Digging in his spurs, he propelled his horse into the fray. Lament-Brood fell beneath the trampling hooves, skulls split, torsos crushed. The air itself singed as Mallory swung his sword. The Lament-Brood fell before him like grass before a scythe. None could touch him, and soon the ground was covered with corpses and his horse was trampling them into the snow.
In Mallory’s mind, all sound disappeared, the hacking of bone, the ringing of steel, the thunder of hooves, until a deep silence swaddled him. He couldn’t smell, taste, touch, and a blue sheen lay across his mind. In that instant, he was the sword and the sword was him, each possessing and being possessed by the other.
Finally the Lament-Brood fell back at some silent summons. Their ranks parted and the Lord of Bones marched through. It towered over Mallory even on horseback, its bones splattered with red human blood.
It surveyed Mallory for a moment, a cold intelligence that insinuated through the blue into Mallory’s mind, unbearably alien, betraying no recognisable emotion. And then, when it was satisfied that it understood what lay before it, it drove forward with a speed belied by its size.
Mallory forced his horse to dance out of the creature’s path, but it only just evaded the charge. The Lord of Bones’ talons ripped through Mallory’s trousers and into the flesh beneath. And as the fingers scythed across his flesh, Mallory felt a tugging in his bones, as if they were on the verge of being sucked out of his body.
Mallory guided the horse to circle and then drive in. Llyrwyn blazed through the air to smash against the bone-creature’s shoulder blade. The impact almost threw Mallory out of the saddle. Bone erupted outwards and parts of the creature’s form began to fall away. But it clearly felt no pain and immediately launched another attack that Mallory only just avoided.
They continued that way for nearly half an hour, with no sign of the creature weakening. Every now and then, the Lord would draw blood with its razor-sharp fingers and Mallory’s clothes were now wet and sticky in many places. Mallory had a vision of losing the battle, of the thing pulling his skeleton clean out of his skin. He wondered with a sickening fascination what his final thoughts would be.
The horse’s breath and his own mingled in a hot, white cloud in the freezing air. But while Mallory tirelessly sustained his attack, his horse was growing sluggish. Finally, as Mallory brought his searing sword down in a hissing strike that shattered a portion of the Lord of Bones’ skull, his mount failed to retreat quickly enough.
The Lord of Bones seized its moment. Like a striking snake, it grabbed Mallory and ripped him from the saddle, pressing him close to its hard body. It smelled incongruously of milk.
Mallory fought to free himself, but a powerful sucking sensation had already manifested deep inside him. It felt as though hooks had been attached to his bones and were pulling them out through his muscle and skin. The agonising pain drove him to the edge of unconsciousness, but he continued to fight to the last.
The hurricane wind came from nowhere. Mallory and the Lord of Bones were thrown through the air against a building on the far side of the road. The Lord of Bones took the brunt of the impact, but Mallory was knocked unconsciousness by the shock.
When he came round, he was lying in the snow, his entire body on fire with pain from the sucking power of the Lord of Bones. But it was fading. The creature was staggering around, its right arm shattered into pieces and a section of its torso falling away.
The wind had died down a little, but the snow still blasted against Mallory’s skin like hot pins. Dazed, he staggered to his feet, searching for his sword. It lay half-buried in a drift nearby. But the Lord of Bones had seen him again and was rapidly stalking his way.
Before it could reach him, there was a deafening clap of thunder. Lightning crashed down in a direct hit on the Lord of Bones. In the flash of blinding light, Mallory was hurled backwards, but this time he fought to stay conscious.
The air reeked of burned iron. What remained of the Lord of Bones still stalked around, smoke rising from the shattered bones. Drunkenly, Mallory retrieved his sword. The moment the weapon was in his hands and the blue flames were roaring, his mind became sharp and focused. He attacked the Lord of Bones with venom, not stopping his hacking and slashing until only a few bone shards remained and a faint purple mist was drifting in the now-subsiding gale.
Mallory looked around eagerly. He knew who he had to thank for his survival. Sophie stood in the driver’s seat of the jeep, arms raised in supplication to the sky. Gradually, she sagged as the power faded. She managed a wave and a smile before Shavi urged her to drive to another location.
The Lament-Brood appeared disoriented by the Lord of Bones’ destruction, but Mallory could see that they were slowly re-forming their ranks to prepare for their next advance. All the surviving soldiers had fled to another fall-back position. There was nothing else he could do. Reclaiming his weary horse, he turned back into the city, following the tracks of Sophie’s jeep.
The row of mighty oaks soared more than thirty feet above Laura’s head, and the barrier was at least the same distance thick. Almost all her reserves had gone into constructing it, but she knew it would not keep the Lament-Brood out for long. Already she could hear the hacking of their weapons against the trunks. They would not tire, would not defer to serious injury; they would just keep going until they crushed everything in their path.
Laura walked away in search of shelter to recover, only to be halted in her tracks by gunfire coming from the buildings on either side of the wall of trees. Knowing instantly that it signalled a change in tactics, she angrily stormed into the nearest building and climbed the stairs to the second floor where two soldiers were pumping rounds wildly into the swarming Lament-Brood on the other side of the defence.
They were so preoccupied with their task that Laura could creep close enough to see past them. The Lament-Brood were clambering up the side of the building to get access to the windows so that they could bypass the trees. Some were smashing their weapons into the brickwork to gain foot- and handholds; others were simply clambering up on top of compacted bodies. But at the head of the climbing ranks was the Lord of Lizards. The glow from the street lights glistened on its skin, its entire body writhing with the packed combination of snakes, toads and newts. Its appearance revolted her, but what made her feel worse was the hunger that gleamed in its reptilian eyes.
The soldiers’ slugs ripped through it with little effect and the two men were growing increasingly scared as the beast drew nearer to them. Soon it would be in a position to pull itself through the window.
Laura leaned against a wall and closed her eyes. In her mind, she could see one final blue spark of power burning in the depths of her. Would it be it enough? She coaxed the spark higher and focused.
Just beyond the window, the Lord of Lizards paused as an odd sensation moved through its body. Deep in the stomachs of the many creatures that made up its form, biological matter was starting to move, change, grow.
Laura concentrated. She had all but exhausted her abilities; one last drop remained, one minute amount left to be squeezed out.
The pressure inside the Lord of Lizards grew. Laura gave it her last burst of energy. A holly bush, a rowan tree, a hawthorn and several other small shrubs and plants grew within the Lord at once, ripping through weak flesh in an instant. The amalgamation of lizards exploded in a puff of purple smoke and a sudden shower of red roses. Laura thought that was a nice touch.
Too weak to be any more use, she lurched back down the stairs to the street. Her actions had bought them a little time to find the Void, that was all. But as she headed back towards the city centre humming an old Basement Jaxx song, she reflected that she’d at least got a little pleasure from her last wanton act of violence.
Sophie brought the jeep to a sharp stop, the wheels skidding in the snow.
‘Anything?’ she asked.
Shavi shook his head, the strain on his face starting to show. ‘It used to take an intensive ritual to contac
t the spirits, but recently I have been able to do it easily. Often they felt as if they were always around, so that I could talk to them at any moment. But now…’ A shiver ran through him. ‘They are not answering my call.’
‘Come on, Shavi, we have to find the Void. It’s all down to us.’
‘You mean it is all down to me. I know. I will not fail you.’ He looked around, then said, ‘Get me inside one of the buildings. Away from this cold, I can concentrate, set up a ritual…’ There was a faint note of desperation in his voice that to Sophie sounded out of character. They clambered out of the jeep and struggled through the snowstorm towards the nearest buildings.
Hunter was aware of Mallory’s arrival, but he couldn’t take his eyes off the Lord of Flesh. The scores of snapping animal mouths threatened to tear at his flesh whenever he came close. He’d already discarded his gun as useless. After that, he’d wrenched a spear from one of the Lament-Brood’s limbs in the hope that it would allow him an arm’s length attack, but it had simply passed through the churning furry bodies without inflicting any serious harm. Now he was left with a rusted sword, the jagged forearm of one of the Lament-Brood still hanging from the hilt.
‘I’ve taken one of these things down already,’ Mallory yelled, as he guided his horse in a circle around Hunter and the Lord of Flesh.
‘Aren’t you the big-shot?’ Hunter replied through gritted teeth. He attempted another flailing lunge that resulted in a ferocious snapping of jaws.
‘You need a hand?’ Mallory swung Llyrwyn and sheared through several of the Lament-Brood who were drawing too close for comfort. The brilliant light from the sword made the others shy away.
‘What do you think?’ Hunter snapped.
Mallory directed his horse to the opposite side of the Lord. The creature ranged back and forth, attempting to strike at one, then the other.
‘I prefer my weapons a bit more on the modern side,’ Hunter said.
Mallory grunted. ‘A poor workman always blames his tools.’
‘There’s only one tool around here.’ Hunter relished landing a blow that took the head off a badger. ‘And it’s not me.’
As the Lord of Flesh responded furiously to Hunter’s attack, Mallory seized his moment, driving in to hack at the creature’s head from behind. A mass of furry bodies rained across the area. Before the Lord could recover from Mallory’s blow, Hunter had leaped from his horse and was slashing at its legs. Bloody chunks fell all around and within seconds the Lord had crashed down into the snow.
Together, Mallory and Hunter jumped in to finish the thing off. They didn’t stop chopping until there was no recognisable shape left amongst any of the animals that had made up the Lord’s form. Mallory held Hunter back as purple mist drifted up. ‘All right,’ he said, ‘he’s done for.’
They ran to their horses and mounted them quickly. ‘We’ll regroup further down the street,’ Hunter yelled above the wind. ‘I wonder if these things burn?’
‘Got a plan?’
‘I wouldn’t quite call it that yet-’ Hunter reined in his horse and looked around. ‘Can you hear that?’
At first, Mallory couldn’t. But then a low drone began to float in from the darkness beyond the city, growing louder, gradually becoming even louder still. The wind suddenly and mysteriously dropped.
‘Look,’ Hunter said.
The Lament-Brood had stopped moving. It was an eerie sight to see them all standing stock-still like statues. They were waiting for something.
‘What’s that noise?’ Mallory said, rubbing his ears. The rising sound felt as if it was drilling deep into his brain.
Hunter knew: he’d heard it before and the memory brought a strong, queasy response. ‘I think,’ he said, ‘that the king is about to enter the building.’
Chapter Seventeen
Twilight Of The Gods
‘ I leave you, hoping that the lamp of liberty will burn in your bosoms, until there shall no longer be a doubt that all men are created free and equal.’
Abraham Lincoln
Blood stained the front of Hal’s shirt and crusted his top lip where he had been punched repeatedly in the face by members of the arresting party. His jaw ached and one eye was so swollen that he could barely see out of it. The guards had made it quite plain that there would be no trial, judge or jury: it had already been decided that he was guilty of the assassination plot.
He’d lost consciousness at some point during the beating, but now, as he looked around, he saw that he was in one of the cells in the high-security area in the Brasenose/Lincoln complex. Through the walls, he could hear the dim cries of the supernatural creatures that had been imprisoned down there; they all sounded distressed, frightened.
Dull panic battled with guilt. Everyone was relying on him and he’d allowed himself to be taken; he should have guessed that Reid and the others would know where he’d be hiding out. Hunter wouldn’t have made that mistake, nor would any of the others. Why was he so useless? He fought down his contempt for his own abilities and forced his mind to focus on a way of getting out. The alternative was unthinkable.
As Hal racked his brains for some kind of strategy, the door swung open and Reid slipped in.
‘Mister Reid, I didn’t do anything-’ Hal’s protestations died on his lips when he saw Reid’s slight smile.
‘Of course you didn’t.’ Reid leaned against the door and folded his arms. He was completely assured, displaying just a hint of the arrogance that he had kept in check in recent weeks. Hal could see Reid’s complicity writ large in his features.
‘You set me up. You’re responsible for this whole plot.’
‘Yes and no. I’m just a loyal servant, doing what I’m told, going where I’m ordered.’
‘Then who do you report to? The General?’
Reid laughed. ‘The General is a simple man. Soldiers do not normally make good politicians. He’s even more of a lick-spittle than me, though I’m sure he would never characterise himself in that way. Just following orders, that’s the General. The dignity and honour of being a public servant.’
Reid watched the thought processes rush across Hal’s face and shook his head, laughing. ‘You’re too simple a person, Mister Campbell. Uncomplicated, I think is the polite phrase. Not cynical. Very, very innocent.’ Reid made it sound like an insult. ‘The conspiracy extends much more widely than you could possibly guess. Everyone in the Government is involved. Certainly everyone in the upper echelons.’
‘The Cabinet-’
‘The Cabinet, the senior advisors, spies, policemen, business leaders, aristocrats — all the people who made up the great and the good before the Fall and who now keep the country running.’
Hal was dumbfounded. ‘All of them? Why? What could you possibly gain by killing the PM now, when everything is falling apart and we need a strong leader?’
‘Exactly. The PM was being particularly obstructive to the route that everyone else felt was best to preserve traditional values and our way of life. And time was running out.’
‘So you killed him.’
‘No, you killed him.’
‘There’s no evidence of that,’ Hal protested.
‘Ah, but there is. A great deal of evidence, in fact.’ Reid pulled out a digital photo of a strange star-shaped object. Hal recognised it instantly: Reid had handed it to him when he had taken Hal into the secure storeroom to give him the Wish Stone mystery to investigate. ‘Odd thing, this,’ Reid continued. ‘We still haven’t discerned if there’s a biological element to it. But one of our scientists discovered early on, to his great misfortune, that when activated it pumps ever-expanding tendrils into the body and tears it apart from within. And this innocuous-looking object was by the side of the PM’s body when it was found, with your fingerprints all over it.’
‘So you didn’t want the Stone investigated at all. It was just a ploy to fit me up.’ Hal put his head in his hands, sickened by the machinations. ‘What was the point in framing me? If there were
so many people involved in the conspiracy, why didn’t you just bump the PM off and have done with it?’
Reid grew uncomfortable; he was still hiding something. ‘The majority of our soldiers and employees… the people generally… needed a culprit to focus their minds and keep them fully behind the project.’
‘But why me? Was I simply in the wrong place at the wrong time?’
Reid didn’t answer.
‘And what was happening with Manning? All the weird things I saw-’
‘Ah, Ms Manning. A very puzzling woman. She appeared to be on board at first, but recently…’ He shrugged, shook his head. ‘There’s an order out for her arrest.’
‘You think you’ve got everything covered, but it’s all a waste of time. The Void is still going to wipe everything out.’
Reid nodded. ‘Indeed.’
‘You want that?’ Hal jumped to his feet in disbelief.
Reid raised one warning finger; he remained calm, but there was a deep threat implicit in that simple motion. ‘You can’t escape, Hal. You can’t run. Every single person in authority out in the city has your description. Orders have now gone out for you to be shot on sight. You’re safer here.’
‘Why don’t you just kill me now?’ Hal flopped on to the bed and covered his face again; nothing made any sense.
‘Oh, I will. Your execution is imminent. We can’t have you blurting all this out and ruining things. But first you have one more little part to play.’
It took a second for Reid’s words to register, and by then the spy was slipping out of the door with a cruelly triumphant smile directed at Hal. The door closed with a click; the locks slipped back into place.
‘You can set me free. I’m not going to hurt anyone.’
Caitlin’s pleading voice cut to Thackeray’s heart. He could barely look at her, tied to an old wooden chair, her wrists bound behind her back and roped to her ankles, the knots pulled so tightly that they had brought droplets of blood to the surface of her pale, chafed skin. Her face looked so innocent, the Caitlin he had met all those weeks ago in the devastation of Birmingham, when he’d cared for her and first realised he had fallen in love. But with the Morrigan still inside her, they couldn’t take any chances. He’d seen what the goddess could do: one flick of a wrist could snap his neck and she’d move on without giving it a second thought.
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