“Head to the springs then turn east. The oldest paths should lead you to the centre of the labyrinth. I would guess that she is there. Beware the darkness inside, it will try to lead you astray. I do not think there areshadowbittenstill within the bounds, but I cannot guarantee it.”
He picked up Belis’s spear from where it was leaning against the pavilion and handed it to her, then passed me her shortsword.
“You can cut them down long enough to run for it and lose them in the maze. Try not to lose yourselves.”
I nodded and set my shoulders. We had done so well against the thorns the day before, pitting our will against the corruption. I felt confident we could be proof against it again.
We bade farewell to him and set off down the hill. An arch of rough stone reared up before us. The positioning of each rock seemed fragile, almost tentative, but the moss covering the western edges hinted at the great age of the structure.
Inside the woods seemed no different than before. The trees were still ancient, old and twisting against each other. The sunlight that spotted through the leaves was pale, dappling Belis’s skin as she headed into the heart of the springs. Her hair was beginning to escape from its plaits, the strands shaking free like tongues of fire. No, it was fire, lapping at the nape of her neck, as if to burn the pale skin.
I shook my head and hurried to catch up with her. My thoughts were not entirely my own. Belis looked over at me and on an impulse I grabbed her hand, needing the comfort. She started slightly but didn’t pull free and a moment later she started walking again.
The temperature in the forest was increasing now, the cool of the early morning growing into a damp heat that began to drop beads of moisture along my forehead and down my spine. My hand in Belis’s grew slippery and I had to blink sweat from my eyelashes.
I could tell we were getting close to the springs, the ground underfoot getting steadily muddier, sucking at my boots with every squelching pace. The humidity had blossomed into a white mist, thickening with every blink until I could no longer see Belis, only feel her hand in mine and hear the quickening of her breath.
With a splash I stepped into warm water, swirling up to my ankles. Belis stopped, yanking her foot back from the mud.
“Don’t panic,” I said. I was whispering but the fog seemed to magnify my voice so that the words echoed. “Keep walking, head east.”
She squeezed my hand and moved forward. I followed, not wanting to lose her to the mist. The water deepened and soon we were wading up to our thighs. It grew hotter as we splashed onwards, the mist forcing itself down my throat, pressing down on my chest with each breath. Beside me I could hear Belis panting, but she kept her grip on my hand even when she tripped into the water and surfaced spluttering. I helped her to her feet, still blinded by the mist.
“The spring floor drops off,” she murmured. “I think this is as far as we can go.”
A sound came from behind us and I whipped around. A girl was wading towards us; she looked about six or seven, I thought. Her long coppery hair trailed in the water. She seemed familiar to me and I tried to place where I had seen her before. Belis gasped and turned as pale as the mist.
“Cati!”
I looked back at the girl, recognising her now. She looked ten years younger than when I had last seen her, but the lines of the adult she had become were present in her face. She stared up at Belis with pale, unseeing grey-green eyes.
“Cati.” Belis went as if to throw herself towards her sister. I grabbed at her wrist, trying to hold her back. She almost pulled me over but I jammed my heels into the mud.
“It’s not real, it’s an illusion,” I shouted at her, trying to break her concentration. She kept moving and in a panic I dug my nails into her arm. “Belis, please, look at me!”
Belis froze, glanced at me then back at the girl. She shut her eyes, and an expression of terrible grief passed over her face. Then she opened them again and looked down.
“It’s not her?” she whispered. I shook my head.
“Her soul is trapped at the gates. Arawn wouldn’t have allowed it in till her body died and if that had happened he would have told us. It’s just a trick.” I waved my hand through the girl’s shape, passing through it like the mist it had sprung from.
The un-Cati smiled and beckoned us further in. Belis hesitated then yanked us both away. “This will get worse before it gets better,” she muttered. I grimaced.
“I’m sorry. You knew this would not be an easy task,” I said. She nodded. I watched her as she traced the branch where the image of her sister had vanished. Then she squared her shoulders and turned back to the path.
After an hour of walking the path before us split, offering no obvious direction to take. We halted, gazing first one way, then the other. I considered suggesting that we split up to try andcover more ground but dismissed the idea. We would do better to stick together. I was about to say that we should just pick the right-hand path when a flash of bronze caught my eye.
About thirty yards down the left path, sitting high in the branches of an elder tree, was a huge bird. I narrowed my eyes. It was enormous, perhaps a yard from beak to tailfeather, with rust-brown wings tucked back as it glared down at the path, amber eyes searching for prey. For a moment I thought it was a creature of the shadow but it seemed so vibrant. I remembered what Arawn had said about the birds, that the witch we were looking for had cared for them. Perhaps this eagle was a sign.
I nudged Belis and pointed towards the eagle. She didn’t respond. I elbowed her in the side, keeping my eyes fixed on the bird. Still nothing. Exasperated, I turned to hiss in her ear.
Her eyes were locked on the right-hand path and it took me no more than a moment to understand why. Her mother was standing at the edge of the woods, barefoot and bareheaded. In this facsimile of life, Boudica was terrible and wonderful to behold, her dark eyebrows furrowed as she looked down at her daughter. She stretched out a hand to Belis, inviting her closer.
“Is she real?” Belis murmured to me. “Is that really her?”
I looked at the ghost of the last queen of the Iceni, her long red hair blowing gently in the wind. I wanted to lie, to say it was only a dream, only a trick of the shadow.
“I don’t know,” I said. “It could be, but, Belis, if you go to her now that’ll be it. We’ll never find this witch, we’ll lose your sister, lose everything. If you go to her now you’ll never leave.”
