by Mark Hayden
‘I do,’ said Helen. ‘My Dad worked at the plant in Port Talbot. Not that it’s relevant.’
‘Back to Aristotle…’
‘Aye. Basically, it’s all in the head. If you think in terms of Air and Fire, and you’ve got the Gift, the magick works. Most Circles outside the Invisible College still teach that way, am I right, Helen?’
‘That’s how I learnt. It was a long time ago, mind.’
‘It gets more complicated at postgraduate level, and that’s one reason I joined the King’s Watch – I couldn’t be bothered to get me head round the way the flow of Lux can be used to affect any other force – electromagnetic, strong, weak. Gravity, too, according to some. Never seen it meself. Anyway, it’s mostly electromagnetic. A good Mage, no matter how they learnt their magick, can use Lux as a…’ she waved her hands a bit. ‘… As a meta-force. Make opposites repel, change polarities. That sort of thing.’
‘Wow,’ said Helen. ‘Is that really what they teach in Satan’s House? Oops, ohmigod, I’m sorry. I didn’t mean it.’
‘Eh?’ That was me.
Vicky went red. In the rearview mirror, I could see that Helen was even redder.
‘Conrad’s never heard that before,’ said Vicky. ‘It’s what the Circles, especially the separatist ones, call Salomon’s House. The radical protestants used to call it that, too, before they signed up.’
‘Oh.’
The road dipped, we entered the Swansea Valley, and I pointed to a brown sign which said National Showcaves / Dan-yr-Ogof, 10m. It had a picture of a cup and saucer, too. ‘Coffee. Map. Plan.’
‘And fag,’ added Vicky.
‘If you insist.’
‘Why are we doing this outside?’ said Vicky, with a noticeable shiver.
‘I thought you Geordie lasses were immune to the cold.’ No, not me. That was Helen. Vicky gave her a dark look.
‘I think we’re done with the plotting,’ I said, folding the map. ‘We can finish our coffee inside, and I rather fancy one of those scones. Might be a long time before lunch. Could you do the honours, Vic?’
She held out her hand. Mutinously.
Helen had already taken the temperature of our working relationship, and instead of offering to pay herself, burst out laughing. I gave Vicky a twenty pound note and retreated to the lee of the visitor centre where I could smoke in peace.
I’d taken a quick look at the information display inside when we arrived, and had discovered that the caves were mostly in a strip of limestone that ran east-west on either side of the river Tawe. Assiduous Welsh cavers had mapped and tracked all the interesting ones, which left us looking for somewhere quiet, off the beaten track and which might have a cave. I’d noticed that the main road turned away from the valley, towards Brecon, leaving a tiny road to follow the river. I reckoned that we should start there, and as soon as we’d refreshed ourselves, that’s exactly what we did.
In the lull before action, we discovered that Helen was married to a drummer turned plumber and had two children. The older, a boy, had neither Gift nor any form of intelligence whatsoever (according to his mother). In his defence, he was the one picking up her car from Dragon Timber, and also the one whose Youtube channel had paid for their last holiday. Her daughter was nine, and her potential for magick unknown. The whole family were nominally Druids.
Helen was about to explain what her useless layabout son got up to all day when I decided that the clouds coming over the hill were getting a little too dark, and ushered everyone back to the Mercedes.
We all got a bit nervous when we strapped ourselves into the car, though none of us wanted to show it. Vicky had her rugged tablet on her lap, and I passed the map to Helen, more to give her something to do than anything else. We passed a car park and sign to the Beacons Way long distance footpath. I knew exactly where it led, but asked the women anyway.
‘Over the hills and far away,’ said Helen.
‘Avoids the Tawe Valley and climbs quickly,’ added Vicky.
‘Besides, our lorry driving friend didn’t get his rig up there,’ concluded Helen.
I drove on another quarter of a mile and took the left turn, leaving the A4067 behind. Away from the junction, the new road quickly became a lane, just big enough to fit the milk tanker.
‘Losing signal,’ said Vicky. ‘And I don’t think we’ll get it back while we’re in the valley.’
‘Damn.’ I drove another hundred metres and started to turn around in a field gateway.
‘What are you doing?’ said Helen.
When the car was pointing the right way, I twisted round to face the back. ‘I’m going back to the main road and dropping you off.’ Her face told me this was not being received well. ‘Sorry, Helen, but I’ve got no choice. We need someone back there to update Rick James, and to keep an eye on traffic going up and down this lane.’
‘You’re just getting rid of me.’
‘Up to a point, yes. You haven’t got the gear for being outside in this storm. Be honest, Helen, do you even wear a Persona?’
‘I… No. I don’t. It would be too much to wear all the time, and I don’t deal with magickal criminals. That’s what we have the King’s Watch for.’ She thumbed the well-padded door handle. ‘You’re right, you’re right. Take me back.’
‘You should get a car brought up to you,’ said Vicky. ‘There’s nowhere to shelter down there. You might have an hour before the rain comes.’
I drove down to the junction, discovered that the Mercedes’ turning circle was bigger than a Hercules Transport, and finally came to rest. A last thought struck me as Helen said her goodbyes. I slipped out and tried to open the boot while she wasn’t looking, but DS Davies is too good a copper.
I picked up my spare waterproof to give her, and found her looking over my shoulder.
‘The last time I saw so many weapons in a car, we’d just busted the biggest drugs ring in Swansea. Why, Conrad? Why?’
The Hammer was at the side. I picked it up, showed her the Badge of Office and said, ‘It’s because they won’t let me carry magickal rounds. Yet. And because people keep trying to kill me. If you know the Druid rep on the Occult Council, tell them to vote to arm the Watch. On St David’s Day. Here. You can have this.’
Her own coat was good enough for winter in the city, but wouldn’t last five minutes in a storm. She accepted my offer, and fiddled with the neoprene shoulder belt that held her police issue kit. From under her arm, she extracted a bright yellow plastic pistol – the X26 Taser. ‘I’ll do you a swap,’ she said. ‘This is totally non-magickal and dead easy to use. Just click off the safety and fire.’
Why hadn’t I thought of a Taser?
‘Are you sure? I promise not to use it unless I have to.’
‘Go on. Hop it, Conrad. I’ll be here.’
‘Thanks.’
Having seen the narrowness of the road, I got Vicky to drive. Half a mile up, we passed a farm, and the hedges closed in even further. I told her to stop.
‘Why? There’s nothing here, man.’
‘Bear with me.’
I took a good look at the verges on both sides. The delivery of logs had been made last summer, just before the end of the growing season, and there would have been lots of heavy plant to move out afterwards (assuming it was hired). Sure enough, although the winter had filled it in a little, there was lots of scarring from HGV wheels.
We were still close to the river, but I could see the road climbing ahead, hedges soon to be replaced by stone walls. At that moment, Haley drew a curtain over the sun. The leading edge of the storm would be with us very shortly. I got back into the car and said, ‘We’re definitely on the right road, and not too much further. Still no signal?’
She checked her tablet. ‘No.’
‘Then take it as slow as you can.’
She put the car in Drive and took her foot off the accelerator. We moved forward at a steady 4mph, both of us opening our Sight.
‘There,’ we chorused to each othe
r
‘Gotcha,’ added Vicky, pointing to the left. The road curved right, quite sharply, and a chevron sign was placed to point this out.
The sign was an illusion, and the road actually divided, carrying straight on as well as bending right. Ahead, it became a track heading down to the valley.
‘Let me get out, then shove the car in the hedge and let’s take a look.’
Vicky took me literally, destroying half a hawthorn bush and ruining the Mercedes’ paintwork. There was just enough room for another vehicle to get past, not that we’d seen a single one. I took the map and stood just outside the magick.
‘Someone’s been planning something for an awfully long time,’ I said. ‘You can use Occulting to change the Internet, but this map is at least ten years’ old. See? There’s nothing here, no tracks, no buildings, no abandoned workings. Nothing.’
Vicky examined the map. She examined it again when I pointed out where we were (she’d been looking at the wrong place).
‘Wards?’
‘None. Not here,’ she said. ‘This is a very effective Glamour because it fits with the road. I’m guessing the real action is away from here, which would make a Ward too difficult to sustain.’ She looked hopefully back at the car. ‘We’re not going to walk, are we?’
‘Not yet. If nothing else, I want to be equipped for a quick getaway. That’s assuming our transport can actually go off-road. I’ll drive from here.’ I paused to look over the valley. Most of it was wooded near the river, and there were no buildings in sight. ‘This is an awfully big target, Vicky, and I somehow get the feeling we’re missing the big picture.’
‘Isn’t a Dragon a big enough picture for you?’
‘You’re probably right.’
The Mercedes nosed through the Glamour with a tingle, and we were suddenly invisible to anyone coming behind. I crossed a cattle grid into an open pasture, then alarmed Vicky by driving off the track and sweeping round. ‘I’m going to reverse. All the way to the target, if necessary.’
Long-distance reversing is a knack. The first rule is never look over your shoulder – that’s what wing mirrors are for, and the Mercedes came with a pair of TV sized beauties. After two hundred metres, the track swung west, down the hill and into a wood.
‘I hope there’s a bridge in there,’ said Vicky.
‘There will be.’
And there was. There was also another Glamour, hiding the bridge and making the river Tawe look twice as wide as it really was. ‘No Ward?’
‘No.’
I nodded. ‘We’ll risk another quarter of a mile, then head back. That should give us a small enough target to deploy the troops when they get here.’
Beyond the bridge, the track twisted a couple of times, then opened out at the edge of the wood. I stopped the car, pulling it slightly off the track. ‘On foot from here. I think there might be buildings ahead.’
The trees had been sheltering us from the first raindrops. By the time I’d opened the boot to get my rucksack, we were pulling up our hoods and grabbing our waterproof trousers. It was going to get dark very early in the valleys today. At least no one would have heard us coming.
We moved apart and walked slowly to the edge of the trees. There was a ruined cottage on the right, a stream on the left, and behind the cottage was a green Volkswagen Golf. I touched Vicky’s arm and pointed. ‘Look familiar?’
‘No. Should it?’
‘I reckon it belongs to Myfanwy. It was parked outside the Old Chapel when we met with Harry Evans. When we came out, it had gone.’
Now that we could see beyond the wood, I cast my eyes around. The stream had cut a large but shallow cleft in the hills, and the road disappeared ahead. It was definitely wide enough for a delivery of logs.
‘Hey, Conrad. There’s something moving in the car.’
‘Eh?’ I peered at the vehicle. Vicky was right. In the front seat was a figure. I couldn’t make out any face, but it was rocking and shaking. The passenger window was open a crack, and the figure was on that side. ‘I think we need to take a look,’ I said. ‘You go round the back of the old cottage, I’ll go up the front. If you see anything suspicious, shout loudly and run for the car.’
‘Right.’
I gave her a few seconds to move off, then approached the car, keeping close to the ruined cottage, scuttling under windows (as much as I could scuttle with my leg), and jumping past the gaping door.
As I got closer to the car, I could see that the figure in the passenger seat was humanoid, and had a hood over its head. The rocking motion appeared to be an attempt to get the hood off by rubbing it on the central pillar. I saw the whole thing as a dumb-show, because the rain was bouncing off the roof, the road and every flat surface in sight.
Vicky appeared from round the back. I motioned her to take the driver’s door, and moved round to the passenger side. It was only when I saw the hands, tied and bound, that I realised what what was happening.
‘Vicky! It’s a goat! Run!’
Maybe it wasn’t the best choice of warning. Vicky looked up, frightened but not understanding that this person had been tied up to lure us into a tiger trap, just like the goats in India. Before I could shout Trap! she was was blindsided by a blur of movement, like a lorry hitting a pedestrian. She didn’t even have time to scream before she hit the dirt.
I backed away from the car and the building, trying to get a sight of Vicky without getting too close. I heard a scream over the rain, then I saw what had flown out of the cottage and smacked into her: a man.
Vicky was face down in the mud. From her back rose a mad vision in blue. Rhein, son of Iorwen, had painted sigils all over his body with woad, the ancient blue dye, but these weren’t just body art, they were Runes and Charms. His chest was crossed by an X-shaped leather harness but was otherwise bare. The twenty-first century intruded itself below his waist, with black running tights and fell-running shoes.
All that I saw in a glance, then I looked at his hands. The right was empty, the left was wrapped in some sort of cloth, and from his fingers dangled the chain from Vicky’s neck. He had knocked her down and taken all her magickal Artefacts. I did the only thing I could do: I ran like fuck.
24 — A Tasting Menu
Why did I run? Because my only usable weapon was in the Mercedes, because I didn’t have my Ancile active, because I was exposed in the open and above all because Vicky was still alive. It would have been far easier for Rhein to have killed her, but he’d chosen to capture her, and he’d chosen her not me. I’d have attacked me first. I looked over my shoulder. He wasn’t following. Yet.
I reached the car and grabbed the machete and the large torch, leaving the Taser in my pocket for now. I didn’t bother with the AK47. The only other thing I needed was the black balaclava.
I activated my Ancile, then worked round through the trees to approach the cottage from a different angle. This time I really did scuttle, keeping low and checking the building constantly. When the corner of the car appeared in view, I dropped to a crawl. I needn’t have bothered.
From around the corner, Rhein pushed Vicky, her hands bound behind her. He was prodding her in the shoulder blades with a spear. A spear! In Odin’s name, what the fuck is he doing with a spear? There was also a round shield on his left arm that practically glowed with Lux.
‘Come out, Clarke!’ he shouted. To add to his message, he prodded Vicky again. She jerked forwards and fell. Her back shone white where the spear had ripped through her waterproofs, and I could make out red lines. The bastard had already cut her.
I stood up, showing myself clearly, and walked slowly towards them. Rhein stopped prodding Vicky with the spear (which was why I’d shown myself), but he kicked her down with his foot when she tried to stand up. From the way she looked around, Rhein had put a Silence on her, a fact that became clear when she saw me approaching and screamed something, her mouth moving but the words disappearing into the magick around her. I came to a stop with six metres between u
s. I peeled back the balaclava so that he could see my face clearly.
‘Put down the machete and unhook your Artefacts,’ said Rhein. ‘Then lie face down.’ His voice was as lyrical and powerful as his body. It was a good job that Vicky couldn’t see and hear him or she’d have fallen down in a swoon at his feet. Even I was a little bit in awe.
‘No.’
That threw him. He curled his lip and prodded the spear toward, but not into, Vicky. ‘Do it.’
‘No. You were under orders to capture her, and until Mummy turns up, you won’t kill her. Let’s wait until the grown-ups arrive, then we can have an adult conversation.’
Rhein was about twenty-one, we’d thought. He had a confidence that was born of power, self-belief and hard training: this boy was faster, stronger and fitter than I’d ever been in my life. He was also still a boy, and my jibe about waiting for Mummy had struck a nerve.
He bared his teeth in feral anger. A real psychopath, no matter what their orders, would take this opportunity to torture Vicky. Rhein didn’t. I clung on to that thought.
‘Who’s in the car?’ I asked.
He rested the end of the spear on the ground, and I noticed that there was mud on his trousers, and that it wasn’t being washed away by the rain: a Charm to keep you dry. Very useful in Wales.
‘I think we’ll wait,’ he said. Score one for the boy.
‘Look, Rhein,’ I said. ‘No one’s died here. Yet. The cavalry aren’t round the corner, but they’re on their way. They know where we’ve been looking, and I hate to say this, but the Druids won’t help you. You’re already Anathema in Newport, and soon every Druid in Wales will turn their back on you, and a lot of them will want to join the hunt.’
I’d hoped for fear. Instead, I got anger. ‘You’ll both pay for this,’ he said. ‘We’ll deal with the Council afterwards.’
I saw rather than heard the others approaching. The wind and rain absorbed the sounds of vehicles, but their headlights cut through the storm-dark valley as they approached. Three quad bikes led the charge, followed by a Range Rover Sport. The car stopped behind the cottage. The bikes swept across the grass and drew up next to the Volkswagen behind Rhein and Vicky.