by Myatt, Ben
“Look up at this big bastard,” he said. “Gets shot in his big battle, gets pickled up in a barrel of brandy, and they put a statue of him on top of a big pole. I could do all of that.”
“Yeah, but you'd have to get shot, Johnny,” said one of his colleagues.
“That might not be so bad. Least it means I don't have to go back to my wife!”
The group laughed at the joke, and continued drinking. As his brain began to succumb to the sway of alcohol, Dunham squinted up at the statue once more. The light of the lanterns around the square no longer seemed to reach it, and Dunham frowned. Atop the column the pigeons were slowly unfurling themselves from sleep, their heads cocking to the side as if listening to a sound the soldier couldn't hear. Despite the darkness, the birds took to the air, flapping their wings and circling around the granite column.
Dunham watched, a sensation of dread building in the pit of his stomach. Slowly, he began to back away from the column, his eyes looking for any shelter. There was none. As he turned he began to run for the distant cover of the national gallery, its columned facade seemingly miles away.
The first pigeon hit the ground next to him with a sickening, splattering thud. Adrenaline booting him into unruly sobriety, Dunham sprinted, dodging left and right as the birds thumped into the ground around him. He dived headlong between the columns as more pigeons slammed into the ground, their small bodies bouncing with their momentum.
Dunham looked back across the square with wide eyes, at his colleagues. They were slowly starting to move towards him, their hands raised into the air to ward off the feathered assault. One of the soldiers stumbled and fell under the barrage as bird after bird slammed into his back. As he fell on his face, a final bird slammed, beak first, into his head. The sharp beak scored through flesh and bone, and he screamed. Another pigeon landed on his back and began to tear at the ruined flesh around his skull, digging into the wound with claws and beak. He heard the screams from around the square as others were caught in the flurry of birds attacking from the skies.
Dunham hunkered down against the doors of the gallery, his staring eyes watching as bird after bird slammed down from above, leaving bloody smears on the paving.
***
In Whitechapel, the pubs became scenes of violence. In itself, this was nothing unusual, but when the first knife was drawn it became more than the usual brawl and, instead, descended into a blood bath. It changed even more when the pub's customers began to seize the broken shards of glass scattered around the room and use them to slit their own throats.
***
On London Bridge, two gangs of youths engaged in a pitched battle, pounding each other to death with clubs. The police initially tried to stop them. And then – as the darkness took root inside them – they began to join in, their truncheons joining the chaotic melee.
Those that survived the initial brawl threw themselves into the Thames, their bodies vanishing out to sea.
***
A Beefeater on duty at the tower of London was overwhelmed by the sudden urge to kill the ravens. The ravens, however were overwhelmed by the sudden urge to kill their erstwhile guard. It was the ravens that came out top of the battle. Strangely, however, they did not abandon their posts, instead choosing to resume their vigil over the tower, their hunger sustained by the Beefeaters flesh.
***
And so it spread, a tide of darkness flowing across the city, bringing violence and horror in its wake. Some were affected instantly, giving in to their baser desires. Other managed to shut it out, and close their doors, turning on all the lights in the house to keep the darkness at bay.
London blazed with lights that night, huddling within a cocoon of luminescence as the darkness spread through the streets, seeking minds that would bend to its intentions. It was not malicious in and of itself, but it sought its twin darkness in men's souls, the seed at the heart of all the evil men do.
And no-one does evil quite like humans.
The Guild of mages could probably have stopped the chaos, had they had a leader capable of guiding them. But their current leader was more interested in consolidating his power base than aiding the people of the city.
***
“We need to seal the Guild,” Cameron said sternly. “Whatever is out there, we do not have the power to combat it.”
“But...” began Joyce Emerson, the head of magical research, “The city is in chaos, Mr Cameron! We can't leave those people out there! Our duty...”
“Our duty is to fight another day, Joyce!” Cameron almost screamed. “Now do as you're damn well told, and seal the damn building! That's an order.”
The tousle-haired, rather mousy researcher raised herself up, and looked into the councilmans eyes.
“With all due respect, Mr Cameron, you don't have the authority to give me orders – and it is my belief that the city is in need of our aid. We all swore an oath to defend Britain, sir, and I will not break it now.”
Cameron hit her. He was a tall man, and strong, and his punch sent her reeling across the room. As she came to her feet, he levelled a finger at her, and let loose a blast of energy. The bolt took Joyce in the chest, lifted her off her feet, and slammed her into the wall. She fell to the floor and lay there, unconscious.
Cameron's eyes, the spark of madness burning deep within them, swept over the council members. He raised his hand, and stared at them.
“Seal. The Guild. Now.”
One of the younger councilmen began to rise, and Cameron blasted him back into his seat.
“I gave you all an order. Do as you're told.”
The members of the Guild council shared a look. Doris Markham, one of the oldest members of the council, glared impotently at Cameron.
“We will do this, sir, but understand that it is under protest.”
She placed her hand on the table, and glanced around her fellows. Each of them, including the young man Cameron had assaulted, placed their hands on the segment of the round table before them. The gold hub at the centre of the table began to glow.
***
Outside the Guild building, the empty street was free of observers. Had there been people outside, they would have seen a light golden haze rise from the paving stones around the building, creeping up the side of the stones like ivy, coating the windows in a golden sheen.
The Guild had sealed itself from the outside world, becoming a bastion against the darkness. But with all the most powerful mages in London sealed inside, there would be no-one left to face the darkness.
Cameron, however, had already made the mistake of discounting the agents of the Order of Britain.
Chapter Four.
Callum glanced down the hallway, and then back towards his colleagues.
“Alright, Cameron has sealed the Guild, because he's a bloody idiot. We need to get to Clarence.”
“I really don't like this idea, Callum,” Gordon said. “You're talking about a high mages challenge – that hasn't been done in seven hundred years.”
“If you've got an alternative, I'm open to it,” Callum muttered.
He glanced down the hallway again, watching the guards outside Clarence's rooms.
“Right. Let's do this.”
He focussed, and muttered a spell under his breath. As if he'd never been there, he vanished. Gordon let out a breath, and stepped into the corridor, walking purposefully towards the ex-chairman's quarters. One of the guards glanced at the bespectacled little man and frowned.
“What are you after, Gordon?”
Gordon shrugged, and raised his briefcase.
“Papers for Mr Somerby to sign.”
“What, now? With the Guild sealed off and all that chaos outside?”
Gordon gave him a wry smile.
“Do you really expect Mr Cameron to let me stop working, even with everything going on?”
The two guards shared a look, and laughed.
“You make a good point, Gordon. We have to search the case, is that okay?”
/>
“Of course.”
Gordon held the case lengthways, and popped the clips. The lid sprang open to reveal sheaths of paper.
“God almighty, what is all this?” the guard asked.
“Transfer of accounts, authority statements. You know what it's like, any change around here generates paperwork.” He smiled.
“Rather you than me. Alright, I'll let you through.”
Her pushed open the door, and Gordon entered the room. Clarence was sat at his desk, meticulously writing notes on a sheet of paper. He looked up as the researcher entered, and smiled.
“Ah, Mr Daltrey, how good to see you.” He glanced at the guard. “Thankyou, Roger. You may go.”
The guard nodded, and exited the room, shutting the door behind him. Clarence settled his bulky frame back into his chair, and steepled his fingers.
“And now, Mr Drake, if you would care to drop that cloaking spell?”
Callum appeared in the room, fading into view as if emerging from the fog.
“You knew?” He asked,
“Of course I did. In some ways, my boy, you're rather predictable. Can I ask what you're doing here?”
“We need to get out of the building,” Callum said. “I thought you might be able to help us with that.”
“I assume your usual methods are unavailable?”
Gordon nodded.
“Mr Cameron has sealed the Guild. We're cut off.”
Clarence's eyes gleamed.
“Is that so? Ah well.” He heaved himself to his feet. “I was rather hoping to get a day or two of rest out of Cameron's little coup, but needs must when the devil knocks, I suppose.”
He gestured to the fireplace, and the flames immediately vanished, replaced by a shimmering white portal.
“Is that a voidgate?” Gordon asked in surprise.
“It is,” Clarence said, calmly gathering up a few personal items.
“And where does it lead?” Callum asked.
Clarence shot him an amused glanced.
“Take a good look at my girth, Callum. It leads to the kitchen, of course.”
***
Maggie looked up and rolled her eyes as the fireplace in the kitchen transformed into a glowing white portal. Clarence stepped through, and smiled at the cook.
“After a midnight snack are we?” she said acidly.
“Not this time, Maggie. I come bearing gifts.” He stood aside and allowed Gordon and Callum through. Callum glanced at Gordon.
“Go tell Nathaniel and Elizabeth where I am, and get yourself set up in the office. If we're going to stop this, we need to get moving.”
Gordon nodded, and headed off through the door.
“A good man, that one,” Clarence noted.
“One of the best.”
“Alright, you're here now, what next?” Maggie asked. “If you think you're going to hide out in my kitchen, you've got another thing coming.”
Clarence smiled and gave her an awkward bow.
“Far be it from me to inconvenience you, dear lady,” he smiled, “But I'm afraid I at least need to remain here until I see the Order on their way.”
“And then?”
“And then there shall be a reckoning,” Clarence said, his eyes grey as flint. “Cameron has betrayed the ideals of the Guild – ideals I hold dear. I shall try to reason with him, and if that doesn't work, I shall take other actions.”
Maggie sat at the table, her fingers tapping on the surface.
“I'm not sure he's going to listen to you, Clarence.”
“Neither am I, Maggie. But I have to try. I don't wish to simply force him to adhere to my way of thinking.” Clarence smiled. “That's more Wallace's style anyway.”
The three glanced up as Nathaniel and Elizabeth entered. Nathaniel grinned as he saw Clarence.
“I gather you've had a change of heart?”
“It seems my services are still required, and so the Guild calls upon me once more. Rest assured, I shall make sure things are turned right again.” He said the words with a twinkle in his eyes, and then he gestured towards the back door.
“For now, though, lets turn you three loose.”
He walked over to a seemingly innocuous flagstone at the side of the kitchen. Kneeling down, he tapped on it three times, paused, then tapped thrice more. The stone floated up as if it was a bubble, and gently moved to the side to reveal a ladder leading down into the darkness. He looked up at their surprised faces.
“Did you really think I wouldn't know a way through the sealing spell? This leads down through the foundations to the sewer. You should be able to make your way to the street from there.”
He stood up, and smiled grimly
“I'm afraid we won't be able to offer you much in the way of support, my friends. Even if I manage to convince Cameron that he's in the wrong, the sealing spell takes about six hours to close down. Once you're out there, you're on your own.”
Nathaniel nodded, and extended his hand. Clarence shook it, and turned away.
“You'd better get moving. I have my own work to do – and Callum, if all else fails, remember exactly who you are.”
“What does that...”
But Clarence had already entered the voidgate, and closed it behind him. Callum shook his head.
“I hate it when he does that.” He tapped his finger to his earlobe. “Gordon, are you set up?”
“Ready when you are.”
The trio of agents smiled at each other.
“Best get moving then.” Elizabeth said.
***
The sewer stank, as sewers are wont to do. Nathaniel and Elizabeth gagged as they reached the bottom of the ladder where Callum stood, revolver in hand.
“How can you stand this?” Elizabeth asked.
“I've smelt worse,” he shrugged. “Shall I take the lead?”
Elizabeth nodded, and unlooped her carbine from her shoulder. Above them, the flagstone slipped quietly back into place, a golden sheen covering its surface. Nathaniel raised his hand, palm up, and summoned a glowing ball of light.
“You really need to teach me that trick,” Callum grinned.
“I suspect it may be rather too subtle for you,” the brown-haired man replied, a grin on his face.
They set off through the stinking miasma, looking for the next ladder that would take them to the street outside the Guild. Elizabeth tried to close her nose, or at least to ignore the stench as they wandered alongside the stream of effluent.
“This is truly ghastly,” she said.
“Try not to think about it.”
“I'm trying, but that's damned near impossible,” she grumbled.
A faint movement at the end of the tunnel caught her eye, and she raised the rifle.
“Movement ahead.”
They paused, readying their weapons.. no further movement came, and they advanced.
There was a brief metallic glint in the darkness ahead, and Elizabeth raised her rifle again.
“Did you...”
“I saw it too,” Callum said. “Nathaniel?”
The tall agent nodded and sent the ball of light down the corridor. There was no-one there, but leaning against the ladder was a bow. It was elegantly carved from tempered yew, and bound in silver. Next to it was a quiver full of arrows.
“That is not what I expected to see,” Callum said. He knelt next to the bow, and gently laid a finger on it. It seemed to subtly vibrate under his touch. He frowned and stood.
“It's definitely magical, but I'm damned if I know how it got here.”
“Perhaps we should leave it here then. I can barely use a gun, never mind a bow,” Nathaniel replied.
“I can use it,” Elizabeth said quietly. “I learnt when I was younger.”
They glanced at her, then at each other.
“I'll take any help we can get,” Callum said, hefting the bow and passing it to her. As she took it in her hand, it seemed to fold in on itself, becoming a narrow baton of wood in her hand.
“That's different,” Nathaniel said, an edge to his voice.
Elizabeth said nothing, instead tucking the folded bow into the belt of her trousers. She looped the quiver over her shoulder, and glanced up at the ladder.
“Shall we?”
Callum shrugged, and began to climb the ladder up to the street. He pushed aside the sewer covering, and lifted himself out into the fresh air.
The street was abandoned, the lights in the lanterns high above sputtering in the late night air. Callum holstered his revolver, and helped Nathaniel out of the manhole, then lifted Elizabeth out.
Wordlessly, they headed off into the streets of London, heading for the centre of the darkness.
***
Clarence calmly walked through the halls of the Guild, the heels of his shoes clicking on the stones of the floor. His face was calm, almost amiable, but anyone who looked into his eyes would have been terrified of the fury that lay deep within. Those who knew him would also have noticed the purpose of his walk as he headed for the council chamber.
The chamber was abandoned when the rotund mage entered. The council members, having given into Cameron's demands, had convinced their new leader to go and get some sleep. Clarence smiled grimly to himself, and headed for his traditional chair – facing the door directly and, more importantly, it was the seat of the chairman. He made himself comfortable and began to read his annotated copy of “Magics consequences.”
He settled himself in to wait, thumbing through the much loved book. The door popped open briefly, a guard looking into the room, backing slowly out, and scampering off down the hall. Clarence ignored him, seemingly focussed entirely on his book.
He didn't even glance up when Cameron burst into the room, his grey hair tousled and sleep still in his eyes.
“What the hell do you think you're doing?” the councilman snapped.
“I should think that's obvious, Wallace. I'm taking back my place as chairman. There's a funny little part of our rules that says if the man who replaces an active chair proves to be unsuitable for the role, the previous chair can resume his position.”
Clarence delicately closed his book, and laid it gently on the table. When he looked at Cameron, his eyes were cold.