The Devil in Green (93 page)

'We'll debate which side we fall on later,' Sophie said.

They stepped into the chapel and when they looked back, the Caretaker and the doorway to his realm were gone. Beyond the low wooden walls of the chapel, the cathedral was quiet.

'I'm betting they've already blocked off the tunnel,' Mallory whispered. 'I reckon our only option is to get on to the walls and lower ourselves over,' he mused. 'Don't know how we're going to do that. The whole of the cathedral is between us and the way out.'

'I might be able to help there.' She turned away from him, lowering her head so that her hair hung across her face. He heard whispered words that made no sense to him, and then her body grew stiff and trembled with the strain. When she turned back, her face was drawn. Though the Blue Fire had re-energised her, her reserves were still low and easily drained.

'What was that all about?' he asked quietly.

'A little inclement weather to mask our tracks.'

Cautiously, he approached the door.

'Mallory?'

The voice made him start. He turned to see Miller standing at the front of the chapel; the young knight had obviously been on his knees in prayer, hidden behind the rows of chairs.

As Sophie went to the door to peek out, Miller rushed over and grabbed Mallory's hand desperately. 'How did you get out?' he said, his eyes wide with amazement.

Sophie was beckoning; the cathedral was empty.

'Mallory, take me with you.' Miller's fingers closed tighter around Mallory's hand; there was a profound desperation to him that was quite shocking.

'You're better off here, Miller. I don't fancy my chances outside the walls—'

'No, no, you don't understand. You
have
to take me with you.' His gaze ranged around the chapel with unbearable anxiety. 'Stefan's going ahead with the testing . . . using the relic.'

'You've got nothing to hide.'

Miller's eyes fell; his whole body appeared to shrink. Mallory had forgotten about the beast from Bratton Camp. Was that why he was so afraid - that the relic would expose him as the one who had slaughtered Cornelius and the others?

'What is it?' Mallory asked.

'I killed my girlfriend!' He blurted the words out, then collapsed in sobs.

Mallory stood dumbfounded, trying to comprehend what Miller had said. 'You
killed
her?' He recalled Miller telling him how he had fled his home after his girlfriend had dumped him for some local thug.

'I didn't mean to,' Miller whined. 'She was the only thing I had in the
world ...
the only reason I had for living. I begged her to stay, but she wasn't having any of it. When she started to go, I grabbed hold of her . . . she fought me
off. . .
and . . . and I hit her.' His eyes burned with devastation. 'I didn't mean to! I loved her! I just couldn't
cope ...
I was weak . . . pathetic . . .'He sucked in air to stop a wracking sob. 'She went down . . . didn't get up . . .'

'You killed her?' Mallory repeated in disbelief. Miller's story resonated throughout him with a strength that stunned him.

Miller saw it reflected on Mallory's face. 'Don't judge .me, Mallory,' he pleaded. 'Not you. I couldn't bear it if you judged me. You're such a good man . . . you were the one who gave me the strength to keep going

'You're blind, Miller . . . and stupid.' Mallory felt queasily empty, felt like laughing at the stupid irony of the situation. Miller had given
him
hope. He'd seemed so decent and honest, so innocent. But he was just like everyone else. There was nothing to which anyone could aspire, nothing at all.

'I came here to do penance, Mallory,' Miller continued amid the tears. 'To earn my redemption. I didn't think I had any hope until I met you. You gave me hope, Mallory. You saved my life—'

'Yes, and wasn't I a stupid bastard.' He looked to Sophie, who was watching them nervously. She motioned frantically for him to hurry up.

'The relic will show what I did!' Miller continued. 'The mood in this place now . . . it's all turned sour. They won't forgive me, Mallory. They won't give me a chance. I'm afraid of what they'll do to me.' Pathetically, he threw his arms around Mallory's legs, sobbing.

Mallory pushed him off with the roughness of someone who'd been betrayed. 'You made your bed, Miller - you've got to lie in it. Same as all of us.'

He marched over to Sophie, untouched by Miller's crying. 'What was that all about?' she asked.

'Nothing.' Mallory tried to ignore the desolation he felt. 'Come on, we'd better move.'

They slipped out, and Mallory didn't look back once.

The nave was dark and deserted; Mallory had lost all sense of time and had no idea how long it would be until the next service. Keeping his sword firmly in its scabbard so that the blue glow didn't attract attention, he led Sophie towards the door at the west end.

They'd progressed barely twenty feet into the nave when a cry made them jump. A brother on guard had been sitting unseen in the quire and was quick to raise the alarm. They hurried towards the exit, but before they were halfway to it, the door crashed open and three Blues burst in, brandishing swords. Mallory recognised the group they had ridiculed during the snowball fight.

There were too many of them to confront. Anxiously, he looked around. Several guards had entered silently through the south transept and were approaching from behind. Without thinking, he ran for the only door within their reach.

Once he'd slammed it behind him, he cursed profusely.

'What's wrong?' Sophie asked breathlessly.

'This is the way up,' he said angrily. 'To the spire. There's no way out here.'

'Well, we can't go back,' she said. 'If they recapture us, we won't have another chance.'

Dismally, Mallory took the steps two at a time with Sophie following close behind. It was an exercise in futility, but that had never stopped him before. The advantage of height on the stairs would mean that at least he would be able to take a few of the Blues out with him. Strangely, Sophie didn't appear in the least depressed that they were going into a corner.

The door crashed open behind them and the sounds of pursuit followed quickly. Mallory held back so that Sophie could go ahead, leaving him space to protect her back.

'How high are you planning on going?' he said sourly. 'Or are you just trying to give me a work-out before the last?'

'Shut up, Mallory,' she said, without looking back. 'Goddess, you don't half moan.'

With the air burning in their lungs, they raced up the interior of the square tower. It was two hundred feet to the top of the second stage - Mallory had climbed up there once for a peaceful view over the city. Timber stays and iron ties and braces held the structure steady. They passed the windlass at the base of the spire that had been used to raise stone from the ground when it was being built, and then Sophie led them out of a door to the base of the octagonal spire.

They were met by a sharply gusting wind so cold it felt as though their skin was being flayed. Snow was driven into their flesh like needles.

'Why don't we stay inside?' Mallory yelled above the gale. The wind buffeted him against the cold stone. His head spun when he looked out across the dark landscape; it would be easy to get blown off the tiny walled area and dashed on to the ground far below. 'I can make a stand better at the top of the stairs. It's harder to defend this area.'

'We're not defending,' Sophie shouted back. Her hair lashed across her face, making a mockery of her constant attempts to pull it away from her eyes. She was shivering from the cold. Mallory went to put his arms around her to warm her. His heart felt like a cold rock at the thought that they wouldn't be able to spend any time getting to know each other. What a stupid way for it to end.

But Sophie fended him off, then pointed over his head. 'No. Keep climbing.'

He followed the direction of her finger. Iron rungs had been hammered into the stone of the spire. They appeared to rise up to the summit one hundred and sixty feet above their heads.

'Are you mad?' The simple act of looking up brought a rush of vertigo. If he attempted to climb, he would be blown off in an instant. Besides, it led nowhere. The Blues could afford to wait until they fell, froze or climbed down. 'Or are you looking for some spectacular way to commit suicide? Personally, I'd—'

She took his hand. The sounds of pursuit could now easily be heard through the door. 'Just trust me,' she said.

He looked into her eyes, which were wide and honest, and he surprised himself by realising that he did trust her, more than himself. Cursing, he turned and gripped the first icy iron rung and hauled himself up.

Ten feet up and it took all Mallory's strength just to hang on. The wind attacked like a wild animal, throwing him from side to side. He had to hook his arms inside the rungs to prevent himself from being thrown off the spire. He feared for Sophie, who was physically weaker than him, but though he sensed she was close behind, the stinging blizzard prevented him from looking down long enough to see her.

The crash of the door swinging open, though, came loud enough to rise above the gale. The bark of their pursuers was angry and disbelieving, and he could just make out a furious debate about what should be done.

'Keep going,' Sophie called up to him.

Mallory felt delirious. The weakness from his incarceration and lack of food combined with his incomprehension to make his head spin. If he kept his eyes fixed on the dwindling stone column in front of him, he was
OK.
But the snow made the landscape bright and his eyes would repeatedly be drawn to the white roofs and rolling hills, and then down, down, down to the cathedral compound a dizzying fall below.

It was just as his stomach turned at the contemplation of the drop that a particularly strong gust of wind tore over the peaks and troughs of the new buildings and wrenched at his legs. They were ripped away from the security of the rungs, flying out horizontally away from the spire. The shock tore the breath from his throat. He yelled out, tried to grip on to the rungs, but he couldn't feel his numb fingers, couldn't tell if they were holding or slipping.

He heard Sophie scream, then saw his knuckles sliding over the edge of the rung. The wind tugged harder; the snow lashed his face. He felt the fall before it happened, experienced the air being sucked from his lungs, that final shattering impact, his body exploding at every joint . . .