‘Featherman! Taupo! Come with us!’ hissed Jyp to the two sailors behind us, a big white-haired thug and a grizzled little ferret. ‘No pistols, cold steel only. The rest follow when we pass the word it’s safe. Mall, if we’re jumped, you take command. C’mon, Steve!’
Half crouching, the four of us sped and stumbled across the uneven flags, ducking down behind every convenient bush till we reached the inner gate and hunched down behind the gatepost. We were just peering through the gap between post and sagging gate when a sudden flicker made us whirl around. A pale light spattered the mounting cloudheads above, and a soft crackle echoed between the valley walls. We looked at each other uneasily, then turned back to the gate. Between it and the looming façade of the mansion – palace, almost – lay what must once have been an elegant courtyard, flagged with decorative stones and planted here and there with shady trees in stone tubs. Now they had burst their tubs and grown tall, fastening their roots through the flags with savage vigour. Some had fallen, blown over in a hurricane perhaps, and torn up great stretches of paving in their agonies. Piles of rubble and dirt littered the rest of the court, and the empty windows and gaping door of the great house grinned mockingly down over the wreckage. As far as we could see it was completely empty. But the wide double stairs leading up to it were noticeably clear of rubbish in the middle, as if people had used them lately – a lot of people. We risked putting our heads around the gate, then stepped out swiftly, with ready swords. Except for that one stick-figure the courtyard was empty; there was no sign of any watchers at window or rooftop. Jyp and I turned to wave the others forward – and were hurled off our feet.
Flat on my back, half-winded, I saw Jyp flung back against the gatepost; little Taupo fell on top of him, his neck lolling brokenly. The Featherman was on top of me and kicking furiously at my stomach. I struggled to get out from under, but the kicking rose to a paroxysm and he fell aside, gurgling. I heaved myself up – and faced the dark fingers an instant before they clamped home on my throat. That gave me a split second to do two things – tuck in my chin and thrust up my sword, hard. I felt it sink home with a horrible meaty impact – but the spindly ironhard hands about my neck didn’t so much as twitch, only closed home their appalling grip. I stabbed again, again, twisting the blade as it came out – and then a mighty flash of lightning ripped the air, and showed me my attacker’s face. The exploding thunderclap drowned my scream. It wasn’t monstrous, not in itself, that face. I’d seen its twin in half the little villages, high-boned, leather-hard, dusty-skinned. But not sagging, staring, a glaze-eyed skull under stretched skin. My jawbone creaked as that chill grip tightened, my throat convulsed. It was killing me, this thing, and it wasn’t even looking at me –
Then came a sudden swish like the wind, and the face flew up into the darkness. The grip convulsed, but held till blades thudded into the thin stick-insect arms. No blood spurted, but they relaxed, sagged. In a flare of lightning the headless body rolled aside. Mall jabbed it with her sword, stained tarry black. Flat raindrops pattered on the flagstones.
‘Jyp,’ I croaked as he helped me up, ‘Why’re the zombies in the movies always slow?’
He grinned, fingering a scraped brow. ‘Ever see Frankenstein? Karloff got it about right. Anyhow, they call’em corps-cadavres here; zombi’s what’s got into them.’
‘Will you stand blethering while the heavens fall?’ demanded Mall, and a mighty thunderclap burst the air to punctuate her. ‘Surely we’ve woken the watchdog! Into the castle, and quick!’
Lightnings crossed above the rooftree, thunder battered at us and the rain came sleeting around us as we bolted up the steps. But there was no way we’d rush blindly between those yawning double doors. Those of us with pistols drew and cocked them; I hoped the rain hadn’t got into the priming. Then the lightning flashed again, and in its lurid glare we saw a great hall before us, high-roofed, nobly proportioned, with a dais at one end on which stood the dilapidated remains of high seats, richly carved and canopied – thrones, almost, crumbling and cobweb-shrouded now. It had been a palace, once, this place, for some wealthy noble; but it was horribly empty now. Cautiously we crowded into the doorway.
‘Lanterns!’ order Jyp, whispering despite the storm. ‘Light ’em up, and quick!’
But either the rain had got into them, or the wind was blowing out the tinder, or there was some other cause, because there was a tremendous bother over lighting them. Mall pushed through impatiently, and managed to coax one into feeble life. Then she held it up; and we all shrank together in the middle of the floor. For by its swinging light shadows moved across those wide white walls – but there was nothing to throw them.
They were sharp, clear shadows, the shapes of men and women circling in pairs to a stately step, a minuet, maybe, or a sarabande. You could see every detail of their dress, the women’s immense hoopskirts and high-piled wigs billowing out as they danced, their fans fluttering as they curtsied to the men, whose flared sleeves and ribboned queues stuck out stiffly as they bowed in return. There was no sound of their music, nothing but the sudden rush and splashing of rain. Around us they circled, their shadows swelling and blurring as they neared a light which was not ours, diminishing as the dance swept them away again. It was a dance such as this hall must once have known; but for all that it was peculiarly terrible to see. Then I heard gasps; but I’d already seen it, the darker, solitary silhouette that passed among the dancers like a cloud, dressed like the men but holding a slender cane at an elegant angle. It bowed to them as it passed, elegant as a major-domo or dancing master; and they bowed back, but didn’t rise. The men, faltered, folded, collapsed; the women swayed in their courtesies and sank down. The dance swept round them oblivious; but it was a dance of death, for couple after couple dropped as they turned, hands clutching desperately at each other, at the air, futile. They sank and were gone. But behind the darker shadow another pair would fall in line, heads bent, hands fallen limp, dancing no more.
Only Mall had the nerve to speak. The worst in these things are but shadows!’ she laughed. ‘They’ve no power to harm us! Come!’ She plunged on into the hall, broadsword at the ready, towards the high arch at the rear; its great tapestry curtain had gone grey with the dust that pooled in its sagging folds. As her swordpoint touched it a good half tore and dropped with a thump in a cloud of dust and fat insect larvae. Through the archway we plunged, into a separate hall made less deep by the curving stairways at either end. To the left one of the great pictures, at least twelve feet tall, that hung above the stair had come away. Its gilded frame stood shattered across the ruined middle steps, and spiders were using it for their own delicate works. On the other side the frame still hung, but what it held had been eaten away, leaving only an obscene fungus stain on the wall behind. One look showed nobody had passed either way for centuries – at least no body material; both stairs were curtained thick with dust-caked webs. But between those stairs in the far wall were other doors. They were mostly warped shut, but the central one hung ajar from one hinge, and the splintered wood was recent.
When Mall and I peered in, we found it was a stair, wide but functional; and the darkness it led down into seemed to well up at us. We looked at each, shrugged, and waved the others after us. They obeyed, but not too eagerly – and that was the first time I’d noticed any real hesitation on this whole crazy voyage. Well, I couldn’t blame them. I’d no choice, and Mall and Jyp had made theirs for their own reasons. But even someone who loves gold and hates Wolves can be forgiven for not wanting to walk into such an obvious trap.