The higher I rose, the closer the curved walls pressed in towards me; suddenly I understood exactly what I was seeing. My heart lurched with fear. I was gazing at a great horde of lamia witches, the vaengir.
There were hundreds of them. Each had four limbs, the heavier back ones armed with savage claws; the forelimbs resembling human arms with delicate hands. A pair of black insectile wings were folded across their backs, concealing an inner, lighter pair. After the deluge they were fluttering them in order to dry them. Outside, on the plain, it would soon be dark, and once their wings were dry they'd be able to leave the Ord and venture out of the cloud shield to attack Kalambaka and the monks of Meteora.
I could see the lamias watching me through their heavy-lidded eyes, gaunt-cheeked and restless; they were eager to feed. The rumbling from above grew louder, changing slowly into a grinding and clanking that hurt my eardrums. I looked up. Above me was a huge spindle, which was spinning slowly, hauling up the chains, drawing the metal dishes upwards.
I glanced down at the other vessels and saw that there were human forms sprawled in some of them – whether alive or dead I couldn't tell because they were too far below me. None of them seemed to be moving. Suddenly I understood . . .
We were food for the lamias! Food to give them strength for their flight! The horror of what I faced set my whole body trembling. I was going to be torn to pieces. Slowly, taking deep breaths, I forced my fear to subside. There were other people to think about. Were the Spook, Arkwright and Alice in the same situation as me, being drawn aloft to feed the ravenous lamia hordes?
There was a jerk, and the grinding and rumbling ceased. I looked down again and realized that I was right in the centre of the tower, the highest of about thirty dishes.
Then I felt my dish begin to ascend once more. I glanced at the other dishes below me but they weren't moving; I was leaving them behind. Moments later I passed a large static metal cylinder wrapped with rusty chains, one of the mechanisms by which the other dishes had been lifted. I must be suspended from some different system. Now, above me, I saw something that looked like a boiling black cloud, much like the one above the Ord, but inside it. I flinched away as I drew nearer. It filled me with fear. A moment later I was within it, unable to see my hand in front of my face. The dish came to a halt and I was suspended there for several moments in absolute darkness.
Then the black cloud began to recede, thinning as it did so, and I was able to see my surroundings. I was still within the rusting metal vessel. Below was the yawning void through which I had ascended. I had been drawn up into a small room of black marble; it was no more than a cube, with no doors or windows and only two items of furniture: a large circular mirror on the wall to my left – and a throne.
I began to tremble because I'd seen that throne before, in the spring, before I'd met the maenad assassin, or even heard about the Ordeen. It was the one the Fiend had been sitting in when I'd talked to him on the black barge back in the spring. It was intricately carved: on the left arm was a fierce dragon, its claws lifted aggressively; on the right was a fork-tongued snake, its long body trailing down the side of the throne to coil about the claw-footed leg.
I stepped out of the dish onto the marble floor, looking straight ahead, afraid to glance down at the gulf below. As I did so, a sudden chill ran the length of my spine; a warning that I was in the presence of a dangerous servant of the dark. I knew what was happening because it had happened to me before. I couldn't move. I wasn't even breathing but felt no compulsion to do so. Time had stopped. Stopped for me as well as for my immediate environment. That could mean only one thing. The Fiend . . .
And suddenly there he was, sitting on that ornate throne, once more in the shape of Matthew Gilbert.
'I'm going to show you something now, Tom,' he said, his voice filled with malice. 'The future. What will happen in the next few hours. Only you can stop it. Look into the mirror!'
I felt my heart surge in my chest. I was breathing again but all around me was utter stillness. Although I felt free to move, time was still frozen. Unable to help myself, I did as he commanded and looked at the mirror. Everything grew dark, and for a moment I felt myself falling, but then I was looking down on the metal dishes from somewhere just above, able to see them all, my eyes clearer and sharper than they'd ever been.
Some dishes were filled with blood; others held people. Flesh and blood – it was all food. Food for the lamias. I could see the Spook in one; he wasn't holding his staff and looked old and frail, gazing upwards with terrified, despairing eyes. In another was Alice, gripping the edge of the dish with white knuckles. But Mam wasn't there, and somehow that gave me hope.
No sooner had that thought entered my head than I heard the beating of many wings and the flock of vaengir flew down onto the dishes with outstretched claws. They formed a dark ravenous mass of thrashing wings, obstructing my view, but I heard Alice cry out.
I was helpless, unable to go to her aid. I could do nothing for any of them; not even cover my own ears to block out the awful sound of screams and tearing flesh.
Now the view changed and I was outside the Ord, watching the servants of the Ordeen ride out of the gates. There were thousands of them, scimitars and spears at the ready, their elongated faces fixed with cruel intent. They were all male; of the females there was no sign. Time seemed to speed up, and I saw them approaching Kalambaka, overtaking the warriors who had fled the Ord. These they cut down without mercy or lifted up in order to drink their blood before casting the broken bodies back into the dust. Behind them came the maenad hordes, gorging upon the flesh of the dead and dying.
In the walled town they attacked all those who had been unwilling or unable to flee. Unarmed men and women suffered the same fate. Children, even babies, were torn from their mothers' arms, drained, then dashed against the blood-stained walls. Once again, maenads pounced on the broken bodies and tore at the flesh of the victims. Next I saw the vaengir swoop down upon the monasteries of Meteora; their lofty heights were no protection against such a ferocious aerial attack. I saw bodies fall like broken dolls; the floor of the katholicon ran with blood. No more would hymns soar like angels to fill the dome; no more would the monks' prayers strengthen the light. The Ordeen was now free to emerge anywhere she chose. Now the County too was at risk.
'That is the future, Tom!' cried the Fiend. 'The events I showed you will begin to unfold in just a few moments, beginning with the deaths of your master, Alice and Arkwright. That is, unless you take the necessary steps to prevent it. I can help you. I require something from you, that's all. I simply want you to give me your soul. In return I offer you a chance to destroy your mother's enemy.'