Witchfall (35 page)

At the first grinding sound of the timbers, I had heard hurried steps on the stairs. Then William’s voice through the door. ‘Meg? Is that you?’

Richard joined him a few moments later, and there was a swift exchange. ‘I can’t open the door. It’s been sealed magickally until nightfall.’

‘You must do something. She isn’t answering.’ A pause. ‘What is that terrible noise?’

‘I don’t know.’

‘You don’t know? What if Dent grew tired of waiting and has come for her himself?’ My brother sounded desperate. ‘Open the door, Richard! We have to be sure Meg is safe.’

The timbers continued to creak and protest as they were released from the wattle and daub. Behind that noise, I heard the sound of Richard beginning to unpick his spell, chanting in a strained voice as he skipped backwards through the nine-fold charm.

Too late, I thought, and stared at the wall. Too late.

At the top of the wall, above the window frame, a single thick wooden beam still kept the ceiling up, sturdy and resilient. But beneath it, where the window had once been, and at the side of my ancient fireplace, was a huge gaping hole in the wall of the house.

Ignoring the shouts from outside my door, I stepped through this hole, my hands held out for power, and leaped into space.

I did not so much fall as glided down on the wintry
afternoon air, sinking into a defensive crouch as I landed, then straightening as I realized it was done. I was free. Above me I could hear Richard undoing the last part of the spell and I picked up my gown, running towards the stables before he could throw open the door and come to the window.

It took me only a few clumsy moments to free all the horses, flinging myself inelegantly onto one horse’s back and sending the others scattering into the night. I spoke a single word into its ear and the horse jerked forward beneath me. It clattered out of the cobbled yard and towards the narrow grassy track that led out of Lytton Park. Exhilarated, I felt rather than saw Richard tossing halt-spells after me, but either they missed or some spirit was guiding my flight from home, for soon we were thundering down the track, the wind in my hair, my fingers tangled in the horse’s mane as I lay low over the animal’s neck.

It was a long way to ride without a saddle, I soon realized. My bottom was sore after only a few miles, my thighs aching horribly. But there was nothing to do but go on. I knew Richard and William would probably be behind me soon enough, once they had managed to catch some of those runaway horses. And they could ride much faster than me.

‘Find the tower,’ I murmured into the horse’s ear, and stroked his neck, letting my seeking-spell do its work.

About half an hour before sundown, the sweating horse stumbled and nearly fell down a rocky ravine, tired out by the relentless pace, its head drooping on its chest as I dragged it to a halt. A trickle of water ran beside us between the rocks, and the horse looked at it longingly, its hooves shuffling on the dusty ground. Straight ahead, I saw a vast building rising out of the trees and knew this must be Dent’s tower. It pointed towards the sky like an accusing finger, its grim stone walls broken only by a series of tiny arrow slits, no doubt to illuminate some winding stair within. To either side stood tall trees, barren as the ground around them, leafless in winter, their trunks scarred, some leaning to one side as though the tower’s foundation had cut into their roots and was slowly killing them. My skin prickled with a sudden awareness of evil. My spell had worked. This was the place.

I swung off the horse and left the exhausted animal by the side of the icy stream, then picked my way hurriedly across the wasteland and rough boulders to the base of the tower.

A door yawned open in the tower ahead of me. Inside a dark stair beckoned.

‘Master Dent!’ I shouted, suddenly afraid I was too late,
that he had already executed Alejandro. ‘I have come as you demanded. Come out and show yourself!’

Slowly, a shadow detached itself from the nearby trees. It was Marcus Dent. He stepped into the dying rays of the sun and threw back his hood, revealing his scarred face, one bright blue eye fixed in my direction, the other eye nothing but a dead socket. He looked exactly as he had done in my dreams and visions, which I had not expected. Somehow it had been easier to deal with his intrusions into my mind when I had thought him a work of my imagination. But if he had been able to place himself inside my head . . .

I pushed the thought away. It would do me no good to fear him now. Fear would only make it easier for him to kill me.

‘Where is Señor de Castillo?’ I asked coldly.

Dent lifted his hand. I saw other men emerge from the trees, a small band of shuffling men in cloaks and hoods. Amongst them, dishevelled and quite clearly furious, his arms bound behind his back and his mouth gagged, was Alejandro. At his throat was a dagger, clutched in a filthy hand by one of Dent’s sharp-eyed men.

The relief when I saw Alejandro was almost more than I could bear. I wanted to kill them with a word and tear him away from his captors. But I knew if anything went wrong and I failed, Alejandro would die.

‘Don’t waste your breath,’ Marcus said caustically, coming forward. ‘Personally, I deplore the spilling of good
Catholic blood. But I shall be happy to make an exception in your Spaniard’s case if you are so unwise as to attempt to work your magick against us.’ He gestured to the men to draw back into the shadows of the trees. ‘You and I will ascend the tower. There is much we need to discuss, and the view from the top is quite breathtaking.’

I glanced after Alejandro, but could no longer distinguish him from his captors, a band of shadows moving uneasily amongst the trees.

Marcus had seen my nervous glance. ‘They await my signal to take your friend and release him a mile away at the edge of the woods. I will not give that signal until we are at the top of my tower.’ He laid a hand against the rough stone wall of the tower. ‘Beautiful, is it not?’

I did not trust myself to answer this politely.

‘Unfortunately for you, the tower has been designed so that no magick can be worked within its bounds. The walls are worked with wood and stone known by the ancients to repel the dark arts, and even the foundations were blessed and doused in holy water. I would not suggest you pit yourself against such power.’ He held out his hand to me. ‘Shall we go up? If my men do not hear my signal by a count of three hundred, the Spaniard will die. So you had better hurry.’

‘How can I trust you to honour that arrangement?”

Marcus smiled drily. ‘You can’t.’

I looked at him, hating the man. There was nothing
more to say. ‘Very well,’ I murmured, knowing that I had been outmanoeuvred. He wanted me to climb his blasted tower, and to this end his men would hold Alejandro hostage until Marcus Dent had me exactly where he wanted me.

But I still had until we reached the top of the tower to think of how to save Alejandro without using magick. And I was very aware that my brother and Richard might be on the road behind me, perhaps at this very moment riding straight into danger.

‘Let me speak to Alejandro first,’ I insisted. ‘I did not see his face clearly. How can I be sure that man is even him?’

Marcus hesitated, frowning. Then he nodded towards those hiding among the trees.

A second later, I heard Alejandro’s familiar voice cry out, ‘Get away from here, Meg, for the love of God!’ There was a muffled struggle, then a groan, and I knew he had been gagged again.

But I had what I needed. Evidence that it was indeed Alejandro, not a shadowy figure intended to deceive me, and that he was still alive. I had remembered Master Dee’s prophecy that Alejandro’s life was in danger. This must be what he had foreseen. The realization that it was my fault he had been brought so close to death made my blood run cold, my fingers itching with the desire to work some powerful magick and sweep all those men away.

But I knew how dangerous it would be for Alejandro if I got even the slightest part of such a spell wrong. And the
sound of his voice had given me new strength. ‘Wait for me, Alejandro,’ I called after him. ‘I will not be long.’

Marcus smiled cruelly at my bravado, gesturing me to enter the tower. ‘After you, Meg Lytton.’

The top of the tower seemed dizzyingly high as I groped my way out of the low arched doorway and into the air. As in my visions and dreams, the wind was stronger here, blowing at my hair and flapping my skirts about me. The sun was still just above the horizon, flushing the sky a wild dusky red, clouds chasing each other above the hills.

At my back was Marcus Dent, close behind me as he had been during the long, arduous climb. I could hear him breathing harshly and knew he was diseased, his body broken from its journey into the void.

Straightening up as he emerged from the dark stairway, Marcus grabbed my hair and dragged me to the edge of the tower. There was no wall built about the top to prevent a fall. The roof of the tower was open to the elements, the grim stones rolling away into nothingness like a cliff top.

‘Look down at your fate, witch!’ he ordered me, and I looked, my head spinning, my body jerking wildly as he held me out over space for a few horrific seconds. Then he threw me back onto the stone floor, his face twisted with rage. ‘That is how it was for me when you sent me into the abyss. One moment of divine terror as I was sucked into oblivion, then pain and torment beyond anything I could have
imagined. Now I will give you a similar death. Except there will be no coming back for you, no magickal resurrection.’ He smiled coldly. ‘Yes, you may well look surprised. I hear everything and I am everywhere at once, Meg. I am in your nightmares and your daydreams. I am the whisper in the walls that you cannot quite get out of your head. I am the shadow in the dark corner that moves whenever you are not looking at it.’

He is a madman, I thought dizzily, and scrabbled back along the rough stone floor as he strode towards me.

‘I intend to sever your head from your body,’ he said harshly, bending over me. ‘Your magick will not save you up here, and there can be no return once the head has been severed. Do you understand? Nod if you understand me, witch.’

I nodded, and had to watch my enemy gloat over my impending death.

So my visions had been a prediction of the future, after all. Hope drained from my body. I was going to die here today, on the top of this tower, and as Marcus had rightly said, there would be no coming back this time. But I could not allow him to kill me before I knew that Alejandro was safe.

‘Alejandro,’ I croaked.

‘Ah yes, the Spaniard. Well, I shall have him released, for I am a man of my word. But when you are dead, I shall take great pleasure in hunting him down and destroying him.
Your other companions too. The Lady Elizabeth is a particularly troublesome female. She cannot be allowed to take the throne. So I shall destroy her too. Once you are dead, the spells of protection you have laid about her household will dissolve.’ His smile was repellent. ‘Then I shall simply walk in through the door.’

‘Make the sign,’ I told him urgently. ‘Tell your men to release him. They will have reached a count of three hundred by now.’

He looked at me. ‘Beg for his life if you want me to spare your friend. I would like to hear you beg.’

I swallowed my pride. ‘Please, Marcus,’ I begged him. ‘Please keep your word and have Alejandro released. The moon is nearly up.’

‘Again!’

‘Please.’ I was almost crying. ‘Please, Marcus. You said you were a man of your word.’

‘And so I am. But I do enjoy hearing you beg,’ he said unpleasantly, and nodded. ‘Thank you.’

Marcus put his fingers to his mouth and whistled. A moment later, an answering whistle came from below.

Since Marcus did not seem to have forbidden it, I took the opportunity to crawl to the edge. The tower was dizzyingly high, a vantage point from which Dent must be able to see any approaching enemy long before they got close enough to do him any harm. My belly sickened as I stared down at the boulders below, knowing that even to jump
would mean my death. I lay there on my belly and peered down, just about able to make out the men below as they dragged Alejandro through the dark trees and up the ravine.

The helplessness I felt made me want to throw myself down and break my body on the boulders below.

Why wait for Marcus to dispatch me? He would be able to kill me easily enough. I tried to place a shield about myself, and felt my magick push against an invisible wall like the one Richard had set about my door at Lytton Hall. His protection was working. I could achieve nothing on this tower, not the smallest of magickal acts.

Marcus came towards me with an axe in his hand. So that was where he had disappeared to; fetching the instrument of my execution.

It was a familiar weapon to me now, the shaft wound thrice with holly, just as it had been in my visions, the broad blade glinting evilly in the dying rays of the sun.

‘On your feet, witch,’ he said unsteadily.

I obeyed, not seeing any point in arguing, and turned to face him.

‘I had this axe specially forged for this moment,’ Marcus told me, holding up the axe. ‘Do you admire it? You should. It was made for one purpose only, and that is to take your life. The life of the witch who would take mine.’

‘The prophecy,’ I muttered, nodding.

His one blue eye narrowed on my face, examining me
fiercely. His scar stood out red and livid in the sunset. ‘You know about the prophecy? Who told you?’

‘You need me to give you a name? I thought you knew everything, Marcus.’

‘Be silent, witch!’

I made a face. ‘But I thought you were everywhere at once. Watching us, listening to us. The whisper in the walls, wasn’t it?’

He gripped the axe shaft tightly, stepping forward. I could almost smell his anger fulminating on his breath. ‘Enough foolish talking,’ he said hoarsely. ‘I had thought to make you beg for your life, Meg Lytton, but I see your defiance is unchanged. Death is the only way open for such a girl as you. Now it is time for you to kneel and meet your fate.’