It worried Hal sufficiently that he packed up his books and dropped them off at the enquiry desk, answering the librarian’s questions about his progress with a blank smile before hurrying out into the bitter day.
The mood after the Cabinet meeting was desolate. The General attempted to hold his head high as he marched out of the darkened room towards the Ministry of Defence offices, but once inside he was crushed by the absolute devastation of his plans. There was nothing good to report; there was no hope that he could see. He’d attempted to put an optimistic spin on the debriefing, but everyone had seen through it. The PM had asked about the deployment of battlefield nukes, and the fact that even the leader was considering such extreme action on British soil showed that they were approaching the last act.
‘General?’
He turned to see Manning, who, for once, had not said a single word during the meeting. ‘Catherine.’
‘I notice you left a few details out of your report. How long before the enemy reach Oxford?’
‘I omitted that strand because to consider it would be an admission of failure. We will stop the enemy long before they reach Oxford.’
Manning’s dismissive shrug made the General burn inside, but he maintained his surface calm.
‘Battlefield nuclear weapons? How many are you planning to use?’ she asked. ‘How many have we stockpiled? You suggested that there appears to be a near-endless supply of the enemy… all flooding over from the Otherworld, I presume. Logically-’
‘I don’t concern myself with theoretical arguments. There are several tactical options we haven’t begun to try.’
‘How long, General?’
The General cursed under his breath, realising why he disliked the woman so much. ‘We can’t estimate anything at the moment. The enemy’s advance has come to a halt just south of Berwick. We don’t know how long they’re going to stay there, or why.’
‘But you have an idea.’
The General chose his words carefully. ‘Intelligence suggests that the enemy is eliminating any potential opposition.’
‘So they’re eradicating the population as they advance, pausing, cleansing an area, moving on. Berwick has fallen?’
The General nodded.
‘We can’t rely on conventional means, General. We have to put our faith in other measures.’
‘No option has been ruled out, Catherine.’
The General was distracted by a young assistant from his offices who was trailing snow behind him as he ran towards them. ‘General, sir,’ the young man said breathlessly as he skidded to a halt. ‘There’s been a survivor, sir. From the rout, in Scotland. He’s on his way in by chopper now.’
The General turned back to Manning. ‘I have to go.’
‘Consider what I said, General.’
But the General was already doing his best to forget her, and all politicians, as he followed the assistant back to the Ministry of Defence offices. All he needed was one break, a single flaw in the enemy’s defence, and he would strike back with maximum force. If the survivor had any new intelligence, he would seize it forcefully and then he would show Manning and all the others exactly what he stood for.
Hunter was in much better shape by the time the chopper touched down in the Deer Park. His amazement at the healing ability of the Pendragon Spirit had been superseded by a long period of intense reflection on what it meant for him to have been chosen to receive such a power. In one instant he had been forced to look at himself and his place in the world in a different light. No longer could he pretend that he was just a foot soldier drifting from mission to mission. He now had a purpose, and an obligation, if only he could decide what they were.
The General met him as he climbed down from the chopper. ‘I should have known you’d be back.’
‘Yes, sir, and thank you for your good wishes.’ The General allowed Hunter some latitude as he always did, but Hunter knew he couldn’t push his superior too far this time.
‘I hope you’ve come back with some useful information,’ the General said.
‘I believe so, sir.’
‘We’ll head straight to debriefing. Your men?’
‘All dead.’ Hunter’s stomach twisted at the loss of those under his command. The hardest to accept was Clevis; his uncomprehending face at the moment of his death was burned into Hunter’s mind.
‘You look remarkably hale and hearty. Not even a scratch?’
‘I have very thick skin.’
By the time they reached the debriefing room where most of the top brass had already congregated, Hunter had decided what information he was going to reveal and what he was going to hold back. He described in unflinching detail how the enemy took over the fallen and added them to its ranks, and he watched as faces grew steely when he described the King of Insects and the four Lords leading the attack. His account of what was really causing the arctic weather only added to the dark mood in the room. But there was some talk of a potential ally when he told how the White Walker had helped him to the nearest outpost, where he had rested while he made radio contact and waited to be picked up.
But of the Pendragon Spirit and his role as Brother of Dragons, he said not a word.
After the General had given Hunter a day’s leave to recuperate, Hunter slipped quickly away and sought out Hal, who seemed to have transformed his office into an art gallery. Hunter cast his eye over the large and small copies of the same painting and said, ‘It’s a bit late in the day to pretend you have some culture.’
Hal smiled warmly. ‘I was starting to get worried.’
‘I thought I’d trained you better than that.’
Hal suddenly came alive in a manner Hunter hadn’t seen before. ‘I’ve got something to tell you,’ he said, motioning to the pictures pinned all over the walls. ‘I’m investigating an artefact that Brother of Dragons brought back from Cadbury Hill.’
Hunter perked up at this. ‘Go on.’
‘It links to this painting, and then to a monument at some stately home called Shugborough Hall. I don’t know what it all means yet, but I’m sure it’s important.’ He paused, unable to restrain a grin. ‘More than important.’
‘Right.’ Hunter thought intensely for a moment. ‘You’ve got to keep me up to speed about that. But don’t tell anyone else before you tell me.’
‘Why?’
‘We’ve discussed this. I know best,’ Hunter replied. Hal shook his head wearily. ‘That Brother of Dragons… Mallory. He’s still around? They’ve not carted him off to some arse-end of the country for interrogation?’
‘He was shot.’
Hunter grew grave. ‘Dead?’
‘They thought so, at first. Last I heard he was in surgery in the high-security section. They’re fighting to save his life.’
‘Bloody hell. They couldn’t even take him out of security when he’s at death’s door. They must be scared of him.’
‘What’s all this about?’ Hal said with exasperation. ‘Did you bang your head while you were out playing soldiers?’
‘I’ve got something to tell you. But you have to swear you won’t tell anyone.’
‘Of course. Nothing would induce me to pass on the contents of your sleazy mind.’
‘I’m serious. OK, you might not believe this… in fact, I can guarantee you won’t. I’m a Brother of Dragons.’
The blood drained from Hal’s face so rapidly that Hunter was concerned for his friend’s health. ‘It’s not the end of the world, mate. You’d better sit down. The way I see it, it’s a good thing.’
Hal listened while Hunter related all he had learned from the White Walker. ‘So I’ve got this… power in me called the Pendragon Spirit,’ he said finally. ‘If you could have seen how I healed. Bloody hell, I looked like I’d been tossed around an abattoir after the battle. Now I’m back to my fantastically attractive former self.’
‘What else does it do?’
Hunter was concerned at the intensity he saw in Hal; his friend looked as if he was close to desperation. ‘I haven’t worked that out yet, but I reckon there’s some kind of bond between the Five. I know I felt something when
