Thomas grimaced, and hesitantly stepped up on the sill. The distance to the ground seemed further than it had a moment ago. Dizzy, he clutched the lintels to either side. The winged nightmare swirled about him like autumn leaves in a gale, until he could not see the ground. He could not bring himself to leap from the building.
He hurled the silver key from him, so that the enemy could not claim it. It twinkled like a falling star. He lost sight of it somewhere in the gulf of air between him and the dark road below.
“Constrain, confound, confuse, hold fast! So speaks the voice from the brazen mask! Your fear is full, your faith is weak! No man withstands when the Warlocks speak!” The voice that rang through the cold air was not Kicktoad's soft and bubbling voice, but something older, something colder, a voice of terror that Tommy remembered from long ago. He could feel the spell tightening around him like so many spider threads, and he no longer had the key to free himself.
He found he was too afraid to move. Whether it was the nightmare sensation of the black batlike scraps that swirled around him, or his own common sense and common fear, Tommy simply could not make himself leap sixty feet to the ground.
“Jump!” said the cat.
Tommy jumped. But he jumped the small, safe distance down from the sill, backward into the room, instead.
He turned and Jasconius, the sea serpent, was standing next to him, her eyes like two blue lamps. Without a smile, she opened her mouth, and vapor filled his vision, and the smell of the sea filled his nose, and Tommy could neither see nor breathe. If he hit the floor when he fell, he did not remember it later.
His dreams were nothing but nightmares, terrifying images of pursuit and capture and a mocking black panther, daring him to leap to his death.
4. Sally
The new year had come and gone, and February was approaching before he found her.
For four long months, Tommy had searched for Sarah Truell. Fifteen years ago, she married a serviceman named Delacourt and changed her last name, after which the Royal Navy had moved him from one post to another, making it difficult to track her down. She lived in a little row house outside the Navy yards in Dover, with the tiniest strip of garden before the front door. Her house was the only one sanded and painted, bright and cheerful, along the whole row: her house alone still wore its Christmas lights. A white birdbath, filled now with ice, was surrounded by neat flowerbeds, filled now with snow, in the center of her tiny lawn. Her neighbors had rubbish poking through the white hillocks of their yards, and an abandoned hulk of an auto was rusting, coated with icicles, in the street nearby.
Despite the years, she recognized him at once and invited him into her little home, exclaiming in surprise how fit and strong he looked for a man his age, and how he had kept his hair. Inside it was breathlessly hot. Her rooms were thronged with bookshelves and hung with many potted plants. Every table had some fragile vase or piece of bric-a-brac upon it. There were small delicate statues and intricately carven music boxes, of which she had a large collection. The house was crowded, as if being squeezed together by converging walls, but prim and neatly kept.
Thomas was surprised to see how old Sarah seemed, how cautious and slow her movements were. She was not yet forty, younger than Thomas, yet her hair had gone all gray, and she wore it on a bun knotted tightly on her head. She listened carefully to the story Thomas told, but was distracted several times by seeing Tybalt climb among the bookshelves, afraid he would knock down a crystal piece or tiny lamp.
“What? Go out on an adventure? Like when we were children? By star, by stone, by shining spear, I call upon the gathered hosts of light… Like that? Oh, it would be charming! Those days were so sweet. But I cannot help you, Tommy. Who knows what might happen if I did?”
“Richard pretended not to remember anything. At first. He said it was a game we played. But how can you stand idle, Sarah, knowing what our dread foe is? Have you forgotten?”
“Oh, I remember everything,” she said wistfully. “At times I still recall the perfume of the flowers when they bloomed, after the Winter King and all his troops were beaten in the Battle of Glad Valley.
“The snow all vanished in a torrent of clear water, streaming down the hillsides, sweeping away all the vile things left by the white wolves and trolls; and where the knights of the Summer Land strode singing, flowers sprang up and barren trees burst suddenly to green, like a thousand springtimes rolled up into one. The floods washed all the bad things into the sea, but any house which had hung a wreath or pine-branch on its door was safe, and not even their eaves were damp.”
Tommy smiled. Leave it to Sarah to remember the miracle of the wreaths. He had forgotten that.
She continued: “I remember the feast on the fields of Caer Linden, and how the tree-women came out of the forests to dance, while the faerie-folk danced in the air overhead, held up by the joy of their singing alone. The tables were laid with white linens, and groaned under the baskets of fruits and fair foods which all the country people brought to give thanks for the return of their Prince. The coronation was all splendor; Prince Hal crowned with the Garland Crown and all the flowers bloomed. The Elf King, Finbarra, he danced with me, did you see? He drew me up high in the air, and the crystal floor of heaven rang underfoot, and I heard the stars singing their hymns in the night.”
Sarah's eyes filled with tears at the memory. “Excuse me,” she said, and took a pressed hankie out of the pocket of her skirt, and dabbed at her eyes. “We never should have come back to this world. It's so dirty. It's so foul. And there's nothing you can do about any of it. Everything is so…complicated. Over there, next to the seashell is a harp I bought in Wales. Don't touch it! It's very fragile. I have it to remind me of the harp of Finbarra I carried on our quest to the Hall of Silence, in Icelock. Do you remember how sweetly the nightingale sang when we let her go free from her cage? And how Tybalt tried to eat her at first! Poof! You nasty thing!” Now she laughed and waved her hankie at Tybalt.
Tybalt looked at her disdainfully and began to lick the fur of his shoulder.
“But I'm worried, Tommy,” she whispered, eyes wide. “You were not the first to come. The police were here, six weeks ago, asking after you. What have you done?”
Tommy was seated uncomfortably on a chair slightly too small for him. His arms were muscled with the exertions of his adventures and escapes over the last two months; his face darkened by weather and wind. He wore a beard now. He was afraid to move his arms, or even shift in his seat, for fear of knocking over the bottles or blown glass objets d'art on the little tables to either side of him.
“We have been called to battle, once again, against our ancient foe,” he told her. “And to walk once more beneath the banners of the Sons of Light. The Champion of the Dark is here, in England, and he covets all this world for his prize. I dare not face him until his secret name is known to me. No strength of hand can overcome him; his name is written in elf-light ink in Penny's old book. I have not found Penny's heirs as yet, and what is written in elf-writing cannot be read except by the light of the Sword Reforged. I sought the sword from Richard.”
She smiled. “Oh! Brave Richard! He grew up into such a handsome man! Not like you!” She giggled and waved her hanky toward him. “I hear he's become quite wealthy now. He never comes by to see me. I sent him a letter once…”
Tommy spoke in a voice like iron. “Richard is no longer a friend to the Summer Country. He betrayed me to Kicktoad, who has taken up the Mask of Brass and become the new Faceless Warlock.”
Sally cried out in dismay. “Oh, that cannot be. The dear little green boy?”
“Kicktoad is grown and calls himself by another name now. He found his master's magic wand and returned to his master's trade. The ghosts of his dead warlocks live in the mask he wears, and see through his eyes, and speak through his lips. I tried to save Richard, give him a way out, but he would not take it. Richard and Kicktoad brought me to an airport near the sea, where a voice from the water called t
o Richard, and he was dragged into the dark waters, screaming, to his doom. The life of wealth he bought from the Sea Witch has come to an end.”
Sarah blinked away tears. “But that cannot be! He was a champion of the Sons of Light! We finished our adventure, long ago. He should have lived happily ever after. Isn't that how it is supposed to be when the story ends?”
“The story never ends, Sarah. I have learned it merely changes to another and another and goes on. The servants of the enemy were displeased with Kicktoad too. They had no more use for him, so they summoned the ten thousand iron-beaked ravens of the Dark to tear the flesh from him and his two servants. And so he died, and his bones were left unburied on the beach. The Warlock's mask was carried off by the ravens to find another master.”
“How horrible! But those terrible ravens were gone! The perfume from the bloom of the Forever Tree drove them away, past Mount Whitecrown, and into the lifeless wasteland. We saw it!”
“And from thence they came here, or the enemy has a raven-master who knows the secret names to draw them to this world.”
“Poor Kicktoad!”
“The enemy always destroys its tools and its toys when they are finished with them,” said Tommy. He decided not to tell her that Donny and Jass had been Kicktoad's servants, the knowledge would only cause her further grief. “The enemy transported me in an aeroplane to take me to the East, where their powers are stronger, and where they have countries whose evil rulers worship the Darkness almost openly.
“Their Champion came into where I was chained in the hold of the aeroplane, to gloat at and to mock at me. He occupied the body of Lord Wodenhouse, the minister of the Admiralty, and wore his uniform. But there was nothing inside his body, and there was no light in his eyes.
“He boasted that our defense of England had already failed. He told me of secret meetings of the Admiralty counsel at midnight in the ruins of an ancient pre-Roman temple, and spoke of the horrible oaths sworn to apparitions in the tombs.
“He told me of the members of Parliament, those few who could not be made to swear, or who made some attempt to tell others of what they had seen in the tombs. His nighthags and wraith-maidens would go to their homes, and cling to the walls outside their windows, and sing to the sleeping men in voices only they could hear. Sometimes a wife would find her husband's stiff and empty body in her bed the next morning. But more often, before anyone had noticed, the enchanted men were taken and replaced, one by one, by a stranger who looked and spoke and acted like just as they had done.
“Lord Wodenhouse said his greatest support in the halls of power were from those Lords and ministers who had formerly opposed his rise to power. These men were never seen to eat or drink in public, rarely laughed, and when they did laugh, never smiled.
“'They take their sustenance from other things,' he told me, 'Things men have never denied unto my kind; their praise and smiles and flattery are sufficient to sustain us. But our hunger, O foolish man, our hunger never dies.' And he promised me that I should perish, after torture, on the altar he had erected to his Master.
“But Tybalt followed me into the hold of the airplane, carrying the silver key I'd thrown away. I used the key to unlock my chains. There were none of the enemy around me; the Knight of Shadows feared his men might learn his nature from me. The body he inhabited was weak; easily I took him by the throat. But he was unafraid, telling me no weapon could harm him, for, if his body were destroyed, he would flee into other flesh.
“I squeezed his throat until he coughed and dared him to flee the flesh he wore. He spat at me and reviled me, but he did not flee. By this, I knew he needed the face and form, the fame and power, of Lord Wodenhouse to do his evil work in England.
“Then his marines came into the cabin, weapons ready, wearing the mark of the Evil Eye on their brows. But I released the Knight of Shadows, opened the door of the plane, and leaped from it. The suction whirled the enemy, screaming, out into the night sky with me. Tybalt, you see, had taught me a charm to allow me to land on my feet without hurt, no matter how high the fall.
“This time I trusted to Tybalt. I fell to earth and I did not die. A group of Normandy farmers saw me plunge from the sky and land on my feet, unharmed, in the middle of an open field. But they did not fear me; they seemed to understand my plight. It was almost as if they knew I served the Elf King; they hid me from the police and on Christmas Eve they feasted with me.
“With their help, I was smuggled back into England after the New Year. I went to Penkirk's old place, but the servants of the Shadow were there before me. I saw the housekeeper had the worm sign on her. Tybalt taught me how to climb like a cat and see in the dark, so I scaled the wall at night and used the key to open the attic window. In a crate, packed in straw, was the Crystal Cup of Vision which the Professor brought back from Vidblain when he was a child.”
Sarah nodded. “I remember…I remember now. He told us. The Professor traveled there long ago, with the cabman's daughter, Nell. She stayed behind, and became their queen, the first of Prince Hal's line. I think the Professor missed her. He never saw her again. Do you have the Cup? I wonder that he never used it to see her.”
“No. The housekeeper came into the attic through the floorboards, breaking them as she rose up, and I used the key to reveal her true form, which was that of a hideous monster. I escaped through the attic window, but her enchantments nearly snared me on the threshold. I fled, but I was dazzled and eventually fell to the ground, frothing. A man who found me took me to a hospital.
“The doctors diagnosed me as an epileptic, and their medicines cured me. But some of the police are agents of the enemy and they found my name out while I was there. I escaped by climbing the walls in the dark, and leaping from the roof. I fled and I hid. When I thought it was safe to approach you, I came.”
Sarah listened, wide-eyed. “It is too terrible. They can't be here. It can't happen here!”
Tommy grimaced. “It is already happening here. It has grown worse even in the short time I was away in France. Many of the men on the docks—the shore patrol, the police, the Navy men—I saw the Unseen Mark upon their foreheads, or in their palms. They have been branded with the Sign of the Evil Eye. They have sworn fealty to the Enemy; I fear Her Majesty's government is corrupt, spell-caught, and overcome. All men of good will must join together to fight this foe; we each must do our utmost.”
“I cannot help you, Tommy,” Sarah said quietly. She would not meet his eyes.
“You must. Listen; I will tell you what we face.”
“Don't tell me.”
“Listen! In the sewers under London I saw a filthy pool filled with vampires. They were wallowing there, weak and helpless in the mire, chanting spells. Their crooked limbs were thin as reeds; their bellies were swollen, like those of starving children. Their songs called up to the streets above and drew a line of people down the dripping stairs.”
Sarah twisted uncomfortably in her chair. She shook her head, but did not speak. Thomas, staring at her without remorse, continued his narrative.
“Tybalt made me put wax in my ears, for their songs were too piteous and beautiful for men to withstand, he said. I saw it all, I tell you! Men, women, and even children were filing up to the edge of the mire and cutting their own wrists with knives or razors or with their own teeth. The vampires lay below with upturned mouths, pushing and vying to drink the blood. It was ghastly! But worst of all, whenever a vampire tried to climb out of the muck, and join the humans on the sewer stairs, tried to become human again, the other vampires would pull him back down and bite him, to ensure he remained a vampire.”
“Tommy, stop! Please! Tell me no more! What is it that you ask of me?”
“Tybalt told me we needed the shard of the Mirror to defeat them before the vampires get too strong and rise up. They are agents of the Winter King; they cannot live in fertile or green land; they cannot stand to see their own reflections; they lose all their power once they see themselves for what they a
re.”
“Is that all you want? The shard? Of course I still have it!” She got up and went over to a carven cabinet, from which she took a little box of cedar wood. She brought it back with her and held it for a moment in her lap. “I kept it for a keepsake. But if you must have it…”
She unlocked and opened the cedar box. Inside was a fold of white silk; she carefully unwrapped a triangular shard of black glass. It shone and glimmered like polished black marble, a beautiful thing to behold.
“Take it and go!” she said, extending it toward him.
“Why are you afraid to come with me? What has filled you so full of fear?”
She did not answer, but seemed to shrink in on herself, huddling.
A terrible thought struck him. “Is your husband one of them?”
“I don't know. I don't want to know.” She shivered. She tried to smile, but the effort was pathetic. “The good things in life, they are so weak, so fragile. Elfs, the tree-maidens, the little birds. What can such small things do to stop the onslaught of Winter?”
“Have you forgotten? The flowers drive back the winter every spring.”
“But not men,” she said, “Evil men are not hobbled by sentiment; beauty doesn't stop them. Flowers die. Even dreams die when we wake.”
“No, dreams are the source of all strength. Men can no more live without them than they can live without air or bread. Even twisted men must harbor dreams, if only twisted ones. No, I will tell you what truly hobbled me: when I tried for so long to live without my childhood dreams. It nearly killed me. Now I walk in a dream made real, upon the path of Light. My steps are sure. Join me, Sarah. Step out from the shadow.” He stood up slowly, and extended his hand toward her. His hand was tanned and strong; the muscles and veins along the back of his hand stood out sharply.
Sally shivered and shook her head. “All beautiful things must fade some day. You know that.” She sniffed and shook her head again. “Just look at me, Tommy. You see what I see in the mirror.”