The Devil in green

During the 'great silence' that followed compline, when the brethren retired to their cells, there was only the raucous talk of the knights and guards echoing through the vast, empty spaces. But as the brothers emerged at midnight for the night office, it was obvious word had circulated quickly: spirits were high and chatter was animated. The might of God had once more been evidenced; a blow had been struck against the Devil.

Mallory was uncharacteristically dismal. He felt out of sorts, unable to divine his own feelings, detached from his fellow knights. Only Miller appeared to hold some doubts, but Mallory certainly couldn't talk to him. All he knew was that something felt intuitively wrong.

It was an instinct that appeared to be reflected in the weather. The moment the Fabulous Beast had crashed to the ground, dead, the temperature had dropped a degree or two and a powerful wind blew up from the east, battering the cathedral and howling amongst the eaves as if in mourning. Flurries of snow began to fall shortiy after. More, the air itself seemed to taste different, bitter; Mallory hoped it was just the ashes from the burning buildings.

The knights were all cheered as they entered the cathedral. Many could barely hide their pride, though the Blues remained as emotionless as ever. They stood at the rear of die nave, shoulders thrown back, staring into the shadows above the quire, while Stefan climbed into the pulpit.

'Tonight we have achieved a great victory,' he intoned in a powerful voice that filled the cathedral to its roof. 'We have defeated the great

Serpent, the Adversary in the form that tempted Adam and Eve in the Garden, the source of original sin. Defeated!' His passion brought a ripple of admiration from the congregation.

Mallory had decided that he disliked Stefan intensely, but he was forced to admire the new bishop's ability to manipulate through his oration. He had a commanding sense of moment, knowing exactly the right words and tone to control the emotions of his audience.

'And this tremendous victory is all down to our brave knights!' he continued. 'With minimal arms, they plumbed the depths of their courage to crush the force of Evil.'

Mallory was bitterly amused at this interpretation of their actions.

'We have shown today that we can meet the forces of darkness head-on, and that with God's light shining at our backs we can overcome anything the Adversary places in our way. This has been the first step in establishing the new Kingdom of Heaven on earth.'

He continued in that vein for five minutes, playing word games, delivering rhetoric, slowly building hope and optimism amongst the browbeaten brothers. But then there was a subtle, unannounced change in his tone; his face grew more grave.

'To carry out the Work of our Lord as He intended, we need to be pure of heart,' he said, moving his gaze slowly across the congregation as if he were looking at each one individually. 'We need to be a shining example to all who see us: the most devout, the purest of thought, the clearest of conscience, unsullied by the corrupting material world so that the Lord's light shines out of us, so that all who see us will have something to which they can aspire.'

There was a long pause while he waited for his words to sink in, but he didn't stop pressing the attention of his cold, dark eyes on the worshippers. 'To that end, we will be instigating more intensive religious instruction amongst your duties. There are many different branches of the Church under this roof, which has made worship understandably fragmented. With the help of the Chapter of Canons and some of the elders, we will be attempting to bring homogeneity to services and ritual so that we can be as one.' This brought a faint murmur of disapproval, which Stefan didn't appear to hear. 'It has also been noted that there have been… failings. In some quarters, even piety is a quality in short supply. And some stand in direct opposition to the teachings of Our Lord. Yes, even here. There has been indulgence in drink and blasphemous talk, in the sins of the flesh when the gates were open and in the sin of sodomy since the gates have been closed. Prayers have been abandoned; the Great Work of God has been allowed to wither. That cannot be allowed. We must be strict with ourselves, for if we are not, how can we ask others to obey the Word?

'It was always my belief that we are custodians of our own path to God. Now, in my new role, I see how naive I was. Some of us need help along the way. Some of us need guidance. We are all children in the eyes of God. And in that spirit, I feel it is my duty to put temptation out of harm's way. From this day, alcohol is forbidden, as are all narcotics, natural and man- made. They corrupt the senses and lead even the most devout into the arms of Satan.'

Stefan checked some notes on the lectern before him.

So many rules he has to write them down. Mallory thought.

'Fornication will not be countenanced,' he continued. 'But the wrath of all good, honest men within these walls will be reserved for those who commit sodomy.' Mallory cast a furtive glance at Daniels; he kept his face blank. 'For them, there will be no respite.'

He left a long silence before continuing. 'The temporary closure of the library will now be permanent. Only authorised books will be available, and then only to authorised tutors. I'm sure you will be happy to be relieved of this burden, whereby impure thoughts and ideas are allowed to sully your minds, often before you realise what is happening. I have investigated the contents of the library in depth, and I was horrified to discover many Satanic texts amongst the books. These are not only dangerous to the minds of novices, but are also doorways that allow Evil into the very heart of our community. Therefore, they will be taken out to the main gate and burned at the earliest opportunity, to act as a message to the Dark Forces gathered beyond our walls. We are pure; our light shall not be dimmed.'

The list continued: music, apart from plainsong and devotional hymns, was banned, as were all forms of technology because they 'promoted a mindset in opposition to God'. Mallory couldn't tell if the majority of the congregation agreed with Stefan or was angered; all response was muted. But he sensed they had been so worn down by recent events that they couldn't be bothered to feel strongly one way or the other. It was too much detail, minor compared with the struggle of staying alive. Best to let someone else take those kinds of decisions so they could concentrate on the day-to-day hardships.

Stefan finished his long speech with a warning. 'To ensure that these new guidelines are treated with the correct respect, any transgressions will be met with the most serious punishment. I feel that is only right. The system of punishment will, of course, be transparent and will be overseen, once again, by the Inquisition of Heretical Depravity. Through discipline we will grow closer to God. That is the way it has always been, though we forgot it for a while, and that is the way it shall be from now on.'

Mallory wanted to laugh out loud, but as he looked around for others who had got the joke, he saw only deathly seriousness. And in some, worryingly, he saw faint smiles of appreciation.

There was one hopeful moment. Just as he left, Mallory looked back to see Julian, James and some of the others gathering at the rear of the nave. Their mood was easy to divine. They were as appalled by Stefan's repressive dictum as he himself was, and they weren't about to let it stand.

Miller caught up with him as he made his way back to the dormitory, head bowed against the wind that brought increasing flurries of snow. It was already starting to settle on the grass and cobbled path, adding a ghostly counterpoint to the brooding darkness of the cathedral buildings.

'What did you make of that?' Miller asked breathlessly.

'What did I make of it? I think he missed a trick by not having a torchlight rally and a marching knight honour guard.'

Miller looked at him askance, then, as usual, gave up trying to comprehend his friend. 'He seems to have a strong idea of how to move us forwards.'

'When you say us, Miller, I have this worrying feeling that you mean me as well.'

'What is it with you, Mallory?' Miller said, with annoyance. 'Why do you have to act as if you're not with us?'

'I'm not.'

'Then why are you here? What's your motivation?' He sounded at the end of his tether; events must have been getting him down more than Mallory had guessed.

'The only thing that's driving me now is to get out of this place and put as many miles between it and me as possible.'

'That's all you care about?'

'Yep. Self-preservation. Don't knock it — it's been driving evolution since… well, since for ever.'

Miller shook his head in disbelief. 'Nobody can stand alone, Mallory. You need us.'

'And then you woke up.'

Daniels came running up, skidding on the snow-slick cobbles. He had a hunted expression.

'You OK?' Mallory asked.

'Looks as though I've turned celibate.'

'Could be worse,' Mallory said. 'He could have made you shag Hipgrave.'

Daniels forced a smile, but it barely hid the anxiety eating away at him. 'Where do we go from here?' he said, shaking his head.

Mallory was woken roughly from a deep sleep. He'd resisted the promptings of the others to go to the lauds of the dead, despite Stefan's warnings about what would befall those who missed their daily quota of prayer; he had felt more tired than he had done in weeks. He'd been having a very lucid dream about Sophie who appeared extremely upset about something, although he couldn't quite remember what it was. All he could recall were her tears and her distressed voice repeating, 'You just don't know what you've done!'

For the first few seconds, Mallory was disoriented, but then he gradually realised Miller was next to him in a state of near panic. 'What's up?' he mumbled.

'Come on! You're needed!' Miller's face looked white in the gloom. 'He's dead!'

Mallory dragged on his clothes and boots in a daze while Miller jumped from foot to foot near the door. Eventually, he pulled himself together enough to ask what was wrong. Miller was rushing ahead of him so quickly that they were outside before he got an answer.

'Julian's dead,' Miller said tearfully. 'Murdered… just like Cornelius.'

The announcement came as a real shock to Mallory. Cornelius had always been a distant figure to him, but Julian was someone he could almost understand. 'When?'

'Just after the night office. They found him in the Trinity Chapel. Lord… there was blood everywhere.'

Miller wouldn't, or couldn't, tell him any more. They sprinted into the cathedral to find Daniels and Gardener standing at the entrance to the chapel. Just inside, Mallory could see Stefan and Blaine in deep conversation with Hipgrave. He began to speak, but Daniels waved him silent. The mood was grave.

Mallory waited silently with the others, casting glances into the chapel. He couldn't see the body from his vantage point, but there were blood splatters across the floor and up the walls. Eventually, Stefan led the others out. He immediately fixed his attention on Mallory.

'You weren't at the lauds of the dead,' he said.

'He was sick,' Miller interjected. 'He needed to rest.'

Stefan accepted this without comment. 'No time must be lost,' he said, turning to Blaine. 'This cancer must not be allowed to spread.'

He stalked away, head bowed, hands behind his back, a picture of grief; on the surface, Mallory thought. It was a coincidence too far for Julian to be murdered just as he was clearly preparing to offer some form of opposition to Stefan and the changes he was planning. Perhaps even Cornelius's murder wasn't as they had been led to believe.

Blaine broke off a whispered conversation with Hipgrave and departed hastily. Hipgrave came over, his eyes gleaming in the candlelight. 'We're going after the bastard who did this,' he said, with the eagerness of a young boy. 'There's a trail of blood leading into the new buildings. We're the only ones who can do this. I convinced Blaine to give us the chance.'

'Thanks,' Mallory said sarcastically. 'It could be a trap, you know. A trail of blood… doesn't sound very realistic.' He recalled die manner in which they had been led across Salisbury Plain to Bratton Camp by the illusory cleric.

'Do we have to go at night?' Miller said weakly. 'Into that place?'

Hipgrave was too excited to hear any dissent. He spun on his heels and marched towards the cloisters, one hand already on his sword, the other holding a lamp he had brought with him.

'It's a trap,' Mallory said resignedly.

'Then it looks as if we're off to die.' Gardener marched off behind the captain.

The blood was already turning dark as they followed the unmistakable signs down into the tunnels beneath the new buildings. The atmosphere was even more oppressive than on Mallory's previous incursions; it felt as though people were walking just a few paces behind them, fading into the gloom whenever they turned to look. Sometimes noises would come and go, footsteps tracking them or voices entreating them to deviate from their route, or so it seemed, but the distorting echoes continually took the truth away from them. They kept close together, Hipgrave at the front, Mallory watching their backs, all aware the threat was growing.

The splashes of blood showed up clearly on the worn stone flags in the lamplight. Hipgrave knelt down to examine them at regular intervals. 'This is going to lead us right to him,' he remarked. 'Good as if he'd fastened a rope to himself.'

'What do you think we'll find when we catch up with him?' Miller's voice was small and frightened.

'You saw the state of the bodies,' Gardener said gruffly.

'The more important question,' Mallory said, 'is why did he kill Julian? Cornelius, OK — he was the figurehead. Whatever his motivation, you could make a good case for Cornelius being a target. But Julian — he wasn't a power any more.'

'Just random,' Daniels said. 'They were both in the wrong place at the wrong time.'

'Too much of a coincidence,' Mallory replied. 'Two of the Church's leading figures killed by chance? I don't believe it.'

'You can't expect to understand the Devil's thinking,' Hipgrave's voice floated back.

They came to a branch in the tunnel. Two flights of steps wound down in different directions. Hipgrave hovered uneasily, moving from one entrance to the other. 'I can't see any blood here,' he said eventually. 'We should split up into two groups.'

Mallory pushed his way forwards. 'No, that's what it wants.'

' "It?"' Hipgrave repeated, puzzled.

Mallory shifted uneasily. 'The building. Or whatever's behind it.'

Daniels reached out uneasily to touch the stone walls. 'You've lost it, Mallory,' he said, but he sounded very unsure.

'You're saying something's organising the layout of the place?' Gardener said.

'I don't know what I'm saying.' He tried to find the right words. The darkness down the stairs appeared to be sucking at them, as if it was alive. 'I've seen some strange things… What something looks like might not be what it is.'

Gardener was intrigued. 'So what you're saying is, this bloody big heap of stone might not be a building at all. That's just the way we see it-'

'That's the only way we can see it,' Mallory said. 'Our brains aren't developed enough to see its true form, so they just do the best they can.'

'So it could be alive,' Gardener continued.

'It could be alive. It could be anything. I think down here we shouldn't jump to conclusions just because our eyes and ears are telling us that's the way something appears.'

'You see,' Daniels said, 'when they did that campaign, Just Say No to drugs, they should have wheeled you out instead. Problem solved.'

'This isn't getting us anywhere,' Hipgrave snapped. 'Which way do we go? Right or left?'

A cold blast of wind soared up from the depths, carrying with it what sounded like the growl of a wild animal.

'What was that?' Miller said tremulously.

Nobody answered. After a while, Gardener said, 'We take the right- hand path.'

'It's as good as any, I suppose,' Mallory said.

Hipgrave's earlier confidence had faded with his inability to choose the correct path. His eyes continually darted around and he had taken to rubbing his palms together anxiously. The others turned to Mallory.

'Let's go,' he said.

The right-hand stairway spiralled downwards steeply. They had to go slowly, for Hipgrave's lamp kept disappearing around a turn, plunging the rest of them into darkness. Water dripped incessantly from the stone above them, and the air was dank and cold.

When they reached the bottom, Mallory drew his sword. The others followed suit as they moved along a short passage to a doorway. Beyond it, the room glowed white in the lamplight.

'What's that?' Miller's voice was filled with dread.

Gardener peered past him. 'Old bones.'

It was the ossuary. Mallory felt they would have ended up there whichever path they had taken. Hipgrave hovered on the threshold, seemingly afraid of entering.

'There used to be a graveyard around the cathedral,' Gardener said. 'They flattened it when they landscaped the grounds.'

'I don't want to go in there,' Miller said.

'Well, you can always go back. On your own.' Mallory pushed past Hipgrave and entered. As the lamp rocked it sent shadows of skulls and protruding bones dancing across the walls.

The remains were heaped against opposite walls, leaving a path between them. Hipgrave had grown sullen-faced and quiet, so Mallory took the lamp from him and led the way. A clatter came from the rear: Gardener had kicked away a thigh bone. 'I keep bloody catching myself on them,' he said.

Mallory progressed slowly; occasionally an icy breeze would bring grunts or moans from the tunnel ahead. Off to his right, he glimpsed something glittering green amongst the bones before losing sight of it again. Behind him, Gardener cursed; another clatter.

'Go slow,' Daniels cautioned unnecessarily.

The lamp swung; the green glittered again. 'What is that?' Mallory said.

'What?' Miller said anxiously. 'What? I can't see anything!'

'Calm down,' Daniels snapped; nerves were fraying.

Gardener had dropped back further, swearing profusely under his breath. The green was so incongruous amid the yellowing bones that Mallory was intrigued. He drew to a halt and began to search amongst the pile to see what it was.

'Don't waste time with that,' Daniels said.

Hipgrave had started to make a strange noise in his throat that sounded like the mewling of a kitten. 'For God's sake shut him up,' Mallory whispered with irritation.

The green light glowed again as the illumination from the lamp struck it. Mallory leaned forwards over the bones to get a better look, careful not to touch the precarious pile for fear of bringing it crashing down.

A pair of green eyes stared back.

Recoiling in shock, Mallory brought his sword up sharply, but the bones were already erupting in front of him as the concealed figure thrust its way out. He smelled loam, saw the black of a clerical outfit and then the grasping hands clawing towards his face blocked most of his vision. The lamp went flying, crashing on to its side, still alight.

Across the piles on both sides, more figures emerged, grotesque spectres throwing larger shadows that swooped and struck like crows. Bones showered all around. Mallory recognised the ghostly things they had glimpsed in the wine cellar, now given unpleasant substance.

Gardener's muttered curses turned to an exclamation of horror as bony fingers grasped his ankles tightly. Some of the other bones — the ones that still had some skeletal shape — were moving with a life of their own. They dragged themselves out on splintered metatarsals, sending shanks and ribs cascading, jaws sagging, skulls lolling.

Mallory tried to throw the thing off him, but its strength far exceeded its frame as it tried to force stinking rough-paper fingers into his mouth. Somewhere Miller was squealing like a baby. Sparks showered through the dark as Gardener's sword crashed against the flagstones in an attempt to chop up the bony limbs gripping his feet. Whether by luck or skill, only Hipgrave had escaped. Lithely, he vaulted one of the attacking figures, then dropped low and scurried out of the far door. As he passed, Mallory glimpsed a face transformed by the flickering light into something almost bestial, eyes glinting with a primal determination.

Only Mallory's sword had any effect on the revenants. They shied from the blade's sapphire glow until they could find another path of attack, but they didn't relent. Mallory was forced to move back and forth, defending both himself and Daniels. Beyond, Miller was already down with three of the things forcing their fingers into his mouth; it looked as if they were trying to tear off his jaw. Rigid with fear, his eyes were wide and tear-streaked.

Mallory attempted to get to him, but before he could make contact with any of the attackers something crashed into his waist, knocking him to the ground. The breath was smashed from his lungs, purple flashes bursting behind his eyes as the weight of one or more of the things crushed him down.

When his vision cleared, Miller's mouth was ripped open as wide as it would go; Mallory heard the cracking of his jaw. A cowled, skull-like head hung barely an inch from Miller's lips as if it were ready to kiss him. And then it did press forwards, not kissing, but forcing itself into his mouth.

Mallory at first tried to convince himself it was some bizarre optical illusion — the head was so big, Miller's mouth so small — but somehow the thing's face was disappearing between Miller's teeth. Mallory felt a sickening sense of failure when his friend's terrified eyes flickered towards him, pleading desperately, as if Mallory were the only person who could ever save him.

While Daniels and Gardener fought their own batdes, he could only watch as the revenant rolled on to its back while somehow keeping its head pointing in the same direction. It was eerie and sickening at the same time. And then it gradually melted into Miller's body until it was he, and he it, the features a bizarre hybrid of the two.

At that moment, the other things stopped fighting and quietly retreated to the edges of the ossuary; the dead bones clattered to the floor, their newfound life lost.

Mallory pushed himself to his feet and advanced on Miller with Daniels and Gardener close behind, but the thing and Miller had merged seamlessly.

'It's possessed him.' Gardener's voice was an awed whisper filled with religious dread.

'Why have the others backed off?' Daniels looked around nervously.

'Hear me!' A voice boomed out across the ossuary, so unfeasibly loud and distorted that it took Mallory a while to realise it was coming from Miller's mouth.

'This sacred land has been corrupted,' the voice continued, 'and with each passing day it is corrupted more. When we had life, we raised God's standard on this acre. We built this shining beacon of devotion, and now your actions threaten to tear it down! Our sleep has been broken to warn you… turn back before all is destroyed!'

The echoes died away until the only sound in the ossuary was the guttering of the torch. In the gloom around the edges, Mallory could just make out the other things waiting motionlessly.

He looked from Daniels to Gardener, then stepped forwards. 'Are you warning us about the enemy outside the walls?' he asked.

The force of the reply made him take a step back. 'The enemy within! God's Kingdom is built on purity, not lies and murder!'

He exchanged another glance with Daniels and Gardener. They urged him on. 'What do you want us to do?'

'We will not see all we believed in destroyed. We will not have our eternal rest interrupted. Your actions have dragged us back to this foul place from the Glory of God! We cannot return to the sublime beauty until this perversion has been averted. You must stop this corruption… or we shall exact our vengeance on those who do the Devil's work… eye for eye, tooth for tooth, hand for hand, foot for foot.' The tone brought coldness to all of them. 'Take this warning back with you. Let the perpetrators know… we are watching. Time is running short.'

Mallory asked who the perpetrators were, but this time there was no response. Instead, the hybrid Miller-face grew fluid, then ran like oil. Slowly, the thing that had possessed him rose out of his body. It detached itself foot-from-foot, then drifted past Mallory as if he wasn't there; a faint coldness tingled his skin on the side against which it brushed. The other things followed it in a mute, eerie procession through the far door.

When the last had departed, Mallory and the others started as if waking from a daze. They turned quickly to Miller who was heaving himself into a sitting position, sobbing gently.

'It felt as if I had a rat in my stomach!' he said as Mallory helped him to his feet, keeping one hand on his shoulder for support.

'What's going on here?' Mallory said angrily. 'It's like this one spot is being turned inside out… Things that shouldn't be alive turning up… buildings coming out of nowhere…'

'The Devil's directing all his powers against us,' Gardener muttered. 'He doesn't want us to-'

'Shut up about the Devil!' Mallory snapped. 'Those bastards were talking about something inside the cathedral. The enemy within.''

'The one who killed Cornelius and Julian, of course,' Daniels said.

Before they could debate the matter further, they were disturbed by a blood-chilling howl, part animal, part man, echoing from the tunnel ahead.

'Lord,' Daniels said. 'Hipgrave!'

Mallory snatched up die lamp as they ran into the tunnel with Daniels propelling a disoriented, still gently sobbing Miller. The echoes of screeches and cries were sickening to hear.

The tunnel opened into a vault which the echoes suggested was enormous. The roof was supported at regular intervals by crumbling stone pillars. The floor was hard-packed mud punctuated by large pools of water that had dripped from above. The atmosphere was cold and sodden, but the more eerie thing were the flickering torches intermittently fixed to the pillars.

'Who lit them?' Daniels whispered.

A shiver had run through Mallory when he entered the vault. He glanced back to see a thin blue line crackling along the threshold, the barrier between their world and what lay beyond. He was suddenly caught between conflicting impulses. They were only truly safe on the other side of that line. Yet Hipgrave lay somewhere ahead, perhaps wounded, possibly dying.

'Look!' Miller exclaimed.

Almost lost in the shadows across the vault, there was movement. At first it looked like a man, then a beast on all fours, then an amorphous cloud that gradually developed wings and tentacles and sharp edges before disappearing into the gloom.

'Back,' Mallory said.

'No.' Miller caught at his shirt. 'We can't leave Hipgrave.'

'He's a vindictive little shit. He deserves what he gets.' Mallory didn't meet Miller's eyes.

'We can't judge him. That's what the Bible says — we're not supposed to judge. We're all sinful in one way or another.'

'Speak for yourself.'

Miller let go, backed away. 'No, not you, Mallory,' he said sarcastically. 'But the rest of us.' He looked to where the shape had disappeared. 'Well, I'm going anyway. I have to.'

'Don't,' Mallory ordered. 'You stupid bloody idiot. You won't stand a chance.'

Miller set off across the vault while Daniels and Gardener watched Mallory judgementally. Mallory half-turned towards the tunnel, then cursed under his breath. 'Oh, all right then. But if he's in pieces, you carry them back.'

They caught up with Miller, then progressed slowly back to back, watching for an attack from any direction. Miller suddenly called out, 'Over there!'

They could just make out Hipgrave slumped at the foot of a pillar, unmoving. He was still alive but in a daze, his eyes roaming the darkness; and he didn't even notice they were there. He clutched his ribs, but Mallory could see no sign of a wound.

'Hurry up, let's get him back to the tunnel,' he said.

Hipgrave stirred at the sound of his words and responded in a hoarse, detached voice, 'There are things down here…'he began. 'Not trying to get in… to keep us… from getting out.'

From somewhere, a cold breeze blew. They all looked around but could see nothing apart from the shadows dancing at the behest of the torches. A second later, Gardener pitched forwards, clutching at his forehead. Blood splattered across Hipgrave's face.

'Bloody hellfire!' Gardener cursed. He removed his hand to see it was smeared red; a thin line had been traced from temple to temple.

'What was it?' Miller whimpered.

Something moved through the vault, just beneath the arched roof. Mallory saw it only as a fluttering shadow travelling so fast it could easily have been a trick of the torchlight. There must have been another one, for Daniels snapped his head around, puzzled.

'Now can we get out of here?' Mallory said sharply. Just as he turned towards the tunnel, he felt a subtle change in the air currents that signalled the rapid approach of something unseen. He jerked his head to one side. Something tore at his hair and was gone in an instant. As it passed, he heard something, or thought he did, that sounded like a distorted human voice whispering his name.

Daniels crashed across Hipgrave, holding the back of his head. When he rolled over, dazed, Mallory saw a red patch where part of his scalp had been torn away.

Rapid movement broke out in several areas of the vault at once, rushing towards the five of them; the attackers were like giant bats but with otherworldly elements that couldn't be discerned in the half-light.

Mallory swung his sword instinctively, clipping one of the flying creatures. A high-pitched squeal was followed by a rain of liquid and the thud of something hitting the ground.

'Shit!' Daniels exclaimed. 'How did you do that?'

'What can I say — I'm fabulous.' Mallory spun around to strike out at another dark streak, missing it completely. 'But not all the time,' he added.

The death of the bat-creature acted as a spur to the others, which screeched from all directions at once until the air was filled with a flurry of shadows.

Daniels managed to help Hipgrave to his feet, though the flying things tore their flesh with claws and fangs until they were slick with blood. Mallory's frenzied hacking spun him around and the wild activity of the bat-creatures obscured his vision. At one point he realised Miller was near him, desperately trying to fend off the attacks with his inadequate sword- play. As they were driven across the vault, Mallory saw that Daniels and Gardener had dragged Hipgrave into the opposite direction towards the tunnel.

Finally, a wall came into view. Mallory and Miller edged along it, claws tearing through their cloaks and shirts. After a desperate moment they found another tunnel and dived inside.

Mallory had expected to fight a rearguard action all the way, but the moment they left the vault, the bat-creatures dropped back. He didn't question it.

'Come on, they've gone.' He pulled Miller upright; tear stains cut through the blood on his face.

'I can't cope with all this, Mallory,' he said. 'I'm not strong like you.'

'Nobody likes a whinger, Miller. Pull yourself together.' It was said affectionately enough to bring a weak smile to Miller's face.

'Where are the others?'

'They got driven the other way, back the way we came.'

'This isn't the right tunnel?' Miller's voice cracked.

Mallory could see that there was no thin line of blue separating the worlds; they were still on dangerous ground. 'Let's see where it leads us,' he said as emotionlessly as he could manage. He ducked briefly into the vault to pluck a torch from the wall, then led the way ahead.

They continued for fifteen minutes, the tunnel branching at regular intervals until they lost track of the labyrinthine layout.

'Catacombs,' Mallory said to himself. 'We could be down here for ever.'

'We could say a prayer,' Miller ventured.

'Don't be so bloody stupid.' He fiddled with the hilt of his sword, then said reluctantly, 'Oh, go on, if you want to.'

He marched on ahead while Miller muttered behind him. In a little while, they came to a short flight of steps leading up to a doorway with a carved surround depicting the sun, the moon and stars.

'See?' Miller said.

'Coincidence, idiot.' Mallory cautiously climbed the steps. At the top, the doorway opened on to a large domestic room. A log fire roaring in an enormous stone fireplace provided the only source of light. A wooden chair as big as a throne sat before it, while the walls were covered with shelves of books and heavy tapestries. It was so incongruous after the bleak places they had passed through that it brought them up sharp.

'Who lives here?' Miller asked nervously.

Mallory advanced into the chamber cautiously, transferring the torch to his left hand so that he could draw his sword.

'I don't like this,' Miller said. 'We should go back.'

'I thought you prayed for a way out. You can't throw back the gift just because it doesn't meet your expectations.' Mallory knew it was a cheap shot and he resolved not to bait Miller further.

They made their way to the centre of the room, but couldn't see any other way out. 'There,' Miller said. 'We have to go back.'

Mallory had to agree, but there was a soothing atmosphere to the room after the cold and shadows of the tunnels. As they turned to leave, the heavy tramp of footsteps approached. Miller blanched, looked to Mallory. They both glanced towards the doorway, but the sound didn't appear to be coming from that direction.

Disoriented, Mallory looked around in time to see one of the tapestries on the opposite wall being thrust back. A man at least eight feet tall was emerging from another tunnel. At first, Mallory couldn't make out his features — it was as though his eyes were running — but the shape of the frame was undoubtedly that of the killer that had pursued himself and Hipgrave in the tunnels.

Brandishing his sword, Mallory backed away until he realised that Miller was rooted to the spot. 'Come on,' he snapped, but Miller only had eyes for the giant now striding towards them.

As he closed on them, the features became clearer: long hair the colour of coal, a thick beard and black eyes that glowered beneath overhanging brows. He wore a shift made out of something like sackcloth, held tight at the waist by a broad leather belt. A thong bound around his left forearm was fitted with several mysterious hooks, which Mallory guessed had caused the scraping sound he had heard on his previous visit to the tunnels.

'One more step and I'll chop you into hunks,' Mallory said. He didn't know how realistic that threat was. Although the giant wasn't armed, he looked strong enough to have torn apart Cornelius and Julian.

Surprisingly, the giant stopped, though he didn't appear in the least bit frightened by Mallory's threat. 'Ho, Brother of Dragons.' His voice echoed like a slamming door.

'Stay back,' Mallory warned, unnerved that the killer had called him by the same name he had been given in the Court of Peaceful Days.

'Who are you?' Mallory was startled by Miller's small voice at his back.

'I am the Caretaker,' the giant boomed. 'I walk the boundaries of this place of reverence. I watch over the fabric, close some doors, open others. I turn on the lamps of hope in the dark of the night, and extinguish them when dawn's light touches the sky. I keep this place safe from those who would assault it. I keep it safe for all who come here, by whatever route, from whatever place, whether hope or despair rules their hearts. I am their servant.'

'I'm warning you,' Mallory said. He was considering a guerrilla attack to disable the giant with a couple of strikes, before beating a fast retreat.

'Sheathe your sword, Brother of Dragons. You have nothing to fear from me.'

'I don't think he's the killer, Mallory,' Miller whispered.

Mallory wavered. 'I saw you before. You tried to attack me and my friend.'

'I tried to warn you, Brother of Dragons. In these times, this place can be dangerous to your kind.'

There was a cold, almost alien note to the giant's voice that was distinctly unnerving, yet behind it Mallory sensed honesty. He cautiously sheathed his sword.

'Where did you come from?' Miller asked, calmer than at any time since they had ventured into the tunnels. The peaceful atmosphere of the room had increased several notches since the Caretaker had entered.

The Caretaker appeared not to understand the question. 'This is my place,' he said with a shrug. He motioned towards the fire. 'Sit. Shake the cold from your limbs.' He brought over two stools, then lowered himself into the wooden chair.

Still reeling after all the running and fighting, Mallory and Miller tentatively took their seats, but were thankful for the fire. As they warmed their hands, they kept a cautious eye on the giant. The Caretaker's unwavering gaze made Mallory uncomfortable, yet something about the easy mood the giant radiated made Mallory feel he couldn't have fought even if he had wanted to. Mallory's tension seeped away until he felt he could have slept if he closed his eyes.

'I had not expected to see a Brother of Dragons in this place,' the Caretaker said eventually.

'Somebody else called me that,' Mallory said. 'It must be the sword.' He pulled it a little way out of the sheath so the giant could see the dragons entwining on the hilt. 'It's borrowed.'

The Caretaker smiled as if this was the most ridiculous thing he had heard. 'The sword would not have come to you if you were not a Brother of Dragons,' he said warmly. 'I see it in your heart. The sword only answers that.'

Miller looked at Mallory with widening eyes. 'He's talking as if you're special.'

'I'm not special.' Mallory looked away from him into the fire. Though the logs blazed, they didn't appear to be consumed.

The Caretaker shrugged as if it were of no import and settled back into the chair, staring blankly at the shadows above the mantelpiece. In the soporific atmosphere, they sat in silence while Mallory and Miller tried to put the experience into some kind of context.

It was Miller who found the courage to question the giant first. 'What is this place?' he asked.

The Caretaker appeared to respond to the deference in his voice. 'You are a Fragile Creature,' he began. 'Your world is one of constraints, where things are fixed, immutable. This place is not of your world.'

'So we're someplace else? We've been transported? Like in Star Trek?'

'That's right, Miller. Now ask him if he thought Voyager let down the franchise,' Mallory said tardy. He was still ruminating over what the Caretaker had said about him being a Brother of Dragons: could someone with his past really be some kind of mystical champion without him realising it? When he considered it like that, it was more than laughable, but both Rhiannon and the Caretaker appeared convinced. Just thinking of it made him feel queasy, as if he had no control over his life.

The Caretaker placed his fingertips together and stared into the space amongst them. 'This place lies between your world and the Far Lands. It lies amid all possible worlds. It lies within all worlds. It encompasses all worlds.'

'Well, that explains everything,' Mallory sighed.

'Oh, Mallory,' Miller complained. He turned back to the Caretaker. 'But it came out of nowhere,' he said. 'One day it was just here, attached to the cathedral we knew.'

'Aye. It would seem that way.'

Gradually, the Caretaker's words began to strike a chord with Mallory. The giant appeared to be suggesting that there was a benign aspect to the new buildings, as if the manifestation wasn't connected to the oppressive presence beyond the walls. 'Why did it appear?' he asked pointedly.

The Caretaker eyed him. 'You have decided to rejoin the conversation, Brother of Dragons?' Mallory looked away. 'It was, in a way, summoned, or dragged, or manifested. Your home… your Church… has always been a place of power. The Blue Fire has flowed through it since the beginning, fuelled by the wishes of worshippers, and fuelling them in return. Yet now it is like a wellspring of the lifeblood of Existence. Its light shines across all time and all place, too powerful by far, warping the very fabric, altering the Fixed Lands and the Far Lands, calling the dead back from the Grim Lands. Too powerful for you Fragile Creatures. It will make you sick.'

Mallory considered this new information. What could have made the earth energy stronger, and how was it linked to everything else that was happening? At least it explained the ghosts from the ossuary that had been glimpsed around the cathedral. Yet he felt uncomfortable that the spirit-energy was powerful enough to call them back from what the Caretaker called the Grim Lands.

'But what caused the power to get stronger?' Miller echoed Mallory's thoughts. 'And why does it look like our cathedral? Only bigger. And scarier.'

The Caretaker didn't answer, but a notion came to Mallory as he pondered the question. 'That's just the way we see it, right?'

'We all build cathedrals for our aspirations, Brother of Dragons,' the Caretaker said enigmatically.

'And you're with it, wherever it's found,' Mallory said. 'Some kind of universal sacred place.'

'I am the Caretaker.'

'Then who's in charge?'

'I don't want to hear,' Miller said to Mallory. He looked queasy. 'This is doing my head in. I can't understand what it all means!'

'What it means,' Mallory said slowly, 'is that something happened at the cathedral that brought this place to us, and now it's affecting all of us.'

'Then it has nothing to do with the Devil?' Miller looked at the Caretaker. 'You don't work for the Devil?'

'He doesn't work for the Devil,' Mallory said.

'And he doesn't work for the killer?' Miller covered his face with his hands. At this, Mallory looked to the Caretaker; in his eyes there were stars, whole galaxies.

'You must look to your own kind,' the giant replied.

Miller raised his head to fix his attention on Mallory. 'One of us?' His voice was almost comical with disbelief. 'Not a demon? How could someone from the cathedral commit those… horrors?'

'You're a man who obviously knows everything,' Mallory said to the Caretaker. 'Care to tell us who we're looking for?'

'Since the Battle of London, my kind have sought to distance ourselves from you Fragile Creatures. Your affairs must remain your own.' The Caretaker stared into the fire in deep thought for a while before adding, 'Look to your hearts, Fragile Creatures.'

'So we're no closer,' Miller said dismally.

'Look to your hearts,' the Caretaker repeated. The imperative in his words prevented his comment from being seen as a throwaway line. A wheel began to turn in Mallory's mind, pulling notions out of the dark.

Despite the warmth of the fire and the calm atmosphere, the Caretaker put Mallory on edge; though the giant appeared human, an alien aspect lay just beneath the surface that made him unpredictable.

Mallory decided it was time to go. He rose, choosing his words carefully. 'Thank you for your hospitality, but we have to return to our own kind.' Miller jumped to his feet eagerly.

The Caretaker nodded slowly, watching Mallory so intently with those glimmering eyes that it felt as though he was seeing right into Mallory's head. 'I am not your enemy, Brother of Dragons,' he said. 'In other times we could stand together in this place and look into the infinite with open hearts.' His eyes narrowed as if he were squinting to see further. 'But there is something broken inside you and Existence will not open up until you mend yourself.'

Mallory shifted uncomfortably. 'Is there a way back so we don't have to go through the vault?'

'There is.' The Caretaker pulled himself to his full height. 'You must be careful if you venture into this place again. For the terrible crime that has been committed, there is a desire that you be punished fully. You will never be allowed to leave your refuge, I fear. Even here, powers circle to keep you contained.'

'We've done nothing wrong. Really,' Miller pleaded. 'There's no reason why we're being made to suffer.'

'There is always a reason,' the Caretaker replied, 'even if you cannot see it.'

'What is the crime?' Mallory asked.

'The crime is against Existence.'

For the first time the conversation brought some emotion to the Caretaker's face and it looked very much like distaste; Mallory did not pursue it further.

The Caretaker took them to the doorway through which he had entered. 'Follow this way. Do not deviate from the path,' he said, holding the tapestry back. 'It will return you to your home.'

They hurried away, but as the Caretaker faded from view, his voice floated after them. 'Cure yourself, Brother of Dragons. Existence and all its wonders await you.'

They emerged in the cloisters soon after. Snowflakes shimmered against the night sky, the stonework glittering with a coating of frost. When they glanced back, the doorway through which they had emerged was no longer there.

'So we know something happened in the cathedral to make the earth energy stronger, and that surge of power brought this place here,' Mallory mused. 'And I reckon it manifested so forcefully that it changed everyone who was here… made them think it had always been this way.'

'But because we weren't around, we weren't affected,' Miller said.

'You know what?' Mallory continued thoughtfully. 'I think all the new buildings that appeared are frightening and oppressive because they're reflecting the mood in the cathedral.' 'Because everyone's hungry and trapped?'

Mallory looked at the innocent hope in Miller's face and caught the words he was about to say. 'If everything was right here, maybe we'd see some kind of shining palace. The Jerusalem that everyone wanted to build on England's green and pleasant land.'

'That would be wonderful.'

'We all get what we wish for, maybe. So even our secret thoughts have repercussions.' That thought frightened him immensely.

They found Daniels and Gardener perched on pews in the nave looking weary and worried. 'We thought you were done for,' Gardener said.

'Where's Hipgrave?' Miller asked.

'He's lost it,' Gardener replied. He looked away uncomfortably.

'You saw what state he was in,' Daniels said. 'After we got him out of that vault he was nearly catatonic. Trying to get him through those tunnels…' He shook his head. 'Suddenly he came out of it like a wild man. Nearly tore my good eye out. It took both of us to pin him down. In the end, Gardener had to knock him flat.' He looked towards the altar. 'The things he was saying…'

'Where is he now?' Mallory asked.

'We got him to the infirmary. Warwick's given him a sedative, but I don't reckon it'll do much good. He's completely gone. There was nothing in his eyes at all. It must have got to him, everything we've seen…'

'He was never too stable anyway,' Mallory said. 'So Blaine's lost one of his captains. What's he going to do now?'

Daniels shrugged. 'We briefed him about what happened, but he wasn't really interested. Something else is going on, I think. I heard the Blues had to sort out some kind of fight in the kitchens. Some idiots trying to get food…'

'This place is ready to blow,' Mallory said. 'God knows what's going to happen when they find out about Julian.'

'So what happened to you two?' Gardener asked.

Miller told them excitedly about the Caretaker and what he had said about the new buildings.

'You don't want to be consorting with the Devil,' Gardener said disparagingly when Miller had finished.

Miller began to protest. 'He wasn't-'

'The Devil always lies.' Gardener's eyes were steely and uncompromising. 'The Bible doesn't have any room for things like that. So it's the work of the Devil.'

'You can't beat logic like that,' Mallory said sardonically.

There was a flash like a drawn blade in Gardener's face. 'You can stand there being smart, lad, but the way things are going there's only two sides and you'll have to be on one or the other. And I'm starting to have my doubts about you.'

'Oh, I'm wounded.'

Gardener held his eye for a moment, then began to clean the mud from his boots with a dagger.

Miller looked to Mallory uncertainly. 'So we can't trust anything he said?'

'We trust ourselves,' Mallory said. 'That's all we can do.'

Mallory spent the rest of the night and half the next day pondering the Caretaker's enigmatic comments, before his thoughts turned to Rhiannon. In the Court of Peaceful Days, she, too, had made obtuse comments that had appeared meaningless at the time. Were they both trying to help him in an oblique way, so that they did not feel they were breaking some kind of agreement that their kind didn't assist Fragile Creatures? The more he considered it, the more he thought it was probably true. Her words were lodged clearly in his mind: Look to learning to understand the conflict. He considered this until, in a flash of inspiration, he had an inkling of what she had been advising.

Mallory feigned illness to avoid going to Peter's Christian philosophy class, knowing it would earn him the wrath of Blaine, but it was the only way he could guarantee that the rest of the knights would be occupied. With all the other brothers dealing with the rigorous day-to-day routine of the cathedral, he would be free to investigate unseen.

He hurried through the snow to the cloisters and climbed the stairs to the library. It had changed considerably since the first time he had been there, now straddling the boundary between the old buildings and the new. On his side, it was just as it always had been, but through the window he could see it progressing into a vast gothic chamber, its ceiling lost to shadows, with bizarre stone carvings that appeared to watch over anyone wandering amongst the racks, lit by sizzling torches and with shelves of books that must have gone up twenty feet or more.

The door was locked, as he had expected, and he knew there was no other point of entry. He hoped he was as good a judge of character as he believed.

He rapped on the glass gently until he saw James approaching. When James saw who was without, he shook his head and tried to wave Mallory away, but Mallory persisted, pleading silently. After a moment, James relented. He slid back several bolts and turned the key before opening the door a crack.

'Are we keeping the gold chalices in here now?' Mallory said.

'The library is off limits.' James was patently ill at ease with his new position.

'Yes, you can't let those books fall into the wrong hands. There might be an awful spontaneous outbreak of knowledge and open-mindedness.'

'What do you want, Mallory?' James said wearily. From the moment he had given Mallory the first guided tour of the cathedral, James had never sounded anything less than good-natured.

'A few minutes of your time, that's all.'

'I'm not joking. No one is allowed in the library.'

'No one? What's the point of having a library, then?' Mallory tried to appear disarming. 'You must be bored out of your mind locked up with only the silverfish for company.'

James couldn't help a chuckle. He leaned out to look up and down the corridor, then opened the door quickly to allow Mallory entrance. Once inside, he drew the bolts and quickly turned the key before hurrying Mallory out of sight of the window.

As they entered the new section, the temperature dropped a degree or two and their footsteps took on an eerie echo that susurrated for an unnatural period. The dark closed in around them, bringing with it the suffocating smells of leather, dust, candlewax, damp paper and great age. Mallory couldn't have raised his voice if he'd wanted to.

James led a maze-like path through the stacks to a table bearing a flask, a Tupperware box containing sandwiches and a hissing lantern.

'Most people have to commit a crime to get this treatment,' Mallory said. James' expression suggested he felt the same way. 'If I didn't know better I'd say they preferred you in here instead of out there.'

James' eyes narrowed and his guard came up a little. 'Who would they be?'

Mallory dismissed the question with a laugh. 'You know what I'm talking about, James.'

James pulled a couple of chairs up to the table and poured Mallory a cup of tea from the flask. Mallory paused when he felt the touch of the plastic lid on his lip. 'This stuff will be antique soon. You'll be able to haggle for it down at die market, along with the polystyrene McDonald's boxes and Perspex shed windows.'

James lightened. 'If I know human nature, we'll be knee-deep in non- recyclable litter again before too long.' He sat back in his chair and surveyed Mallory with a strange smile. 'Now, Mr Mallory, what exactly are you up to?'

'Can I speak freely?'

James sighed. 'I have obligations to the Church authorities-'

'But you… we… surely have a greater obligation to a Higher Power. To the religion itself, and its teachings. And if the Church authorities are working in opposition to that — not consciously, of course-'

'Are you leaping to judgement, Mr Mallory?'

'All I'm saying is that the only thing we have to answer to is that Higher Power.'

'God. Why don't you say God?' He could tell Mallory was choosing his words with caution, but James' attempt to divine his purpose couldn't penetrate beneath the surface. 'This religion operates within a structure. It cannot exist without that structure. By being part of it, we tacitly accept that structure-'

'And what if that structure's wrong?' Mallory pressed. 'What if… God… never intended that structure to come into place? What if that's all politics?'

'What if, what if.' James waved a dismissive hand. 'This is what we have.'

'This is it, right or wrong?'

James bit the inside of his lip, stared along the racks of books.

'How about if we just talk? No harm there.'

James gave a conciliatory smile. 'That would be nice.'

'So let's start with a discussion of comparative theology.' Mallory sipped on the hot, sweet tea — not tea in the true sense, but an infusion of various herbs and spices.

'You're a strange man, Mallory. Why are you interested in these things? Most of your compatriots couldn't care less.'

'Religions around the world are all driving towards a comprehension of a Higher Power. God.' He smiled. 'To an uneducated person, it would seem that the differences between them are only a matter of mechanics. Different vehicles to reach the same destination.' James began to disagree, but Mallory waved him quiet. 'Several religions have things in common, but there's one thing you can find in Eastern and Western traditions: the power of the spirit. Something that might seem from one perspective to be a kind of energy that perhaps could even be quantified one day, from another point of view looks like magic, affecting things separated by great distance.'

James' eyes narrowed. Mallory felt he was on the right lines. 'The religion that existed here before Christianity came… a kind of nature worship, I suppose-'

'You're being disingenuous, Mallory. You know exactly what it is. I'm asking you to treat me with respect and to speak honestly of what's on your mind.'

Mallory nodded. 'OK. I'll be straight. That religion, like the Eastern traditions, believed that spirit-energy existed in the wider world… in the wider universe… and in man. It linked the inner and the outer, above and below. And it believed it ran in channels across the world, along which were established sacred sites where the power was strongest. The stone circles, the cairns, the raised hills. Leys, right? You've heard of leys?' James gave nothing away. 'And along these leys ran-'

'The Blue Fire.'

'That's right. You know about it.'

'Go on.'

Mallory finished his tea. 'I'm guessing there are books here that could tell me all about this.' When James didn't respond, he continued, 'The pagan camp just over the walls… it's here because Salisbury is on a powerful ley, apparently. The Blue Fire here is very strong. And the Christian church decides to re-establish itself here, in Salisbury. Not in Winchester, or Glastonbury. Here. Coincidence?'

'Glastonbury is on a powerful ley. So they say,' James pointed out.

'Now you're being disingenuous. But your answer shows we're on the same page. Anyway, the old Glastonbury site is in ruins. What was needed was a complete structure that could focus the energy. Not a stone circle, but a massive stone building with a spire like a lightning conductor. As far as I know, there's nothing in the Bible that mentions this Blue Fire, yet somebody in the Church knows about it.'

James shook his head firmly, his lips clenched tight.

'I'm a good judge of character,' Mallory continued. 'I'm not saying this to flatter you, because I do have respect for you, but I can tell you're a good man, with the best interests at heart. And I would guess injustice probably gets you down. I would think you wouldn't want to perpetuate injustice, or misdirection, or conspiracy, for whatever reason. Not in a religion that makes so much of truth and honesty and shining the light of righteousness on the world.'

'Why have you come to see me about this, Mallory? Why do you feel that strongly about it? Most people are just concerned with staying alive.'

'Because I think this is about staying alive. I don't know why, or how… it's just a hunch. But there's something going on at this cathedral that's the root of all our problems, and I think it's linked to this.' Mallory tried to be as honest as possible, hoping it would sway James, but it wasn't something that came easily to him. 'I don't know how much you know about what's going on, but I think you have suspicions. I think you're at least uneasy. And I certainly know you want things to turn out well-'

And if you find the information you want, you think you might be able to do something that might help us?'

'I don't know,' Mallory replied truthfully.

'What could you do, Mallory?'

'At least I want to try. There aren't many out there saying the same.'

James' smile was a forensic dissection of Mallory's character. 'That doesn't sound like the Mallory I've heard so much about.'

James sat silently for a moment, then rose sharply and began to prowl back and forth in thought; he looked as if he was tearing himself apart. Finally, he returned to his seat and began speaking animatedly as if a dam had broken. 'This stays between us. I don't know you well enough to know if you do have best interests at heart, but you're right in your assessment of how I feel about the truth being hidden, or glossed over, or bent. But it must stay between us, is that understood?'

Mallory nodded agreement to his terms.

'You talk about conspiracy,' he began. 'Someone once said that the history of civilisation is the history of conspiracy. What you learn… established knowledge… is not always the truth. Secrets lie behind everything we pass down, sometimes big secrets. Everyone thinks they know something of history. The truth is, they know nothing. It is a facet of human nature that the most important actions and events are hidden away so that all we see are their repercussions or the lies designed to cover them. You know this — you can see it in the people and organisations around you all the time, and it was no different in the oldest times, in the same way that we are no different from our ancestors, although we like to think of ourselves as wiser, cleverer, more moral. We know nothing.' He took a deep breath, controlled himself, then spoke in more measured terms. 'I was part of a conspiracy myself, though a benign one. The Christian Church has been filled with them from the start… from the very earliest days. It is the nature of the structure. I was a member of a group called the Watchmen. It was our responsibility to guard certain knowledge — pre- Christian knowledge the Church had assimilated — that could be used when the Fall happened and humanity was under threat.'

'You know what really happened at the Fall?' Mallory asked.

'Some of it, yes. There are worlds beyond our own, Mallory, where strange and powerful beings live. Throughout our history, they have passed back and forth, influencing events here, becoming the source of all our myths and legends. On a previous visit they became the template for the gods of the Celtic nations. And at the Fall they came back again. Their power is unimaginable to us… the world couldn't cope. On that day, all the rules changed.'

'And they're still out there.'

'The first time they came they almost destroyed the world with their rivalries and games and wars. Humanity wasn't going to allow it to happen again. Sometime in the ancient past, we discovered that they were vulnerable to the Blue Fire… that the Blue Fire was a power above everything. That information was encoded in the landscape by many ancient peoples, not just the ones who came to be called the Celts in popular understanding. Secrets in stone, in alignments, a language that did not use words and which only came alive to us when we found the right perception through which to see it. And it was that information that the Watchmen guarded and passed down from generation to generation for whenever it would be needed. We knew about the gods, and the Otherworld they came from, and the secret history, and all the prophecies that went along with it, and we told no one. We had to wait until we were needed, when five heroes would come together to defend humanity.'

'You met the five?'

'Some of them. Good people, though they didn't recognise it themselves.'

'I would say, from a Christian perspective, that this all sounds a little like blasphemy, or at the very least non-canon,' Mallory said.

James sighed. 'Yes, contradictions abound. But not as many as you might think. You are correct in saying that the Blue Fire is not discussed overtly in the writings and traditions of Christianity, but that is not to say that it was not known of and accepted as a central tenet from the earliest times. It was, and it was kept away from general view by those conspiracies buried in the fundament of Christianity.'

'Don't let the common man have too much knowledge… the priesthood might lose its mystique,' Mallory said tardy.

'That approach was necessary when Christianity was attempting to gain a foothold-'

'And now?'

'Now we are trying to gain a foothold again.' He poured himself another cup of tea, his pleasant humour replaced by a seriousness that didn't sit well with him. 'One of the most powerful forces within the Church during its first centuries was a secret group of Christian geomancers. They were well aware of the Blue Fire from ancient traditions and linked it with the spirit of Christianity, and they were responsible for the precise position of churches around the world to take the best advantage of sites where this earth energy was at its most potent. Their greatest influence was during the Middle Ages, during the great period of cathedral building.'

'Geomancers? In the Church?'

'You see? Everyone thinks they know history, but they don't. And this has been well documented.' James went to the stacks and removed a volume. 'Les Mysteres de la Cathedrale de Chartres by Louis Charpentier. Chartres Cathedral stands on a large prehistoric mound over a buried chamber, which Charpentier identifies as a confluence of four streams of this serpentine earth energy, named by him as woivres. A very powerful site indeed, and the Christian geomancers built the cathedral there to be a massive collector of that energy, to empower worshippers and to spread it out into the local area, in much the same way that the builders of the stone circles did. And if you find that hard to believe, I should point out that the cathedral site was also the home of the great Druidic university of Gaul, where ancient wise men were initiated into the mysteries of the Blue Fire. The same place, the same potency, within different belief systems. As you said earlier, coincidence?'

Mallory felt a tingling at the base of his spine; a pattern was beginning to emerge.

'These are the secrets I was privy to as a Watchman — the places of power, the spiritual energy in the land that ties people to it, the importance of it in the Great Scheme,' James said. 'There are books in this library that hint at it, some…' He tapped the French volume, '… that speak of it directly. Guided carefully, a good student could piece together much that has been hidden for millennia.'

'That's why the first Christian churches were sited on pagan places of worship. Not because of some kind of spiritual hegemony, but because those places were a source of tremendous energy that could be used to invigorate the religion. And that's why they keep you locked up here with the books — because you know so much about it. And that story about the siting of this cathedral by the fall of an arrow-'

'It is an allegory that tells of the Christian geomancers' art. Old Sarum was a strongly powerful spot, but there was some… trouble… there, and it was felt this location was even more propitious.'

'So we're all here because of this spiritual energy in the land. And that's why the travellers have set up their camp here as well.' Mallory tried to develop the information James had given him to understand what was happening, but one thought dominated. 'The pagans outside the compound are right: they've been demonised, marginalised, and everything they believe in has been stolen. The Church is a sham.'

'No,' James stressed. 'You misunderstand. The philosophy of

Christianity is unmatched, a powerful, powerful force. It was the first religion to offer the concept of charity, of selfless devotion to others. That cannot be denied. It has had many dark periods… many times when those who profess to be Christians have warped the intrinsic beliefs… but that shining light at the heart of it still shines through. It transcends all earthly transgressions.'

Mallory shrugged. 'Whatever you say, James. But I can't help thinking that a religion that allows itself to be open to corruption is on pretty shaky ground.'

'We are a force for good, Mallory, despite ourselves.'

Mallory could see that James believed this deeply, but he was sick of religion — all religion — with its ability to cause strife and suffering in its wake. 'You're not very good at keeping secrets, James,' Mallory said with a smile. 'I come in here, ask a couple of questions and you blurt it all out.'

'Because I don't believe in keeping secrets. Nobody asked me to. It was implied, but nobody came out and said it. I believe the Church would work better if it put everything out in the open and trusted its followers. But you can't take the politics out of any organisation. That is human nature.' He offered more tea, but Mallory declined; he could almost hear Blaine's fury already. 'You're a good man, Mallory,' James said out of the blue.

'Right. I'm just looking out for myself, James.'

'All of us are two separate people, Mallory. We're the materialistic, rational person on the surface, and we're the ghost inside who moves our hands when we're not thinking. The ghost is the true us, our essence, freed from the petty influences of this world. And your ghost is good, Mallory, I know that.'

'I wish I could have called him up to scare a few people on Hallowe'en. Might have got some more treats amongst all the tricks.'

James laughed heartily and waved him away. 'I enjoyed our little chat. It feels good to get things off one's chest, you know?'

Mallory felt strangely reluctant to leave. The conversation had reminded him of his own life, when he'd had the time and the inclination to ruminate over weighty matters of philosophy; but that was before he discovered how pointless it all was. He was halfway to the door when he turned back. 'Thanks,' he said simply.

'Do your best, Mallory,' James replied. 'We all need a saviour.'

As everyone feared, Julian's death had a terrible effect on the brethren. Whereas before there had been some hope of salvation, the new murder had unleashed a slowly rising tide of fatal resignation. The main target was the cathedral leadership, though few had any workable alternative plans. Dissent was heard on the way to prayers, or over the refectory tables. Furious arguments cropped up regularly, shattering the atmosphere of pious devotion, and on occasion there were even fights. There was a general feeling that death and destruction were only just around the corner.

The mood was not helped by the repeated collapse of the tunnel under the wall, killing two diggers. Accusations of incompetence were levelled; why couldn't the bishop do something about it? Food was running out; there was no time for failure. On the surface, Stefan took the criticism with humility and stoicism, but behind the scenes, subtle and worrying changes were taking place. Unable to carry out their true role, the knights were ordered to patrol the cathedral, dampening down disputes and reporting back to Blaine the names of any troublemakers. Most took this job reluctantly, but some, most notably members of the Blues, accepted it with unfortunate relish. The Inquisition of Heretical Depravity took an increasingly active role overseeing the 'questioning' of the active dissenters. Their offices in the shadowy heart of the new buildings came to be feared, and the inquisitors themselves were only discussed in whispers in case comments were reported back to them.

But the creeping repression was the least of their worries. As December crawled along and a bitter chill set in, the nightly attacks increased in intensity and lasted longer, sometimes until first light. For some reason, the hordes outside had become more successful; walls were repeatedly damaged and much of each day was spent carrying out repairs with rapidly diminishing resources. Against it all was the constant background of fear that the murderer within the cathedral could strike at any time. Nowhere was safe; no one was safe.