The Devil's Looking-Glass - By Mark Chadbourn Page 0,130
the future ahead of him. Blood throbbed through his head, driving out all thoughts. And when he opened his lids, he watched a light appear in her face as if she were waking from that dream. All is illusion, and sometimes the truth is hidden, he thought with a surge of pure joy, the first he had felt in many a year. But it is here, now.
Turning back to the ranks of glowering faces, he called, ‘Our time here is done.’ He bowed deeply, flinging out his left arm with a flourish. ‘And so I bid you farewell.’
And with that, he pushed open the doors and led the others out into the dark alleys of a fortress teeming with the Enemy.
CHAPTER FIFTY-FOUR
TORCHES HISSED ON the black basalt walls. In and out of swooping shadows, six figures ghosted along the narrow, labyrinthine ways, bundling a seventh. Darkness as thick and impenetrable as the grave shrouded the spaces in between the too-small pools of light. Will ran a hand through his sweat-soaked hair, wondering how long they had before their pursuers caught them.
At a crossing of the ways, the fleeing figures pressed back into an archway as two grey sentries marched past. Once they had gone, the spies slipped by, but at every turn more Fay drifted like ghosts emerging from churchyards at dusk. Will’s chest tightened. It was only a matter of time until their escape route was discovered.
‘Can you not use the mirror to predict where these foul things lie in wait?’ Meg hissed as they huddled by a wall.
‘Without Deortha’s guidance it is useless to me,’ he replied, ‘but to keep it out of their control is victory in itself.’ He squeezed Jenny’s hand, never wanting to let it go, and she returned a wan smile, but the light of recognition gleamed in her eyes with increasing brilliance.
‘You damn yourself with each step you take,’ Mandraxas snarled. His head was pulled back, his long hair held in Launceston’s fist, his throat bared for a simple, swift slash of a blade. ‘Your agonies will be never-ending.’
‘Keep a close eye on our guest,’ Will warned the Earl. ‘Given half a chance he will violate your wits with his whispered words and turn you upon yourself, or he will use his magics to leave you nothing but a straw man ripe for the harvest bonfire.’
It was then that he noticed Carpenter. The man was tearing and scratching at his face as if insects crawled there. ‘John? Are you sick?’
‘He is well enough,’ Launceston cut in, too quickly. ‘I will watch over him. Your task is to guide us safely through this hell. Or lead us to a quick death, at worst.’
Barely had the words left his lips when the funereal tolling of a bell tore through the hot dark once again. Will felt the hairs prickle on the back of his neck.
‘The night unfolds and releases its terrors,’ Mandraxas whispered with a low laugh. ‘Run. Run.’
Across the City of Gold, they could hear the wind rising. In the high eaves and along the twisting alleyways it moaned. Doors crashed open. Feet pounded on stone. A high keening, of inhuman voices raised in anger, tugged at their ears.
‘The sands have run out, my love,’ Meg said with an edge to her voice. ‘This is no time for caution.’
Urging the others to follow, Will broke into a run, following the directions Deortha had whispered in his head. But the alleyways twisted and turned in a confusing manner, and the dark lay heavy around them.
Running feet echoed on all sides. Will could feel the rising anxiety of his friends as the activity milled closer. But just as he feared the worst, he saw the landmark he had been searching for, a golden globe spinning with no visible means of support at the centre of a small courtyard. He ran forward, only to be confronted by a high, black, featureless wall. Despairing glances darted among the others as they realized they were trapped.
Footsteps and calls echoed all around. The Unseelie Court were drawing near.
‘Why do you tarry?’ Carpenter barked. ‘Make haste before we are undone.’
Jenny squeezed Will’s hand as he scanned the length of the wall. ‘What is it you search for?’ she asked.
‘A door. Deortha told me our path of escape would begin here, at his chambers.’
‘The sorcerer has betrayed us,’ Launceston snarled, glancing back.
‘Deortha keeps his secrets well,’ Jenny said. ‘With him, nothing ever lies in plain sight.’