The Queen of sinister

The new world came up at them in a flash of white and they hit it hard, crashing to their knees and sucking in a huge gulp of air as if they had fallen from a high place. A fleeting memory of somewhere wonderful and blue slipped from their thoughts the moment they tried to catch it. Yet the sensations came too thick and fast for reflection on the transition. Snow lay thickly all around and a blizzard roared with such force they had to hunch against it like old men, yelling so their disbelief and amazement could be heard. Within seconds they were shaking with the bitter cold.

Despite their situation, Caitlin's eyes sparkled with wonder. 'I can't believe it! We're… we're…'

'In Fairyland,' Crowther said wryly. Good humour transformed his face. 'For those who have studied the Kabbalah, this is Yesod, land of dreams, first staging post for the dead. We all go here in our sleep sometimes.' He looked around, scarcely believing it himself.

'This is… just… amazing.' Even though he was buffeted by the blizzard, Matt stretched out his arms so he could fill his lungs. 'The crossing was so… wild.' He struggled to find words to describe the experience. 'I felt like I was filled with energy… like my thoughts were electric… like they were spinning around the universe. And here, it's… magic.'

They all knew what he meant. The very essence of reality was heightened, as if they had walked through the screen into a movie. Colours were brighter, textures more evocative, aromas unbelievably heady, sounds so vibrant they had to stop and listen in amazement to the music the wind made. Suddenly there was no such thing as mundanity and boredom. Magic burned in even the smallest thing and anything was possible. The sheer wonder of it made their heads spin.

'It's like a drug,' Caitlin said. 'You could lose yourself in it.' She thought for a moment and then added, 'Who'd want to go back after experiencing something like this?'

'Who indeed?' Crowther said.

The cold was too much for them to wallow in the experience. 'We have to find shelter before we freeze to death,' Matt yelled. He took in their position in a second. At their backs were the loftiest mountains any of them had ever seen, the peaks snow-capped and filled with the dreams of childhood, solid against a sky of threatening slate-grey cloud. Protecting his eyes from the stinging snow, he motioned down the slope.

The snow was knee-deep and it was hard going as they trudged downwards, but at least the gale was at their backs. Soon Matt spotted a gully filled with boulders as large and misshapen as mythological beasts. He led them directly into it, relishing the protection it gave them from the wind and the worst of the snow.

Once in the shelter, they relaxed a little, but after the initial exhilaration, worries surfaced. Mahalia checked back up the slopes, the haunting images of the Whisperers still echoing through her mind. 'Can they follow us?' she asked.

'I don't know,' Crowther replied, 'but I have no intention of waiting around to find out.' Caitlin was still dazed by the crossing. More than for the rest of them, the lure of the blue world they had passed through so quickly remained strong. 'What did they do to that poor man?' she said. 'It was as if they'd tried to turn him into one of them.' 'He looked like some kind of zombie,' Mahalia said. 'Maybe that's what they do — take people over.' Matt was checking his arm. 'What is it?' Crowther asked. 'The hermit guy wounded me. Pretty badly.' Matt held up his arm to show them. 'But it's healed.' 'A quality of the Blue Fire,' Crowther said. 'It has strong healing properties-' 'That blue, blue world…' Caitlin said dreamily. Carlton started suddenly, his eyes wide. 'What is it, mate?' Mahalia hurried to his side and followed his gaze, but there was only the thick snow running along the edge of the gully and the grey sky beyond. The boy shook his head, unsure. 'He's probably disorientated,' Crowther said. 'Understandable. We've done something remarkable here — travelled between worlds to a place that has influenced our dreams for millennia-' 'Oh, stop being so pompous,' Mahalia said. 'Carlton's probably dealing with it better than you. Don't forget-' 'I know,' Crowther said, adding in a childishly mocking voice, 'he's special.' Mahalia shook her head in disgust at the professor's immature manner before leading Carlton gently away. 'Don't worry, mate,' she said gently, 'we'll keep a good lookout.' They continued to pick their way along the gully, their teeth chattering. The gully ridge and the boulders obscured any view of their exact location, although it was clear they were on the lower slopes of the monolithic range. As they edged their way round a rock as big as a house, Matt threw an arm across Crowther's chest to stop him and pointed to the thick snow at the gully ridge. Two red spots blazed like hot coals. They disappeared, came back again, and then there was a flurry of snow and they were gone.

'Eyes,' Crowther said in shock.

'Something's tracking us.' Mahalia remained cool as she eased one of the knives from beneath her jacket. Carlton huddled close to her. 'Don't worry, mate, I'll look after you,' she whispered comfortingly. She eyed Caitlin coldly, fending off Caitlin's attempt to move in to comfort Carlton herself.

'Come on, Prof,' Matt said quietly, 'you're the expert here. What kind of predators should we be looking out for?'

Crowther's laugh was not comforting. 'Think of your worst nightmare, then expect something ten times more hideous. This is the land where anything is possible, good or bad. If we thought we were slipping down the food chain on our world, here-'

'I get the idea, Prof. Thanks for putting my mind at ease.' Matt continued to lead the way, but his eyes never stopped searching the surroundings.

Eventually the gully opened out on to a small, exposed plateau where the snow lay thickly. Beyond it, the land gradually fell away again and the snow soon gave way to another mass of the enormous boulders. 'Looks as if we're nearly in the foothills, Matt said. 'Should be easier going if we can get across this bit.' He didn't need to give voice to his fear that this would be the place where whatever was tracking them would attack; there was no cover, no place to run. At least they would be able to see it coming.

The snow was calf-high as they lurched into it, crunching underfoot like gravel. But they hadn't gone far when the two red eyes appeared suddenly on the ground six feet ahead of Matt. He half-turned, ready to urge the others to sprint back to the gully. Something rose up from the ground, as white as the snow that had concealed it. At first glance it resembled an enormous jellyfish with a crab-shell head from beneath which the two eyes glowed. But then they saw that beneath the strangely shaped skull it had a human form and what they had taken for the jellyfish-like drifting appendages were glistening white clothes hanging from its shoulders in tattered rags.

'I search for the Cailleach Bheur,' the thing said in a voice that sounded like glass breaking. 'She may release the Fimbulwinter.'

Everyone in the group was struck dumb by the terrifyingly strange apparition looming before them. It swayed from side to side in a manner that suggested it was uncomfortable and they realised it couldn't quite understand the effect it was having on them.

'We… we can't help you,' Crowther replied eventually, his mouth dry. 'I'm sorry.'

'What are you?' Caitlin asked in the frightened voice of Amy.

The thing moved forwards as if blown by the wind until it stood in front of Caitlin, and those frightening red eyes burned into her face. 'I see ice in you?' it said, puzzled. Then, as if realising it had acted impolitely, it stepped back and held out arms swathed in the white tatters. 'I am Moyaanisqi, known as the White Walker. I roam across all worlds. My home is the great wilderness, the frozen plains, the chill peaks. But what,' it added curiously, 'are you?'

'We're… humans,' Crowther replied awkwardly.

'Humans?' The White Walker thought for a moment, then exclaimed, 'Fragile Creatures! I have seen your kind from afar when I have wandered the great mountain ranges of the Fixed Lands in search of the Cailleach Bheur, but never so close. Fragile Creatures!' There was wonder in its voice, as if they were the fantastical beings.

'You've been to our world?' Caitlin asked. 'Many times, though my long quest has made me solitary and wary of contact with others. I roved the high places and the white wastes for a time, leaving only the prints of my feet behind, finding nothing. And so I moved on, here, to the Far Lands. Perhaps my journey will take me further afield again.'

'Then you have seen many things.' There was a gleam in Crowther's eye.

'Many things.'

'We are searching for a place called the House of Pain, though I suppose it may have another name. Could you direct us to it?'

The White Walker thought long and hard, then shook its strange crab-head slowly. 'It may lie in the burning places where I cannot pass. But if that is so, then you may encounter the Djazeem who abide in the great sand- deserts. There is a word of power I know that will make them do your bidding. Whisper it to them and they will be empowered to take you to your destination.' It looked intently into all of their faces and then returned to Caitlin. 'You. For in you there is not only ice, but also the fire that does not burn. You will carry the word of power.'

Caitlin/Amy shied away, but the White Walker moved rapidly to whisper into her ear. Whatever it said, it affected Caitlin profoundly, for she fell to her knees, dazed.

'You will not recall the word until you need it, but it is there. That is my gift to you.' It stared at them, shaking its head in amazement. 'Fragile Creatures!' Then it drew itself up and turned to go. 'Now I must continue my search, for the Cailleach Bheur never rests and the worlds must not come to an end.'

Crowther called out one more question. 'Who should we ask for guidance?' The White Walker waved its tatters towards the lowlands. 'Follow this path to another gully and then to the plain. I have heard tell there is a place nearby where live many who were once Golden Ones, but are no longer. They may know more. Farewell.'

Before they could answer, it was gone, perfectly lost against the snowy background.

'What,' Matt said in a state of extreme awe, 'was that?'

'In the Dyak dialect of Borneo, there is a word,' Crowther mused, 'ngarong. It means a secret helper who appears in a dream. And, my friend, you will soon learn that this is very much a dream.' They made their way into another gully below the snowline. The way was uneven underfoot, and they had to pick their way carefully so as not to plunge on to the jagged rocks that lay all around. Broken-backed, skeletal trees pointed their way down the mountainside, at once cosily familiar yet somehow eerily alien. Such was the confusion of outcroppings that they couldn't measure their location against anywhere beyond their immediate surroundings.

Eventually, the rocky mountainside gave way to gentler slopes where wild grasses and flowers grew in abundance, and the trees became sturdier and thick with leaves. The temperature increased several degrees, but they still couldn't get their bearings or even tell the time of day, for a thick fog hung low, the air infused with fine droplets of moisture that soaked them to the skin within minutes.

Caitlin had the odd sensation that the scenery was creating itself just beyond her perception, shaping itself to fit her expectations. And if she allowed herself to dwell on that notion, she then had the disturbing feeling that there was an intellect all around her, in everything — the grass, the fog, the stones beneath her feet. She walked on the face of an infinite god, which could open its mouth and gobble her up in an instant. The notion set the voices at the back of her head chattering like monkeys in the jungle. They broke the journey for a while and slept, possibly for hours, but it was difficult to tell because it was still daylight when they awoke. When they set off once more, Crowther strode on ahead, using his staff like a rudder to steer them. Caitlin and Matt followed closely at his heels with Mahalia and Carlton bringing up the rear. After her initial euphoria, Mahalia had returned to her brooding, continually watching their surroundings with suspicion, which Caitlin decided was not a bad thing. But Carlton was bright and excited, skipping here and there to examine each new landmark as if he were on the holiday of a lifetime.

'I didn't realise you were such a fighter,' Caitlin said to Matt as they waded through waist-high grass that rippled around them like a green sea. 'You were a natural back at the Rollrights.'

Matt shrugged uncomfortably. 'It's amazing what you find inside you when you really need it.'

'Well, I'm glad you're here.'

'I want to prove my worth. I still feel like a hanger-on. Professor Crowther…'

'Ignore him. He's grumpy about everything. Whatever he says, I bet he's secretly glad you're along for the ride.'

Matt shifted uncomfortably, then said, 'There's no easy way to put this, but… are you feeling OK?'

'You mean the voices? I don't want-' Shards of glass were suddenly being driven into her brain. Her hands shot to cover her eyes.

'I'm sorry…'

But his question had released some of the pressure and words came out unbidden. 'There are four of them, apart from me, all sitting in an Ice-Field, looking out into the night.' She approached the image hesitantly, like a sleeping jungle beast.

'You're aware of them?'

'All the time.'

'How does that feel?' He looked uncomfortable at his probing, but couldn't help his curiosity.

'Like they're all me, but not me. I know that doesn't make any sense, but I can't describe it any other way. There's a pressure in my head, as if they're all jammed in, each one trying to force themselves forward. Me… Caitlin… I'm a little stronger, so most of the time I can stay at the front. But if one of the others became stronger…' She really didn't want to consider that. 'In a strange way, they help.'

'How's that?'

'Most of the time they stop me thinking about Grant and Liam.' Two graves, a stormy night; her mind shifted with a tempest-driven lurch. 'Even mentioning their names, I know… I could go mad if I allowed myself to think about it.' She laughed bitterly. 'Mad! Madder… maddest… My sanity is hanging on a cliff edge by its fingertips, and the slightest thing could send it plunging into some big black hole, never to return. The others… it feels as if they're keeping all my thoughts and feelings chained up, keeping me steady. If it wasn't for them, I wouldn't be here.' She chewed her lip until it hurt. 'I'd probably be dead.'

'Don't say that.'

She was surprised by the concern in his voice. 'I can't help it. Sometimes I wonder what's the point in going on. It's just misery all around us and misery waiting for us in the future. Sometimes I try to fool myself with optimism, hope, but the truth is always there, casting a shadow over anything. I wish I could feel pure again. I wish I could feel happy.'

She had the impression that Matt wanted to put his arm around her shoulder to comfort her, but he restrained himself, and while a part of her was glad he did, another just wanted to feel some human comfort. 'How are you holding up?'

'You cope, don't you?' he said. 'There's nothing else to do. Everybody's been trying so hard to hold things together since the Fall. It made us a Third World country overnight. Yeah, we've been clawing our way back — the interim government in Oxford is doing a good job…'

'Government? I never heard about that.'

'The news hasn't fanned out yet. You know what communication is like. I thought when Rosetta went, that was it. After Jan left, I was only really doing things for her — you know, getting through each day, making sure food was on the table, for what it was worth. But then I saw how everybody else was pulling together and I thought I was just being selfish for thinking about giving up. Now, more than ever, we need each other. I've got a part to play, however bad my personal situation.'

Whether he intended it or not, his words struck a chord with Caitlin. Their conversation dried up as she retreated deep into herself where the cold winds of the Ice-Field blew. By the time they'd got through the fog, night swathed the countryside and a heavy rain dampened their spirits.

Mahalia increased her pace until she was beside Crowther and then gripped his arm forcefully. 'I'm cold and I'm wet and I'm tired and I'm hungry,' she said. 'Where's this city?'

'They don't really make maps of this place,' Crowther replied with irritation. 'Now shut up — you sound like a whining brat.'

'Are you sure we're up to dealing with the things we're going to meet in this place?' Matt asked. 'The White Walker was about the most bizarre thing I could imagine, but at least it was friendly. We may not be so lucky next time.'

'I don't think we really have a choice, do we?' Crowther replied curtly.

Carlton began to tug on the professor's sleeve. Crowther rounded on the boy, then caught himself when he saw Mahalia and Caitlin's glares. 'What is it?' the professor said in clipped tones.

Excitedly, Carlton pointed across the sweeping grassland into the dark rain-swept distance. Gradually the others picked out flickering lights that they had first taken to be twinkling stars.

'I don't want to go there.' The tiny, frightened voice of Amy chilled them all. The fortress city rose up the side of one of the foothills into the dark, vast even in the part they could see illuminated by the light of the torches that blazed along the ramparts. A jumbled mass of towers and spires, domes, vaults, steeples and the pitched roofs of myriad smaller dwellings, all of them crammed so closely together that the city resembled some Third World sprawl, the layout so confused and organic that what lay beyond the light could have stretched on for ever.

The city walls at the front rose up two hundred feet or more, the lowest part of them constructed from gargantuan boulders, as if the city had grown naturally from the earth. An ebony gate six storeys high was set in front of a rough road that wound across the plain. On either side of it, roaring flames hissed in the rain.

If they hadn't known better, they would have said the city itself was alive, for it exuded an oppressive, brooding presence, and as they stood before those massive gates they couldn't escape the feeling that it was surveying them with a forensic eye to decide if they were worthy to enter. For the first time, Crowther was so disturbed that they all thought he might turn back, but after a moment's hesitation he marched forwards, held up his fist for one cautious instant and then hammered on the gate. The pounding that rang out from his knock was distorted beyond all reason into a deafening alarum that made them cover their ears. Beyond the gates, the thunderous warning ran along winding streets into the heart of the city.

'At least they heard us,' Crowther said. The humour fell flat. Caitlin/Amy clutched on to Matt's arm and whimpered. Carlton, however, held his head high and walked forward to stand beside Crowther. He appeared more curious than anything.

They waited in unbearable anticipation as the echoes rang out, eyeing each other fitfully. After long moments, they heard the clunk of some locking mechanism, and then the gates slowly ground open. There was no one on the other side.

It took a while for them to pick out the detail of what lay beyond the shadows clustered under the arch of the gate; not because it was dark, for torches burned everywhere, but because their eyes appeared to mist over, or because their brains took an unusually long time to piece together an image from the information they were receiving.

Eventually they agreed that a cobbled street wound up the hillside into shadow amongst houses of varying styles — most prominently medieval and Tudor — clustering so hard against the road that they threatened to swallow it. The claustrophobia was palpable.

All five of them hesitated, unsure if they should enter, until figures emerged from the shadows. They were men, barely more than five feet tall, clad in leather and steel that was not quite armour but not quite clothes. They had long hair and beards, but their eyes were the most disturbing thing. Flat and cold, they showed no personality, nothing human at all. Crowther made a strange, nervous noise in his throat and stifled it with embarrassment. 'We are visitors from the Fixed Lands,' he began. He'd practised the words a hundred times in his head, as he had learned in the college, but they still sounded strange. 'Do you accept us freely and without obligation?'

The cold, unnerving stares of the guards did not waver, but after a few seconds a slightly taller guard stepped forward from the group. Crowther was pleased to see a little more life in his eyes. 'Is that a Sister of Dragons I see before me?' His gaze was fixed on Caitlin.

Crowther followed his stare, unsure how to respond. 'If you say so.'

The chief guard nodded thoughtfully and motioned for them to enter. Matt began to step forward, but Crowther held him back with an arm across his chest. 'Do you accept us freely and without obligation?' Crowther asked again.

The chief guard eyed him slyly. 'We do. Now follow me.'

Caitlin/Amy buried her face in Matt's shoulder as they walked into the city and the gates boomed shut behind them. They were led through the steeply winding cobbled streets for nearly half an hour. Houses, inns and shops pressed oppressively on either side and leaned in over their heads so that only a thin sliver of sky was visible. Occasionally they would glimpse strange faces peering at them through bottle-glass windows that distorted the inner torchlight into starbursts. Sometimes they would hear whispered comments that they couldn't understand, but which disturbed them immensely. Finally they rounded a corner into a small cobbled square with a mildewed fountain, no longer working. The water in the stagnant pool around it was stained with green slime. On the far side stood a threatening building that towered over the surrounding rooftops. It echoed the construction of the city itself, monolithic walls soaring up into the darkness, devoid of ornamentation, like a slab of granite.

The leader of the guards turned to them with a strange smile. 'We bid you welcome to the Court of Soul's Ease.' Inside the enormous building — which they had decided was a palace or a city hall, though it contained none of the opulence one would have expected to find in either of those places — a chill exuded from the stone walls that penetrated deep into their bones. Impenetrable shadows lay all around and even the flickering torches that lighted their way did little to dispel them. The pervading atmosphere was one of waiting for a terrible event that could never be deflected.

The five travellers were led along interminable corridors, occasionally glimpsing vast vaulted halls through half-open doors where only the echoes of footsteps lived. But as they progressed deeper into the heart of the building, they saw more of the strange small people, flitting across their path carrying secretive bundles or gossiping conspiratorially in pairs, hidden in alcoves, hands raised to cover their mouths. They would watch the procession pass with intense speculation; Caitlin couldn't tell if they were fearful or threatening, or simply contemptuous. There was an overpowering sense of intelligence moving through the shadows, of plotting and waiting, of secret treaties and backroom murders.

'I don't think I've breathed since we crossed over,' Matt whispered, possibly to himself.

Caitlin came forward from the cold hiding place where she had been watching events through Amy's eyes, distanced and protected. 'We never dreamed,' she said. 'Or perhaps we did dream… but we never believed.' 'I wonder how differently we would have lived our lives if we had realised all these things existed just behind the scenery,' Matt continued. The whites of his eyes occasionally gleamed from the shadowy pools of their orbits. He noticed Mahalia was walking so close to him that her shoulder occasionally brushed his arm. 'Don't be scared,' he said.

'I'm not scared.' She glared at him scornfully and then ostentatiously dropped two steps back, but Caitlin saw her right hand sneak under her jacket, ready.

'What are they?' Caitlin asked uneasily.

Crowther glanced back, his entire face lost in the gloom beneath the brim of his hat. 'They're the source of all our myths and legends — they're our gods.' He laughed bitterly. 'Fairies. Elves. All the old stories and the abiding tales, from the campfire to the library. Everything that bursts from the wellspring of imagination. Crossing over into our world, darting back before we could really be sure we'd seen anything. Sometimes staying for a little simple torment. Jung was right, though I venture he never imagined it quite this way.'

'It's hard to see them as gods,' Matt said.

'They didn't always look this way. They've been… diminished,' Crowther replied.

Crowther's attention returned to the guards as they took a sharp left into a large room where the only light came from a blazing log fire in an enormous stone fireplace. As their eyes adjusted to the hellish glow, they saw shapes around the room, sitting in high-backed chairs talking in hushed tones, hunched over a map resting on a large oak table, more whispers, more plots, but in this room there was a feeling of sleeping power.

The chief guard stepped forward. 'My Lord,' he said into the half-light, 'here are Fragile Creatures, washed up at our door on this night. And a Sister of Dragons.'

The residents of the room stiffened as one. Goose- bumps ran up Caitlin's arms. What did that phrase mean? Was it linked to the vision Mary had, when the world had been a different place? And why did it haunt her so?

'Come closer.' The voice was the source of the power they had sensed. It came from a chair near the fire, where a small man with long black hair and beard and pointed ears glanced up from the flames. His eyes gleamed red in the firelight, red and thoughtful.

The others made to approach, but the guards raised short stubby swords to hold them back so that only Caitlin was allowed to move. The four presences squirmed at the back of her head, but she held them back; she would be brave.

'I'm Caitlin,' she said.

He looked her up and down. 'A Sister of Dragons.'

'I don't know what that means.'

'No. You never do.' He surveyed her intently, then said with a strange note to his voice, 'You are the Broken Woman.' Caitlin didn't know what to say to that, and after a moment's silence the lord returned his gaze to the fire. It may have been the way the light made the shadows fall on his face, but he appeared to be carrying a tremendous burden. 'In the days of the tribes, your kind would have known me as Lugh, though few from that time would now recognise me. On occasion, I fear the cycles are repeating, that I will grow smaller and smaller until…' He looked up sharply with a flash of anger, as if Caitlin had hurt him. 'Why have you come here?'

Caitlin's mouth was dry, but she forced the words out. 'My people are dying from a plague. We were told that the cure is here, on this world somewhere…'

'And you seek it?' He gave a dismissive shrug. 'Small battles fought by a small people. As always, you are unaware of the great sweep of events.'

'Can… can you help us?' she ventured nervously.

'Perhaps.'

'Please, we're in a hurry,' Caitlin pleaded. 'If we don't find a cure quickly…'

'Time has no meaning here,' Lugh interrupted. 'You are fortunate to have found your way to the Court of Soul's Ease. Other courts would not have been so welcoming.'

'Some would,' a bitter voice called from the back of the room. 'In some places, they would have been raised up on high.'

Cold laughter rustled through the shadows. Caitlin grew frightened.

'We remain neutral,' Lugh said. 'For now.'

'Are you waiting for something?' Caitlin changed the subject, worried that the conversation was going in a dangerous direction.

Lugh glanced her way briefly. 'Yes, we wait. We wait for war.' He waved her away morosely. 'You will be shown to quarters. Move freely through the court, but avoid the low-town. Some… undesirables outstay their welcome there. We will talk again.'

Before Caitlin could press her case further, the guards had ushered her and the others back out into the oppressive maze of corridors. They were shown to windowless rooms that offered little comfort apart from a wooden bed and hard mattress, a coarse blanket, a reed rug on the flags and a bedside table on which stood a stubby candle.

Hunger nagged at them all, and the chief guard suggested they make their way to a tavern tucked away amongst the twisty-turny streets, where they would be provided with food and drink. 'But,' he cautioned, 'move quickly through the streets at night, for the court, in its munificence, has thrown open its gates to all manner of residents of the Far Lands, and many are inimical to Fragile Creatures. They reside not only in the low-town.' Following his directions, they set out along the rain- slicked cobbled streets, carefully watching the numerous dark alleys and shadowed doorways along the route.

'Was it just me,' Mahalia said, 'or did it seem as if they'd have been just as happy slitting our throats and tossing us over the walls?'

'They're cautious,' Crowther said. 'They don't want to come down on the wrong side.'

'You know more than you're saying.' There was a combative note in Matt's voice.

'He learned it all in his little college in Glastonbury,' Mahalia chided sarcastically.

'You ought to share it,' Matt said. 'We're all in this together. Any information that might help us work out what's going on…'

'All right,' Crowther snapped. 'There's no need to harangue me.' He was clearly less able to resist Matt than he was Caitlin, Mahalia and Carlton. 'I was taught by someone who had visited this place. The information he brought back, the knowledge he amassed during the period of the Fall, formed a significant part of the teachings.'

A man, or what they took to be a man, rushed out of one of the side streets and was so intent on staring fearfully over his shoulder that he almost crashed into them. He was unnaturally tall and thin and was wearing a large floppy-brimmed hat that hid his face. 'Have you heard the news?' he said, nonplussed by their presence. 'The Lord of Vengeance has been sighted roaming the Marches of Gisbourg beyond the Wish-Lakes to the east. Truth. I was told.' He made a snipping-scissor motion with both his hands. 'It's an omen. Everything's coming to an end.' He shifted his head and the torchlight caught his face. They all shrank back when they saw that his eyes had been sewn shut.

Somehow he loped away on his needle-thin legs in a straight line into the next dark alley. 'For God's sake, let's get somewhere a little safer.' Crowther nodded at a spot further down the street where they saw the tavern. Unlike many of the surrounding buildings, a welcoming light flooded out of the bottle-glass windows. A sign depicting a stylised sun with a smiling face swung heavily in the wind. By the time they had taken all this in, Crowther was already halfway to the door.

The tavern was filled with a hubbub of low, conspiratorial voices and a heady atmosphere of beer, sawdust, woodsmoke and spiced meat. But then they saw the clientele and once more they were struck dumb. There were more of the small, intense men and a few women, but the others were bizarre beyond imagining. Some were tall with insectile eyes, others swathed in fluttering rags that moved as if they were alive; some had wings, others horns; it was as though they had stepped into a scene from a child's fairy-tale.

'Bloody hell,' Crowther said under his breath.

The tavern's occupants stopped what they were doing to survey the new arrivals curiously, but their attention only remained for the briefest moments before they returned to talk of broken treaties, armies being amassed, subterfuge and deceit.

At the bar, the landlord, a stout beer-bellied man with ferocious eyebrows, offered them food and drink without asking for any recompense. He watched them suspiciously while pouring tankards of a deep black porter for the men and Carlton, and glasses of red wine for the women.

'You're too young to drink,' Matt said to Mahalia as she took the pewter goblet.

'I've killed people,' she said, and it was answer enough. Yet Mahalia still cautioned Carlton against drinking the beer and insisted on water for him instead.

They took a table next to one of the windows where they could look out into the deserted street, as the noise and warmth of the tavern wrapped itself seductively around them.

'It's time to talk,' Matt said to Crowther. It was clear to the others that Matt was highly suspicious of the professor and was not about to let him get away with anything.

'Who is Lugh?' Caitlin asked. She knew the question had come from Brigid inside her; strangely, the old woman appeared to know more than she did.

'Lugh was one of the gods of the Celts.' Crowther sipped his beer with an oddly self-satisfied air. 'When these beings, the Golden Ones as they were known, crossed over into our world millennia ago, the ancient Celts named this one Lugh and defined him as a sun god. The gods had a falling out with another group called the Fomorii, who were the basis for our myths of devils, I suppose. The gods retreated to the Far Lands — here, the Otherworld — and the loss of that battle diminished them in our eyes. They grew physically smaller, less powerful — though still imposing — and ended up walking into our stories as fairies.'

'How could the loss diminish them?' Matt said with keen interest.

'You will notice,' Crowther said patronisingly, 'that nothing here is as it seems. This land is fluid, and to a degree perception, and belief, shape Existence.'

'So because we were less scared of them, they became less powerful,' Mahalia chipped in.

'You're quite a clever girl behind that front.' Crowther gave her a smile, but she didn't return it.

'Tell me about this war — that's the important thing,' Matt said impatiently.

'Of course it is,' Crowther said blithely. 'Things don't get any more important. We're at a cusp, all of us, and it could go any way from here on in.' Carlton surprised them by leaning across the table and resting one hand on Crowther's arm. Most of the time he was invisible and for all but Mahalia it was easy to forget he was there, but sometimes Caitlin would catch him watching them all intently, and at those times she could see how much was going on inside his head. This time, his expression was grave. He exchanged a long intense glance with Crowther, and whatever passed between them made the professor grow more serious.

'The Fall was a crucible for humanity, though none of us could see it at the time. The seasons have turned, that was how it was put to me. Mankind now has the opportunity to move on from the position we've occupied ever since we came down from the trees. If we seize our chances, we can move on to the next level, the next stage of evolution. We can become…' He tried to pluck the right word from the air, failed. '… gods, I suppose.'

Matt eyed him with disbelief, but there was a glimmer of awe in his eyes. 'Gods?'

'We have the potential inside us — we were made that way. Now is our time. But-'

'But some of the other gods don't want us getting in their club,' Mahalia interjected.

'That's right.' Crowther took a long, deep draught of his beer. 'Some of them don't. Some of them accept that this is the way of Existence — always rising higher, attempting to reach… nirvana. And that is why they're on the brink of a civil war.'

'Is this for real?' Matt's voice was hushed, incredulous. 'What do we have to do?'

'Who knows?' Crowther made a dismissive gesture, but Caitlin saw his gaze fall briefly on Carlton. 'It has something to do with the Blue Fire, the earth energy. After being dormant for many years, it's now alive in the land again. I have no idea what that means, how it will affect us. It may be happening now; we may have to wait a millennium. The cycles of Existence don't operate on our timescale.' 'But if we could hurry it along…' Matt said breathlessly. 'If, if, if.' Crowther waved him silent. 'Strategically, this will work in our favour. Normally, our chances of making any headway at all through the Far Lands would be close to nil. But with the Golden Ones divided… some of them supporting humanity and others undecided and not wishing to do anything to offend us, you at least stand a chance of making some progress.' 'You?' Caitlin said. 'I'm not coming with you. I've done my bit, getting you here.' They all looked at him in surprise. 'But I thought-' Caitlin began. 'No,' Crowther said firmly. 'You won't convince me.' 'We need you!' Caitlin protested. 'No, you don't.' 'Why did you bother coming at all?' Matt said. 'I have my reasons.' 'Who cares?' Mahalia said. 'Do we need him? I don't think so.' 'But you know so much,' Caitlin said directly to him. 'I don't know much at all.' Crowther concentrated on his beer, uncomfortable now. 'But what you do know could be the difference between life and death for us,' she persisted. He looked into Caitlin's face briefly but couldn't bear what he saw there. He stared into the depths of his tankard and then said, 'I'll give you one piece of information to send you on your way, Sister of Dragons.' He looked at her from under his heavy brows. 'What does that mean?' 'Dragons are the symbol of the Blue Fire, the earth energy, that vital spiritual power that fills everything. Yet these Fabulous Beasts are more than symbol — they're reality. They are the key. The spirit-power is the key.' He took another long draught. 'The distinction between belief systems we saw in modern times is false. The Dragon Power underpins every single religion, however disparate, from ancient Chinese spirituality to Christianity. Medieval Christian art made the connection explicit, with paintings of Christ the Dragon. It makes you think a little differently about those old biblical stories, eh? The serpent in the Garden of Eden. Decode them and the truth emerges.'

'What truth?' Caitlin said. 'You're being deliberately oblique, as usual.'

'Well, let me be direct, then. The Dragon Power flows directly to the Godhead, and certain people are infused with it, to act as… champions, I suppose. Gallant knights who will fight for all that's right in the universe, regardless of creed or culture or political belief. A universal Tightness.'

'Me?' Caitlin said in disbelief, but the prophecy Mary had made now fell into sharp relief.

'The Pendragon Spirit is in you. It was the reason I was sent straight to your friend's door.'

'I'm no champion.'

'Yes, I know. Difficult to believe, isn't it?'

'What is it, Carlton?' Mahalia had noticed that the boy was growing anxious. He kept looking round as if he expected someone to attack them, but all the drinkers continued their quiet, intense conversations, seemingly oblivious. A few seconds later, the door burst open and a fat man in a half-squashed hat was blown in by a gust of rain. He was in a state of high anxiety. 'The Lament- Brood!' he called out. The entire tavern fell silent. 'They are here, beyond the walls!'

The hanging moment broke in a burst of agitated voices and activity. Some ran out of the tavern, others huddled closer to the fire, clutching their drinks tightly against their chests.

'They've followed us here?' Caitlin said. Inside, Amy was sobbing.

'I think we should go and see.' Matt stood up. Beyond the window, they could see people running down the street.

'I think I'll stay here, if you don't mind,' Crowther said, looking to the bar for another beer. 'Keep me informed if it's anything to be concerned about.'

Matt and Caitlin made it to the door, then Caitlin turned back and beckoned for Mahalia and Carlton to follow.

'I thought you were going to leave us with that prat,' Mahalia said, though her face showed no gratitude.

Flitting shapes moved down the steeply sloping streets towards the walls, searching for some vantage point. They acted like people tasting the uncertain edge of fear for the first time.

'In here.' Matt caught Caitlin's arm and pulled her into the entrance to a tall tower. The door was open, and they quickly made their way up spiral steps worn by what must have been thousands of years of feet. At times the steps were so precarious that they threatened to plunge any climber back down to their deaths. At the top, the steps opened out on to a small balcony running around the circumference of the tower, far above the confusion of slate roofs. The rain had abated and there was a clear view to the plains beyond the walls.

They knew instantly what was there before seeing any detail. 'Oh, no,' Caitlin said dismally.

Mahalia came up beside her, and when Caitlin looked into her face the hardness had dissipated, and for the first time she saw the desperate, innocent girl trapped within. 'They're never going to leave us alone, are they?' The girl's small voice was caught by the wind and whisked out towards the battlements beyond which a purple mist coalesced, filled with despair and the end of all hope. Mary's head throbbed and her throat felt as dry as the dusty road along which she walked. Delirium tremens made her feel like an invalid, or fifteen years older than her true age, and although she'd washed profusely in a stream, she still couldn't get rid of the occasional whiff of vomit. She'd got through the bottle of whiskey and cleaned out all the other alcohol she could find in the house — some cider, a couple of bottles of beer brewed by one of the villagers, some sloe wine (no alcohol lasted for long and she was lucky she had that amount) — but she still yearned for more, while at the same time hating herself for the desire.

It's not a problem, she said with the alcoholic's deranged conviction, while the real her that lived at the back of her head looked on with impotent despair.

She hadn't wanted to leave her cosy cottage and carefully structured life to venture out into the chaos of the world — it was too dangerous, filled with night-terrors even in the midday glare — and for a while she had almost convinced herself that it wasn't her responsibility to try to find some way to help Caitlin, that there was nothing she could do anyway, so what was the point. That had been the way she had lived for so many years, existing with a fear that had grown out of self-loathing; what had happened to her at the end of the sixties had contaminated the rest of her life. In some people's eyes, her transgression might have been only a small thing. To her, it was a blinding revelation of who she really was, and that terrible disappointment was something she thought she would never get over. Even now she couldn't think about that single moment; it remained, unconsidered, like toxic waste polluting her subconscious. And so her thoughts had naturally turned to Caitlin, unable to say goodbye to the husband and son she loved, and Mary had felt the heat rise within her: Caitlin would never suffer as she had suffered; Caitlin would not see her life dribble away in might-have-beens. Mary was more determined than she ever had been about anything else before.

She would never be able to live with herself if anything happened to Caitlin that she could have prevented. And so she had steeled herself with the alcohol — while knowing that steeling was just an excuse — and when she was too drunk to consider the fear she took the old rucksack she had packed, with Arthur Lee poking his head out of one side, and set out on the road.

It was going to be a long journey, certainly the first leg, and she guessed there would probably be more after that — these kinds of things never went simply — so she'd also secreted several weapons about her person. Food would be a problem, but she knew enough about wild herbs and plants to find herself some sustenance, but she would really need protein and the chances of her catching a rabbit or a bird were, she guessed, slim.

She paused on the brow of a hill and surveyed the green fields stretching out into the glare of the morning sun. It had taken her a long time to decide on her destination, involving much pondering, more attempts at communing with the powers that be, many of them failed. It quickly became apparent that she would need to seek guidance from something more potent.

And that was only really available in the old places, the sites that had been marked out by the ancient people in the dim dawn of mankind, when humans were more sensitive to what was around them, not dulled by civilisation's many drugs. She considered Stonehenge and Avebury, wondered about venturing even further afield, but she decided she needed something specific to her predicament. She needed to talk to a god. Not one of the gods rumoured to have returned with the Fall, but something higher. An old, old archetype; a power from the very beginning of it all.

Further down the road, there was a crossroads. From a distance it had appeared as deserted as the majority of the surrounding countryside, but as she approached, a figure had mysteriously become visible, standing next to the old wooden signpost that marked the crossing of the ways. She squinted, blinked; it was as though she was viewing the scene through a rippling heat haze. But after a few more steps, her vision cleared and she realised it was a man in old tattered clothes, leaning on a strangely incongruous staff that had some kind of worked shape to it. His grey hair was wild and wispy around his head and as she neared she saw his skin was filthy with the mud of the fields.

She slipped her hand into her pocket to grasp the handle of the already open penknife. At the same time, she felt a ringing in her teeth and a dull ache at the back of her head that reminded her of the unnerving sensations she had experienced when the stranger had visited to set her on this path. She still hadn't come to terms with who he was, or more precisely what, but she knew without a doubt that his kind scared her on some fundamental level.

As she neared the crossroads, her senses screamed at her to run. Whatever it was that she sensed about the man made her stomach turn and her thoughts skitter frantically; it felt like two magnets of opposing polarity being forced together. It was clear that he was waiting for her.

Even when she was a few feet away she said nothing, even tried to slip by, but his eyes widened with a hideous warning, forcing her to a sharp halt.

'Are you here to help me?' she asked, queasily.

Those filthy lips moved, but there was an unnerving second-long dislocation before the sound actually emerged. 'You must beware. You have been noticed.'

'Who's noticed me?' Mary thought she was really about to vomit; she desperately fought back the bile.

'The… Void.'

Mary had the impression that the stranger wasn't used to speaking English, wasn't used to any kind of language she could comprehend. 'The Void? What's that?'

His eyes grew wide once more and she backed away a step, unable to look him in the face. Fear engulfed her and she thought she might faint. But when he spoke again, his words were measured. 'Each day, your lives play out in rhythms, lat-dat, lat-dat, lat-dat, without change, without significance. And then, one day, a break… awareness… direction. Import.'

'I've been noticed… because I'm doing something important. And something's going to try to stop me.' Her fear changed, became deeper, colder. What was the stranger hinting at? Who had noticed her? Who was after her?

She suddenly felt tiny, manipulated by powers beyond her understanding, and from that came the question to which she dreaded the answer. 'Where do you come from?'

There was a long, trenchant pause, and then, 'I come from above…'

'Above?'

'… behind, beneath, beside…'

His words made her shiver, and reminded her explicitly of something she had heard when she was learning the Craft: 'There are beings around us all the time. We can't see them, but they can see us. They can see what we've done. And what we will do.'

'Go!' The word boomed out, and Mary almost fell to her knees. There was a terrible rage in the stranger's face. 'Go… and beware!'

She turned and ran down the road, tears burning her eyes. She had the awful feeling that her death was virtually decided. When she did finally recover enough feeble courage to look back, the crossroads was empty. Beyond the walls, the Whisperers waited, a haunting vision that transfixed Caitlin, Matt, Mahalia and Carlton at the top of the tower. After a while, Mahalia left Caitlin and Matt, irritated by what she saw was an obvious attraction between the two; though how anyone could contemplate affection for someone as clearly insane as that mad bitch was beyond her. Out on the cobbles, she turned to Carlton and felt instantly calmed by his warm, beatific smile. 'What are we doing here, mate?' she asked gently.

He gave a Who knows? shrug, but Mahalia didn't believe it for a second, and then he nodded back towards the grim palace.

'OK, we'll go back,' she said. 'We could both do with a good sleep.' She was overcome with a wave of affection and gave him a big hug. 'I'm really glad you're with me, matey.'

He hugged her back and then broke free, grabbing her hand to drag her up the street.

'I wish you could talk,' she said, gradually slipping into the familiar state where she used Carlton as a sounding board for her own thoughts and insecurities. 'Don't get me wrong, I don't doubt you — I couldn't, not after what I've seen. But I'd really like to hear exacdy what you know about what's going on… it's so hard to keep at it without knowing what we're doing or where we're going.'

He turned and looked at her seriously. In his big, dark eyes, she thought she could see the universe turning. 'I do trust you, Carlton,' she stressed.

They continued the rest of the journey in silence, but Mahalia's thoughts occasionally turned to the question that troubled her: not what Carlton knew, but how he knew it. In the palace, she was afraid she'd never remember the mazey route back to their rooms, but Carlton did not hesitate. Yet when they weren't far from their chambers, Carlton stopped sharply and then propelled Mahalia into a shadowy alcove, pressing his finger to his lips to silence her. She could only guess that he'd heard something beyond her range.

A clanking sound slowly came into her hearing, followed shortly after by two of the short bearded guards, who were herding a tall youth along the corridor. Mahalia could tell he was quite young from his frame, but beyond that it was impossible to know anything more about him — a thick black hood covered his head, with only two eyelets so that he could see where he was going. His upper body was wrapped in so many heavy iron chains that Mahalia was astonished he could move at all. His progress was unbearably slow as he coped with their weight, but he still held himself erect.

As he passed the alcove, a strange thing happened. Though Mahalia and Carlton were hidden deep in the shadows, his eyes flickered towards them as if they were in plain view. Those eyes were a startling grey-blue and filled with a pleading desperation that made Mahalia shiver.

Mahalia and Carlton waited until the prisoner and his guards were long gone before continuing on their way. It was just another strange thing in a very strange world, yet as she lay in her bed she couldn't shake the look the prisoner had given her, and sleep did not come for a long time.