‘So you’re going to cover yourself with blue paint and go into war naked?’
Her smile was a challenge. ‘If we have to. I love to see cynics proved wrong, Mallory. As an aside, don’t go basing your views of the Celts on the writings of some tired old Romans. The victors write history and they disempower the vanquished. What we want is a society of equality, a strong community that looks after the weakest members, that’s close to nature, that emphasises the arts and spirituality over making money and personal greed—’
‘Well, when you put it like that
She watched him cautiously with those big, unnaturally dark eyes, slowly getting the measure of him. He relished her attention, enjoyed the fact that, liked or disliked, he had somehow been raised above the herd in her eyes. ‘If we don’t do it, there’ll be plenty ready to take us back to the old, failed ways,’ she said.
‘OK, that seems a reasonable motivation,’ Mallory conceded, ‘but all this other stuff…’ He waved a dismissive hand towards the perimeter posts.
‘It’s part of the human condition to be arrogant.’ Her smile was as confrontational as Mallory’s words. ‘Everyone thinks they know exactly how the world works. Everyone.’ Irony laced her comments. ‘What do you think that suggests? We’re all fumbling in the dark towards an answer.’
The calming atmosphere in the camp had almost made them forget the devastation going on in the city beyond. Occasionally, they would be distracted by a sudden pillar of fire, or when the wind with its chilling voices rushed close by, but generally they felt cosseted in an atmosphere of security that made Mallory face up to the possibility there might be something in the travellers’ magical thinking.
They continued their conversation well into the night. Mallory enjoyed the challenge of sparring with Sophie’s sharp intellect, and it soon became apparent that Sophie found something intriguing in Mallory, too, though whether she liked him was a different matter. She maintained eye contact, spoke to him much more than she did to Miller, and underneath it all there was definite sexual tension. Sophie spoke warmly of her background, growing up in Cambridge, father a doctor, mother a lawyer, studying English at university before feeling there was more to life. She committed herself to campaigning: for the environment, for Amnesty International, was briefly arrested during a protest against the World Trade Organisation that got out of hand. Mallory was taken by the rich depth of her beliefs and the passion she exhibited. She was so full of life he felt revitalised being next to her.
He, in return, told her nothing, but he did it in a humorous enough way to win her over.
Other members of the community came and went during the night hours, occasionally bringing them food - roasted vegetables, branded snacks that had a desirable rarity post-Fall - and cider. They were uncommonly cheerful; most of the people Mallory encountered in life were surly, suspicious, broken or downright violent. Probably all on drugs, he thought, yet he felt oddly disturbed that they were genuinely pleased to see him, and never once questioned who he was or from where he came.
At one point, an impromptu music session broke out, with guitars, harmonicas, saxophones and makeshift percussion, intermingling old pop songs and traditional folk tunes. It was the first time he had heard them since the Fall and he was surprised at how powerfully they tugged at his emotions.
But there was also something about the idyll that irritated Mallory: they had no right to be so content when the rest of the world had a cast of misery. ‘So who’s in charge here?’ he said. ‘Or is it one of those idealistic communes where everything starts to fall apart the moment the washing- up rota comes into play?’
Sophie thought briefly, then said to Rick, ‘How is she?’
‘She’ll probably be asleep.’
‘Let’s check. She likes the night.’ She stood up and motioned for Mallory and Miller to follow. They picked their way amongst the tents, past many smaller fires, to a larger tent outside which two torches blazed.
Sophie disappeared inside, emerging a moment later to say, ‘She’ll see you.’
The interior of the tent was shadowy, warm and perfumed with lavender. The front section contained a few chairs, rugs, pot plants - one of them cannabis, Mallory noted - and ornaments with a faintly occult bent, including the skull of a cow.
The second section lay behind a purple velvet drape. Here, it was even gloomier and it took a second or two for their eyes to adjust. There was a large wooden bed that appeared medieval in origin and must have been brought from somewhere in the city, and on it lay a woman in her late forties, her long black hair streaked with silver. Despite the heat emanating from a brazier in one corner, she sprawled beneath several thick blankets. Her face was nearly white and drawn, as though she had some debilitating illness. Her gaze, though, was incisive, and she fixed instantly on Mallory.
‘This is Melanie,’ Sophie said quietly.
Mallory introduced himself and Miller. The woman gave off a peaceful air, as if whatever lay in the ground at that site had been absorbed by her.
‘I hope my friends have been looking after you.’ Her voice was hoarse, almost a whisper.
‘You’ve got a good crowd here,’ Mallory said.
That appeared to please her. ‘Sophie seems to think the two of you are very likeable, too.’
Mallory glanced at Sophie who blushed and looked away.
‘We’re trying to fit in with the locals,’ Melanie continued. ‘We want people to see that what we’re doing here is right.’ She ended her sentence with a deep, tremulous breath.
‘Mallory here is very sceptical.’ Sophie eyed him slyly. ‘He doesn’t believe in ley lines or the power in the land. And he especially doesn’t believe we can create a boundary that will make us invisible to Fabulous Beasts.’
‘Sophie, dear, not everyone is a forward thinker, even in this newly enlightened age.’ She smiled weakly. ‘I’m sorry, Mr Mallory, I’m teasing you. If you’re hard and fast in your views, I wouldn’t dream of trying to change them. But this is the way it was told to me. Millennia ago, the power in the land flowed freely through everything and everyone. We call it the Blue Fire, but it has many other names: chi to the Chinese …’ She waved a hand to suggest this wasn’t important. ‘It healed, but it could also be destructive when used against the enemies of life. It could be shaped and directed by will alone and it could cause effects at a distance.’
‘Magic, in a word,’ Mallory said.
‘Very perceptive,’ Sophie said, with mild sarcasm.
‘The Blue Fire formed a global network that kept the world … nature … healthy. It was fuelled by spirituality, by the faith of ancient people in tune with the land. They erected the standing stones and established die old sacred places at points where the Blue Fire was the strongest. But as civilisation advanced we lost touch with the energy. It became increasingly dormant, and the land suffered accordingly. There were still people who could use it to achieve things, but it was hard work and the effects were both hit or miss and not particularly great. The Craft, we call it. The great Wiccan tradition.’
Miller gasped audibly and took a step back. Mallory saw a glimmer of panic in his face. Please don’t shout, ‘Bum the witch!’, Mallory thought.
Melanie smiled at his reaction. ‘Forget the old clichés. We’re not all double, double, toil and trouble. This is a religion, if you will. We have our rituals, the same as the Christian Church. We have our ministers and silly little trappings that make us feel happy. And we do good works. But I digress—’
‘The Blue Fire is back in force.’ Sophie’s eyes gleamed, her voice quiet but intense. ‘And we can do great things again.’
‘Just like that,’ Mallory said.
‘Yes. Just like that.’ She looked to Melanie. ‘When everything changed with the Fall, it regained its old vitality. The Fall was a signifier that we’d moved into a new age—’
‘The dawning of the Age of Aquarius,’ Mallory joked.
‘Not everyone has the ability to work
subtle magics, in the same way that not everyone can be an artist. But those who are able are very, very able. Supercharged,’ Melanie said.
‘I remain to be convinced,’ Mallory said.
‘Of course you do,’ Melanie replied. ‘This is a hard topic for many people to swallow. They get taught things when they’re young … things about the way the world works … and they don’t like to give them up easily. It makes them feel uneasy. Destabilised.’ Melanie nodded to Sophie. ‘Darling, be a dear and tell Mr Mallory about Ruth Gallagher.’ Her eyelids drooped shut.
‘I’ve heard that name,’ Miller said.
‘You should have. Everyone should have, but the word is still getting round.’ Sophie tried to read Mallory’s face to see if he had become any more receptive. ‘After the Fall, there was a group of people who fought for humanity. They were heroes. And one of them was Ruth Gallagher. The gods gifted her with a tremendous power. She became an ultimate adept at the Craft—’
‘An Uber-witch.’ Mallory couldn’t restrain himself, but Sophie was unfazed.
‘She could do amazing things. She could shake the world if she wanted. After the final battle, she set out across the land, spreading the word, teaching those who came to her. And Melanie was one of the first. They met in the Midlands, near Warwick, and Melanie took to it phenomenally. Her potential was off the scale. And she taught me.’
‘And Sophie’s potential is great, too.’ Melanie’s eyes were open once more, but she looked even more weary.
‘I still think you’re fooling yourself,’ Mallory said. ‘But I’ll bite. Go on, show me.’
‘No,’ Sophie said indignantly.
‘We don’t perform, Mr Mallory.’ Melanie threw a scrawny arm over her eyes. ‘We use the Craft sparingly and for the right reasons. We use it as Christians would prayer. It’s not something to be taken lightly.’
‘Oh, well, then, that’s all right. You can show me, you just don’t feel like it,’ Mallory said. ‘You’ve convinced me. I’m a believer.’
‘Are you always like this?’ Sophie’s eyes blazed.
‘Actually, he is,’ Miller said.
Mallory flashed him a look that suggested he was a traitor. ‘As you said earlier, everyone out there thinks they know the way the world works. And they’re all wrong. So why should you be right?’
Miller moved to the foot of Melanie’s bed. His curiosity had been caught by the way the blankets were lying; it didn’t look right. ‘If you don’t mind me asking,’ he said gently, ‘what’s wrong with you?’
Sophie’s face grew hard. ‘What’s wrong with her?’ Rick suddenly appeared near to tears. ‘She was trying to do some good and she was attacked and beaten for it!’
‘I’m sorry,’ Miller said. ‘We have access to medical care … well, herbs and the like. If we can help—’
‘There’s not much that can be done, I’m afraid.’ Melanie gently pulled back the blankets. Both her legs were missing from the knee.
Miller recoiled. ‘My God, what happened?’
‘She was attacked by a group of bastards from the cathedral!’ Rick said, his eyes brimming over.
Miller blanched, glanced at Mallory in disbelief.
‘We were at Stonehenge,’ Sophie continued, her face like stone. ‘It used to be a dead site … all the energy leeched from it because of exploitation … but after the Fall it came back with force. We were investigating some reports that a Fabulous Beast had settled in the area when—’
‘They came out of nowhere!’ Rick raged. ‘Black-shirted bastards with a red cross on the front - we’ve seen them around the cathedral! Think they’re some kind of knights—’
‘No!’ Miller exclaimed, waving his hands as if he were trying to waft away the notion.
‘They did that?’ Mallory said.
‘They tried to drive us off,’ Sophie replied. ‘Came at us on horseback with swords and pikes and all sorts of medieval weaponry.’
‘I couldn’t get out of the way in time,’ Melanie said. ‘I fell beneath the hooves. They weren’t able to save my legs.’
‘No,’ Miller repeated, backing towards the purple drapes. ‘I don’t believe it.’ Sophie, Rick and Melanie looked at him in puzzlement.
‘It’s true,’ Sophie said. ‘We wouldn’t make something like that up. They knew who we were - unbelievers - and they rode her down. They didn’t try to help or anything, just drove us away. They didn’t care if we lived or died.’
‘No,’ Miller said again. ‘We’re knights - we’re from the cathedral. And no one there would do anything like that.’
Mallory’s heart sank. Miller’s denial was too strong, bolstered by his own need to believe that there was no truth in the story. Mallory had been focusing on Rick’s face; the puzzlement hung there for an instant while he processed what Miller had said and then his features hardened.
‘Is this true?’ Sophie said directly to Mallory. A hint of betrayal chilled her eyes.
‘We only signed up today,’ Mallory replied.
Rick looked as if he would leap across the room and attack them. ‘They’re all the same!’ he raged. ‘They hate anyone who’s not a Christian—’
‘That’s not true!’ Miller protested, close to tears himself.
‘Please,’ Melanie said weakly, ‘no arguments.’
Mallory could see that the warm atmosphere had already evaporated. The extent of Melanie’s tragedy meant any attempt to argue their innocence would be offensive. ‘Come on, Miller, this isn’t the time,’ he said, grabbing the young knight’s arm. Miller threw it off, preparing to defend his Faith further, and Mallory grabbed him tighter this time, dragging him back. ‘Get a grip,’ Mallory hissed in his ear. ‘Look at what’s happened to her - have some heart.’
‘Yeah, get out of here,’ Rick said, ‘and tell your lot we’ll never forget what they did.’
Melanie closed her eyes; the strain was telling on her. Mallory tried to imagine the pain and horror of having two legs amputated without recourse to anaesthetic or an operating theatre. ‘Come on, Miller,’ he said, softening. Slowly, his companion unclenched and turned to go.
Miller paused at the drapes and said, ‘I’m sorry. I truly am.’ But the look on the faces of Sophie and Rick showed they both realised Melanie was probably dying and there were no words that could make amends for the crime that had been committed.
Sophie exited with them while Rick tended to Melanie. The frostiness of her mood made Mallory feel as if he’d lost something truly valuable; she didn’t meet his eyes any more.
‘I know it’s not your fault,’ she said, ‘but I have a very real problem with anyone who subscribes to a belief system that condones something like that.’
Mallory wanted to tell her he’d only signed up for a job of work, but at that point it would have sounded so pathetic it wouldn’t have achieved anything. Instead he said, ‘I’m sorry things ended like this.’
She didn’t wait to hear any more.
As they trudged across the camp, the first light of dawn coloured the eastern sky. The screeching wind ended as if someone had flicked a switch, nor was there any sign of the Fabulous Beast.
Miller had been lost to his thoughts until he said, ‘It can’t be true, Mallory. No one at the cathedral would stand by that kind of behaviour.’
‘I don’t know, Miller - it only takes one bad apple … or one psycho … and everybody gets tarnished. Any club that has me as a member can’t have a very strict vetting procedure.’
‘We should tell James … or Blaine—’
‘Right, and say we dumped our uniforms and slipped out under cover of darkness to spend time with a bunch of witches. That should merit a crucifixion at least.’
‘Don’t joke about that, Mallory!’ Miller’s emotions were all raging near the surface, but he managed to calm himself. ‘I’m sorry. But I’m not like you, Mallory. I believe in things, and it hurts me when you take the piss out of them.’
‘OK. I won’t do it again.’
/> Miller eyed him askance to see if he was joking, but couldn’t begin to tell. Mallory’s thoughts, however, had already turned to seeing Sophie again and ways that he might bridge the gulf that lay between them. It wasn’t insurmountable, he was sure, but he would need time away from the strict regime of the cathedral.
When they walked along High Street up to the main entrance, what they saw brought them to an immediate halt. The enormous iron gates were bowed, almost torn asunder, hanging from their hinges by a sliver. The Devil had come calling.
CHAPTER FOUR
entertaining angels unawares
‘No human being will ever know the Truth, for even if they happened to say it by chance, they would not know they had done so.’
- Xenophanes
September turned to October and with it came the first real chill of the approaching winter. The rooftops visible beyond the walls sparkled with frost as they emerged from the dawn mist, and the breath of the brethren formed pearly clouds when they trooped to the cathedral for prime. How the city’s residents were coping with the first cold snap was a mystery, for since the night of the near-destruction of the gates the bishop had ruled that no one should leave the compound.
The attack had shaken the cathedral to its core. A black, fearful mood lay over all, turning every conversation at the refectory tables, or in the leaky, cold shacks, or in the kitchens, or the herbarium, or the infirmary, to only one subject: the End Times had arrived.
At first, no one could quite grasp that what had been predicted and dissected for millennia had finally arrived and they were truly living in the age of the ultimate battle between good and evil, but gradually the desperate reality of their situation crept over them. Everyone in the cathedral who had seen the horned figure looming over the city or felt the scuttling touch of the presence’s hideous intelligence in their mind had no doubt of the Adversary’s black power. As the bishop pointed out in one of his sermons, there were no coincidences in God’s world; the Adversary had come when the Church was at its weakest, but also at the point when it was preparing to break out as a potent force once more. ‘Evil is determined to prevent our resurgence,’ the bishop had said, ‘and so it is down to us to ensure that Evil does not triumph. We are God’s champions at a time we thought was always in the distant future. But it is now, and we cannot fail, and with our Lord beside us, we shall not fail.’
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