The Burning Man, page 35
part #2 of Kingdom of the Serpent Series
The mare came to a halt at the gates. Keeping still, Mallory could hear movement beyond. Lantern light splashed across the puddles that surrounded him.
‘Move away,’ a voice barked. ‘No one is allowed to approach the Hall of Bright Beyond.’ Mallory didn’t move. The voice came again. ‘Move away or I will loose an arrow into you.’
Mallory tensed, but no attack was launched. The lock clanked and the gate creaked open. Rumbling thunder added to the deafening sound of the downpour.
The guard lifted the lantern to peer into Mallory’s hood. Reacting quickly, Mallory brought the pommel of his sword up sharply against the guard’s temple. By the time the guard hit the ground, Mallory was off the horse and had reclaimed the lantern. Dragging the guard out of sight of the gate, Mallory bound him tightly with the rope, then slipped inside the prison, pulling the gate shut behind him.
There was no sign of the other guards. A maze of foul-smelling corridors led off the keep. He was grateful for the lantern for there were no torches, and occasionally, when its light fell on the doors that lined his route, he heard pitiful cries from within.
He searched through the labyrinth for more than an hour until he caught sight of a dim red glow eking into the corridor through an open door. Faint voices rumbled through the stillness, and as he neared he heard muffled cries that were unmistakably Jerzy.
Mallory crept to the edge of the door. Beyond was a large, low-ceilinged room lit by the glow from a brazier. Straw covered the floor to soak up the blood, excrement and urine. In a rack on one wall were rows of stained, rusted tools of indeterminate use. Arms outstretched, Jerzy hung like a monkey, naked, chained by his wrists to two wooden posts. A dirty rag had been forced into his grinning mouth, and his eyes were fixed wide with horror. Numerous gouges and burns scarred his chalky body.
Two of the queen’s guards stood watch while a thin man in dirty robes and a pointed hood went about his work.
‘He will not talk,’ one of the guards said.
‘He must,’ the other replied. ‘The queen shall know the secret plan that drives him or we shall be here alongside him.’
‘What if there is no secret plan?’
‘There is. He rides the Brothers and Sisters of Dragons like mares to achieve his ends. The queen has evidence, though I know not from where.’
‘Shall I remove the rag to ask him again?’
‘No, I cannot bear to hear his sounds. Two more turns and then we shall try again.’
The one in the hood had spent some time contemplating the rack of tools and finally made his choice, what looked like a wire brush fitted with three parallel razor blades. Humming to himself, he examined the tool distractedly as he approached Jerzy. The look in Jerzy’s eyes made Mallory queasy, and then the glimmer of unbelievable gratitude in those same eyes when Mallory stepped into the doorway affected him just as powerfully.
‘Let him go.’ The blue flames licking around Llyrwyn made a stark contrast in the red room.
Swords drawn, the guards advanced cautiously. ‘Walk away, Brother of Dragons. The queen is not of a mind to play games with you any longer.’
‘Shame. I was hoping to challenge her at Twister.’ He advanced. ‘Once more, in case you didn’t hear me the first time: let him go.’
The guards rushed him together.
The moves he had learned as a Knight Templar in the compound in Salisbury came instinctively. As the guards attacked from two sides, he stood holding the sword horizontally above his head, eyes closed.
When he opened his eyes, the sword moved so quickly that no one in the room saw it; three planes and then back in the scabbard. Both guards fell dead. The torturer in the hood retreated to the gloom at the rear of the room.
Mallory hacked through the chains supporting Jerzy, then caught him as he fell. The minute the rag was plucked from his mouth, the Mocker let forth a flow of desperate thanks.
‘I think talking can wait, don’t you?’ Mallory said.
Jerzy nodded uncomfortably.
2
At the Hunter’s Moon, Mallory found Decebalus pacing his quarters like a cornered beast.
‘Where’s Sophie and Caitlin?’ Mallory asked.
‘Not here. I have not seen them. But, look here.’ Decebalus led Mallory to Rhiannon who rested more peacefully than she had since they had brought her there. Virginia hugged her knees in a chair beside the bed. The barbarian brushed matted hair from Rhiannon’s forehead and her eyes flickered open. ‘He is here,’ Decebalus said softly, ‘as I said he would be.’
Rhiannon gave Mallory a weak but warm smile. ‘Mallory.’ Her voice was low and soft. ‘Again we meet. I knew we would. So good.’
‘I’m sorry about your hand,’ he said.
‘You did what you had to do, as a Brother of Dragons always does. Do you remember when we first met, when Llyrwyn chose you?’
‘For a long time I’d forgotten. The Void wouldn’t let me have that memory. But now it’s back. Those hours in your court were the last time I felt at peace.’
‘I fear none of us will know peace again for a very long time.’
‘It was Niamh, wasn’t it?’
She nodded, her expression haunted. ‘She has turned on her own kind. I would never have thought to see it. She came to my court with a large force and took us by surprise. All who remained were slaughtered, save me. And I … I was tortured, and was left as a warning to any of my kind who found me. Have you noticed there have been no visitors here from any other court? Because they fear her. All things in the Far Lands fear her. She has even taken her own brother captive. Not in your darkest thoughts would you imagine what she is capable of, Mallory. Not in your darkest thoughts.’
‘Why didn’t she kill me and the others the minute we got here?’
‘There are currents moving deeply and secretly throughout all Existence … alignments and patterns that have been shifting since the first days. She will not act rashly. She sits in her web, gathering information, sifting motivation and rumour, manipulating and scheming. And when she is sure, and the power that she serves is sure, then she will strike.’
‘Have you heard of the Gateway to Winter?’
‘It moves through this city as the ages change, hidden from all eyes. Unless you have the map that plots its course.’
‘I have the map.’
Rhiannon peered at him curiously. ‘It is rumoured only Math has that.’
Mallory tapped his head. ‘He left it here for me. A map that’s also a calendar. Two aspects designed to hide its true meaning, I suppose. Do you feel strong enough to draw me a map of the city?’
Decebalus brought her paper, quill and ink, and Mallory went back to the fire in the other room where Jerzy huddled, weak and shaking, wrapped in a blanket.
‘Are you all right?’
‘They had only just started. And I come from hardy stock. As a boy I was beaten night and day to work the fields.’
Mallory pulled up a chair. ‘The guards said the queen has evidence that you’re acting on some secret plan. That you’ve been manipulating us.’
Jerzy stared into the fire uncomfortably.
‘Are you working against us, Jerzy?’
‘No!’ The passion in his voice shocked Mallory. ‘My good friend Church saved me and set me on the path to redemption. I owe him everything. And by association I owe all the Brothers and Sisters of Dragons everything.’
‘Then what’s going on?’
‘I serve higher powers. They want the same as you, good friend. They do!’
‘Church told us you were captured by the Puck, and spent a lot of time in his company. Afterwards you were changed somehow.’
Jerzy remained silent.
‘Is the Puck the higher power?’
‘The Puck serves a greater plan, as do all the oldest things in the lands. And the things that came before them.’
Mallory ignored the nonsensical comment and asked, ‘If these powers want the same as us, why didn’t you tell us? Why don’t they reveal themselves and work with us?’
‘Because they see a greater pattern. And you, with your limited perspective, may not accept the value of the choices they make. For in the greater plan, there are hardships that seen in isolation are shattering.’
‘So we can’t be trusted, is that it?’
Jerzy would say no more.
Bitterly, Mallory returned to Rhiannon. But the moment he glanced at the map she had drawn, his mind was assailed with colours and symbols and all the information Math had implanted there. It was too much, and he crashed across the bed, unconscious.
3
Some time later, in the thin hour before dawn, Mallory, Decebalus, Jerzy and a rapidly recovering Rhiannon made their way across the city in a storm that, if anything, had grown more intense. They had left Virginia tucked up asleep in her bed in the Hunter’s Moon. Wind hurled protesting shop signs furiously and thrashed untethered shutters. Rain sluiced from the rooftops in sheets.
Mallory had the sense that the tiny, winding streets shifted their position in reality continually, confounding expectations, bringing confusion and doubt, and eventually despair. But Rhiannon’s map continued to guide them. Every now and then they would shelter in a porch or the lee of a building, and study it beneath a cloak by guttering lantern light.
And that was how they found themselves in a small cobbled square with four roads leading off it. In the centre was a circular shallow pool enclosed by a low stone wall. Bloated by the rain, its black waters now lapped over the edge. And in the centre of that circle was a stone arch, simple in design, so rough-hewn it did not attract the attention and so slipped easily into the bleak background. The only detail was on the keystone, where a leafless tree had been etched.
‘The Gateway to Winter,’ Rhiannon said.
‘Oh, what do we do now?’ Jerzy scampered round and round the pool, raising large splashes.
‘If it’s a gate, the logical approach would be to find some way to open it.’ Mallory stepped into the pool and stood before the arch. Up close, the impression that there was a clear view through the arch was an illusion. It was as if a fine gauze covered the gap, but he could pass his hand through it without meeting any resistance. Yet as he felt around the area where a handle would have been on a normal gate, his fingers closed around something hard. He pulled, and the gate opened.
The view through the arch showed the same buildings, but now the cobbles were covered with a thick blanket of snow, and flakes fell heavily from a night sky. Backing off, Jerzy gave a high-pitched whine, and even Decebalus shied away.
‘Where is that?’ Mallory asked. ‘The past? The future?’
‘Winter-side,’ Rhiannon said in awe, as if that was enough.
Steeling himself, Mallory stepped through the gate; Rhiannon followed close behind, and after a moment’s hesitation Decebalus and Jerzy came, too. Mallory shivered in the icy breeze, his sopping clothes leaching the heat from him.
‘We need to move or we’re going to freeze,’ he said.
Sword drawn, Decebalus looked around at the snow-capped buildings. Everywhere was eerily still, as if the city was empty. ‘But where do we go?’ he said.
It was Rhiannon who pointed the way, so obvious the others had missed it. Along an alley between two faceless granite buildings the snow had been hard-packed by numerous feet.
The buildings rose so high on either side it felt as if they were moving beneath the earth. The snow continued to fall. The silence was unnerving. The alley twisted this way and that, picking an irrational path amongst the cramped buildings, each as blank as the last.
After a while, Jerzy began to tug annoyingly at Mallory’s sleeve. ‘Let us go back, good friend,’ he pleaded. ‘I do not like it here. We should come in the daytime. Perhaps even in the summer!’
Mallory realised that Jerzy was sensing something untoward, and after a few more paces he could sense it himself; they all could. It felt like someone standing just behind them, about to touch the napes of their necks. None of them could resist looking back from time to time as they hurried on.
The alley passed an area where a building had been demolished, the site sealed off with seven-foot-high wooden boards. After the claustrophobia of the route, the sudden open space was just as unnerving. A dim red glow emanated from somewhere on the other side of the fence – a fire, perhaps.
A low growl emerged from the sealed-off area. Then another, and another.
Jerzy whimpered louder.
Rhiannon caught Mallory’s arm. ‘Steady. I believe sentries have been posted to guard the way.’
Ahead, the alley formed a T-junction, and at the corner the boards had collapsed. As they approached, the growling grew louder. Mallory drew Llyrwyn just in time.
From out of the gap bounded a large dog, smeared a bloody red for it had no skin, and all its muscles and organs were in clear view. Blood spattered on the snow as it skidded around to face Mallory. On the other side of the fence, more dogs could be heard bounding towards the gap.
When the dog snarled, its red-stained teeth showed clear up to the hinge of its jaw. It leaped at Mallory with a force and fury that shocked him. It took all his skill with the sword to fend off its snapping jaws, but its momentum knocked him onto his back. Snarling, it went straight for his throat, spittle flying, uncontained eyes rolling insanely. There was no time or room to bring his sword up.
Just as its teeth brushed his skin, Decebalus brought his sword down, severing the dog’s head from its neck and showering Mallory with a gush of steaming blood. The head rolled into a snowdrift where it continued to snap and snarl and roll its eyes.
‘Foul hell-beast!’ Decebalus spat.
Mallory just had time to scramble to his feet before three more ferocious dogs attacked. With Decebalus at his side, they hacked and slashed until there were only twitching, bloody chunks in the snow.
‘That’s the most disgusting thing I’ve seen,’ Mallory said as he cleaned his blade.
‘There may be worse things ahead,’ Rhiannon warned.
As dawn began to turn the sky a fiery red, they followed the branching alley with the most frozen footprints and eventually came to another cobbled square. A large rock stood in the centre, in the middle of another low-walled pool, looking like the tip of a mountain bursting from the earth. In the side of it was a wooden door.
Mallory noticed Rhiannon’s curious expression. ‘You know where it leads?’ he said.
‘There is another one in Summer-side, but Niamh closed it off so none could pass through.’ Awareness lit her face. ‘It leads to the Watchtower between the worlds.’
4
Across rolling green downs and rushing white-foamed rivers, up steep boulder-strewn hills and over sweeping barren moors, Hunter carried Laura, fighting exhaustion, focusing on the horizon, driving one foot relentlessly in front of the other. Slow, laborious, wearing progress. Many times he felt he would fall to his knees and never get up again, but still he kept going. Even though there was not the slightest sign of life; nor was there any hint of a real, abiding death; and so he had hope.
‘Nearly there,’ he whispered. It had become his mantra, repeated too many times to count, although for all he knew they were a thousand miles away from their destination.
Finally the landscape gave way to a barren region where it appeared there had been a great fire. Charcoal trees sprouted from scorched earth peppered with blackened rocks. The air smelled like the industrial zone of a great city.
Tying his handkerchief across his mouth, he descended a slope that ended on the banks of a river of blood. To weary to be shocked, he followed it upstream to a sprawling white marble building: the Court of the Final Word.
Filled with relief, he found the energy to run the last few yards to the imposing doors, where he hammered furiously.
The doors were flung open by a startled, golden-skinned youth in red robes and a red skullcap. A red surgical mask hung from his neck. Behind him, more of the red-robed Tuatha Dé Danann moved with frantic purpose, carrying trays of strange implements, disappearing through doors into the bowels of the court.
‘Begone, Fragile Creature,’ the youth said angrily, before catching himself. He peered into Hunter’s face. Whatever he saw there prompted him to turn and hurry into the depths of the building.
Hunter staggered in and yelled, ‘I need help here! And if I don’t get it I’m going to start breaking things.’
The youth returned at a clip accompanied by an elderly man with an aquiline nose and an aristocratic face. He gave a curt bow. ‘Brother of Dragons, forgive any disrespect. I am Dian Cecht. This is my court. In our defence, these are difficult times. How may I be of service?’
Hunter held Laura out. ‘She’s hurt … could be dying. I was told you might be able to help.’
Dian Cecht eyed Laura. ‘She has the mark of one of my brothers upon her.’
‘You’ve got to help,’ Hunter urged. ‘Whatever it takes.’
Dian Cecht smiled but gave nothing away. He conducted a cursory examination of Laura. ‘I cannot say for certain that there is anything I can do. And if there is, there may well be a severe price to pay.’
‘Whatever. Just help her.’
This appeared to please Dian Cecht. He nodded to the youth, who took Laura and carried her carefully into the court.
‘You are weary, Brother of Dragons. You need rest, food.’
‘I’m fine.’
‘It will not help the Sister of Dragons if you fall sick yourself. I will arrange for you to be taken to the rest quarters where you will be given sustenance. To such an esteemed guest, all is offered freely and without obligation.’
‘Tell me the minute you know something.’
