All around the dry vegetation was burning, set alight by smouldering vines falling from above. Ordering the others over the side once more, he followed them down, swinging and falling to each new level of the hanging gardens, until their joints burned and their chests were seared from the exertion. And the flames leapt up the cascading balconies, the pall of smoke obscuring the Unseelie Court’s grim fortress.
A sea of grey mist washed over the treetops below the final garden. The drop here was the longest. Will clambered down the vines first, letting the last of them slip through his fingers long before he could see the ground. Branches battered his body as he fell. He hit the softy, loamy soil of the forest floor, rolled and sprang to his feet. Every muscle burned. The others rained down around him in a shower of shattered branch and twig and leaf. Once they were sure no bones had been broken, they stopped and listened.
An eerie silence lay beneath the protective blanket of mist. Taking a deep draught of the hot, humid air, Will advanced with slow, careful steps, blade at the ready. A high stone wall stretching deep into the forest on either side appeared out of the folds of grey. An arched opening loomed ahead of them.
‘This has to be the labyrinth that leads to the outside world,’ Jenny whispered at Will’s side. ‘I heard Mandraxas tell of it. Many have been driven mad when they became lost in its depths as they sought to reach the riches of the City of Gold or flee the horrors they found there.’
As he looked around them, Will allowed himself a tight smile. The message in the captain’s journal on the abandoned Spanish galleon now made perfect sense. He reached into the battered leather pouch at his side and pulled out the torn page, reading again those scrawled words: Twice stare into the devil’s face, then bow all heads to God. Thrice more the unholy must call. Again, again, again until the end.
‘Two left turns, then a right, then three left turns. Count carefully: this sequence must be repeated until we reach the other side.’
The sound of crashing from above reached them through the mist. He guessed the Hunters were dropping from the cliff face into the treetops. Beckoning to the others, he hurried through the arched door. It was cooler in the deep shadow of the high stone walls, and the six fugitives seemed to shudder as one. The way was narrow, barely more than a sword-length between the lichen-crusted walls.
‘At least there is only space for those fiends to come at us one at a time,’ Carpenter growled as he ran.
‘Stay close, and watch your backs,’ Will called. At each junction, he mouthed the count to himself, and so they twisted and turned deeper into the heart of the labyrinth.
Soon the thump of feet on hard-packed earth rang off the walls. Their pursuers were closing fast. Will beckoned for Meg to join him, and slowed to whisper in her ear, ‘Lead Jenny and Grace ahead. And I beg of you, do not stop, whatever sounds you hear behind you.’
‘I am as good with a blade as any man,’ she replied, her green eyes flashing. ‘Better. You know that.’
‘I do, which is why I entrust such valuable lives to your care.’
The beautiful woman’s features softened. ‘Very well. But do not risk that handsome neck, my love. I still have plans to win your heart.’ Blowing him a silent kiss she waved the two other women ahead. Once they had disappeared along a branching path, Will said, ‘We take turns to hold the rear. When we tire, we make way for a fresh arm, yes?’ The other two spies nodded, their faces grim.
The footsteps at their backs now echoed with the relentless rhythm of driving rain on wood. Steel scraped on stone. Will wiped a trickle of blood from his nose, trying to imagine how many were in pursuit. After a moment, he pushed the thought aside. It was not good to dwell upon such things.
Left, left, right, left, left, left. The high stone walls sped by in a monotonous blur. Will found it impossible to tell if they were close to exiting the labyrinth or still meandering in the centre.
The feeling of iron nails rattling in his skull alerted him a moment before Launceston’s hissed warning. Glancing back, he glimpsed a bloodless face floating in the gloom. The unflinching gaze fell upon him. Out of the murk, the Hunter bounded like a wolf, silver hair streaming behind him. His hollow chest was bare, with leather belts strapped across it, his breeches grey and loam-stained. Clutched in the long, thin fingers of his right hand was a glinting sickle. Other shadowy figures loped behind.
Will’s chest burned as he stepped up his pace. Snatched looks caught flashes of steel and bared teeth, and the ghastly figure looming closer with each step. Launceston held the rear, seemingly oblivious of the thing drawing close to his back. When the sickle swung towards his neck, the aristocrat ducked at the last moment. As the curved blade whistled over his head, he half spun and plunged his sword into the Hunter’s right eye socket. The Fay spun backwards in silence, trailing a stream of bloody liquor. His fallen corpse slowed the progress of the pursuers behind, but it would not be for long, Will knew.
Within moments, Launceston had slashed his blade across another face before allowing Carpenter to drop back and impale a third Hunter upon his rapier. Blood spattered from wounds on both spies.
When Carpenter had despatched another, Will moved swiftly to the rear. A wall of snarling faces hovered before him as the predators pressed forward, sheer weight of numbers eliminating the advantage the three spies had maintained in the cramped space. Gritting his teeth, he whirled his rapier back and forth, peeling open white flesh in an arc. Bodies fell with each thrust, but the Hunters cared little about their own lives, he saw.
For a moment his vision swam with those hideous faces. As the stink of their meaty breath washed over him, he knew his time was done. Determined that he would not go down to Hell alone, he snatched one final thrust with his blade, then waited for the wave to break upon him.
Instead, he felt a hand grab his shirt and pull him back so hard his feet left the ground.
Will lay sprawled across the hard earth. Shafts of sunlight punched through a canopy of leaves rustling high overhead. Lurching to his feet, he saw it was Carpenter who had dragged him from certain death, for that moment at least. He was out of the labyrinth in a clearing in the dense forest. Grace, Jenny and Meg huddled together at the edge of the trees. Launceston waited nearby, his rapier point dripping gore.
Anger born of desperation surged inside him. Why were they not running? But then he followed their gaze, and turned to face a vast arc of Hunters, a grey army, with more still flooding out from the labyrinth. Silently, they waited, a thunderstorm about to break. All hope was gone. Now there was only time for dying.
CHAPTER FIFTY-EIGHT
‘Stay your ground. I am your queen.’ Jenny’s voice rang out across the still clearing, suddenly imperious, commanding. Holding her head high, she broke away from the others and strode out from the shadows to face the line of waiting Hunters. Will’s chest tightened. He watched the Fay, wondering if they would heed her words or fall upon her first. In their cruel white faces, their eyes looked like chunks of coal.
After a moment, he realized they were not going to attack, but nor were they retreating. ‘Jenny,’ he whispered, his voice hoarse, ‘take no risks, I beg you.’
When she turned her face towards him, he almost cried out at the sadness he saw there. She forced a smile. ‘There is no risk here, my love. They will not harm their Queen. As long as I remain their Queen, upon the soil they call their own.’
Will felt a chill run through him as the meaning of her words slowly settled on him. ‘No,’ he whispered. ‘You cannot. . I will not allow it.’
‘We were lost the moment your fellow slew Mandraxas,’ she said in a soft, desolate voice, still smiling in an attempt to soften his pain.