The Hounds of Avalon

Chapter Eleven

‘ My country is the world and my religion is to do good.’

Thomas Paine

Mallory emerged from the roundhouse into the beauty of a Glastonbury dawn. The air was fresh and sharp, a pearly mist drifting ethereally in the hollows, shimmering in the golden sunlight. The only sound was the birdsong rising up from the green landscape spreading out on all sides far below.

The roundhouse was set on the side of the Tor, just beneath the level of the terraces that formed a processional pathway to the top. Mallory observed that the college covered a vast area, from the roundhouse down the hillside, across the streets of formerly residential houses and into the grounds of the abbey. It encompassed the Chalice Well, nestling on the slopes at the foot of the Tor. The new college buildings were plain, built in a Celtic roundhouse style, and were dotted throughout the area. Nature was being allowed to reclaim parts of the old town, with new trees sprouting here and there, ivy and climbing plants swarming over brick and concrete. It was a place that looked at peace with itself.

‘Breathe deeply,’ Shavi said softly. ‘Let the tension ease from your body. Here you can be yourself. Here you can be everything you ever wanted to be.’

His words brought an unexpected juddering sigh from Mallory; he had the sudden feeling that he wanted to stay there and turn his back on the harsh daily battles of life.

‘This is a mystical place,’ Shavi continued, ‘and now the true power in the land is being allowed to rise up. We have returned it to its old use, as a college for learning and study of the mysteries of Existence. Here the important things are life and love, faith and hope.’

‘And don’t you forget it,’ the Bone Inspector said gruffly.

Mallory could feel the magic in the very air as Shavi and the Bone Inspector led him to a small campfire where they would watch the dawn turn into day. Down at the foot of the hill, Mallory could see people emerging to greet the morning. ‘You’ve taken a lot of people under your wing.’

‘Many feel the call to come, in their blood, in their dreams.’ Shavi looked beatific with his eyes closed as he felt the warmth of the sun on his face. ‘Nearly two thousand years ago there was a great race of wise men who knew the secrets of the stars and the trees and the land. They were almost eradicated by the Romans during the invasion.’

‘Druids,’ Mallory said.

‘Their true name was the Culture. But they never died out. To avoid persecution they slipped into the background, hiding in plain sight in the old communities, dispensing their wisdom where they could, ensuring that all the knowledge they had gained was passed down the generations.’ Shavi nodded to his grim-faced companion. ‘The Bone Inspector was the last of them.’

‘In this world,’ the Bone Inspector said obliquely.

‘But here we are building the Culture up again, training a new generation with the knowledge of millennia past and sending them out into a newly made world. Everything has been done over so that we can make a fresh start.’ He smiled at Mallory. ‘And this time we intend to get it right.’

‘You chose a good place. Better than Wolverhampton.’

‘Symbolism,’ the Bone Inspector grunted. ‘The Culture had their best college here. But it’s also the place where the land’s power is focused.’

‘The Isle of Avalon,’ Shavi said. ‘In the Dark Ages, Glastonbury was as you see it now, an island in the waters and marshland of the Somerset Levels. Avalon was the Celtic heaven, the Otherworld, Land of Always Summer, the mystical land of the dead where the fabled apple trees grew.’ He made an expansive gesture to indicate the apple trees that were now growing all over the area. ‘Glastonbury was considered to be the entrance to the Otherworld, a place that straddles the borders between this world and the next.’

‘And is it?’ Mallory asked.

‘Oh, yes.’ Shavi’s smile was enigmatic. ‘This is the place where legend said Arthur’s body was sent after his final battle. And all places linked with Arthurian legend are tied to the Otherworld, focal points of the Blue Fire, which is the epitome of the power of transformation. But you would know all about that.’

‘Bits and pieces. No one gave me a manual when I got the job,’ Mallory said.

‘That’s for a good reason — so that you grow into it,’ the Bone Inspector said. ‘The only knowledge worth having is the stuff you learn yourself.’

Beaming, Shavi clapped Mallory on the back in a surprising show of bonhomie. ‘It is so good to meet another Brother of Dragons.’

‘How did you cope when you first found out? Because I’m worried we’re making a bit of a mess of it. Letting the side down.’

Shavi glanced at the Bone Inspector, who burst into deep laughter, clapping his thigh as if Mallory had said the funniest thing in the world. ‘You should have seen the last lot in the early days,’ he said as he caught his breath. ‘About as pathetic a bunch as you would find anywhere.’

‘We came together just as the Fall was starting to happen,’ Shavi said. ‘At that time, no one really knew what was going on. Technology was failing; magic was springing up all over. Fabulous Beasts were flying over the land, but no one would believe in them unless they’d nearly been burned to a crisp. And then the gods came back, the Golden Ones the Celts called the Tuatha De Danann when they were first in this world. They wanted control over everything.’

‘Except their natural enemies had different ideas,’ the Bone Inspector said, ‘and the Fomorii were the nastiest bastards you’ve ever clapped eyes on. Ugly as sin, shape-shifting, meaner even than me. With that lot going at it hammer and tongs, the Brothers and Sisters of Dragons had to hit the ground running.’

‘We all had our special abilities, which we had to hone,’ Shavi continued. ‘I was the spiritual one, the seer. Ruth Gallagher mastered the Craft to become quite formidable-’

‘I know about her,’ Mallory said. ‘She became the big witch-queen. Trained up my girlfriend.’ Mallory was overcome with a deep sadness. Sophie would have loved it there in Glastonbury, with its peace and abiding spirituality. He had thought his grief would diminish, even if only a little, with each passing day; instead it was growing stronger and more difficult to contain.

‘There was Laura DuSantiago, who gained great powers over natural things. And Ryan Veitch, who became a fearsome warrior.’ Shavi’s face darkened. ‘Ryan died in the Battle of London. He was manipulated to betray us.’

‘And the fifth? He was the leader, wasn’t he?’

‘Jack Churchill, though we knew him as Church.’ Shavi grew sad. ‘A good man. A great man. The Blue Fire burned in him the strongest. He filled the symbolic role of King. He died in the final battle, too, though we never found his body. And Ruth, who loved him dearly, was broken-hearted. She put on a brave face and attempted to get on with her life, but the last time I saw her she still looked as if she’d had a part of her cut out.’

‘You’ve made yourselves quite a reputation,’ Mallory said. ‘The word’s gone around about the Famous Five Who Saved the World.’

‘We were just normal people, trying to do the best we could.’

‘Try telling that to everyone out there. These days you’re on a par with the gods. Everyone keeps talking about how you’re going to come back, save the world again.’

‘That’s your job now,’ the Bone Inspector said.

Mallory ignored him. His attention was fixed on Shavi. On the surface he appeared to be a calm, simple man, but beneath that facade lay complexity, Mallory was certain. If Shavi had once been a ‘normal man’, Mallory didn’t believe that was the case any more. He had grown into the role thrust upon him, and even sitting there on the hillside enjoying the dawn he exuded a great strength and charisma that made him a natural leader.

‘There’s even a movement out there that’s elevated Ryan Veitch to some kind of Anti-Christ,’ Mallory said. ‘The Great Betrayer, who’s going to come back and put the world to rights. Or wrongs. Everything gets twisted in the telling. Your story keeps doing the rounds, with little bits added here and there. You’re all mythical now.’

‘Poor Ryan is not coming back,’ Shavi said. ‘He was misunderstood, troubled, but not really bad. He simply could not overcome his failings. He was buried on a hillside in North London.’

‘Better not spread that around or they’ll be digging up his body for the resurrection.’ Mallory could see that Shavi was enjoying the peace he had found. After so much sacrifice, how could Mallory ask him for more?

‘I still can’t understand what happened.’ The Bone Inspector shook his head, perplexed. ‘We all thought Jack Churchill was destined for big things — someone who’d lead us on to the next level. There were prophecies, stories passed down from the earliest days of the Culture. I was sure they referred to him.’

‘He had great power inside him, certainly,’ Shavi said. ‘He wasn’t allowed to reach his potential — he could have changed the world.’ Mallory could see that the death of Jack Churchill still affected Shavi deeply.

Shavi broke the conversation by asking Mallory to come for breakfast with them. They wandered down the Tor in the warming sun, with Shavi greeting everyone he encountered by name. Mallory saw respect in all the faces, and in some, something approaching reverence.

They ate porridge sweetened with honey in a large roundhouse at the foot of the Tor. It was a communal dining area, and throughout the course of their meal men wandered in and out to grab a bite. All kinds had made their way to the college, from teenage boys to grizzled, white-haired men in their seventies and eighties. Some resembled old hippies, with faded clothes and sandals, while others had the clean-cut elegance of barristers or the tattooed swarthiness of motor mechanics.

‘No women?’ Mallory said. His memories of the disturbingly testosterone-heavy regime of the Salisbury Knights Templar were still raw.

‘The sexes have different strengths,’ Shavi said. ‘Women are better practitioners of the Craft, at manipulating its subtle energies, its raw emotional power. Ruth Gallagher endeavoured to spread the word to women across the country. The Culture’s power has always been shaped by male energies. But we would never turn a woman away if she felt the call, and I’m sure Ruth would not turn her back on a man.’

‘It’s not a monastery,’ the Bone Inspector said. ‘No bromide in the tea, no rules about stamping on sex, or stopping people drinking or doing whatever they want to do to get out of it. Besides,’ he added with a gap-toothed grin, ‘they’ll be out in the world soon enough when the teaching’s done, and then they can get to know all the women they want.’

After they had finished their meal, they made their way into the grounds of the abbey where the main teaching was carried out. Many had already made an early start. A group of young men sprawled on the grass before an elderly tutor, charts of the night sky spread all around. Near the main teaching roundhouse, a group session of t’ai chi was being conducted.

‘I adopted a very idiosyncratic curriculum,’ Shavi said with a smile as they stood to watch the graceful movements. ‘It seemed to me that we had an opportunity to enhance the long traditions of the Culture with the best of Eastern philosophy and belief systems, thereby creating a profound new wisdom for this dawning new age.’

‘About that new age dawning-’ Mallory began.

But Shavi silenced him with a hand; he did not wish to be rushed. ‘I know some of the reasons why you have come,’ he said. ‘But let’s not discuss them here, where we might be overheard.’

Shavi led the way to a much smaller roundhouse in a secluded spot in a distant corner of the abbey grounds. Inside, the only light came from a small fire that, from the mound of ash and charcoal, appeared to have been kept burning for a long time. The Bone Inspector shut the door and barred it.

‘This is the only building with locks in the college,’ Shavi said. ‘It is also protected magically from external attack, or from any party viewing from a distance. There are many powers who do not want to see this college thrive. We are always on our guard.’

They sat around the fire, the flickering flames casting their faces a dull red against the shifting shadows. ‘There’s trouble,’ the Bone Inspector said, ‘or you wouldn’t be here.’

‘Trouble?’ Mallory said. ‘That’s one way of describing it. It’s called the Void. What is it? No idea. The best description I’ve got is that it’s the opposite of life and it’s here to wipe out everything on earth. Apparently we’re some kind of infestation with ideas above our place. Though I have to admit, there are times when I agree with that estimation.’

‘We are aware of this great darkness,’ Shavi said gravely, ‘and we have known of its approach. I am ashamed to say I am responsible.’

‘What do you mean?’ Mallory asked, startled. The atmosphere in the roundhouse appeared to be growing more oppressive.

‘During the Fall, one of the rules of Existence was broken. I was the reason and the cause. I should take the blame.’ Shavi closed his eyes, remembering. ‘I died during the struggle.’

Mallory felt a frisson at the connection. ‘You look pretty good for a dead man,’ he said wryly.

‘I remember a place of mists and desolation, of a graveyard that went on for ever.’ Shavi shivered. ‘But I was needed. Five Brothers and Sisters of Dragons were necessary for the struggle. Barriers were overthrown and I was brought back to life. But there was a price to pay. There is always a price to pay. Before I departed the Grey Lands, I was told these words. I have never forgotten them. In times to come, you will discover that you cannot evade your punishment, and it will be inflicted not only upon you, but upon your world.’ Shavi swallowed, his throat dry. ‘That voice… that voice hidden in shadows

… So terrible. Beyond the edge of Existence, the Void is stirring. My actions… the breaking of the rule of life and death… brought us to its attention.’

‘ You have been noticed.’ Mallory repeated the words he had heard from one of the gods.

‘Yes. Because of me. And I have carried this burden with me since the Fall,’ Shavi said desolately, ‘dreading the day when I would hear that the Void had arrived, selfishly hoping it would not be in my lifetime. And now that day has come.’

The Bone Inspector read Mallory’s face. ‘You’re surprised we know what’s happening?’

‘You’ve got a little paradise going here, cut off from the rest of the world. You haven’t even got the bad weather.’

‘Doesn’t mean we’re ignorant of everything that’s happening elsewhere. We’re not thick — knowing things is part of what we do here,’ the Bone Inspector said.

‘The wintry weather you talk about was what first alerted us,’ Shavi said. ‘It is the Fimbulwinter, as foretold in Norse mythology. The first sign of the end of the world — Ragnarok. Three successive winters without any intervening summers, and during this time war will follow war and brother will kill brother.’

‘Sounds like situation normal,’ Mallory said.

‘Everything that has happened in recent times has been leading towards this, and all of it was foretold in the ancient stories,’ Shavi explained. ‘The Fall, the first change of the season leading towards the end. Autumn, if you will. And now the Fimbulwinter — The Great Winter — the herald of the Void’s arrival. The Fimbulwinter has been released by the Blue Hag — the Cailleach Bheur — as the world winds down.’

‘How come you haven’t got the snows here?’

‘We have been using subtle magics to hold back the relentless flow of events so that the Brothers and Sisters of Dragons can fight. The power in the land is most potent here. Glastonbury is a node in the Fiery Network. The earth energy can hold back the winter, at least for a while.’

‘So, the way I understand it,’ Mallory said, ‘the Brothers and Sisters of Dragons are the only ones who can hope to oppose the Void. But I can’t even begin to see how that could be possible. I had enough trouble with a handful of Government thugs.’

‘There are greater powers at work, and you can tap into them,’ the Bone Inspector said forcefully. ‘You might even say you represent them. Don’t ever forget that.’

‘But five’s the magic number, right?’ Mallory said. ‘And there aren’t five of us. Two are missing — we’ve got no idea who they are. There’s a psycho-soldier, goes by the name of Hunter, who’s off walking the land like Kwai Chang Caine. There’s me. And then there’s my girlfriend, Sophie Tallent.’ Mallory steeled himself, but he still felt queasy saying the words. ‘And she’s dead.’

Shavi and the Bone Inspector flinched as one.

‘So we’re not even halfway to making a fist of it. Things don’t look good. Hunter and I decided that the best chance we had was to seek out some of the old Brothers and Sisters of Dragons to make up the full complement.’

‘It doesn’t work like that,’ the Bone Inspector snapped.

‘The Pendragon Spirit is strong in those who are currently chosen,’ Shavi said, ‘but much weaker in those who have completed the task for which they were selected. I still feel it in me, but these days it is like a single flame whereas during the Fall it was like a raging fire.’

Mallory prodded at the ashes with a stick. ‘I can’t say as I’m surprised. We always expected a catch. So that’s it? It’s over?’

‘There’s always hope,’ the Bone Inspector said so fiercely that Mallory thought the old man was going to lean across the fire and hit him. ‘That’s what you lot are all about.’

‘My friend is right,’ Shavi said. ‘You have travelled far to ask for my aid and I will answer the call, for how could I not in this time of greatest need? It will be an honour to stand shoulder to shoulder with a Brother of Dragons once more. And even if I can be of little use, I will strive to do my best, as our kind always do.’

Mallory was impressed, and a little chastened, by the levels of decency he saw in the young man sitting opposite him.

‘I’ll come, too,’ the Bone Inspector said.

‘No. You must stay here.’ Shavi was firm. ‘If it is possible that we can find some kind of victory, it is unlikely that I will return. That is not fatalism. It is simply probable. You will be needed here to continue our work, for the new age that we have won.’

‘And if I do go with you I’ll be next to bloody useless. That’s what you’re saying, isn’t it?’ the Bone Inspector said gruffly.

Shavi laughed, and it was an infectious sound that made Mallory laugh, too, despite the darkness of their conversation. As they made their way back across the abbey grounds, Mallory was glad he would have Shavi fighting with him, even if, as he guessed, they would have no chance of winning.

Night had fallen by the time Hal and Samantha’s helicopter whipped across the snow-blanketed Staffordshire countryside towards Shugborough Hall. It felt as if the days were rapidly growing shorter, until soon there would be nothing but constant night.

‘I still can’t believe you got the opportunity to meet the PM,’ Samantha said, huddled in the depths of her parka as she watched the white world speed by below. ‘He’s been locked away since all this blew up.’

‘He’s under a lot of pressure. I get the impression he’s being pulled from pillar to post. Everyone in the Cabinet, every advisor, seems to have an opinion on what to do. Everywhere you go you can hear them arguing amongst themselves, over dinner, in the bars, in the corridors. I wouldn’t fancy being the PM right now.’

‘But he listened to you, didn’t he?’ Samantha said warmly.

‘He listened. I don’t know if he took anything in, though — he was so distracted.’ Hal recalled the PM’s face the minute he had stepped into his room, so grey and drawn that he was almost unrecognisable. There was a report on his desk to which his eyes kept drifting, and as they moved towards it, Hal could see a deep dread in them, like a dark pit. Hal didn’t know what the report said, but he knew what the PM thought it meant: no hope.

Yet strangely that had only enthused Hal all the more. The PM may not really have paid heed to what Hal had said, but Hal was convinced he was on the right path. It was only logical to him that a conventional response would never work against such an unconventional threat; the only way to oppose it was to utilise something as strange and illogical and potentially devastating as the threat itself. Quite clearly that meant something supernatural. Reid had the right idea with his treasure trove of mysterious artefacts, but nothing in there was big enough. It needed the Brothers and Sisters of Dragons and whatever grand design they tapped into.

And after so long feeling weak and ineffectual, Hal felt as if he was finally living up to whatever was expected of him in his role as a Brother of Dragons. He might not be wielding a sword like Mallory or staring death in the face like Hunter, but he was using his own particular strengths: his logical mind, his attention to detail, his forensic approach to problems. It sounded almost laughable to consider those abilities on a par with martial skills, but he was sure he would now be able to uncover the great secret that was hinted at by the Wish Stone, the thing that would finally give them the upper hand. Then he would be a hero, and what a great feeling that would be after being a faceless toiler all his life.

It made it easier to cope with the guilt he felt at running away from his obligation as a Brother of Dragons during the preceding days, at not telling his best friend, and at failing to offer support and solidarity when Hunter was setting off to fight the unknown. Basically, he’d been a coward. But not any more.

‘We’re nearly there.’ The pilot turned towards them, his voice muffled through the scarf he wore in the chilly cab. ‘You still want me to set you down on the village green outside the estate? It’s a long walk.’

Hal nodded. He knew it would be a hard hike to their destination through the snow, but he didn’t want to draw attention to what they were doing by bringing the chopper in too close to the hall. He had a growing sense of paranoia that the enemy knew what he was doing and would attempt to stop him.

The pilot brought the chopper down on the common at Milford, the tiny village next to the Shugborough estate, now buried somewhere beneath the thick snow. Hal and Samantha jumped out and hurried away as the chopper rose quickly into the sky. That part of the Staffordshire countryside had been designated a potential danger zone because of its proximity to the wild expanse of Cannock Chase, which had become home to so many inexplicable creatures and events since the Fall. Hal checked his watch: they had an hour and a half before the pilot returned.

It was a clear night, sharp as a wolf’s tooth, with the stars glittering overhead and the moon bright. The crunch of their feet in the snow was the only sound. When they reached the trees bordering the estate, Hal looked back to see their line of footprints scarring the pristine white cover. The whole countryside was at peace, still and sleepy as a Christmas card. There was an affecting beauty to it; so much of humanity’s mark had been obscured and what did remain — the few houses, a lone road sign — nestled in the snow as if gradually becoming part of the natural world.

Stone gates marked the entrance to a long lane with trees on either side forming a thick cover overhead. Even with the moonlight reflected from the snow, it was unsettlingly dark. Anything could be watching their passage, waiting for the right moment to strike, and they wouldn’t know until it was upon them. Samantha felt it, too, for they both stopped on the threshold. Hal felt her fumbling for his hand, which she gave a quick squeeze.

‘Still glad you came?’ He couldn’t help whispering.

‘Of course. I just didn’t think we’d be coming at night… or that it would be so isolated.’

‘You can wait at one of the houses in the village, if you like.’

‘No,’ she said adamantly. ‘Let’s do it.’ She stepped on to the lane before him.

Their progress along the road was slow. It wound around the edge of a steep bank so that soon the sight of the gate was lost, yet it was still impossible to see how much further they had to go. Both of them jumped at the slightest noise in the sound-deadened world. Just branches creaking under the weight of the snow, foxes and badgers foraging for food, Hal told himself. But he wasn’t so sure. There was a strange, oppressive atmosphere that grew stronger the further they progressed along the lane. It felt very much as though they were moving away from the world they knew into one where some dark power waited for them.

Samantha stayed so close to Hal that their shoulders were touching most of the time. Hal regretted bringing her along; not that she couldn’t look after herself — she would probably be more effective in a fight than he would — but because he couldn’t imagine her being in any danger, and he would never forgive himself if anything happened to her.

The atmosphere was so tense that most of his energy was taken up searching the trees and listening for fugitive echoes, other feet breaking the snow behind or in front. Sometimes he was sure he heard them; other times he convinced himself it was just his imagination.

Finally the lane broke through the trees and deposited them on an area of flat, open countryside. Shugborough Hall was visible in the distance against the skyline, a large, brooding presence.

With the threatening atmosphere of the lane behind them, their mood lightened. Samantha even laughed in a release of tension, then apologised in case Hal thought she was going mad.

As they trudged across the white plain, Samantha said, ‘Have you any idea what’s happened to Hunter?’

Hal had considered that question long and hard and guessed that Hunter was embroiled in heroism somewhere, fighting the good fight. ‘No idea,’ he replied blithely. ‘You know Hunter. He’s a law to himself.’

‘That’s the problem. They’re talking about treason this time. Some are saying he’s deserted.’

‘Do you believe that?’

‘No. Of course not. He’d be the last man out. What about all those rumours that he freed the prisoner and they took off together?’

Hal guessed this was probably true. Hunter wouldn’t have told Hal his plans so that he would be able to stand up to questioning, but it was logical that he’d seek the support of another Brother of Dragons. ‘Why would he do that?’

‘Oh, I have no idea,’ Samantha said with frustration. ‘I can’t understand him at all.’

They fell silent as the hall loomed up before them. The mansion house looked empty, the facade gleaming as white as the snow all around, the ten-columned portico hinting at the mysteries of ancient Greece. Two wings spread out on either side, giving the building an impressive bulk. It looked out across the sweeping fields, grand yet stern and brooding.

‘Do you know where we’ve got to go?’ Samantha whispered.

Hal had researched the hall and its history in such detail that he could find his way around the rambling old pile blindfolded. The quickest way to the Shepherds’ Monument was to head to the formal gardens on the far side. But that would entail walking past the front of the mansion house with its windows like dead eyes, and that spooked him for some reason he couldn’t explain.

‘We go this way.’ He indicated the outline of the nearest path that wound through shrubs past the side of the building. ‘It’s called the Lady Walk, takes you through to the gardens at the back. If we follow it around, it’ll bring us to the Shepherds’ Monument.’

They moved through another area of thick trees where the feeling of being watched returned in force, but then the path led them back into the open along the banks of the River Sow, its waters slow-moving and black. On the other bank, the floodplain stretched out towards Milford, the snow unmarked.

‘Nobody around,’ Hal said to reassure them both.

Another feeling descended on them as they left the cover of the trees and moved along the river bank, not oppressive or threatening this time, but still potent. It felt as though they had pushed through a veil into another room where the mood was alive with numerous possibilities.

‘Can you feel it?’ Samantha said, her voice hushed but intrigued. ‘It feels as if something’s about to happen.’

The sensation was so strong that Hal looked around to see if they had moved through some kind of physical barrier. To their right, they were presented with a vast area of formal lawns with stone steps leading the eye to the magnificent rear aspect of the mansion house. In the foreground was an ornate pond with a fountain in the form of a cherub and a swan.

A ruined monument rose up on the riverbank on their left, but as they passed it, Samantha grabbed Hal’s arm tightly and grew rigid as she looked up at a statue of a druid mounted on the top.

‘It moved,’ she said. ‘I’m sure it did.’

Hal watched the statue for a long moment. Something about the face unsettled him. ‘We’re just getting jumpy,’ he said.

‘You’re right — I’m sorry.’ But Samantha couldn’t help glancing back several times as they continued on their way.

The crunch of their footsteps echoed loudly over the still gardens as the path wound back towards the house once more, passing into another heavily wooded area. A strange building shaped like a Chinese pagoda appeared out of the gloom to their left.

‘What is it with all these odd monuments and buildings?’ Samantha said. ‘I’ve been to one or two of these old houses, but none of them had things like this.’

‘That one’s called the Chinese House,’ Hal said. ‘In the mid-eighteenth century, two brothers from the Anson family who owned the hall restyled the house and gardens. Thomas Anson had travelled pretty extensively — maybe he brought back designs he particularly liked. There’s a Doric temple in the ancient Greek style further on. He was a member of the Society of Dilettanti, who were basically a bunch of connoisseurs of history and architecture who went all around the eastern Med collecting knowledge and artefacts and generally showing off their good taste…’ The word died in his throat.

‘What is it?’ Samantha asked.

‘I don’t know,’ he began hesitantly. ‘Maybe that society was only interested in art and culture. Or perhaps they were searching for something.’

‘Something linked to the mystery of the Shepherds’ Monument?’

More connections clicked into place in Hal’s mind. He began to glimpse a grand scheme reaching back through history. ‘A lot of the societies back then were interested in esoteric knowledge but hid it behind a facade of mundaneness. Secret knowledge shouldn’t be for the masses, that was the general belief. Painters, musicians, writers — they’d often use codes, sacred geometry, all sorts of things to bury secrets in their works so that only the initiated would find them.’

‘You’ve done a lot of research,’ Samantha said, impressed.

Hal stared at the Chinese House. ‘Symbolism,’ he mused to himself before turning to Samantha excitedly. ‘Things that look normal and meaningless on the surface, but which have hidden meaning underneath. Secret symbols.’ In his rush of thoughts he was starting to gabble and he could see from Samantha’s face that he wasn’t making sense. ‘The Shepherds’ Monument clearly means something beyond what it appears to be on the surface — a garden ornament. What if all the things in this garden are part of the wider secret? All linked. All meaning something when they’re placed in context.’ Suddenly excited, he grabbed Samantha’s hand and pulled her along the path.

Finally they came upon the Shepherds’ Monument, just off the path to their right, set in an avenue of shrubs with a wall of trees behind it. Hal felt a shock run up his spine when he saw it: everything about its position in the landscape suggested that it was important.

‘The atmosphere is even more electric here,’ Samantha said quietly. ‘There has to be something in this.’

‘Did you ever doubt me?’ Hal walked slowly down the short avenue; the crunching echo of his footsteps now sounded strange, distorted.

When he finally stood before the monument, none of the pictures he had seen in the books had prepared him for its scale: he was dwarfed by its size. The reversed image from Poussin’s painting was only one small, though central, part of the whole monument. It was framed by two giant stone columns topped by a megalithic block, with another ornamental block on top. On the large stone that straddled the columns, two faces had been carved, one smiling, one sad, like the Greek masks for tragedy and comedy. The size and shape of the framing monument reminded Hal of nothing less than one of Stonehenge’s trilithons.

Underpinning the whole monument was the mysterious inscription: O.U.O.S.V.A.V.V. with a ‘D’ and an ‘M’ carved partly beneath the line. Another clue left by the Society of Dilettanti, perhaps, its meaning now lost to time. Cautiously, Hal reached forward and scraped his fingers across the rough stone surface of the Poussin relief, picking out the legend ‘ Et in Arcadia Ego ’ carved on the tomb.

But as he removed his hand, a large blue spark jumped out from his fingertips and crackled into the monument. Hal jumped back in shock.

‘What was that?’ Samantha gasped.

Before Hal could answer, flickers of blue energy appeared on the relief, sizzling around the outline of the tomb before moving down the monument. Though the ground was thick with snow, Hal could see the sapphire electricity sparking beneath the surface as it surged away from the monument in straight lines.

‘What are you looking at?’

Hal turned to Samantha, who was staring at him, puzzled. ‘The electricity, or whatever it is.’ He pointed to the lines of force moving out across the gardens.

Samantha followed the line of his finger, but shook her head. ‘I can’t see anything.’

‘You can’t?’ Hal was baffled. The blue light now burned brightly through the snow, the lines reaching out across the landscape far into the distance, interconnecting — a network of fire. The brilliant blue energy was the same as that which formed the image locked into the Wish Stone. Hal could feel it resonating inside him, filling him with a tremendous exhilaration. He felt as if he could do anything, that he was linked to everything. Was this part of what it meant to be a Brother of Dragons? Was that why Samantha was blind to the power?

There was a sudden rush in his heart and the blue light exploded upwards from the ground, soaring into the sky to form a cathedral-like structure high over the Shepherds’ Monument. Hal was stunned by the wonder of what was happening around him.

He turned back to the Shepherds’ Monument and was shocked to see that it was transforming. The blue light had made the stone relief translucent and now the image had turned the right way around. As Hal watched, the stonework began to fold out like two shutters.

‘It’s like a window,’ Samantha said, entranced.

‘You can see that?’

‘Of course I can.’

Hal’s heart thumped even harder when he realised that what he was seeing through the gap where the relief had been was not the trees behind the monument, but another landscape entirely. Hal made out rolling grassland, and in the distance a thick forest before a row of breathtaking mountains. In that place, the sun was just rising, casting the land in a magical light, picking out the mist in the hollows, illuminating the dawn clouds. The ethereal quality was palpable and sparked in Hal a deep yearning.

‘Where is that?’ The awe in Samantha’s voice told Hal that she felt it, too.

‘Otherworld,’ he said softly. ‘T’ir n’a n’Og. The Land of Always Summer.’

Across the magical landscape, Hal could just make out tracings of the blue energy that was spreading out across the countryside behind him. It was in everything, linking this world and the Otherworld, and the instant that thought entered his head, more pieces of the mystery fell into place.

‘Arcadia is the Otherworld,’ he said. ‘Poussin is pointing us towards something in the Otherworld. The image here is reversed because T’ir n’a n’Og is the flipside of our world. It’s telling us to view it from the other side!’

A surge like a strong wind came through the window from Otherworld; it felt like a bubble expanding as it passed through Hal and continued outwards, and when he looked around he was shocked once again. The gardens had been transformed, the snow gone, the quality of light that of dawn on a summer’s day.

‘That’s why this place is so important!’ Hal said jubilantly. ‘For some reason, this is one of the special spots where our world and the Otherworld intersect. That’s what you could feel earlier… the echo of it. But feel it now!’

‘I can!’ Samantha exclaimed. ‘It’s so different… I feel as if I’m drunk!’

‘That’s just the start of the mystery, though,’ Hal said. ‘There’s more. We’ve just got to keep pushing.’

Suddenly there was movement in the bushes nearby. Hal whirled just in time to catch a glimpse of a small man with the legs of a goat. The figure was naked to the waist, and small horns protruded from his forehead. He winked at Hal as he danced off, clutching a set of pan pipes. More activity was apparent all around the garden, drawing Hal and Samantha away from the monument. None of it was threatening. A magical air hung over the whole landscape, and Hal found himself grinning for no apparent reason. Samantha caught his hand and they ran to investigate, laughing, as the jaunty music of the pan pipes floated across the balmy garden. Bats flitted in and out of the trees, joined here and there by what Hal at first took to be fireflies until he realised they were tiny people with gossamer wings, glowing with an inner light.

‘This must be what it’s like over there,’ Hal said ecstatically. Then another thought struck him: ‘We could use this place to cross over!’

They followed the path around in a state of wonder. Inside the Chinese House, coloured shadows moved across the walls. It looked to Hal like dragons winding sinuously across a landscape; there was fire and light and a tremendous sense of wellbeing.

At the ruined monument by the river, the statue of the druid was now gone, replaced by the faun, who perched on the highest point playing his pipes. Hal wondered if the druid was the faun, locked in stone, waiting to be released by the power from T’ir n’a n’Og. Nearby, the fountain that had earlier been dead and dismal in the snow was now gushing, but instead of water Blue Fire flowed from the swan’s mouth, joining the network of interconnecting lines that spread out over the landscape.

‘This is amazing!’ Samantha said in awe. ‘This is what it could be like always! Can you feel it, Hal? It’s like… healing. Like I’m getting a shot of something that’s making me fit enough to do anything.’

‘I like that,’ he replied. ‘ This is what it could always be like.’

They spent the next half-hour wandering the garden in a state of awe, engulfed by sights and sounds and sensations that were so powerful it felt like a drug trip. There was magic in everything. The little creatures, the nature sprites, the tree spirits were everywhere, as if every living thing and every object had a shadow life, hidden away until a switch was thrown that allowed the true self to come out into the open. The power was so evident, so great, that Hal was convinced the war could be won if only humanity could tap into what had been released into the garden.

That was part of the secret of the Shepherds’ Monument, he was sure, and it was linked in some way to the part yet undiscovered. It was a double mystery: the reversal of the Poussin painting on the relief was the clue. Two sides, both inextricably bound together. They had broken the symbolic code of one side, the mystery of the reversed painting, which was tied into the anagram of the legend — I Tego Arcana Dei — Begone! I conceal the secrets of God. Now they knew what the secret of God was: the Blue Fire, hidden in force in the Otherworld.

But the flipside of the mystery, the true side, still escaped him. Et in Arcadia Ego — And in Arcadia I Exist? If the ‘Ego’ wasn’t Death — and he was sure it wasn’t — then who was it?

Hal’s thoughts were disturbed by a sudden change in the ambience of the summery garden. A note of tension intruded on the calm, like jagged violins in a pastoral musical passage. Samantha felt it, too, for she looked around uncomfortably.

The music of the pan pipes faded, and when Hal glanced at the ruin he saw that the faun was gone and the little flying people were rapidly disappearing into the trees. A stillness descended.

‘I think we should get out of here right now,’ Hal said.

But as they hurried along the path, a shadowy figure emerged from the thick vegetation ahead of them. It was huge, its outline moving as if seen through a heat haze. As it stepped forward, Hal was appalled to see that it was made up of the writhing bodies of animals — badgers and foxes, rabbits and mice — all melded together to give the thing shape, yet each creature still alive in some way: jaws snapped, eyes revolved.

Crying out in horror, Samantha threw herself backwards on to the ground. Hal hauled her back to her feet and turned the other way, but from the direction of the Chinese House another figure was drawing closer, this one constructed entirely out of birds.

‘What are they?’ Samantha said, her horror a keen edge in her voice.

The clearest escape route was along the broad walk across the ornamental lawns leading to the mansion house. Hal propelled Samantha in that direction. As they ran past the fountain, Hal saw that the expression on the statue of the cherub clutching the swan had now transformed into one of abject terror.

Leaping up the rows of steps, they reached the garden doors. Through the glass, the interior was in darkness and empty. Hal yanked at the handles and the doors swung open with surprising ease.

‘Why do you want to go in there?’ Samantha said, frantically looking around to see where their pursuers were. Both obscene creatures were rapidly drawing closer, but their forms clearly precluded them from running or from any particular agility.

‘We can go straight through the hall and out of the front door. Quickest way back to the lane.’

Inside, the house still revelled in its grandeur. Classical works of art hung on the walls, antique furniture lined the corridors, covered with vases and objets d’art gathering dust, all untouched by looters who would only have been interested in food and weapons.

‘What are those things?’ Samantha gasped, her eyes inexorably drawn to the monstrous creatures.

‘The enemy’s lieutenants. Hunter called them the Lord of Flesh and the Lord of Birds in his report,’ Hal replied.

‘The enemy shouldn’t have reached here yet.’

Samantha was right, but Hal didn’t want to frighten her by replying: none of the zombie-like troops were crossing the adjoining land; the Lords were alone, which suggested to Hal that they were there for a purpose — and the purpose was him. Was it because they somehow knew he was a Brother of Dragons and they were determined to eradicate the main line of defence? Was that possible? If so, he was in more danger than he’d ever anticipated.

Hal noticed something else that was just as disturbing. The lines of Blue Fire burning along the ground warped wherever they came into contact with the approaching enemy, like opposing polarities of a magnet. In the distance, the lines had already disappeared and the snowy night landscape had returned to normal, as if the energy had been cancelled out somehow.

‘Don’t worry. We’ll be out of here in no time,’ Hal said. But as they skidded across the polished floor to the front of the house, Hal realised the lie in his words. Two more lieutenants were approaching — the Lord of Lizards, green and scaly against the snowy background, and the Lord of Bones, a rictus grin adding a macabre touch to its hideous appearance.

‘Oh.’ Samantha’s voice was small and fragile, but devastating to Hal with its awareness of the grim reality they both faced.

‘Don’t worry,’ he said desperately. ‘Don’t worry.’

With Samantha clutching his hand, he raced down a dark corridor off the hall and turned into the library. Ancient books untouched in decades lined the walls beneath an ornate plasterwork ceiling. The windows, though, were barred and Hal quickly pulled Samantha out of the room and back to the hall. The Lord of Flesh was on the veranda at the garden doors and the Lord of Bones was ascending the steps at the front.

‘OK, OK. I know what I’m doing,’ Hal said, as much to reassure himself as Samantha. All the windows on the ground floor would be barred, but not necessarily the ones upstairs. But he was gambling with their lives: if he was wrong, they would be trapped on the first floor until the four Lords came for them.

He had no other choice. He dragged Samantha towards the main hall staircase and they took the steps two at a time.

‘I’m sorry I got you into this,’ Hal said when they reached the first floor. ‘I shouldn’t have brought you.’

‘I decided to come,’ Samantha said. ‘And don’t give up yet.’ Despite her bravado, though, she couldn’t disguise the tremor of fear in her voice.

They ran into a room off the upstairs hall and Hal managed to wrench a window open. A blast of freezing air rushed in, followed by a loud crashing as the doors downstairs were rent apart. They stepped out on to the roof of the columned porch, beyond which was a long drop to the hard forecourt below. Hal headed to his left where there was a short jump to another flat area of roof on the wing, but Samantha held back.

‘I can’t do it,’ she said. ‘I’m no good with heights.’

‘You’re no good with getting torn apart by monsters, either,’ Hal urged. ‘You’ve got to, Samantha. Hold my hand — we’ll do it together.’

Reluctantly, Samantha took his hand. Hal was surprised she’d obeyed him. Her limbs were taut and Hal was afraid she’d freeze up at the jump and drag them both over the edge. At the last moment he gave her a hard yank that propelled her into the air. They sprawled together on the flat roof, winded.

In a second, Hal was up, his heart thundering so loudly that it almost drowned out the noise of terrible damage being done that was emanating from the mansion house. From the flat roof they could climb on to a pitched roof at the end of the wing. It was slick with snow and ice and after only a few feet Hal found himself slithering with increasing speed towards the drop. Samantha screamed. Hal spread his hands out in a bid to create some traction and grabbed the edge of a broken tile that cut deeply into his fingers. The pain as the blood bubbled out helped him to clear the fear from his mind. Cautiously, he spread-eagled his body and edged along the roof, stopping every time he felt himself begin to slip. Above him, Samantha followed suit.

It seemed to take an age to reach the end of the roof. His muscles burning, Hal located a drainpipe and with some difficulty slithered down it. When he reached the bottom he looked up; Samantha was hesitating.

‘Hal, I don’t think I can…’ she began.

‘You made the jump, you can do this,’ Hal hissed.

‘I can’t.’ She looked around nervously as the noise from the house grew even more intense; it sounded as if the place was being wrecked.

‘You have to.’ Hal thought for a moment, then said, ‘What would Hunter say if he saw you dithering up there? He wouldn’t let you live it down.’

Samantha teetered on the brink before determination crept into her face. Hesitantly, she lowered herself on to the drainpipe and began to climb down. Hal’s relief was short-lived: halfway down the drainpipe she began to lose her grip, and a second later she was falling. Hal threw himself forward just in time. The impact knocked him to the ground and stunned him for a second. But then Samantha was helping him to his feet and thanking him profusely between sobs.

The wide-open plain stretched away from the house to the trees and the lane leading out of the estate. The thick snow would make it hard going, but Hal guessed they would probably be able to move faster than their pursuers.

‘Let me go on ahead to check there’s nothing waiting for us. Then get set to run,’ Hal whispered. Before Samantha could reply, he was running low across the thick snow. He reached a fence at the side of a now-buried road and scanned in all directions, but saw nothing. Large snowflakes began to drift down: a new storm was on its way.

Just as Hal had decided that the way was clear, Samantha cried out. Scrambling back towards the house, he found her kicking and screaming in the grip of the Lord of Birds, who had just emerged from around the side of the mansion house. Thoughts burst through Hal’s confusion and desperation: why hadn’t he checked that they were all inside the building? And what was he going to do now?

The Lord of Birds effortlessly pulled Samantha in closer. She shrieked in pain as pecking beaks erupted from the confusion of the Lord’s form to tear her flesh. Blood splattered on the virginal snow beneath where she struggled.

It was that final sight that cleared Hal’s mind to a dull white noise. Acting purely on instinct, he threw himself against the Lord’s bulk in an attempt to unbalance it. The sensation of the feathers and beaks roiling against him was sickening, but he managed to grab hold of Samantha’s wrist and pull her hand free of the Lord’s grip.

A second later, Samantha dropped to the snow, and it was only when the Lord of Birds grabbed him with its feathery hands that Hal realised that Samantha was superfluous: Hal had been the real target.

Hal craned his neck around as the Lord of Birds pulled him in. Samantha was sprawled in the snow, dazed and trying to catch her breath. ‘Run!’ he yelled. ‘Get back to the village! Don’t wait for me!’ Samantha began to argue, but Hal yelled so furiously that she jumped to her feet and set off across the snow as fast as she could go.

Pain burst all over Hal’s body as the birds pecked at him with a terrifying savagery. As the Lord wrapped its arms around Hal, its aim became apparent: Hal would be pulled into the seething morass and consumed.

Blood splashed into his eyes from the beak of a ferocious thrush that was tearing at his cheek. His midriff was growing wet and warm, now numb from repeated attacks. He attempted to get some leverage so that he could prise himself free, but the Lord of Birds was too strong and its form too shifting for Hal to get a foothold. There was nothing he could do.

As he forced his head back to protect his eyes, a single thought came into his head like a clarion call. With difficulty, he wriggled one bloody hand through flapping wings and into his pocket. The Bloodeye met his fingers like an old friend, all the hidden memories of its usefulness revealed once more.

The words came to him like a dream: ‘Far and away and here,’ almost lost beneath the wild bird calls and frantic flapping.

Hal didn’t know what happened next. He found himself flying through the air, knocked free from the grip of the Lord of Birds by a tremendous impact that stunned him. As he lay in the freezing snow, head spinning, the smell of wet fur filled his nostrils. The deafening roar of a tremendous beast echoed all around.

From the corner of his eye, Hal saw a frenzied shape attack the Lord of Birds. Feathers flew everywhere; dismembered bird heads plopped into the snow, beady eyes still rolling. Shocked alert, Hal drove himself backwards with his heels until he was far enough away to see properly what was occurring.

The Lord of Birds was being torn apart by an oversized man. Hal got glimpses through the wall of feathers — furs, a wide-brimmed hat, a string of dead conies swinging wildly — and realised it was Bearskin, the sharp-toothed drinker from the mysterious inn who had given Hal the Bloodeye.

Hal got to his feet, but he was transfixed by the inhuman fury of the attack. The Lord of Birds was being driven back, falling apart, becoming less human in form with each passing moment. But when Bearskin glanced back in Hal’s direction, Hal immediately saw why: his rescuer’s face was partially transformed; fur sprouted from the cheeks and forehead, the nose and mouth protruding in the first stage of a snout, the eyes big and black, his hands now covered with fur and tipped with long, jagged talons.

Hal was horrified by the ferocity he saw there, and he feared that once Bearskin had disposed of the Lord of Birds, the shape-shifter would turn on him.

‘Leave!’ Bearskin roared at him, the word barely distinguishable from the incoherent snarl of an animal. Hal could see from Bearskin’s eyes that he also thought he might not be able to control himself.

Hal scrambled to his feet and ran just as the other Lords began to emerge from the front of the mansion house. Foaming at the mouth, Bearskin descended on the Lord of Birds in a renewed frenzy of tearing and rending. By the time Hal had reached the line of Samantha’s footprints there remained only a wide arc of twitching bodies and torn wings and a faint purple mist where the Lord of Birds had stood, slowly breaking up in the snowy wind.

Bearskin turned on the other Lords, but it was clear that he wouldn’t stand a chance against the three of them. Instead, he awkwardly manoeuvred the blunderbuss that hung at his side and fired a tremendous volley that rang off the hall’s white walls. Hal didn’t wait to see if it had any impact on the fast-approaching Lords.

Though the thick snow made his leg muscles burn, Hal ran without stopping until he reached the halfway point between the house and the place where the lane entered the trees. He allowed himself one brief glance back: something that looked like a large brown bear was moving away on all fours at great speed.

Already the memory of the Bloodeye had faded from Hal’s mind, but the Lords would haunt him for ever, and the knowledge that they were hunting for him filled him with dread. Yet he had learned an important part of the mystery that he was sure was key to the survival of humanity and he was increasingly optimistic that the final pieces would soon fall into place.

Ahead of him, Samantha was just making her way into the trees. And there was his other great hope: he’d saved her life, and if he could help save the day, then perhaps she would finally see him as more than a good friend. Her love was worth fighting for more than anything else.