The Silver Skull

CHAPTER 24

ehind Will, a shaft of light plunged down into the hole from the abbey and he could hear Nathaniel moving around the edge, trying to follow his progress. With a single candlestick for light, he edged along walls lined with stone blocks, well aged and glistening with damp, the floor perfectly level. Despite the fine workmanship, he was aware that after four centuries collapses could lie ahead, perhaps even drops into the foundations.

The stale air told him that wherever the tunnel led, it was sealed. After a few paces, it sloped down until Will estimated he was at least twenty feet beneath the floor of the abbey.

Finally, he came to a raised step. The change in the timbre of the echoes suggested a large space lay beyond, but the candlelight barely penetrated a foot into the chamber.

A stone column topped by a plinth stood just inside the entrance. Carved into the top was the Templar cross and an image of two Knights on a horse, underneath which was engraved Sigillum Militurn Xpisti-the Seal of the Soldiers of Christ.

Lowering the candle, Will saw a legend had also been engraved:

Under God's ever-watchful eye,

A Shield against Earthly decay shall lie.

But the fires of heaven and hell consume

The unworthy seeker who enters this tomb.

Studying the message of damnation, Will was puzzled by the reference to the "fires of heaven," but could see some greater meaning was coded into the legend. "There is a mystery here," he mused aloud.

Amid the disorienting echoes, Will edged past the plinth into the suffocating darkness of the chamber. It was impossible to tell how large the space was, or where the Shield was located. As he progressed, the candle revealed that plain flagstones were about to give way to ones engraved with the Templar cross, stretching as far as the candlelight penetrated.

The tone of the legend encouraged Will to advance with caution. Pausing at the line of Templar stones, he took one hesitant step. When the flag cracked and fell away beneath his boot, he threw himself back. From above, a stream of silvery powder fell towards a gleaming black liquid smelling of pitch that lay beneath the broken stone. As the powder landed, the liquid burst into a column of fire.

Kicking back several more steps as the heat scorched past his face, Will caught his breath and realised how close he had come to being incinerated. The flaming column died down a little, but still blazed intensely at its base. Its glare revealed a vast chamber bigger than the floor of the abbey, with the cross-marked flags reaching to the far wall where a niche held an object that he couldn't quite discern.

As Will rapidly processed what had happened, he realised some of the meaning of the legend on the plinth. Fires of hell, burning beneath his feet. He guessed what fires of heaven meant. Returning to the tunnel, he reclaimed a heavy chunk of the broken entrance flag and tossed it out onto the crossmarked stones. Two flags shattered. One ignited another hidden pool of the pitch-like liquid, while the other released a gush of the flaming liquid from above.

Somewhere, he guessed, there was a path across the flags to the niche that would not end in death, one the Templars had left should they, or their heirs, ever need to reclaim the Shield for their own use.

Will was acutely aware of the pressure of time. Sooner or later, the Unseelie Court would realise he was no longer at the festivities and would come searching for him, if they had not done so already. But the ferocity of the fire showed he could not take any risks. Even testing the flags with his boot could result in death, and the heat from too many blazing locations would destroy him, even if he did find a path among them.

For a few minutes, he walked up and down the boundary of the crossmarked flags, searching for any that were different, an angled cross, perhaps, or a completely bare flag, but even before he had completed one pass he knew that would be too easy. The Templars wanted to protect the Shield from anyone who wished to use it for malign purposes.

Yet they also recognised the Shield could be of benefit, perhaps in protecting against one of the Skull's attacks, and so they would have incorporated a way to it for someone who wished to use it for good. But how could they differentiate?

Leaning against the wall at the back of the chamber, he carefully turned over everything he had learned about the Templars. He knew of their public works, of course, and of their secret war against the Enemy that had been revealed to him by Dee. He had discovered that they used ciphers to disguise their true meaning, and that they enjoyed the use of symbolic representations.

Thoughtfully, he returned to the plinth. The key was there, he was sure. The warning to those who wished to use the Shield for evil, that was clear. But a clue to help the needy? He read the legend again, carefully.

The second half of the legend was specific in its warning. What if the first half was too? Under God's ever-watchful eye.

Walking back to the line of cross-marked stones, Will peered up to the ceiling high overhead. It would normally have been obscured by gloom, but a sacrifice in the fires of heaven and hell had revealed in blazing illumination what was hidden there. Will smiled, understanding the minds of the good Christian Templar Knights. The unworthy would focus on the perils of the fires. The worthy would look to the heavens for salvation.

The stones across the ceiling mirrored the ones on the floor, each marked with a Templar cross-as above, so below-except that a few were marked with an eye.

God's watchful eye.

If he followed the trail of the eyes, would he find his way through to the Shield? The reasoning appeared sound, but there was only one way to be certain. Placing his boot firmly on the flagstone beneath the first eye, Will shifted his weight onto it. The flag held.

Quickly, he followed the route, shying away from the roaring columns of flame. Occasionally, he had to wait for the thick smoke to clear so he could follow the safe path, and he realised that if he had cracked any more of the fire-stones, the smoke would have completely obscured the guiding eyes above. There was something symbolic in that, too.

The path turned left and right, weaving across the entire width of the chamber, but moving inexorably towards the niche. Finally, he stood before it. In the niche, resting on an angled plinth, was a silver amulet on a chain, inscribed in black filigree with symbols and words in a language Will did not recognise.

Snatching the amulet and turning to retrace his steps, he spied Reidheid waiting on the far side of the chamber, his sword drawn. Reidheid nodded slowly as he saw the thoughts play out on Will's face.

"Traitor," Will intoned gravely.

"I am not alone," Reidheid replied. "There are traitors everywhere among Walsingham's men. Sometimes I wonder if there are more traitors than loyal followers of the queen."

Holding the amulet behind him, Will strode back along the path. "How could you betray England?"

"England endures, whatever happens. The question is: how could you not betray the queen and her government? You have seen the Enemy's abilities. We can never win."

"What have they promised you, Reidheid? Riches? Congress with the most beautiful women in the land? A life eternal? They prey on human weakness, and find the spaces in our character that they can prise open from crack to chasm. You know that. They cannot be trusted."

"They promised me freedom from fear." A fleeting expression of desperation crossed Reidheid's face. "Imagine what that would be like. No longer glancing over your shoulder in search of death's looming, bony face. No longer waking with such bleak thoughts in the morning that you are unable to appreciate the new dawn, and no longer fighting to find sleep each night as the terrors race through your mind."

"We are mortals. There is no true freedom from fear. We live with it and learn to accommodate it. That makes us human. And that is where we gather our strength."

"Yes, we are mortals. We hate each other for being Catholic or Protestant, Jew or Moor, English, Spanish, or French. There is no hope for us. We must get what we can from this world, before heaven beckons."

"Or hell."

Steadying himself, Reidheid waved his sword towards Will. "Enough. Our philosophic discourse can be continued at another time. Give me the Shield."

"So you can in turn give it to the Enemy." Will held the amulet by the chain so that it turned slowly, reflecting the gold and scarlet of the flames.

"It matters not to you." Reidheid stepped to the edge of the crossmarked flags. "Another turn in a war that goes on forever."

Will smiled tightly. "I see the Enemy treats you like their dog, chained up in the kennel and thrown tidbits. Do you not know what is truly at stake here? You betray not only the queen and England, or your fellow man, but your own family, your daughter, Meg."

"And why should I believe you either?" Reidheid snapped. "Will Swyfte, who lives a lie as the greatest hero England knows, a fairy tale to soothe the nightmares of men and women so they think themselves protected by gods, and not, in truth, by an assassin ... a torturer ... a man of grey morals. You are no better than me. We have our ambitions and we pursue them vigorously."

Protecting the amulet in his fist, Will came to a halt a few flags short of Reidheid and drew his sword. "You speak like a child. Is this some revelation to you? That we all wear masks? Which is the true face? The truth is, there is none. We are all many things, and all of them insubstantial. Good and evil are elusive. But there is one thing that divides us. You do what you do for your own gain."

Reidheid's cheeks flushed and he held out his hand. "The Shield."

"It is here. You may take it, or try to." Will raised his sword.

Reidheid hesitated. "I am not afraid. The Unseelie Court will be here soon, and you will not escape their attentions."

"I think not. It is my belief that this place is protected. No Enemy foot can tread here without risking destruction. It is you and I, Master Reidheid. I hear you were a fine swordsman in your prime. Do your recall your skills?"

Reidheid stepped onto the closest of the cross-marked flags, and by chance it was one beneath an eye. Hesitating, he looked around at the blazing pools and realised Will was leading him into a trap.

He smiled and stepped back. "Clever, Master Swyfte. But you are at the disadvantage. The Unseelie Court even now prepare to close off your options for escape, and the Spaniard has been dispatched to collect your assistant. He will not last long."

"Then let us end this." Will raced along the true path across the flags, but at the last he stepped on the fake flag nearest to Reidheid. It crumbled under his boot, but his momentum carried him over it as he ducked the swing of Reidheid's sword and rolled across the solid stones of the chamber's entrance area.

As flames rushed up from the black pool, Reidheid reeled back, one arm raised before his face against the blast of heat.

On his feet in an instant, Will spun, planting one boot in Reidheid's gut. With a cry, he doubled-up and fell back, but a well-hidden agility came to the fore as he rolled across the chamber floor to avoid the thrust of Will's sword.

He was up quickly, blocking Will's driving thrusts and responding in kind. Their fight ranged along the edge of the cross-marked flags, evenly matched as Reidheid settled back into the duelling skills he had learned in his youth. Resounding off the chamber walls, the clash of their blades sang, thrust and parry, high and low.

But Reidheid was out of condition and after a few moments he began to tire. As his strength dwindled, Will saw his opening. He kicked one of the cross-marked flags next to Reidheid, withdrawing his boot sharply as the silvery dust fell. When the flames roared up, they engulfed the left side of Reidheid's body. Screaming, and ablaze, he dropped his sword and staggered away.

Instantly, Will knocked him to the floor and rolled him over continually until the flames were extinguished. The skin of Reidheid's face and most of the left side of his body was blackened, but he was alive. Will dragged him to his feet and propelled him towards the tunnel. "You are fortunate I am not the man you thought I was."

Near the entrance, the flames made their shadows dance along the tunnel walls, but soon they were in the dark again, with only the shaft of light from the abbey above to guide them on.

Whimpering in pain, Reidheid offered no resistance. Beyond his cries, Will listened for any sign of threat in the abbey above, but all was quiet.

"Nat," he whispered loudly, but received no response.

Beneath the shattered flag, he cupped his hands to propel Reidheid up, and then leapt to draw himself into the abbey. It was empty. Had Nathaniel gone to investigate the festivities, to ensure the Enemy was not closing on the abbey?

"Make no sound," Will said quietly to Reidheid as he held him by the arm, "or I will retract my previous decision and run you through."

At the door, Will listened. He could hear the distant music from the king's festivities, but there appeared to be no one nearby. Moving out into the short corridor that joined the abbey and the palace, he saw the quadrangle was now illuminated by the silvery light of the moon. Darkness hung heavily in the cloisters.

"Father!" Meg's cry rang out from the nearest cloister along the eastern edge, and a second later she separated from the darkness of a doorway accompanied by another figure. It was the Hunter, and he gripped her wrist tightly. Tearfully, she struggled to free herself so she could run to Reidheid, but the Hunter held her fast. As she fought, he moved a cruel, curved knife to her throat.

"See what you have done?" Will said coldly.

"Meg." The desolation in Reidheid's voice rose up above the pain of his injuries. "Leave her be."

In the moonlight in the quadrangle, several figures appeared, though there had been no sign of them before. Cavillex stood at the head of the other members of the Unseelie Court.

"There are places we cannot walk, but our influence never fades when we can always reach into human hearts," he said.

Drawing his sword again, Will thrust Reidheid away. Slowly he backed to the wall, his eyes darting along his branch of the cloister.

"Kill her," Cavillex ordered. "And then the rest of them."

Reidheid cried out, but before he could move, Nathaniel lurched from a doorway where he had been hiding. He manhandled a hefty iron candlestick and brought it down hard on the Hunter, who fell to the ground, his knife spinning across the flags.

"Run, Nat!" Will called. As he turned, he caught a glimpse of Nathaniel grabbing Meg by the hand and dragging her towards the abbey. Cavillex's orders echoed across the quadrangle, but Will was already racing along the cloister towards the tower in the far corner. He hoped to escape through the door to the gatehouse, but the Unseelie Court moved silently and stealthily past the entrance, revealed only by the moonlight throwing their fleeting shadows on the stone.

At the end of the cloister, Will plunged through a door that led to a spiral staircase passing windows with a view over the formal gardens. Only one pursuer appeared to be climbing the stairs behind him-the Hunter, Will guessed, seeking revenge for the wound Will had inflicted in the Fairy House.

At the top of the steps, he crashed into the outer chamber of a bedroom, dark with wood panelling. Each panel on the ceiling was marked with the royal seal, and as he ran into a chamber with decor that suggested it belonged to a woman, he realised he had arrived in the old quarters of Mary, Queen of Scots. Moonlight broke through the window across the boards. A wooden cabinet inlaid with red hearts and gold stood by a closed door to what he guessed was a dressing room, and a four-poster bed rested against one wall next to another door.

Will leapt onto the bed and drew the curtain. Steadying his breathing, he listened, and waited. The thunder of boots crossed the floorboards, and then his pursuer skidded into the room, coming to a halt as though he could sense Will was nearby. Will listened as he moved around the chamber. A soft tread, the brush of fingers on wood. The door to the dressing room thrown open. The cabinet knocked to one side. The other door torn open, a blast of chill air stirring the curtains around the bed.

The footsteps came to a halt, followed by a moment of searching silence, before they moved towards the bed and stopped on the other side of the curtain. Soft exhalations disturbed the quiet. Will pictured them only inches apart, looking directly into each other's eyes.

Will felt calm, his heartbeat steady. He was focused, staring directly at the thick, embroidered drape. A long moment of deathly quiet.

The curtains were torn back forcibly. For a second, Will's gaze locked on the Hunter's dark eyes, and he saw in their infinite depths a coruscating intelligence. Then, with a single fluid motion, he drove his sword through the Hunter's throat.

"For my friend," Will said quietly.

He continued to watch the eyes flicker in shock, and then roll towards white as the Hunter slid backwards, off the sword, his hands going to his throat. Will leapt from the bed and thrust his weapon through his adversary's heart, and held it firmly in place until the Hunter crashed to the boards, dead.

Standing over him, Will surveyed the body for a moment, seeing something less than the Enemy that had haunted the nightmares of Englishmen, thinking of Tom Miller, dead at the end of a rope long before he had begun to reach his potential. Thinking of Jenny.

"Not even a balance," Will said coldly. He withdrew his sword and wiped it on the body.

From outside came a keening sound that set his teeth on edge, and he realised it was the sound of grief from a world beyond the one he knew. Somehow the other members of the Unseelie Court had sensed the death of one of their own.

As the sound of running feet echoed from the spiral staircase, Will bolted through the other door of the bedchamber into the Queen's Lobby, and then to a long gallery. Bounding down a flight of stairs, he encountered a mass of guards rushing towards him, led by the king himself. Fear burned in all their faces, and though they held swords and torches, there was little sign that they would be used.

"Master Swyfte," King James began, "I expected to find you at the heart of this disturbance."

"Apologies. I fear I have upset some of your guests."

A slight smile curved James's lips.

"They will not trouble you, but I believe they may want to introduce me to an unpleasant end," Will continued.

"Then I suggest you leave the palace forthwith, Master Swyfte, and we shall do all we can to ensure your pursuers are engaged in entertaining conversation! I hope you enjoyed the hospitality at the Palace of Holyroodhouse. You are welcome here any time."

With a grin and a bow, Will ran back out into the quadrangle, while James led his entourage towards the sound of the Unseelie Court in pursuit. Will knew the king would only be able to delay Cavillex and his group for a short while; time was of the essence.

He found an unsettled Nathaniel in the abbey, armed once again with the iron candlestick as he watched the door. Behind him, Meg tended to her father, who was sprawled on the flags.

"Come, Nat. We must take our leave," Will said.

Nathaniel's relief was palpable. "This is not the fun and games I was promised, Will. I will think twice the next time you invite me to a party." He turned to Meg and offered his hand, but she shook her head.

"I must tend to my father," she said, exchanging a long look of yearning with Nathaniel.

After a second, Nathaniel gave a restrained nod in parting and hurried to Will's side.

"There will be time to renew acquaintances another day," Will said.

"London is a world away." Nathaniel glanced back briefly as they passed through the door. With a wan smile, Meg waved goodbye. "And after this day, I understand why your time is spent in stews, and your heart your own."

"That is my world, Nat, not yours. I happen to like doxies. What they lack in romance, they make up for in vigorous entertainment."

The cloisters rang with the echoes of their running feet, and within seconds they were through the gatehouse to the forecourt where the carriages waited. Will informed Reidheid's driver that his master had instructed they be delivered to the house at Cowgate with speed.

Mere moments later, the carriage rattled through the gate in the west wall towards the sharply inclining cobbled street that led up to the castle. The city was dark, but candles burned in many of the windows in the tall stone houses on either side.

Will glanced back at the receding palace to ensure there was no sign of pursuit before settling back into the leather seat. He examined the amulet in the palm of his hand where it glowed dully in the half-light.

"This has been a good night, all told, Nat," he said. "We have escaped with the prize we sought, from under our Enemy's noses. We have shown them that England is a threat to be reckoned with-if they had not realised it yet, they know now they cannot abuse us with impunity. And-" He paused, allowing himself a moment to enjoy the memory. "-Tom Miller has been avenged. Our time in Edinburgh has been well spent. A victory on every front."

Lulled by the rocking of the carriage, Will put his feet up and considered the next stage. The Enemy would come looking for the Shield if they needed it to complete their mysterious plan, and that could possibly be used to England's advantage. A trap, perhaps. And then they could turn the tables and recover the Silver Skull, perhaps even strike a devastating blow at the Unseelie Court in the process.

He realised Nathaniel had slipped into morose silence, and was staring into the pitch black wynds that ran off the main street. "Thinking of Meg?" Will asked.

He shook his head. "Our enemies were not Spaniards, Will."

"Their allies-"

"Who were they?"

"Nat-"

"What were they, Will?"

A cold pit formed in the depths of Will's stomach. He would rather see Nathaniel dismissed and sent back to a more mundane life in the shires than be destroyed by the truth.

Before Will could put Nathaniel's mind at rest, a mournful howl echoed along the street from somewhere behind them. The cries of waking babies, the barks of chained dogs joining with it, the slams of shutters and doors, moved up the street like a drum roll.

Nathaniel started. "What was that? A hunting dog?" He paused uneasily. "I have heard no dog like that."

Will knew exactly what it was, and his frustration mounted and turned to anger. Pulling himself half out of the window, he peered back down the street, but there was only a sea of darkness. "Faster, driver!" he called. "As if the Devil was at your back!"

"Yes, sir!" At the driver's whip-crack, the horse picked up its pace so that Will and Nathaniel were thrown around in the back of the carriage.

"What is happening here?" Nathaniel said with an edge of desperation. "You urge the driver to speed because a dog howls? That makes no sense to me."

"The agents of the Spaniards do not give up easily, Nat," Will dissembled. "We need to reach the house in Cowgate where we will be safe, for now."

"Why safer there than here? Or at the palace?"

"Not now, Nat!" Will snapped.

Leaning out of the window once again, Will thought he could now see specks of red light swimming in that ocean of dark, and above the thunderous sound of the wheels on the cobbles, he wondered if he could truly hear the pounding of paws, like a blacksmith's hammers ...

"Hold tight, Nat! If you thought the journey to Edinburgh was hard, there is a rougher one to come!"

Glancing over his shoulder, the driver saw something that Will couldn't, for his face grew white and fixed in horror.

"Keep your eyes on the road!" Will yelled. "Let me worry about what is at our backs!"

As the howling grew louder, the driver cracked the whip wildly, driving the horse into a panic. The carriage skewed across the street, and as the driver guided it to the left towards Cowgate, it lifted off two wheels and threatened to turn over. Will and Nathaniel hurled themselves over to the other side to use their weight to bring the carriage down with a jolt.

"Damn him!" Will cursed. "He will kill us!"

"What scares him so?" Nathaniel shouted.

As the carriage raced down the slope towards Cowgate, Will dragged himself to look out of the window once more. The dog was by the side of the door, keeping pace perfectly. It turned its red eyes upon him, and then it leapt, jaws torn wide.

Will threw himself back just in time. Saliva splashed across his face as the motion of its snapping jaws caressed his skin.

The beast slammed against the side of the carriage with such force that it felt like they had been struck by another carriage. As the wheels skewed across the road again, the wood of the side and roof cracked and splintered under the brutal assault. The dog crashed across the roof and a second later the driver released a sickening shriek, abruptly cut short.

The carriage spun across the road in the opposite direction, the sound of the protesting wheels lost beneath the terrified neighing of the horse, quickly swallowed by a horrifying snarling as the dog tore the creature to pieces.

In the frenzy of the attack, the carriage pitched at an acute angle, hovered for a scant second, and then finally went over. Will and Nathaniel were flung across the interior as it crashed on the cobbles and skidded to a sudden, bone-jarring halt.

Dazed, Will checked on Nathaniel, who was stunned, lying in a heap. From nearby came wet echoes of the dog tearing through the remains of the horse. As he watched his friend, conflicting urges tore through Will. Could he put Nathaniel at risk of greater contact with the nightmarish world Will had protected him from for so long? What was more important: his friend's sanity and life, or the secret war?

"Nat! Nat!" Will whispered insistently, coming to a reluctant decision. "No bones broken? Good. I have work for you."

"N ... now?"

"Especially now." Will sat Nathaniel up and thrust the amulet into his hands with a pang of shattering regret and the feeling that he had damned him forever. "Take this back to the house. You will be safe there."

In the background, the rending and tearing died away.

"I am the one they want. I killed one of them. They believe I have the object they desire. You will have time to make good your escape before they realise their mistake."

"But they will kill you!"

A growl, circling the carriage.

"I made my peace with that outcome a long time ago. It is as inevitable as the snows of winter-if not now, then later." He pulled Nathaniel to his feet and helped him clamber out of the window above his head before flashing him a grin. "Know that I do not plan to go easily into the arms of the Reaper. "

The dog was near the remnants of the horse. Coming to a halt, it raised its head towards Will, baring its teeth.

"Will-" Nathaniel began hesitantly.

"You know me, Nat!" Will insisted. "I will demand my due reckoning. Now go!"

Nathaniel hesitated for only the briefest moment longer, but in that time Will saw his depth of concern, and friendship. He nodded and was gone.

Will drew his sword as the great black dog prepared to leap. The last thing he saw was Nathaniel weaving into the intense darkness of a foulsmelling close.

And then, with a snarl, the dog attacked.