The flaming outline of Hal appeared in the Blue Fire, this time sharp and clear. Church had an impression of a shy young man overcome with the optimism that was spreading through them all.
‘All right, team, you’re on the last leg,’ he said. ‘Get the two Keys together, and then it’s backs to the wall for the fight to end them all.’
‘But we are still trapped in the Forbidden City with the spiders outside the walls,’ Shavi said.
‘I told you, for people like … people like us — there’s always an exit. Right, Tom?’
‘Your magic disappearing act,’ Church said. ‘That’s right. You know how to jump along the lines of earth energy, move between the nodes-’
‘No,’ Shavi cautioned, ‘it is too dangerous. I have heard tell that once you immerse yourself in the Blue it is so wondrous, so magical, you could lose yourself in there for ever.’
‘That’s right,’ Hal said. ‘The Blue is very seductive. It’s the place we all want to go home to after a hard day’s work, where we can finally rest. But you have to know there will be time enough for that later. You can free yourself from the pull of the Blue if you stay focused on your mission.’
‘It can take us straight to New York?’ Church said.
‘It can take you anywhere.’
‘Then let’s do it.’ Church turned to Tom. ‘You know how to get this thing going?’
Tom nodded, crouching next to the pool, his head bowed.
‘Church …’ Ruth began hesitantly.
‘Don’t worry. We’re going to be all right.’
‘We need to talk.’
‘When we get to New York.’
There was a whoosh as the Blue Fire swirled in a vortex. ‘Come on,’ Tom said. ‘It’s not going to stay open for ever.’
‘Good luck,’ Hal said. ‘I’ll be with you all the way. And beyond. The real journey starts here.’
Hal faded into the flames as Tom stepped into the vortex and was gone. Shavi followed.
‘Church,’ Ruth said forcefully, ‘I’m not going with you.’
In her face, he saw a glimpse of the earlier betrayal and knew the truth. ‘You’re staying with Veitch.’
‘I have to. I can’t explain now.’
‘You don’t need to.’
‘You’re right there.’ Veitch stepped from the shadows in the tunnel. Behind him, Miller cowered. ‘Bad pennies and all that.’ The black flames sucked hungrily at the Blue Fire in Caledfwlch.
‘You’re not going to take her,’ Church said.
‘She’s making the choice, mate. That’s always how I wanted it. I never wanted to force her to do anything.’
Ruth wouldn’t meet Church’s eyes.
‘See, you’re all better, just like I said.’
‘So you can try to kill me again?’
‘Nah, I just wanted to teach you a lesson. Make you feel some of the pain I felt. You see, now I’ve won. You’ve lost. Game over.’
‘It’s not over,’ Church said coldly.
‘Ooh, scary talk.’
‘Church, leave it,’ Ruth pleaded.
Veitch entered the hall and stood next to Ruth. When she didn’t move away from him, Church felt as if Veitch had stabbed him all over again.
‘I just needed you to do the dirty work, open up the path into the Blue,’ Veitch said. ‘It’s the smart way to travel.’
Church raised his sword, ready to fight until one of them died. And then Ruth did come over to him, but just as he convinced himself that she had changed her mind, she whispered, ‘Go,’ and thrust him into the vortex.
As he was whisked away into a soothing sapphire world, he saw Veitch take Ruth’s hand and prepare to follow. Still reeling from the revelation that he and the Libertarian were one and the same, this was the final blow. He wondered if disappearing into the peace of that blue world for ever might be the only way to soothe the pain.
Chapter Twelve
1
The prison stood in the shadow of the great watchtowers that flanked the entrance gate to the Court of the Soaring Spirit. In a grim city, it was the grimmest building of all, built of gargantuan blocks of stone with only a smattering of windows, each barely bigger than a hand. Even in the dark, no light escaped from it, and no sound, but a reek of damp, blood and excrement hung over all.
In an alleyway that offered some respite from the driving rain, Mallory watched. There was only one way in and out, and it was blocked by iron gates with armed guards beyond. But Jerzy was in there somewhere, and if what Mallory had heard about the Hall of Bright Beyond was true, the Mocker needed to be rescued sooner rather than later.
Nearby, an old mare whinnied and stumbled slowly through the thick mud of a roughly built pen next to a smoky shack. Picking up a coil of rope, Mallory also took a thick woollen cloak that hung in an adjoining shed and wrapped it around himself before leading the mare out of the pen. He rode the animal towards the prison, hunched low over its neck with the hood of the cloak pulled forwards to obscure his features. Anyone seeing him would have thought him wounded or dead.
The mare came to a halt at the gates. Keeping still, Mallory could hear movement beyond. Lantern light splashed across the puddles that surrounded him.
‘Move away,’ a voice barked. ‘No one is allowed to approach the Hall of Bright Beyond.’ Mallory didn’t move. The voice came again. ‘Move away or I will loose an arrow into you.’
Mallory tensed, but no attack was launched. The lock clanked and the gate creaked open. Rumbling thunder added to the deafening sound of the downpour.
The guard lifted the lantern to peer into Mallory’s hood. Reacting quickly, Mallory brought the pommel of his sword up sharply against the guard’s temple. By the time the guard hit the ground, Mallory was off the horse and had reclaimed the lantern. Dragging the guard out of sight of the gate, Mallory bound him tightly with the rope, then slipped inside the prison, pulling the gate shut behind him.
There was no sign of the other guards. A maze of foul-smelling corridors led off the keep. He was grateful for the lantern for there were no torches, and occasionally, when its light fell on the doors that lined his route, he heard pitiful cries from within.
He searched through the labyrinth for more than an hour until he caught sight of a dim red glow eking into the corridor through an open door. Faint voices rumbled through the stillness, and as he neared he heard muffled cries that were unmistakably Jerzy.
Mallory crept to the edge of the door. Beyond was a large, low-ceilinged room lit by the glow from a brazier. Straw covered the floor to soak up the blood, excrement and urine. In a rack on one wall were rows of stained, rusted tools of indeterminate use. Arms outstretched, Jerzy hung like a monkey, naked, chained by his wrists to two wooden posts. A dirty rag had been forced into his grinning mouth, and his eyes were fixed wide with horror. Numerous gouges and burns scarred his chalky body.
Two of the queen’s guards stood watch while a thin man in dirty robes and a pointed hood went about his work.
