Hal remained silent, but Reid wasn’t offended. He shrugged and said, ‘I believe Hunter is getting his little band together. We need them here, now, if we are to stand a chance. Can you get word to him?’
‘I don’t think Hunter or any of the Brothers and Sisters of Dragons will work with the Government. They don’t trust you… us.’
Reid nodded. ‘Understandable, I suppose. In which case, I face a conundrum.’
‘I don’t know where they are, Mister Reid, and that’s the truth.’
‘Then all I’m asking of you, Hal — begging you — is that when Hunter does finally contact you, as he undoubtedly will, I want you to pass on to him the message that the last stand against the Void will be made here, and that he really needs to be with us. We’re in the final stage of this game, Hal, and what may be the twilight days of the human race. None of us must falter.’
Chapter Fourteen
‘ Mankind, when left to themselves, are unfit for their own government.’
The screeching blast of the siren tore Hal from troubled dreams of betrayal and hatred. He scrambled out of his bed into the freezing cold room and ran to the window. Through the thick frost that lined the glass inside and out he could just discern frantic activity. Soldiers carrying rifles raced along the street. A few seconds later, a truck packed with more soldiers followed a snowplough down the centre of the road.
Hal’s first thought was that either Manning had launched some kind of coup or that Reid had arranged for her arrest and some kind of disturbance had broken out. Still half-asleep, he stripped off the several layers of clothing he’d taken to wearing in bed, splashed some water on his face and quickly dressed.
He was barely out of his room when Samantha came running up the corridor in a state of distress.
‘What’s wrong?’ he said, catching her in his arms.
She sobbed against his shoulder for a moment before she calmed enough to tell him. ‘It’s the prime minister — he’s been assassinated.’
‘What happened? Tell me.’ Hal gently pushed Samantha away from him so that he could look in her face.
‘I don’t know.’ She wiped her tears away with the back of one hand. ‘No one’s releasing any details. All we’ve heard is that it happened about half an hour ago. They’re shutting down all buildings and instituting an immediate curfew while they search for the killer.’
Hal’s jaw gaped in shock. Is that what Manning had been planning? If so, Reid must be devastated at not having acted immediately. But then no one could have foreseen it. Who would possibly kill their leader on the eve of a battle that would determine the survival of the human race? He decided not to tell Samantha anything about Manning and his conversation with Reid in case it put her in danger.
‘If we’re being confined to our quarters, I wanted to be here with you,’ she said.
Hal took her back inside and quickly made up the fire. Once it was roaring, he brewed up and they sat warming themselves while they drank their herbal infusion.
‘I don’t know what’s going to happen to us,’ Samantha said desolately. ‘I always had hope that things were going to turn out all right… they always do, don’t they? Or did. Even at the Fall, when it seemed as if it was the end. We pulled through that. But now I’m not so sure.’
‘Things will work out,’ Hal said with as much optimism as he could muster. ‘There are a lot of good people working on our behalf.’
Samantha didn’t look convinced, so Hal changed the subject. ‘I’ve been doing a bit more research on the mystery we found at Shugborough and I think I’ve made a breakthrough.’ He fetched a pile of books and papers from his desk and spread them out around her.
‘I don’t know how you can think about that at a time like this,’ Samantha muttered.
‘Because it might be our only hope,’ Hal said simply.
Reluctantly, she picked up a book of illustrations of one of the Grail romances. ‘What’s this? King Arthur?’
‘The stone with the Poussin image inside was found at Cadbury Hill, one of the supposed locations of Camelot. There are lots of Arthurian links floating around this whole business. I’m starting to think that maybe the legend of King Arthur is a code, too, like the Poussin painting and the Shepherds’ Monument — that the stories themselves and elements of them are meant to be symbolic. And that somehow they tie in to what we’re looking for.’
‘Sounds a bit tenuous,’ Samantha said, unconvinced.
‘Not really. Arthur’s sword, Excalibur, was supposed to have come from the Otherworld. And that’s where he went when he died. And the Poussin painting is of a tomb, and the mystery surrounding it points to T’ir n’a n’Og.’
‘Arthur’s Tomb?’
‘Like I said, it’s a code. We shouldn’t take it at face value.’
‘But the King Arthur legend goes back centuries before Poussin, even. How long has all this been weaving together?’
‘Ah,’ Hal said with a smile. ‘That’s the mystery.’
Before he could say any more, they were disturbed by the sound of numerous booted feet running along the corridor without. Doors were flung open, orders barked. Hal’s door crashed wide and a grim-faced soldier stood there brandishing a rifle as if he was prepared to shoot Hal and Samantha on the spot.
‘There’s a curfew,’ he said. ‘No one’s to leave their quarters.’
‘We heard the news,’ Hal said. ‘Who’s in charge?’
The soldier’s cold eyes observed Hal with near-contempt for a moment before he replied, ‘The General.’ And then he was gone and Hal’s many other questions were left unanswered: what about the rest of the Cabinet? Where was Reid? And what did the General plan to do now?
The journey from Glastonbury had been hard, over roads and fields that resembled the Arctic wastes in the face of a wind that raked at their flesh day and night. Mallory wished he could have turned his back on his responsibilities and stayed behind in the magical atmosphere of the sunlit Tor. When the summer gave way to winter as he passed the limit of the Culture’s influence, he felt a palpable pang of despair and looked back repeatedly until the blizzard blocked the glowing uplands from view. The biting cold and the dark days felt more than just a physical hardship; they were signs of a world bereft of hope, winding down to die as the last candle guttered.
With his mood still tainted by the loss of Sophie, it would have been easy to give in to despair, but Shavi was there on the horse at his side with quiet words of encouragement. Mallory already felt that he could trust the young Asian man with his life. Shavi was the most spiritual person Mallory had ever met; the peace he radiated was almost contagious, filtering in through Mallory’s pores, neutralising his blackest thoughts, shining a light into the dark areas of his soul. Mallory knew that over time the Brothers and Sisters of Dragons increasingly exhibited peculiar abilities, and this, he decided, was Shavi’s: the magic of the soul, given strength and weight. That description had an uneasily religious tang for someone like Mallory, who had little time for God or gods, but even he instinctively felt the truth of it.
With the wind howling in their ears, Shavi told Mallory of how he had fled a repressive family in West London for a life of searching. He had hungrily devoured the teachings of every major religion and most of the minor ones, eventually turning to more esoteric knowledge as he quested for his own personal grail. But then he had experienced colourful dreams that drew him into contact with the other Brothers and Sisters of Dragons, much like
