The Hounds of Avalon

There are times when the world feels like an irritating distraction, even when buildings are collapsing, blood is flowing and people are crying about the end of the world. Some things are more important. Hal understood that clearly as he made his way along the corridors of Queen’s College. All he could think about was the kiss Samantha had shared with Hunter, how it had been a whole conversation in a single moment, a complex communion of secret yearnings, confused romance, hope, worry, sexual attraction.

It had made him realise that those who live their lives in their heads, as he did, made it easy to deceive themselves. The imagination is a trickster, he thought, tempting with illusions to drag you off the path so he can laugh uproariously at your rude awakening.

In his mind, Samantha had always been the one who would save him from his mundane existence. And now there was no hope of that ever happening. Lost in his dreams he might have been, but he was a pragmatist when faced with harsh reality. He felt colder than the unnatural winter outside, as though every thought he had was laced with frost. So cold that he felt he would turn to ice, then slowly melt away when the thaw came.

Reid’s department filled a vast complex of rooms, all sealed, all silent; a place of unspeakable secrets that gave no hint of their existence; of quiet suggestions that turned the mind to horror; of the brush of fingertips at midnight.

Hal was met by an underling at the entrance to the sanctum sanctorum and led into an area he had never visited before and had never thought he would. He was finally shown into a room with a security system that exceeded anything Hal had seen throughout the extremely secure offices of Government. Reid waited within, talking in hushed tones to Dennis Kirkham. With a troubled expression, the chief scientist examined a sword suspended in a holding frame.

‘Ah, here he is,’ Reid exclaimed when he saw Hal. ‘Will you excuse us, Mister Kirkham? Business.’

Kirkham disappeared in the silent manner that always characterised his comings and goings, and Reid came over to Hal with a faint swagger. To Hal, Reid always appeared to be on stage pretending to be some spy he had seen in a sixties movie; he had charisma, and cool, and a touch of arrogance, but it felt as if it was all hanging loosely over someone else entirely.

‘Look at this,’ Reid said, indicating the sword. ‘We retrieved it from the fellow brought back from Cadbury Hill.’

‘The Brother of Dragons?’

‘That’s the chap. Doesn’t look much like a champion of the human race, I must say, but that’s by the by. I believe, and certainly he believes, that this is one of the three great swords of legend-’

‘Sir?’

‘We’re frantically playing catch-up here, Mister…?’ Reid fumbled for Hal’s name without any sign of embarrassment, even though he spoke to Hal several times a week.

‘Campbell,’ Hal said.

Reid nodded, but didn’t deign to use Hal’s name. ‘The rules have changed, as we all know,’ the spy continued. ‘We can no longer sneer at the supernatural, or magic. Those words simply define something we can’t quite understand at this moment in time. We know that myth and legend, what we thought were simply fairy stories, contain secrets coded into them. Truths. Many of them, pieced together, provide a secret history of what was going on behind the scenes of our illusion of a rational world. Do you understand what I’m saying?’

Hal nodded.

‘The difficulty is deciding what is true and important to us, and what is merely embellishment to make them good stories that will carry those truths through word of mouth over generations. A lot of it is symbolism, one element representing another…’ Reid waved his hand with irritation. ‘Not my department. We have people who deal with that kind of thing. But what I can understand is that it’s a code, and we’re in the process of cracking it.’

He returned to the sword. ‘One of the great British legends is of three powerful swords. Weapons, fantastic, earth-shattering weapons. One is called Caledfwlch, or by another name, Excalibur, with which I’m sure you’re familiar. Another was believed to be consumed by, or filled with, fire, with an implication that its power was corrupted in some way. And this is the third. Our Brother of Dragons was told it’s called Llyrwyn, but that isn’t any name I’ve come across before. And he also appears to be completely unaware of its capabilities. If we can find out how to access that power, imagine what we could do. We certainly wouldn’t be on the back foot any longer.’ Reid’s eyes gleamed.

For the first time, Hal looked around the room properly. Rack upon rack of cases were lined up like a futuristic library. But they did not hold books. There were more weapons — axes, a bow and arrows that appeared to be made of gold, a spear — and artefacts that ranged from the mundane to the bizarre: odd lumps of rock, jewels that glowed eerily, a crystal ball in which fleeting images came and went, a carpet, a mirror with a carved frame of tormented figures, amulets of all shapes and sizes, caskets and boxes, some plain, some encrusted with more colourful jewels, the skull of some beast with horns, a stuffed figure of a tiny man with wings; and those were only the items in Hal’s immediate line of vision.

Reid nodded when he saw Hal’s expression. ‘We’ve amassed quite a collection, haven’t we? My men have been very busy since we received the first hints that the Fall was taking place. You remember what it was like — the failing technology, the seemingly ridiculous rumours of fantastic creatures, then the deaths…’ He shook his head in faux-sadness. ‘I’m not one to blow my own trumpet, but I put this entire project in motion right then. Don’t deny the evidence of your eyes, I told my superiors. Adapt or die. Sadly, they died. But I moved quickly, sending out agents to seize whatever might help us when the time came to fight back. And it is a remarkable achievement. Some of these objects… well, they’d take your breath away if you saw what they could do. Some we will never take out of their security cases. Too dangerous even to touch. We’re working on the others… close to a breakthrough in some areas,’ he said proudly.

Hal’s attention was drawn to a lantern, like an old miner’s lamp, sitting on the top of one display case. A blue flame flickered inside, veering strangely at a sharp angle in one direction. ‘What’s that?’ Hal asked.

Reid examined it, puzzled. ‘I’ve never seen that before. And what’s it doing out of its case? Don’t worry, I’ll get Kirkham to secure it.’

Reid was dismissive, but there was something about the lantern that resonated with Hal. Even as Reid led him away to a case on the far side of the room, Hal couldn’t help but look back. The lantern made his skin tingle, and he felt as if there were feathery fingers probing gently into his mind.

‘You’re probably wondering why I brought you down here,’ Reid said as he came to a halt before a case that contained an eight-pointed silver star next to a stone — Hal assumed it must be the Wish Stone that the Brother of Dragons had retrieved from Cadbury Hill. Reid slipped on a pair of plastic evidence gloves and went for the Wish Stone before diverting to the star. He plucked it out and handed it to Hal. ‘This is an unusual item. What do you think of it?’

Hal was surprised that Reid was canvassing his opinion on anything. He held the star up to the light, which revealed an almost invisible gold filigree covering the star with strange symbols and runes. The object felt oddly warm to his touch, and while his eyes told him that it was an eight-pointed star, his hand suggested a different shape.

‘No idea,’ Hal said. ‘Some kind of talisman? Where did you find it?’

‘A site in Cornwall. We’ve puzzled over it for a while. But that’s a conversation for another day. This is what I wanted to show you.’ Reid put the star back in its case and picked up the Wish Stone. ‘Another artefact this Brother of Dragons was carrying when we found him. He’s refused to answer any of our questions about where he got it, or what it’s for, which suggests it has some importance, but we believe he recovered it from Cadbury Hill. It may even have been his reason for being there. Here — hold it.’

The moment the Wish Stone came into contact with Hal’s skin, crackling blue light surged out to trace a picture in the air of two men next to a tomb, overlooked by a woman. Hal dropped the stone and Reid caught it with a deft movement. ‘Careful!’

‘Sorry. It shocked me. How does it work? What was that scene?’ Hal felt as if he had seen it somewhere before.

‘We have no idea what it represents or what it means, whether it’s something we should be studying or just a distraction.’

‘Why are you showing it to me?’

‘We need you to find out what it is. Do some research — you’re good at that, I’m told.’ Reid’s attention was already wandering; he clearly didn’t care whether Hal found out what the stone was for or not.

‘Do you want me to report directly back to you?’

‘Yes, of course.’ Reid walked away, stripping the gloves from his hands with a loud snap. He turned, raising his finger for emphasis. ‘Don’t say anything about this to anyone else. Do you understand?’

Hal nodded, confused by the mixed signals he was receiving. But the image from the stone was already tugging at his subconscious. He felt instinctively that this was important.

The air had the summer twilight smell of a hot day cooling, of rolling grassland and wild flowers and the tangy musk of distant forests. Sophie stood on the high balcony with Caitlin at her side, looking towards the west. The reddening sun, bisected by the dark horizon, lay against a sky of shimmering gold and flaming orange. Far below them, the Court of Soul’s Ease was quietening as the residents hurried to their homes after a day of business in the bustling, otherworldly city. Yet the evening was not entirely peaceful, for a drone of activity came from beyond the sturdy walls.

Sophie wrinkled her nose. ‘Can you smell that?’ In one hand she gripped a spear she had drawn from the armoury, the tip gleaming silver, the shaft hard wood branded with mystical symbols; it never missed, she was told.

‘Smoke. The fires are starting.’ Caitlin’s weapon of choice was a longbow and arrows.

The moment the words had left her mouth, bursts of red and yellow flared up in the pooling shadows beyond the walls, illuminating what at first sight looked like a mass of swarming ants surrounding the entire city. As the firelight flickered and the shadows washed back and forth across the teeming multitude, it became clear that it was an army of the little men who had attacked Sophie and Ceridwen on their journey to the court.

‘I came here for safety while I looked for an opportunity to get back home,’ Sophie said bitterly. ‘Now I’m stuck here under siege. Mallory probably thinks I’m dead. Goddess knows what else is happening in our world.’

‘I think being in the wrong place at the wrong time goes with the territory,’ Caitlin said quietly.

Sophie cast a secretive glance at her. In the four days since she had arrived in the Court of Soul’s Ease, she had got to know Caitlin very well. A deep sadness filled her, but most of the time she managed to mask it behind smiles. Sophie could easily imagine Caitlin as a GP back in the real world. She cared deeply about everyone, enough to swallow what must have been a toxic amount of grief to ensure that she didn’t make anyone else suffer along with her. That thoughtfulness alone would have been enough to win over Sophie, but Caitlin also had an admirably quiet strength and resilience. Sophie thought that the two of them would probably become friends, given time.

Yet one great barrier lay between them. Sophie was a Sister of Dragons, and Caitlin was not, not any more. It tormented Caitlin in many ways, layering more misery on top of her mourning: she feared that the whole of humanity would pay the price for what she saw as her weakness of character. And the loss of that inestimable quality that set them apart as Sisters of Dragons was as devastating as if she had lost the use of her legs. Probably more so, for Caitlin had confided in her the previous night that it was as if she had been given a glimpse of heaven, only to have it snatched away for evermore. It wasn’t just the strength and healing ability that she missed, but the sense of being connected to the entire universe; she was bereft in more ways than one.

‘Don’t jump — we need you.’

The brash Birmingham accent had become familiar to Sophie over the past four days. Harvey stood in the middle of Caitlin’s quarters, a working-class youth as out of his depth as anyone could possibly get, yet who still acted as if he was heading down to his local. Sophie liked him immensely. Beside him was his friend, Thackeray, a deep thinker who liked to pretend he was a doomed romantic. They had both found themselves accidentally caught up in the events that had brought Caitlin to T’ir n’a n’Og, but for their part had stuck by Caitlin resolutely, giving her the strength to keep going. Thackeray was easy to read; every aspect of him suggested that he was deeply in love with Caitlin, and Sophie had the feeling that Caitlin returned the affection on some level, though it was never discussed.

Harvey shifted uncomfortably when Sophie and Caitlin came in from the balcony. ‘You two freak me out,’ he said bluntly. ‘It was bad enough when she was going all Wonder Woman on us.’ He nodded to Caitlin. ‘Now there’s you as well. Where’s it going to end?’

‘He loves it really,’ Thackeray said. ‘He’s got this fantasy about amazons-’

‘Oi!’ Harvey punched Thackeray hard on the shoulder. ‘That was the beer talking. Anyway, you shouldn’t be repeating what I tell you in confidence.’

‘We found a pub. The Sun. Big surprise in a city ruled by a sun god,’ Thackeray said.

‘They give us free beer,’ Harvey said excitedly. ‘ All given freely and without obligation.’

‘The way we figured it,’ Mallory said, ‘we could either hang around here, getting under your feet and offering less than useful opinions on how the siege could be broken-’

‘Or we could get pissed,’ Harvey finished.

‘Not really a contest, was it?’ Caitlin said. ‘As long as you’re enjoying yourselves.’

‘Before you go castigating us, we’ve got a message,’ Thackeray said. ‘There’s a big war conference wrapping up down in the main hall. And they want to see you two.’

‘Finally,’ Sophie said. ‘They’re going to break the siege so that we can get out of here and back home.’

Thackeray shook his head. ‘I think they’re just going to sit back and wait.’

‘Maybe whatever it is that makes us Sisters of Dragons attracts bad things like this,’ Sophie said to Caitlin as they marched into the great hall.

Lugh was waiting for them, his solar armour burnished red in the light of the setting sun that streamed through the floor-to-ceiling windows. Behind him, Ceridwen waited with a serious expression.

‘It is the Pendragon Spirit that shapes your days and nights, guides you to be where you should, where you are needed. It is the power that binds everything together,’ Lugh said.

‘What did your war conference decide?’ Caitlin asked impatiently.

‘The hidden passage out of the Court of Soul’s Ease is still blocked by… the enemy.’ Lugh still had difficulty considering his own people a threat. ‘The only way out is through the gates.’

‘So you’re going to attack them head on?’ Sophie said.

‘We fear a slaughter,’ Ceridwen said. ‘Many of my people would be destroyed. That is not our way.’

‘It’s the only way,’ Caitlin said. ‘It’s a waste of time trying to talk peace when the other side is determined to wipe you off the face of the land. And you know they won’t settle for anything less.’

Her words clearly rang true with both Lugh and Ceridwen, but the weight of their traditions and culture kept them ambivalent.

‘The battle will come when it will. We know that. We have always known it, but have been unable to face up to what was coming.’ Lugh’s handsome face was filled with a deep melancholy. ‘I regret that you have been caught up in our familial strife, Sister of Dragons.’ Lugh addressed Sophie directly; Caitlin flinched. ‘You should not be here. You are needed elsewhere.’

Sophie noticed a concern in their body language that she had missed before. ‘What’s wrong?’

‘The final days have come. The Fixed Lands are being consumed by the Void, whose true name is the Devourer of All Things. The Far Lands will follow, and all the lands beyond,’ Lugh said.

‘Then it’s started,’ Caitlin whispered.

‘What has?’ Sophie looked from Caitlin to the gods and back.

Seeing Sophie’s mounting concern, Ceridwen stepped forward. ‘The arrival of the Devourer of All Things has always been foretold by my people. It was one of the stories we brought with us when we left the four great cities of our glorious homeland to become wanderers, cut off from the source. “The Devourer of All Things shall come and consume the light.” That story is the sadness at the end of our own tale of dissolution.’

‘You knew about this?’ Sophie asked Caitlin.

‘I knew that the Void had sent outriders to prepare the way, but it could have taken weeks or millennia to turn up.’

‘What are we talking about here? Some kind of monster?’ Sophie asked.

‘The Devourer of All Things is the underside of Existence, bound to it even while constantly opposing it,’ Lugh answered. He held out his arms to indicate the wider world. ‘Existence is everything. All time, all space, all lands. What, then, is the Devourer of All Things, which is the dark reflection of Existence? A monster? No. It is immeasurable, incomprehensible. It is everything, too.’

Sophie and Caitlin stood quietly for a moment while they attempted to understand what Lugh was telling them. Finally Sophie said incredulously, ‘If it’s what you say it is, why aren’t you doing something? What’s the point in being wrapped up in this civil war if everything is coming to an end?’

Lugh smiled, a father explaining the ways of the world to a child. ‘How can you fight everything?’

‘There are two conflicting stories the filid sing on the nights when we reflect on our beginnings,’ Ceridwen said. ‘One is that all we see and feel is the construction of a just and right Existence, and that we are all part of that. The other is that all we see and feel is flawed and corrupted, a prison created by a dark force to separate us from the true glory of Existence. The Court of the Final Word has long sought the truth, and evidence exists supporting both stories. But consider this: what if both are true? What if Existence has two faces, continually turning, and when one looks upon us, the other is alerted and attempts to seize control?’

‘So you’re just going to sit back and let it happen?’ Sophie said.

‘The only way to stop the Devourer of All Things would be to use the Extinction Shears,’ Lugh said, ‘and none know where they now lie-’

‘I don’t care about any of this,’ Caitlin said furiously. ‘If you’re saying that the world’s under some kind of threat, we need to be there, doing what we can.’

‘I understand your desire,’ Ceridwen said, ‘for this is the reason the Brothers and Sisters of Dragons exist-’

‘Is that what this is all about?’ Sophie interrupted. She grabbed Caitlin’s arm. ‘We’ve got to get back. They need us.’

‘They need you,’ Caitlin replied. ‘I’m the one who spoiled it all, remember? If there aren’t five of us, we’re weakened.’

‘We will do what we can, Sister of Dragons, but there is no path back to the Fixed Lands from the Court of Soul’s Ease,’ Lugh said. ‘The war council will continue its debate, and I will make your case for decisive action. But in the meantime there is nothing we can do.’

Outside the great hall, Caitlin grabbed Sophie by the shoulders and said passionately, ‘I want the Pendragon Spirit back. I’ll do anything.’

‘Nobody can bring it back — it’s a gift. You know that,’ Sophie said sympathetically.

‘We can petition Higher Powers. It must come from something, right? These gods, they keep talking about Existence as though it’s alive. We could ask it. You use the Craft. You could try.’

‘I wouldn’t even know how to start. It’s too big, Caitlin. Trying to make that kind of contact would be beyond any mere human.’

‘There are people here who could help.’ Caitlin’s face was filled with desperation. ‘Will you at least try?’

Sophie couldn’t refuse her. ‘All right, I’ll do what I can. But there could be risks. There’s always a price to pay, and the more you’re after, the bigger the price.’

‘I’ll do anything,’ Caitlin said. ‘I’ll pay any price.’

Sophie hoped those words wouldn’t come back to haunt Caitlin.

During her stay in the Court of Soul’s Ease, Caitlin had kept her ears open to the whispers that washed back and forth through the city like a tide. She had learned of the many wonders that existed there, some obvious, some hidden behind the scenes, suggested but never discussed. One such was the Tower of the Four Winds.

Night had fallen by the time they located the mysterious tower in the section of the court that resembled the Moorish quarter of a Spanish city: white stone, minarets, ornate awnings and fragrant smoke blowing in the warm breeze. It lay high up the hillside, and when Sophie turned to look back over the court spread out below her, the sight took her breath away. Tiny white lights had sprung up everywhere, like fireflies in the dark; there were candles in windows and lanterns hanging over shops along the streets, tiny suns holding back the night. It was magical. If the circumstances had been different, Sophie knew she could have whiled away many days in a place of so many wonders, large and small.

The tower stood in a walled garden filled with palms and orange trees and small, spiky shrubs. A white-stone path wound through the vegetation. More lanterns hung from the trees, attracting moths in clouds. The gate was unlocked.

Caitlin caught Sophie’s arm. ‘Let’s go carefully.’

‘Why? Guard dogs?’

‘I’ve heard some strange things. The one who lives here might be dangerous. There are stories about him…’ She caught herself. ‘Let’s just be careful.’

‘Do you want me to go first?’

‘I’m not a complete invalid,’ Caitlin snapped, instantly regretting her tone. ‘I’m sorry. All this… I’m on edge.’

‘Don’t worry.’ Sophie smiled, but she was growing increasingly concerned about Caitlin’s desire to make amends for her perceived mistakes.

The tower was constructed from ivory, glass and gold, each element merging into the other with a delicate architectural sensibility that instilled a quiet wonder. The path led to a mahogany door covered with iron studs. A bell-pull hung beside it. Caitlin hesitated and then grabbed the pull to announce their presence.

For a long minute there was no reply. Then, gradually, a rhythmic hissing rose up from the vegetation on either side of the path. As Sophie and Caitlin waited with thumping hearts, snakes slithered on to the path and headed towards them. The serpents glowed so brightly that the women couldn’t be sure if they really existed or if they were constructed of green and red light.

Sophie removed her spear from the harness on her back, though she wasn’t at all sure it would have much effect on the snakes if it came to it.

The snakes moved quickly along the path and then split into two groups, curving around on either side of Caitlin and Sophie. They continued up the sheer, slick walls of the tower and came together over the top of the door, where they began to crawl into each other’s mouths. The serpents merged, becoming larger, until finally one huge snake undulated down to bring its eyes on a level with Caitlin and Sophie’s. They glittered red with a disturbing intelligence.

‘Speak your business,’ the snake said with a soft sibilance.

‘A Sister of Dragons and a Fragile Creature are seeking the wisdom of Math,’ Caitlin said.

There was a brief pause before the serpent replied, ‘That name has not been heard since the days of the tribes.’

‘But it still holds, does it not?’ Caitlin persisted. ‘Math, great magician, brother of the goddess Don. He was a friend to Fragile Creatures in times past.’

‘There are no times past,’ the snake hissed. Another pause. Then: ‘Enter, and prove yourself worthy to stand before the Seer of the Seven Worlds.’

With a fizz, the snake dissolved into tiny balls of light that drifted away on the breeze. A second later, the studded door swung open, releasing a heady aroma of incense.

‘I don’t like the sound of that,’ Sophie whispered.

‘Nor me. When they’re not being pompous, these gods are more than a little sneaky.’

Caitlin stepped over the threshold and made her way to a staircase that wound upwards around the inside of the walls. It was lit intermittently by tiny lanterns, but there were still many troubling pools of shadows. The silence that filled the tower was not peaceful; it felt as if some loud bell was just about to toll.

Caitlin and Sophie moved hesitantly up the stairs, each trailing a hand along the cool wall for support. When they had reached what they guessed was the halfway mark, the atmosphere became oppressive.

‘Can you feel it?’ Sophie asked. ‘Something’s coming.’

A sound like the wind through leaves echoed softly at first from further up the tower, drawing closer. Caitlin and Sophie waited with mounting apprehension, until the first signs of something approaching were indicated by undulating shadows cast by the flickering lanterns.

‘More snakes,’ Caitlin said. ‘Lots of them.’

As they rounded the next bend in the stairway, Caitlin and Sophie saw that these weren’t the light-snakes they had encountered at the foot of the tower, but hard-scaled, sharp-fanged serpents that were undoubtedly real. Yet they had an otherworldly ambience that made them even more menacing. Several were as broad as Sophie’s body, their tails lost in the dim recesses of the upper tower, but the majority ranged from the width of an arm to barely larger than a finger, shimmering greens and scarlets and golds, with strange black patterns along their skin that resembled runes. There were so many snakes that they filled the stairway up to Sophie’s waist, a slow-moving tidal wave that would easily engulf the two women.

Sophie grabbed Caitlin’s arm. ‘Come on. We have to go down.’

‘We can’t,’ Caitlin said desperately. ‘This is our one chance. If we go down, he’ll never let us back up again.’ She turned to Sophie, her face hard and determined. ‘You go. You don’t have to do this.’

‘You’re insane! Look at them.’

The nearest snake had the hood of a cobra, but strange alien growths like mushrooms lined its back. It reared up to bare its fangs, venom sizzling where it splashed on the steps.

‘You’ll never survive one bite,’ Sophie pressed.

Caitlin surveyed the mass of writhing bodies, almost close enough to touch now. Then she said firmly, ‘It’s a test. Math wants to see if we’re up to the honour of meeting him.’

‘Yes, dead or alive, it would seem.’

The nearest snake moved within striking range. Caitlin made her decision and then lay flat on the stairs.

‘What are you doing?’ Sophie said incredulously.

‘He said we had to prove we’re worthy. He wants us on our bellies, supplicating.’

‘You’re mad.’ Sophie looked from Caitlin to the snakes and then back down the stairs. Then she recalled what she and Mallory had had to go through in the temple beneath Cadbury Hill and knew that Caitlin was right. Cursing under her breath, she threw herself down. ‘If I survive I’m never going to forgive you for this.’ She closed her eyes and pressed her face hard into the cold ivory of the steps.

The serpents reached her a second later, a writhing mass pressing down so hard that Sophie felt she might suffocate. The sensation of constant movement above her made the bile rise in her throat. Their skin was dry against her face, forcing their way through her hair, wriggling past her cheeks, under her nose, forcing her lips apart with their tiny bodies, pressing against her eyes.

A minute later she was drowning beneath a sea of serpents, her face crushed into the hard steps, blood on her lips, in her mouth. In a desperate attempt to distract herself from the horror of what was happening, she grunted rhythms in her throat, made up tunes in her head, anything that might take her mind away.

And then the claustrophobia set in and she began to choke, but the weight above her was so great that she couldn’t have lifted herself up from the steps if she tried. Panic rammed rational thoughts aside and she knew, in that instant, how easy it would be to go insane.

The snakes continued to come for what felt like hours, until Sophie couldn’t believe there were so many snakes in all the worlds. Just when she thought her last breath was about to give out, the mass above her grew lighter, and then quickly receded.

Finally, she was on her knees, choking and spitting, unable to believe that she hadn’t received one bite. Caitlin was beside her in the same state, yet strangely smiling. She grabbed Sophie’s arm and indicated down the stairs in the direction the serpents had gone. Sophie looked around, but there were no snakes to be seen anywhere.

‘You’re not telling me that was all in my mind,’ Sophie choked.

‘It was real all right,’ Caitlin said. ‘And we survived.’

After a moment gathering themselves, they started back up the winding stairway. The aroma of incense grew stronger, and eventually the stairway opened out into a room that covered the whole floor at the very top of the tower. Four windows at the cardinal points looked out over the glittering lights of the dreaming city. In front of each sat a creature that resembled an animal, but had the same otherworldly quality as the snakes — a gleam of intelligence in the eye, or an odd movement of the mouth as if it was muttering to itself, or an unusual size.

There was an enormous boar, fat and bristling, its piggy eyes green and furious; a hawk that was almost as big as Sophie; a salmon, again as big as a person, sitting in a large wooden chair, its tail flapping against the wooden floorboards; and a bear, watching them contemptuously. All were fastened in place by an iron chain attached to a ring bolted to the floor. The four beasts radiated an air of menace that made Sophie and Caitlin wary of venturing too close.

Purple drapes covered with gold and silver magical symbols lined the walls between each window, and the floorboards were marked with similar magical symbols. A brazier gave off the heavy incense, while other mystical objects stood around. Several lanterns burning with a dull red light hung on chains from the ceiling; a brass telescope, maps and charts lay on a table, flanked by books and flasks of philtres.

And in the centre of the room, nearly seven feet tall, stood Math. Long black robes covered his entire body and on his head, protruding from a four-holed cowl, was a brass mask with a different face in each of the holes: a boar, a falcon, a salmon and a bear.

‘You survived the test,’ he said from the mask of the boar, with a voice that was strangely gruff. ‘I would have expected no less from a Sister of Dragons. But from a Fragile Creature?’ He tilted the mask towards Caitlin. It would have been easy to wilt under the cold eyes just visible behind it, but Caitlin held her head proudly.

‘We have come to ask a favour of you,’ Caitlin said.

‘A boon?’ Math was clearly intrigued by this. ‘For you — the Fragile Creature?’

‘For my friend,’ Sophie interjected, ‘who was once a Sister of Dragons, too.’

‘Ah.’ The brass mask nodded and Sophie was disturbed to see the real boar at its window nodding in time. Math’s hands protruded from the voluminous sleeves as he brought his fingertips together; they were brown and scabrous, as if they had been severely burned. ‘And what would this boon be?’

‘I wish…’ Caitlin took a breath before steeling herself to continue. ‘I wish to have the Pendragon Spirit within me once again.’

Math grew rigid. With a soft whisper, the mask rotated so that the salmon’s features faced them. When he spoke, his voice had changed, too, and was now soft and liquid, somehow. ‘You ask me to make you a Sister of Dragons again? Impossible! That is a gift that can only come from Existence.’

‘You have to!’ Caitlin’s voice cracked.

The eerie mask turned again until the face of the bear appeared. ‘You dare raise your voice to me!’ Math roared. Caitlin took a step back. Behind Math, the bear was straining at his chain, eager to break free to tear Caitlin to pieces.

Caitlin, though, was undeterred. She looked to Sophie with tears in her eyes. ‘Please.’

‘We’re sorry if we’ve offended you,’ Sophie said. ‘My friend didn’t mean it. She came here because she heard you were the greatest magician in the Court of Soul’s Ease, and if you can’t help her, no one else can.’

There was a long period of silence that ended with the appearance of the falcon’s face. ‘I can petition Existence on your behalf. But there are dangers, even for one such as me. I will demand a fine price to take such a step.’ There was a subtle slyness to his words.

‘Anything,’ Caitlin said before Sophie could stop her.

If she could penetrate the mask, Sophie knew she would see Math smiling. He turned his head in her direction. ‘I ask for very little,’ he said, ‘but it is this: a simple memory from a Sister of Dragons. A precious memory, a rare and unique thing. But it will not be missed.’

Caitlin could now see the danger, but it was too late. ‘I’m the one who should be-’ she began, but Math waved her silent with a burned hand.

He pointed a long, scarred finger at Sophie and said, ‘You must agree. One simple memory.’

‘What does it mean if I give it to you?’ Sophie asked.

‘It will be gone from you for ever, nevermore to be recalled. But what is a memory? An ephemeral thing.’

Sophie’s heart was pounding. ‘Which memory?’ Sophie asked hesitantly.

‘The memory of your first meeting with the one you love.’

‘Oh, no,’ Caitlin moaned.

Sophie felt sick. The image of Mallory sitting with her in a camp in Salisbury flashed through her mind, the smells, the sounds, his expression, the way she had felt disoriented and happy and sexy, realising the near-instant attraction. All that, gone for good; it would be like losing a physical part of her. But then she looked at Caitlin and saw her desolation, and thought of what good they both could do; of the chance they had to save the human race. She didn’t really have a choice.

‘All right,’ she said. She was aware of another secret smile beneath the mask, and then Math reached out his fingers and brushed her forehead. It felt like a steel hook was squirming in her brain. As he pulled back his fingers, there was a flash of intense pain and she screamed. A blue spark followed his fingers. Math guided it to the table where he uncorked a flask. He directed the spark inside before re-corking it hastily.

‘Sophie, thank you,’ Caitlin said. Her face was filled with guilt, but beneath it lay a desperate hope.

Sophie didn’t hear. She was trying to recall her first meeting with Mallory, but there was a horrible black hole in her mind that refused to budge however much she poked and prodded it. And she realised with a note of panic that she no longer knew why she loved Mallory, just that she did; it felt like coming into a movie twenty minutes after the start.

Math made them gather near to him within a protective circle. Candles guttered on the circumference in front of each of the windows. The animals all strained at their chains. Slowly, and with a voice that didn’t appear to come from any of the faces, Math began a chant in a language Sophie and Caitlin didn’t recognise. It hurt their ears when they attempted to focus on any of the words. The god continued for five minutes, his voice rising and falling but growing continually louder. By the end he was shouting so loudly that Sophie and Caitlin covered their ears. A great wind blew into the room, snuffing out the candles’ flames one by one. Each of the beasts began to make a terrible howling sound that could not have come from any animal. The noise rose up to the roof until it seemed to have a life of its own and rushed around the room with the wind. The beasts tore at their chains and threw themselves back and forth in a furious desire to break free.

Math stopped his chanting and pointed out of the western window. ‘Look!’ he roared above the cacophony.

Sophie and Caitlin both turned and, a second later, not knowing what they had seen, they plunged into unconsciousness.

When they awoke, an uncommon stillness lay across the room. The four beasts cowered against the windows and Math was slumped in a chair at the table as if he had no strength left within him.

‘It is as I said: the Pendragon Spirit cannot be brought into this Fragile Creature,’ he said flatly through the falcon mask.

‘That’s it?’ Caitlin said. ‘Then this was all for nothing?’

‘No.’ Math levered himself to his feet, his power slowly returning. ‘There is still hope for you. You are a child of Existence, and like all of your kind you have the potential to be greater. The Pendragon Spirit shall come to you again.’

Sophie thought Caitlin might faint at this news. ‘When?’ she said desperately. ‘Soon?’

‘When you have proved yourself ready,’ Math replied.

Caitlin thought about this for a second, then turned to Sophie. ‘I have to do what I can to prove I’m worthy. Don’t stop me doing this, all right?’

Not knowing what Caitlin was planning, Sophie agreed, but had a suspicion that she was not going to like it.

‘I know it’s possible for the gods to become a part of Fragile Creatures,’ Caitlin began. ‘You can enter us. Possess us.’

‘Some can,’ Math said.

‘I know this,’ Caitlin said. ‘And I know which one I want inside me. I have a bond with her. I know her power and I can use it in what we’ve got coming.’ She took a deep breath and then said, ‘I want you to contact the Morrigan, and I want you to make her become part of me.’

‘You’re crazy!’ Sophie said. ‘You can’t seriously be asking for that.’

‘I can, and I am,’ Caitlin said defiantly.

‘Don’t you understand? She’s the goddess of death, war, bloodshed-’

‘And sex, creativity, new life,’ Caitlin countered impatiently.

‘You won’t be able to control her — she’ll control you. She’s the most unpredictable, the most dangerous… I’m very skilled in the Craft, but even I’m careful about calling on the Morrigan.’

‘Trust me, Sophie, we’ve got a bond, her and me. I’ve been to hell and back in my life. I know exactly what the Morrigan is about, believe me. This is my only chance to do something that might help. As some weak, Fragile Creature, I’m worthless-’

‘Not true.’

‘It is in the context of what’s coming up. You know that’s right. You know it. You’re going to need all the help you can get.’

Sophie relented a little. ‘I still think it’s a mistake.’

‘You’ll change your mind. We’re going to make a good team — a witch and a warrior.’ Caitlin turned to Math. ‘Can you do it?’

‘The Dark Sister might choose a host who has the Pendragon Spirit inside her. But why should she bond with a Fragile Creature?’ At its window, the boar snorted and stamped its hooves impatiently.

‘Tell her there’ll be blood and death on an epic scale. There’ll be a war to end all wars, and I’ll be in the thick of it.’

Math raised one twisted hand to the mouth of his boar mask in silent consideration and then turned to his table. He selected two phials, one filled with red dust, the other with a granular black powder. He took a pinch of each and flung them on to the brazier.

The stench of the smoke made Sophie grip her nose in disgust; it smelled of charnel houses, of bonfires after the battle, of iron and bone. Math turned to the west once again and uttered a word of power that left Sophie staggering. An instant later, an unearthly silence fell on the tower, dead air, no echoes even when she dragged her boot over the floorboards.

An overpowering sense that something was coming gripped Sophie, but this was not the anticipation she had felt when Math had called for the Pendragon Spirit. This time she felt dread, every fibre urging her to flee.

A cloud, blacker even than the night sky, was visible through the western window. It surged towards the tower with a rising sound like thunder, swept around it, then rushed in through all four windows at once with a deafening, wild movement. Crows, hundreds, thousands of them. Sophie threw herself backwards, almost falling down the stairs. The crows filled the room in a dense wall of black, flapping wings.

From the floor, her hands covering her head, Sophie caught occasional glimpses of Caitlin. It looked as if the birds were attacking her, pecking at her eyes, her face, trying to batter their way into her stomach. Sophie called out to her, but her voice was nothing beside the tumult.

After barely more than a minute, the crows departed. As she pulled herself to her feet, Sophie expected to see Caitlin’s ragged corpse lying broken on the floor. Instead, her friend stood erect and unharmed, radiating a fierce beauty and a dark power that made her almost impossible to look upon. On her shoulder sat the biggest crow Sophie had ever seen, its black, beady gaze heavy upon her.

‘Are you… are you OK?’ Sophie ventured.

Caitlin answered with a cold glint in her eyes and an even colder smile.

Night had transformed Oxford into a magical city as Hal made his way into the centre. Candlelight flickered in many windows and the street lamps made the snow glitter on the roads and rooftops, occasionally illuminating stray snowflakes drifting down.

One hour ago, he had met with Samantha. Hal had kept a brave face while she handed over notes on the Brothers and Sisters of Dragons that she had copied from Reid’s files. They spoke of links to the Arthurian myths and to a greater mystery that intrigued Hal immensely.

Samantha had risked everything to get the information and Hal knew she had expected a greater show of gratitude from him. But if he had released even a hint of emotion, everything inside him would have come out in a deluge that he would have regretted for the rest of his life. Instead, he had simply promised to hand the notes over to Hunter as soon as he returned, and then took his leave.

He couldn’t go back to a room that now felt so small and cold, so he had decided to walk off his sadness, and now he was glad he had. There was something magical in every aspect of the city, and he felt as if he had been allowed a glimpse of the secret spark at the heart of the mundane.

He kicked up flurries of snow as he walked, wishing Hunter was there to experience it with him. He couldn’t blame Hunter for Samantha’s action; they were the two most important people in his life and if he was completely objective they probably deserved each other. Hal missed his friend; for all his licentiousness, there was a poetry to Hunter that Hal admired because he knew he lacked it himself. He had the sneaking feeling that Hunter always saw the secret spark, while Hal only ever saw the mundane.

He was worried for Hunter’s safety. There had been no official news from the front line, but rumours had started to circulate that things had gone badly. There were always rumours running wild in the incestuous Government community, and most of them usually turned out to be false, but this one gelled with expectation. Some said that the General and the top brass had flown back from the front early and were now sequestered in the War Room ensconced in the bowels of Magdalen’s New Library. Others said that the General had already shot himself with a silver bullet and the enemy was only ten miles from the city limits. There was talk of mass casualties, of a fifth column within the city itself, even that the enemy’s commander had already agreed terms with the Government and was preparing to take over.

His thoughts were disrupted by a sparkling trail that gleamed across the sky from one row of rooftops to another. It looked at first like a jet’s vapour trail, and as he watched the sparkles broke up and drifted away. A second or two later, another trail appeared further down the street, and at the head of it was a glowing golden light, moving slowly. It turned sharply and moved towards Hal, yet Hal felt no fear, only an incipient wonder.

As it neared, Hal was amazed to see a figure about the size of a ten-year-old boy at the centre of the golden light, flying gracefully. The boy swooped down and circled Hal at a distance of a few feet, examining him curiously. He wore what appeared to be a baggy golden romper suit, gloves and boots that looked to be as soft as socks with long toes that flapped as he flew. Over his head was a mask that looked like a nightcap that had been pulled down too far, with eye-holes cut into it.

‘Well I never,’ the boy said in amazement. ‘A Brother of Dragons.’ Then: ‘Please. You must help me.’

‘Who are you?’ Hal was amazed that he had reached such a state that nothing surprised him any more.

‘I have many names, like all who live in the Land of Always Summer, and, as you are no doubt aware, my Name of Names must never be revealed. But you may call me Petronus.’ He bobbed on the currents, growing more anxious. ‘Come.’ He gestured for Hal to follow. ‘Help me.’

Hal didn’t sense any threat from the strange boy and so reluctantly followed him into a tiny alley between two shops. At the far end was a tiny golden glow in the snow.

‘Help her. Please,’ Petronus said desperately.

The fading light was coming from a tiny winged woman. Her eyes were closed and her breathing shallow.

‘A Fragile Creature attacked her,’ Petronus said desperately. ‘Fired its weapon at her as she flew on the night winds.’

One of the guards, Hal guessed; they always had been trigger-happy. ‘What can I do?’

‘You are a Brother of Dragons,’ Petronus said.

Hal was on the brink of brushing the boy away, but the tiny woman’s fragile state called out to him. Hesitantly, he scooped her up to try to warm her in his hands. As he did so, a blue spark burst from him and crackled into the frail body. Instantly, the golden light began to grow stronger.

‘You have saved her!’ Petronus sounded on the brink of tears.

The woman recovered quickly, and soon she was standing on Hal’s palm, blowing him a kiss. Then she waved a cautionary finger at Petronus, and with a twirl shot up into the sky, trailing stardust behind her.

Hal was at first struck dumb by what had happened, but then he quickly grew irritated. ‘Look, what are you?’ he said.

‘How rude!’ Petronus swooped high into the air before drifting back down from side to side like a leaf falling from a tree.

‘I’m sorry,’ Hal said, stamping his feet to keep warm. The memory of the blue spark troubled him greatly. ‘But why are you here?’

‘Why? Why not? This is my home!’

‘Oxford?’

‘No, silly! I live beyond the furthest star, on the other side of the mirror, in the misty vale where the golden apples grow. If you want to be poetic.’

Hal considered this comment for a moment, sieving through the little he had gleaned of mythology. ‘The Otherworld?’ he asked eventually.

‘That is another name for it, as is T’ir n’a n’Og. There are names and names and names, and when you are as old as I am you’ll realise that names are meaningless, for they never really capture what a thing is.’

‘But this isn’t Otherworld,’ Hal protested. ‘This is… the world.’

Petronus laughed. ‘How ridiculous! I am here, so it must be the Land of Always Summer.’

Hal looked around. ‘But it’s winter.’

‘Then that proves the matter, for the Otherworld is a land of contradictions.’ Petronus spotted the tiny woman’s glimmer of golden light high over the rooftops. ‘My friend! I must go!’

‘Wait! How do you know I’m a Brother of Dragons?’ Hal asked.

‘So many questions! How does anyone know? It’s as plain as the nose on your face. You’re a blazing Blue Fire, like a little star come down to earth.’ Petronus pulled up his mask to reveal slanted eyes filled with the wildness of nature, and pointed pixie ears. He gave Hal a wink, pulled down the mask and then soared high into the sky and was gone.

Though he felt as if he was walking through a dream, Hal’s mind was racing. What Petronus had said about being in Otherworld gelled with what he had been told by the little people he had heard singing the other night. What could it possibly mean?

It wasn’t the only matter preying on his mind. Every time he heard someone or something call him a Brother of Dragons, it filled him with an unaccountable panic. Those words hinted at a future where he would have to give up the quiet, thoughtful life he had made for himself. It was a future where chaos ruled and anything could happen, where there were no certainties, no breakfast at seven-thirty, no lunch at one, no dinner at seven, no Sundays off, or sitting back with a good book as twilight fell. The name spoke of sacrifice and bloodshed and death and upheaval and all manner of unpleasantness, of the kind of life in which Hunter would probably revel, and which consequently was anathema to Hal. If it was true that he had somehow been selected by a Higher Power to be a defender of humanity, then that Higher Power had certainly got it wrong, for he had nothing whatsoever to offer.

Lost to his thoughts, Hal wandered down a side street off St Aldate’s to cut through to one of his regular haunts. It was a familiar route, but this time he was confronted by a pub he had never seen before. It looked oddly quaint and historical in a slightly unrealistic way, as though it had been prepared for a film set. Through bottle-glass windows filtered the ruddy glow of a fire and the gleam of lanterns, with a great many deep shadows in the areas between them. The warped glass did not allow a clear view inside, though there were clearly many drinkers within. Their hubbub leaked out through the ancient, scarred oak door. The second storey overhung the first in a Tudor style, complete with the requisite black beams and white paint, and from it hung a sign that said ‘The Hunter’s Moon’, with a picture of a full moon partially obscured by cloud and what appeared to be a man with a wolf’s head.

It looked surprisingly inviting, and so Hal ventured in without a second thought. It was only when the door had banged to behind him that he realised his mistake. The occupants of the pub were a strange, otherworldly group. There was a man as thin as a needle, nearly seven feet tall, wearing a stovepipe hat that made him even taller, his fingers so long and thin that they looked as if they were made of stretched toffee; a woman with long blonde hair that moved with a life of its own — she had a seductive look about her, but mad, dangerous eyes; a giant of a man wearing furs and a battered wide-brimmed hat, a string of conies around his neck and a blunderbuss hanging from his belt; another woman as bent, twisted and wrinkled as a crone from a fairy story, black shawl and white cap, a black cat perched on her shoulder, her cackle like the rattle of stones on a coffin; and more, all odd and out of place. Further towards the back, the revellers were even more bizarre; Hal glimpsed horns and scales and forked tails.

‘Bless my soul, it’s a Brother of Dragons!’ the tall, thin man said.

Before Hal could back out, he was grabbed by numerous hands and dragged to the bar where the landlord loomed, overweight and black-bearded, his arms as thick as telegraph poles, both of them covered with tattoos of disturbing symbols.

‘Pour the lad a drink, Drogoff!’ someone called. Another agreed raucously, and the landlord reluctantly served up a tankard of foaming ale that was almost as big as Hal’s head.

‘Ooo, it ain’t often we get someone like a Brother of Dragons in here,’ the crone cackled. ‘We’s honoured.’

‘What is this place?’ Despite the dreamlike sensation that gripped him, Hal was beginning to feel the first pangs of incipient panic.

The big bear of a man with the blunderbuss levered himself out of his chair and loomed over Hal. ‘Why, it’s The Hunter’s Moon, good brother. Best inn in all of the Far Lands.’

‘I don’t know what’s real or not any more,’ Hal said. His route to the door was blocked by more strange characters crowding around to see the new arrival. They were curious, but there was also unmistakable good will towards him, which made Hal feel a little more at ease.

‘The only real stuff’s in ’ere,’ the crone said, tapping the side of her head. ‘We make the rest of it ’ow we want it to be. Everybody knows that.’ With shaking hands, she grabbed a tiny goblet from the bar and knocked the contents back with gusto.

‘Steady on, Mother,’ the man in the stovepipe said. ‘The poor lad’s a bit disoriented. You know how it is when they first venture into the Far Lands. Give him room to breathe.’

The woman with the snaking hair glided forward, her hypnotic eyes burning into Hal. ‘Even Jack, Giant Killer, was adrift in his first days in Faerie,’ she said sibilantly. She moved a rotating finger slowly towards Hal’s temple, until the blunderbuss man gripped her wrist tightly. The woman hissed at him like a serpent, then pushed her way to the back of the bar.

‘Have to watch yourself round here, good brother. You’re not at home any more. There are many dangers, if you don’t know what you’re doing.’ The blunderbuss man clapped Hal heartily on the back. ‘Come on, drink up!’ he roared. ‘Join in the fun! I’m Bearskin. The fellow in the hat is Shadow John and this is Mother Mary.’

‘I don’t understand what’s going on,’ Hal said. ‘I was walking through my home town, and then somehow I ended up here.’

‘That happens sometimes,’ Shadow John said, resting his long-fingered hands on a silver-topped cane. ‘There are thin places between the Fixed Lands and Faerie. Sometimes Fragile Creatures can just fall through, without even making the transition-’

‘Not just Fragile Creatures.’ A new person had appeared on the fringes of the group who resembled nothing so much as a medieval woodcut of the devil, complete with red-tinted skin, horns, a goatee beard, furry animal legs and cloven hooves. ‘One day I dropped right out of the Far Lands. I had to walk halfway across the Fixed Lands before I found my way back. It was a close call, I tell you. They can be a savage lot when their ire is raised. Followed my footprints up hill and down dale, they did, before I managed to slip back.’

Bearskin thrust the tankard into Hal’s hand and encouraged him to drink with the exhortation, ‘All given freely and without obligation.’ Everyone laughed raucously, though Hal didn’t get the joke.

The beer was the best he had ever tasted, with a vast complexity of subtle flavours and delicate aromas, but after less than a quarter of the tankard he was already feeling heady. Yet while his conscious mind flirted with drunkenness, it unleashed his subconscious to work overtime making connections that began to unveil a hidden picture. Hal decided that here was an opportunity he should seize to glean as much information as he could. So much time and energy had been expended by several ministries in the search for the nature of the Otherworld and what had happened in the days before and after the Fall, and they had found next to nothing. All the knowledge Hal gathered would be vital in the war effort; and perhaps, Hal thought, it would move him a few rungs further up the ladder; he had languished at his current level for far too long.

‘So,’ he began, ‘your world exists alongside my own — the Fixed Lands, is that right? Side by side?’

‘Beside it, behind it and right in amongst it,’ Mother Mary said. ‘Didn’t you listen to any of the old stories when yer were a kid? We was always there, amongst you, sometimes seen, more often than not, not.’

‘You’ve always exerted an influence?’ Hal said.

‘There were some who felt the need to shape and guide,’ Shadow John said.

‘And some who just liked mischief and menace,’ Bearskin added. ‘But make no mistake, we’ve always been around. Played a bigger part in your affairs than you could guess.’

‘Invisible,’ Hal mused, ‘but always there.’ That thought set an alarm bell ringing in Hal’s mind, but the reason why remained irritatingly elusive.

For the next hour, Hal asked many questions, about Otherworld, the Caretaker, the invasion, and while he received some answers of note, many were couched in riddles that left his head aching. Then, as he sipped on his beer, a twinkle of light passed quickly behind the bar. Hal glimpsed Drogoff the barman stooping low, his face puzzled, but after a moment he gave a resounding cheer.

‘What is it now?’ the Devil said with irritation.

‘A hero!’ Drogoff said with arms raised. ‘Our young friend is a hero!’

‘We know that,’ Shadow John said superciliously.

While Hal buried his face in his tankard, Drogoff proceeded to tell the entire bar how Hal had saved the tiny flying woman. Suddenly the attention Hal received was even more glowing.

‘I always knew them Brothers and Sisters of Dragons wos a good lot,’ Mother Mary said drunkenly. She dabbed at one eye. ‘To save one of us… and a miserable lot we are… that’s just…’ She couldn’t find the words and so downed another drink.

‘I didn’t really do anything,’ Hal protested.

‘The mark of a true hero!’ Bearskin proclaimed. ‘More beer, Drogoff! And don’t put any water in this one!’

The rest of the evening passed in a haze of beer, fragrant pipe smoke and stories that made Hal’s head spin. Some were so unbelievable that Hal wondered if the pub’s strange inhabitants were playing games with him. The feeling of being in the middle of a dream grew more potent the longer he was there, and Hal felt uneasily that the longer he stayed the more dreamlike it would become, until he didn’t want to leave. It was compounded when he attempted to check the lateness of the hour, for however much he screwed up his eyes, he could not make out the time on his watch. He put it down to the drink, but the matter niggled away at him.

‘I think it’s time to go,’ he said as he drained the last of his fourth tankard of beer.

A disappointed outcry rose up from the increasingly large group that had gathered around him during the course of the discussions.

‘But you haven’t yet told us any tales of the Brothers and Sisters of Dragons,’ Bearskin protested. ‘We never tire of those.’

‘About how the Giant Killer set up your Brotherhood in the days of the tribes,’ someone called out.

‘The one about the tomb in the Forest of the Night. “ A kiss shall awaken him.” I remember that part,’ said another.

‘I’m sorry,’ Hal replied, ‘but I don’t know any of those.’

‘You don’t know?’ said Shadow John incredulously. ‘But it’s who you are!’

The feeling that he was betraying some great heritage made Hal even keener to go. ‘I’m sorry. Perhaps another time. It’s getting late.’

‘The hour is always late,’ Mother Mary said with a cackle.

Drogoff leaned across the bar. ‘Stay the night, young lad. We’ve got rooms free. A quiet one, if you like, or one where we can send all the pleasures you would ever need.’ He nodded towards three incredibly beautiful women leaning against a post in the middle of the pub, sipping drinks the colour of absinthe from long glasses. They looked quite normal until one raised a hand to wave to Drogoff and Hal saw a third eye embedded in the palm. It winked at him.

‘Some other time,’ he said with a shudder.

Shadow John slipped a friendly arm around Hal’s shoulders. ‘We’ve enjoyed your company, young lad. And for your act of great compassion you may call on us any time.’

‘True, too true,’ Bearskin said. ‘Call on any of us who drink here in The Hunter’s Moon. Right, lads and lassies?’ Loud agreement echoed around the pub. Bearskin grinned, showing two rows of pointed teeth stained with blood. ‘Call on us if you need any help, any time. We’re always ready to help out a friend.’

‘And friends like us you cain’t do without!’ Mother Mary’s shrieking laugh ended in a series of hacking, phlegmy coughs.

‘How do I call on you?’ Hal asked.

Bearskin and Shadow John shared a secret smile, before Bearskin dipped into one of his voluminous pockets and pulled out a shiny red gem that glowed with an inner light. ‘This is a Bloodeye,’ he said. ‘Stick it in your pocket. You’ll forget it’s there until you need it. Then hold it and say “Far and away and here” and whichever of us you need will be just around the corner.’

‘“Far and away and here”?’ Hal checked to see if Bearskin was joking, but he seemed quite serious.

‘Aye. It’s as good as any.’

Hal said his goodbyes and slipped out into the night. It was even colder than it had been earlier, and the chill was exacerbated by the beer. Overhead, Petronus’s glittery trail darted back and forth. Hal pulled his coat around him and trudged in the direction of his quarters, surprised that he felt more alive than he had done in years. Everywhere felt so magical, the dreaming city alive with wonder.