The Mirror's Tale (Further Tales Adventures) (25 page)

Will scraped his bowl clean. He’d never been fond of mushrooms—hated the way they squished between his teeth—but he was so famished that his stomach persuaded his tongue. “I hope we can help Bert,” he said. “And I hope Aunt Elaine will be all right.”

“If it is the will of the earth, they will survive,” Kholl said.

Will dropped his spoon into the bowl. “How much longer will it be, do you think? I can’t tell how much time is passing without seeing the sun.”

Kholl dug into his thick beard to scratch his chin. “If your friend Par Lee is right, and their horses are swift, it will be soon.”

Will’s spirits lifted at the thought of seeing Parley again. The old rascal was alive after all He was still thinking about the courier when a loud ringing echoed through the tunnels. There was a series of clangs: two,
then five, then four, then two. Will’s head craned up. “That’s not the same bell, is it?” he said.

“You have good ears, young Will. That is another entrance. Harth has returned. And your Par Lee with him, I presume. Come—we must all go, and stay close together.”

The six Dwergh and Will moved swiftly through the tunnels. The passage turned gradually up until they met a wall of rock with a round, iron door in the middle. Another one of those flower-shaped bells was embedded in the center of the door. The Dwergh hefted their axes and stood at the ready. One of the Dwergh pulled on a lever, and the door swung open. Three lamp-lit figures stood in a cave on the other side—one short and wide, and two much taller.

Will shouted.
“Andreas!”
He dashed through the opening and threw himself at the knight. Andreas dropped his sword, so he wouldn’t injure the boy. He caught Will and staggered back, laughing in disbelief. “Will! My boy! You’re alive!”

Parley crossed his arms, tapped a foot on the ground, and cleared his throat loudly. “What? No greeting for your old friend, Parley?”

Will pried himself from Andreas and embraced the courier. “Oh, Parley, I expected to see you. But I’m just as happy, believe me!”

Parley sniffed. His bottom lip trembled and tears gushed forth, even from his eyeless socket. “We were
sure we’d lost you,” he wailed. “I nearly died myself when I heard” He leaned over Will’s shoulder and blew his nose ferociously on his own sleeve.

Kholl smiled, but when he spoke to the Dwergh that just arrived, his expression turned grave.

“Well, Harth?” Kholl said. Everyone fell still and waited for the answer.

“The baron and his men ride to The Crags as we hoped,” Harth said. “This man is Andreas, a knight of their kingdom. He insisted on coming here.”

“To keep an eye on us, I suppose,” said Kholl.

“The baron trusts you in this matter, if that’s what you’re getting at,” Andreas said. “But I must inform you that he considers this a temporary truce. He will follow the plan as you suggested. Then, whether we fail or succeed, you must return to your mountains immediately, or face the consequences.”

“Is that so,” said Kholl. His eyes flickered darkly as he stared at Andreas.

Parley raised his hands and patted the air. “Now, those were the baron’s words, not this good fellow’s. The important thing is, we have a plan….”

Kholl snorted. “So why did you insist on coming, Knight? We didn’t ask for another man.”

“I came to help save the baron’s other son, because I failed to protect this one.” Andreas laid a hand on Will’s shoulder. “Will, your father wanted to be here himself. But Harth talked him out of it.”

“It would have spoiled the plan,” said Harth. “The mirror will certainly have its eye on the baron. In fact, we are counting on it.”

Will tugged at the knight’s sleeve. “Is my father in danger, Andreas?”

“From an enemy that sees every move you make from afar? Of course he is. We all are, Will. We can only hope that your father follows the plan we made—that, in his zeal, he doesn’t try to do too much.” Andreas noticed the amulet around Will’s neck. He reached and held it between his thumb and forefinger. “Harth, is this the charm you told me about?”

“It is,” said Harth.

Andreas frowned. “Well. As for us, Will, we can only hope that this trinket you wear is as powerful as our new friends say.”

“It had better be. Now enough talk,” said Harth. He said something in the Dwerghish tongue to the rest who stood watching and waiting. Their brows came down fiercely, and their fists tightened around the handles of their weapons. “It is time to act,” Harth said. “Let us go!”

They left through the same cave, which opened to a dense wood. It was dark outside—the middle of the night, Parley informed Will. Harth took the lead, and they moved swiftly through the trees. A bright moon, more than half full, was overhead, and they could make
their way without lanterns or torches. Will counted ten in the party now—eleven, including Mokh.

“Andreas, what is the plan?” Will asked. “What is my father doing?”

“Leading a small force to The Crags,” Andreas said.

“But if the mirror knows …” Will’s voice trailed off.

“We
want
the mirror to know,” Andreas said. “Remember the advice of the general of the east, Will: keep your enemy confused and off balance. We know a direct assault on The Crags with only a hundred men would be suicide. But your father’s attack will be a feint. Before sunrise he will charge at the main gate, but break off at the last moment. While he draws the attention of the mirror—and the soldiers of The Crags, for that matter—we will run to the ledge at the north end of the wall. It won’t be easy to get there unseen. We have to cross open ground between The Crags and the swamp. But in a way we’re lucky. There used to be a village at the foot of the ledge, but your uncle burned it down not long ago. So at least no villagers will raise the alarm.”

“But why are we going to that ledge at all?” said Will.

Andreas looked around to see how close Harth and Kholl were, and lowered his voice. “Harth had an interesting piece of information for us. Centuries ago, before Snow White ever lived there, The Crags and its lands were given to our kingdom as a peace offering from the
Dwergh. The Crags was
built
by the Dwergh, you see. But apparently the Dwergh neglected to mention that there was a hidden chamber beneath the keep—and a secret way into that chamber from the outside. You can imagine that your father had mixed feelings about this news. He was glad to hear there might be a way to penetrate The Crags and save Bert. But he wasn’t pleased that our so-called enemy knew about this vulnerable spot all along—and might have used it in an attack against our people.

“But nevertheless that’s precisely what we mean to do. Now, each of these Dwergh seems to have a particular area of knowledge. One of them, named Kortz, knows quite a bit about Dwergh castles. Look behind us, Will. Do you see the tallest Dwergh with one silver band and one gold around his wrist? That’s him. Kortz is fairly certain that he can find the hidden entrance on the northern ledges.”

“Fairly
certain,” Parley said with a sigh. “That’s the trouble with this plan. We’re
fairly
certain the baron will give us the diversion we need. We’re
fairly
certain we can get to the ledge without being slaughtered. We’re
fairly
certain what’s-his-name there can find the hidden entrance. And were
fairly
certain that smashing the mirror will be enough to kill this monstrosity. That’s too many
fairly’s
for my taste.”

Harth had been a few strides ahead, but he slowed to
allow the three of them to catch up. He slapped Parley on the back. “Never fear, Par Lee. If it is the will of the earth, we will find the mirror and destroy it.”

Parley’s mouth knotted up. “You Dwergh have good ears.”

CHAPTER 43

B
ert’s muscles quivered as he pushed himself into a seated position and watched his uncle. There was fire under the cauldron, and smoke rose and pooled between the hanging cones of rock Uncle Hugh consulted the book of spells and potions, and murmured an incantation. He pried open a long-sealed bottle and poured its liquid into the cauldron. Something gurgled and popped, and a thick puff of green smoke billowed high.

His uncle wiped his hands on his shirt and walked to the mirror. He glanced at Bert as he went by. Bert shivered at the cold look in his uncles eye, the wild, matted hair and the dry white spittle in the corners of his mouth.
Is that how I looked? As mad as that?

“Mirror,” Uncle Hugh said. “Where is my brother now?”

The familiar ring and shimmer came again.
The baron charges with his men at a reckless speed in the dark. He rides ahead, exhorting them. They have had little rest, just before dawn, they will arrive.

Uncle Hugh crunched his knuckles and smiled. “Very good. And are they lightly armored?”

Light armor, or none at all to speed their journey.

Uncle Hugh mumbled happily to himself and peered into the cauldron. He unsheathed the knife at his hip and dipped the blade into whatever simmered inside. A thick, milky liquid dripped off like warm honey. He blew on the blade and carried it to where Bert sat. Crouching low, he waved the knife in front of Bert’s face. “Do you know what I’ve brewed here, Nephew?”

Bert stared at the knife. The thin coat of liquid turned clear as it dried. There was a lump in his throat, and he had to swallow before he could answer. “M-more … more of the obedience potion?”

“No, foolish boy. There’s time for that later.” Uncle Hugh brought the tip of the blade near Bert’s nose, almost touching it. “This is
poison.
And what a poison! Why, even the tiniest scratch will bring a slow, painful death. I’ve brewed a mighty batch, Nephew. A bucketful! And do you know who it’s for?”

Bert shook his head and closed his eyes.
Of course I know.

Uncle Hugh slid the knife into its sheath, careful not to prick himself on the blade. “This is for the man who stole my barony, that’s who. The trap is set, Nephew. When the baron nears The Crags, he’ll see the gate left open by incompetent soldiers. He’ll watch a small group of men run like cowards. That’s all the bait your father needs. He’ll rush through like the great hero he imagines himself to be, taking the lead as always! And when he charges into the courtyard with his hundred men,
three
hundred archers
will surround him—and every arrow will be tipped with my poison. Three hundred arrows, all aimed at one man! Do you think they’ll miss?” Uncle Hugh let loose a giddy, high-pitched laugh. His bulging eyes looked like they might pop out of his face.

Aunt Elaine called out from the box in the rear of the chamber, frail and terrified. “Hugh, please. You aren’t yourself. It’s that voice I heard—it’s making you do these things. You have to fight it!”

Uncle Hugh shook with laughter. “Listen, Nephew—did you hear a mouse? Did you hear its little squeak?”

“Listen to her, Uncle Hugh,” Bert said. His voice was just a whisper. He couldn’t breathe deep enough to make it louder. “There’s something wicked inside the mirror. It makes you think it’s your friend, but it’s not. It lies. It finds your weakness and uses it against you. And when you die, you’re trapped inside the mirror. I saw them. I saw the ghosts.”

Uncle Hugh’s smile melted. “You’re the liar. You’d say any foolish thing to get the mirror back. But it’s
mine.
It wants to be mine. Because it knows how powerful I can become.”

Bert shook his head. “No, Uncle Hugh. It will make you do terrible things. The mirror twists everything around. It made me think the people I love were my enemies. I almost killed my brother—and now it wants you to do the same to
your
brother. But you can’t!”

Uncle Hugh cast a smoldering glare upon Bert. “Do
you know what it was like when the king gave the barony to my
younger
brother? Can you understand the shame, knowing that everyone was talking about me, and laughing? And then Walter sent me here, to let me rot in this pile of rocks, while the stench of the enemy washes down upon me day and night!
Do you know what that was like?”
His hand strayed to the hilt of the poisoned knife, and for a moment Bert thought he would draw it. But his uncle just growled and turned away With trembling hands he ladled the poison from the cauldron into a bucket. “No time to talk now!” Uncle Hugh said. “There are arrows to treat and a baron to greet!” He carried the bucket up the Tunnel of Stars, leaving behind the dying echoes of his eerie laugh.

Bert covered his face with his hands and rolled onto his side.
Oh Father,
he thought.
This is all my fault. I am so sorry, so sorry, so sorry.

And then he heard the voice of the mirror again inside his skull.

It said,
Bertram. Turn your eyes to me.

Bert shivered so hard that his knees rattled together. When he turned he knew he’d see the slithering face of worms again. It wanted to feed one more time. Maybe for the last time.

CHAPTER 44