He felt calm, as if this was the moment of decision. If he died here he could never have been Giles. If he was meant to live he would live. Stupid, Keiro would say.
But it made him feel strong.
And as the Pretender’s finger clicked back on the trigger he felt its answer deep in his mind, as if a cascade of images was shifting and unlocking.
‘Giles! No!’ He didn’t know which of them Claudia’s scream was for.
But neither of them were looking at her when Giles fired.
It was a huge Eye and it was brilliantly red.
For a moment Attia thought it was the dragon of the old story, its head low, staring at her, and then she saw that it was the opening of a cave, that outside it a fiery light burnt.
She picked herself up, and stared at Keiro.
He looked terrible, just as she must; wet, ragged, bruised.
But the water had made his hair yellow again; he slicked it back and said, ‘1 must have been crazy bringing you.’ She limped past him, too weary to even care any more.
The cave was a red velvet chamber, perfectly circular, with seven tunnels leading out of it. In the centre of the room, cooking something over a small bright fire, a man sat with his back to them. He had long hair, and wore a dark robe, and he didn’t turn.
The meat crackled, its smell fabulous.
Keiro glanced at the hastily-rigged tent, the gaudy stripes, the small wheeled cart where a cyber-ox chewed something green and soggy. ‘No,’ he said. ‘Impossible’ He stepped forward, but the man said, ‘Still with your handsome pal then, Attia?’ Her eyes widened with shock.
She said, ’Rix?’
‘Who else? And how did I get here? By the Art Magicke, sweetie He turned, and gave his sly gap-tooth grin. ‘Did you really think I was just some backstreet conjuror?’ He winked, and leant forward, sprinkling some dark dust on the flames.
Keiro sat. ‘I don’t believe this.’
‘Believe it.’ Rix stood. ‘Because I am the Dark Enchanter, and now I enchant you both into magic sleep.’ Smoke was billowing from the fire, sweet and cloying.
Keiro jumped up and stumbled, and fell. Darkness entered Attia’s nose, her throat, her eyes.
It took her hand, and led her into silence.
Finn felt the bullet pass his chest like a crack of lightning.
Instantly he raised his pistol, and pointed it straight at Giles’s head. The eagle mask tilted.
From the clock tower the chimes of midnight began; Claudia, gasping for breath, couldn’t move, even though she knew the Queen would be announcing the verdict right now.
‘Finn. please,’ she whispered.
‘You never believed me.’
‘I believe you now. Don’t shoot him.’ He smiled, his eyes dark under the black mask. His finger clicked the trigger steadily back.
Giles stumbled away.
‘Keep still,’ Finn growled.
‘Look.’ The Pretender spread his hands. ‘We can make a deal.’
‘Sia chose well. But you’re no prince.’
‘Let me go. I’ll tell them. Explain everything.’
‘Oh I don’t think so.’ The trigger trembled.
‘I swear . . .’
‘Too late,’ Finn said, and fired.
Giles crashed back on to the grass with a speed that made Claudia screech; she ran to him and knelt over him. Finn came up and stood gazing down. ‘I should have killed him,’ he said.
The bullet had struck the Pretender’s arm; it hung broken, and the impact had knocked him senseless. Claudia turned.
A great hubbub was rising from the lit grotto; dancers were running out tearing off their masks, unsheathing swords.
‘His coat,’ she hissed.
Finn hauled him up and they stripped the silk coat from him; Finn shrugged his own off and struggled into the other.
As he fitted the eagle mask over his face Claudia tugged the dark coat and mask on to the Pretender. ‘Keep the pistol,’ she hissed as the soldiers came racing up.
Finn grabbed her and held the pistol to her back as she swore and struggled.
The guard dropped to one knee. ‘Sire, the verdict has been given.’
‘What was it?’ Claudia gasped.
The guard ignored her. ‘You indeed are Prince Giles.’ Finn gave a harsh laugh that made Claudia stare at him. I know who I am.’ His breath came harsh from inside the eagle’s beak. ‘This Scum from the Prison is wounded. Take him and throw him in some cell. Where is the Queen?’
‘In the ballroom …’
‘Stand aside.’ Leading Claudia like a prisoner he stalked off towards the lights. Once out of earshot he muttered, ‘Where are the horses?’
‘At Shear’s Folly.’ He dropped her arm, threw the pistol into the grass, and took one look back at his lost, enchanted palace. Then he said, ‘Let’s go.’
What Key Unlocks the Heart
22
… deep forests and dark lanes. A Realm of magic and beauty. A land like those in legends.
Lightning flickered.
It blinked silently across the sky, lighting the underside of the ominous clouds, and Jared pulled the nervous horse to a halt.
He waited, counting the seconds. Finally, when the weight of tension seemed almost too heavy to bear, the rumble broke; it thundered across the sky above the Forest, as if a being of enormous anger raged over the treetops.
The night was close, sticky with humidity. The reins in his hands creaked, the soft leather greasy with sweat. He leant forward over the horse’s neck, breathing painfully, every bone in his body aching.
At first he had ridden recklessly, afraid of pursuit, turning off the road on to obscure forest tracks, anything that led west, towards the Wardenry. But now, after hours, the track had dwindled to this narrow foxtrail, the undergrowth so matted it brushed his knees and the horse’s flank, raising a rank smell of trampled weeds and the decay of centuries of leaves.
He was deep in the Forest, there was no way of seeing the stars, and though he wasn’t really lost — he always carried a small way-finder — there was no way on from here. The ground was broken with streams and slopes, the darkness intense. And the storm was coming.
Jared rubbed the horse’s mane. He would have to backtrack to the streatn. But he was so tired, and the pain
