The Ring of Five (14 page)

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they were kept under control by the Ring of Five. Sometimes they would break out and do harm in the Upper World. Those who saw them thought of them as devils--but they weren't; they were just the cruel side of living beings. The head of the Ring, the Fifth, was one who embodied the qualities of both sides. To qualify as the Fifth, one must have the faith of both sides--and thus must be half man, half Cherb.

"I will not trouble you now with the history. Suffice it to say that the Ring was corrupted and dissolved and the Fifth was lost--no one knows where. Evil began to come to the fore. Still, perhaps we would have held the line if Longford had not gone bad and sought to revive the Ring. He secretly organized the Cherbs, and planned to overthrow the Lower World and invade the Upper. There were massive casualties on both sides, but the Upper World was not invaded. We who resisted him barely escaped with our lives, and retreated to this place, Wilsons Island, which has long guarded the crossing place between the Worlds. We are all that is left."

Something stirred in the rafters. Danny looked sharply up. He found himself looking into the beady eyes of a raven, its head cocked to one side.

"The ravens tell no tales," Devoy said. "For many years we on Wilsons watched for danger, keeping in contact with the Upper World. It was a place of culture and learning."

"What happened?"

"We stopped watching. Wilsons declined into what

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you see now, a run-down old building on an island, full of child spies and people like the Messengers who have nowhere else to go.

"The Ring corrupted the Messengers it held and set them to work, not pleasant work.... The Seraphim ... But I wander."

"What has this got to do with me?" Danny said. His voice was shaky with nerves, but there was a growing excitement as well.

"Longford has done well in reviving the Ring. Including himself, they are four. But they cannot regain their strength until they have replaced the final member. Until they are five again."

Devoy was looking directly at Danny. The fire crackled. Devoy's eyes bored into him. Then the realization dawned. It was so ridiculous that Danny felt like laughing in the man's face. And this time he did not veil his thoughts.

"Yes, Danny," Devoy said, his face unchanging but his voice eager, "you are the one. You are the person they think they are looking for. You will join the Ring but serve the good, and betray their innermost councils. The fate of this world and yours may rest on it!"

Danny was aware that his mouth was hanging open. He was afraid that he would start babbling hysterically.

"Why ... what ...," he mumbled, "why me?"

"Because you are the person they are looking for. A boy who lives in the Upper World. According to the lore, the Ring must have a person of half-human, half-Cherb blood. Only then will its power be complete."

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"But you don't know anything about me!" Danny protested. "And my parents are both human."

"We know much about you." Devoy went over to a carved desk beside the bookcase. He carried over a large wooden box and tipped the contents onto the floor. Danny gasped in astonishment. He could see copies of his school reports, dental records, even a copy of what looked like the cardboard medical file from his doctor. There were photographs of Danny in the schoolyard, in the car with his mother. There were even some of his schoolbooks.

"Brunholm has been watching you for several years, apparently," Devoy said. Something in the man's manner told Danny that Brunholm hadn't told him what he was doing.

"He was able to furnish me with all this information on you. He should be here any moment."

As Devoy spoke, there was a flicker of movement in the corner, and when Danny looked, Brunholm was standing on the carpet.

"Good that you joined us," he said, smiling and rubbing his hands together. "Welcome aboard. Indeed, welcome aboard."

"I've just been telling our young recruit the reasons why we need him."

"Need him." Brunholm was grinning. "Yes, of course. Need him."

Danny looked from face to face. Devoy expressionless. Brunholm's eyes darting about the room. He thought he could feel the power of the Ring reaching out to him,

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drawing him in. The enormity of the mission that Devoy had outlined was just starting to come to him. He, Danny Caulfield, was to go out and become part of a ruthless spy ring, concealing his identity and mission from its members. He remembered how Les had gone through the photographs of the spies in Ravensdale, how many of them had lost their lives. He thought of the Unknown Spy and his wife, who were unable to remember their own names.

"What makes you think," Danny said slowly, something in his voice making the two men turn around, "what makes you think that I can do this, that I won't crack, or be found out the first time I open my mouth?"

"That depends on many things," Devoy said, watching Danny carefully. "How we instruct you, for a start, and how much you learn. You must have some spycraft. It will depend on the team we send with you. But most of all, it will depend on your courage and your mind, whether you can outwit Longford and the others."

"And whether you can betray what is dearest to you when the cause is worthy," Brunholm broke in. His eyes glittered in the gloom. Danny only half understood what Brunholm was saying. He knew that he should refuse. And if he did, would they send him home?

"I can't ...," Danny went on.

"It is too late to refuse!" Brunholm said sharply.

"You have made your decision and have spoken in front of the shadows. There is no turning back!" Brunholm went on. The stumbling, grinning character that had come into the room had gone. This was a much harder creature.

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"Now, now, Marcus," Devoy said gently, "you're frightening Danny. What Mr. Brunholm is trying to say is that you are the last and best hope of this world and of your world. We know that an attack is imminent, but we do not know where or how. Think of your friends. Think of your family."

"But how can I do this all on my own?" Danny cried, feeling responsibility settle on him like a great weight.

"You won't be on your own," Devoy said. "Would you like to meet your team?"

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A PATH OF INFINITE RETURN

Danny followed Devoy and Brunholm out of the library and down a corridor to a pair of wooden doors. In the darkness above, something fluttered. Danny thought he saw a raven hopping from rafter to rafter.

"The anteroom to the library of the third landing," Devoy murmured and opened the doors. It was an elegant room with long windows through which the last rays of the setting sun cast shadows across the polished floors. Danny could see three shadowy figures sitting around a fire, and his heart dropped. He was going to be sent out with strangers--or even worse, with some of the inhabitants of the Hall of Shadows. As he approached, they stood up.

"Les!" Danny breathed in relief. "Dixie, Vandra!" Les

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and Dixie grinned at him. Vandra watched Brunholm, a wary look in her eyes.

"A thief, an airhead and a ... a ...," Brunholm said.

"Physick," Danny said, remembering what it had said on her parents' gravestone.

Vandra's eyes widened, but she smiled at him gratefully. If Dixie was offended at being called an airhead, she didn't show it.

"A real live mission," she said, "what fun!"

"Children!" Brunholm exclaimed.

"Perhaps," Devoy said quietly to his cohort as the four friends chatted excitedly, "but there is a real friendship between them."

"Friendship?" Brunholm looked as if he was about to spit. "Where's the friendship that can't be betrayed?"

"Indeed," Devoy said sadly, "in our line of work ..."

"We weren't allowed to say nothing to you until after the Hall of Shadows," Les said. They were walking across the lawns toward the Roosts.

"I can't wait," Dixie said excitedly, and as if to underline her point, she disappeared, only to reappear a second later beside a lime tree on the lawn, then standing on one of the academy's windowsills.

"Stop that, Dixie," Vandra said crossly, "you know it gets on my nerves."

"Sorry." Dixie reappeared beside them.

"Why've you got that look on your face, Danny?" Les asked.

"Well ..." Danny rubbed his chin. "It's just that

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you're all ... well, kind of normal, yet you can do these crazy things, or you've got wings or, or ..."

"Fangs," Les put in helpfully. Vandra glared at him.

"It's just a different world, is all," Dixie said. "It doesn't mean we're all that different."

"Although I'll make an exception in your case," Les muttered under his breath, grinning.

"I never knew this stuff about the different worlds--Upper and Lower."

"The ancient Greeks in your world knew about it," Vandra said, seriously. "You know, when they wrote about crossing over the river Styx and the underworld, people thought they meant dying ..."

"Yes, yes, Vandra, we get the idea," Les said, "you pay attention in Myths and Stories of the Upper World."

"It's really very interesting," Vandra said. "If
you
paid attention you'd--"

"Would you like to see Westwald?" Dixie broke in, an innocent expression on her face.

"What's that?" Danny said.

"The city of the Ring, is all," Les said, "and it's not a good idea."

"I only said look at it," Dixie said, "not go there. It's this way." Dixie pointed to the very path that Danny had taken the previous day. Les and Vandra looked at each other and shrugged.

"No harm in him getting a look," Les said.

"But every time I took that path I ended up back where I came from," Danny said. "It was driving me mad."

"It's a Path of Infinite Return," Dixie explained

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patiently, as if she was talking to someone very slow. "You have to confuse it."

"How do you do that?" Danny asked.

"Walk backward, of course," Dixie said. "Come on!" Looking comically serious, she started to walk backward along the path. Les and Vandra followed. Feeling extremely silly, Danny followed them.

As the path swooped under the trees, Les spoke up.

"You know, me and the others have been talking ... we need to start taking a look at whoever's having a go at you. I mean, you could have got killed a couple of times."

"McGuinness, the detective, he's supposed to be investigating," Danny said.

"McGuinness is a good sort--for a cop, that is," Les said, with the air of a man who had experienced a few brushes with the law in his time, "but he's got a lot on his plate. I mean, between here and Westwald there's a fair bit of crime--particularly in Westwald."

"What do we do?"

"I don't know." Les frowned. "But we can't have them trying to bump off a mate without us doing something about it, can we?"

They walked backward for another five minutes or so: then Dixie spoke.

"That should do it."

With relief Danny turned around the right way. They were in a part of the wood that he hadn't seen before. The path was cut through sheer rock, with trees forming a roof overhead so that they were walking through a green

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tunnel. There were the remains of old walls and what looked like a small, deserted castle above them.

The tunnel opened out into scrubland. In places the trees had been burned but had started to grow back, and there were deep holes and rusting barbed wire running across the land. In the distance Danny could see several houses, but they were fire-blackened and roofless, and the foliage had started to cover them. His friends didn't make any comment on it, but Danny thought it looked as if an army had passed this way.

They turned a corner in the path and suddenly Danny could smell the sea. More buildings came into view, this time with walls blown out, and debris lay scattered around them.

"The war," Les said curtly. The path turned into a road, the surface pitted and scarred. The burned-out remains of cars and trucks had been dragged to the sides of the roadway and lined its edges like some strange traffic jam. Old telegraph poles tilted drunkenly. Danny looked about him. Wilsons had somehow seemed unreal, but this felt very real.

"Cherbs kept attacking in the early days," Les said. "When we get to the top of the hill, keep your head down."

The smell of the sea was stronger now. The road breasted a small rise. Danny followed the others as they got down on their hands and knees to crawl to the top. When they got close they lay on their bellies and peered over.

Danny found himself looking down on a long beach

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littered with burned-out boats and jeeps and trucks. There were rolls of barbed wire everywhere, and a sign said, DANGER: MINEFIELD.

Waves crashed on the strand and on the abandoned boats. Waves tumbling from a dark, angry-looking inlet of the sea. All along the beach watchtowers stood on long legs, looking out toward the other side of the inlet. Beyond the wharfs and piers on the far shore was a city over which there hung a grayish haze, making it hard to distinguish streets and buildings. Much of the haze seemed to come from high redbrick factory chimneys in the distance. But despite being hidden by smoke--or perhaps because of it--the town exuded mystery, beckoning to Danny. The smoke was stirred by a gust of wind, and he had a quick glimpse of narrow winding streets.

"Westwald," Les murmured.

Looking up the inlet, Danny could see a long iron railway bridge, its delicate arches spanning the angry water below. The iron was damaged and scorched, sagging in places, missing whole girders in others. But still it stood grimly above the current.

"Hard to think that all you had to do once was jump on a train to get across. The bridge runs to Tarnstone on our side." Vandra sighed.

"A bridge?" Danny asked.

"We were on the last train across from the lower side," Vandra said. "The Cherbs bombed us as we crossed." Vandra's dark eyes turned watery. Dixie put her hand on Vandra's pale hand sympathetically.

"The two cities face each other across the sea,