CHAPTER
TWENTY-FIVE

 

 

As he stood shivering by the well soon after dawn the following morning, William looked up at the gray clouds gathering in the sky to the north. There would be snow before nightfall.

William was preoccupied as he went about his morning chores. He fetched water, carried firewood, took food to Brother Odo and the hob in the infirmary, and helped Peter carry turnips from the small shed at the far end of the garden to the kitchen. Time and again, his thoughts turned to what lay ahead, to the walk through the forest to the Hollow. When they got there, how would they find the grave? And what if the monks had buried the angel deep in the earth?

No, he told himself, they wouldn’t have. They had dug the grave at night, in a snowstorm, and they had been in a hurry. The grave would be shallow.

On his way to fetch a basket of kindling from the woodshed, he saw Shadlok sharpening the blade of his sword on the big circular whetstone in the carpentry shed. The fay glanced up at him but said nothing. William paused in the doorway, listening to the rasp of metal on stone.

“What if we don’t find the . . . what we’re looking for?” William asked, glancing around, even though he knew there was nobody about. The monks were all in the church for mass.

Shadlok lifted the sword blade from the whetstone and examined the cutting edge. “We will find it.”

“We might not,” William persisted. “There might be nothing left.”

Shadlok’s eyes narrowed. There was a warning note in his voice. “I said, we will find it.”

William watched as Shadlok polished the blade with a rag. The metal gleamed, sharp and deadly.

“Why do you want me there with you?” William asked. It was something that had been troubling him. The fay was strong enough to dig out the grave in half the time it would take William. Shadlok did not need his help.

The cold blue eyes glanced at him briefly. “I have my reasons.”

“Do you ever give a straight answer to a question?” William asked, exasperated.

“Sometimes.” Shadlok held up the sword and turned it slowly. It glinted in the light and William saw an interlaced pattern welded into the blade.

William waited to see if the fay had anything else to say, but he didn’t.

“Just don’t forget your promise not to harm Brother Snail,” William said.

“I did not promise,” Shadlok said, sheathing the sword. As he brushed past William, he added, “I do not make promises to humans.”

William watched him walk away across the yard with deep dislike. Shadlok was a Seelie fay, a creature of the light, but as far as William could see, he was no better than the Dark King.

 

William fetched a shovel from the barn. Brother Stephen kept all the abbey’s tools clean and well cared for, so the shovel was good and solid, with a sharp iron blade. He let himself out through the wicket gate and hid it in the reeds beside the bridge. It would be safe there until he retrieved it on his way to the Hollow.

When the bells for sext clanged out at noon, William made his way to the gatehouse to wait for Master Bone and Shadlok. He wondered what excuse Master Bone had given for wanting William to leave the abbey with him. What if the prior refused to let William go? There was a flutter of panic in William’s chest. Would Shadlok just let Brother Snail die?

William paced back and forth as he tried to keep warm. A chilly breeze played chase with dead leaves and bits of straw across the yard. It was not a day to be standing about, and even the hens had chosen to stay indoors. At last, Shadlok and Master Bone walked around the corner of the west range, accompanied by Prior Ardo and, at a safe distance, Brother Gabriel.

Brother Stephen led three horses out of the stable and waited while Shadlok helped his master to climb up into the saddle. The third horse was Matilda, the abbey’s mare. She carried bundles and bags of Master Bone’s possessions. The rest of his things would be sent for later.

“Here, boy!” the prior called, beckoning William over. “Lead the mare to Sir Robert’s house at Weforde for Master Bone. You can stay there tonight, and Shadlok will see you get back safely in the morning.”

William took the mare’s reins. Dread was like a lead weight in the pit of his stomach. He glanced at Shadlok, but the fay’s face was expressionless.

The prior did not look happy with the arrangement, but William suspected he had been paid well for his trouble. He turned to Master Bone and added, “I sent our lay brother, Peter, to Yagleah this morning, to warn them that outlaws were at large in Foxwist again. They’ll have taken word to Sir Robert by now and he’ll have sent his men into the forest to hunt for them. Your passage to Weforde should be safe enough, God willing.”

“Thank you for your kindness,” Master Bone said, his voice muffled behind the mask. He bowed his head slowly to the prior. It was hard to tell if he was being sarcastic or not. A flush rose to Prior Ardo’s sallow cheeks and he looked uncomfortable. He must have been aware of how thinly spread his hospitality had been.

“Travel safely, and God protect you,” the prior said stiffly.

Shadlok turned his horse’s head and set off toward the gatehouse. Master Bone followed. William gave Matilda’s reins a gentle tug and she ambled after him. The prior caught hold of William’s arm and, with a wary glance at Master Bone, whispered, “Keep your distance from them, boy, as much as possible. Do not touch Master Bone’s possessions any more than you have to, and do not let him breathe on you.”

“I’ll try not to,” William said. At least he and the prior were in agreement about that.

The prior nodded. “We will pray for you.”

The gates were closed and barred behind them before they were halfway across the bridge. William retrieved the shovel and wedged it between two bags on the mare’s back.

William wore every bit of clothing he owned, as well as a pair of coarse woollen mittens he had borrowed from Peter, but he was still cold. His nose hurt more today than it had yesterday and he knew his face was mottled with bruises, because Peter had told him so. He also knew a broken nose was likely to be the least of his problems by the end of the day. I’ll be lucky if I still have a nose, he thought, or anything else, come to that.

Jacobus Bone was hunched forward in his saddle, the stumps of his hands resting on the pommel. There was an air of utter weariness about him, and William felt a stir of pity for the man. It would take a harder heart than William’s to begrudge Master Bone his cure.

Shadlok looked relaxed as he rode along. One hand rested lightly on his thigh and his shoulders were back. If he was worried about what lay ahead, it did not show.

They passed the sad huddle of dead animals and birds. Feathers and fur were damp and bedraggled, eyes clouded with death. William’s mouth hardened into a straight line as he stared at the bodies. If he survived what was to follow, he would come back and bury them.

They reached the Boundary Oak. Up ahead, William could see the rag-hung trees and bushes near the Hollow, and his stomach tightened with fear. There was no escape now, and the enormity of what he was about to do left him breathless.

“Frightened, William?” Jacobus asked, his thin voice just a hoarse rasp.

“A little,” William admitted.

“We have asked a great deal of you today, and for that I am truly sorry,” Jacobus continued, “but you will be rewarded for your help. What is it you would most like to have? I am a wealthy man and I will grant you whatever you ask, if it is in my power to do so.”

“There is one thing I want,” William said.

“Name it and it will be yours.”

“I want Brother Snail to wake up from whatever spell he put him under,” William said, jerking his head toward Shadlok. The fay glanced over his shoulder, a look of surprise on his face.

Master Bone was silent for a moment. “And that is all you want?”

“Yes.”

Jacobus nodded slowly. William had the feeling that Master Bone was pleased by his answer.

“We chose well, my old friend,” Jacobus said softly, leaning toward Shadlok.

“So it would seem,” Shadlok replied, his tone giving nothing away.

“There is no doubt about it. Only one pure in heart and gifted with the Sight will be able to complete the task, you know that,” Jacobus went on, gently insistent. William had to listen hard to catch the whispered words. “This boy is both. He must be the one.”

“We will find out soon enough.” Shadlok stared straight ahead.

What did Jacobus mean, he was the one? William wondered. It seemed they were not merely bringing him along to help dig out the grave but had chosen him for some other task. He didn’t like the sound of that at all.

“The horses will not be able to get through the undergrowth,” Shadlok said, dismounting. “We will leave them over there, out of sight.” He nodded to the scrub on the far side of the track, away from the Hollow.

William led Matilda between the trees and tied her reins securely to a hazel sapling. If he did not return to the abbey, for whatever reason, the monks would not have too much trouble finding her. They would not be able to see her, but if she was hungry enough, they would certainly hear her.

Shadlok helped Jacobus to dismount and then led their horses into the wood. William unpacked the shovel and walked back to the track to wait for them.

“Are the Dark King’s warriors following us?” he asked, shivering beneath his woollen tunic and jacket. His fingers inside the mittens were numb with cold.

“No,” Shadlok said, “though it will only be a matter of time before they find us. Do you still have the knife I gave you, human?”

William nodded, and lifted aside the front of his jacket to show the knife tucked into his belt.

“Good. Now, lead the way.”

William walked over to the edge of the track. Taking a deep breath, he put up his arms to protect his face and forced his way between the holly bushes. The wood was more overgrown than he remembered. Thorns snagged his clothing and scratched his face and neck. Holly branches caught in his hair and trailing ivy stems wrapped around his ankles and tried to trip him up. He pushed aside branches with the shovel and grunted with the effort of pulling free from vicious ropes of bramble, whose huge thorns could easily rip flesh from bone.

The ground sloped gradually downhill and he saw the dark bulk of the yew tree a little way ahead. They were almost there. Only another twenty paces or so and they would reach the clearing around the pool.

And then he heard it, a soft, low whistle. He froze. It came again and his blood turned to ice. Surely no living creature could make that unearthly sound? He looked over his shoulder at Shadlok. The fay’s expression was grim, his eyes wide and fierce.

“Keep moving,” Shadlok said.

William pushed on through the undergrowth. His shoulders were hunched up to his ears as he tried to block out the whistling. He could not work out where it was coming from; one moment it seemed to be up ahead, the next it was right beside him. Sweat ran down between his shoulder blades, quickly cooling on his chilled body. He edged his way around the yew and was relieved to see the steely glint of the pool through the tangled thicket ahead of him. The whistling faded into a sibilant hiss that made the hairs on the back of his neck stand on end. It rose and fell, like something breathing.

Shadlok’s knuckles dug William in the back, forcing him to keep walking.

The sound died away on a long sigh. The silence that followed made William’s skin crawl; there was nothing to see or hear, but the sense of being watched was overwhelming.

Faint ripples spread across the dark surface of the pool as water from the spring trickled into it. Shadows gathered in the undergrowth and the gray afternoon light leached away what little color there might have been in the woodland that encircled the clearing.

William reached the hazel tree and looked around. He hugged the shovel to his chest and shivered, as much from fear as cold. “Where do we start digging?”

The Hollow was as large as the monks’ graveyard at the abbey. How were they supposed to find one unmarked grave here? It could take days, and they might only have minutes.

Shadlok frowned as he gazed around. For once, William noticed with a trace of satisfaction, he did not look so sure of himself. He pointed to a level patch of ground near the hazel tree. “Start there.”

William scraped aside the dead leaves, then swung the shovel into the earth and began to dig.

For a while, the only sound in the Hollow was the ring of metal on stone as William hacked away at the hard ground.

Shadlok kept watch for unwelcome visitors, prowling around the edge of the clearing, sword in hand. Jacobus Bone sat on a fallen tree, a silent, hunched figure, watching William as he worked.

The roots of the hazel tree were a twisted tangle in the earth. It was impossible to dig through them. William leaned on the handle of the shovel for a few moments to rest his aching shoulder muscles. The tree was old, its trunk as broad as a man’s neck and the mossy bark deeply scored. It must have been growing here when the angel was buried, or the monk would not have drawn the hazelnut as a clue. The grave had to be close by, but not this close to the roots.

“Why have you stopped?” Shadlok called.

“The grave can’t be here. There are too many roots.”

The fay made an impatient noise and sprinted lightly down the slope to stand beside him. “Where, then?”

William turned on him angrily. “I don’t know! I wasn’t here when they buried the body. I didn’t draw the pictures on the book page. None of this has anything to do with me. I don’t know!”

Shadlok looked startled by his outburst. He sheathed his sword and took the shovel from William. He walked slowly around the clearing, jabbing at the ground every few paces. There was an intent look on his face. A short distance from the pool, just before the ground sloped uphill, he stopped.

“Here,” he said, holding the shovel out to William. “Dig here.”

A sudden breeze stirred the branches of the trees around the clearing. William caught a movement out of the corner of his eye. A gray mist was rising up from the surface of the pool. It coiled between the dead reeds and up through the branches of the hazel tree. The whistling started again, like the single note from a pipe. The sound seemed to get inside William’s head.

“Dig!” Shadlok said sharply, pushing the shovel into William’s shaking hands.

The earth was just soft and damp enough for the shovel blade to cut through without too much backbreaking effort. Nevertheless, it was still hard work. William hacked and scraped as fast as he could, fear making his movements clumsy. He stopped just long enough to pull off his hood, jacket, and the thick woollen mittens. He threw them aside and rolled up the sleeves of his tunic.

Shadlok moved to stand between William and the pool. The mist spread out across the clearing, creeping purposefully toward William. The whistling turned to furious, ear-splitting shrieks that made him flinch with pain. Shadlok stood his ground, saying something in a low voice, words that William did not understand. He could feel their power, though, and knew Shadlok was battling the misty presence in the clearing with magic. The mist coiled and seethed and radiated malevolence, but came no closer to the grave.

The hole beneath William’s feet was growing bigger by the minute. There were no roots to hinder him, just stones and black earth. Sweat ran into his eyes. He wiped it away with his sleeve. His broken nose throbbed with pain and his back and shoulders ached. Something touched his face and he glanced up. A few snowflakes, as soft as lamb’s wool, drifted idly down between the lattice of branches overhead. The daylight was starting to fade.

There was a muttered curse from Shadlok and William was alarmed to see the fay take a few steps backward. The mist was gaining strength.

“Quickly, human. We are running out of time,” Shadlok said urgently.

On the far side of the clearing, Jacobus struggled to his feet, and even at this distance, William could hear the man’s ragged and gasping breath as he watched what was happening.

Terrified, William shoveled the earth from the bottom of the hole as hard and fast as he could. Something pale caught his eye and he crouched down to take a closer look.

It was a piece of white cloth. William’s hand shook as he pulled at it. More of the material unraveled and came free. It was as white as goose down and far too clean for something that had been in the earth for a hundred years. William sat back on his heels and stared at the cloth uneasily. There was something very odd about this.

“I think I’ve found it,” he called, his voice unsteady.

Jacobus took a couple of faltering steps forward, his whole body quivering with excitement. Shadlok pushed past William and knelt down to scrape the loose earth aside, uncovering more of the white material.

William gasped as Shadlok pulled aside a fold of fabric to reveal a hand. A deathly pale, long-fingered hand, perfect and whole.

“I . . . I don’t understand . . . ,” William stammered, turning to Shadlok. “I thought there would be just bones.”

The fay’s face showed no surprise. There was not enough room in the hole for two people, so William scrambled out and stood shivering on the edge, his arms wrapped tightly around his chest. As Shadlok uncovered more of the body, the shrieks from the mist grew louder. But the fay’s magic was powerful. The mist seethed against an invisible barrier, unable to reach the grave.

Something moved on the edge of the clearing. William turned and saw a stag. It sniffed the air and its flanks quivered nervously as it looked around. It took a cautious step forward and turned its dark eyes toward the grave. A second deer, a doe, stepped out of the undergrowth, followed a moment later by a large dog fox.

William stared around the clearing in wonder as squirrels and badgers, a whole family of foxes and several more deer crept out of the forest. One of the fox cubs ran over to the edge of the grave, more curious than fearful. Behind the animals, other creatures emerged from the dusk; strange creatures from hidden places: fays and misty spirit shapes, some no more than tiny points of light, others almost as tall as the trees. They were drawn to the angel like cold hands to a fire.

William looked back at the grave. The angel lay on its back with its hands crossed on its chest. Between its fingers William could see the broken shaft of an arrow, but there was no blood on its robe. Perhaps angels did not have blood. He held his breath as Shadlok carefully brushed the earth from the angel’s face with his fingertips.

The creature in the grave might simply have been asleep. The face was long and narrow, with high cheekbones. The smooth skin had a blue tinge, which darkened around the eye sockets and around the nails. Its hair was long and silver-blue and it wore a robe of milk-white fabric, pure and unstained. It was impossible to guess if the creature was male or female; it could have been either.

Suddenly, something deathly cold touched William’s leg. He gasped with the shock and stared in horror. The gray mist had broken through Shadlok’s barrier and was beginning to climb slowly up his body. Shadlok was still murmuring but his face was twisted with pain and there were beads of sweat on his brow. The mist curled around William like coils of rope, tighter and tighter, higher and higher, slowly crushing the life out of him. He struggled to breathe. Lights whirled inside his head and he felt himself pitching forward into darkness.

And then the grip eased. Cold air flooded into his lungs and he lay gasping and coughing on the ground. He pushed himself up onto his knees and peered around the clearing. The mist had gone. Shadlok had recovered his strength and stood by the grave, arms raised, lips moving soundlessly. The animals stood their ground, eyes wary and bodies tensed for flight.

“Pull the arrow out,” Shadlok said over his shoulder.

It was a moment or so before William realized what the fay meant.

“M-me?”

“Do it,” Shadlok snapped.

“Only you can do this, William,” Jacobus called urgently. “Do it now.”

William took a hesitant step toward the edge of the grave. The palms of his clenched hands were damp with sweat, and his legs trembled. This was why they had brought him here, he realized. Not to dig up the grave, but to pull the arrow from the angel’s body.

“Do what he asks and I will kill you where you stand,” a soft voice said somewhere close by.

William spun around and saw a man dressed all in dark green, standing unarmed and alone at the top of the slope. He heard Shadlok draw a sharp breath. The man was half a head taller than William, lean in build but wide-shouldered. His hair was the color of old blood and it hung straight and gleaming down his back. His face was sharply boned and his skin was pale and flawless. The shocking brilliance of his green eyes marked him as a creature that was not human. For some reason William knew with complete certainty that this was the Dark King.

“Ignore him. Pull out the arrow,” Shadlok said evenly, glancing down at William. “Trust me, I will protect you.” He sounded calm but William saw the tense set of his jaw and knew that they were in danger.

“Do it!”

William jumped into the grave and knelt down. Carefully, he lifted the angel’s hands aside. He gasped as something hit his shoulder and landed on the angel’s chest. It was a moment before he realized what it was. A sparrow, small and crumpled, blood gleaming wetly around its open beak. Startled, William fell back against the side of the grave. Seconds later another bird, a robin, landed with a small thud beside the sparrow. It looked as if it had been crushed to death.

The Dark King walked down into the Hollow and stood in front of Shadlok. His eyes burned like wildfire, and his mouth was drawn back in a twisted sneer.

“Still surrounding yourself with humans, Sceath-hlakk? Have you no pride left?”

Shadlok said nothing. His eyes were slits of blue ice.

The king glanced at William, a look of contempt on his thin face. “Get away from there.”

William looked uncertainly at Shadlok.

“Remove the arrow, human,” Shadlok said without turning around. “Do not stop for anything.”

William picked up the dead robin and stroked its chest feathers with a trembling finger. He laid it gently on the edge of the grave and placed the sparrow beside it. He glanced at the Dark King with deep loathing. He was sure the king had killed the birds, using fay magic. But why? The birds had nothing to do with what was happening in the Hollow.

“The arrow!” Shadlok said furiously.

William bent toward the angel’s chest. A high-pitched yowl somewhere close by made him jump. He stared around wildly and saw the dog fox over by the edge of the pond, writhing on the ground in agony. Its legs jerked and its muzzle was flecked with spittle and blood. Its eyes had rolled back in their sockets and were blind white. William watched in horror as the animal fell into the water and struggled desperately to stop itself from drowning.

“Get away from the grave,” the Dark King said, his voice low and full of poison, “or the blood of every one of these creatures will be on your hands.”

William looked around the Hollow. All the creatures that had come out of the forest were like flies trapped in honey by the king’s spell. He saw the glint of terror in wild eyes and the twitch of paralyzed bodies. The stag fell to its knees and collapsed onto its side, its mighty antlers gouging the ground as it thrashed in its death throes. With a sudden jerk, its neck broke and the light left its eyes.

William thought he was going to be sick. Bile stung his throat. He slumped forward and touched the cold hand of the angel. There was a tingle in his fingers and he had the oddest sensation of something flowing up into his arm, something calm and pure. He breathed in deeply and straightened up. The Dark King and Shadlok faced each other, eyes locked, bodies rigid. William could feel the magic in the air, heavy and oppressive, as the two fays struggled silently against one another. For a few moments time seemed to stop. They seemed to be equally matched, and William felt a brief flicker of relief. If Shadlok could just hold off the king for a few minutes longer . . .

Suddenly, a tangle of black feathers and claws flew across the clearing, heading straight for Shadlok’s face. The fay ducked aside and the bird fell to the ground, broken and dead. That brief moment of distraction was all the Dark King needed. He pointed to Shadlok and spoke in a language William did not understand, his words battering Shadlok like sharp stones. Shadlok staggered sideways but quickly regained his footing. He held up a hand as if to shield himself from the king’s words, but in the next moment, another crow was hurled through the air and this time its beak and claws caught Shadlok’s face. Blood welled from deep gashes on his cheek and trickled down his neck. Then a third crow came flying toward him. Finally shaken into action, William grabbed a stone from the pile of earth beside the grave and flung it as hard as he could, catching the huge bird full on the chest. The crow spun away and landed with a thump on the ground. William desperately hoped it had been dead before his stone hit it.

With a great effort, Shadlok turned and swung his arm in a wide arc toward the king. Magic crackled through the Hollow like lightning and the Dark King snarled in fury as his words of power fell short of their mark.

Time was running out. William knew he had to remove the arrow now. He forced himself to look away as the fox cub jerked and twitched in a slow and painful death dance. It tumbled into the grave by the angel’s head and lay still on the silver-blue hair. William could smell blood and fear on the air and tried to block out the anguished yelps and screams of dying creatures as the enraged king renewed his assault.

Feeling as if his heart were breaking into pieces, William gently pushed the cub’s body aside. Taking a deep breath, he gripped the broken arrow shaft and began to pull.

At first, the arrow seemed to be firmly lodged in the angel’s chest. Then, slowly, it started to move. William clamped his jaws tightly together and tried not to hear the rasp of wood against flesh and bone as he worked it loose. It came free with a sudden unpleasant slurch, and he fell against the side of the grave.

To his horror, the angel’s body began to convulse and there was a choking sound in its throat.

William scrambled to his feet, terror shooting through him like nails. He watched, wide-eyed with disbelief, as the angel put a hand over the wound in its chest. Its mouth opened and it took a huge, juddering breath, gulping at the air like a drowning man breaking the surface of the water. The eyes opened, black as polished jet, and stared up at the sky.

William edged his way backward, up and out of the grave. The angel sat up, blinked, and gazed around as if it was struggling to understand what was happening. William caught a glimpse of something just showing above its shoulders, the upper curves of white-feathered wings.

The angel rose to its feet slowly and stiffly, as if every joint and muscle hurt, until it was standing upright in the grave, its slim body almost twice William’s height. There was a soft rustle as it flexed its wings. They lifted and spread wide, shaking bits of earth and small stones from between the feathers.

The angel turned to look at the two fays. It raised an arm and held the palm of its hand toward the Dark King. For several moments, the king held his ground, the fierce green eyes staring defiantly at the angel, but then his gaze wavered and he took a step backward. A look of fear briefly weakened the sharp lines of his face.

“It is not over,” he spat, glaring at Shadlok. “You will pay for this.” And just as suddenly as he’d arrived, he was gone.

Bewildered, William stared at the empty patch of earth where a moment ago the king had been standing. He looked around the clearing, but the fay had vanished.

Shadlok walked toward the angel. He knelt beside the grave and bowed his head. His silver-white hair spilled forward and hung down over his chest. The angel leaned forward slowly and touched him on the forehead. It looked very like the blessing Prior Ardo gave to his monks.

Staring up at the angel, Shadlok started to speak. William did not understand what he was saying, but the angel clearly did. It listened with an intent expression before turning its dark eyes to Jacobus. It stretched out a hand and beckoned to him with a slow curl of its long fingers.

“Help me, boy,” Jacobus said in a harsh whisper, the mask jerking around to face William.

With great reluctance, William crossed the clearing to Master Bone’s side.

“Let me lean on you,” Jacobus said, lifting his arm.

William hesitated, not wanting to touch him. He forced himself not to pull away when Jacobus rested the stump of his hand on his shoulder. Together they walked toward the angel.

Shadlok got to his feet. He moved aside to allow Jacobus to stand in front of the angel. Jacobus leaned more heavily on William, forcing him to stay by his side.

“I beg you to show mercy,” Jacobus said, a break in his voice. “Set aside the curse that has been placed on me. Let me die.”

William stared at Jacobus. So he was not looking for a cure at all; he wanted death.

“I am begging you,” Jacobus said. He held up his arms, and his sleeves fell back, exposing what was left of his hands.

William could not begin to imagine the depths of Master Bone’s despair if all he craved now was to be allowed to die.

“Step away, human,” Shadlok said softly.

William took a few steps backward, until he was standing beside Shadlok.

The angel’s black eyes reflected the sparse snowflakes as it looked down at Jacobus. It lifted a hand and pointed to his mask.

Using what was left of a finger, Jacobus pushed back his hood and pulled down the mask.

William gasped. Master Bone’s face hardly merited the name. Where the nose should have been, there was an open wound, wet and dark. His lips had gone, as had his ears. His teeth were black and his skin blotched with weeping sores. Only his brown eyes looked recognizably human. They were wide and clear and filled with despair. It was a terrible sight, like something from a nightmare, and in that moment, William understood what had brought Jacobus to this clearing to beg for death.

The angel did not show any trace of pity or revulsion. There was just a look of infinite compassion on its calm and beautiful face. It leaned down and laid a hand on Jacobus’s scabbed scalp. Its lips moved soundlessly. Jacobus gave a long, shuddering sigh and sank slowly to the ground. His thin body seemed to fold in on itself as he fell sideways and lay still.

A flurry of snowflakes whirled across the clearing. The angel stepped out of the grave. A wisp of white mist coiled up from the body on the ground. William watched in astonishment as the mist clouded and sharpened, and a man stood there. At first, he was just a pale ghost form, but then colors darkened and details became clearer. The man was tall and lean of build, with dark hair hanging to his shoulders and wide hazel-brown eyes. It was Jacobus Bone, but Jacobus as he had been a long time ago, not the decaying shell he had become. He held up his hands and stared at the long unblemished fingers in wonder, his face shining with fierce joy.

The young Jacobus turned to Shadlok. “Good-bye, my old friend. Our journey together ends here, but I could never have come this far without you.” He looked at William. “And my heartfelt gratitude to you, boy. Without you, the king’s curse could not have been broken.”

With that, Jacobus bowed to the angel, then turned and walked up the slope and away from the Hollow. He disappeared into the forest without looking back.

The snow was falling more heavily now. It settled on the ground and balanced delicately along branches and twigs. William was too lost in awe of the scene before him to notice the cold.

A softly shimmering light flickered over the angel’s body. For a panic-ridden moment William thought it was on fire. He glanced at Shadlok but the fay did not look alarmed. The light grew brighter until it hurt his eyes and he turned away. Then suddenly, the light faded away. It was some moments before his eyes adjusted and he could see the clearing again. The angel had gone.

William knelt down by the grave and picked up the fox cub. He cradled it against his chest, stroking its fur with his thumb. His throat hurt with the effort of not crying. He walked over to the pond and laid the cub gently on the ground. Balancing on a mat of reeds, he reached out to grab the dog fox, to pull it out of the water. His fingers touched wet fur but he couldn’t get a hold on the fox’s body.

“Step aside,” Shadlok said.

William watched as the fay guided the animal’s body to the shore with a branch. When it reached the reeds, Shadlok leaned down and lifted it from the pond. It hung limp and dripping in his arms, and he laid it down beside the cub.

“Why did he do this?” William asked, his voice thick with tears. “Why them? They did nothing wrong.”

“He did it to punish you for helping Bone to die,” Shadlok said, his voice surprisingly gentle.

“I hate him.”

“So do I.” Shadlok put a hand on William’s shoulder in a brief gesture of sympathy.

William gathered all the bodies together beside the foxes. The stag was too big and heavy to move so he carefully straightened its head on its broken neck.

The snow settled on the still-warm creatures. William crouched down beside them and a hot tear trickled down to his chin and dropped onto the ruffled fur of the cub. William closed his eyes. He wanted to say a prayer, but no words came.

A warm breeze touched his face, and startled, he opened his eyes. Something nudged his leg and he looked down to see the fox cub wriggling to its feet. Too amazed to move, William watched as one by one the bodies of the dog fox, the crows, and the smaller birds struggled back to life, broken bones mending, drowned lungs filling with air. There was a snort and a grunt as the stag scrabbled onto its feet. It stood there trembling, its breath clouding around its head, very much alive.

William started to laugh. He gave a whoop of joy, and the stag, startled by the noise, leaped up the slope of the Hollow and back to the safety of the forest.

Quickly and silently, all the animals and fays slipped back to the woods, leaving only their tracks in the snow to show they had ever been there at all.

William and Shadlok faced each other silently for several moments; then Shadlok leaned down and lifted Jacobus’s body onto his shoulders. He set off up the slope, back to the track and the horses. William followed and stopped for a moment when he reached the trees. A light wind sent snow dancing and whirling through the Hollow. Huge soft flakes settled on the ground around the empty grave. William was not sure if it was his imagination, but the atmosphere in the clearing seemed to have changed. It did not feel so hostile. The air felt lighter and fresher, as if the snow-laden wind had blown away the ancient presence lurking there. Pulling his jacket more tightly around his body, William turned and hurried after Shadlok.