length and in the chamber that lay maybe twenty paces beyond. It was almost as if he was being invited in. The only thing he didn’t know was the identity of the person or creature issuing the invitation.
He walked on, not hesitating this time, but heading directly into the tunnel. He was halfway along it when the lights flickered, for a second only, a rapid descent into darkness and an equally sudden return to light. And now Will felt the cold in his spine again because in that second a figure had walked past the far entrance.
The chamber ahead appeared empty now, but he had seen a figure cross, he was certain of it. He walked on, cautious, ready to strike first, and was almost at the end of the tunnel when once again the lights blacked out before firing back more brightly than before, or so it seemed.
Will’s eyes smarted against the sudden glare, but he stood his ground, holding his sabre at arm’s length in front of him. He blinked, desperate to get his vision back, because one thing he could see through the light blindness – he was no longer alone.
A figure stood in the middle of the chamber, facing him, fair-haired, wearing a dark suit and a dog collar, looking quite alive – Reverend Fairburn, Wyndham’s spy from the cathedral library. He looked as solid as he had in the moments before falling to his death.
Will stepped into the circular chamber, his sword still at the ready, but Fairburn looked down at it and said, “There’s no need for that, nor would it be of much use – I’m an apparition.”
Will looked around the chamber. He noticed the walls here were decorated, unlike the chamber with the bronze relief, but all he really wanted to see was that they were alone in there. Once satisfied of that, Will slipped the sword back into his belt, but moved away from the tunnel and edged round the chamber until he could see both the spirit and the way out.
He looked at the ghost of Fairburn and said, “Is it not enough that Wyndham made you his servant in life? Now he enslaves you even in death, denying you your peace.”
“Oh, I came gladly for this task. You seek your destiny, isn’t that so?”
“We all seek our destinies in one way or another.”
“True. Well, William of Mercia, prepare yourself because I’m about to show you yours.”
Will laughed and said, “You’re about to show me what Wyndham would have me believe. You may be a spirit, you may have been dragged from the next world just as my brother was, but neither you nor Wyndham know any more about my destiny than I do. Tell me Wyndham’s lies if you wish, but they will be just that, lies.”
Fairburn’s expression didn’t change. He turned and stared directly at Will, the thing he had tried to avoid so much at their last meeting, and said, “You killed me. Iknow I jumped, but it was the lesser evil. You killed me, William of Mercia, that is why I am here. I am about to show you the true nature of your destiny, and trust me, you will know it to be the truth and you will despair.”
9
“D o your worst,” said Will, sceptical and yet still intrigued. “Whatever my destiny, I know my own heart.”
“Do you?”
Will had stepped back against the wall to prepare for whatever was about to happen, his left hand still poised to reach for his sword if needed. Fairburn remained in the middle of the chamber, but raised his hands now as if invoking a short prayer. When he lowered them again, he smiled and said, “Behold.”
For a moment nothing happened, but then Will noticed the walls had become less solid around them, shimmering in the way he remembered the air on the hottest summer days. Across the room, a figure appeared, at first like a carved stone relief within the wall, then taking more shape, then colour, before emerging solid and real into the chamber.
Another ghost, another he recognised, from the bare feet and grubby blue top, the scraggly beard. The spiritwalked past Fairburn, heading towards a point just to the
He walked on, not hesitating this time, but heading directly into the tunnel. He was halfway along it when the lights flickered, for a second only, a rapid descent into darkness and an equally sudden return to light. And now Will felt the cold in his spine again because in that second a figure had walked past the far entrance.
The chamber ahead appeared empty now, but he had seen a figure cross, he was certain of it. He walked on, cautious, ready to strike first, and was almost at the end of the tunnel when once again the lights blacked out before firing back more brightly than before, or so it seemed.
Will’s eyes smarted against the sudden glare, but he stood his ground, holding his sabre at arm’s length in front of him. He blinked, desperate to get his vision back, because one thing he could see through the light blindness – he was no longer alone.
A figure stood in the middle of the chamber, facing him, fair-haired, wearing a dark suit and a dog collar, looking quite alive – Reverend Fairburn, Wyndham’s spy from the cathedral library. He looked as solid as he had in the moments before falling to his death.
Will stepped into the circular chamber, his sword still at the ready, but Fairburn looked down at it and said, “There’s no need for that, nor would it be of much use – I’m an apparition.”
Will looked around the chamber. He noticed the walls here were decorated, unlike the chamber with the bronze relief, but all he really wanted to see was that they were alone in there. Once satisfied of that, Will slipped the sword back into his belt, but moved away from the tunnel and edged round the chamber until he could see both the spirit and the way out.
He looked at the ghost of Fairburn and said, “Is it not enough that Wyndham made you his servant in life? Now he enslaves you even in death, denying you your peace.”
“Oh, I came gladly for this task. You seek your destiny, isn’t that so?”
“We all seek our destinies in one way or another.”
“True. Well, William of Mercia, prepare yourself because I’m about to show you yours.”
Will laughed and said, “You’re about to show me what Wyndham would have me believe. You may be a spirit, you may have been dragged from the next world just as my brother was, but neither you nor Wyndham know any more about my destiny than I do. Tell me Wyndham’s lies if you wish, but they will be just that, lies.”
Fairburn’s expression didn’t change. He turned and stared directly at Will, the thing he had tried to avoid so much at their last meeting, and said, “You killed me. Iknow I jumped, but it was the lesser evil. You killed me, William of Mercia, that is why I am here. I am about to show you the true nature of your destiny, and trust me, you will know it to be the truth and you will despair.”
9
“D o your worst,” said Will, sceptical and yet still intrigued. “Whatever my destiny, I know my own heart.”
“Do you?”
Will had stepped back against the wall to prepare for whatever was about to happen, his left hand still poised to reach for his sword if needed. Fairburn remained in the middle of the chamber, but raised his hands now as if invoking a short prayer. When he lowered them again, he smiled and said, “Behold.”
For a moment nothing happened, but then Will noticed the walls had become less solid around them, shimmering in the way he remembered the air on the hottest summer days. Across the room, a figure appeared, at first like a carved stone relief within the wall, then taking more shape, then colour, before emerging solid and real into the chamber.
Another ghost, another he recognised, from the bare feet and grubby blue top, the scraggly beard. The spiritwalked past Fairburn, heading towards a point just to the
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