The Mirror's Tale (Further Tales Adventures) (22 page)

“Thank you, Tristan,” Aunt Elaine said. Tristan tied one end of the rope to an iron ring that was secured to the wall. He tossed the coil over.

“Are you sure you can you make it down?” Tristan asked her.

“I don’t see why not,” Aunt Elaine said. She swung her legs over, wrapped them around the rope, and began to lower herself to the ground, some thirty feet below.

Will looked up at Tristan. This whole episode had his head spinning, but he could tell this man was taking a great risk by helping him. “Thank you,” he said.

“I’m doing it for her, lad,” Tristan whispered back, jutting his chin toward the place where Aunt Elaine had disappeared. “My arm would’ve rotted off if it wasn’t for that angel’s medicine. Of course, you can always put in a good word for me with the baron.” He looked over the wall. “She’s made it. Down you go.”

Will was beside his aunt a moment later. “Follow,” she said. She led him along the foot of the mountain, away from The Crags. They went down a gully filled with
loose stones, crouching low to stay out of sight. Will was bursting with questions.
Why am I in danger? Where’s my brother?
But he knew it wasn’t safe to talk yet.

At the bottom of the gully a soldier stood holding the reins of two horses. There was something familiar about him, and Will realized that he looked like a younger version of the watchman they’d just met, with the same round face, small eyes, and upturned nose.

“I can’t thank you enough, Thurstan,” Aunt Elaine said. “You and your father have fine hearts.”

“Not as fine as yours,” Thurstan said, flashing a nervous smile.

There was a blue cloak draped over the smaller horse. It looked like something a woman would wear. Aunt Elaine handed it to Will. “Put this on,” she said. “If we’re seen, they’ll think you’re my servant.”

Thurstan spoke quietly as they mounted their horses. “Be careful, dear lady. We saw some strange beasts on the northern ledge early this morning—right over there.”

Will straightened in his saddle. “The beasts were here?”

Thurstan peered up curiously. “That’s right, lad. A whole pack of them,” he said. His neck craned forward as he looked closely at Will. “Say, you look just like your twin. But that’s the point of twins, ain’t it?”

“You’ve seen Bert! Is he all right?” Will asked breathlessly. Thurstan opened his mouth to speak, but closed it again after a glance at Aunt Elaine.

“There’s no time, Will,” Aunt Elaine said, tugging her reins to guide her horse.

“You’ll let the baron know I helped, wont you lad? Put in a word for me?” Thurstan said as Will trotted away.

Will waved feebly He gnawed on his upper lip as he stared at his aunt.
You still haven’t told me where my brother is!

CHAPTER 36

B
ert peered at every link of the chain. He tugged at the metal plate that secured it to the stone wall. He pried at the shackle around his ankle. It was no use. He was trapped.

A strange feeling came over him as if his brain had turned to water and sloshed inside his skull. It made him so dizzy that he lowered himself to the floor, so he wouldn’t faint and crack his head. A grinding pain flared behind his eyes, and he felt like he was boiling from the inside out. Sweat erupted all over his body, soaking his clothes and leaving him as wet as if he’d been lying in a tub. He’d felt something like this once before, when he’d been ill—and Will was sick with him, of course—and a terrible fever had finally broken.

And then he began to shiver. He hugged himself and tucked his knees against his chest. The chamber felt cold as ice.

“Mirror, what’s wrong with me?” he moaned. “What have you done to me?” But he knew what it had done. It had cast him aside. Betrayed him. The mirror might have been lost forever if not for him. But it only
befriended him, until it discovered someone more useful.

He heard the inner voice again, the one the mirror crushed. It was still weak, but getting stronger,
Bert, what have you been up to? Don’t you realize what you’ve done?

And then, as if he was waking from a dream, he remembered exactly what he’d done while in the mirror’s thrall. He opened his mouth wide, but the horror was so great he couldn’t even scream. He rolled onto his stomach and clenched his hands onto the back of his head.

“Will,” he gasped, He’d created those monsters and sent them after his brother. By some miracle Will had gotten away, but now he was coming here, right into his uncle’s grasping hands. And when Will arrived, one of them would die.

It should be me,
Bert thought.

The beasts were resting in a protective circle around the mirror. The nearest one turned a frosted eye toward Bert. Its tongue slithered sideways across the jumble of jagged teeth. A low growl issued from somewhere deep in its throat.

“W-W-Why did I do all those things?” Bert said through chattering teeth, “Mirror, why d-did you make me do it?”

He didn’t expect a response. But the surface of the mirror shimmered and clouded. It was like staring into a fog. He saw a dark form nearing the surface. It had done this before, but always stopped before fully revealing
itself. This time the form approached until only a thin, transparent veil of mist covered it.

The thing was shaped like a face and had the color of bruised and rotting flesh. It filled the mirror from top to bottom, as big as a shield, and it was mounted on the end of a long jointed neck that vanished into the depths of the glass. At first Bert saw no features at all—no mouth, no nose, no eyes. Then there
were
eyes—fist-size, lidless eyes, at least five of them, popping up all over the face, and then sinking in again, like onions in a boiling soup. The strange skin bubbled and shifted and squirmed with a sickening oozy sound. Bert was on the verge of understanding why it moved liked that—what the skin was
made
of—but he didn’t want to know. He threw his arm across his face to block the sight.

Why now?
he thought.
Why didn’t you show me your real face until now?
But it was obvious: The mirror fooled him from the start, never revealing its true self. But now that it didn’t need him anymore, it was pleased to show its face. Bert’s shivers grew worse, but it wasn’t just from the chills.

The mirror spoke.
I did not make you do those things, Bertram. Don’t you understand? I only helped you pursue what you really wanted.
The voice was different now. Before it was reassuring, loving. Now it dripped with cold contempt. It mocked him.

“No, never! I’d never hurt my brother!” Bert cried.

Those things were in your heart. In your soul.

“No—you put them there!”

You can tell yourself that if you want. But it doesn’t matter. Now your heart and soul are mine, the mirror said. Like the others.

My soul? Others?
Bert dared to peek out over the top of his arm. He wished he hadn’t. Now the awful face was crystal clear. The skin moved, because it was covered with tiny, writhing worms. No, not covered with them; the skin
was
made of those things. And as Bert stared, transfixed by horror, the maggoty things wriggled away from the middle of the face, leaving a gaping mouth hole behind. Bert glimpsed transparent figures inside the throat, and heard unearthly moans.
Ghosts!
It was hard to tell one from the other, the way they faded and blurred together, but they looked like ancient, burly men with long flowing beards. They swam toward the opening with vaporous arms reaching out as if they might escape that maw. But before they reached the surface, the worms wriggled in again. The mouth shrank and closed, leaving a thin, curving smile for a moment before even that was completely erased.

Bert’s mind went numb. He wished he would faint. That would be merciful. He rolled onto his side and put his back to the mirror.

He saw one of the beasts cowering against the wall nearby. Even those vile creatures had slunk away from the face of the mirror. Bert heard them whine and saw them look toward the Tunnel of Stars. He heard footfalls
on the steps. And his uncle’s words haunted his ears.

I’ll bring your cowardly brother down as soon as he arrives. Then I’ll choose which one of you I’ll need, and feed the other to my dogs.

His heart twisted inside his chest as the steps descended. And then his uncle came in alone. Lord Charmaigne strode across the chamber, muttering furiously.

Bert seized his chance. “Look at the mirror, Uncle Hugh! Look at the face! Don’t you see? The mirror isn’t your friend, it’s a—”

“Quiet!” his uncle snapped, putting a hand on the hilt of his sword. “That brother of yours is a slippery rat. But I can find him. Wherever he hides.” Uncle Hugh took another stride and stood before the mirror.

He’ll see the face!
Bert thought.
Then hell understand.
But he cried aloud when he saw that the demon face had vanished, and the mirror’s surface shimmered handsomely once more.

“Mirror,” Uncle Hugh said. “There’s something I must know.”

CHAPTER 37

A
unt Elaine finally slowed so their horses could rest, just as they entered a forest of birch. Will stopped beside her, aching to know what was wrong with his brother. But before he could ask, he heard the sound of pursuit. Horses, pounding the earth, A man shouted orders in the distance.

His aunts head turned and her face went pale. “What? I don’t understand—we weren’t seen! How could they know?” She bit her lip. Then a fierce look came to her eyes. “Come on, Will!” She kicked at the side of her horse and rode swiftly into the trees.

Will followed. He looked over the tops of the trees at a high cliff that curved around the forest on either side, and wondered why his aunt led them into a place with no escape.
More bad terrain!

The horses galloped at a reckless pace, threading between the trees. Branches slapped his face and chest. He raised a forearm to shield his eyes. The jutting limb of one birch nearly unseated his aunt—she teetered perilously, one arm flailing, before she regained her balance. Will shot a look over his shoulder and saw men on
horses closing in behind—better, faster riders than his aunt and himself. They were soldiers from The Crags—eight, maybe ten of them.

The nearest had already drawn his sword. He was close enough for Will to recognize. Brocuff bellowed after them: “Stop in the name of Lord Charmaigne!”

“They’re going to catch us!” Will shouted to his aunt. She veered right suddenly, and Will pulled hard on his reins to make his horse follow. They burst into a grassy clearing with the cliff looming overhead. Will was surprised to see a low stone cottage in an open meadow before them.

His aunt was already off her horse, running into the tiny building. Will leaped down to follow, just as the mounted soldiers thundered into the clearing. Brocuff rode in front of Will to cut him off from the cottage. The horse reared up as Brocuff pulled back on the reins, and Will darted under the animal’s neck. He felt fingers grasp at his cloak and swatted the hand away. Behind he heard the thump of boots on the grass.

Will ran into the open doorway. If there had been a door to slam behind him, he would have shut it.
What good does this do us?
he wondered, looking around the strange little place, with tiny rooms and a ceiling so low anyone bigger than him would have to stoop. There were footsteps close behind him.

“Here, Will!” his aunt cried. Will saw her head sticking out of a hole in the floor. A
trap door!
He ran to it as she
ducked out of sight. He didn’t wait to see if there was a ladder or steps. He simply jumped in and landed on his feet and fingertips, just a few feet below. From the scant light that fell through the opening, Will could see that he’d dropped into a tunnel. His aunt was in front of him, and she seized his hand and pulled him into the dark passage.

Voices from above shouted. “Where are they?”

“Check the other rooms!”

“Hey, there’s a hole in the floor!”

Will and his aunt made slow progress in the pitch-black tunnel—slow because it was too dark to see, and because they tried to be stealthy. Will looked back at the opening. He saw one of the soldier’s heads come down through the trap door and stare his way. But he didn’t think the man could see him.
Can’t even see my own feet,
he thought.