The Burning Man, page 41
part #2 of Kingdom of the Serpent Series
Coyote and Raven leaped alongside Church. ‘The boy is gone. That was always the end of our competition,’ Raven said.
‘He is too dangerous to exist in our Great Dominion,’ Coyote added. ‘He will always attract trouble.’
‘Where is he?’
Coyote and Raven both pointed up.
‘Apoyan-Tachi, Sky Father God, has taken him,’ Coyote replied.
‘If you wish to find him again, you must first find your way through the Sky Maze,’ Raven stated. ‘Take a step off the highest point of any of the highest buildings in this city and perhaps you will find yourself standing on the invisible path.’
‘Or perhaps not,’ Coyote added.
Chapter Fourteen
CLUTCHING AT STRAWS
1
New York was awake. From Battery Park to Harlem, the streets were already beginning to gridlock under the bright, silvery gleam of the dawn sky. In the diners, the cooks were preparing for the onslaught of morning customers, filling the air with steam from the coffee machines, loading trays of bagels and croissants, opening boxes of eggs. The chatter of life started low, the words not yet apparent.
Church sat on the sidewalk at Fifth Avenue and Thirty-Fourth Street, bone-weary from the night’s exertions, knowing the worst was yet to come. The Lexus pulled up next to him at speed and Laura lurched angrily out of the back seat.
‘God, the smell in there was disgusting. Ham. And shit.’
Nelson climbed out of the passenger seat. ‘You sure you want her back? I think we’ve got due cause to put her away – for being in possession of a dangerous mouth and a lethal personality.’
Exchanging a silent, knowing look with Nelson, Church hugged Laura as Tom emerged from the car carrying a long package wrapped loosely in pages from the New York Post. He handed Caledfwlch to Church.
Bad-tempered, Tombstone threw open the driver’s door. ‘More weird shit.’ The police radio was continually interrupted by bursts of loud static, within which Church could just make out a single repeated word: Croatoan. On Tombstone’s BlackBerry, random emails blinked in, quoting the same word.
‘Multiple streams of information transmitting the same message,’ Shavi said. ‘It is starting.’
‘Then we’d better get moving.’ Church unwrapped Caledfwlch and slipped it into the scabbard on his back.
‘We’re giving you one chance here,’ Nelson said.
‘That’s all I need.’
Nelson glanced at Tombstone, unsure. ‘You think we’ve been infected with stupidtron particles?’
‘Oh, yeah. You, me and the rest of the world.’
‘My girlfriend’s always going on about shit like this,’ Nelson confided. A flicker of doubt crossed his face. “The world is an illusion. We’re all tricked into believing a lie. The evidence is there if you look close enough.” She always thought it was funny – me, a detective with ten years’ service, couldn’t see the evidence. I used to laugh at her.’ He tapped his head. ‘Last week she tried to kill herself. Nearly did it, too. Now she won’t talk to me.’
‘Don’t start with all that maudlin shit again,’ Tombstone said. ‘She’ll come round, I told ya. Give her time.’ He grinned, but he couldn’t keep his true thoughts from his eyes.
Nelson looked up to the summit of the Empire State Building at Church’s back. ‘I still think you’re crazy.’
‘Main observatory is on the eighty-sixth floor, another on the one hundred and second,’ Tombstone said. ‘You can see eighty miles on a clear day. They say.’
‘You’ve not been up?’ Nelson asked.
‘Don’t like heights.’
‘That’s not high enough.’ Shielding his eyes, Church tried to see to the top of the one-hundred-and-two-storey structure. ‘Can you get me out at the very top?’
After Nelson and Tombstone spoke to security, they returned to the car as Church and the others took the elevator as high as it would go. Steel steps led to a small, circular, windowed observation area with a ladder leading up to a hatch that gave access to the dirigible mooring mast.
Pressing her face to the glass, Laura looked out over the city. ‘Church-dude, it’s not often I agree with the Filth, but that detective is right. You are seriously fucked in the head if you’re going out there.’
With his alien eye, Shavi searched for some sign of the invisible maze, but found nothing.
‘What if those gods were just ragging on you?’ Laura continued. ‘There’s nothing out there. One step, one thousand four hundred feet to the pavement. My friend Church, a fine red mist.’
‘That’s it – give him a pep talk,’ Tom said.
‘I’ve come prepared. To a point.’ Steeling himself, Church stepped onto the ladder. ‘We don’t have a choice. We need the Second Key now. If you listen carefully you can hear the city talking, repeating one word over and over again, everywhere. The Void isn’t going to take any chances. It’s going to pull the plug.’
‘I can go,’ Shavi said.
Church smiled unconvincingly. ‘You get to have the second go.’
They all fell silent. Church nodded once, then climbed the ladder and went through the metal hatch.
‘Idiot or hero, you decide.’ Laura glanced back out at the dizzying drop. ‘I think I’m going to vomit. Look away.’
The rattle of feet on steel made them think Church was returning until a low sound like a badly tuned radio set their teeth on edge. Veitch stepped into the room, the black flames of his sword casting odd shadows.
‘Here we are again,’ he said. ‘All together one last time.’ Behind him, Ruth looked uncomfortable and Miller kept his eyes down selfconsciously.
‘How did you find us, you tattooed fuck-head?’ Laura said.
‘Me and Church are like brothers these days, didn’t you know? Even more than we were in the old days.’ He began to climb the ladder to the hatch. ‘Time to finish this.’
2
Back on Summer-side, the rain still sheeted down and ran in torrents along the winding, cobbled streets. The Court of the Soaring Spirit cowered in the face of the storm. Mallory led a small army towards the Palace of Glorious Light, just a hulk lurking in the darkness.
Axe in hand and ready for battle, Decebalus strode beside him, and at their backs were the Brothers and Sisters of Dragons plucked from hundreds of years of Earth’s history. They were still coming to terms with their freedom, but Mallory could tell the Pendragon Spirit was alive in their hearts.
With Lugh and Rhiannon at their head, the Tuatha Dé Danann were grim-faced. They, too, were trying to come to terms with the new status quo, but their task was more difficult. Their race was built upon the mythology that they were special, perfect, above all other creatures. To be told their survival depended on fighting and defeating one of their own destroyed the very foundations of their existence.
Lightning flaring overhead, Mallory brought them to a halt on the approach to the palace. ‘Go back to the Hunter’s Moon and look after Virginia,’ he told Jerzy. ‘If we don’t survive, get her out of the city. Try to find Church. Just keep her safe.’
The Mocker grasped Mallory’s hand fervently. ‘I see you are a great man, as great as my good friend Jack Churchill. My life has been better for having known you.’
‘Just get the drinks in. And look after yourself.’
When Jerzy had scampered away, Mallory turned to Lugh. ‘Are you ready?’
‘It is my sister.’ Lugh’s voice trembled, though his face remained emotionless. ‘I am not ready. I will never be ready.’
‘That place is a fortress,’ Mallory said. ‘Our only option is a frontal assault. If we can take Niamh by surprise—’
‘She will be ready for us,’ Rhiannon said. ‘She already knows that the Watchtower has been breached and that the prisoners are free.’
‘You should go back with Jerzy …’ Mallory began until he saw her affronted expression.
She held up her stump. ‘One missing hand does not make me lesser. It does not amount to one fraction of the scars I have borne throughout all my time.’
‘Of course. I’m sorry.’
‘Your instinct is to protect. I understand that. It is why you make a good battle leader.’
‘I just want to finish the job here and get back to my life.’
‘And I will say again,’ Lugh began, ‘this is a turning point in the relationship between Golden Ones and Fragile Creatures. Now there is hope for my people – because of you. We will not forget that.’
Mallory looked out over the wet rooftops of the jumbled city, rolling down towards the main gate.
‘What do you seek?’ Rhiannon asked.
‘I thought Sophie would be here. That old Craft business usually makes her sensitive to what’s going on.’ He shrugged. ‘She’ll probably be along when we need her most, just like the cavalry.’
‘You should speak to our troops,’ Rhiannon said.
‘They’re not my troops.’
‘Do it. They expect it. They deserve it.’
Reluctantly, Mallory climbed onto the crumbling stone base of a rune-carved obelisk and looked out over the ranks. Concentrated in one place, he could finally see what the Pendragon Spirit meant. The Brothers and Sisters of Dragons had the rough faces of country stock and the educated features of city dwellers, the formalised styling of the Reformation and the austerity of the nineteen-fifties; their expressions revealed their fears and bravery, doubts and arrogance; but all of them to a person exuded a quality of hope and a strength of character that suggested they would do what was right, whatever the personal cost.
Mallory drew Llyrwyn. The blue flames licked hungrily towards the looming, oppressive figure of the Burning Man. Everyone fell silent, watching him.
‘You don’t know me,’ he began, ‘and that’s probably how it should be. I’m a nobody. But I’m one of you. And that’s what it means to be a Brother or Sister of Dragons. Individually, we’re a mess. We’re filled with doubts and flaws and guilt and shame and personal failures. We can barely get through our own lives. But when we come together, when we support each other and contribute our strengths to one single, good end – watch out. Because that’s when we work magic.
‘This flame, this blazing Blue Fire, gives us our strength. But it also symbolises who we are when we unite. A beacon in the dark. A light that will never be extinguished.
‘Some of you haven’t had the chance to discover who you are, or what you’re capable of. You’re going to get that chance now. It’ll be scary and tough. But you’ll always have a Brother or Sister beside you, picking you up when you fall, protecting you when your guard is down, carrying you when you’re too tired to take another step. You’ll never be alone. Let’s enter this fight not as individuals, but as Brothers and Sisters of Dragons. And let’s come out of it winners.’
For one moment there was only the sound of the wind and the lashing rain, and then a cheer rose up. Mallory shivered at what he heard in that sound. Surprised that he had found the words to express his feelings, he stepped down; Decebalus clapped him on the back, and even the Tuatha Dé Danann regarded him with respect.
‘Let’s go,’ he said.
Under cover of the storm, they approached along the narrow street that led to the square in front of the palace. Mallory still held out hope that they would be able to gain access undetected. But as they crossed the square, roaring oil fires ignited along the ramparts and on the towers, and the gloomy building was instantly transformed into a hellish fortress.
The gates were closed, and although they had not been designed to resist a major assault, Mallory could see it would take a long time to batter them down.
Yet as they surged around the base of the palace, a cry rose up. Running furiously and determinedly from the narrow street were many of the strange characters from the Hunter’s Moon, with more of the court’s residents joining them by the second. Living in fear of Niamh’s secret brutality and the enforcement of her guard, they now felt empowered.
Shadow John, tall and thin in his stovepipe hat and black suit, was transformed from his urbane geniality into a terrible sight, eyes ablaze with fury. He leaped to the gate and with one sweep of his long fingers tore open the lock.
With the doors flung open, the ragtag army surged into the suffocating maze of long, low corridors and tiny rooms. The lower ranks of Niamh’s guard rushed from secret passages in guerrilla strikes or attempted to hold the winding staircases leading to the upper floors. At first, Lugh, Rhian-non and the other Tuatha Dé Danann were hesitant at attacking their own, but when they saw the guards’ uncaring ferocity, they began to respond in kind. Soon the small passageways were filled with clouds of fluttering golden moths from both sides. As Mallory fought his way through to the upper floors, he caught sight of Lugh, his face grim and now wet with tears. Every blow he struck left him shaking.
While the battle raged below, Mallory, Decebalus and one of the new Brothers of Dragons, a sallow-faced Victorian wearing a long, black coat, moved swiftly through the upper floors.
‘What’s your name?’ Mallory asked the newcomer.
‘Charles Granger.’ He carried a short sword awkwardly. ‘I wish I had a good pistol.’
‘Okay, Charlie, you drop back and keep your eyes open for anything we miss. They’re sly bastards and they won’t be averse to popping out and stabbing us in the back.’
‘Let them try it,’ Decebalus growled. ‘I’ll have their heads from their shoulders before they’ve even taken a step.’
They came to a long, low corridor leading to the main staircase to the next floor. Heavy tapestries lined both walls and the only light came from a solitary torch at the far end.
‘I’d have thought we’d have encountered the elite guard by now,’ Mallory said.
‘You are right,’ Decebalus acknowledged. ‘Something is amiss.’
‘I do hope we get through this without too much fuss,’ Charles noted. ‘I’m looking forward to spending some time with my girl.’
‘You and me both.’ Cautiously, Mallory moved along the corridor, keeping his eyes fixed on the opening to the staircase. The silence was broken by a faint, brief sound behind them, like air escaping from a pipe.
Mallory halted. ‘What was that?’
‘I know not.’ Decebalus scanned the corridor.
‘Probably nothing. Let’s keep going,’ Charles prompted.
‘Everything’s something in this place. That’s the rule.’ Mallory edged forward.
Another burst of air, still behind them but louder than the last.
‘Again!’ Decebalus said with irritation.
‘From the ceiling.’ Mallory indicated a series of holes barely visible in the gloom.
Behind them, Charles began to cough. The coughing soon became choking, and they turned to see him clutching at his throat.
‘He can’t breathe!’ Mallory caught him as he fell to his knees. The panic in Charles’s face became horrified realisation as blood oozed from the corners of his eyes, nose, ears and mouth. Blisters erupted all over his skin, bursting to reveal thick yellow pus that turned to blood as it dripped away. Within seconds, he pitched forward, dead.
‘Witchcraft!’ Decebalus exclaimed.
‘Poison, more like.’ Mallory felt a pang of grief and turned it on its axis into cold rage. ‘Poor bastard. She’s going to pay for this.’
‘She will pay,’ Decebalus agreed. ‘Threefold. Pain upon suffering upon hell on Earth.’
Mallory tore a tapestry off the wall and held it aloft so Decebalus could get under it. Shielded from the blasts of poisonous air, they ran down the corridor.
At the stairwell, they threw the tapestry off and prepared to climb to the next floor until what sounded like the roars of jungle beasts rose up beneath them. Feet thundered up the stairs from the floor below, accompanied by an abattoir stink.
Rounding a turn in the stairs came a score or more of squat, brutish Redcaps clothed in the remnants of their human victims. Mallory braced himself for the fight, but Decebalus said firmly, ‘Go. I will hold them off.’
‘You can’t. They’re killing machines.’
‘Go!’ Decebalus roared. ‘If we both fall here, there will be no one to avenge our dead. Besides, I fight better alone.’
Mallory hesitated for only a second before he clapped the barbarian on the shoulder. ‘You’re a hero. I’m not going to forget this.’
‘Then you buy all the ale when next we meet in the Hunter’s Moon.’
Mallory ran up the stairs. Glancing back, he saw Decebalus crash his axe into the skull of the first Redcap and then kick the body back down onto the ravening horde. His insane laughter boomed up the stairwell. ‘To hell!’
Mallory sprinted up the stairs to the very top of the palace where he knew Niamh would be preparing her defence, or her escape. In the annexe that led into the queen’s suite of state rooms, he found Evgen and five members of the elite guard dressed in black and silver armour and full helmets. They brandished broad, curved swords.
‘One Brother of Dragons,’ Evgen sneered. ‘How disappointing. Pray to your God. You will be with him soon.’
‘I don’t have a god,’ Mallory replied. ‘This is what I believe in.’
He swung Llyrwyn and as he attacked, the Blue Fire became an inferno, fed by his Pendragon Spirit and feeding it in turn. The first two guards exploded into moths before they had even taken a step. The third was more of a challenge, but Mallory would not be contained. The Blue Fire filled him until there was no Mallory, just a righteous weapon that struck with all the strength and skill he had learned as a Knight Templar.
Another guard fell, then another, until Evgen faced him, alone. The captain threw back the mask of his helmet, revealing an expression of incomprehension.
‘You can leave,’ Mallory said.
‘My duty is to my queen. I have neither will nor desire beyond that.’
