The Hounds of Avalon

In the reverent depths of the Bodleian Library, Hal pored over a mountain of dusty volumes, but his mind was elsewhere. While reading the same page over and over again, he was back in the helicopter on the return journey from Shugborough Hall, adrenalin racing through his system, his heart pounding fit to burst, and the snowy countryside sweeping past beneath in a magical procession. And Samantha was pressed tight against him, her head on his shoulder, her arm entwined around his, and she was whispering the words he would never forget.

‘You saved my life, Hal. I don’t know what I’d ever do without you.’

And then there had been the kiss. On his cheek, admittedly, but it had not been chaste, he was sure; certainly not overtly sexual, either, but filled with a deep affection.

The scene played over and over in his mind. The seeds were so small, he didn’t dare give them too much credence, but a tiny part of him refused to let go: there was hope; she wasn’t completely devoted to Hunter; when the crunch came, she’d prefer Hal’s decency over Hunter’s louche amorality.

He was so lost to his ever-entwining mind games that he almost missed the item for which he had been searching. Just as he was about to turn the page of the two-hundred-year-old book he had been sifting through, his subconscious flagged up a tiny reproduction of The Shepherds of Arcadia. Hal read the accompanying information once, then again, this time taking it in, and finally a third time with avid concentration.

‘Samantha!’ he called out. ‘I’ve found something!’

Samantha ran over from another table where she had been hidden from his view behind a wall of books.

She hung over his left shoulder and peered at the text. Hal could feel the warmth of her skin, smell her perfume, but he forced himself to concentrate.

‘Listen to this,’ he said, and began to read from the book. ‘“The phrase Et in Arcadia Ego cannot be traced to any classical source. When asked of its origins, Nicolas Poussin maintained a puzzling silence. Yet on several occasions he told of a strange meeting. It occurred in sixteen thirty-seven, shortly before Poussin began work on his famous painting Les Bergers d’Arcadie, when, according to the artist, a young man with blue skin mysteriously appeared in his studio and entreated him to paint his first work on the subject. The angelic messenger’s details were specific, and included the curious phrase, but Poussin was induced to take the secret of his painting to his grave. Poussin always grew pale when questioned about this night-time visitor. But whatever was said to him in the privacy of his studio on that occasion encouraged him to begin work on his painting the next morning, in a feverish state according to his closest friends.”’

Hal stared at the page for a moment, then looked into Samantha’s face, so close to his own. ‘I don’t know about “angelic messenger” or “blue skin”, but that certainly sounds like a visitor from the Otherworld.’

‘But why would someone from the Otherworld visit Nicolas Poussin in Rome and force him to paint The Shepherds of Arcadia? ’

‘Because,’ Hal said, ‘they wanted to preserve a clue that could be discovered hundreds of years later. Maybe they knew Poussin was going to be a great artist and that all his works would be well known down the years.’

‘But why all those centuries back?’

Hal thought about that for a moment. ‘Perhaps the strange visitor didn’t set off all that time ago.’

‘What do you mean?’

‘All the legends say that time is odd in T’ir n’a n’Og. It doesn’t move in straight lines. Maybe there’s no such thing as time there at all.’

‘You’re making my head hurt.’

‘Maybe the gods can access any point in time they want from the Otherworld. And maybe they picked Poussin because…’ He paused, reordered his thoughts. ‘OK, how about this? What if Thomas Anson had a similar meeting with, say, a blue-skinned man who encouraged him to commission The Shepherds of Arcadia in reverse for the Shepherds’ Monument at Shugborough?’

‘We don’t know that.’

Hal shrugged and pressed on. ‘And what if these gods were influencing our world all the time, but they passed into legend as angels?’ he said excitedly. ‘Or demons. Didn’t William Blake supposedly see some hideous figure before he painted Ghost of a Flea? ’

‘I have no idea,’ Samantha said with some amusement.

‘Yes, yes, you’re right, I’m off on a tangent. But don’t you see? We’re getting somewhere. Poussin painted The Shepherds of Arcadia because of divine intervention. It’s important enough that the Tuatha De Danann or some other Higher Power wanted it preserved. It’s got something to do with T’ir n’a n’Og. A tomb… a death… a secret in death…? If it was painted over here, it was a clue we were meant to find.’ His train of thoughts was rushing wildly on.

‘“We” as in you and me?’

‘We humans. We…’ He paused. ‘Maybe it was left for the Brothers and Sisters of Dragons.’ His heart started to pound. Was it some supernatural connection meant for him alone?

‘Couldn’t they have left the message in a more obvious way?’ Samantha asked. ‘If it was meant for the Brothers and Sisters of Dragons, why would it be in a Poussin painting and a monument at Shugborough, not whatever it is the Dragon Brothers do on their day off?’

‘Because…’ Another shiver. ‘Perhaps they knew that one of the Brothers of Dragons would come across this.’

‘But they haven’t, have they? We have. I mean, I know one of them found the original stone, but he didn’t crack the clues.’

Hal disappeared in a mist of intense concentration before he said, ‘They buried it deeply because it’s such an important — perhaps powerful — thing that’s been hidden that they couldn’t risk anyone else finding it.’

‘So it is something that could help us in the war.’

‘Yes,’ said Hal, dazed. ‘I really think it is.’

The War Room was dominated by a large electronic map of the UK. Vast swathes of the North Country were coloured red, ending at a line bisecting the country from west to east and centring on Birmingham. Along one wall, three female operatives were in constant radio contact with numerous field agents supplying intelligence back from as close to the front line as they could get. The General, who had not slept for nearly forty-eight hours, regularly checked the updates, but spent most of the time inspecting maps and making calculations.

‘You’re in a bad mood.’

The General looked up to find Reid standing next to him. ‘How do you slip in and out like that? It’s bloody unnerving.’

Reid smiled without humour. ‘I have to say, things aren’t looking good.’

‘And you ask why I’m in a bad mood?’

‘The question was really just a way into finding out how the meeting went with the PM.’ Surreptitiously, Reid began to shuffle through the maps on the table until the General dragged them away from him and pulled Reid away to one side where they couldn’t be overheard.

‘I think he’s bloody losing it,’ the General growled quietly.

‘Oh?’

‘Look at the map. We’ve got five days before the enemy reaches us, maybe less. They’ve stopped annihilating the general population and are marching straight for us here. Their army now stands at somewhere around two million. They don’t eat, sleep, rest. The only way to stop them is to blow them into tiny little pieces, and even then they’re not dead. What’s left twitches and crawls under its own steam. I’ve seen the footage. It’s sickening.’

‘Ah. So the PM didn’t go for your nuclear option.’

‘No, he didn’t.’

‘A series of nukes secretly buried in their path, to be detonated when the army is over them. Might take out, what, even a million of them? And irradiate half of England. I wonder why the PM wasn’t interested?’

The General glared; Reid would not have been so disrespectful a few weeks earlier. His bleeper went off, and when he checked the message he flung the device across the room in a fury.

‘Temper, temper,’ Reid cooed.

‘How can you be such a cold fish? Everything’s falling apart here because nobody has the backbone to make the tough decisions. Barring Kirkham coming up with something, the hidden nukes are the only chance we have. Yes, there would be some collateral damage, and I wouldn’t fancy taking a holiday in the Midlands for a while, but we have no other option.’

Reid turned towards the map, tracing an imaginary blast zone in the air in his line of vision. ‘What did the PM say?’

‘He vacillated. “Yes, it may be our only option.” But this, maybe that… “Let me think about it.” Blah, blah, bloody blah. Somebody’s put another plan to him.’

‘Are you sure?’

‘He dropped a few clues. Is it you?’ the General asked bluntly.

‘Not me.’

‘I bet it’s that bitch Manning. I have no idea what it could possibly be. We have no other weapons-’

‘Well…’ Reid interjected with a sly smile. ‘Things are always darkest before the dawn, General. Remember that.’

‘You can be a slimy little shit, Reid, but if you’ve got something going on that you can pull out of the hat, I’ll kiss you.’

‘Steady on, old chap.’ Reid tapped his nose. ‘We’re working on something.’

‘Well, work quicker. We’ve hardly got any time left.’ The General cracked his knuckles. ‘There’s something no one’s grasping. This power we’re all supposed to be so afraid of isn’t anywhere to be seen.’

Reid nodded; old news.

‘Why isn’t the Void here yet? Missed the train? Where is it going to turn up? At what point? Its army is winning the fight. Its generals are marching on the field. But still no sign of the real enemy. You’ve not sighted anything?’

‘We’ve got agents all over the damn place looking for the first sign of arrival. Nothing so far. Maybe it won’t turn up until long after we’re all gone.’

‘We need to find it the minute it gets here, stop it instantly in its tracks.’

‘You think that’s possible?’

It was the General’s turn to smile slyly. ‘If it’s as powerful as it’s supposed to be, why does it need an army to prepare the way? Perhaps because it’s not so powerful after all. So, if we take out the army, it might not appear. Or maybe we can take it out the moment it arrives. Get your intelligence working on that, Reid.’

Reid considered the General’s words thoughtfully. ‘Good point. Why isn’t it here? Yes, thank you, General. I think I’ll do that.’

The General looked around furtively, then whispered, ‘I don’t know if the PM is the right person to be leading our defence. We need strong decisions, not weak-kneed umming and ahhing.’

‘What are you suggesting?’

‘Nothing just yet. But if we needed to replace him, would you be prepared to tell him to step down?’

Reid shook his head. ‘There’s nobody else in the Cabinet I’d like to see in the top job. Unless you’re putting yourself forward as a candidate?’

‘If I did, it would just be as an interim measure to see this crisis through. We need to get a grip, Reid. Five days tops and it’s all over. I’m going to need to issue the order on the nukes within twenty-four hours.’

‘Don’t do anything hasty, General. You might regret it.’

‘None of us is going to live to regret anything, Reid, if we don’t stop this. Don’t forget that.’ The General’s cold stare condemned Reid in an instant and then he walked away with the air of a man who had reached his limit.

In the depths of the Ashmolean Museum where the most powerful Government computers were housed, Kirkham watched the screen as the modelling wound towards its conclusion. Manning tapped her red nails on the desk top with irritation.

‘I find it very hard to concentrate while you’re doing that,’ Kirkham said with controlled exasperation.

‘And I find it very hard to wait while you continually come up with nothing.’

‘You know it’s not that simple,’ Kirkham protested. ‘This would have been nigh-on impossible even before the Fall when we had endless resources and unlimited time-’

‘No more excuses!’ she snapped. ‘Before the Fall, you wouldn’t have had a whole range of supernatural artefacts, energy sources and a whole new way of thinking to draw on. So stop whining.’

‘What you’re asking for is an understanding of the underpinning of reality, but even to begin to explain the concepts in layman’s language is-’ he began, but Manning cut him dead again.

‘I don’t want the mechanics, Kirkham.’ She prowled around the desk like a big cat, claws barely sheathed. ‘We know now that there are different levels of reality. Different dimensions. This is not theory any more. We know that there is a certain fluidity to these other dimensions-’

‘Dimensions isn’t really the right word-’

‘Shut up. We know that so-called magic — or the “new science” as you like to call it — can affect reality, too. So, is what I am suggesting possible?’

‘We’re talking about non-limited consciousness causing an effect at the quantum level. If reality is phase-locked like the light in a laser, then consciousness can-’

‘Is what I am suggesting possible?’

‘Yes, it is possible.’

Without another word, Manning turned on her heels to snatch up her furs and then she was gone. Kirkham breathed deeply. For a second, he thought he had seen something else standing where Manning was, something in her and around her, gone in the blink of an eye. He rubbed his tired eyes and returned to the flickering light of the computer screen.

Sophie experienced a sensation of floating in water and a second later she was standing on the flagged floor of the Watchtower corridor. The chilly air smelled of damp stone and her footsteps echoed loudly off the rough-hewn walls.

‘That was weird.’ Harvey steadied himself beneath a hissing torch.

Caitlin appeared at Sophie’s side, clutching her axes, her gaze flitting back and forth as she searched for danger. ‘Are you anticipating trouble?’

Sophie still found it unnerving to hear Caitlin’s voice emanating from a body that resembled Caitlin but was clearly not her. The muscles of her face were tauter, her brow regularly knitted, her eyes piercing and unblinking; subtle changes that altered not just her demeanour, but who she was.

‘No idea. The Watchtower was always a waystation between T’ir n’a n’Og and our world, but that doesn’t mean it’s deserted.’

‘Then we had better proceed with caution.’

‘How do we get back home from here?’ Harvey asked.

‘You can get to all times and places through the doors that line the corridors,’ Sophie said. ‘Somewhere there’s a door leading back to where we want to go.’

‘We could be looking for ever!’ Harvey whined.

‘Look at this.’ Thackeray was standing at a window. The others fell silent as they gathered round. The view filled them with a deep dread: there was emptiness, emptier even than deep space, a spiritual emptiness, but here and there fires occasionally burst and faded like stars with their lifetimes diminished to fractions of a second. ‘Where are we?’ Thackeray said quietly.

‘Let’s worry about where we’re going,’ Sophie said firmly, leading the way down the corridor.

It twisted and turned in a manner that made no architectural sense. Each section they came upon as they rounded a bend looked exactly the same as all the others through which they had already passed. Doors, oaken and studded with black iron, broke the monotony of the walls at regular intervals. The majority were locked, but the first one Sophie discovered to be unlocked released a blast of freezing air into the corridor. They looked out over a frozen hilltop where a gnarled figure stood, a crone dressed in rags, clutching a wooden staff, her hair wild in the wind. Icy blue light washed off her. Every now and then she would lift up her staff and shake it as if angry at the gods, and another fall of snow would come from the slate-grey sky.

Another door opened on to a scene of Caitlin, covered from head to toe with clay, beside an open hole in the ground. It was night, and raining, and she had her head back as if she was howling, her face transformed into some animalistic expression. They only had a moment to glimpse the scene before Caitlin grasped the door and pulled it shut so fast that she almost knocked Sophie to the floor.

Other doors showed scenes from their past lives, and one or two appeared to reveal future events, though they were bland and uninsightful: Harvey and Thackeray talking in a small room; Sophie standing next to an Asian man in a snowy street.

But then they came upon something that disturbed them immensely. When Thackeray threw open the next door, it revealed nothing at all, no scene, just a black void that appeared to go on for ever. The second and third doors revealed the same vista.

‘OK,’ Thackeray said. ‘If we can only open doors that show aspects of our lives, past or future, what does it mean when the doors show nothing at all?’

‘You know what?’ Harvey said as they all silently mulled over the question. ‘Who cares? There’s nothing we can do about it. Let’s just get home.’

They trudged on disconsolately with Sophie keeping a close eye on Caitlin. Every now and then, Sophie had heard her quietly answering questions no one had asked, and as they walked she was growing even moodier and more introverted, ignoring any advances from the others.

After the monotony of the long corridors, they were surprised when they found a flight of stairs breaking off to one side. Harvey eagerly led the way, skipping up the steps two at a time. He soon disappeared from view, then called back excitedly for them to join him.

The others found him lounging on a heap of sumptuous cushions in a large chamber with intricately illustrated tapestries lining three of the walls and floor-to-ceiling windows with leaded diamond panes on the other.

‘What’s the point in windows if you’ve got nothing to look out on?’ Thackeray asked, tired and irritated. He collapsed on to the cushions next to Harvey.

Sophie ignored them and looked around with interest. She was struck by several unusual items in the room, but the most prominent was a three-legged piece of furniture with a dome on top, constructed from gold and silver and covered with finely detailed workings.

Thackeray saw her approach the piece and warned, ‘I wouldn’t go touching anything in this place.’

Sophie ignored him. Increasingly she was learning to trust her instincts and now she could feel a subtle vibration at the base of her skull, like the buzz of power lines only more pleasant. It emanated from the object.

Caitlin moved to explore an archway leading to more stairs while Sophie investigated the item. From the corner of her eye, Sophie saw Caitlin cast one dark, cold stare her way before she disappeared into the shadows.

The dome was warm to the touch. Sophie couldn’t help but trace her fingers over the fine filigree. As she did so, the dome began to throb. She stepped back as it opened with a mechanical whir.

‘I told you not to touch it,’ Thackeray said, jumping to his feet.

Harvey rolled off the cushions and hovered near the door to the stairs. ‘Leave it alone!’ he said, but Sophie was entranced. The dome revealed an electric-blue ball of energy hovering in the air, orbiting slowly.

‘I don’t think it’s dangerous,’ Sophie said. She reached out and touched the surface of the globe. It shimmered as it sang to her with a soothing tone. As the notes died away, the ball changed colour slightly, becoming greener until it revealed a face distorted as though seen through a crystal ball. As Sophie peered closer, she realised the face was that of a Green Man, like the ones she had seen in medieval churches, with features constructed from interlocking vegetation. The eyes, deep and intelligent, blinked. Sophie jumped back in shock.

‘Who calls?’ The voice resonated clearly around the room, sounding like the wind rushing through the forest at night.

‘I… I…’ Sophie burbled. ‘I’m sorry. I didn’t mean to disturb you-’

‘A Sister of Dragons?’ The Green Man’s eyes narrowed as though he was peering back at her through a crystal ball. He appeared to see her confusion. ‘You have called to me. You know me, little one?’

‘I couldn’t forget you,’ Sophie replied. His names rattled through her head: Cernunnos, Lord of the Green, Master of the Wild Hunt, and more, all inscribed in the heart of man.

‘You are in the Watchtower?’ the god said. ‘Then you have activated the Emptoreptic, known also as the Eye of Distant Dreams. It was left in the Watchtower so that in the darkest days the Golden Ones and all associated with them could be contacted, wherever they might be.’

Sophie assimilated the information quickly and instantly said, ‘We need your help. The Void is coming.’

‘I am aware of the Devourer of All Things, Sister of Dragons. I do what I can to help all Fragile Creatures.’

‘Will you fight beside us?’

‘Is that your wish?’

‘Yes… yes — and any others of your kind, too. Anyone. Any help. We need all the help we can get.’

‘Then the Wild Hunt will ride for you and your kind. And the call will go out to my own brothers and sisters. This day we make a pact.’

‘Thank you,’ Sophie said. ‘Thank you so much.’

The Green Man faded from view, the blue globe descended and with another mechanical whirr the dome closed.

‘I don’t believe it. You called in the cavalry?’ Thackeray was standing beside her.

‘I think I have,’ Sophie replied.

‘This Green Man,’ Thackeray continued, ‘I know all the myths and legends and everything, but… he’s a big deal, right?’

‘The biggest,’ Sophie said. ‘Of all the gods we’ve encountered, he’s one of the most powerful. Where’s Caitlin? We need to tell her.’

Harvey nodded to the stairs behind him. ‘She’s up there. You want me to get her?’

‘We’ll all go.’ Sophie was barely able to contain her excitement. Perhaps with the Green Man on their side, they might actually stand a chance.

She pushed her way past Harvey and bounded up the steps. They spiralled upwards in such a way that Sophie realised they must be approaching the top of the Watchtower. Sophie called Caitlin’s name as she ran, but there was no response. Had they been stupid to let Caitlin wander off on her own?

Finally, the last flight of stairs appeared. At the top, the sucking blackness of the gulf was framed in a doorway. A figure was silhouetted against it briefly as one of the explosions flared silently in the infinite distance. Sophie called Caitlin’s name again; there was still no answer. Was it Caitlin, or someone who had struck her down?

Sophie turned back to Thackeray and Harvey. ‘Wait here,’ she said quietly.

‘What’s wrong?’ Thackeray asked.

‘I don’t know. Probably nothing. But if there is, it’s better if only one of us is up there.’

Cautiously, Sophie progressed up the final few steps. A balcony ran around the perimeter of the tower’s summit. It was barely two feet wide and the stone balustrade was worryingly low. Below, the full extent of the Watchtower was revealed, an Everest of stone, vast and monolithic, with carved gargoyles and faces, statues and designs, black, sloping roofs of wings, smaller turrets and towers, the ground floor lost far below in the dark shadows; all of it floating in the gulf.

Vertigo gripped her and she pressed her back against the stone. Dragging her gaze away from the dizzying view, Sophie looked both ways along the deserted balcony. Deciding against calling Caitlin’s name again, she edged around the wall.

The atmosphere of that strange place dampened sound so that it felt as though her ears were filled with cotton wool. The effect threw her natural instinctive abilities awry and so she was taken by surprise when the blow came from behind her, crashing against the base of her skull.

Sophie rolled away from the wall to the edge of the balcony, stars flashing before her eyes. When her vision finally cleared, she was bent backwards over the balustrade with Caitlin looming over her, one hand gripping Sophie’s throat, the other holding an axe high. Caitlin’s face was transformed by dark fury, more Morrigan than Caitlin, her strength and determination inhuman.

‘What… what are you doing?’ Sophie choked.

‘I saw,’ Caitlin snarled, in an echoing voice that no longer sounded like Caitlin’s. ‘You and him, together. Behind my back. You can’t be trusted. You’re the enemy.’

‘No.’ Sophie squirmed, but couldn’t break Caitlin’s iron grip. ‘You’ve got it wrong.’

Sophie saw the frenzy in Caitlin’s face, her arm muscles growing tense, the axe suddenly coming down hard towards her head; no room to escape the killing blow.

Sophie clamped her eyes shut. But instead of the impact of the axe on her skull, she felt Caitlin’s hand wrenched free of her throat. Choking, she threw herself forward to see Thackeray and Harvey wrestling Caitlin away.

‘Get back!’ Sophie yelled to them. ‘She’s lost it!’

A black cloud was growing around Caitlin, gaining solidity like bubbles forming on crude oil. The bubbles took shape, grew wings, became crows that suddenly burst free from her orbit, scores of them swirling all around Caitlin, assailing Thackeray and Harvey with beak and talon and beating wing. Thackeray and Harvey thrashed them away, but were driven back towards the door to the stairs.

Sophie drew her spear from the harness suspending it across her back. She held it two-handed, balanced on the balls of her feet, knowing she was no match for Caitlin in terms of physical strength.

The crows surrounded Caitlin like a thunderstorm. She was preparing to attack.

‘I had to do it to open the door to this place, Caitlin,’ Sophie yelled. ‘I wasn’t betraying you. It wasn’t personal.’

Caitlin’s movement was so swift and ferocious that Sophie barely saw her. She had an impression of a black wind rushing at her, the whirling axe blade a gleam of silver within it.

Sophie parried the blow through a mixture of blind luck and instinct, but the shocking vibrations from the incredible force of the attack almost knocked her unconscious. Her spear went flying from her hands and Sophie, dazed, spun off-balance. Slamming against the balustrade, she went over, unable to stop herself.

There was a brief feeling of falling before she reacted. She grabbed on to a carving protruding from the side of the tower, the shock almost wrenching her arm from its socket. She flung her other arm around it before she slipped off, but she wasn’t strong enough to cling on for long. Her feet kicked over the abyss, her muscles already aching from the strain of hanging, her stomach sick from the shock of fall and impact.

Caitlin loomed over the balustrade, surrounded by the thunderous murder of crows. Yet there was a subtle change in her face, a shadow of humanity. ‘I… I can’t stop her.’ Caitlin’s voice had returned to a human timbre, but it was weak, barely audible. ‘It’s as if I’ve got two people in my head and neither of us can think straight. This… it isn’t meant to be. It’s driving us both mad.’

‘Fight it,’ Sophie gasped. She managed to swing her feet around to catch a foothold on another carving.

‘If I still had the Pendragon Spirit, I could balance her out, but

…’ Caitlin’s voice faded away.

Sophie saw Caitlin’s face darken and knew that her moment of respite was over. Climbing back up wasn’t an option. Fighting the vertigo that spun her head, she focused as hard as she could on the stone of the tower wall to block out the drop, and then searched out more foot- and handholds. The mass of carvings gave her plenty of options, but already she was shaking from the strain of keeping her muscles tense.

She swung to one side with her right foot, tested her weight on the new foothold and then followed with her right hand. She vacated the carving just as Caitlin’s axe raised a shower of dust as it crashed against where she had been clinging.

Sophie moved as quickly as she could while maintaining her safety to get out of the reach of Caitlin’s weapon. But in doing so, she allowed herself a glance down: it was like standing on a ledge at the summit of the Empire State Building. Her head spun so wildly that she almost fell away from the wall.

She screwed her eyes shut and rammed her body hard against the stone while she reclaimed her equilibrium. When she looked around again, Thackeray and Harvey were hanging out of a window below and to her right, urging her silently towards them.

With the last of her strength, she made it as close to the window as she could, but for the final two feet there were no more carvings to support her.

‘Jump,’ Thackeray hissed. ‘We’ll pull you in.’

‘I can’t,’ Sophie said. ‘I don’t know if I’ve got it in me.’

‘It’s either that or fall.’

Sophie knew he was right. With her eyes shut, she jumped, convinced she was plummeting to her doom, and then she felt herself being manhandled roughly through the window. All three of them fell on to the stairs and rolled down, cracking heads and shins on cold, hard stone before they could stop their descent.

From above came the sound of flapping wings approaching fast. Sophie was the first to her feet, and dragged the others after her. They careered down the stairs on the verge of falling out of control, skidding into the room with the Emptoreptic and then on, down the next flight of stairs.

The sound of the birds never relented and as they emerged back into the corridor, they knew that if they slowed they would be dead.

‘Caitlin’s gone. That thing’s taken over.’ A desperate sadness filled Thackeray’s voice.

‘There’s still hope,’ Sophie said. ‘But we need to save ourselves before we can think about helping Caitlin.’

‘Which way?’ Harvey yelled in a panic.

Sophie randomly picked a direction and they set off as fast as they could. Whenever they felt they could spare a second, they randomly tried one of the doors en route, but on each occasion they lost valuable time that they knew they would not be able to make up. The Morrigan would never give up, and soon they would tire, and then she would catch them.

‘This is ridiculous,’ Thackeray wheezed. ‘We could run around here for ever and not find the door. It’s statistically impossible.’

Sophie wrenched open a door. ‘I think it’s this one,’ she said.

Thackeray didn’t have time to query her before she had propelled both him and Harvey through. She dived in after them, slamming the door behind them. They skidded down a snowy slope and came to a stop beside a fence next to a road sign, obscured by ice and frozen snow.

‘It’s winter?’ Harvey said.

‘Must be,’ Thackeray said. They were all racked with shivers in the biting temperatures.

‘We need to get to shelter before we freeze to death,’ Sophie said with chattering teeth.

‘How do you know this is the right place?’ Thackeray asked.

‘All the other scenes had an odd artificial quality, as if the backgrounds were films projected on to the walls of the room,’ Sophie said. ‘This one looked real.’

‘It doesn’t make sense. It’s too much of a coincidence.’ He looked at Sophie suspiciously, as if she was about to turn into a monster like Caitlin.

‘Two things,’ she said. ‘One, I felt it in my gut, and I think it was the Pendragon Spirit telling me that this was the right door. Two, there are no coincidences. I think we were meant to find the way out, like we were meant to do lots of other things.’

‘That’s kind of creepy,’ Harvey said.

‘Let’s move,’ Sophie said. ‘Caitlin will be through soon.’

‘You really think so?’ Thackeray said. Sadness flashed across his face, but Sophie was impressed to see him constrain it.

‘She’s a killing machine with the powers of a god. No compassion, no empathy. She’s not going to stop until I’m dead,’ Sophie said bitterly. ‘And you know what the worst thing is? I helped to make her this way… and I gave up an utterly valuable, unique thing to do it. And now I’m going to die as well. That’s irony for you.’

Thackeray went to comfort her, but before he could, Harvey hailed them. ‘I don’t think we’ve got far to go before we find somewhere to hole up,’ he said, motioning to the road sign he had just cleaned off.

It said: Oxford.

In his arctic survival clothes supplied by the quartermaster, Hal was almost unrecognisable as he trudged, head bowed, through the blizzard. Perhaps that was why Manning didn’t notice him as she crossed the High Street on her way to the Cabinet offices.

It was a random moment that at any other time would have passed Hal by, but he was lost in thoughts of the Otherworld and its strange inhabitants and suddenly he was struck by a revelation. He’d always been suspicious of Manning’s intentions, even before he had heard her talking to a seemingly invisible companion that night before the invasion had started. He’d dismissed the troubling event, sure he’d misheard, perhaps misinterpreted, had too much else on his mind. But now he knew there was something abnormal about her.

Even though she wore a fur coat and hat, they were scant protection against the cold, but when she passed Hal it was clear that the bitter temperatures weren’t affecting her at all.

With the hairs on the back of his neck prickling, Hal made the decision to follow her. It was out of character for someone who paid little attention to instinct — he preferred things hard and fast — but he felt such an imperative that he knew he would regret it if he didn’t.

Hal allowed Manning to reach the far end of the High Street before he turned and followed her, and that was when he noticed the second strange thing. He had been staring at her tracks in the fresh snow when he realised that there was not one set of footprints but two, intermingling so closely that if he had not been paying close attention he would have missed it.

With growing apprehension, Hal kept behind Manning until she disappeared into Oriel College. He anticipated that she would first be heading to her own complex of offices, which lay on the first floor of the building. Hal quickly hurried in through another entrance and made his way up a parallel flight of stairs so that he could approach from the opposite direction and, if discovered, it would not appear that he had followed her.

The building was quiet and he heard Manning moving around her office. There was a single set of footsteps at first, and then, eerily, there were two sets.

Hal edged cautiously along the corridor until he could peer in through the window in the door. The blind on the window was half-closed, impairing his view, but he could see Manning from the waist down. She was talking to someone just out of sight.

‘Things are falling into place. Reid doesn’t suspect a thing.’

‘This is a strange alliance.’ The voice was strong and resonant. Hal craned to see who was speaking

‘That doesn’t matter if it works to our mutual benefit. Now, timing is essential. Are you prepared?’

‘I am. Are you? There will be great hardship for your kind.’

‘I’m ready. Don’t worry about me-’

Hal bumped against the door and rattled the blind in his attempt to see the mysterious visitor. Immediately, he sprinted quietly along the corridor and turned the corner on to the stairs just as the office door opened. He was sure Manning hadn’t seen him, or if she had glimpsed him wouldn’t be able to identify him, but he was angry with himself for alerting her before any action could be taken.

He slipped out of the building into the heart of the blizzard, relieved that it would cover his tracks.

At Queen’s, Hal found Reid lounging in a chair, drinking a brandy in front of a blazing fire. He appeared at ease despite the impending crisis.

‘Ms Manning,’ Hal said breathlessly. ‘I think she’s a traitor. I think she’s going to sell us all down the river.’

‘Sit down. Have a drink.’ Reid stood and thrust Hal into the chair by the fire, then stuffed a crystal glass of brandy into his hand. ‘Now, tell me what you know.’

Hal blurted out what he had seen. Reid listened intently, then muttered, ‘This changes everything.’

‘Are you going to arrest her?’

‘Of course. But if there’s a conspiracy, I want to know who else is involved before I tip my hand.’

‘She stressed that you didn’t suspect anything. I’m sorry if I’ve made her suspicious now.’

‘Don’t worry about it.’ Reid stared into the depths of the fire while he thought things through. Finally he said, ‘The Void is coming soon. I’ve got new intelligence. The only chance we have to stop it is to get the Brothers and Sisters of Dragons together.’ He turned to Hal. ‘I believe Hunter to be one of them.’

Hal said nothing.

‘The research carried out by Kirkham’s team suggests that the Brothers and Sisters of Dragons become active — if that’s the right word — in proximity to the crisis they’re meant to deal with, or they are quickly drawn to that area. We’d already profiled a great many people in Oxford — that’s why we’ve been carrying out a detailed census in recent weeks. Hunter was one of a very few who fit the profile.’

‘How did you know Oxford was going to be the centre of the crisis?’

‘The Government is here. It became obvious that this is where the last stand will be made.’ Reid downed the rest of his brandy. ‘I was ninety per cent sure about Hunter. When he disappeared with Mallory, I knew I was right.’ Reid eyed Hal. ‘Anything you want to say?’

Hal shook his head.

‘You’re his very best friend. I’m not stupid, you know. He must have told you.’

Hal remained silent, but Reid wasn’t offended. He shrugged and said, ‘I believe Hunter is getting his little band together. We need them here, now, if we are to stand a chance. Can you get word to him?’

‘I don’t think Hunter or any of the Brothers and Sisters of Dragons will work with the Government. They don’t trust you… us.’

Reid nodded. ‘Understandable, I suppose. In which case, I face a conundrum.’

‘I don’t know where they are, Mister Reid, and that’s the truth.’

‘Then all I’m asking of you, Hal — begging you — is that when Hunter does finally contact you, as he undoubtedly will, I want you to pass on to him the message that the last stand against the Void will be made here, and that he really needs to be with us. We’re in the final stage of this game, Hal, and what may be the twilight days of the human race. None of us must falter.’