The Hounds of Avalon (Gollancz S.F.) (32 page)

Mallory couldn’t afford to break his journey, but the old man was so desperate that he was on the verge of tears. ‘How far?’ he asked with irritation.

‘Two miles—’

‘Two miles! That’s about a day’s travelling in this weather!’

‘No, no, the road isn’t bad. The trees overhang, so it’s kept the snow off,’ he protested. ‘Please … my granddaughter …’

He wrung his hands and, for the first time, Mallory could see
that he was on the point of collapse; he must have walked the distance searching for help. Could Mallory ignore his plea, possibly sacrifice a woman to one of the nightmares that had stalked the land since the Fall? ‘Come on,’ he said wearily, holding out a hand to help the man on to the back of his horse. ‘Jesus, you’re lucky I’m such a soft touch.’

As they made their way along the lane, Mallory was relieved to find that the old man had not been lying. The snow lay thinly, marred only by the old man’s footprints.

‘What’s your name?’ Mallory asked.

‘Stanley Hahn.’

Mallory could feel the old man shaking from the cold as he clung on. ‘You’d better tell me what happened.’

‘My son and daughter-in-law died in the Fall,’ Stanley said in a fragile voice. ‘My granddaughter, Jenny, got us set up in Barnsley House just over the way. But last night there were strange lights in the gardens and then a fire … a big, big fire. We thought a plane had crashed. Jenny said she was going to investigate. I told her not to, but she never listens to me any more.’ He sobbed silently for a moment; when he managed to calm himself, he continued, ‘When she didn’t come back after half an hour, I went to see where she’d gone. There was a terrible snowstorm blowing. I could barely walk into it. And then … and then …’

‘You found her.’

‘The monster had her! It was all wrapped around her and they were both on fire. But Jenny wasn’t burning. I don’t understand it. I don’t—’

‘All right, calm down. She’s still with it?’

‘I ran back to the house to find a shotgun, but I was afraid of hitting Jenny. I went back this morning and she was still there … still standing with it … I didn’t know what to do. You’ll help me, won’t you? You’ll help?’

Mallory sighed, but it was answer enough for the old man, who proceeded to sob quietly with relief.

After a journey of fifteen minutes or so, the road brought them up to what looked like an enormous mansion, three hundred years old at least, built of Cotswold stone with large windows and tall chimneys, and set in formal gardens.

‘Is that it? Bloody hell, you’ve been living in a right old pile,’ Mallory said. ‘What’s this place again?’

‘Barnsley House. It’s famous. It used to have gardens that people came from all over the world to see. Bit overgrown now. Then it was turned into this plush hotel, but it was empty after the Fall so we moved in. Thought it would be safer here.’

‘The place is so big, if anybody came looking for you, it’d take them a month to find you inside.’

‘They’re in the pool garden. Will you go? I’m afraid.’

Twilight was already drawing in and Mallory considered leaving any confrontation to the morning, but he knew that the old man wouldn’t let him. ‘You get in the house. I’ll see what I can do.’

‘Thank you, thank you,’ the old man sobbed with pitiful gratitude.

Mallory lowered him to the ground, then turned his mount in the direction Stanley had indicated. An abiding stillness lay heavily on the thick snow. Yet as he surveyed the lengthening shadows of the black and white world, he felt an odd tingling deep inside him as though some invisible energy was radiating out from a source just ahead.

He rode on a little further and then dismounted. When he drew his sword, the blue light that always limned the blade was brighter than he had ever seen it. Cautiously, he made his way across the overgrown but still ordered gardens. He kept low, but it was impossible to progress quietly on the frosted snow.

Finally, he glimpsed a frozen pool through an entrance in a winding hedge. Blue light shimmered on the ice and surrounding snow and there was a tang of burned iron in the air. His heart beating insistently, he followed the light to its source.

The sight that greeted him was stunning; slowly, the sword drifted to his side. Blue Fire blazed without heat or sound, and at its heart, coiled around itself in a vast area of crushed trees, shrubs and hedges, was a Fabulous Beast more glorious than any Mallory had ever seen. In Salisbury, he had experienced them up close as they soared on the winds, leathery wings beating, metallic scales glinting red, gold and green as the furious flames belched from their mouths. But this one appeared to be made of the sapphire flames that raged around it; at times, Mallory could see through the scales to the vascular system beneath, and beyond, into its organs.
It was completely blue, and its eyes, as they probed him, were the deepest blue, too.

Standing motionless amongst the flames yet untouched by them was a slim, attractive woman in her thirties, her face the colour of alabaster and just as unmoving, made even paler by the long black hair that framed it. But it was her eyes that held Mallory. Unblinking, they were the mirror of the Fabulous Beast’s, as blue as the sky on a summer day.

The Fabulous Beast’s tail coiled tighter around her legs, as if it knew Mallory was about to drag her free; the tip of the tail tapped at her shin, like a cat’s.

Mallory was not afraid. The Fabulous Beast’s flaming breath could turn whole cities into an inferno; they were unpredictable, chaotic, terrifying in appearance. Yet Mallory was convinced that they were inherently a force for good, tied in some way to the spirit-energy that coursed through the earth itself.

As the blue light on his blade gleamed brighter still, Mallory realised that his sword was calling out to the Fabulous Beast, which in turn was calling out to the sword, and through it, to Mallory himself.

‘I suppose this is what being a Brother of Dragons means,’ he said.

‘It is the First.’ The voice echoed so loudly all around that Mallory took a step back; it was deep, masculine, but with a hint of sibilance. More disturbingly, Jenny’s lips had formed the words, but the voice was certainly not hers.

‘Jenny?’ Mallory didn’t expect a response and shifted his attention to the Fabulous Beast. ‘This is the First? The original? The father – or mother – of them all?’ But as he said the words, Mallory realised it was more than that.

‘The First has been waiting for you, Brother of Dragons.’

‘Waiting? Even I didn’t know I was going to be here.’

‘The First knew.’ The odd dislocation of voice and Jenny’s moving mouth continued to unnerve Mallory.

‘Why is it after me?’

‘You are bound into the great events that are unfolding. These days of crisis are only the beginning of a great upheaval that will decide the path of humanity for all time to come. Here, now, is the axis around which everything turns. Foretold since the dawn of
your race, everything that has happened has been in preparation for this. Every moment of suffering that has shaped and guided your kind. Every joy, every sorrow, every victory, every defeat. There has been meaning in even the smallest thing, even a leaf falling from a tree, but your people have never had the perspective that would allow them to understand.’

‘OK … destiny … fate – I can understand that,’ Mallory said cautiously. ‘Big things are happening and I’ve got a part in them. I knew that already. So, again, why me, why here, why now?’

‘The truth and the fire, Mallory. The truth and the fire.’

The tone of the words made his blood run cold. Something skittered in the back of his head; dark thoughts emerged at the tug of the Fabulous Beast’s blazing stare.

‘Five new Brothers and Sisters of Dragons have been chosen for these crucial times. The King and the Queen are true to the patterns of old. The remaining three were selected for chaos and confusion. The Devourer of All Things, known in these times as the Void, cannot easily read them or predict their actions, and the Devourer of All Things sees all, knows all.’

Mallory understood: ‘Their unpredictability means they can blindside the Void.’

‘That is why they were created. But one has already fallen, though she fights to return to the field.’

‘Who are they?’ Mallory didn’t want to ask the question, but like a moth drawn to a flame he couldn’t resist.

‘The Broken Woman. The Shadow Mage. And the Dead Man.’

The rushing cold washed through Mallory and he thought for a second that he might faint. His heart was pounding; panic fastened a strap across his chest. ‘No. I don’t want to hear any more.’ He stepped back another pace.

‘You will only reach your potential through full self-knowledge, Mallory. This is the reason you are here, now. The First is the key and you are the lock.’

‘Don’t,’ Mallory said. He was shaking. The squirming at the back of his head had grown unbearable. He clutched at his temples with his free hand; it felt as if his skull was about to crack open.

‘The sword you carry is more than a sword. It is a part of Existence, as are its two brothers. But it has been disguised to hide
it from the Devourer of All Things. Now is the time to return it to power, Mallory, and by doing so unlock your mind.’

Against the palm of Mallory’s hand, the sword throbbed in response to the beast.

‘Come. Plunge your sword into the purifying flame and cleanse yourself in the process.’

‘No,’ Mallory said. ‘I can’t do it.’

‘You fear the death you have experienced, Mallory, and the events leading up to that death, for your true self knows them well. But understand this: you have been reborn. There is always hope. It is not visible in the small things, but when you soar high, you can see it clearly, Mallory. In you, in your very being, is this lesson.’

Emotion surged up in Mallory. He remembered his parents, his childhood, the feeling that he had let them down. He recalled his first meeting with Sophie, in the pub in Salisbury, and later at the travellers’ camp, where he had come to realise that he wanted her and needed her. The feeling that she was the key to his redemption. And then her death, and the grief burrowing its way into his soul, and the knowledge that by losing her he had lost his only chance of salvation. A hot tear blazed down his frozen face. He hesitated, then thought: what did it matter? What did anything matter? He strode forward and plunged the sword deep into the blue flames.

The fire rushed up the blade as if it was kindling, and then up his arms and into him, burning through his mind, his soul, until everything was blue. He didn’t know how long he remained in that state, but the next time he came to consciousness, he was staggering around in the snow, with the sword still blazing blue in his hand. He felt as if he’d had a massive shot of adrenalin.

In his head, it felt as if a stopper had been pulled from the bottom of an enormous vat. Thoughts and feelings surged through him, three hundred movies playing at the same time, all speeded up to a blur. He knew instantly who he was and who he had been, what terrible act he had committed and how he had atoned for it. He saw himself pull the trigger, the blaze of fire across his head, and his death.

But then, miraculously, he was alive again, driving a stolen car to Salisbury shortly after the Fall, and he knew he wasn’t of this world at all. The point of his death had been an instant of transition. Somewhere there was another world, a little like the one he was in,
with people who loved and hated and who were forced to do unspeakable things. But he had the feeling that it was a greyer world, without wonder, where meaning was not so clear and where the joys of life had been diffused. A world where the Fall had never happened.

It was the reason why he was so unpredictable, why the Devourer of All Things would not be able to see him clearly. He didn’t fit properly into the landscape of this world, like an old bottle washed up on a beach. Whatever was watching skittered over the anomaly to preserve the purity of the holistic view.

‘There are worlds upon worlds upon worlds, Mallory. All connected, all joined to the source.’ For the first time there was a faint smile on Jenny’s lips. Mallory shivered; he had the feeling that something beyond her, beyond even the Fabulous Beast, was speaking to him through them both. ‘Your world no longer exists, in the way that this world exists,’ she continued. ‘Existence has shifted. A new structure has been raised around you.’

Mallory felt whole for the first time; and more, he realised what it meant to feel whole. Along with it came a deep sense of purpose. ‘I’m not going to fail,’ he said. The sword felt like a bomb on the brink of exploding, and whatever energy it contained surged into him and back, combining, infusing.

‘You are the Knight, Mallory,’ Jenny said. ‘You carry in your heart the standard of Existence.’

‘You’ve done your duty now,’ Mallory said to her, ‘and I thank you for that. You can come back to your grandfather now.’

Her sapphire eyes blazed brightly, and Mallory already knew the response before the words appeared. ‘I cannot, for I am now with the First. I am its conduit in this world. There must be many sacrifices to achieve the shining future.’

‘You’re going to stay here?’

‘I will be there at the end, for better or worse. Even if the Hounds of Avalon cry to the moon. Go now, Mallory, Brother of Dragons. The world waits for you.’