He came to a halt before his mother's tomb. The newest and most extravagant monument, pale marble cut with gold letters, it seemed to glow in the sparse light. A statue of his mother rested atop the tomb, but she was unlike the other sleeping figures. Her pale marble face was beautiful and serene. Beneath a coronet, her long hair looked soft enough to touch, and the marble beneath her was fashioned into folds to form a welcoming bed.
He turned away, feeling a pang of guilt. Though he hardly remembered her, he knew she would not approve of the endless arguments with his father or what he was doing now. But he reassured himself that helping St Andre with such a trivial request could hardly matter to Chamfort. Mayor Arno was annoying but unimportant. He had no power outside the town. He was no threat to Chamfort, nor Charles and his plans.
####
Remy hesitated outside the chapel door, aware it was not wise to enter. But he was enjoying the chase too much to give it up. He stepped cautiously through the open door. A glance showed the chapel was empty. It was a good moment to turn back, but still he hesitated. There was only one place Sieur Edouard could have gone, the family crypt cut from the caves beneath the chapel.
Remy made his way to the stone steps that led down to the crypt. He stood listening for a moment. Silence. He half turned back but, caught up in the adventure, he was unwilling to let it end. Quietly, he crept down the first few steps. He listened again and heard nothing. With a glance over his shoulder, he descended.
At the bottom of the steps, he paused. The tunnel lay ahead. Shadows flickered across the rough walls. Remy felt his eyes sting from the smoke of torches. Suddenly he was jarred by a moment's panic. This was a private place; Sieur Edouard would not be pleased to find a squire dogging his steps here. Remy could hear movement beyond the tunnel and, guilty at his intrusion, he turned to make his way back to the chapel. He started up the steps with even greater care. In the silence, he heard a noise. Footsteps echoed close above his head; someone had entered the chapel after him and was about to descend to the crypt.
Frightened now, for the embarrassment and trouble this adventure might bring him, Remy turned and ran quietly down the stairs. He stood at the tunnel entrance, fighting panic. There was nowhere to hide; he could only follow the tunnel or be discovered. Desperate, he crept forward, hoping he might enter the crypt chamber unnoticed and hide there until whoever followed passed by. The tunnel floor sloped steeply downward, rough and uneven, hindering his efforts to be silent. Holding his jacket in one hand, he pressed close to the wall as it curved round to the left, uncertain of his footing in the gloom. Ahead, a change in the light marked the entrance to the main chamber. Creeping forward, Remy saw Sieur Edouard standing among the shadows at the far side.
The footsteps descending the steps came closer. Trapped, Remy had no choice. He scurried into the shadows, pressing close behind one of the stone pillars.
####
Edouard sighed, the presence of his mother's tomb strong at his back. It was too late now; the hour set for the meeting had arrived. He glanced around impatiently, wondering why St Andre had not yet arrived. The Mayor would be here soon. Arno was careful of his dignity. He would not be pleased to be kept waiting, even by the Marechal. At the sound of footsteps, Edouard turned. He watched as a figure emerged from the shadows.
Mayor Arno was scrupulously punctual. He came forward quickly, a man of middle height with neat brown hair and a heavy figure. His inquisitive gaze swept the crypt.
"Good day, Sieur Edouard, this is a dark place for a conversation on such a lovely day."
"Mayor Arno, it is good of you to come," he said politely. "I hope we have caused you no inconvenience."
"Your request required the rearrangement of some important meetings, but I must admit your message engaged my curiosity." The Mayor was looking around. "A secret meeting, most intriguing." He gave a short laugh. "So, Sieur Edouard, I have followed your instructions and told no-one. What is this about?"
"I'm afraid I cannot tell you," Edouard admitted, managing to sound regretful rather than annoyed at being questioned in such a manner. "I am acting for the Marechal St Andre. He will be here soon."
"You have brought me here on false grounds?" The Mayor's smile was gone. He was always quick to take offence at any perceived slight. "If so, that is quite unacceptable. If not, please explain your business at once."
The reaction seemed extreme, but beyond the usual bluster, Edouard sensed a thread of nervousness. This was so stupid he did not bother to hide his contempt. "I'm sure a meeting with the King's first general is something you can spare time for. The Marechal will be here shortly. When he arrives, he will tell you what he wants." The Mayor was staring round as if there was something to be afraid of. It was both annoying and insulting.
"I will not wait." The Mayor turned on his heel. "Your father will hear of this."
"Wait." Edouard moved quickly, ducking between the tombs to intercept him. Outflanking him easily, he blocked the Mayor's path.
The Mayor retreated a few steps and opened his mouth to protest, but before he could, a sudden breeze swirled through the crypt. The touch of icy air against his skin made Edouard shiver. A few strides away, the Mayor stumbled. A moment later he cried out, hands clutched to his belly. Edouard watched, amazed at this strange behavior. Then he saw blood welling beneath the Mayor's fingers.
He reached for his sword but, unbelievably, his fingers fumbled the grip as a whisper of sound distracted him. The air was cold now, and the whisper of sound became a chant that grew louder with every moment. It echoed beneath the low ceiling, filling his head, pounding with his heart, robbing him of thought and will. Then the shadows began to move. Frozen by the chant's power, he saw them gather. He watched as they took shape, forming a creature with the frame of a man but without substance.
This creature of shadow moved, gliding forward. Helpless, he watched it approach. As it drew nearer, the chant became a pulse of pain and terror inside his head. As the shadow brushed close, his throat closed. He could not breathe. Its touch was ice, the chill of death. When it passed, he could breathe and see again. But that was little relief; he watched the shadow reach the place where Mayor Arno lay moaning, hands clutched to stem the blood welling from his gut.
As the shadow approached, the Mayor screamed, raising bloodied hands to ward the creature off. The darkness swirled around him, until his struggles were lost beneath a mantle of living shadow. He screamed again and again.
Edouard could do nothing. The chant held him frozen, helpless as the marble figures atop the tombs. He watched as the shadows settled close around the Mayor's struggling body.
A movement on the far side of the crypt dragged his gaze from this horror. He watched as a boy, in the livery of a Chamfort squire, backed towards the tunnel and turned to run. Intent on their victim, the shadows did not notice him. On the verge of calling out, Edouard held back a shout for help that might prevent the boy's escape.
A cry of torment dragged his unwilling gaze back to Mayor Arno. As he watched, the Mayor's struggles and cries ceased and the chant seemed to ebb with them. Edouard found he could think again. It took all his strength to draw his sword and all his courage to take a step forward. Another step and he was close enough. The shadow was intent on its victim. Without thought, Edouard thrust at the creature. As the sword pierced the shadow, ice formed along the blade. With a hiss of rage, the creature turned towards him. For a moment, he saw the terrible outline of a face. Before he could move, the shadow touched him.
He felt an aching cold; it took his strength in a heartbeat. The touch of death. Edouard cried out in agony. His sword fell, clattering to the floor. The shadow swept him up and cast him aside, tossing him effortlessly across the crypt. He crashed back against a tomb. His head cracked against the stone and he dropped to the floor, sliding into blackness.
Chapter 20
Remy ran for his life. The tunnel seemed unending. In his panic, he stumbled on the uneven floor and fell hard agains
t the wall. He glanced back, terrified that he was pursued, expecting a nightmare vision of shadow. The tunnel lay empty behind him. He scrambled to his feet and ran for the stairs, leaping up them two at a time his hands scrabbling against the walls. The chapel was still and silent. His boots echoed loud across the stone as he bolted for the door.
Outside, he paused to stare around. Heart pounding, he tried to think. Where could he go? Who could he trust? After what he had seen, it was an impossible question. Fear of the shadow drove him to run. He sprinted across the grass and ducked behind the first of the tall hedges. Then he kept running deeper into the gardens. He could not tell if he was pursued. When he tried to look back, he tripped and fell, sliding headlong across the grass. For a moment, he lay winded and shocked, until the sudden, loud screech of a bird brought him to his feet.
Desperate to get as far from the chapel and Chamfort as possible, he crossed the gardens heading for an old oak tree near the perimeter wall. The tree was known to all the squires; its branches stretched across the walls, providing an illicit exit from the grounds. After a quick look around, he scrambled up the trunk and worked his way along a thick branch until he was over the meadow beyond. He dropped to the grass outside the wall.
The meadow sloped downhill from the chateau walls to the dark edge of the Chamfort woods. To the right, the river cut between the meadow and the town. Remy ran for the woods, gathering speed as he raced down the hill. Near the bottom, he tripped and tumbled to the ground, rolling over and over until he fetched up close to the trees. He scrambled to his feet and hurried beneath the sheltering trunks.
It was some time before he dared creep to the edge of the woods and look back to the chateau. His gaze found nothing unusual. The pale chateau glittered high above the river gorge. From this side, the walls rose seamless and smooth, climbing straight from the cliffs. Where the cliff ended, the long curtain wall cut across the meadows. As Remy watched, nothing moved on the hillside. The main gate was out of sight, but he could see the steep road that curved sharply down to the river. The road was empty, and no one was on the fortified bridge that crossed to the town.
Crouched in the wood, Remy struggled to think. He was horribly certain that he had seen Mayor Arno attacked, most likely killed. Yet, that was impossible. He began to shiver as he remembered the shadow and the dreadful chanting. Knees to his chest, arms wrapped tight around them, still he could not stop shivering. The seething chant still echoed in his head. He kept hearing the Mayor's scream. Remy bit hard on his lip to stop himself crying. Something terrible had happened, and Sieur Edouard had watched and done nothing.
####
Edouard woke, shivering against cold stone. His head throbbed and his arms and legs felt leaden. He could not move. For a moment, he did not know where he was. Darkness swirled before his eyes, and he felt a surge of terror as he saw the tombs and sleeping figures, like waking from an old nightmare. But this was real. Fighting panic, he lay still. As his vision cleared, he saw the Mayor.
He tried to rise, but the movement made him dizzy. When he struggled to his feet, his knees buckled. He knelt on the cold stone and took a breath. It seemed an age before his head cleared, and when he opened his eyes again, it was to the sight of the Mayor's face.
Mayor Arno was dead; there could be no doubting that. Blood soaked the fine jacket. His features were twisted into a mask of terror. It was clear he had suffered. Braced on his knees, Edouard closed his eyes, remembering. He saw the shadow again. It was a thing of nightmare. For a heartbeat, it seemed it must have been one, but a look at Mayor Arno's face convinced him the horror had been real. A moment later, he heard the crunch of footsteps in the tunnel.
Terror got him to his feet and kept him upright. Gritting his teeth, he looked for his sword. It lay close by, but as he took a step, his knees buckled again. He stumbled and landed hard against one of the tombs. Somehow, he pushed himself upright and managed not to fall, but the movement made the pain in his head worse and blackness threatened his vision. The footsteps were close now. A figure loomed from the shadows.
He looked desperately to the sword so close, but beyond his reach. As he managed a step towards it, the figure advanced. Edouard did not look up; he concentrated on the sword and managed another step. He reached for the hilt, but the movement undid him. His vision blurred and he was falling.
Strong hands caught him. A voice spoke, but the words made no sense. He tried to struggle. His captor gripped harder, speaking urgently. Barely conscious, he recognized St Andre's voice.
"Edouard, where are you hurt?"
He managed to point. "Not me, the Mayor."
Quickly, the Marechal guided him to a seat at the foot of one of the tombs. Then he hurried to the Mayor's body. After a long moment, he turned. "He's dead. What happened here?"
"A creature, a thing of shadows," Edouard said, fighting to find words to make sense of it. "It killed the Mayor."
St Andre was staring at him. "The Mayor has a dagger in his belly."
He shook his head. "It was the shadow that killed him, I swear." He dragged himself to his feet. "My family, we have to warn them."
The Marechal was at his side immediately. "Wait. First tell me what happened."
"No, we can't wait, the creature…"
St Andre caught his arm with a grip that bruised. "Edouard. I know nothing of this shadow creature, but there is danger here for you and your family. You must tell me what happened."
Despite his fear, something in the Marechal's tone stopped him. Edouard sank back against the tomb. "I came as you instructed to meet the Mayor. He arrived, but he did not want to wait for you. I tried to reason with him, but before I could speak something attacked him."
"Who?"
"I don't know. If there is a dagger, it must have been thrown. I did not see it happen. Before I could do anything, the shadow came. It killed him. I saw it." The memory made him shiver. "We must warn my father. This evil thing may still be here."
St Andre turned, drawing his sword. He looked around the crypt and then moved to search. Moments later, he returned carrying Edouard's fallen sword. "There is nothing here, and no sign there was."
"You don't believe me."
St Andre was watching him closely.
"I know it sounds crazed, but it was here. It killed the Mayor." There was something chilling in St Andre's gaze. "What is it?"
The Marechal was silent for a long moment. "Do you know why I wanted to meet the Mayor?"
"No, I don't think so." Edouard struggled to remember. "No. You didn't tell me."
"I know, and I am sorry now, sorry that I involved you." He moved to stand over the body. "It may not surprise you to know that Mayor Arno had been writing to the King?"
Edouard shook his head, but as the silence continued, he realized St Andre was waiting for something more. "I didn't know. Why would I?"
"Did anyone at Chamfort?"
"I don't know." It was hard to concentrate past the pain in his head, the ache of cold in his bones. St Andre was still waiting for something, but he could not work out why this mattered or what he wanted. "Please, we must go and warn my father." He braced a hand against the stone and tried to stand. St Andre moved closer but offered no assistance.
"His letters made accusations against your father and brother. Claims that amount to treason, to plotting against the King."
"That's madness, my father would never…"
"I do not doubt your father, but you must see that is not our main problem now? The Mayor is dead, and tales of shadows will make a poor explanation for those who seek his murderer."
It took a moment for him to understand. "You think they will suspect me?" Edouard cursed the weakness that threatened at any moment to overcome him and made it so hard to think. "But I knew nothing of his letters." He studied his mentor's face. "Do you think I killed him?"
"No, of course not. But there will be people who know about the letters, and the claims the Mayor has made against your family. Think
how it will look if his body is found here, and if it becomes known that you were alone with him. There will be no way to stop it coming to the King's attention."
"I didn't touch him."
"I believe you, but there is no proof, and this story of the shadow, you must see…" The Marechal hesitated. "I'm sorry, Edouard, I came soon after the appointed time. I saw nothing of this shadow creature."
It did not make sense. Edouard almost began to doubt himself; then he remembered. "There was a boy, he saw it."
"What boy?" St Andre asked, his voice sharp.
"A Chamfort squire." Edouard struggled to remember the boy's name. "Remy, I think. He saw it and ran. He will tell you what happened."
"I will send men to search for him." St Andre frowned. "Until he is found and questioned we must act carefully. We cannot afford to allow this to come out until we know everything. The risks are too great for your family."
"But the boy will tell them what happened." Seeing St Andre's face, Edouard stopped. "You still don't believe me."
"Edouard, I'm only thinking of you and your family. The Mayor has a dagger in his belly, we must know the answer to this mystery, or when the outcry begins, what then? If Ferdinand comes to hear of this, he will be at best suspicious. At worst, he will use it as an excuse to move against your father."
It was too much to take in. He understood what St Andre was suggesting, but to keep this from his father when Chamfort might be at risk? "We must go to my father. He will know what to do." He managed to stand and take a step towards the tunnel.
"Edouard, wait." St Andre spoke with absolute command. "It is too dangerous." He came to Edouard's side. "There is more I have not told you. Things it is better you do not know."
"What things? What could matter more than this?"
Traitor Blade: (Books 1-3) Page 19
