Faerie Wars 01 - Faerie Wars (38 page)

'But we know there was an attempt on Pyrgus's life. And it may yet be successful -- we still haven't found him.'

'That's true, Majesty, but that's also a weakness in the story Chalkhill told Blue. As I understand it, he claimed the reason Lord Hairstreak wanted Pyrgus killed was so there would be no legal claimant to the throne after your supposed assassination. But there are two further claimants to the throne should you and Pyrgus both be killed.'

The Purple Emperor looked at him thoughtfully. 'Comma and Blue.'

'Exactly, sire -- Prince Comma, then Princess Blue. The moment Pyrgus should die, Comma becomes Crown Prince. The moment you should die, the Crown Prince becomes Emperor. If Lord Hairstreak really wished to clear a road to the throne, he would have had to assassinate Comma and Blue along with Pyrgus and yourself. There has been no indication of that happening and nothing in Chalkhill's story to suggest it was planned. I'm frankly suspicious the whole thing may be a fabrication.'

'For what purpose?'

Tithonus shrugged again. 'Possibly to sow confusion -- these are troubled times. Or possibly the whole thing is a fantasy of Chalkhill's to make himself appear important. He may be one of Hairstreak's agents, but he is still a very unstable character.'

'So you don't believe any additional security measures are required?'

'Not at this time,' Tithonus said. 'At least not until Chalkhill has been properly interrogated. Which is something that has already begun, of course. We will find out the truth quickly enough.'

They were together in the Emperor's quarters, protected as always by the silence spell. Apatura walked to the window and looked out thoughtfully. After a while he turned back and said, 'I think you may be right, Gatekeeper. Additional security precautions at this time might be interpreted as a sign of weakness. You were correct not to put them in place when my daughter urged it and I agree it may be better to take no further action in this area unless something else emerges from Chalkhill's interrogation.'

'Thank you, Your Majesty,' Tithonus said. 'Now, perhaps if you'll excuse -- '

He was interrupted by a loud knock on the door.

'I gave orders we were not to be disturbed.' The Emperor's voice betrayed his irritation.

'It may be news of Pyrgus,' Tithonus said. He unlocked the door and opened it.

Mr Fogarty pushed past him rudely. His eyes were glazed and he was carrying his pump-action shotgun.

The guards were rough, but not brutal. They marched Henry down flights of stairs and locked him in a room that seemed to be used as a temporary store. After a moment he righted a wooden chair and sat down, staring miserably at the door. He felt deeply ashamed; and not just for getting caught. He'd done a dreadful thing and he didn't know how to undo it.

He didn't feel guilty about coming across her. That had been completely innocent -- he'd just gone in the direction of the laughter. He wasn't to know it was a girl having a bath. And what was she doing having a bath right there in the open anyway? When you had a bath, you went into the bathroom and closed the door.

All the same, when he
did
see her, he should have turned away. He should have turned away at once, not just stood there and stared. The thing was, it wasn't fair. Charlie once said,
How would you like it if some of the girls were looking at you and giggling when you were in the showers?
Henry wasn't sure, but he didn't think he would like it; certainly he wouldn't like the giggling and he wouldn't like it at all if he had spots.

He hadn't noticed any spots on the auburn-haired girl he'd stared at.

The trouble was he could still see her in his mind's eye. And that made it worse somehow. It was as if he'd taken photographs and was sneakily looking at them now. The girl would have hated it if he'd really taken photographs, but what was the difference?

To distract himself, he got up and wandered around the room. It wasn't very large and there was a lot of stuff in it, bric-a-brac and packing cases pushed against one wall. There was a small window high up. He wondered what was outside, through the window.

It wasn't that he wanted to escape or anything, but he did want to see what was outside. He pulled a case over to the wall and found a stool which he put on top. He shook the stool and it seemed stable, so he climbed on to the case and on to the stool to look out through the window. He couldn't see much except a sweep of well-kept lawn so he clung to the windowsill and pushed himself up on tiptoes.

'What do you think you're doing?' asked a voice behind him.

Henry stopped himself from falling, but only just. He turned awkwardly, fighting to keep his balance. A girl had entered the room. For a fraction of a second, Henry didn't recognise her, then he realised it was the girl he'd seen in the bath. She was dressed now, which was a huge relief. All the same Henry felt himself flush crimson.

'Come down!' she told him sharply. 'Come down at once!'

Henry climbed down slowly from the stool, wishing he were dead.

Pyrgus felt the last remnants of the demon's influence fall from his mind and a fierce, dark anger flared inside him. How dare this creature talk so calmly about killing an emperor? How dare he threaten the Realm of Faerie? Pyrgus wanted to hurl himself upon Beleth and strangle the demon with his bare hands. Instead, he examined his cage for some possibility of escape.

The thing was designed like the cage that held the cat and her kittens in the glue factory, except larger. But not so large that Pyrgus could stand upright. He crouched behind the bars, glaring down on a frightening, hellish scene.

His cage was suspended from a chain attached to a mechanism in the roof of a cavern underneath Beleth's metal mansion. Directly below a pool of molten brimstone cast a red glow. Some thirty or more of Beleth's followers were working in the cavern, their skins scaled and armoured against the heat, their bodies muscular and bloated to allow them to handle the hot metal they were crafting into a monstrous missile beside the pool. Beleth himself had reverted to the fearsome form he had used to appear in Brimstone's Triangle of Art. A lantern hung from one huge curling horn.

Beyond the toiling demons was a levelled platform on which contingents of miniature troops were drawing up in battle order. The technology here was very different from that of the Emperor's Situation Room. Triangulated projectors replaced the crystal globes so that the armoured demons Pyrgus had seen outside the city were re-created little more than eighteen inches tall across the platform surface. At first glance they looked like a toy army, but once you watched for more than a moment you lost the scale and found yourself drawn into the midst of the action even more effectively than any globe.

'Aggression!' Beleth growled admiringly.

The troops were grouping for manoeuvres. They had separated out into two broadly equal factions and as Pyrgus watched they hurled themselves upon each other. Light wands sparked and hissed. Balls of flame rolled viciously across the battlefield. Missiles exploded everywhere. But Beleth's troops seemed indestructible. They walked unscathed through gouts of flame, explosions, shimmering razor fields, somehow surviving to press their attack with mind-numbing savagery. These were the creatures who would soon be joining Hairstreak to oppose the forces of the Purple Emperor. Pyrgus's father didn't stand a chance.

'The reality will be entertaining,' Beleth said. 'But enough of this small amusement -- I want to tell you now how you will die.' The ground shook as he walked towards a metal lever set beside the brimstone pool. He looked up at Pyrgus, now almost directly overhead, and smiled. 'Isn't real machinery fascinating? I mean, all these magical trapped-lightning devices are impressive, but you can't really beat the good old-fashioned cogs and gears and levers stuff. That's machinery you can
understand.
I love it, Crown Prince. So satisfying.' He reached out and fondled the end of the lever.

It was uncomfortable in Pyrgus's cage. Crouched as he was, the muscles of his legs were beginning to protest and would probably soon spasm painfully. His headache was back, more vicious than before. Just two more little problems in what had been a really lousy day. He wished he could think of something cool to say to Beleth, but nothing came to mind. Not that it mattered, since Beleth was still talking.

'You will die very slowly,' Beleth said. 'Very slowly and very, very painfully. This lever operates the machinery above your head. Once I pull it, the machinery feeds out the chain and your cage will begin to lower. It's set to work extremely slowly. I doubt you'll even notice the movement, but take my word for it, you will be moving. Downwards.'

Pyrgus looked down. Below him the brimstone pool seethed and bubbled.

'In time,' said Beleth, 'in such a long, long time, life will grow uncomfortable for you. In time you will find yourself coughing from the brimstone fumes. In time you will find yourself sweating from the heat. In time the stench of sulphur will fill your nostrils and your eyes will begin to stream.'

'Now look here, Beleth -- ' Pyrgus said.

But Beleth was not to be interrupted. He giggled. 'And it can only get worse. The temperature will rise as you approach the brimstone pool. You will become thirsty as your body fluids evaporate. Your skin will prickle, then begin to blister. All so slowly, so very, very slowly, allowing you to appreciate every second of the exquisite, steadily increasing pain. No, please don't interrupt -- we're getting to the best bit. Eventually, after many, many hours of drawn-out torture, you will reach the brimstone pool itself. Slowly, oh so slowly, your cage will descend into the molten sulphur. It will begin to burn away your feet, starting with the soles. Then, as the cage sinks deeper, it will burn away your ankles and your legs up to your knees. Brimstone cauterises blood flow, so you will remain alive and conscious as your body is gradually burned away a fraction of an inch at a time. Your head and brain will be the last to go so you may even enjoy the supreme horror of watching the molten brimstone creeping up towards your neck before you lose consciousness for ever.' He gave a deep, throaty chuckle and stroked the metal casing of the enormous missile his demons were constructing beside the pool. 'The last thing you will ever see will be my Doomsday Bomb.'

'Doomsday Bomb?' Pyrgus echoed despite himself.

'The weapon that will allow me to take over your father's kingdom,' Beleth grinned. 'The destructive power of a small sun is contained within this metal canister. I will launch it from one of my vimanas -what your human friends quaintly call flying saucers. It will kill a million of your father's soldiers, give or take a dozen. Such a saving in manpower. It will destroy your palaces and raze your entire capital in a single burst of deadly light. You will die looking at it, knowing it will soon wipe out your family and your friends.'

'Why are you doing this?' demanded Pyrgus. 'I can understand why you might want to kill me, but why the long, slow torture?'

Beleth smiled delightedly. 'It is my nature.' His fingers curled around the lever. 'Oh, I do like this bit!' he exclaimed. 'It gives me such a thrill!' He pulled the lever.

The sweating demons stopped their work momentarily and turned to look up at Pyrgus's cage. There was a grinding of machinery and Pyrgus felt the cage jerk slightly before it settled, swinging slightly.

'Doesn't feel as if it's moving, does it?' Beleth called. 'But it is, take my word for it. You are on your final journey and it will take a long, long time. I shall leave you soon to enjoy your trip, but before I go I want to give you a little mental anguish to accompany your physical pain. I want to tell you how your father was betrayed and how he will be killed. I want to tell you what will happen to the Peacock Throne and the fate of your dear little sister. I want to tell you about the treachery and treason and the utter, total, absolute destruction of House Iris. I want to tell you about our plans to pillage the Realm of Faerie. I want -- '

In his cage, Pyrgus experienced another stab of his peculiar headache. It felt as if there was pressure building up inside his skull. It made him nauseous and for one glorious moment he thought he might be able to throw up all over Beleth. But then the nausea died down and he was just left with the headache and the pressure in his skull. He put it down to nerves and tried hard to ignore it.