He felt Ruth's hand on the back of his leg, so supportive he almost cried. "You can do it." It was as if she could read his thoughts. There was such belief in her words it snapped him out of the panic. Focusing his mind, he pressed his cheek firmly against the floor and pushed with his toes. He moved forward an inch or two. He tried again, but this time the going was more painful. And then, suddenly, he was wedged. He tried to wrench his head back, but the rough rock of the ceiling only dug into his flesh like the barbs of a harpoon. He couldn't go back.
In the flash of terror he was immobilised.
"Stay calm," Ruth whispered behind him. "You can do it."
Couldn't she see? He started to writhe as he fought for some way to free himself, but any movement backwards only made the situation worse. There was no air at all; however much he sucked in, it felt like only a thin rasp reached his lungs. The rock pressed down on him, crushing harder and harder. Sparks of light started to flash in front of his eyes. He was blacking out; dying.
He didn't know if it was a spasm or some last rational thought crashing through the chaos, but suddenly he gave one final push forward with his toes. It drove him an inch or so. Through the haze he discovered he could move his head a little. He pushed again, and after a tough moment when he thought his shoulders were going to jam, he slipped forward even further. He could barely believe it; the ceiling had started to rise again.
"It's all right!" he yelled with barely concealed relief. "It's getting higher again!"
Scrambling forward, he was soon back on his hands and knees, and although he couldn't turn to help Ruth through, he gave her enough verbal encouragement to bring her past the scariest part.
The blast of cold air was stronger there, and a faint light glowed. "Why's it so cold?" Ruth asked.
"Trust me on this-it's winter up top, summer everywhere else. The whole world's gone crazy. Situation normal."
Veitch moved forward as fast as he could until the tunnel came to a sudden end. He smelled the clear, cold night air, heard distant sounds. "We're through," he said.
"Where are we?" Ruth whispered.
Cautiously, he leaned out of the tunnel. It opened into some tubular, stone structure. There was a drop beneath them into what appeared to be water; he could see the black surface reflecting light from above. Twisting, he looked up into a circle that framed the drifting, white haar, lit by the castle's lights.
"It's a well," he said, retreating back into the tunnel. "Least, I think it is. Right, there are two wells at the castle. One's too small, more like a cistern really. So this must be the other." After the strain of the tunnel crawl, it took a second or two for the details to surface. "The Fore Well. The main water supply a few hundred years ago, but it's out of use now so there shouldn't be too much water in the bottom. Just in case we slip, like. Now if only we can climb out of the bastard-"
"How do you know all this?"
"Did my research, didn't I? I wasn't going to come waltzing into this place without knowing what I'm doing."
"I'm impressed."
He shrugged, but inside he was enjoying her praise. "It opens out on the Upper Ward. When I was up there a while back there weren't any guards in that area, so we could be on to a winner. If we can get past the cover."
"Cover?"
"There's a grille fastened on top to stop all the tourists falling in-"
"Oh, shit," she said, dismal again.
"Hang on, don't start getting negative already. We've come this bleedin' far. Just give me a chance, all right?"
Without waiting for an answer, he dropped in to the water. The icy shock almost made him call out. He was saved only by the fact that he had misjudged the depth. He plunged down beneath the surface and had to kick back up, spluttering and shaking from the cold.
"Are you okay?" Ruth asked worriedly. Her pale face was framed in the dark of the tunnel opening.
"Yeah, but it's like fucking ice." He blew the water out of his nose, treading hard to prevent the weight of the sword and the crossbow pulling him down.
"You need to get out quick before you get hypothermia."
"Thanks for the advice." He dug his numb fingers into the grooves between the stones, braced his back against one side of the well and set his feet against the other. Then, with a tremendous effort, he began to edge himself up. Twice he fell back into the freezing water with a loud splash and a foul curse, but no one came to investigate. The newly discovered steel inside him pulled him through and finally he had made his way to the top. Gripping the grille with his left hand to give him some support, he slid the sword under the area next to the fastening and heaved. It was hard to get leverage from his precarious position and he was afraid that either the sword would snap or the lock would hold fast, but after a moment or two he heard the sound of protesting metal. A second later he was heaving the grille off the well-head and climbing out into the freezing night.
He didn't bother to rest from his exertions. Checking there were no guards in the vicinity, he rushed over to the Great Hall where he remembered seeing some netting in the armoury display. The corpse of the Fomor guard had still not been discovered.
Back at the Fore Well, he lowered the netting so Ruth could tie it round her. Then, bracing himself, he hauled her to the surface. Weakly, she rested against the battlements, looking round anxiously.
"Are you sure it's safe?"
"Not for long."
She brushed a frail hand across her eyes. Veitch winced when he saw the space where her finger should be. "Thank God," she said. "I thought I was going to die in there. I thought I was going mad. How I didn't panic, I don't know." She gulped in a mouthful of air. "I'm babbling now."
He slipped an arm round her shoulder; she didn't flinch. "It's okay," he said.
Her eyes sparkled when she looked up at him; was that a connection he saw? He felt warmth rise up into his cheeks. "You were great," she said. "You were like a rock. I wouldn't have got through it without you."
The irony made him wince, but he couldn't break the illusion. For the first time she thought he was somebody who was worth something, who was capable, decent. But the conflict made him feel like a cheat. Even when he was getting what he wanted, his guilt and self-loathing got in the way. "We've still got a way to go yet. That was the easy bit," he said flippantly.
Before she could answer, her attention was distracted by something in the sky towards the bottom of the Royal Mile. The haar had started to drift away from that area and the black, star-sprinkled sky was clear.
"What is it?" Veitch asked.
"I don't know. I thought I saw something." She scanned the sky uneasily. "There it is again!" she said, pointing. The heavens were fleetingly lit by a strange, blue glow. In it, dark shapes seemed to be moving. "What do you think?"
"I don't know." Veitch had a sudden frisson which he couldn't explain. "But I reckon we need to get to the rendezvous site pronto."
The air was rushing so fast it ripped the breath from Church's mouth; his stomach flipped and twisted. The initial shock and terror was wiped away in a second by the helter-skelter sensations and the adrenalin that surged through him; the whole world seemed to be moving so fast he didn't have a chance to think. Beneath him, above him, all around him was darkness so intense he could have been plunging through space. Some hidden, rational part of him was scanning the shadows for any sign that could prepare him for the terrible moment of impact and it was that which caught the faint glimmer of blue light far, far away in the acheronian tunnel. It resembled a slight rip in black silk and it was growing wider, as if the fabric were rending.