dissipating yet still alive, still calling out in that incomprehensible whine. The flood of white crystals frosted the rain pools in the courtyard. Barely able to believe what he was seeing, Strangewayes watched as the man sank to his knees, which melted away to leave the torso flailing from side to side, until finally only a crumbling face peered up from the wet stone, still crying.
When that too was gone, Strangewayes reeled out of his sickened trance. Shadows whirled in the rainswept night, the remnants of the shore party fighting with le Gris’s decaying crew. The spy watched one of the
‘They need our aid,’ he protested.
‘Set aside feelings and be cold. We have work to do,’ Launceston replied.
Struggling to ignore the cries of the dying, Strangewayes reminded himself that returning Dee to London was all that mattered; all their lives meant nothing in the pursuit of that aim. Then le Gris emerged from the dark, and three other grey pirates followed, one missing an arm, another an eye.
‘Once your entrails hang from my sword, I can claim the treasure I have been promised,’ le Gris yelled above the cacophony of the storm. He levelled his rapier, daring one of the spies to confront him.
Carpenter broke away from the others and leapt to cross swords with the French pirate. ‘The Unseelie Court jangle shiny things in front of weak men, but they are as insubstantial as rainbows,’ the spy said with a vehemence that puzzled Strangewayes. ‘They can never be reached and men waste a lifetime trying.’
Le Gris only laughed. As the two men danced around each other, thrusting and parrying in the downpour, Strangewayes glimpsed a figure bearing down upon him. Spinning, he swung up his rapier just as a dead pirate hacked with its own blade. A dull ache burned in his shoulder from the force of the walking corpse’s blow. Choking on the stink of decaying flash, he easily sidestepped the next thrust. Yet what the thing lacked in expertise it made up for with untiring force. The unblinking face loomed closer, ragged lips hanging off clenched teeth, fat white maggots at play on exposed cheek flesh. When the spy pierced the heart for a second time, he grasped the futility of his strategy. Before he could find another approach, he saw Carpenter slip to one knee on the wet stone. Defenceless, the other man could only look up as a leering le Gris levelled his rapier for the killing stroke.
Without a second thought, Strangewayes dropped his own defence and parried le Gris’s thrust. He sensed the dead pirate swing for his neck, and screwed his eyes shut in the certain knowledge that his life was over. When the blow failed to strike, he looked round to see Meg whisking her dagger back as the pirate’s entrails splashed into the puddles. Sweeping an arm out, the Irish woman gave Strangewayes a theatrical bow.
Carpenter recovered and thrust his blade into le Gris’s thigh. The pirate howled in agony and staggered away, blood seeping between his fingers as he clutched his leg. Brushing back his wet hair from his pink scars, Carpenter turned to Strangewayes and gasped, ‘I owe you my life.’
‘And I owe mine to . . . her,’ Strangewayes replied, masking his irritation that the woman he loathed had saved him. ‘We keep no score here.’
‘Very well,’ Carpenter replied, looking round. Two other bodies lay writhing in black pools. Launceston loomed over them, his sword dripping gore and a hungry gleam in his eyes as he examined each man in turn.
‘You have done your work there, Robert,’ Carpenter called with a weary shake of his head. ‘Let it be.’
The four spies backed against the wet stone of the tower. One by one, the cries of the dying seamen ebbed away beneath the howl of the storm until no human voice remained. Strangewayes squinted, trying to pierce the night. He saw misshapen heaps that had once been human, innards turned to straw or faces twisted into twirls of blackthorn, all the monstrous work of the Fay. He felt sickened by the atrocities committed by their Enemy. Beyond the bodies, grey shapes flitted like moon-shadows. The Unseelie Court began to creep forward.
‘Stand firm, lads,’ Meg called, twirling her dagger. ‘We’ll show them some cold steel before we take our bows.’
Strangewayes gritted his teeth and thought of Grace, until the rattle of a bolt at his back distracted him. A door that he could have sworn was not there before swung open at the base of the tower. A torch flared in the dark interior.
‘Better late than never,’ Swyfte said with a grin. ‘Step lively now. This door will not hold them off for long.’
CHAPTER THIRTY-SIX
SHADOWS SWARMED AWAY from the hissing torch flame as Will bounded up the worn steps two at a time. At bay beyond the thick walls, the storm was barely more than a susurration. The other spies followed, their breath rasping. ‘They will keep coming,’ Strangewayes wheezed, his gaze downcast. ‘They always do. Always. Nothing can hold them back.’
‘Let us hear no signs of weakness.’ Launceston had an edge in his voice.
Will felt relieved to see they had all survived, though from their drawn faces he could tell they had all fought hard. He would have liked to know the fate of the sailors who had accompanied them, but decided that question could wait. Constantly glancing back in case Dee’s twisted creation, the Mooncalf, attacked, he had taken what seemed like an eternity to navigate the tower’s vertiginous and winding steps and he had feared the worst. ‘Yes, like the tides they come and they come, but they have not overwhelmed us,’ he said with determination. ‘We must use our wits and our guile to stay one step ahead, and soon the time will come when the tide will be turned.’ After travelling half the world, he could scarce believe they were so close to their goal. He would not allow the Fay to stop him laying claim to Dee at this late stage.
‘Such fine swordsmen have nothing to fear from any Enemy. Why, your prowess melts a woman’s heart,’ Meg teased, but her next words were edged with caution. ‘But the alchemist will have protected himself. If he hides in the highest room in the tower, he will be unreachable. In his madness and fear of attack, his mind has turned in these past years to fiendish traps which he has secreted on the approach to his chamber.’
‘Dee’s inventions were mad even when he professed to sanity,’ Carpenter muttered. ‘How can we outwit such a man?’ He paused, then added, ‘Strangewayes, you should lead the way.’
The younger spy glowered, but said nothing.
Will threw up his left arm to halt the others, cocking his head as he listened. Whispers floated all around, sounding like the voices of the dead piercing the thin veil between their world and his own. When he realized the eerie voices came and went with the strength of the draught whistling down the steps, he raised the torch to reveal carvings of grotesque faces following the curve of the wall just above their heads. Small holes had been fashioned in them. As they caught the air currents, they produced the unsettling whispers.
‘In our first years here, Dee spent some time attempting to discover who built this place.’ Meg’s deep, sing- song voice drowned out the ghosts. ‘Gods or Fay or men, he never found his answers, but they left many wonders behind.’
Will began to climb once more, torn between caution towards what lay ahead and haste from what was behind them. ‘Watch our backs, Robert,’ he said to Launceston. ‘If you have even the slightest suspicion the Enemy are coming up, sing out.’
As they climbed, the bare walls became covered with faded tapestries or shelves of mouldering tomes, muffling the echoes of their tread. They passed bolted doors hiding silent chambers. Strange scents drifted on the dry air, some sweet and spicy, others with a bitter tang, but Will could smell no hint of any man. Just as he was beginning to wonder if Dee had hidden himself away somewhere else, he was confronted by a flare of light and a dark figure. It was his own reflection in a gilt-edged mirror that filled the width of the passage.
‘The way is barred?’ Strangewayes asked. ‘Have we wasted our time?’ He turned his narrowing eyes on Meg.
Her brow creased. ‘No. Dee told me another chamber lay at the top of the tower.’
Will traced his fingertips across the smooth, cold surface of the glass and after a moment gently applied pressure. A click echoed and the mirror pivoted to reveal a space a sword’s length square bounded by three more mirrors. On the low, vaulted ceiling, more twisted faces whispered their unsettling entreaties. ‘It seems,’ he said with a hint of a smile, ‘we are now playing Dr Dee’s game.’
As the five spies pressed into the tight space, the mirror pivoted shut behind them. Launceston pressed his shoulder against it, but it held fast.
‘Trapped,’ Carpenter grumbled.
