The Hounds of Avalon (Gollancz S.F.) (6 page)

‘It’s bigger than I thought it would be,’ Mallory said.

‘You can see why it’s been identified with Camelot for more than six hundred years,’ Sophie replied. ‘It inspired the medieval romances of Lancelot and Guinevere, Galahad and the Holy Grail. Can’t you feel it? There’s something in the air itself, as if it’s radiating out of the heart of the hill.’

‘So it’s the right place?’

‘It has to be.’ Sophie took a deep, soothing breath, finally happy to be at the destination that had plagued her ever since they had left Salisbury at Christmas. The first hint had come in a dream, an imposing hill in a green landscape, a crow telling her to take heed. It had all the hallmarks of a communication from the Invisible World and the image had stayed with her potently for days. When she had used her Craft to commune with the Higher Powers for answers, the response had been cryptic and teasing, as always. But as the weeks and months passed, the clues had mounted, finally leading them here.

‘It’s not just the feeling,’ she continued. ‘The mythic symbolism is perfect. We know that the Arthurian legends are a code. They all identify places of power where the walls that divide dimensions are thin, where there’s a doorway to the Otherworld … T’ir n’a n’Og.’

‘The Land of Always Summer. You see, I
was
listening when you were telling me about your crazy religious beliefs.’

‘King Arthur is a code for—’

‘The energy that runs through all things. The Blue Fire,’ Mallory chanted with mock-weariness. ‘The Pendragon Spirit.’

Mallory tried to pretend it was all a joke, but he’d seen the evidence of the power, felt its euphoric effect. It was the thing that linked the Brothers and Sisters of Dragons across millennia and though he would never have mentioned it to Sophie, he was humbled to be a part of it.

‘So what exactly are we looking for?’ he asked.

‘Something important. Something that ties in to the whole reason why we were chosen.’ Her eyes were filled with passion and just the briefest hint of apprehension.

They spent the next half-hour fighting their way through the wildly overgrown lower reaches of the hill. It didn’t look as though anyone had been there since the Fall. The largest butterflies Mallory had ever seen in his life flitted in and out of the trees, and there was an abundance of wildlife – rabbits that were almost tame, even a fox slinking like a russet ghost through the vegetation’s shadows.

‘Can you see anything yet?’ Sophie asked him as he hacked through the undergrowth.

‘It’s hard to concentrate when I’m having to chop and thrust every six feet.’ Mallory paused to rest on his sword. ‘Just give me a minute to catch my breath.’

Once he had rested, he tried again, just as she had been teaching him during the last six months. The perception wasn’t easy to reach, or to sustain – Sophie had described it as ‘like looking at a Magic Eye picture’ – but when he did finally achieve it, he was shocked by what he saw.

Lines of shimmering blue appeared on the ground as if power cables were glowing just beneath the surface. They ran backwards and forwards in a grid pattern across the whole of the hill, and on the flat summit he could just make out a spike rising up to the clouds like a gigantic radio antenna.

‘Bloody hell,’ he said, awed.

‘It’s like a giant battery.’ Sophie took his hand and tugged him to the left. ‘This way.’

As they carved their way through brambles and long grass with renewed vigour, Mallory said, ‘OK, but why this place, of all the Arthurian locations?’

‘Because this is one of the most special. Legend says it’s hollow, like the one at Glastonbury Tor, which is unquestionably special. At the summer solstice, it’s supposed to turn into glass so that you can see all the secret caves inside.’

‘Aha. And it would be … what? A coincidence that we just happen to be here at the solstice?’

She smiled enigmatically.

‘And what’s supposed to be in these secret caves?’

‘According to legend, Arthur himself and all his knights, who are sleeping until England calls on their services again.’

‘More symbolism?’

She shrugged. ‘There’s more: the legend goes on to say that every seven years, on midsummer’s eve, a giant gate opens in the side of the hill allowing entry to that place.’

Mallory surveyed the imposing hill thoughtfully. ‘Looks like we’re in for a night of surprises.’

For a while, the flow of blue energy faded in and out of view, but eventually Mallory found himself picking out stronger arterial routes leading towards a focal point. As he followed the more potent lines of force, he was overcome by a strange sensation of distortion. Leaves and branches moved too quickly; shadows lengthened at an alarming rate. It felt as if time was accelerating, and when he checked the arc of blue sky visible through the foliage above them, he was unnerved to see the colour shifting to magenta as clouds hurtled overhead. The sun shifted from yellow to red and rushed towards the horizon.

He gripped Sophie’s arms. ‘Call me jumpy, but I reckon we need to reach our destination by nightfall or something bad’s going to happen.’

‘Any particular reason?’

‘A gut feeling.’ Increasingly, he found that his instincts were rarely wrong, as though he was becoming more sensitive to subtle warning signs.

Sophie nodded and picked up her speed.

As the darkness washed in from the east, gloom rose up around the trunks of the trees and the sounds of the hillside became eerily magnified. Every windborne rustle became a predator at their backs, every footstep the thunderous beat of a buried heart.

Fifty yards ahead, the energy flows congregated just below the lip of the hill’s flat summit. As night fell, they began to run. In that same instant, a whispering rose up from the trees, echoing across the deserted hillside. They couldn’t make out the words, but there was something in the sound that made them feel sluggish and gloomy. They slowed to a walk, then stopped and looked around for the source.

‘What is that?’ Mallory asked.

‘I can feel it in my head,’ Sophie said. She swayed, mesmerised and suddenly overcome by melancholy.

Mallory grabbed her and forced her to look at him. ‘Don’t listen.’ He propelled her onwards as fast as she would go, scrambling over humps, tumbling through nettles, stinging and winding themselves. The unsettling whispering continued, unmistakably growing closer.

‘It’s hunting us,’ Sophie gasped. ‘What is it?’

‘Just concentrate on running.’ Mallory’s eyes darted around the hillside, but it was impossible to see clearly in the gloom.

They emerged from the trees and bushes on to a grassy slope where they had a clear view of a surging and spitting whirlpool of Blue Fire ahead.

‘That must be the entrance,’ Sophie said, gasping for breath.

The whispering was now so loud it felt as if it was filling Mallory’s head and pressing in on him from all sides. With it came a black despair urging him to give up. As he struggled to fight it off, a shape loomed out of the shadows of the trees. Mallory grabbed Sophie and pushed her behind him as he drew his sword.

‘What is it?’ Sophie said.

Mallory couldn’t answer. It looked like a walking corpse, a tall, thin man with otherworldly almond-shaped eyes whose body had been broken on a rack. The skeleton showed through at the ribs and the forearms and on the left side of its jaw. At first, Mallory thought it was brandishing a sword in each hand, but as it marched towards them, Mallory realised that the swords had actually been embedded in the thing’s wrists – the weapons were now a part of it. A luminous purple mist drifted from its mouth and ears and eked out of the corners of its eyes; it was the source of the whispering that was making them feel so despairing.

‘Now would be the time for a good spell,’ Mallory said.

‘You know it doesn’t work like that,’ Sophie replied. ‘I need time, ritual space …’

The warrior bore down on them, weaving its rusty, bloodstained swords in an intricate attack pattern. Mallory attacked it vigorously. It responded instantly, parrying and then thrusting. Mallory jumped back athletically and avoided the dual attack as the creature’s weapons cut rapidly back and forth like a bacon-slicer.

They battled for several minutes but the warrior didn’t appear to tire, and Mallory began to wonder if it was actually an animated dead thing. And its strength was astonishing. The twin blades crashed down on him like pile-drivers, jolting him to the bone. Only his Knight Templar training and whatever innate power lurked in his sword kept him alive.

As he manoeuvred to avoid another attack, his foot caught in a rabbit hole and he went down hard. The warrior poised to swing a sword towards Mallory’s head. In that instant, Mallory saw an opening. He managed to swing his sword in a short arc, hacking through the warrior’s left ankle.

The thing continued to attack as it fell, but it had been thrown off-balance. Even so, the flat of its sword still clipped Mallory’s temple, stunning him.

When he came around, Sophie was attempting to drag him up the slope. From further down the hill he could hear the sound of riders crashing through the undergrowth towards them.

Mallory lurched to his feet, his chest burning from the exertion of the fight. He tried to push Sophie towards the Blue Fire but her head was bowed, and when she looked up her eyes were crackling with sapphire energy.

‘It’s all right,’ she said. ‘This place is like a battery … I can draw on it …’

Mallory was unnerved by what he saw in her face – a primal fury about to be unleashed. Coruscating energy erupted out of her in a flash. When his vision cleared, there was a massive scorch mark across the slope and the warrior was nowhere to be seen. But from the trees the sounds of the riders drew closer, magnified as if their steeds were as big as rhinos.

‘Come on,’ Sophie said. ‘I’ve only bought us a few seconds.’

As Mallory and Sophie neared the whirl of Blue Fire, they heard the riders break from the tree line. Mallory turned to see three more
of the hideous undead warriors, this time riding huge beasts that resembled horses but had scaly hides and cloven hooves.

Just as Mallory was preparing to make a last stand, the ground trembled and there was a sound like an avalanche as turf and soil tore back in a shower of earth and pebbles. In the gulf that opened up before them was revealed a majestic stone arch big enough to encompass four men standing on each other’s shoulders. Around it, the Blue Fire licked and sparked, but the centre of the arch was as black as space. Mallory had no time to contemplate it, for Sophie put one hand between his shoulder blades and shoved him into the gateway.

Pain made Mallory black out again as his ribs smashed against something hard. When he came around, he knew instantly that he was somewhere far removed from the slopes of Cadbury Hill. He had expected the air to be dank, but it had a sharp, fresh tang that was physically invigorating. He could smell tar-smoke from a torch more acutely than anything he had ever smelled before.

He was lying on smooth stone flags, ice-cold against his cheek. Levering himself up, his first impression was that he was sprawled in a temple, almost Egyptian in its scale and grandeur, with stone columns soaring into the shadows overhead and wall murals of breathtaking detail, the blues, golds and reds glowing in the flickering light of torches mounted at regular intervals all around. Sophie was at his side, just as mesmerised.

Incense drifted in their direction and Sophie stirred. ‘Are you OK?’ She helped Mallory to his feet; he winced.

‘No. Couple of cracked ribs from the fight. I’ll have to take it easy. Where are we?’

‘I don’t know. Feel up to having a look round?’

Sophie took one of the torches from the wall and led the way. The atmosphere grew more oppressive as they progressed into the heart of the temple. They couldn’t shake the impression that they were being watched, that someone or something was going to come upon them suddenly from behind. There was a disturbing hallucinogenic quality to everything; the edges of their vision were distorted and fragmented; the pounding of their hearts rose up and faded, echoing both within and without.

Their path was blocked by an enormous cat, easily as big as
Sophie, with staring eyes as round and large as plates. Mallory and Sophie stopped sharply, but the cat didn’t move; it simply stared at them as if it could see right into their heads.

Mallory’s hand went to his sword, but Sophie stopped him. ‘Wait,’ she whispered.

‘That is the creepiest thing I’ve ever seen,’ Mallory said under his breath.

Beyond the cat the floor ended abruptly. Three paths moved away over the gulf, each one barely wider than a human foot.

‘It’s a test,’ Sophie whispered. ‘Whatever’s in there, they’re not going to let just anyone enter. We have to prove we’re worthy.’

‘It could be a test,’ Mallory agreed, ‘or it could be a booby trap to take out anyone who comes near the place. You get halfway along one of those paths and the thing crumbles under your feet. That’s if we can get past McCavity there.’

‘Why don’t you walk up to it and see what it does?’

‘Why don’t
you?
’ Mallory considered drawing his sword, then decided Sophie was probably right. Whatever the thing was – and it certainly was not a cat, despite its appearance – there was no point in antagonising it.