If I had pressed any closer to the earth I would’ve sunk into it. I clutched the dead grass with sweaty hands. What the hell was I doing here? Forget the sword in the oak. I was not the right guy for this kind of work. I was a jackass to have even thought I could handle it.
“Hmm,” said the mutant rodent beside me.
I glanced up at her from the dirt. Her eyes had shifted back to the house. I followed her gaze.
Lady Betheray. She had appeared on the small balcony outside a third-floor gable window.
Seeing her there, I held my breath. I was struck to the heart again by her serene and regal femininity. She was standing as she had stood on the witness stand, very straight, very still, her hands clasped before her. She was wearing some sort of white, full-length, flowing gown, belted at the waist so that her full, soft shape pressed through the fabric. God, she was beautiful.
She gave a brief glance down at Aravist—a glance of pure disdain. Then she looked away, off into the distance to her right, as if searching the horizon for someone’s approach.
I looked too—and I saw a cloud of dust on the horizon.
“Maud!” I whispered.
The mutant rodent looked at me, then off down the road, the weird squirrelly eyes in her weird woman’s face narrowing. As if I needed something to increase my already over-brimming anxiety, I saw the line of her mouth tighten as if with fear.
“What?” I said. “What is it? What’s wrong?”
She didn’t answer.
Tense as a bowstring, I lay where I was and watched the cloud of dust move over the rim of the furthest hill. It descended swiftly along the broken road, growing closer, larger. Soon, the ghostly shape of an ornate carriage appeared within the cloud.
It was a fine vehicle, drawn by four white horses. Golden trim twined around the windows and along the edge of the roof, and there were golden shields at intervals on the sides and a golden crown on top. It had burnished brown doors with elegant paintings on them—cherubs, I think, though I couldn’t see clearly from so far away.
“That’s got to be Lord Iron, right?” I said.
Maud nodded grimly. “And Curtin.”
“The wizard? I thought he could only work in the city.”
“He’s strongest in the city, but we’re not very far away.”
“You sure it’s him?”
Another grim nod. “The driver.”
I turned from her fearful face to watch the carriage pull up before the mansion door, its horses straining and whinnying in their traces. Sure enough, there was Curtin. He was sitting up in the driver’s seat, the reins in his hands. He was unmistakeable in his flowing robe of liquid darkness, with his wizened little raisin face sporting its tufts of white hair on the crown and at the chin. From where I was, I couldn’t make out the glittering eyes in the folds of his wrinkles, but I remembered their wicked gleam.
“Iron must have a reason for bringing him here,” Maud said. “And not a good one.”
The next moment, Lord Iron stepped out of the carriage. I could see his light hair capping his broad, virile figure. Curtin descended from the high seat, his dark robe swirling. Both men stepped up to greet Sir Aravist.
I glanced from them up to the third-floor balcony. Even as far away as we were, and even with the afternoon shadows bathing her, I saw Lady Betheray’s pale cheeks grow paler. It was the sight of Curtin. She was afraid of him.
She stared down at the men below her for a long moment. Then she swiveled around quickly and vanished into the house.
“What are they going to do to her?” I asked Maud.
But the mutant rat-girl only shook her head.
The two guards who had searched the perimeter of the house now returned to the front door. All five of the men went into Netherdale. I could hear the door of the house shut behind them. For the first time since we’d arrived, I felt a fear even greater than my fear for my own safety.
“I have to go down there,” I said.
Maud snorted at me with disdain. “What do you think you can do?”
“I don’t know.”
“Then what’s the point?”
“Well … Jesus, you’re the one who’s always rolling your eyes at me.”
“Because look at you.”
“Okay,” I said. “So now I’m, you know, going to do something.”
“Yes. You’re going to get yourself killed.”
“Well …”
“Well, don’t expect me to wait around for you,” she said angrily.
“I don’t,” I said. “Go.”
“Don’t think I won’t.”
“Go ahead.”
“I will.”
I got to my feet.
“This is ridiculous,” Maud said. “I don’t care who Tauratanio thinks you are …”
But I was already moving toward the mansion.
I BENT LOW and traveled quickly. I used the trick I had learned down in the sewers where the Shit Monster lived. I focused beyond my fear. I kept hidden among the high weeds as much as I could.
I reached the garden surrounding the house. It was a haunted place, or felt like one. The stems of dead flowers and branches of leafless shrubs wafted and waved around me like phantoms in the lengthening shadows. The plants did not seem to have died a natural death but to have been sucked lifeless by some toxic something or other in the local earth and air. As their cold, dead tendrils and spines snatched at my arms and legs in passing, I lost my concentration. I suddenly had this sure, clear sense that something terrible was about to happen.
But I reached the house without being seen—at least, I thought I had. I went to the far right corner and pressed as close to the wall as I could, hoping with all my heart that I was out of sight of the windows.
I’m not sure what I was planning exactly. I had some vague and stupid idea of grabbing Betheray and making a run for it. My stallion ought to be able to outrace their carriage, right?
But how the hell was I going to get to her?
I craned my neck to look up at the looming, frowning, soulless house. Ivy grew thick and heavy down the walls, twining over the brick facing that capped the corner. It was old growth, the vines stout and deeply entrenched in the stone. I thought maybe it would hold my weight if I tried to climb it—hold me long enough, anyway, for me to grab onto the ledges and gargoyles that jutted out from the second floor upward.
I was never much of an athlete. Climbing? I was always the guy who couldn’t shimmy up to the top of the ropes in the high school gym. Girls with arms like twigs used to scramble by on the other ropes around me. They would slap the ceiling and slide down while I was still twisting and dangling at the halfway mark.
But there was no other way to get to Betheray without being seen, so I went for it.
The next few seconds—well, they were harrowing. My muscles ached and strained as I pulled myself up the vine hand over hand. The ivy creaked and rattled like an antique car on a gravel road. I felt sure one of the guards inside would hear it. The cold stone scraped against my bare forearms and my face. The whole house seemed to hang over me like a movie monster, claws upraised. Only that sense that something terrible was about to happen kept me from giving up and letting go.
I reached the second floor. One more pull—and then one more—and then I reached up, stretched my fingers, and—yes!—I seized hold of the jutting ledge above me. From there, I managed to get my knees onto it and grab the next ledge and get my knees on that. Then, balanced precariously, I reached up and grabbed the dragon gargoyle above my head. Holding on to the stone beast’s neck, I stretched my free arm out until I could grab the rail of the balcony where Betheray had stood moments before. I grabbed with one hand then with the other.
And my knees slipped off the ledge.
A split second of terror—the earth spinning under me—my hands on the rail, my feet dangling. Then, with the strength of fear, I scrambled up and spilled down onto the balcony.
Through the glass of the doors, I ca
ught one glimpse of the room inside: a spacious bedroom with a large four-poster in it. I saw Lady Betheray, lit by the light of two candles, kneeling at the sculpted wooden prayer desk on which the candles burned. Her hands were clasped beneath her chin, her valentine face was turned toward heaven, her raven hair spilled down behind her. She looked like a saint about to be martyred.
Then the lady turned to the door. Leapt to her feet. I pulled back quickly against the wall to hide myself from view.
It was Lord Iron. He had come marching into the bedroom with the evil little wizard guy scuttling after him.
I pressed close to the balcony wall and listened. I could hear their voices clearly through the glass doors.
“I’ve disturbed you at your prayers, my dear. I’m so sorry.” That was Iron. He didn’t sound sorry at all.
“What’s the meaning of this, Winton?” That was the lady. “Am I your prisoner here? Is that it?”
“My prisoner? Of course not. Don’t be ridiculous. You’re my beloved wife.”
“Then why do you …? Keep him away from me.”
“He only wants to help you.”
“I know what he wants. He uses his power to cloud my mind and shape my will.”
“Shouldn’t a wife’s will be shaped to her husband’s?”
“Not by demon magic. Is that what he did to Kata? Put a spell on her? To make her accuse Austin Lively?”
“You’re confused. You don’t know what you’re talking about.”
“No. No, now my mind is finally clear. It wasn’t Austin I saw with Kata in the maze that night at all, was it? I remember now. It was you.”
There was a long, ominous silence. A chill autumn wind blew off the blasted heath below me. It washed over me where I hid in the afternoon shadows. It made me shudder where I stood pressed against the cold stone.
Lord Iron spoke again, his voice thick with bitterness and sarcasm. “My poor, fine, noble, loyal, and ever-so-moral wife. Who was the first of us to commit adultery?”
“I never did.”
I stiffened as I heard the sound of a sharp slap. Until then, I had felt nothing but fear. Fear for myself, fear for her. But now a raw fury washed the fear away. I had never felt anything like it before, not since I was a child anyway. Like a child, I wanted to jump through the window and strangle the man. Like a child, I was helpless. I stayed where I was.
“Liar,” Iron said. “You think I don’t know? You played the whore with Lively.”
Lady Betheray’s voice was thick with shock and with tears. “I wanted to. I should have. He’s ten times the man you are. But I said my marriage vows before God.”
“Oh! God!” Lord Iron laughed, as if it was the stupidest word he’d ever heard in his life.
Then—a shuffling movement.
“No!” Lady Betheray cried out, half in fear, I thought, but half in anger too.
Then another man spoke. I knew right away that it was Curtin, the wizard. More than the wind that blew across me, the sound of that voice chilled me to my bones. I had never heard a tone of such dead malevolence. It wasn’t violent or threatening or cruel in any way. Just malevolent. Just dead.
“Look at me, my lady. Don’t be afraid. Don’t be foolish. You know you can’t fight me.”
“I can. I will,” she said. “I was confused before by Kata’s lies. I thought Austin had betrayed me and that made me weak. But now—I know you can’t control me if I won’t let you.”
There was another long silence. I could feel the struggle of wills going on beyond the doors, Lady Betheray trying to shield her mind from the hypnotic power of the wizard, the wizard trying to wear away her defenses. I could imagine the two fields of energy pushing against one another, vying for supremacy.
Then: “Damn you!” This was Lord Iron again, angry now. “Never mind, Curtin. It doesn’t matter. I don’t care whether you believe me anymore, my lady. I only need you to be here. To draw him. You’re nothing but bait to me now.”
“He won’t come. He saw me betray him at the trial.”
“That’s exactly why he will come. To set you right. He loves you. He needs you to know he didn’t betray you. He’ll come. And when he comes, we’ll have him—and this will be over. And I’ll have no more need of you.”
There was a pause. A sound of motion. Iron was leaving—Iron and Curtin both, I thought. I heard Lady Betheray call after them.
“He won’t come. He won’t.”
But there was no answer. And the moment after that, I heard her give a wild cry of despair. She began sobbing miserably as if something had broken inside her.
I understood. She must have realized that what Lord Iron said was true. She must have realized that I would come, that I would walk right into her husband’s trap to try to save her.
She was right. I would.
LADY BETHERAY WENT ON SOBBING. I WANTED TO GO to her then and there, but I remained where I was until I heard the door of the house open below me. Quickly, I crouched down to hide myself beneath the balcony wall. I heard footsteps on the dusty drive.
“He’ll be here, I’m sure of it,” Lord Iron said. “I’ll leave the rest to you—best if I’m nowhere near. Just make sure it’s Lively who takes the blame.”
Sir Aravist answered him with an easy drawl, “My lord.”
I waited, crouched there. Waited. I heard the carriage take off, the horses’ hooves pounding against the earth. Still I waited. Silence below. Sir Aravist must’ve been standing in the drive, watching the carriage go. A few more seconds of waiting and I heard his footsteps as he returned to the house. I heard the front door open and close.
This was it. This was my moment. My only moment, probably. The time was short—very short. I had to move.
I sprang up. I stepped to the balcony doors. They weren’t locked. I pushed them open and stepped out of the chilly day into the shadows of the candlelit bedroom.
There was Lady Betheray. She lay sprawled on the bed, her face buried in her arms, her sobs loud and violent.
How long before Sir Aravist and his men came up to check on her? Minutes? Seconds?
“Betheray,” I said.
Her sob caught on a startled gasp. She lifted her head and saw me. She leapt to her feet.
“Austin! My darling!”
She threw herself into my arms.
It was an impossible moment. Intoxicating. Surreal. I knew we had to go—we had to go now, right now. But I couldn’t move from her embrace. It was too good, too full. I couldn’t leave it.
I held her, surrounded by her scent, swimming in her softness, my cheek pressed against the velvet smoothness of her hair. My whole body was enveloped in such a cloud of longing, it went beyond the erotic into an almost holy devotion.
And more than that. More than that. Bizarrely, in that moment, there were other moments too, memories I had not lived through, cherished experiences I did not know I’d had. I caught glimpses of shared glances. I heard whispers of whispered secrets. I could half-remember her half-pulling away from me, resisting my desire in the name of her vows.
It was crazy, like one of those crazy quantum things you read about on science blogs where phenomena only exist when you’re there to observe them. Lady Betheray and I had had a whole relationship that hadn’t actually taken place until now, when I remembered it. A great passion I’d never felt. A grand endeavor I hadn’t been there for. A whole dangerous conspiracy of good against evil, a mission for the sake of the country and the queen that had brought us together in a past where I’d never been.
I did not remember falling in love with her, but I knew I had. I had not lived it, but suddenly I remembered it. Maybe some Great Observer in the Sky had seen it all from the beginning, but I was only coming to it in this moment, in this embrace.
I knew we had to go, but still I didn’t go. I went on holding her, feeling our whole fantastic history coming to life inside me for the first time.
At last, she drew back slightly. She tilted her tearstained face up to me.
The sight of it filled me with something I had never felt before: a fever to fight, to fight for her, even to die for her. She had told Lord Iron I was ten times the man he was. Just then, and for the first time in my life, I felt I was ten times any man.
“Can you ever forgive me?” she whispered.
“Ssh. We have to go.”
“Tell me, Austin. Tell me you don’t hate me for what I said in court. I was under a spell …”
I let out a laugh. Hate her? I kissed her. I thought kisses like that were just in the movies. I whispered again, “We have to go.”
“Aravist has his men guarding the stairs.”
I looked around me. “We’ll go out through the balcony, then. Come on. We’ll find a way down.”
Finally—finally—I worked up the will to push her gently away from me.
That’s when I saw Sir Aravist standing in the doorway.
Crap, I thought.
AMAZING HOW QUICKLY all that romantic courage turned to steam and flew away. I remembered what Maud had said: Aravist was deadly with a sword. I remembered how fast he’d drawn his blade and struck me down in the tower room—so fast I’d hardly seen it.
I was unarmed. And even if I had been armed—unless I was armed with, like, a .38—I would’ve been no match for him, no match for anyone.
It occurred to me again—occurred to me with a wave of nausea—that I was a fool to have come here, an unrealistic idiot. I was not the guy for this fight, or for any fight. What was I going to do now?
Sir Aravist stepped forward. His thumbs were hooked arrogantly in his sword belt. He was smiling. Utterly relaxed. Well, why wouldn’t he be?
Instinctively, I pushed Lady Betheray behind me. Aravist snorted to see it. Sure he did. What the hell good was that going to do her? How was I going to stop him?
“Not even armed, Lively?” he said. “You might have brought a sword just to make it entertaining.”
“Look, let me get her out of here,” I said. The words came out almost before I thought them. “That’s all I want. Let her go and then you’ve got me.”
Another Kingdom Page 17
