always be there to be discovered by anyone who understood the secret language of symbolism.
The true story, the important story, was not the one on the surface; it was the one hidden beneath. And that’s what Hal knew he had to do: cut through the surface story to find the real message.
The Arthurian legends spoke of places where the power of the king was concentrated, of Camelot and Avalon and the lake where Excalibur was found. Many of these places, the stories said, were pathways to another world. But Hal knew that the power of the king in the legends was not meant to be the temporal power of an earthly ruler. It was real power: the Blue Fire, the energy that coursed through the Earth and every living thing upon it. That was the first, and greatest, of the hidden messages.
Ley lines, spirit paths, the dragon lines of the Chinese. King Arthur, who was a force for good against evil and the defender of the land against the darkness, was a code for this power. Any place linked to Arthur was a spot where the Earth Power was strongest. And these power nodes could be used to cross over to the Otherworld, the place he had witnessed with awe when he had gazed through the reversed monument at Shugborough.
As Hal turned these things over in his mind, he found himself becoming increasingly excited, for instinctively he knew that he was nearing some point of revelation. When a log crackled and spat, another connection leaped forward: he suddenly realised that like the Shugborough monument, the symbols coded into the stories had two faces, dual strands of information operating one on top of the other. In fact, the more he considered it, the more he knew this to be true. Duality was everywhere. Two worlds, side by side, reflecting each other yet different, both influencing the other. Good and evil. Humans and gods. Life and Anti-Life.
So if there were double meanings in the legends, what did that suggest? Certainly, on one level, that King Arthur was a symbol of the Blue Fire.
But on another, also that there was a king. A king who embodied the Earth Power. A defender waiting to be called back in Britain’s darkest hour — that was what the legends said. And surely this was the darkest hour of all, when life was about to be subsumed by Anti-Life.
His heart beat faster.
Et in Arcadia Ego. And in Arcadia — the Otherworld — I wait. But ‘I’ was not death. It was the king, and the tomb in Poussin’s painting was where he lay, waiting to be awoken.
And the flipside of that was the anagram of the inscription on the tomb: I Tego Arcana Dei. Begone! I conceal the secrets of God. The king was infused with the power of God, the Blue Fire. The power of life that could throw back the Void.
That was why the secrets had been waiting until this moment to be revealed, to be discovered by Hal: so that he could bring the defender back. Hal felt a frisson as the pattern surfaced. It suggested the influence of a hidden intelligence, and a vast, unimaginable master plan with connections stretching across millennia.
Almost there now. One final question: who was the king?
The plan had clearly been put in motion at some point in the ancient history of Cadbury Hill when the Wish Stone had been buried. But not just anyone could have found it.
Another connection.
Not just anyone: only a Brother or Sister of Dragons. That was the key: the Pendragon Spirit was integral to this grand scheme.
And then he had it. ‘Jack Churchill,’ he said out loud. The symbolic ‘King’ of the last group of Five. Ryan Veitch was definitely dead and buried after the devastation of the Battle of London, but Jack Churchill was only presumed dead. There hadn’t been a body, that much was clear from the intelligence briefing Samantha had recovered from the files.
What if, during the final cataclysmic struggle, Jack Churchill had somehow been thrown into T’ir n’a n’Og? Perhaps amnesiac, perhaps in a coma. Hal’s mind raced. What if he was such a powerful avatar of the Pendragon Spirit that he could defeat the Void’s Anti-Life? A secret weapon, waiting to be found, and brought back, and used. The ultimate weapon that would tip the balance in the war.
Hal couldn’t be sure that he was right, not completely, but the symbolism and the facts fitted together nicely; and instinctively he was convinced.
He had to tell Hunter immediately. Perhaps there was still time for the Brothers and Sisters of Dragons to cross the barrier between the worlds somehow and bring Jack Churchill back from his exile. The stories said that time operated differently in the Otherworld. Hunter and the others could be there and back in the blink of an eye.
Hal felt a rush of excitement mingled with relief. He had played his part, and he’d done so without leaving his armchair. With a whoop, he jumped up, ready to rush out to the High Street to find Hunter.
Only he was no longer alone. Two armed soldiers stood just inside the door, and between them was Reid.
‘Time to go, Hal,’ he said, with a cold smile.
As he made his way along the High Street towards the barricade, Hunter heard his name called anxiously. He turned to see Samantha running through the snow, looking desperate.
Jumping down, he ran to her and they embraced passionately. ‘How did you find me?’ he said softly when they pulled apart.
‘There was a giant… all surrounded by blue light…’ Samantha appeared dazed after her meeting with the Caretaker. ‘He told me where you were, said I had to take his lantern back to him.’
Hunter fetched the Wayfinder from the horse, where it had been hanging from the saddle. ‘Tell him thanks for the loan,’ Hunter said, handing it over.
Touching the lantern had an effect on Samantha: her pupils grew less dilated, her mind cleared. ‘Hal’s in trouble,’ she said suddenly.
‘I know.’
‘He’s-’
Hunter took her by the shoulders to calm her. ‘He’s safe. Don’t worry.’
She leaned forward to kiss him strongly, and Hunter felt a surge of love so deep and powerful that it shook him to the core. As he pulled away, he could see that Samantha felt it, too. ‘Don’t get killed, Hunter.’ She caught herself, then added, ‘You and I-’
‘You know Hal loves you,’ Hunter interrupted. It was a truth that he had only come to realise in the last hour, but once he had recognised it, it was obvious.
Samantha was taken aback by his response. ‘I know he likes me-’
‘You should go to him. You’ll make a good couple. If all this pans out right.’
Samantha took a step back, struggling to find solid ground. ‘I thought… we could…’
‘A betting man would say I probably won’t come out of this alive. And even if I do, there are lots of places to go, people to see. Women
…’ His voice trailed off; he couldn’t keep it up any longer, but he could see from the hardening of Samantha’s face that he had done enough. ‘Go to Hal. He’s at Mrs Damask’s,’ he said. ‘He needs you.’
She backed away, still unsure what to make of his words, but her pride would not allow her to say any more. ‘Don’t worry, I will.’
When Hunter was a short way down the road, he allowed himself one quick glance back at the tiny departing figure, the blue light from the Wayfinder washing out across the snow. The sight was heartbreaking.
Then he turned towards the sounds of battle rising up from all sides and spurred his horse onwards, his mind locked on conflict and victory.
The snow was falling heavily when Mallory arrived at the southern barricade. It added an incongruously ethereal atmosphere to the street scene, dampening sounds, blanketing the flaws of human living. But as he neared the hastily erected metal wall, the sounds of battle rose up. There were no cries of pain or anger from the Lament- Brood beyond; they remained eerily silent, washing against the barricade like a summer swell in a harbour.
But the soldiers lined up along the walls made up for it with a cacophony of defiance. It was all an act; Mallory could see that their faces were etched white with fear. Beyond the barricade, the hellish invading army stretched as far as the eye could see.
They fired SA8os, hand pistols, rifles, from the walls and from all vantage points on the nearby buildings. Brass cartridges rained through the air, glittering in the arc lamps, and the sound was like a Caribbean rainstorm. Further back from the barricade, the big guns waited for any enemy breakthrough of the front line.
Mallory reined in his horse and waited; it was only a matter of time before the defences were swept aside by
