimidating power of her presence; an intense cold rose slowly up my spine. Mam said that I had to do my best to hold the attention of the Ordeen until she was ready to come to my aid and destroy her enemy. But what if she attacked me on sight? So, readying myself for danger, I switched my staff from my left to my right hand, then eased my silver chain out of my breeches pocket and thrust my left hand beneath my cloak to conceal its threat.
Now that I was closer, a stench wafted toward me. The Ordeen had the appearance of a woman, but there was something of the wild animal about her—a fetid, musky odor that almost made me retch.
I halted before her throne. Her eyes were closed, and she still seemed to be sleeping. Was this my chance to strike before she awoke to her full strength? Why not use my advantage? But would any of my weapons prove effective?
Silver was usually a powerful tool against servants of the dark, but I wasn’t dealing with a mere witch—this was one of the Old Gods, a much more powerful being. Could a silver chain bind her? It seemed unlikely. My staff, with its blade forged from a silver alloy, could hurt her. But I would have to spear her heart, and she would be fast and strong. I might not get the chance. I still had the blade that Grimalkin had given me, but I’d used the dark wish. Even though Mam had understood that I’d needed it to save Alice, I’d sensed her disappointment at its loss. The blade might hurt the Ordeen, but my best chance of damaging her badly was now gone.
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