The Mirror's Tale (Further Tales Adventures) (21 page)

On the terrace, maybe, talking to his wife,
Bert thought. He rushed up the stairs. He didn’t understand why his uncle was wandering around. Since he’d slipped him the potion, Uncle Hugh hardly made a move without asking for approval. Bert even had to tell him when to go to sleep.

Aunt Elaine was on the terrace alone, plucking dead flowers off a plant. She looked over with dread when she saw Bert running toward her. It was the same look she always gave him lately.

“Where’s Uncle Hugh?” Bert demanded when he was still many steps away.

Aunt Elaine tossed the shriveled blossoms into a bowl
and put her fists on her hips. “We have to talk, Nephew. What’s the matter with you lately? And what’s going on with you and your uncle? I don’t understand it. Once Hugh despised the sight of you. Now I see you whispering to him, and him nodding …”

“Just tell me where he is!” Bert shouted. He snatched up the plant and hurled it off the balcony. A second later he heard the satisfying smash of the ceramic pot in the courtyard below. He lowered his head and glared at his aunt. He wanted to tell her that he could have her put in chains if he wanted. But it wasn’t time to show everyone who was really in command.
Soon. But not yet.

Her face went pale as she stared at him. “I haven’t seen him,” she said, barely opening her mouth to speak. “Please, Bert. Talk to me. You’re not—”

“Why didn’t you just say that in the first place, you fool!” he said. He whirled and raced back into the keep.

Where could his uncle be? An answer finally occurred to him—and it made so much sense that he chuckled, knowing it must be true.
Of course. He’s back in the secret place. Looking for me, while I look for him.
He ran to his room and into the Tunnel of Stars. There was a dim light at the bottom of the stairs.
Yes, Uncle Hugh must be there.

When he reached the chamber, he saw his uncle sitting in front of the mirror. Bert felt a flash of red-hot anger. “Get away from my throne,” he said. “I have something important for you to do.”

“And what is that?” his uncle said without turning.
His fingertips scratched the arms of the chair.

Bert saw movement in the shadows of the inner chamber. The beasts had returned. One by one they emerged from the dark opening—the secret path that ended in a hidden crevice, somewhere on the ledge to the north of The Crags. They loped toward Uncle Hugh except for one that limped on an injured leg. The creatures Were bigger and more horrific than ever, as if they were still sprouting more terrible spikes and knobs of bone all over their bodies. Their lips curled back and quivered as they glared sideways at Bert, and they left a trail of foaming slobber wherever they walked.

Bert pointed at the beasts. “Your dogs are back, but they failed. Now my brother is coming here.”

“I know,” said Uncle Hugh. He still hadn’t turned.

“What do you mean, you
know?
” Bert screamed. He staggered back, suddenly aware that something was horribly wrong. How could his uncle know what happened … unless …

“The mirror told me,” Uncle Hugh said. He stood and turned to face Bert at last. His mouth was twisted into an ugly smile. The vacant expression was gone from his eyes, replaced by a crafty, narrow glare.

“Told
you?
” Bert put his fingers to his throat. They were shaking. “But the mirror only talks to me….”

“Not anymore,” Uncle Hugh said. “Now it’s mine.”

Bert made a choking sound. He looked past his uncle, at the mirror. “Mirror!” he shouted. His eyes felt warm.
“Talk to me! Tell him you’re mine! I found you, not him!” He rushed at it. He wanted to seize it by the frame and run. But his uncle snatched Bert’s wrist and jerked him back. Bert wailed and his legs went limp, but Uncle Hugh held him up by the arm. Pain flared in the brutal grip, and only the tips of Bert’s shoes scraped the ground.

“You’re a stupid, spoiled, little toad, you know that?” Lord Charmaigne said, sneering down at him. “That’s why the mirror cast you aside for me. Did you think that potion you slipped me would last forever? Of course not. It wore off, and the mirror didn’t bother to tell you it was happening. Do you know why? Because I’m more worthy than a child like you. I can use its power better. And the mirror knows it!”

Bert howled like an animal in a trap. Uncle Hugh just laughed at him and dragged him past the snarling beasts into the inner chamber, to a chain that was attached to the wall. Bert thrashed and kicked, but Uncle Hugh was too strong. He seized one of Bert’s ankles and clamped a shackle around it.

“There!” he said, stepping away from Bert’s flailing arms and legs. He scratched his chin and furrowed his brow. “Should I keep you alive? Maybe, maybe not. I might need you to lure your father…. I’ll decide soon enough. See how you do without food or drink for a few days!”

Bert looked around for anything to throw, anything to
use to hurt his uncle. There was nothing but bare stone. “I hate you!” he screamed, and the walls of the chamber answered a dozen times.

Hugh Charmaigne laughed. “And I’ve always hated you. But I suppose I should thank you, really. For the gift of the mirror. The gift that will help me rule this land.
Every
land!” He grinned as Bert wailed and pounded the ground with his hands and feet.

“Don’t be so upset, boy. You’ll have company soon enough. 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.”

CHAPTER 35

W
ill rode with his arms locked around the hunter’s waist. He nearly bounced off a dozen times until Gunther, finally confident that they’d left the beast far behind, agreed to slow his horse. And the ride was easier once they climbed onto the road.

Will looked behind them. Half of him was afraid to see more of those monsters in pursuit. The other half hoped to see Andreas and the others charging his way. But the road was empty.

A few minutes later he saw The Crags. It was vaguely familiar, like a half-remembered dream. And now, looking at its foreboding walls in the gloomy shadow of the mountain, he could see why he’d been afraid years before.

“I can’t breathe,” Gunther croaked.

“Sorry,” Will said. At the first sight of the dark castle, he’d tightened his grip around the hunter’s waist without realizing it. He loosened his hold.

“Much appreciated,” Gunther said after a deep breath. “Well, I’m glad we made it. But that’s it for me—I’ll never hunt in that valley again, even if Lord Charmaigne flogs me”

They trotted to the gate where a pair of surly guards blocked their path. Will leaned out from behind Gunther, so the two could see him.

“That’s the baron’s boy,” one said to the othen. “Master Bert, what were you doing out there?”

Will dismounted, “I’m not Bert, I’m his brother, Will. Listen, we were attacked on the Cliff Road. There were men with me who may be hurt….”

A deep voice called down from the wall above the gate, “You there! Is that the baron’s other son?”

The guards looked up, “Yes, it is, Brocuff,” one called.

“Good,” Brocuff said. He leaned out with a keen stare fixed on Will. “Keep him right there. Lord Charmaigne said he’d be coming.”

Will looked up and saw the big, deep-voiced man vanish from sight. He heard boots on stairs on the other side of the wall. This was strange.
How could Uncle Hugh be expecting me?
Sure, he’d been invited to come, but no courier was sent ahead to announce their arrival. There was no way to know he was coming, unless … “Did any of our party get here before me? Has the knight, Andreas, been here?”

“Haven’t seen nobody but you,” said one of the guards. The two of them came toward Will and stood on either side.

“Then how did Uncle—I mean, Lord Charmaigne—know I was coming?” Will was getting an unsettled feeling. The hair on his arms tingled.

Brocuff stepped through the gate. Will had the urge to turn and run. Something was very wrong. But before he could make up his mind, a powerful hand clamped onto his shoulder.

“Come with me,” Brocuff rumbled, pulling Will through the gate and into the courtyard.

Will tried to push the hand away. “What are you doing? You don’t need to drag me!”

“I was told to bring you directly to Lord Charmaigne,” Brocuff said, squeezing even tighter.

“You can’t drag me! I’m the baron’s son! Let go of me!” Will said, his voice rising. He pried at the fingers, but couldn’t even bend the little one back. The door to the keep was ahead, a black rectangle that looked like an open grave, standing on end. Will was sure that if he went into that dark space, he’d never come out. He punched at the hand that held him, and twisted his body, trying to break free. Brocuff pushed Will in front of him, grabbing both shoulders from behind. The black space came closer. “Stop!” Will cried.

Then a familiar figure stepped through the doorway and into the light.

“Let him go now, Brocuff,” said Aunt Elaine.

Will stared at her. His heart was pounding, his breath wheezing. He couldn’t read her expression. She smiled serenely at the man who still had him in an iron grip.

Brocuff’s thick jaw slid from side to side. “I was told to
bring the boy straight to Lord Charmaigne … and make sure he didn’t …”

“Yes, and now my husband wishes me to take him,” she said. “Surely you won’t defy his orders? You know how he feels about disobedience.” There was an edge to her voice, a hint of thorns among the flowers. Brocuff cleared his throat. The fingers loosened a bit on Will’s shoulders.

Aunt Elaine smiled at Will. “Nephew, you’ll come with me to see your uncle, won’t you?” She held out her hand.

Will caught something in her expression. A subtle widening of the eyes, a lift of the brow, a flare of her nostrils. “Of course, Aunt Elaine,” he said. Brocuff’s grip weakened, and Will shrugged out of it and took her hand.

“Thank you, Brocuff,” Aunt Elaine said. She pulled Will inside and pushed the heavy wooden door closed behind them. There was a thick iron bolt on the other side, and she slid it into place and looked furtively around the great hall that they’d entered. The pleasant smile was gone, and her mouth was closed in a pale, grim line. Before Will could ask what was happening, she tapped a finger against her lips and led him into a narrow corridor.

“Not a word now,” she whispered. “No one must see or hear us. I have to get you out of here.”

“But where’s my brother?” Will hissed back.

“Hush!” she said. “Just do exactly as I say!”

They slipped down the dank passage and out into a shadowy corner of the courtyard, close to where the wall of The Crags met the steep mountain. The moment they stepped outside they heard angry shouts. Will couldn’t make out the words, but he knew his disappearance must have been the root of the commotion. He heard the thump of boots, getting louder. Aunt Elaine pressed her back to the wall and put her hand across his chest to push him back as well Will saw a long shadow draw near, and then move away.

He heard his aunt exhale gratefully. “Now,” she said, and she pulled him behind her and ran. Will didn’t know where they could possibly be going. It looked like they were heading for a sheer, impenetrable face of rock. But then he saw the narrow stairs that had been hacked out of the ledge, three feet wide at the most, leading to the top of the wall.

“Keep low,” Aunt Elaine said, pushing him ahead of her. Will climbed the steps on all fours. Near the top he poked his head out and peered into the courtyard. He recognized his uncle, sending men off in every direction as others ran up and reported to him. Uncle Hugh abruptly smacked himself on his head with the heel of his hand. He turned and raced into the keep as if there was a fire inside that needed putting out.
Strange,
Will thought.
What did he just remember?

Will and his aunt reached the top of the wall. “Over
there,” she said, pointing to the nearest watchtower. A grizzled watchman, the oldest fellow Will had seen so far at The Crags, was inside. He gave Will a suspicious glance, but nodded to Aunt Elaine. Will saw beads of sweat on the man’s brow.

“Hurry,” the watchman said, waving them inside the tower. There was a coiled rope in his hand. “I don’t think you have long.”