Mark Chadbourn - The Silver Skull

"I killed several of your own. I helped bring about the death of Cavillex, one of your leaders. Help my friend regain his wits, and I will give myself to you for whatever punishment you see fit."

"Are you sure you are prepared to lay yourself open to our attentions? Our punishments are fierce."

"Nevertheless, that is my offer."

"Even though you will never see your kind again? Even though you will plead for a death that will never come?"

"I am ready."

Deortha was intrigued. "If you are ready, then those punishments have no value."

"Tell me about Dartmoor," Will said.

CHAPTER 61

ive carriages trundled along the rutted, muddy ways in the last light of the sun. The gale had finally blown itself out. From the window of the second carriage, Walsingham watched the shadows pool over the bleak Dartmoor uplands, the sense of apprehension mounting with each second of the day that passed away.

"You are still convinced this is the correct course?" he asked.

On the opposite seat, Dee kneaded his hands together, an anxious tic that had begun to irritate Walsingham as the journey from Plymouth drew on. "I am not convinced of anything in this world," he replied. "We fumble around, making what progress we can in the pitch dark of our existence, and hope for the best. "

"Hope for the best," Walsingham repeated, with a crack of anger born of his uneasiness. "How do we know they will not try to trap us?"

"We do not."

"And we take the queen into this danger, regardless?"

"Elizabeth made the decision herself. There is too much at stake for England to let an opportunity like this slip by. She has courage. You cannot deny her that merely because she is a woman. " Dee cast a critical eye over Walsingham.

"She could be dead by the time the sun rises. As could we all."

"I hope ... I hope I have done enough to convince them of our intentions," Dee said, now tugging at the hem of his cloak.

"I hope so too, Doctor. " Walsingham had always considered himself a good captain steering a steady course through the turbulent seas of his life, but at that moment he could barely contain his fears.

Promising more rain, the lowering clouds brought the dark in too soon. The carriages came to a halt four miles east of Yelverton on the western edge of the moor, and the guards busied themselves lighting lanterns to guide the way.

Wrapped against the autumn chill, Elizabeth held her head defiantly erect as she climbed down from the carriage, though Walsingham could see the fear in her eyes.

"Is all ready?" she asked him.

Resisting the urge to express his own doubts, he nodded and bowed.

"Then let us be done with this business. I dream of a warm fire." She strode out across the moor with the guards hurrying to keep up.

After ten minutes of steady walking, they came to the cairns and menhirs standing proudly against the darkening sky. Elizabeth cast a contemptuous look at the ancient monuments and said to Walsingham, "This is the place?"

"It is. It was chosen carefully. The preparations have been made."

"And now?"

"We wait. "

Darkness came down hard. Around the standing stones, the lanterns flickered in the harsh wind, offering little comfort. Finally, the moon broke through the clouds and they were there.

Walsingham almost cried out in shock, but the queen, to her credit, showed no sign of surprise. She rose to greet the arrivals. Forty of them stood on the edge of the circular indentation next to the standing stones, more than he had anticipated. His apprehension increased. Most of them had the look of armed guards, like the tight knot that surrounded Elizabeth, but two males carried themselves like aristocrats, heads held at a haughty angle, their clothes refined, though with a hint of decay. And at the front was the Faerie Queen. Her beauty was so potent it took his breath away. Brown hair tumbled in ringlets around her shoulders, and her flawless skin appeared to shine with a faint golden light. Her hazel eyes flashed with sexual magnetism. She wore a clinging gown of a green that appeared to reflect the night-dark grass all around. But beneath her appearance, something unsettling waited. Watching her, feeling the power she radiated, Walsingham dreaded what lay ahead.

"I am Elizabeth." She strode forwards confidently to address her counterpart.

"I know you are." The Faerie Queen smiled seductively, her voice mellifluous.

"We meet here as equals," Elizabeth said firmly.

The Faerie Queen gave a slight bow, but did not show any sign of agreement.

"You have preyed on my people for a great many years," Elizabeth continued.

"As you have preyed upon the animals of the field." The Faerie Queen caught herself, and smiled slyly. "We have been like shepherds, guiding you over the rough ground of your existence. At times you may have encountered ... difficulties. At times we were not as cautious in our dealings as we should have been. You yourself know this. Your encounters among your own kind have proved... turbulent."

"England will no longer tolerate..." It was Elizabeth's turn to catch herself. "The time for predators and victims is past," she continued, choosing her words carefully.

"I come to you as one queen to another," the Faerie Queen said. "Our intermediaries have agreed on the terms of our meeting. Members of the High Family are here to observe. " She indicated the two aristocratic males who both gave thin-lipped smiles in response. "There is an opportunity for a new relationship between our two nations. Peace, even. "

"Would you have responded so positively if our strength had not increased? Our defences? Our ability to challenge you for the first time?" Elizabeth asked.

Walsingham winced; the words were too bald, and he was afraid they would only drive the Enemy into an unnecessary confrontation.

The Faerie Queen's eyes flickered towards Dee. "You have gained a great deal indeed under the auspices of your wise and honourable counsel. " Smiling, she gave Dee a respectful bow. He nodded in return.

"I feared you would use this opportunity to attack us," Elizabeth stated.

The comment stung the Faerie Queen. "We are an honourable people. "

"You can afford to be," Elizabeth responded.

"Now!" Walsingham called.

From their hiding places in covered trenches, the fifty-strong army rose up as one, their pitch-covered arrows ablaze in an instant. As Elizabeth's guards rapidly guided her away from danger, the soldiers fired into the mass of startled Enemy. Many caught ablaze, their cries terrible to hear. Others retreated in the face of the onslaught.

A small group of soldiers grabbed the Faerie Queen and dragged her to Dee, who forced the contents of a small phial into her mouth. As her eyes flickered shut, the Enemy attempted to reach her, but the English soldiers blocked their path and drove them back with more arrows. The Enemy retreated into the slight indentation in the grassy ground next to the standing stones. Walsingham could see they were already preparing an assault that would no doubt be devastating.

The thin covering on the ground gave way beneath their feet and they plunged into a gaping hole, one of the pits the local tinners had used for lodeback work. The mine was not deep, but it would serve the purpose.

From their hiding place, the soldiers dragged the barrels of pitch and sulphur, setting them alight and flinging them into the pit one after the other. The screams that rose up would haunt all present for the rest of their days.

When the flames soared so high the soldiers were forced to back away from the edge, the dreadful cries finally died away.

Shielding his eyes from the blaze, Walsingham announced to Elizabeth, "You said you dreamed of a warm fire."

"Enough!" she said with restrained fury. "This night has blackened the history of England! Oh, how can I live with the memory of our treachery!"

Chastened, Walsingham replied, "The ends will justify the means." He gestured to the unconscious Faerie Queen, her wrists and ankles now bound under Dee's direction. "She will be our prisoner for all time, locked away at the top of the Lantern Tower where she will serve as the crux of Dees magical defences for our country. The Enemy will be kept at bay, their power muted."

Elizabeth did not appear convinced.

"This dark night will fade against the golden days that lie ahead," Walsingham pressed. "England ... finally free of the grip of an Enemy that has hounded our people for sport, slaughtered them, mutilated them, defiled their lives, and spoiled their dreams. The English people have always deserved peace, and now they will get it. "

"I do not share your conviction, Lord Walsingham. " She glanced back at the burning pit and then quickly averted her gaze. "I fear this night will echo down the years forever, and none of us will know sleep."

CHAPTER 62

or a moment, Will was convinced he could smell smoke on the wind, but it was just the enchantment of Deortha's words.

"You understand now," Deortha concluded.

In his pale eyes, Will saw the depth of emotion, and understood so much that had troubled him: what was kept in the room at the top of the Lantern Tower; why the Unseelie Court had risked so much to attack the Palace of Whitehall, and why they needed the Shield as protection when they unleashed the Silver Skull's plague; the comments Cavillex had made in Edinburgh about Dartmoor; and why the Enemy was so determined to destroy England.

"This madness will never end," Will said. "Each atrocity drives worse from the opponent in a spiral of horror."

"It will end," Deortha said firmly, leaving no doubt as to his meaning.

"No one can win," Will pressed. "There is no good here, no evil. Everything is tarnished. Do we even remember why we fight?"

"We remember."

"We continue this war, then, like the dogs tearing chunks off each other in the pits in the inn-yards of Bankside?" His bitterness made the words catch in his throat.

"What your kind did that night can never be forgotten, or forgiven," Deortha said coldly.

"And what you did to England for generation upon generation-"

"Then you understand fully. There can be no peace. We are too much alike."

Will felt as desolate as the dark landscape stretching out into the night.

"There is worse to come," Deortha continued. "Cavillex's death is a bitter blow to the High Family, which has already suffered greatly in this conflict. His brothers and sister burn with the desire for vengeance. Your nation will soon fear the heat of their response."

"It never ends," Will said to himself. "Then grant my request. Help my friend and let them take me and punish me for their brother's death."

For the first time, Deortha's laughter was filled with clear contempt. "You think you are a fair exchange for a member of the High Family? If all your countryfolk were put to death, and your nation burned to the ground, it still would not make amends. You mean ... nothing."

Will set his jaw. "Then you will not help me?"

Deortha considered for a moment and then said, "I will help." His smile chilled Will.

"The conditions?"

"You must make a choice. Aid for your friend ... or an answer to the mystery that consumes your nature: what happened to your lost love."