Beyond the Blue Moon (Forest Kingdom Novels) (49 page)

“No,” said Lament. “As the Walking Man, I walk in straight lines to go where I must and do what I must, and because this is God’s will made manifest, nothing can stand in my way or delay my journey. Including, it would appear, the avoidance spell of a certain Magus. I see no reason why I shouldn’t be able to walk right up to that trapdoor, unaffected by anything the wards can throw at me.”

“You knew that all along,” Fisher said accusingly. “So why did you let us go in first and trigger the defenses?”

“Because I wanted to see what they would do,” said Lament calmly. “I wanted to know what the Magus was capable of.”

“Don’t hit him, Isobel,” Hawk said quickly. “We need him.”

Fisher growled something under her breath and glared at Lament. He smiled back, entirely undisturbed.

“It seems to me,” he said mildly, “that if we were all to walk into the room together, with all of you sticking very close to me, your proximity to my holy nature should be enough to protect you from the wards.”

“And if it doesn’t?” asked the Seneschal, just a little testily, still rubbing at his chest.

“Then I’ll drag you back out, and you get to say I told you so,” said Lament. “And I will continue this quest alone.” He paused to look at the others in turn. “I would prefer company.”

“Yeah,” said Fisher. “Just like the miner who takes a canary in a cage in with him to check for bad air.”

“Exactly,” said Lament. “I couldn’t have put it better myself.”

“Isobel …” Hawk warned.

*      *      *  

They walked into the room together, Hawk and Fisher and the Seneschal pressing as close to Lament as they could get without actually climbing into his pockets. This time there was only the briefest feeling of an opposing pressure, which burst like a soap bubble against the Walking Man’s certainty. They crossed the empty chamber unopposed, and finally knelt beside the trapdoor in the floor, studying it carefully from different angles and what they hoped was a safe distance. Somewhere far away, something screamed once with rage.

“What the hell was that?” asked Fisher, glaring about her.

“The Magus, perhaps,” said Lament, not looking at her, all his attention focused on the trapdoor. “Having his wards broken so abruptly was probably rather unpleasant for him. Or possibly the scream could have come from somewhere inside the Inverted Cathedral. Which means that whatever’s in there knows we’re coming, and that we won’t be easily stopped.”

“I wish I had your confidence,” said Hawk. “It must be wonderful to always be so sure of things.”

“Oh, it is,” agreed Lament. “You have no idea. Faith means never having to say you’re uncertain.”

He leaned out over the trapdoor, studying it closely, but still careful not to touch it. Hawk watched him do it, momentarily distracted by a new thought. Harald’s killer had walked right through the Magus’ strongest wards to reach him. But Lament hadn’t been in the Castle then. As far as anybody knew. Hawk frowned. The Lady of the Lake had said he already knew who killed Harald but didn’t want to admit it. Hawk smiled sourly. If so, it was news to him. Anyway, that would all have to wait until they’d finished their business inside the Inverted Cathedral and returned. Assuming any of them did return. He made himself concentrate on the trapdoor, six square feet of unpolished wood held shut by a simple steel bolt. It looked straightforward enough. If anything, too straightforward. In fact, everything about it set off Hawk’s worst instincts.

“I have a really bad feeling about that trapdoor,” said Fisher, close beside him.

“You are not alone,” said the Seneschal. “There’s magic in that trapdoor, I can sense it. Strong magic, soaked into the wood itself. Entirely separate from the avoidance spell.”

“A booby trap,” said Lament, nodding. “Presumably set to be activated by whoever is foolish enough to open the trapdoor. Let’s see what happens when I push back the bolt from a safe distance.”

He stood up and stepped well back, and everyone hurried to get behind him. Lament slowly pushed back the bolt with the steel tip of his long staff. Nothing happened until the bolt was all the way back, then there was a loud bang, a flash of something moving too quickly to be seen, and then another loud bang as the trapdoor, ripped free from its hinges, slammed against the ceiling overhead with vicious force. The ceiling’s plaster cracked jaggedly from the impact, and flakes fell slowly to the floor. The trapdoor stayed where it was. The four members of the investigating party craned their necks to get a good look at it.

“If any of us had been leaning over the trapdoor when we opened it,” Hawk said slowly, “part or all of us would have ended up as the meat in a very nasty sandwich.”

“Ouch,” said Fisher. “The Magus really did want to stop people getting in.” She looked at the Seneschal. “Can you sense any more booby traps?”

“No,” said the Seneschal, frowning as he peered dubiously at the newly revealed gap in the floor. “But this opening is positively crawling with magic. There’s so much power radiating from it, I can feel it in my bones. And I mean old magic, far beyond anything I’d expect the Magus to be capable of. I’d say we’ve found our entrance to the Inverted Cathedral. And it gives me the creeps something fierce.”

They all crowded around the open space, working up the nerve to peer in while trying very hard not to think about the trapdoor overhead, still stuck to the ceiling. When they did finally look, all they could see was six square feet of drifting clouds. And not nice, fluffy, white cotton clouds, either; these clouds were dark and threatening, boiling and churning like a fast-building thunderstorm. There was a low rumbling deep within the clouds, like something growling. Lament dipped the steel end of his staff into the clouds, and nothing happened. He slowly thrust the staff further and further in, until he was kneeling beside the square, with his arm fully extended and his hand nearly touching the clouds. He stirred the staff around for a while, to no obvious effect, and then stood up again, withdrawing his staff. It seemed unaffected, though beaded here and there with drops of water.

“Well,” he said easily, “the next step requires a volunteer.”

“Why do I just know it’s going to be me?” asked Hawk.

“Because we need Lament for his power, the Seneschal for his magic, and I’ve got more sense,” said Fisher. “Guess who that leaves?”

“If anyone thinks I am just going to jump blindly into those clouds …”

“No, of course we don’t think that,” said Lament. “Far too many things could go wrong, and if you just disappeared, we’d have no way of knowing what. Since the Cathedral is Inverted, it could drop away into the earth for several hundred feet. Or more. I have a coil of rope with me. We’ll tie one end round your ankles, and then lower you headfirst into the clouds. All you have to do is yell back once you’ve ascertained what’s beyond them.”

Hawk shook his head slowly. “I never did like heights.”

“Think of them as depths,” suggested Fisher.

“You’re not helping, Isobel.”

“You’ll be perfectly safe with all of us on the other end of the rope,” said Lament with the easy assurance of someone who wasn’t going. “If you see anything at all worrying, just yell out and we’ll pull you back up.”

“If it’s so safe, why aren’t you doing it?” snapped Hawk.

“Because you’re the hero. Sit down, and I’ll tie your ankles together.”

Hawk growled something that everyone pretended not to understand, then sat reluctantly down beside the open space. Lament’s knots turned out to be excruciatingly tight but comfortingly professional. Hawk waited until he was sure everyone had a good grip on the rope, then swung his feet out over the drop. He knew there was an awful lot of nothing beneath his feet. He just knew it. Back in Haven there’d been a group of extreme sportsmen who climbed to the top of tall buildings, tied themselves to something secure, and then jumped off, just for the thrill of it. Hawk had always considered them to be complete and utter lunatics.

He took a deep breath and pushed himself off the edge and into the clouds. His head and feet quickly changed ends, and soon he was diving through the clouds, his hands held uselessly out before him. The violent air buffeted him back and forth as he fell through the clouds, which were bracingly cold and wet, and billowed all around him until he had no sense of direction apart from the falling feeling in the pit of his stomach. And then suddenly he was through and out the other side. Bright light hit him like a thunderclap. He cried out in shock as he found himself plummeting headfirst into a huge structure that seemed to fall away forever. He had brief glimpses of huge marble walls plunging by on either side of him, marked here and there with splashes of color, all details blurred by the speed at which he was falling. Vertigo sucked the breath out of his lungs as he fell on and on into something too large for him to comprehend.

And then he was jerked to an abrupt halt as the rope at his ankles snapped taut. His neck creaked painfully. His eye bulged from its socket. He flailed about with his arms, but there was nothing in reach. He turned slowly back and forth, fighting for breath. There were details all around him, but he couldn’t make sense of any of them upside down. He could see colors, mostly red, and the air was foul beyond description. And the walls, the great walls, gleaming white marble falling away forever, like a glimpse of heaven. He tried to shout up to his companions, but it was all he could do just to get his breath. He couldn’t think straight with the blood pounding in his upside down head. There was something about the walls … There was a yank on the rope, sending him spinning back and forth again, and then he was pulled back up, foot by foot. The whole length of the rope couldn’t have been more than forty feet, but the trip up seemed endless.

They pulled him back up through the clouds, and hauled him out of the floor of the chamber. Hawk scrambled away from the open space, and Fisher held him while he waited for his head to stop spinning and his stomach to settle. Everyone was very patient, which was just as well, as Hawk was in no mood for nonsense. He’d never liked heights. Finally he pulled vaguely at his clothes, tugging them back into place again, and glared at Lament.

“Well, there’s definitely a building down there. And a bloody big one, too. Marble walls. Some kind of decorations. Place stinks, though. Probably because it’s been deserted for so long.”

“No sign of any occupants?” asked Lament.

“Look, I was upside down and fighting not to puke,” said Hawk. “There could have been an orgy going on down there and I wouldn’t have noticed. Still, if there was anyone there, I think they would have made some sort of comment at me bursting up out of their floor and hurtling toward their ceiling, and I didn’t hear a damn thing. I’m assuming there was a ceiling somewhere, but I never even got close to it. This Cathedral has got to be one hell of a size. Big as a mountain. Bigger.”

“Perhaps it’s been growing, deep in the earth,” said Lament. He didn’t sound like he was joking.

“So, what do we do now?” asked Fisher. “Lower everyone through on a rope? Then who gets to stay behind?”

“I don’t think that will be necessary,” said the Seneschal, scowling thoughtfully. “If you remember, I encountered something like this before, on my journey to rediscover the lost South Wing of Forest Castle. I found a doorway leading into a Tower that was upside down to its surrounding structure. When I passed through, I became upside down, too—or rather, the right way up as far as the Tower was concerned. The magic here feels very similar to what I encountered then.”

“Then why didn’t I turn right way up?” Hawk asked.

“Because you were still physically connected to this room by the rope.”

“Hold everything,” said Fisher, just a little ominously. “Are you seriously suggesting we all just jump into the clouds feet first, and trust that everything will turn out all right?”

“Well, basically, yes,” admitted the Seneschal.

“You first,” said Fisher. “And we’ll all listen for a scream.”

“I’ll go first,” said Lament. “You just have to have faith.”

And as easily as that he stepped off the edge of the square, and dropped into the roiling clouds. Everyone listened intently, but there was no scream. A few moments later, Lament’s voice came back to them from surprisingly close at hand.

“Come on in. The Cathedral’s very interesting.”

The Seneschal jumped in immediately, and disappeared into the clouds. Fisher took Hawk’s hand in a firm grip, and they jumped in together.

They burst through the cloud cover, somersaulted disconcertingly fast in midair, and the next thing they knew they were standing on a bare marble floor at the foot of an immensely tall gallery. There was no trace in the floor of the gap they’d just jumped through. That worried Hawk and Fisher for a moment, but they were quickly distracted by the sheer scale of the Cathedral around them. They’d appeared in the central gallery, a huge open space bounded by sheer white marble walls that shot up for hundreds of feet before finally disappearing into a vague blue beyond the human eye’s reach. The gallery would have seemed serene, even spiritual, if it hadn’t been for the thick rivulets of dark red blood that ran endlessly down the marble walls. The blood collected in great pools on the gallery floor, creeping slowly around the rows of dark oaken pews.

The whole place stank like a slaughterhouse.

“Where the hell is all that blood coming from?” Fisher asked quietly.

“Just as much to the point,” said Hawk, just as quietly, “who or what is it coming from?”

The whole floor was awash with blood, but never more than an inch or so deep, despite the never-ending crimson flow down the walls. Fisher stepped gingerly through it to inspect the nearest pew. The solid wood was clean, but the cushions and embroidered knee pads were soaked with blood. A single prayer book sat on a wooden seat, its leather cover dappled with dried blood. Fisher picked it up and opened it at random. The text was handwritten in a clear copperplate and consisted of the phrase
We all burn
repeated over and over again. Fisher flicked through the pages, but everywhere it was the same.
We all burn
.