Darkwitch Rising

by Sara Douglass

  “Well,” Silvius said, “it is finally time you came through that door and into the courtyard.”

  Louis realised suddenly that Silvius had both his eyes, and that he also could see with two eyes. He put a hand to his chest, and felt it whole.

  He looked back to Silvius. “You said you had been so blessed.”

  “Brutus was what I had made him. I should more than have expected that arrow through the eye, that surge of ambition. But what you are now, and what you shall become, that you have made yourself, and it is that making which has blessed me. You are a son to be proud of, Brutus, and I could not have asked for one better.”

  Louis’ eyes filled with tears. “Will you come back with me, Silvius? When I can find my way out of this damned enchanted existence? Tell me that this is not the last that I shall see of you. I would like my father back.”

  “And you shall have him. There is certainly nothing better I would like than to live out my life beyond the magical portals of the Troy Game.” His face now lost all trace of humour. “I would like Silvius to walk the streets of London, not that foul glamour which Asterion created.”

  Louis looked about. “Where do I go from here?”

  “Forward,” said a new voice, and Louis turned to see Long Tom standing just inside the doorway that led into Silvius’ private chamber.

  Long Tom held out his hand, and Louis walked forward.

  As he drew closer to the doorway, he saw that beyond lay not Silvius’ chamber, but the forest.

  Elizabeth was setting out one of Catharine’s gowns when another of the queen’s women, Lady Northard, entered and informed Elizabeth, with a sniff, that there were two disreputable boys waiting in the servants’ courtyard to speak to her.

  Elizabeth thanked her, then walked swiftly to the courtyard, trying to quiet her nerves. What could they want?

  She found the imps waiting for her in a shadowed corner.

  “What is it?” she said, taking care not to stand too close to them.

  “Weyland wants to know,” said one, “if you have anything interesting to report on our majesty the king’s movements last night. Did anything of note take place?”

  Little beast, Elizabeth thought, but was careful to keep the distaste off her face.

  “No,” she said. “He spent a quiet night in bed with his queen.”

  “And how could you be so sure of that?” said the other imp. “Did you hide behind the curtains, and peep at them while they fornicated?”

  “They spent the night together. In bed. I saw this for myself, for early in the morning, well before dawn, the queen called me to her side—‘twas my turn, last night, to sit awake in case she needed me—in order that I might empty her chamberpot, for she’d passed a particularly foul—”

  “Yes, yes,” said the second imp, wrinkling up his nose into a score of shadowy lines. “It is the king we are interested in, not the queen’s bodily stenches.”

  “In that case,” said Elizabeth, “I shall tell you that the king lay awake, concerned for his wife.”

  “Concerned at the reek, more like,” the first imp muttered. Then, louder, “And you are sure indeed that it was he? Not some stable lad pretending to be the king?”

  “It was he,” Elizabeth said, her voice calm, her eyes steady.

  The nearer imp to her reached out suddenly, and closed sharp-nailed fingers about her wrist. “Really?” he said softly, and Elizabeth felt darkcraft seethe through her.

  She gasped, sure that her lie would be discovered, but the imp only peered intently at her for a moment, then sighed, nodded, and withdrew his hand.

  “It was a horrid reek, indeed,” he said to his brother. “The king quite lost all lustful thought he had for his queen.”

  Then the imps both looked at Elizabeth. “Don’t get too comfortable,” said the first imp. “Weyland might want you to come home, you know.”

  At that they were gone, and Elizabeth leaned momentarily against the wall in sheer relief.

  Then she smiled, remembering what had happened last night when the Lord of the Faerie returned to the chamber.

  He had greeted Catharine, then Marguerite and Kate, and had then turned first to Elizabeth and then to Frances, kissing each girl warmly on the mouth.

  “Weyland will never know,” he’d said. “Tell him, if he probes, only that my lady wife needed you to empty her chamberpot, and that as you did so, you spied myself, sleepy, in the bed.”

  “Well,” said the first imp, “I’ll pop back to Idol Lane, shall I, and tell Weyland what she said?”

  “Aye,” said his brother. “And then hurry down to the wharves, for there awaits us a berth on the Woolly Fleece, bound for the Low Countries. Weyland shall see us no more for a few weeks, I think.”

  Ten

  The Great Founding Labyrinth within the Tower of London

  “Tomorrow morning,” said Jane to Weyland that evening as they sat at supper, “Noah and I must leave you for the day. It is time she began her training.”

  His gaze was hooded and watchful. “Very well. That was part of the bargain I made with Noah. If she lay by my side at night,” those eyes slid Noah’s way for a brief moment, “then she and you had your freedom to do what you needed. Tell me, where do you go?”

  “You do not need to know,” Jane said. “It is a matter which concerns only Noah and myself.”

  Weyland looked intently at Jane for a moment, but eventually he nodded. “I am pleased you do this, Jane.”

  “Are you not in the smallest bit concerned at what I might teach Noah?”

  Weyland laughed. “You forget I know you, Jane. I know every piece of you, every thought you’ve ever entertained, every ounce of power you think to wield. I know what you are capable of, and what you are not. So, no, I am not in the least concerned. You can do no harm.”

  An hour later, he took Noah by the hand and led her upstairs to his Idyll. Jane looked carefully at Noah the next morning, but saw nothing in her face save some excitement intermixed with apprehension. Having breakfasted—Noah eating very little—they departed, walking down Idol Lane to Thames Street and then turning left towards the Tower.

  “Where will we meet Ariadne?” said Noah as they approached the Tower. The vaguely square-shaped complex loomed before them, the original Norman keep, now known as the White Tower, rising in the centre from amid a motley collection of roofs. Ill-repaired walls, sprouting shrubs here and there throughout their height and punctuated at intervals by gloomy bastions, surrounded the complex. A stinking, stagnant moat lay beyond the walls.

  “She said she would wait for us by the Lion Gate,” Jane said, referring to the medieval gate and towers that guarded the bridge over the moat, which gave access to the Tower.

  As she spoke they turned the final corner, walked up the incline leading to Tower Hill, and saw the Lion Gate directly.

  A woman and a man stood there, arm in arm, the woman of a dark exotic beauty and clothed in red silk (the gown of contemporary English design rather than ancient Minoan), the man dressed in the uniform of an Officer of the Tower.

  Ariadne, and her lover, the Gentleman of the Ordnance.

  “What’s he doing here?” Noah said as they approached.

  “Presumably she needs him to get us inside,” said Jane.

  “But why—” Noah said, and then could say no more, for they stood before the Lion Gate, and Ariadne and her gentleman advanced towards them.

  “My friends!” Ariadne said, and taking first Noah’s, then Jane’s, face between her hands kissed them soundly on both cheeks. “I am so glad you could come!” Then, almost without drawing breath, she said to Jane. “Thank you for bringing Noah, Jane. You may return towards dusk to collect her again.”

  Almost panicked, Noah said, “You cannot go home, Jane! Weyland thinks that you—” she stopped, looking at Ariadne’s lover, who was regarding the women before him with amused blue eyes.

  “I am not that silly,” Jane said. “I shall spend my day about Tower F
ields, gathering flowers.” And with that she was off, striding briskly along the western perimeter of the Tower complex towards Tower Fields.

  Ariadne put her arm through Noah’s, and turned her towards the waiting man. “Noah, may I introduce my protector, Frederick Warneke, who is the Gentleman Officer of the Ordnance.”

  Noah dipped her head slightly at the man. “Gentleman Officer, I am most pleased to meet you. An unusual name, and most certainly not English.” She raised an eyebrow.

  “My father was a German merchant,” Warneke said. “He settled here many years ago.”

  “Ah,” said Noah. “Did he prefer London to his home, then?”

  “Very much so,” said Warneke. “He liked to say it was his spiritual birthplace.”

  Noah laughed, liking the man. He was plain of aspect, with thinning fair hair and a luxuriant ginger moustache, but with such lively, humorous blue eyes that they lifted his presence from the ordinary to the attractive.

  Warneke led Ariadne and Noah through the Lion Gate and then across the bridge towards Bell Tower and into the Inner Ward. The Tower complex was filled with many buildings: the ancient Norman keep, the White Tower, which dominated the entire site; medieval halls and residences; more recent armouries and storehouses; barracks for troops; galleries and chapels; and a few large open spaces consisting of stretches of green and squares of gravel. Warneke nodded at a long building to their left. “My quarters,” he said, “where you may refresh yourself if desired.”

  Noah hesitated, looking to Ariadne for guidance.

  “Noah and I have much to talk about,” she said. “We shall walk a while in the grounds, and once we feel the pangs of hunger and thirst we shall sup with you.”

  Warneke gave a small bow. “Then I shall return to my duties,” he said, and without further ado walked briskly across the Inner Ward towards a long line of armoury buildings set against the northern wall of the Tower.

  “For all the gods’ sakes,” said Noah once Warneke was out of hearing range. “What—”

  “He thinks only that you are my kinswoman who has a great curiosity about the Tower. Generously, for he is a generous man, Frederick has agreed that I may show you about the complex from time to time, so long as we stay away from the supply and ordnance stores.”

  “And what does he think that you are?”

  Ariadne smirked. “A fine woman, who contributes more to his life than ever he thought possible.”

  Her arm tightened about Noah’s. “Now, come with me, and walk the pathways towards the Great Founding Labyrinth. As you take your first step, accept that you will never, never be able to go back. You will either succeed on this quest, Noah, or you will die.”

  Jane walked across Tower Fields until she came to the scaffold. She paused by the rotten posts, resting her hand on one of them, looking about.

  Would the Lord of the Faerie remember?

  “Of course, Jane. I have been waiting for this day.”

  Jane spun about, and saw the Lord of the Faerie emerge from the other side of the scaffold, a small smile on his face.

  “Noah has gone to Ariadne?” the Lord of the Faerie asked.

  “Yes. Why did you want me here?” Jane was not particularly surprised to discover he knew about Ariadne.

  “Because you need to decide where you will go, Jane.”

  You need to decide where you will go. Jane decided she had never heard a more weighty, doomladen statement.

  “What are my choices?” she asked.

  “Come with me,” the Lord of the Faerie said, extending his hand to her, “and walk a while.”

  Jane reluctantly slid her hand within his.

  His fingers entwined with hers. They were surprisingly warm and soft. Jane had been expecting something else. Something hard, perhaps.

  She sighed, and allowed the Lord of the Faerie to lead her forwards.

  Within a moment she gasped, for Tower Fields abruptly vanished, and she found herself walking among the wild, ancient forests of Llangarlia. The Lord of the Faerie’s hand tightened about hers, but he said nothing, merely leading her further along the forest path.

  They walked for some time before Jane became aware that there were creatures darting between the trees, whispering, always keeping themselves just out of sight.

  She tensed, and came to an abrupt halt, pulling her hand from that of the Lord of the Faerie. “There is something else in the forest,” she said.

  “Aye,” said the Lord of the Faerie, “there are other things in the forest.”

  “What are they?” Jane said, looking about her.

  “Your choices,” said the Lord of the Faerie quietly.

  Jane went still, hardly able to breathe. Suddenly she felt very, very afraid. “What do you mean? What choices?”

  “Jane, do you want to live, or do you want to die?”

  Jane opened her mouth, then closed it slowly, staring at the Lord of the Faerie. “I want to live,” she said, her voice low.

  “Do you want to live free of your past, Jane?”

  “I cannot,” she said. “I am trapped, as are we all.”

  The Lord of the Faerie shook his head slowly, smiling. “No. It is your choice. Do you want to live, free of your past, and free of all the ambitions that have trapped you?”

  Yes! Jane wanted to scream at him, frightened by the terrible intensity of her emotions.

  “Yes,” she whispered.

  “There is a price.”

  Jane felt her old familiar rage rise within her.

  And then, suddenly, strangely, the rage died, leaving her feeling empty and ill. “I have always known there would be a price,” she said.

  Again the Lord of the Faerie gave a gentle smile. Once more he took her hand.

  “Are you willing to pay the price?” he said.

  Jane did not speak for a long time. She was not hesitating as such, merely absorbing all the implications of the conversation, and thinking that not so very far away Noah was engaged in her own transformation, and Jane did not envy her one whit. She realised that this moment was a gift; one she thought she’d never receive.

  “I am willing,” she said.

  Somewhere, deep within the forest, something terrible screamed.

  “The Great Founding Labyrinth?” Noah said. “But that was on Knossos, and was destroyed when—” She stopped suddenly.

  “Really?” said Ariadne softly, and looked very deliberately at the White Tower which rose a little distance away.

  Noah gasped in shock. As she had looked, so the White Tower had vanished, replaced by something dark and winding, and so monstrous, so frightening, that she had to look away again immediately.

  “The Great Founding Labyrinth can be recreated anywhere, at any time, in any convenient structure,” said Ariadne. “All trained Mistresses of the Labyrinth can do it. It is how the arts of the labyrinth spread so far about the ancient world, for not all Mistresses could be trained on Knossos. When it came time to teach my daughter-heir, my second daughter, in Llangarlia, then I used the Meeting Hall on Thorney Island to recreate the Great Founding Labyrinth. Genvissa was taught by her mother in the same manner. Now, the White Tower, which sits directly atop the ancient God Well, serves my purpose better.”

  “I cannot look at it,” Noah said softly.

  “Not yet, no,” said Ariadne, “for to gaze upon it for any length of time will kill you. But rest easy, Noah, for I shall not call it back until much deeper into your training. Eventually, of course, we shall enter it, and it shall be the site of your Great Ordeal.”

  “Great Ordeal?”

  “Your final test, my dear, to determine whether or not you have the strength and the courage to become a Mistress.”

  Noah dared glance towards the White Tower again, visibly relaxing when she saw that it had resumed its normal aspect. “Others cannot see what you just did?” she said.

  Ariadne shook her head. “What you and I do within the Tower complex shall be for our eyes only.” They were wal
king about the green grassed area to the west of the White Tower, moving towards the chapel. “Now, we can waste no more time, for there is much to be accomplished today. Tell me, if you dare, what you know of the labyrinth.”

  “It is a protective enchantment,” Noah said after a moment’s thought. “A magical form which traps evil at its heart, thereby lending protection to the city it is created to safeguard.” She glanced once more to the White Tower.

  Ariadne raised her eyebrows. “A perfect textbook explanation,” she said, “if bland and lustreless. Noah, you were literally bred within the labyrinth—at least, your ancient foremother was and you carry her blood in full measure—so now tell me what your heart, your bowels, your soul, tell you about the labyrinth.”

  She stopped, pulling Noah to a halt, and rested one of her hands flat against Noah’s chest, the touch of her long elegant fingers burning down through the material of Noah’s bodice to her skin.

  Noah flinched, but the touch freed something within her. “The labyrinth is powerful and alive and it throbs,” she said. “It…it is my body!”

  Her eyes widened as she said this, and Ariadne laughed, less in amusement than in genuine respect and some measure of relief. Yes, she had it within her. A potential so vast that Noah would eventually—not even in some distant future, but soon—wield so much power that…well, that the earth would stop its spinning if she so chose to command it.

  Jane felt more than heard it. Thousands of creatures, converging towards her.

  The shrubs beneath the trees quivered, then whipped from side to side, and before Jane could draw a single, shocked breath, she found herself surrounded by tens of thousands of creatures.

  Faerie folk, all gazing at her with flat hatred.

  “Their recompense is your price, Jane,” said the Lord of the Faerie. “For two lives you have conspired against them, against the land, against the goddess of the waters, and planned and all but executed Og’s murder. You have caused Eaving countless miseries through two lives. You have been a dark, malignant presence in this land, Genvissa-Swanne-Jane, and for this you must pay recompense.”