The Prince of Mist (Niebla 1)

16

MAX WAS CYCLING THROUGH THE RAIN WHEN a bright flash of lightning startled him. It revealed the sight of the Orpheus re-emerging from the depths, glowing with a hypnotic light that emanated from her metal frame. Cain’s old ship was once more sailing across the furious waters of the bay. Max pedalled on desperately, afraid that he wouldn’t reach the beach hut in time. He’d left the lighthouse keeper behind – the old man couldn’t possibly keep up with him. When Max reached the edge of the beach, he jumped off his bike and sprinted towards Roland’s hut. He discovered that the door had been torn clean off its hinges. On the shore, he caught sight of the paralysed outline of his friend, standing spellbound as he watched the ghostly ship plough through the waves. Max thanked the heavens and ran over to embrace him.

‘Are you all right?’ he shouted against the howl of wind.

Roland looked back at him, startled, like a wounded animal unable to escape its predator. Max saw in him the childish face that had held the camera in front of the mirror and he shuddered.

‘He’s got Alicia,’ said Roland at last.

Max knew his friend couldn’t really understand what was going on but he felt that trying to explain it would only complicate things.

‘Whatever happens,’ Max shouted, ‘you have to get away from him. Do you hear me? You must get away from Cain!’

Ignoring his words, Roland waded into the sea until the swell reached his waist. Max went after him and tried to pull him back, but Roland, who was stronger, shoved him aside and forged on into the water.

‘Wait!’ shouted Max. ‘You don’t know what’s happening! You’re the one he’s looking for!’

‘I know,’ Roland replied.

Max watched his friend dive into the waves and surface a couple of metres further out, swimming towards the Orpheus. The wiser half of his soul begged him loud and clear to run back to the hut and hide under the bed until everything was over. As usual, Max listened to the other side and threw himself into the waves, quite sure that this time he wouldn’t make it back alive.

*

Cain’s long gloved fingers closed like pincers around Alicia’s wrist. The magician pulled her along the slippery deck of the Orpheus while she struggled frantically to free herself. Cain turned round and, lifting her effortlessly into the air, put his face so close to hers that the girl could see his eyes burning with anger. They changed colour from blue to gold, and his pupils dilated.

‘I’m not going to say this twice.’ The magician’s voice was lifeless, as cold as steel. ‘Keep still or you’ll be sorry. Understood?’

The magician increased the pressure of his fingers. Alicia was afraid that if he didn’t stop he’d pulverise the bones in her wrist as if they were brittle clay. Realising that it was useless to oppose him, she nodded nervously. Cain loosened his grip and smiled. There was no pity or courtesy in that smile, only hatred. He let go of her and Alicia fell to the deck, hitting her forehead on the metal. She touched her skin and felt the sharp stinging sensation of an open wound. Without giving her a moment to recover, Cain grabbed her arm again and dragged her towards the bowels of the ship.

‘Go on,’ the magician ordered, pushing her along a corridor that led from the bridge to the cabins.

The walls were black and covered in rust and a slimy coat of seaweed. Inside, the Orpheus was swimming in muddy water that gave off a noxious smell, and was filled with bits and pieces of debris that swayed with the rocking of the ship on the heavy swell. Cain grabbed Alicia by the hair and opened the door of one of the cabins. A cloud of gas and the stench of stagnant water that had been imprisoned for twenty-five years filled the air. Alicia held her breath. Still clutching her hair, the magician heaved her towards the door.

‘The best suite awaits you, my dear. The captain’s cabin for my guest of honour. Enjoy the company.’

Cain pushed her inside and shut the heavy door. Alicia fell to her knees and felt around behind her, searching for something to cling to. It was almost pitch dark in the cabin: the only light came from a small porthole, which years of being submerged in the sea had covered with a thick, semi-transparent crust of seaweed and rotting remains. The constant rolling of the ship propelled Alicia against the cabin walls and she grabbed hold of a rusty water pipe. It took her eyes a while to adjust to the dim light, and as she struggled not to think about the penetrating odour that filled the place, she examined the cell Cain had reserved for her. There was no other exit save the door the magician had locked when he left. Alicia looked desperately for a metal bar or some other object with which she could try to force the door open, but she couldn’t find anything. As she groped around, her hands touched something that had been leaning against the wall. Alicia took a step back, startled. The unrecognisable remains of the captain of the Orpheus fell at her feet and Alicia suddenly understood who Cain had been referring to when he spoke of her ‘company’. Fate hadn’t dealt the Flying Dutchman a good hand. The roar of the stormy sea drowned out her screams.

For every metre Roland gained in his progress towards the Orpheus, the fury of the sea sucked him underwater and returned him to the surface on the crest of a wave, engulfing him in an eddy of foam. Before him, the ship was also locked in combat, assailed by the walls of water pummelling its hull.

As he neared the ship, the violence of the sea made it more difficult to control the direction in which he was heading and Roland feared that a sudden surge might hurl him against the hull of the Orpheus, rendering him unconscious. If that were to happen, the waters would swallow him down greedily and he would never return to the surface. Roland dived through an enormous wave towering over him and emerged in a valley of murky water as the wave rolled off towards the shore.

The Orpheus loomed less than a dozen metres away, and when he saw the steel hull, tinted with a fiery light, he knew he would be unable to climb up to the deck. The only way in was through the gash the rocks had torn open in the hull twenty-five years before, causing the sinking of the ship. The opening was level with the waterline and appeared and disappeared with every new pounding from the waves. Strips of jagged metal surrounded the gaping hole, making it look like the jaws of some enormous beast. The very idea of entering through such a death trap terrified Roland, but it was his only chance of reaching Alicia. He struggled through the next wave and, once its crest had passed over him, he hurled himself towards the hole, shooting through it into the darkness like a human torpedo.

*

Victor Kray was gasping for breath as he walked along the path that led through the wild grass down to the bay. The rain and strong wind slowed him down, like invisible hands determined to hold him back. When at last he reached the beach, he saw the Orpheus in the middle of the bay swathed in spectral light. It was heading in a straight line towards the cliff. The prow of the ship plunged through the waves, the water sweeping over its deck, raising a cloud of white foam with each new shudder of the ocean. A veil of despair fell over him: his worst fears had come true and he had failed; his mind had been weakened by the passing years and, once again, the Prince of Mist had tricked him. Now, all he asked was that it wasn’t too late to save Roland. At that moment Victor Kray would happily have offered his own life if it provided Roland with even the slenderest possibility of escape. And yet he had a dark premonition that perhaps he’d already failed in the promise he had once made to the boy’s mother.

Victor Kray walked towards Roland’s hut in the vain hope of finding him there. There was no sign of Max or of the girl, and the sight of the front door lying on the beach seemed to confirm his worst fears. Then, suddenly, he felt a glimmer of hope when he realised there was light inside the beach hut. He rushed towards it, calling out Roland’s name. The figure of a knife thrower, carved from pale stone yet alive, came out of the shadows to greet him.

‘It’s a bit late to start

having regrets now, Granddad,’ said the figure, and the old man recognised Cain’s voice.

Victor Kray took a step back, but there was someone behind him, and before he was able to react, he felt a blow to the back of his neck. Darkness fell.

*

Max saw Roland enter the hull of the Orpheus through the breach and realised he was losing strength with each new wave. He could not compare to Roland as a swimmer and knew that he’d be unable to stay afloat much longer in the storm unless he could find some way of getting on board the ship. On the other hand, the certainty that great danger awaited them in the bowels of the vessel grew with every passing minute and Max realised that the magician was drawing them into his lair like bees to honey.