Mark Chadbourn - The Silver Skull

Each lunge came closer, and at the last Will ran, placed one foot on the wall of the pit, and propelled himself onto the bear's back, clutching an arm around its throat. The bear's roar was deafening as it attempted to swat him off. Writhing on its back, he ducked this way and that as the claws came within a hairbreadth of his face. But with each twist, he exerted more pressure on the bear's throat until its swats became feebler and it began to stumble. Finally, it fell to all fours and Will rolled off its back.

Don Alanzo levelled an unsettled stare at him. "You are insane."

"We only know we live when our heart beats faster," Will gasped. "Now, I think we are done here. Shall we be away?"

Before the bear had recovered, Will cupped his hands for lion Alanzo to propel himself to the top of the central pole. Half slipping, he steadied himself on the top and then leapt to the edge of the pit. Two of Pickering's men rushed him, but he ducked beneath their grasping hands, turned, and thrust both of them into the pit. As they shrieked in terror, he reached an arm down and hauled Will to safety.

In their brief glance was a mutual admission that the truce was over, and as Will turned to his men, lion Alanzo disappeared into the melee. Three of Pickering's men came at Will with cudgels and daggers. As they neared, confident in their numbers, Will activated the sheath Dee had given him. The blade burst out of its hidden compartment along his forearm, and with one fluid swing he slashed the throat of the first man and planted the knife edge into the heart of the next. Startled, the third man fell before an elbow rammed into his face.

The crowd roared its anger. Bounding to his men, Will slashed the restraining ropes. As they quickly freed themselves and turned to fight, Will fought his way through the crowd to where Pickering was rapidly disappearing into the throng. Before he gave pursuit, Will put his weight against the long table and heaved one end into the pit. The bear hesitated for only a second, and then launched itself up the table.

Chaos erupted across the fair as the bear crashed over the edge of the pit and into the crowd. The screams and shrieks were drowned out by roars as it tore through flesh and bone.

With grim determination, Will rammed his way through the fleeing people, throwing bodies right and left. Two conflicting targets fought for his attention: the Silver Skull and Grace, both of whom had been standing behind Pickering, held tight by his men. Now they were both lost in the swell.

In the confusion, stalls were overturned, their owners fighting furiously with their former customers. Shattered lanterns sent flames leaping to canvas and wood and then up into a blazing column that only added to the panic; in the city, fire was the greatest threat.

Through the whirling bodies, Will glimpsed a gleam of silver bobbing towards the other side of the courtyard. As he neared, he saw Don Alanzo leading the Silver Skull through the throng towards one of the alleys heading off the courtyard. Will cuffed a wild-eyed drunk who stumbled into his path and tossed him onto a stall, but Don Alanzo had now been lost to the torrent of people.

Above the hubbub, Pickering's barking orders rolled out. His men drew their attention from the bear, the fires, and the fights towards lion Alanzo, and Will.

Troubled that he could no longer see Grace, Will redoubled his efforts to break through the flow. When he finally emerged from the crowd, he caught a fleeting glimpse of lion Alanzo and the Silver Skull disappearing into the maze of alleys, but the cry of "Clubs!" was already rising up from Pickering's men as they surged towards him.

Will sprinted across the cobbles, but he had not got far when the chilling howl of a hunting dog echoed over Alsatia.

The Hunter was close and drawing closer.

CHAPTER 16

,ith her hood pulled low to hide her face, Grace sheltered behind the wreckage of a stall from the yelling crowd of cutthroats and customers washing back and forth between fire and the rampaging bear. Knots of Pickering's men beat paths through the mass. Certain they were searching for her, Grace regretted foolishly calling out Will's name; now Pickering would try to use her to control Will.

With frenzied roars, the lunging bear was surrounded by several men with staffs. Shrill screams echoed as raking claws tore one open from throat to groin, but within a minute the others forced the beast over the edge and back into the pit. A cheer went up, and as the bear's rage subsided, the panic receded. Grace knew she had to secure her escape while there was still some tumult to obscure her passing.

Keeping low, she edged around the stall until she glimpsed a path to one of the four alleys leading off the courtyard. Before she could move, a heavy hand fell on her shoulder.

Her startled cry was stifled by a hand over her mouth, and her head turned to reveal Miller's kind face. Grace recognised him instantly as one of the men who had been held prisoner alongside Will.

"Mistress, we must get you out of this danger," he said.

"Please," she begged, "Will is in great danger. You must help him."

"Will can take care of himself."

"No," she pressed. "I saw him in pursuit of Don Alanzo. The Spaniard will lead him into a trap-the Don has other allies in London. And the King of Cutpurses has dispatched his murderous crew on Will's heels. You must help him!"

Grace's pitiful expression moved Miller. "Very well. But stay here. I will fetch the others to help you-"

"Go!" she interrupted. "I will call if I need them."

With a nod, Miller threw his great frame in the direction Grace indicated. Glancing around, Grace spied Launceston, Mayhew, and Carpenter, who had now claimed cudgels and knives and were carving a path through Pickering's men with cold efficiency. They were too occupied to help her.

Determination blazed inside her. She would not be beaten down, nor afraid. Jenny's death had convinced her that life was hard, and easily cut short, and that living in fear only diminished it further. Setting her jaw, she waited for the path to the alley to clear again, and then leapt from her hiding place and ran.

Few women were there, and most of them were doxies or members of the criminal gang, but she moved swiftly without drawing attention to herself. For a while she was caught up in a hectic attempt to put out the blazes, but eventually the alley appeared in reach. Yet as her heart beat faster in anticipation, in the corner of her eye she caught sight of a bird mask fixed upon her, and for the briefest moment, she was caught in Pickering's unblinking stare. With no men close to hand, Pickering gave pursuit himself. Barging through the crowd, he closed the gap so quickly Grace knew that even if she reached the alley, he would be upon her soon after.

The clatter of his hobnails upon the cobbles rang at her back. With her breath burning in her chest, she slipped into the dark of the alley and only when her eyes adjusted did she realise it was occupied. Her startled cry faded at a familiar face.

"Kit!" she cried. "And Nathaniel!"

With a small group of the queen's men at their backs, Marlowe and Nathaniel advanced on the courtyard. Marlowe had his sword drawn, but Grace fell into his arms in relief.

"Thank God," she gasped. Glancing back, she saw Pickering come to a halt when he saw the new arrivals, and then turn and rush back into the crowd.

"Nat urged me to bring help when Will did not return by the appointed hour," Marlowe said. He turned to the men. "Seal off this courtyard. Let no man escape, for we will have an army of rogues at our back if word gets out that we are here."