by Jodi Taylor
I gestured at the stones. ‘They are weak. Their power is diminished.’ I pointed at Alice Chervil. ‘And she is not yet the Mother. You still have a chance at a normal life. I will destroy them. Stand aside, Becky. Please.’
They stared at me. Black eyes in long white faces. Nobody moved. No one made a sound. Even Alice was silent.
We all looked at each other. I could feel my heart pounding in my chest, but the longer they stood without moving, the less likely they were to be hostile and the more likely they would see sense and let us go. It wasn’t too late for them. So I told myself and still the silence dragged on. Their colours were flat. Almost motionless.
I stood, waiting, willing them to disperse. They would, I was sure of it. There might be some muttering but the crowd would break up. They would make their way back across the green to the safety of their own homes. I had Michael Jones watching my back. I had Jerry – any time now. I had Iblis – possibly. And I had the dead, waiting silently in the woods for me to deliver their revenge. This could be nearly over.
And then Veronica laughed and my feeble optimism fled. ‘What can you do against the power of the stones?’
I moved slowly sideways until we were face to face, about twenty feet apart.
‘I can bring them down.’
Her colour flickered. Just for a moment, and then reasserted itself. She was confident. She was on her home ground. She had the power of the stones behind her while I had …
Something small and white floated gently through the air and fell softly to the ground in front of me. At first I thought it was ash from the bonfires but it wasn’t. It was a tiny, tiny snowflake. And then another. And another.
This was a warning sign which I should heed because nothing good ever happens in the snow.
A few more flakes drifted silently to the ground. I heard someone say, ‘Is it snowing?’
I should stop. I should stop right now before I lost control again and more people died. Pain slashed behind my eyes. I ignored it. I could do this. I had to do this. As long as I was careful ... There is a balance to maintain. There must always be a balance. Last time I’d lost the balance and everything had ended in death and darkness. This time I would be more careful. This time it would be different. This time I would control it. I tried to fill my mind with strength. There was great evil here and driving it from the world was more important than my life. And Jones’s life as well.
I walked slowly to Becky’s stone. The Maiden. It watched me approach. I could feel its eyes on me.
I said to Becky, ‘Stand aside,’ and reached out and touched the stone.
I heard Jones shout, ‘Cage, what are you …’ and then his voice was cut off suddenly as if someone had slammed shut a door and he was on the other side.
The world flickered. Black. White. Black White. Black. White.
And then, suddenly, everything was different.
Chapter Twenty-Nine
The shock of the cold made me gasp. The air was biting and I was only in summer clothes. The world was flickering. Black. White. Black. White. Like a broken film. A wave of sickness rolled over me and I closed my eyes, fighting nausea and vertigo. A few deep breaths of cold air cleared my head a little until I felt well enough to open my eyes and look around.
I was standing up to my ankles in snow. Everything here was either black or white. Black trees caked in white snow. A black sky dense with white stars. A lost, lonely, black and white world in which nothing moved. Thick with silence, except for the desolate song of the wind.
I knew at once that I hadn’t gone anywhere. I still stood in the same hollow. The same woods were still up there. Thicker and wilder and much closer, but the same woods. The same two-horned moon hung in the sky.
I turned. And wished I hadn’t.
This world wasn’t just black and white. There wasn’t just the white silence of the snow. Or the dark light of the night. There was red as well. Lots of it. There was red blood everywhere, wet and glistening and soaking into the snow.
About twenty feet away stood a small … I shall say hut, although that really was too grand a name for it. Four rough posts had been rammed into the ground at odd angles. The walls were made of stones, turf and scrub, all jammed together and held with mud. The low, flat roof was covered with thick snow through which tufts of frozen dead turf showed. A low doorway led down into darkness and the unknown. There was a small fire burning at the entrance. I assumed it served the dual purpose of heating the hut and keeping out anything stupid enough to think this looked like a desirable dwelling. The smell of animal fat, blood, excrement, damp stone and sour earth was overwhelming.
And that was the whole world. Just white, and black, and red.
I became aware of them at exactly the same moment as they became aware of me.
There were three of them, crouching over something that had once been a man. He lay, sprawled on his back in the scarlet snow, his long hair and beard tangled in blood. His face was turned towards me, contorted in the terror that must have been the last thing he ever knew in this world. There was the familiar gaping wound across his throat. Like a bloodless smile. He had been ripped from his crotch to the bottom of his rib-cage and his innards spilled, red and purple, across the snow.
I would have known they were from Greyston. Here were the familiar long, white faces and the unnervingly pale eyes, ringed with dark ash from the fire. The three of them were wrapped in foul-smelling skins and furs that can have done very little to keep out the cold. Their thick, greasy hair hung in elf locks, braided with twigs and feathers and all held in place with blood. Their feet, blue with cold, were cut and bruised.
That they must have been starving there could be no doubt. They were little more than skin and bone. Their empty breasts dangled pendulously, splattered with fresh blood. Their mouths were red with it. Their arms were bloodied to the elbows as they rummaged inside for the soft bits. They pulled and snatched and gobbled and went back for more and any thoughts I might ever have had of dealing them mercy or compassion disappeared as if they had never existed. This was an evil from the beginning of the world and it must be destroyed. I had a sudden picture of Iblis, hair flying, sword in hand. Well, he wasn’t here, but I was.
I was certain this sorry excuse for a shelter occupied the exact spot where the stones would stand. This was where it had all begun. This must be when it had all begun as well. I remembered the story. The three women. The passing man who had saved them. He had cared for them and they had killed him. Their first victim. The first of so, so many.
And here they were. Right in front of me. The first ones. The Mother, the Maiden and the Crone, who would survive, in one form or another, from this moment right down to the present day. These were, I was convinced of it, the living personification of the stones. Renewed from year to year. Only not this year. This year there had been no blood and they were weak.
Weak or not, they were stronger than me. And there were three of them.
They looked up at me, jaws still working. We all regarded each other for a long time. I could see what they were thinking. Very slowly, they stood up. The youngest reached for a knife. A sickle-shaped affair that looked very familiar.
All right, I wasn’t a man, but this was a long, hard winter and I was still food.
They stood in front of me in their traditional formation. The Crone to one side, the Maiden to the other, and the Mother in the middle. She was pregnant. The man had fulfilled his function and could now be discarded. The long story of blood and death had begun here. It could end here as well.
The world still flickered around me. Black. White. Black. White. Like a broken film. Their evil faces came and went. White – they were twenty feet away. Black – I could see nothing. White – they were ten feet away, red mouths gaping. Black – I could see nothing. White – they were gone. Black – I could see nothing. White – three stones gazed down at me. I could see their faces within them. These were living stones.
And then, wit
hout warning, I was back in the right world – dazed and sick. Again, I staggered. For a moment, dark light still filled my vision and I could see nothing.
Veronica’s voice was gloating. ‘You see now why we have nothing to fear. They live on in the stones. They are indestructible. They are our protection. The man is ours. You will die tonight. There will be blood and everything will be as it was before.’
My voice was hoarse. ‘I will stop you.’
‘You are only one.’
‘Excuse me,’ said Jones and the dark light fled. His voice brought back light and sunshine and warmth. And he was right. I wasn’t alone.
She smiled but there was no amusement. ‘Well, since you insist upon it – two.’
And at that very moment, almost as if he’d been awaiting the perfect moment to make his entrance, Iblis himself appeared from behind the Mother stone. He walked slowly into the circle and when he was certain every eye was upon him, flung wide his arms and smiled that smile. ‘Well hello, ladies.’
I couldn’t take it in. I stood there like an idiot wondering where on earth he could have come from. My only consolation was that I wasn’t the only one. Everyone stood frozen, staring at Iblis, dressed as usual in combat trousers, T-shirt and boots. His white-blond hair blew around his face, even though there was no wind. He stood – no, he didn’t – he posed in front of the stones, hands on hips, tossing his hair, fully aware of the sensation he was causing and thoroughly enjoying every minute of it.
Only one person wasn’t too stunned to move.
‘Just a wild guess,’ said Jones to me, ‘but I’m thinking this must be your Billy Goat Gruff.’
Iblis looked him up and down then turned to me. ‘Why is he holding a naked woman? Can I have one?’
‘Get your own,’ said Jones.
‘All right,’ said Iblis. He turned to smile that smile at me.
‘Not her.’
Iblis turned to me. ‘He’s not as exciting as you would have me believe.’
‘Cage, who is this person?’
‘I am Iblis,’ he said, ‘Smiter of Foes, Man of Steel, Man of
Infinite Resource, Terror of the Old World, Bringer of Strength. And you, I believe, are …?’
‘Jones.’
‘Just Jones?’
‘Just Jones.’
I was feeling better with every second. With Iblis here, we had a fighting chance. A more than fighting chance.
Alice Chervil’s face was congested with fury and lack of oxygen. Heedless of Jones she swung her head to Veronica. ‘This is all your fault.’ She was nearly crying with rage and frustration.
Veronica ignored her. Drawing herself up she made a gesture towards the other women. ‘What are you waiting for? There are only three of them.’
For a second nothing happened and then they began to close in. Not a mad frenzied rush but an altogether much more sinister one step at a time. They were tightening the circle one step at a time.
Not fast enough for Veronica. ‘What are you waiting for? They’re unarmed.’
‘Well, actually,’ said Iblis, and reached over his shoulder. I didn’t see it happen but the next moment he had four feet of glittering steel in his hand. He did one of those complicated figure-of-eight things so beloved of the makers of sword and sandal films.
The women halted uncertainly.
‘For Heaven’s sake,’ shouted Veronica, which I thought rather inappropriate, ‘it’s just a sword.’ Apparently willing to sacrifice any number of her followers, she shouted again. ‘It’s just a sword. It’s not as if he has a gun.’
‘Yes,’ said Jones. ‘You’re right. It’s just a sword.’ He looked over to Iblis and said complacently, ‘But I have a gun.’
Iblis shrugged. ‘Where is it then?’
‘Well, I have my hands full at the moment.’
‘Yes, I don’t understand. Why would you waste your time on this one …’ he gestured at Alice, ‘when you could have this one.’ He grinned at me.
I could only be grateful for the gathering dusk which hid my burning face.
‘Good point,’ said Jones and pushed Alice away from him as hard as he could. She stumbled and nearly fell over her robe, still lying on the ground.
‘Cage, come and stand by me.’
I skirted Alice, hastily pulling her robe around her, careful to give her a very wide berth but as it turned out, it wasn’t me she was interested in. It was Veronica who was her target. Without even bothering to fasten her robe, she threw herself at her, shrieking incomprehensibly. Veronica held her ground, standing calmly and, as she came within range, fetched Alice a backhander that knocked her to the ground.
I winced. There had been a great deal of pent-up dislike behind that blow.
Alice lay, crying and beating her hands against the ground in fury and frustration. Veronica flung her one last contemptuous look and reached out and touched the Mother stone for power. It was working. I could see her colour strengthening and brightening. Pointing at me, she began to intone words I didn’t understand. Nothing seemed to happen, but I felt my heart slow and flutter. The world darkened around me.
I heard Iblis say to Jones, ‘Would you excuse me for a moment.’
‘Be my guest.’
Iblis began to run. One, two, three steps. He leaped high into the air. For a moment, he was silhouetted against the horned moon and then, raising his sword high, two-handed and with the full force of his body, he smote – there really is no other word for it – he smote the stone a massive blow.
Sparks flew, brilliant against the night sky and his sword shattered into a hundred glittering pieces. But it had served its purpose.
The stone screamed. Loud and long. A dreadful cry of malice and hatred that hurt my head, my heart, hurt everything. The sound echoed around the village, up the hill – and into the woods. A great gout of blood spurted high into the air, black and stinking, falling back again to drench both Alice and Veronica. They screamed too, but their cries were swallowed by the death cry of the stone.
Slowly, ponderously, with the sound of ancient roots being torn from the earth itself, the stone tipped, hung for a long moment, defying gravity, and then toppled. I had a brief glimpse of a familiar face, struggling to emerge. Old beyond belief. Hair still braided with the blood of the first man. Malevolent. Evil. Its mouth gaping in an impotent, ear-splitting scream of death.
Everything happened in slow motion. Veronica stood, literally petrified. Alice sprawled at her feet. They both looked up as the massive stone toppled forwards. Its shadow fell across them. They screamed – the last thing they would ever do – and then the whole enormous monolith crashed to the ground, crushing them both into the earth. One arm, Alice’s I think, was all that could be seen. Her fingers curled into her palm like a child’s.
The impact made the ground jump beneath my feet and as it did so, the smaller stone, the Maiden, lurched sideways. I grabbed the still screaming Becky and dragged her out of the way as that too, crashed to the ground.
For a very long time, nothing moved. No one moved. And then Joanne stepped up. I was reminded of that Hydra thing where you cut off one head and another takes its place. Or two heads. I couldn’t remember and at that moment I didn’t think it was that important. Shock and hatred and fear were written across her face.
‘You will die for this.’
Jones stepped forwards. ‘I have a gun. I will use it.’
Joanna smiled an unpleasant smile. ‘And I have a small army. You cannot kill us all.’
Now. Now was the moment. I felt it. From the woods they called to me.
‘You may have a small army, I said, softly. ‘But I have them.’
I pointed up the hill to the woods.
The dead were clearly visible now, standing under the trees. Even Jones could see them.
Iblis grinned. It wasn’t a nice smile. ‘There is a power here which will destroy you utterly. Let these people go and you may live a little longer.’
‘You are mak
ing idle threats.’ But her colour was shot through with fear. She could see them. Row upon row of dead men. Their numbers far outweighing those of the living.
He shook his head. ‘Last warning. Let these people go. Now.’
Still she would not give in. ‘Why should we? We are protected.’
‘Your protection has gone forever and they are waiting. Look.’
We all looked. The dead were emerging from the woods to stand in an unbroken ring around the village, as immovable and silent as the stones themselves had been. Some were more shadowy than others. Some of the old ones were very shadowy indeed, but none-the-less dangerous for all that.
Jones caught my arm and pulled me behind him. ‘Are they who I think they are?’
‘Yes. You’d better stick with me.’
‘It’s all right, Cage. I won’t let them hurt you.’
‘That wasn’t quite what I meant.’
Becky was still screaming. Many of them were still screaming. One turned and ran. Another followed her. Hysteria was everywhere.
‘Don’t run,’ I shouted. ‘Don’t try and leave. You can’t get out.’
‘Oh, I don’t know, said Iblis, casually. ‘Let them run. Who cares?’
That focused their attention far better than anything I could have said.
Voices bombarded him. ‘Why? Why not? Who are they?
What do they want? Why can’t we get out?’