The Prince of Mist

by Carlos Ruiz Zafón

  ‘You’re the one I want, Jacob,’ Cain’s voice whispered in Roland’s mind. ‘If you don’t want her to die, come and get her …’

  16

  MAX WAS CYCLING THROUGH THE RAIN WHEN a bright flash of lightning startled him. It revealed the sight of the Orpheus re-emerging from the depths, glowing with a hypnotic light that emanated from her metal frame. Cain’s old ship was once more sailing across the furious waters of the bay. Max pedalled on desperately, afraid that he wouldn’t reach the beach hut in time. He’d left the lighthouse keeper behind – the old man couldn’t possibly keep up with him. When Max reached the edge of the beach, he jumped off his bike and sprinted towards Roland’s hut. He discovered that the door had been torn clean off its hinges. On the shore, he caught sight of the paralysed outline of his friend, standing spellbound as he watched the ghostly ship plough through the waves. Max thanked the heavens and ran over to embrace him.

  ‘Are you all right?’ he shouted against the howl of wind.

  Roland looked back at him, startled, like a wounded animal unable to escape its predator. Max saw in him the childish face that had held the camera in front of the mirror and he shuddered.

  ‘He’s got Alicia,’ said Roland at last.

  Max knew his friend couldn’t really understand what was going on but he felt that trying to explain it would only complicate things.

  ‘Whatever happens,’ Max shouted, ‘you have to get away from him. Do you hear me? You must get away from Cain!’

  Ignoring his words, Roland waded into the sea until the swell reached his waist. Max went after him and tried to pull him back, but Roland, who was stronger, shoved him aside and forged on into the water.

  ‘Wait!’ shouted Max. ‘You don’t know what’s happening! You’re the one he’s looking for!’

  ‘I know,’ Roland replied.

  Max watched his friend dive into the waves and surface a couple of metres further out, swimming towards the Orpheus. The wiser half of his soul begged him loud and clear to run back to the hut and hide under the bed until everything was over. As usual, Max listened to the other side and threw himself into the waves, quite sure that this time he wouldn’t make it back alive.

  *

  Cain’s long gloved fingers closed like pincers around Alicia’s wrist. The magician pulled her along the slippery deck of the Orpheus while she struggled frantically to free herself. Cain turned round and, lifting her effortlessly into the air, put his face so close to hers that the girl could see his eyes burning with anger. They changed colour from blue to gold, and his pupils dilated.

  ‘I’m not going to say this twice.’ The magician’s voice was lifeless, as cold as steel. ‘Keep still or you’ll be sorry. Understood?’

  The magician increased the pressure of his fingers. Alicia was afraid that if he didn’t stop he’d pulverise the bones in her wrist as if they were brittle clay. Realising that it was useless to oppose him, she nodded nervously. Cain loosened his grip and smiled. There was no pity or courtesy in that smile, only hatred. He let go of her and Alicia fell to the deck, hitting her forehead on the metal. She touched her skin and felt the sharp stinging sensation of an open wound. Without giving her a moment to recover, Cain grabbed her arm again and dragged her towards the bowels of the ship.

  ‘Go on,’ the magician ordered, pushing her along a corridor that led from the bridge to the cabins.

  The walls were black and covered in rust and a slimy coat of seaweed. Inside, the Orpheus was swimming in muddy water that gave off a noxious smell, and was filled with bits and pieces of debris that swayed with the rocking of the ship on the heavy swell. Cain grabbed Alicia by the hair and opened the door of one of the cabins. A cloud of gas and the stench of stagnant water that had been imprisoned for twenty-five years filled the air. Alicia held her breath. Still clutching her hair, the magician heaved her towards the door.

  ‘The best suite awaits you, my dear. The captain’s cabin for my guest of honour. Enjoy the company.’

  Cain pushed her inside and shut the heavy door. Alicia fell to her knees and felt around behind her, searching for something to cling to. It was almost pitch dark in the cabin: the only light came from a small porthole, which years of being submerged in the sea had covered with a thick, semi-transparent crust of seaweed and rotting remains. The constant rolling of the ship propelled Alicia against the cabin walls and she grabbed hold of a rusty water pipe. It took her eyes a while to adjust to the dim light, and as she struggled not to think about the penetrating odour that filled the place, she examined the cell Cain had reserved for her. There was no other exit save the door the magician had locked when he left. Alicia looked desperately for a metal bar or some other object with which she could try to force the door open, but she couldn’t find anything. As she groped around, her hands touched something that had been leaning against the wall. Alicia took a step back, startled. The unrecognisable remains of the captain of the Orpheus fell at her feet and Alicia suddenly understood who Cain had been referring to when he spoke of her ‘company’. Fate hadn’t dealt the Flying Dutchman a good hand. The roar of the stormy sea drowned out her screams.

  For every metre Roland gained in his progress towards the Orpheus, the fury of the sea sucked him underwater and returned him to the surface on the crest of a wave, engulfing him in an eddy of foam. Before him, the ship was also locked in combat, assailed by the walls of water pummelling its hull.

  As he neared the ship, the violence of the sea made it more difficult to control the direction in which he was heading and Roland feared that a sudden surge might hurl him against the hull of the Orpheus, rendering him unconscious. If that were to happen, the waters would swallow him down greedily and he would never return to the surface. Roland dived through an enormous wave towering over him and emerged in a valley of murky water as the wave rolled off towards the shore.

  The Orpheus loomed less than a dozen metres away, and when he saw the steel hull, tinted with a fiery light, he knew he would be unable to climb up to the deck. The only way in was through the gash the rocks had torn open in the hull twenty-five years before, causing the sinking of the ship. The opening was level with the waterline and appeared and disappeared with every new pounding from the waves. Strips of jagged metal surrounded the gaping hole, making it look like the jaws of some enormous beast. The very idea of entering through such a death trap terrified Roland, but it was his only chance of reaching Alicia. He struggled through the next wave and, once its crest had passed over him, he hurled himself towards the hole, shooting through it into the darkness like a human torpedo.

  *

  Victor Kray was gasping for breath as he walked along the path that led through the wild grass down to the bay. The rain and strong wind slowed him down, like invisible hands determined to hold him back. When at last he reached the beach, he saw the Orpheus in the middle of the bay swathed in spectral light. It was heading in a straight line towards the cliff. The prow of the ship plunged through the waves, the water sweeping over its deck, raising a cloud of white foam with each new shudder of the ocean. A veil of despair fell over him: his worst fears had come true and he had failed; his mind had been weakened by the passing years and, once again, the Prince of Mist had tricked him. Now, all he asked was that it wasn’t too late to save Roland. At that moment Victor Kray would happily have offered his own life if it provided Roland with even the slenderest possibility of escape. And yet he had a dark premonition that perhaps he’d already failed in the promise he had once made to the boy’s mother.

  Victor Kray walked towards Roland’s hut in the vain hope of finding him there. There was no sign of Max or of the girl, and the sight of the front door lying on the beach seemed to confirm his worst fears. Then, suddenly, he felt a glimmer of hope when he realised there was light inside the beach hut. He rushed towards it, calling out Roland’s name. The figure of a knife thrower, carved from pale stone yet alive, came out of the shadows to greet him.

  ‘It’s a bit late to start
having regrets now, Granddad,’ said the figure, and the old man recognised Cain’s voice.

  Victor Kray took a step back, but there was someone behind him, and before he was able to react, he felt a blow to the back of his neck. Darkness fell.

  *

  Max saw Roland enter the hull of the Orpheus through the breach and realised he was losing strength with each new wave. He could not compare to Roland as a swimmer and knew that he’d be unable to stay afloat much longer in the storm unless he could find some way of getting on board the ship. On the other hand, the certainty that great danger awaited them in the bowels of the vessel grew with every passing minute and Max realised that the magician was drawing them into his lair like bees to honey.

  Then came a deafening roar and Max saw a gigantic wall of water rising behind the stern of the Orpheus and approaching the ship at great speed. In a matter of seconds the impact of the gigantic wave threw the ship against the cliff face and the prow smashed into the rocks, causing a violent shock wave along the length of the hull. The mast with its navigation lights collapsed over the side of the ship, its tip plunging into the water only metres away from Max.

  Max scrambled towards it, then grabbed hold and rested a moment to get his breath back. When he looked up, he saw that the fallen mast had provided him with a kind of ladder up to the deck of the ship. Before a new wave could tear it away, Max began to climb, unaware that, leaning on the starboard rail, a motionless figure was waiting for him.

  *

  As the force of the water swept Roland through the flooded bilge, the boy protected his face with his arms against the blows dealt him by his passage through the shipwreck. He allowed himself to be carried along by the current until a sudden surge flung him against a wall, where he managed to grab hold of a small metal ladder leading to the upper part of the ship.

  Roland climbed the narrow steps, then passed through a hatch into the dark vault that housed the ruined engines of the Orpheus. He stepped over the broken machinery, reaching the passage that led up to the deck. Once there, he rushed along the corridor lined by cabins until he came to the bridge. It was a strange feeling for Roland, recognising every corner of the room and all the objects he had seen so often when he went diving. From this vantage point, Roland had a good view over the whole front deck of the Orpheus: the waves rushing over it and foaming along the platform of the bridge. Suddenly, Roland felt a tremendous force propelling the Orpheus forward and he watched in astonishment as the cliff seemed to rise up from the shadows just beyond the ship’s prow. They were going to hit the rocks.

  Roland hurriedly grabbed hold of the helm, but his feet slipped on the film of seaweed covering the floor. He stumbled and collided with the old radio, then his whole body felt the tremendous shock as the hull crashed against the cliff face. Once the worst was over, he stood up and heard a sound close by, a human voice amid the roar of the storm. The sound came again and Roland recognised it: it was Alicia screaming for help somewhere in the ship.

  *

  The ten metres Max had to climb up the mast to the deck of the Orpheus felt more like a hundred. The wood had practically rotted away and was so splintered that when he finally reached the gunwale his arms and legs were covered in small stinging cuts. He decided it was better not to stop and examine his wounds and stretched out a hand to grasp the metal rail.

  Once he’d got a good grip, he launched himself over it and fell onto the deck. A dark shadow passed before him and Max looked up, hoping to see Roland. It was Cain. The magician opened his cloak to show Max a silver object hanging on the end of a chain. The boy recognised the watch he’d lost in Jacob Fleischmann’s tomb.

  ‘Were you looking for this?’ asked Cain, kneeling next to the boy and dangling the watch in front of him.

  ‘Where’s Jacob?’ Max demanded, ignoring the mocking expression on Cain’s face, which resembled a wax mask.

  ‘That’s the question of the day,’ replied the magician, ‘and you’re going to help me answer it.’

  Cain closed his hand around the watch and Max heard the crunch of metal. When the magician opened his palm again, all that remained of his father’s present was an unrecognisable tangle of squashed cogs and screws.

  ‘Time, dear Max, doesn’t exist; it’s an illusion. Even your friend Copernicus would have guessed the truth if he’d had precisely that – time. Ironic, isn’t it?’

  Max was busy calculating whether or not it was possible to jump overboard and escape from the magician, but Cain’s white glove closed round his neck before he could take another breath.

  ‘What are you going to do with me?’ Max groaned.

  ‘What would you do with yourself if you were in my place?’

  Max felt Cain’s lethal grip cut off his breathing and the blood to his head.

  ‘It’s a good question, isn’t it?’

  The magician let go of Max, dropping him onto the deck. The impact of the rusty metal clouded Max’s vision momentarily and he was overwhelmed by sudden nausea.

  ‘Why are you pursuing Jacob?’ Max stammered, trying to gain time for Roland.

  ‘Business is business, Max; I carried out my part of the deal.’

  ‘But what can the life of one child mean to you?’ Max pleaded. ‘You’ve already had your revenge by killing Dr Fleischmann, haven’t you?’

  Cain’s face lit up, as if Max had just asked him the very question he’d been waiting to hear since the start of their conversation.

  ‘When a debt is not settled, it gathers interest. But that does not cancel the original debt. That is my rule,’ hissed the magician. ‘And it’s what I feed on – Jacob’s life and the lives of others like him. Do you know how many years I’ve been roaming around the world, Max? Do you know how many names I’ve had?’

  Max shook his head, giving thanks for every second the magician lost by talking to him.

  ‘Tell me,’ he replied in a tiny voice, feigning admiration.

  Cain smiled triumphantly. At that moment the thing Max had feared, happened. Through the noise of the storm came the sound of Roland’s voice, calling Alicia’s name. Max and the magician looked at one another; they had both heard it. The smile left Cain’s face and was immediately replaced by the expression of a bloodthirsty predator.

  ‘Very clever,’ he whispered.

  Max gulped, preparing for the worst.

  The magician opened a hand in front of him and Max watched in horror as each of his fingers melted into a long needle. Only a few metres away, Roland shouted again. When Cain turned to look behind him, Max made a dash for the side of the ship, but the magician’s claw seized him by the scruff of his neck, turning him slowly until he was standing face to face with the Prince of Mist.

  ‘A shame your friend isn’t half as clever as you are. Perhaps I should make the deal with you. Oh well … some other time,’ the magician spat. ‘See you later, Max. I hope you’ve learned to dive since our last encounter.’

  With brutal force, the magician flung Max into the air and back into the sea. The boy’s body sailed over ten metres through the sky then landed in the midst of the waves, sinking into the freezing cold water. Max struggled to rise to the surface, thrashing his arms and legs, trying to escape from the deadly current that seemed to be dragging him down into the darkness. Feeling as if his lungs were about to burst he swam blindly until finally he surfaced a few metres from the rocks. He took in some air and, in an effort to stay afloat, let the waves carry him towards the the rocky wall, where he managed to cling on to a ledge, then clamber up to safety. The sharp stones bit into his skin and Max was aware of them scraping his arms and legs, but he was so numb with cold he could barely feel the pain. Trying not to faint, he climbed up until he reached a recess among the rocks where the waves couldn’t reach him. Only then was he able to rest on the hard stone, still so frightened he couldn’t allow himself to believe he’d saved his own life.

  17

  THE CABIN DOOR OPENED SLOWLY. ALICIA, curled up in a dark corner
, held her breath and didn’t move. The Prince of Mist was outlined in the doorway and his eyes, flashing like hot coals, changed from gold to a deep crimson. Cain entered the cabin and strode over to her. Trying hard to hide the trembling that had seized hold of her, Alicia faced her visitor defiantly. The magician grinned like a dog at her show of arrogance.

  ‘It must run in the family. You’re all born heroes,’ the magician said softly. ‘I’m beginning to like you.’

  ‘What is it you want?’ asked Alicia, filling her shaky voice with all the contempt she could muster.

  Cain seemed to consider the question. Alicia noticed that his nails were long and sharp, like the tips of daggers. Cain pointed at her.

  ‘That depends. What do you suggest?’ he asked sweetly, his eyes fixed on her face.

  ‘I have nothing to give you,’ she replied, stealing a glance at the open door.

  Cain wagged a finger, guessing her intentions.

  ‘That would not be a good idea,’ he stated. ‘Let’s go back to our conversation. Why don’t we make a deal? An understanding between adults, if you see what I mean.’

  ‘What deal?’ Alicia replied, trying to avoid Cain’s hypnotic eyes, which seemed to be sucking away her willpower, a parasite feeding on her soul.

  ‘That’s what I like, so let’s talk business. Tell me, Alicia, would you like to save Jacob – sorry, I mean Roland? He’s a good-looking boy,’ said the magician, savouring every last word of his offer.

  ‘What would you want in exchange? My life?’ Alicia replied. The words came out of her mouth before she’d even had time to think.

  The magician crossed his arms and frowned, looking pensive. Alicia noticed that he never blinked.

  ‘I was thinking of something else, my dear,’ Cain explained, stroking his lower lip with the tip of his forefinger. ‘How about the life of your firstborn?’

  Cain moved towards Alicia and brought his face up close to hers, so that she could smell the sweet, nauseating stench of his breath. Looking straight into his eyes, she spat in the magician’s face.