weather.’
‘Doesn’t mean we’re ignorant of everything that’s happening elsewhere. We’re not thick — knowing things is part of what we do here,’ the Bone Inspector said.
‘The wintry weather you talk about was what first alerted us,’ Shavi said. ‘It is the Fimbulwinter, as foretold in Norse mythology. The first sign of the end of the world — Ragnarok. Three successive winters without any intervening summers, and during this time war will follow war and brother will kill brother.’
‘Sounds like situation normal,’ Mallory said.
‘Everything that has happened in recent times has been leading towards this, and all of it was foretold in the ancient stories,’ Shavi explained. ‘The Fall, the first change of the season leading towards the end. Autumn, if you will. And now the Fimbulwinter — The Great Winter — the herald of the Void’s arrival. The Fimbulwinter has been released by the Blue Hag — the Cailleach Bheur — as the world winds down.’
‘How come you haven’t got the snows here?’
‘We have been using subtle magics to hold back the relentless flow of events so that the Brothers and Sisters of Dragons can fight. The power in the land is most potent here. Glastonbury is a node in the Fiery Network. The earth energy can hold back the winter, at least for a while.’
‘So, the way I understand it,’ Mallory said, ‘the Brothers and Sisters of Dragons are the only ones who can hope to oppose the Void. But I can’t even begin to see how that could be possible. I had enough trouble with a handful of Government thugs.’
‘There are greater powers at work, and you can tap into them,’ the Bone Inspector said forcefully. ‘You might even say you represent them. Don’t ever forget that.’
‘But five’s the magic number, right?’ Mallory said. ‘And there aren’t five of us. Two are missing — we’ve got no idea who they are. There’s a psycho-soldier, goes by the name of Hunter, who’s off walking the land like Kwai Chang Caine. There’s me. And then there’s my girlfriend, Sophie Tallent.’ Mallory steeled himself, but he still felt queasy saying the words. ‘And she’s dead.’
Shavi and the Bone Inspector flinched as one.
‘So we’re not even halfway to making a fist of it. Things don’t look good. Hunter and I decided that the best chance we had was to seek out some of the old Brothers and Sisters of Dragons to make up the full complement.’
‘It doesn’t work like that,’ the Bone Inspector snapped.
‘The Pendragon Spirit is strong in those who are currently chosen,’ Shavi said, ‘but much weaker in those who have completed the task for which they were selected. I still feel it in me, but these days it is like a single flame whereas during the Fall it was like a raging fire.’
Mallory prodded at the ashes with a stick. ‘I can’t say as I’m surprised. We always expected a catch. So that’s it? It’s over?’
‘There’s always hope,’ the Bone Inspector said so fiercely that Mallory thought the old man was going to lean across the fire and hit him. ‘That’s what you lot are all about.’
‘My friend is right,’ Shavi said. ‘You have travelled far to ask for my aid and I will answer the call, for how could I not in this time of greatest need? It will be an honour to stand shoulder to shoulder with a Brother of Dragons once more. And even if I can be of little use, I will strive to do my best, as our kind always do.’
Mallory was impressed, and a little chastened, by the levels of decency he saw in the young man sitting opposite him.
‘I’ll come, too,’ the Bone Inspector said.
‘No. You must stay here.’ Shavi was firm. ‘If it is possible that we can find some kind of victory, it is unlikely that I will return. That is not fatalism. It is simply probable. You will be needed here to continue our work, for the new age that we have won.’
‘And if I do go with you I’ll be next to bloody useless. That’s what you’re saying, isn’t it?’ the Bone Inspector said gruffly.
Shavi laughed, and it was an infectious sound that made Mallory laugh, too, despite the darkness of their conversation. As they made their way back across the abbey grounds, Mallory was glad he would have Shavi fighting with him, even if, as he guessed, they would have no chance of winning.
Night had fallen by the time Hal and Samantha’s helicopter whipped across the snow-blanketed Staffordshire countryside towards Shugborough Hall. It felt as if the days were rapidly growing shorter, until soon there would be nothing but constant night.
‘I still can’t believe you got the opportunity to meet the PM,’ Samantha said, huddled in the depths of her parka as she watched the white world speed by below. ‘He’s been locked away since all this blew up.’
‘He’s under a lot of pressure. I get the impression he’s being pulled from pillar to post. Everyone in the Cabinet, every advisor, seems to have an opinion on what to do. Everywhere you go you can hear them arguing amongst themselves, over dinner, in the bars, in the corridors. I wouldn’t fancy being the PM right now.’
‘But he listened to you, didn’t he?’ Samantha said warmly.
‘He listened. I don’t know if he took anything in, though — he was so distracted.’ Hal recalled the PM’s face the minute he had stepped into his room, so grey and drawn that he was almost unrecognisable. There was a report on his desk to which his eyes kept drifting, and as they moved towards it, Hal could see a deep dread in them, like a dark pit. Hal didn’t know what the report said, but he knew what the PM thought it meant: no hope.
Yet strangely that had only enthused Hal all the more. The PM may not really have paid heed to what Hal had said, but Hal was convinced he was on the right path. It was only logical to him that a conventional response would never work against such an unconventional threat; the only way to oppose it was to utilise something as strange and illogical and potentially devastating as the threat itself. Quite clearly that meant something supernatural. Reid had the right idea with his treasure trove of mysterious artefacts, but nothing in there was big enough. It needed the Brothers and Sisters of Dragons and whatever grand design they tapped into.
And after so long feeling weak and ineffectual, Hal felt as if he was finally living up to whatever was expected of him in his role as a Brother of Dragons. He might not be wielding a sword like Mallory or staring death in the face like Hunter, but he was using his own particular strengths: his logical mind, his attention to detail, his forensic approach to problems. It sounded almost laughable to consider those abilities on a par with martial skills, but he was sure he would now be able to uncover the great secret that was hinted at by the Wish Stone, the thing that would finally give them the upper hand. Then he would be a hero, and what a great feeling that would be after being a faceless toiler all his life.
It made it easier to cope with the guilt he felt at running away from his obligation as a Brother of Dragons during the preceding days, at not telling his best friend, and at failing to offer support and solidarity when Hunter was setting off to fight the unknown. Basically, he’d been a coward. But not any more.
‘We’re nearly there.’ The pilot turned towards them, his voice muffled through the scarf he wore in the chilly cab. ‘You still want me to set you down on the village green outside the estate? It’s a long walk.’
Hal nodded. He knew it would be a hard hike to their destination through the snow, but he didn’t want to draw attention to what they were doing by bringing the chopper in too close to the hall. He had a growing sense of paranoia that the enemy knew what he was doing and would attempt to stop him.
The pilot brought the chopper down on the common at Milford, the tiny village next to the Shugborough estate, now buried somewhere beneath the thick snow. Hal and Samantha jumped out and hurried away as the chopper rose quickly into the sky. That part of the Staffordshire countryside had been designated a potential danger zone because of its proximity to the wild expanse of Cannock Chase, which had become home to so many inexplicable creatures and events since the Fall. Hal checked his watch: they had an hour and a half before the pilot returned.
It was a clear night, sharp as a wolf’s tooth, with the stars glittering overhead and the moon bright. The crunch of their feet in the snow was the only sound. When they reached the trees bordering the estate, Hal looked back to see their line of footprints scarring the pristine white cover. The whole countryside was at peace, still and sleepy as a Christmas card. There was an affecting beauty to it; so much of humanity’s mark had been obscured and what did remain — the few houses, a lone road sign — nestled in the snow as if gradually becoming part of the natural world.
Stone gates marked the entrance to a long lane with trees on either side forming a thick cover overhead. Even with the moonlight reflected from the snow, it was unsettlingly dark. Anything could be watching their
