The Hounds of Avalon (Gollancz S.F.) (43 page)

‘Is what I am suggesting possible?’

‘Yes, it is possible.’

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

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

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

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

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

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

‘Then we had better proceed with caution.’

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

‘Will you fight beside us?’

‘Is that your wish?’

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

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

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

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

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

‘I think I have,’ Sophie replied.

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

‘What’s wrong?’ Thackeray asked.

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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