The Devil's Looking-Glass - By Mark Chadbourn Page 0,76

But you must watch yourself out there, Master Swyfte.’

CHAPTER THIRTY-ONE

THE ISLAND BROODED in the deep dark. No fires or lanterns glimmered, no voices carried, no sign of human habitation showed itself anywhere. There was only the creak of the Tempest at anchor and the wind across the waves.

Uncommonly subdued, Courtenay disappeared below deck and returned with ten of his fiercest men. Will watched the rowing boat pull away as it ferried the sailors to the shore. It disappeared into the dark, and after what seemed an age, lanterns flickered to life in a circle on the beach. He joined the last boat with Strangewayes, who would not meet his eye. ‘You must put aside your feelings until we are back aboard ship,’ Will said in a low voice. ‘Our survival could depend on us looking out for each other.’

Strangewayes did not reply.

Through the gloom they could make out white-topped waves lapping on to a small beach which led up to a dense line of trees silhouetted against the night sky. The dark beneath the canopy was impenetrable. The sweet scent of cooling vegetation drifted on the night breeze.

‘Make a fire here on the strand,’ Will ordered when he stood in the circle of lamplight. ‘It will be a beacon for us as we explore the island.’ While the men collected driftwood and dry brush from the treeline, Will clambered over the rock pools at the edge of the horseshoe-shaped cove. Though he gained a different perspective of the island, still he could see no sign of life.

Once he had glanced towards the beach to ensure he had not been followed, he crouched down and removed the obsidian mirror from his leather pouch. It felt cool and comforting in his hand. How much he had gambled, bringing such a powerful object so close to the redoubt of the Unseelie Court. And yet it had proved the source of such hope.

He laid the looking glass on a seaweed-covered rock and peered into its depths. It seemed to glow of its own accord. Long moments passed, but just as he began to lose hope the mirror clouded and Jenny appeared in the glass once more. She smiled but her eyes looked unaccountably sad.

‘You knew I was here, wishing to speak to you?’ he asked.

She nodded. ‘The mirror is powerful. It calls out to . . . to this place. And . . .’ she lowered her eyes, trying to hide the depth of her feelings, ‘I look out for you, Will. To see you again . . . after so long . . .’ She shook her head, grimacing. ‘No. I am being weak. You must ignore my words. Stay away, Will. There is too much at stake here. I am worth nothing.’

He shook his head with vehemence. ‘You are everything to me. And I will risk everything to bring you home.’ Her tears welled and she screwed up her eyes to stifle them. Will felt overwhelmed by a rush of memories, sensations and emotions: crunching through crisp gold and orange leaves in the woods with Jenny beside him; their eyes meeting at the Christmas feast amid the scent of cloves and hot, sweet wine, and the world seeming to hang though the dancers whirled around them; a kiss, on the day he left for Cambridge, thinking that surely there could be no worse pain than this parting. If only he had known.

‘I have many questions,’ he continued, aware that time was short, ‘but first: tell me, have they harmed you in any way?’

‘I am well,’ she replied, so quickly that he knew she was lying and his blood boiled.

‘Who took you, Jenny, and why?’

‘Why? Who can fathom the minds of these creatures?’ she replied in a strained voice. ‘Who?’ She paused, swallowed. ‘I was taken on the orders of Mandraxas, the King of these people, and the first of the High Family.’

‘Then he is the one who must feel the bite of my blade,’ Will replied, his voice cold. ‘One day I will find my way to you, and then—’

‘You can never do that,’ she said, her voice breaking. ‘This fortress is impregnable. High, strong walls and many guards. And to enter this land of the Fay, you must first pass through one of the gates into the place where the two worlds overlap.’

‘How will I find them?’

She sighed. ‘Will—’

‘Tell me, Jenny,’ he pressed.

‘The Unseelie Court say you will find the gates if you ever need them, though it is much harder