Stepping onto the palace roof, Mallory sees that the defences are already in place, here and on the other highest points around the city. He knows Decebalus has trained them well since the first attack that had killed so many. Ranks of golden-skinned archers from the elite forces of the Tuatha De Danaan face the roiling black clouds on the distant horizon. Behind them, the Army of Dragons prepare to use the bizarre but devastating weapons created in the vast armoury of Goibhniu, Creidhne and Luchtaine.
The tolling bells continue to sound. Clang, clang, clang. In the city below, the streets clear rapidly in a mood of fear and desperation. Doors and shutters are bolted.
Mallory watches the black clouds move slowly across the great plain. 'I don't know how much more of this we can take,' he says. 'We can't just sit here under siege until every building is reduced to rubble.'
'Huh. The Enemy's full army has not arrived yet,' Decebalus grunts.
'Thanks for the reassurance.'
As the storm clouds near, they part to reveal the creatures at their core. Three Riot-Beasts, each with twin leonine heads, eyes rolling with idiocy as they silently roar, their big-cat bodies covered with scales, feathers and fur. They are engines of destruction, throwing out crackling bolts of energy more devastating than any missile. Each time he sees them, Mallory is unnerved by the way they float without wings or any other visible means of staying aloft.
The day becomes like night as the storm clouds fill the sky, and a low bass rumble vibrates through everything. As the Riot-Beasts reach the city walls, plasma balls sizzle erratically, exploding rooftops and sending out waves of superheated air. Towers crash to the ground in a rain of masonry as the creatures blunder across the city.
'Now!' Decebalus roars, and a hail of arrows arc majestically. Some hit their target, but the Riot-Beasts show no pain, if they can even feel it.
Mallory nods, and Decebalus orders the firing of the greater weapons from the vaults of the Tuatha De Danaan. The air becomes glassy or boils in a wave of fire, and bolts of energy shriek like banshees. Sometimes the Riot-Beasts are knocked off course. Mostly, they continue on their paths of destruction, occasionally bursting into flame until the wind or gusting rain extinguishes the blaze.
'We haven't got anything that can hurt them,' Mallory says redundantly. His anger boils within him, but he maintains a cool demeanour for the sake of his troops.
'Whatever, we send out a message,' Decebalus replies. 'We will resist unto death.'
'Very poetic, with an unnerving knack for premonition.'
The battle continues for fifteen full minutes. Across the city, buildings collapse and roofs are torn off. Many die. Finally the Riot-Beasts drift away as if they are leaves caught on the wind. The storm clouds follow, the thunder's rumbling decreasing, until the sun eventually breaks through.
'As soon as you have the figures, let me know how many died this time,' Mallory orders.
'Why do you punish yourself?'
'Because until I find a proper defence, I'm responsible for every one.'
They wait until their exhausted troops file off the rooftop before making their way down. There have been too many attacks, and little chance to rest.
Now the attack has passed, you prepare to move on. You are unsettled; the threat here is palpable. But you know there is still more to see. The Far Lands is a place of subtlety and intrigue, and many things shift behind the surface of all that you see.
5
In the ringing corridors of the palace, a woman staggers, blood streaming from a gash on her temple. Her name is Marie, a scullery girl in a large London house during the Regency period of George IV; ignored by those who believed themselves to be her betters, she gained renown as a brave Sister of Dragons. Here, though, she is disoriented, terrified; the world has shifted beneath her feet.
As Mallory and Decebalus come down from the roof, engaged in deep debate about tactics, she comes to a halt, wide-eyed. Seeing her wound, Mallory and Decebalus rush to her aid, but she only shrieks and presses against the stone wall as if hoping it might swallow her.
An accusing finger points at Mallory. 'Stay back!' she says, and then to Decebalus, 'He tried to kill me!'
'When?' the barbarian asks.
'Not five minutes ago, during the attack.'
'Impossible. Mallory was at my side then, up on the roof.'
Marie wavers, her eyes flashing from side to side. 'He tried to kill me, I tell you!'
Decebalus motions for Mallory to step back as he attends to the young woman. 'This is not the truth, Marie. Either you are mistaken, or it is some kind of magic.'
'Magic, then!' She stares at Mallory accusingly. 'His face, Decebalus. He came at me as the fire rained down, in the dark of the upper floors. Instinct made me turn at the last. Good fortune was all I had, but it was enough. I did not see his weapon, but I felt it as it tore through my flesh. I did see his face.' She points again. 'And I ran… here-'
'Think, Marie,' Decebalus says sharply. 'You ran into us — Mallory was not pursuing you. He was ahead.'
The woman wavers, tries to make sense. 'Then who…?'
'The one who's already killed two Brothers and Sisters of Dragons,' Mallory says. 'The Enemy's sent an assassin to pick us off one by one.'
'If it uses your face, then it attempts to undermine our spirit,' Decebalus says gravely. 'If it can use any face, then who can we trust?'
Troubled, Mallory and Decebalus deliver Marie to a healer and then seek out comfort and the sun in the herb garden, which lies beyond a maze of lavender in a walled area at the rear of the palace. The air is heavy with rich perfumes. Decebalus and Mallory find Aula tending her herbs, as she does at that time every day. At first Mallory does not recognise her. Her blond hair shimmering in the sun, the Roman Briton's face is strikingly peaceful as she immerses herself in the garden's atmosphere, a far cry from the fierce looks that usually accompany her caustic tones. Her mask returns when she sees them both.
'So little to do you must trouble me here?' she says tartly. 'No wonder we face disaster.'
'Your day would be bereft without a visit from the one who gives your life meaning,' Decebalus replies with a broad grin.
Aula snorts unconvincingly then turns to Mallory. 'She plays in the maze,' she says.
Past clouds of honeybees, Mallory weaves through the heavily scented bushes and eventually sees the top of a young girl's head in the centre of the maze. Virginia Dare never smiles. Occasionally, a heartbreaking, haunted look will appear in the depths of her eyes. In that moment it is possible to comprehend the many atrocities she has witnessed since the Army of the Ten Billion Spiders kidnapped her and her fellow settlers from Roanoke in the New World almost five hundred years ago. She has spent her formative years in the heart of horrors, the Void's Fortress on the edge of the Far Lands, until her escape. Though only eight years old, her eyes say she is a hundred.
'Is it time?' She cradles a doll made for her by one of the kitchen staff who had hoped it would bring back some aspect of childhood.
'Not yet. But soon. I need to ask you if you are prepared to do it.'
'You have asked me twice already.'
'Now I'm asking you a third time.'
'Yes,' she says without hesitation. 'I will travel with you to the Enemy Fortress, and show you the secret way I discovered under the walls.'
'You know what it will mean?'
'You want to protect me, Mallory,' she replies in too-old tones, 'but it is too late for that. I am ruined.'
Mallory cannot look in her face; it makes him too desperately sad.
'She'll be fine.'
Frequently, these days, he never hears Caitlin come up on him. She stands at the entrance to the maze's central rest zone, still slick with sweat, holding her axe loosely. Mallory searches her eyes to see who is in control
