‘The enemy shouldn’t have reached here yet.’
Samantha was right, but Hal didn’t want to frighten her by replying: none of the zombie-like troops were crossing the adjoining land; the Lords were alone, which suggested to Hal that they were there for a purpose — and the purpose was him. Was it because they somehow knew he was a Brother of Dragons and they were determined to eradicate the main line of defence? Was that possible? If so, he was in more danger than he’d ever anticipated.
Hal noticed something else that was just as disturbing. The lines of Blue Fire burning along the ground warped wherever they came into contact with the approaching enemy, like opposing polarities of a magnet. In the distance, the lines had already disappeared and the snowy night landscape had returned to normal, as if the energy had been cancelled out somehow.
‘Don’t worry. We’ll be out of here in no time,’ Hal said. But as they skidded across the polished floor to the front of the house, Hal realised the lie in his words. Two more lieutenants were approaching — the Lord of Lizards, green and scaly against the snowy background, and the Lord of Bones, a rictus grin adding a macabre touch to its hideous appearance.
‘Oh.’ Samantha’s voice was small and fragile, but devastating to Hal with its awareness of the grim reality they both faced.
‘Don’t worry,’ he said desperately. ‘Don’t worry.’
With Samantha clutching his hand, he raced down a dark corridor off the hall and turned into the library. Ancient books untouched in decades lined the walls beneath an ornate plasterwork ceiling. The windows, though, were barred and Hal quickly pulled Samantha out of the room and back to the hall. The Lord of Flesh was on the veranda at the garden doors and the Lord of Bones was ascending the steps at the front.
‘OK, OK. I know what I’m doing,’ Hal said, as much to reassure himself as Samantha. All the windows on the ground floor would be barred, but not necessarily the ones upstairs. But he was gambling with their lives: if he was wrong, they would be trapped on the first floor until the four Lords came for them.
He had no other choice. He dragged Samantha towards the main hall staircase and they took the steps two at a time.
‘I’m sorry I got you into this,’ Hal said when they reached the first floor. ‘I shouldn’t have brought you.’
‘I decided to come,’ Samantha said. ‘And don’t give up yet.’ Despite her bravado, though, she couldn’t disguise the tremor of fear in her voice.
They ran into a room off the upstairs hall and Hal managed to wrench a window open. A blast of freezing air rushed in, followed by a loud crashing as the doors downstairs were rent apart. They stepped out on to the roof of the columned porch, beyond which was a long drop to the hard forecourt below. Hal headed to his left where there was a short jump to another flat area of roof on the wing, but Samantha held back.
‘I can’t do it,’ she said. ‘I’m no good with heights.’
‘You’re no good with getting torn apart by monsters, either,’ Hal urged. ‘You’ve got to, Samantha. Hold my hand — we’ll do it together.’
Reluctantly, Samantha took his hand. Hal was surprised she’d obeyed him. Her limbs were taut and Hal was afraid she’d freeze up at the jump and drag them both over the edge. At the last moment he gave her a hard yank that propelled her into the air. They sprawled together on the flat roof, winded.
In a second, Hal was up, his heart thundering so loudly that it almost drowned out the noise of terrible damage being done that was emanating from the mansion house. From the flat roof they could climb on to a pitched roof at the end of the wing. It was slick with snow and ice and after only a few feet Hal found himself slithering with increasing speed towards the drop. Samantha screamed. Hal spread his hands out in a bid to create some traction and grabbed the edge of a broken tile that cut deeply into his fingers. The pain as the blood bubbled out helped him to clear the fear from his mind. Cautiously, he spread-eagled his body and edged along the roof, stopping every time he felt himself begin to slip. Above him, Samantha followed suit.
It seemed to take an age to reach the end of the roof. His muscles burning, Hal located a drainpipe and with some difficulty slithered down it. When he reached the bottom he looked up; Samantha was hesitating.
‘Hal, I don’t think I can…’ she began.
‘You made the jump, you can do this,’ Hal hissed.
‘I can’t.’ She looked around nervously as the noise from the house grew even more intense; it sounded as if the place was being wrecked.
‘You have to.’ Hal thought for a moment, then said, ‘What would Hunter say if he saw you dithering up there? He wouldn’t let you live it down.’
Samantha teetered on the brink before determination crept into her face. Hesitantly, she lowered herself on to the drainpipe and began to climb down. Hal’s relief was short-lived: halfway down the drainpipe she began to lose her grip, and a second later she was falling. Hal threw himself forward just in time. The impact knocked him to the ground and stunned him for a second. But then Samantha was helping him to his feet and thanking him profusely between sobs.
The wide-open plain stretched away from the house to the trees and the lane leading out of the estate. The thick snow would make it hard going, but Hal guessed they would probably be able to move faster than their pursuers.
‘Let me go on ahead to check there’s nothing waiting for us. Then get set to run,’ Hal whispered. Before Samantha could reply, he was running low across the thick snow. He reached a fence at the side of a now-buried road and scanned in all directions, but saw nothing. Large snowflakes began to drift down: a new storm was on its way.
Just as Hal had decided that the way was clear, Samantha cried out. Scrambling back towards the house, he found her kicking and screaming in the grip of the Lord of Birds, who had just emerged from around the side of the mansion house. Thoughts burst through Hal’s confusion and desperation: why hadn’t he checked that they were all inside the building? And what was he going to do now?
The Lord of Birds effortlessly pulled Samantha in closer. She shrieked in pain as pecking beaks erupted from the confusion of the Lord’s form to tear her flesh. Blood splattered on the virginal snow beneath where she struggled.
It was that final sight that cleared Hal’s mind to a dull white noise. Acting purely on instinct, he threw himself against the Lord’s bulk in an attempt to unbalance it. The sensation of the feathers and beaks roiling against him was sickening, but he managed to grab hold of Samantha’s wrist and pull her hand free of the Lord’s grip.
A second later, Samantha dropped to the snow, and it was only when the Lord of Birds grabbed him with its feathery hands that Hal realised that Samantha was superfluous: Hal had been the real target.
Hal craned his neck around as the Lord of Birds pulled him in. Samantha was sprawled in the snow, dazed and trying to catch her breath. ‘Run!’ he yelled. ‘Get back to the village! Don’t wait for me!’ Samantha began to argue, but Hal yelled so furiously that she jumped to her feet and set off across the snow as fast as she could go.
Pain burst all over Hal’s body as the birds pecked at him with a terrifying savagery. As the Lord wrapped its arms around Hal, its aim became apparent: Hal would be pulled into the seething morass and consumed.
Blood splashed into his eyes from the beak of a ferocious thrush that was tearing at his cheek. His midriff was growing wet and warm, now numb from repeated attacks. He attempted to get some leverage so that he could prise himself free, but the Lord of Birds was too strong and its form too shifting for Hal to get a foothold. There was nothing he could do.
As he forced his head back to protect his eyes, a single thought came into his head like a clarion call. With difficulty, he wriggled one bloody hand through flapping wings and into his pocket. The Bloodeye met his fingers like an old friend, all the hidden memories of its usefulness revealed once more.
The words came to him like a dream: ‘Far and away and here,’ almost lost beneath the wild bird calls a
nd frantic flapping.
Hal didn’t know what happened next. He found himself flying through the air, knocked free from the grip of the Lord of Birds by a tremendous impact that stunned him. As he lay in the freezing snow, head spinning, the smell of wet fur filled his nostrils. The deafening roar of a tremendous beast echoed all around.
From the corner of his eye, Hal saw a frenzied shape attack the Lord of Birds. Feathers flew everywhere; dismembered bird heads plopped into the snow, beady eyes still rolling. Shocked alert, Hal drove himself backwards with his heels until he was far enough away to see properly what was occurring.
The Lord of Birds was being torn apart by an oversized man. Hal got glimpses through the wall of feathers — furs, a wide-brimmed hat, a string of dead conies swinging wildly — and realised it was Bearskin, the sharp-toothed drinker from the mysterious inn who had given Hal the Bloodeye.
Hal got to his feet, but he was transfixed by the inhuman fury of the attack. The Lord of Birds was being driven back, falling apart, becoming less human in form with each passing moment. But when Bearskin glanced back in Hal’s direction, Hal immediately saw why: his rescuer’s face was partially transformed; fur sprouted from the cheeks and forehead, the nose and mouth protruding in the first stage of a snout, the eyes big and black, his hands now covered with fur and tipped with long, jagged talons.
Hal was horrified by the ferocity he saw there, and he feared that once Bearskin had disposed of the Lord of Birds, the shape-shifter would turn on him.
‘Leave!’ Bearskin roared at him, the word barely distinguishable from the incoherent snarl of an animal. Hal could see from Bearskin’s eyes that he also thought he might not be able to control himself.
Hal scrambled to his feet and ran just as the other Lords began to emerge from the front of the mansion house. Foaming at the mouth, Bearskin descended on the Lord of Birds in a renewed frenzy of tearing and rending. By the time Hal had reached the line of Samantha’s footprints there remained only a wide arc of twitching bodies and torn wings and a faint purple mist where the Lord of Birds had stood, slowly breaking up in the snowy wind.
Bearskin turned on the other Lords, but it was clear that he wouldn’t stand a chance against the three of them. Instead, he awkwardly manoeuvred the blunderbuss that hung at his side and fired a tremendous volley that rang off the hall’s white walls. Hal didn’t wait to see if it had any impact on the fast-approaching Lords.
Though the thick snow made his leg muscles burn, Hal ran without stopping until he reached the halfway point between the house and the place where the lane entered the trees. He allowed himself one brief glance back: something that looked like a large brown bear was moving away on all fours at great speed.
Already the memory of the Bloodeye had faded from Hal’s mind, but the Lords would haunt him for ever, and the knowledge that they were hunting for him filled him with dread. Yet he had learned an important part of the mystery that he was sure was key to the survival of humanity and he was increasingly optimistic that the final pieces would soon fall into place.
Ahead of him, Samantha was just making her way into the trees. And there was his other great hope: he’d saved her life, and if he could help save the day, then perhaps she would finally see him as more than a good friend. Her love was worth fighting for more than anything else.
Chapter Twelve
The Heart In wInter
‘ Beware, for the time may be short.’
Winston Churchill
Needles of ice blasted into the parts of Hunter’s face that he hadn’t been able to cover as he led his horse blindly into the blizzard. It had been blowing with fierce intensity for several hours and he desperately needed to find shelter, but it was night and no lights glimmered anywhere. He could no longer feel his feet or hands, despite the heavy boots and thick gloves. His mount’s large body mass coped with the cold better than he did, but there was a limit to how much it could endure. Hunter had only made it this far with the help of the horse’s strength; on foot he wouldn’t stand a chance. His lifeless, frozen body would be covered by snow within the hour, never to be found again.
In his left hand, he held the lantern up high, but the illumination barely spread more than three feet ahead. He was using it more in the hope that someone would see it and welcome him out of the storm than to light his way, but he knew that was a dim prospect.
He was regretting his decision to let events lead him to his destination. There, so close to death, it felt childish and nonsensical, not the positive affirmation he had entertained when he had first embarked on his path. His choice was going to end up killing him.
From North Hinksey he’d taken the A34 and then the A423, moving north before getting lost in the snow. He had been hoping to reach Banbury and some shelter where he could rest a while, but there was little chance of that now.
Just visible in the field next to the road was an old barn. Snow heaped against its walls and lay heavy on the roof, but the door was accessible. It looked poor shelter, but it was all he had, and after several minutes of clearing snow with frozen hands he could open the door wide enough to gain access for himself and his horse.
Inside, it was as barely adequate as he had imagined. Cold wind blew through broken planks around the door, but there were numerous bales of hay that he could position to create a smaller shelter within the larger structure. His horse perked up slightly at being out of the freezing night, so Hunter left it alone long enough to break up some old, discarded furniture for a fire. The barn was large and draughty enough for the smoke to escape and soon Hunter was sitting next to the blaze, pondering his bleak immediate future. It wasn’t long before the warmth and the weariness took their toll.
Not long after he had slipped into an exhausted sleep, he woke with a sudden start, calling out his father’s name. Instantly, he realised he wasn’t alone.
A hulking figure sat on the other side of the fire, its face obscured by the drifting smoke. Hunter’s hand quickly went to his gun, but the figure didn’t appear concerned. It was difficult to assess the man’s height in a sitting position, but Hunter guessed he must have been well over seven feet tall. The smoke cleared a little to reveal long black hair and a black beard and eyes just as dark, though burning intensely.
‘Stay your hand, Brother of Dragons,’ the giant said in a deep, resonant voice.
Hunter’s fingers hovered over the weapon for a moment longer, then retreated. ‘Who are you? The Tooth Fairy?’
‘I am called the Caretaker.’
Hunter recalled the encounter with this being that Hal had related to him just before his life had taken a turn into the twilight zone.
The Caretaker pointed ominously to the lantern; its flame flared as his finger came close. ‘I am the lamplighter. Even when darkness falls, I am there to ensure that a single flame still burns.’
Hunter lounged against a hay bale and rubbed the sleep from his eyes. ‘Mallory thought I was crazy just wandering around, waiting for something to happen. Well, I bet he’s the one frozen up to his neck in a ditch somewhere. So you’re one of the gods, right? One of the Tuatha De Danann?’
The Caretaker gave a faint, enigmatic smile. ‘There are Higher Powers. There is always something higher. The Goddess has returned, reunited with her male reflection.’ He watched Hunter’s face intently. ‘I am an intermediary. A guide-’
‘Yes, I get it. A Caretaker. You put the chairs away after the party.’
Hunter expected a negative response, but the Caretaker simply nodded. ‘I do. And I put them out before the party begins. It is my job to ensure that the master plan progresses smoothly. A higher plan so vast and timeless that it is beyond your comprehension. You can barely see even a part of it from your narrow perspective, Fragile Creature. Yet you, and your brothers and sisters, have a large part to play.’
‘You see, there’s one thing you’re not getting. I’m not a reliable person. I like to drink. I like to have sex, preferably with as many women as possible. I lik
e to raise hell. Not so hot on doing the right thing. Moral compass — needle all over the place.’
Hunter shifted as the Caretaker stared right into him. For a second, he had the impression that he was a small boy again, standing before his father; the image was so potent that Hunter could almost smell the starch of his father’s dress uniform.
‘You in a position to tell me exactly what’s going on?’ Hunter asked.
The Caretaker explained carefully about the Void, its nature and what it was planning, making it plain to Hunter that only the Brothers and Sisters of Dragons could oppose it. ‘The lantern is called the Wayfinder,’ the Caretaker continued. Hunter glanced at the blue flame as events began to fall into place; he had been meant to find it, of course — it was important. ‘It is my lantern,’ the Caretaker continued, ‘and it is a part of Existence — not a lantern at all, but that is how you see it.’
‘That flame,’ Hunter began, ‘blue…’
The Caretaker nodded. ‘It is a link with the Pendragon Spirit. The power in the Wayfinder is a part of you, Brother of Dragons. The flame points the way. Follow it and it will lead you to the person you seek.’
‘That’s handy. It would have been nice to know that before I started going around in circles in a blizzard, freezing my arse off.’
‘Existence helps when you truly need it, Brother of Dragons. For the most part you must rely on your own strengths.’
‘I get it — free will.’ Hunter thought about this for a moment. ‘OK. I like that. So now I’ve got a direction. How am I going to get where I’m going through this snow with a nag that’s almost dead on its feet? You don’t have a magic snowplough tucked away somewhere, do you?’
‘The blizzard will break tomorrow. You will have a brief period for travel before the next storm sets in. There is food for you and your horse in a farm further along the road. The occupants died when their fuel ran out.’
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