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Mark Chadbourn - The Silver Skull

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Название:
The Silver Skull
Автор
Издательство:
неизвестно
ISBN:
нет данных
Год:
неизвестен
Дата добавления:
4 октябрь 2019
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Mark Chadbourn - The Silver Skull

Mark Chadbourn - The Silver Skull краткое содержание

Mark Chadbourn - The Silver Skull - описание и краткое содержание, автор Mark Chadbourn, читайте бесплатно онлайн на сайте электронной библиотеки My-Library.Info
A devilish plot to assassinate the queen, a cold war enemy hell-bent on destroying the nation, incredible gadgets, a race against time around the world to stop the ultimate doomsday device... and Elizabethan England's greatest spy! Meet Will Swyfte—adventurer, swordsman, rake, swashbuckler, wit, scholar and the greatest of Walsingham's new band of spies. His exploits against the forces of Philip of Spain have made him a national hero, lauded from Carlisle to Kent. Yet his associates can barely disguise their incredulity—what is the point of a spy whose face and name is known across Europe? But Swyfte's public image is a carefully-crafted façade to give the people of England something to believe in, and to allow them to sleep peacefully at night. It deflects attention from his real work—and the true reason why Walsingham's spy network was established. A Cold War seethes, and England remains under a state of threat. The forces of Faerie have preyed on humanity for millennia. Responsible for our myths and legends, of gods and fairies, dragons, griffins, devils, imps and every other supernatural menace that has haunted our dreams, this power in the darkness has seen humans as playthings to be tormented, hunted or eradicated. But now England is fighting back! Magical defences have been put in place by the Queen's sorcerer Dr. John Dee, who is also a senior member of Walsingham's secret service and provides many of the bizarre gadgets utilised by the spies. Finally there is a balance of power. But the Cold War is threatening to turn hot at any moment... Will now plays a constant game of deceit and death, holding back the Enemy's repeated incursions, dealing in a shadowy world of plots and counter-plots, deceptions, secrets, murder, where no one... and no thing... is quite what it seems.

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"She would not have you see her like this," Walsingham said quietly. He closed the door a little more, but there was only one light and he did not want to plunge her into darkness.

"Is it as bad as we fear?" Dee asked.

"Worse. The Enemy has the run of the palace," Carpenter replied.

Walsingham hung his head dismally. After a moment, he said, "The queen would already be lost if Master Marlowe and Master Colt had not raised the alarm. There is still hope-"

He was interrupted by a loud crash echoing from the queen's bedchamber, followed by more as the furniture was thrown roughly around.

"Trapped," Launceston said. "How long before they find the passage?"


CHAPTER 57





crambling out of the window, Will pulled himself up onto the roof. The lichen-crusted tiles threatened to crumble beneath his boots and pitch him to the courtyard far below. The door to the Lantern Tower hung open, and though Cavillex had ventured inside, Will knew it was the place Dee mysteriously treasured most and he would have installed a series of doors and defences.

The tower was one of the newest constructions within the palace complex, erected rapidly not long after the beginning of Elizabeth's reign by her decree and under Dee's strict design. Around the top of the tower, beneath the conical tiled roof topped by a weather vane, ran decorative battlements to give the tower gravitas. Will hoped the stone was secure enough to take his weight.

A golden dawn dispelled the gloom that would have made his task impossible. Weighing the grapnel he had recovered from the store of unwanted ships' items in which he had hidden, he steeled himself, and then whirled it around his head before loosing it. His first attempt didn't even reach the tower. The second time the grapnel bounced off the stone wall with a resounding clang that he feared might draw attention. The third attempt failed too, and the fourth. A quarter of the way up the tower, the globe's ruddy glare was visible through one of the windows.

On the fifth occasion, the grapnel caught on the battlements, slipped a little, and then held tight. Wrapping the oily rope around his wrists, he put all doubts out of his mind and launched himself off the roof.

The battlement held. Bracing against the impact, he steadied himself and began to climb rapidly. One floor below the top, he swung in an arc to crash through one of the arch-shaped windows. Jagged glass tore the skin on his hands and arms, and he tumbled into a bone-numbing landing on the stone steps. Scrambling to his feet, he drew his sword. Above him, the way was barred by a heavy oak door marked with a series of Dee's sigils. From beneath it, the familiar green light gently pulsed.

The stairs spiralled down to another floor, and from somewhere below that he could hear the sound of Cavillex talking in a language he didn't recognise. As he prepared to descend, an odd feeling convulsed him: his thoughts twisted like the eels they hauled from the muddy waters of the Thames, and his stomach knotted and heaved. Blood dripped from his nose.

Cavillex, he thought. But the notion did not seem correct.

Before he could consider what it meant, a door crashed open below. Bounding down the steps, he found himself in a room that covered the entire floor of the tower, and on a table in the centre was the Shield.

As he made to grab the artefact, a trapdoor into the room burst open. A queasy feeling of dread filled the space. As his senses skewed, shadows flew, accompanied by a distorted noise that reminded Will of crows in a winter sky. The dank, underground smell of loam. He knew what was coming, and however much Dee prepared him to deal with the disorienting qualities of the Unseelie Court, he was never ready.

Grey figures surged. Will caught only the briefest impression of hateful eyes and churchyard faces amid a pooling dark before he was enveloped in a furious battle.

His perceptions slid around the room's new occupants. All he could do was slash and lunge with his sword in wild abandon, feeling some blows parried, others tearing through bodies. One of the Enemy fell at his feet. Another thrust a blade that tore open the flesh on Will's neck. The Enemy were faster than most men, their stamina greater, and though Will's swordskill was more refined, the fight was unequal.

Briefly, Will glimpsed Cavillex, red-rimmed eyes flaring, his contempt too strong to contain, but it felt like the dark was closing in from every side. Somehow he managed to keep himself between the Shield and his opponents.

Three of the Unseelie Court moved around him like ghosts at twilight. But they were substantial. He laid one down with a thrust through the heart, but the other two surged forwards from opposite sides. Will parried the first, rolled quickly out of the way of the other.

As the second drove a sword towards his chest, Will dropped to his knees and flipped backwards. When he came up, he caught the toe of his boot under a stool, thrashing it viciously into his opponents' faces. The crunch of shattering bone echoed across the room and one of them went down. As the other attacker sprawled over the falling body, Will laid open his throat with the tip of his sword, following through with two heart-thrusts to end their lives.

Another attacker ran forwards. Will didn't even attempt to confront him. Stepping to one side at the last moment, he rammed his hand at the back of his enemy's head, propelling it into the window, and through it. As the broken glass ripped open his opponent's face, Will heaved both elbows onto the back of the neck, driving the shards at the base of the window through the throat.

The elemental fury that consumed Cavillex was so potent Will could barely look at him. "How honourably you kill." The voice, like stones dropped on a coffin, echoed from all parts of the room.

"There is no honour in any of this," Will replied. "Only survival."

As Cavillex stalked forwards, Will levelled his sword and said with a humourless grin, "We have business, you and I."

"Why, we have been in business for a long while," Cavillex said enigmatically. A bone white hand gestured towards the Shield. "You transported that item to the place where we needed it to be."

Will laughed, but Cavillex's oppressive aura sucked any humour from his voice. "You try to make a cake out of crumbs."

"I make the truth out of shadows ... shadows to you. What safer place for the Shield than here? If we had kept it in Edinburgh, you would not have let us rest. With it here, we could go about our work untroubled, knowing the item we valued most was ready for us when the time was right."

Another manipulation. Was he that easy to direct?

"You always do our bidding," Cavillex said, as if he could read Will's thoughts. "You, your fellows. We know what makes your hearts beat faster. We understand your fears and sadnesses. We see the crack in the door, ready to be pushed wide." The weight of his attention became unbearable. "We run you, like you run the animals in the field."

Keeping his sword trained on Cavillex, Will fumbled blindly until his fingers closed on the Shield. "You could set the Silver Skull loose, destroy all of London, perhaps all of England. Why do you need the Shield?" he asked.

"Because we do not wish to destroy all." His presence sucked every glimmer of light from the room. Will felt as if he was standing in the deepest dungeon. "Dartmoor looms large in the minds of my people. And there are greater punishments than death, as you well know." An icy smile, challenging Will to deny it.

A clatter rose up from the stairs. Cavillex didn't look, but his smile grew broader as if he knew exactly who was coming. Without taking his eyes off Will, he gave a languorous summons with the fingers of his left hand, and the Silver Skull climbed through the trapdoor.

"Mayhew. You are a traitorous bastard-" Will began emotionlessly, until he was interrupted by another figure behind the Skull.

"Grace." His eyes flashed to Cavillex. "If you have harmed her-"

"She has not been harmed. See?" Pale fingers eased under Grace's chin to raise her head. She blinked dreamily, her gaze finally alighting on Will.

"Will ... it is so good to see you," she said.

"Our entrance to the palace would have been much more difficult without her help," Cavillex said.

Other members of the Unseelie Court bustled into the room, surrounding Grace. It was impossible for Will to get to her. Backing away until his heel was on the first step of the flight he had descended, Will moved his sword back and forth, ready for the first attack, but he could never overcome the weight of numbers.

"We shall go from this room, and take your queen and infect her with a disease that will eat away her skin, her bone, her senses, yet keep her alive," Cavillex said. "She will suffer unimaginable agony, without respite."

Will thought he saw Mayhew flinch.

"Once we have her, we will release a plague across all London," Cavillex continued. "An entire city will die in a moment. With the Shield, we will be untouched by the whirlwind of disease unleashed by the Silver Skull, and we will walk through it, alongside your queen so she can see the corpses rotting in the street. Then we will take her to our home, to live on with the memory, and the pain."

Will was stunned by the cruelty of Cavillex's scheme; the unnecessary death and suffering, purely because their supremacy had been challenged.

"Your nation will be crushed by the magnitude of the blow struck against you," Cavillex added. "And that will only be the beginning of your country's agonies."

Will examined the Shield in the palm of his hand. "So, without this arte fact you cannot unleash the full fury of the Skull and survive. You will be corrupted too, here at the heart of the whirlwind."

Will backed up the stairs another step. "The cost of this item is high," he said, holding the Shield up so Cavillex could see it. "How many of your lives will buy it?"

"You are a lesser creature and you have already taken too many of our lives," Cavillex replied. He gently led Grace forwards. "As you value life so lightly, your friend's death will be meaningless to you."

Will hid his concern. "If you wish to barter the girl's life for this trinket, think again. That route has already been tried. My loyalty lies with queen and country ... and seeing the destruction of your kind."

"You misunderstand. I do not barter. We will take the Shield from you when we slaughter you. The loss of this girl's life is a punishment for your brutality. The sight of her dying-the consequence of your actions-will be the one you take with you to the grave."

Will stepped forwards, but the other members of the Unseelie Court closed around Grace. He would never reach her.

"You claim to be the injured party, but slaughter comes easily to you. If you kill without regard, if you murder your own, even, over arguments about religion and politics, if morals do not guide you, then how can you expect us to act any differently?" Cavillex continued.

"You have forced us down to your level."

Cavillex's laughter was harsh and mocking.

"Again, this is about survival," Will said. "We do not have the luxury of morals or gentility when we are being preyed upon." Even as Will spoke, he could hear the hollow ring to his words.

Tired of Will, Cavillex turned to Mayhew and said, "Make her die, now, in a way that will scar his mind forever."

In Mayhew's hesitation, Will saw a chink and acted quickly, "Do not do this, Mayhew. Grace is an innocent. Kill her and you will be damned for eternity."

"He is already damned," Cavillex said lightly. "That is the least of his concerns."

"Mayhew," Will pressed. "Do not ally yourself with these monsters. Whatever rewards they have promised you, they are not enough to tempt you to turn your back on your fellow man, or on your own humanity."

"Do you think we bribed him with gold? You truly do not understand us," Cavillex said. "We know every part of you. We understand your weaknesses, your flaws, and we play them like a musician plays his instrument. A personal weakness makes you its mare, and it rides you hard, and you cannot throw it off, whatever you do. None of you are that strong. The only way he will be free of his torment-the only way he will be free of the mask-is to do my bidding." He pointed a slender finger at the Silver Skull and then directed it to Grace. "Kill her. Now."

Mayhew turned his face to Will as if offering his apologies, and then raised his hand to Grace's forehead.

"No, Matthew," Will pleaded. "Grace does not deserve this."

Mayhew hesitated for the briefest moment, and then planted his hand on the nearest member of the Unseelie Court. In the swimming dark, Will glimpsed convulsions, boils, blackening skin, eyes growing thick with pus, a foaming mouth. Mayhew turned to the next, and another, both hands reaching out.

The inhuman shrieks were so loud Will thought his ears would burst. As the shadows whirled, he had the impression of Cavillex throwing himself away from Mayhew towards the trapdoor. The red-rimmed eyes, with no glimmer of humanity in them, would haunt him forever.

"You do not know us as well as you think," Will called after him. "Our weaknesses do not define us."

As the Enemy fell around Mayhew, Cavillex lashed out. Will caught the glint of a blade driving towards Grace, and with an instinctive lunge yanked her out of its path. The blade continued into Mayhew's chest.

Cavillex's voice set Will's teeth on edge: "Some part of our account will be balanced this day. Your queen will die." And with that, he was gone.

Still gripped by the Unseelie enchantment, Grace stood blissfully as Mayhew lay beside her in a growing pool of blood. "Take care of Mayhew in his final moments," Will called to her, unsure if it would have any effect. He paused briefly beside Mayhew and whispered, "At the last, you did right." And then he was down the steps in pursuit of Cavillex, for the life of the queen.


CHAPTER 58





my the musket-shot crack of Cavillex's boots disturbed the dawn stillness of the palace as he swept into the range of buildings that would eventually lead him to the queen's quarters. Will was close behind.

Through the windows, he could see the grey shadows of more of the Unseelie Court patrolling the palace grounds, oblivious to the drama that was unfolding. If Cavillex gained the opportunity to raise the alarm, there would be nothing Will could do to protect the queen, or himself, or any of them still alive there.

But Cavillex appeared consumed by a furious rage, driven by the deaths of his associates and the failure of his intricate plan, his only thought revenge of the most brutal kind.

Rounding a corner, Will caught up with Cavillex among three more of the Unseelie Court. Cold faces snapped towards him, black eyes devoid of all compassion; his mind squirmed under their attention. Doubling back quickly, he bounded up the stairs to the next floor and took an alternative route.


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