Read Online The Book of Dead Days by Marcus Sedgwick - Free Book Online Page A

Boy?” he asked, though not angrily. “A fair quote from you for once. But do not mention his name here.”
    They had come to the end of the Deadway, and stopped.
    Before them stood a huge pair of ornate bronze gates set into a long, high stone wall. The gates were covered in iron pictures of confusing and frightening design. Human figures, mostly naked, writhed and hung in peculiar postures and agonizing angles from the bars of the gates. Here and there Boy and Willow could see less-than-human figures, but they were not in pain. They grinned demonically and held long sticks or spears, with which they were pricking and piercing the bodies.
    “What is this place?” Willow whispered, but Boy had understood.
    “Look,” he said.
    His voice was deathly. He pointed through the bars of the gates to where, beyond the walls, stretched row after row of cold, gray gravestones.
    Above the gates was an arch, upon which were carved some strange words.
    “What does that say?” Boy asked Valerian quietly.
    “Is your reading still so bad?” Valerian sniped, but merely from habit. There was no life in his voice.
    “But it’s strange,” Boy protested.
    “It’s Latin,” Valerian said, “and it’s high time you learnt some.
Mille habet mors portas quibus exeat vita. Unam inveniam.
It means, more or less, ‘Death has a thousand doors to let out life. I shall find one.’ ”

3
    It was bitterly cold. Boy and Willow were shivering, but not just from the temperature. Row after row of lifeless stones faded away around them into the darkness of the cemetery. They had crept inside through the massive iron gates, which were not locked. They could just make shapes out from the moonlight that slanted low over the wall of the cemetery. The land sloped slightly from where they stood, so that even in the darkness they could see the stones rising away from them. There were thousands, some small and plain, some big, some carved with complex designs. Some were not mere markers at all but impressive tombs made of huge blocks of stone, surrounded by spiked railings. The railings were designed to keep people out, though Boy thought how strange they looked, like cages, as if they were actually meant to keep people
in
.
    “What are we doing here?” Willow whispered.
    Boy shook his head.
    “I don’t know. He’s just got a habit of finding unpleasant places to be.”
    “Boy,” said Willow, “if you don’t ask him, I will.”
    Boy looked at her, wondering if she’d learnt nothing from her recent experience of Valerian’s moods.
    Valerian stood a few paces away, trying to get his bearings in the endless death-field.
    “I mean it,” Willow said.
    “All right!” he said. “All right.”
    Boy approached slowly. Gingerly he tugged at the tall man’s sleeve.
    “Valerian,” he said.
    “Ah! Boy!” Valerian said. “Good. Now, take these.”
    He pulled two candles from his pocket and couple of large matches.
    “There’s not too much wind-we won’t need lamps. I can almost smell it now! This
must
be the one.”
    “Valerian.” Boy was firmer this time.
    Valerian looked down at him distractedly.
    “Yes, Boy, what is it?”
    “What are we doing here?”
    A shadow swept across Valerian’s face, a flicker of rage.
    “I don’t have time to debate it, Boy! Don’t you understand? Time is running out. Today is the twenty-eighth. Don’t you understand?”
    “No, I don’t understand,” shouted Boy, “because you never tell me anything!”
    Valerian clapped his hand across Boy’s mouth and held it there.
    Willow ran over, then stopped, seeing that Boy was not actually being harmed.
    “How many times do I-” Valerian hissed. Willow stared at him. She saw the anger slip from his face.
    “No,” he said quietly, and took his hand from Boy’s mouth. Willow stepped to Boy’s side and held his arm.
    “No,” said Valerian again. “You are right, Boy. I should tell you.”
    Boy looked at him intently, waiting.
    “I will tell you, but