‘Everyone alright?’ asked Paris.
The group nodded, although none with any certainty.
Paris glared at Tergil. ‘You never said they had dragons on their side!’
‘They do not,’ replied the elf. ‘They have doubtless captured it, held it with a spell, then released it to panic your forces.’
‘Well, it’s bloody working! Why aren’t you fighting it?’
‘I do not even have my sword with me. How can I fight it?’
‘How do you think?’ replied Paris. ‘With magic!’
Tergil shook his head. ‘I am a soldier, not a sorcerer. Basic, short-range mental control is the limit of my abilities.’
‘Don’t look at me,’ said Cassandra. ‘Even if I wanted to hurt such a wonderful thing – which I don’t – witchcraft is no good against something like this.’
Despite being told not to, Paris looked at her. She was a constant source of surprise to him. And sometimes the surprise really wasn’t what he wanted.
‘Great,’ he said. ‘I’ve had magic driving me mad for days. But when I need it, we haven’t got any.’
A fizzing noise tore through the air before he could say another word, followed by screams. Paris turned to peer over the truck. Orange and yellow sparks flew up from the direction of the portal, bursting out above the rooftops.
‘Mystical energy blasts,’ said Tergil. ‘Battle mages.’
‘Hey, Boss,’ said Bonetti. ‘They’ve got magic.’
‘Really?’ replied Paris. ‘I don’t think they’re going to lend us any.’
Between the sparks, a huge scaled head glowered over the houses. The dragon had evidently emerged completely into the garden and stomped right up to the building. Paris couldn’t see the twinkling oval of lights behind it now, though he guessed it was still there. Reduced down to demon size, he assumed. Probably staying open while they charged through, but at least no more gigantic reptiles were coming. So far.
The dragon reared up onto its hind legs, planting the front ones on the house. Roof tiles and a TV aerial tumbled to the ground. Enormous green wings began to flap, as litter and loose items billowed around in the updraught.
‘It’s trying to fly,’ said Paris. ‘Looks like it’s struggling.’
With what seemed a Herculean effort, the creature finally took to the air, smashing part of the roof in the process. Paris gaped in amazement as it climbed.
‘As I told you,’ said Tergil. ‘It does not want to be part of the conflict. It is trying to get away.’
‘Can’t say I blame it,’ replied the inspector. ‘Except no one’s told our choppers.’
He watched the helicopters fly in as the beast rose higher, dwarfed by it like pigeons attacking an eagle. These pigeons, however, had talons. Rockets smashed into the dragon, causing it to roar in pain and shoot out more blue flames. One helicopter exploded, wreckage raining down beyond the nearby houses. The others continued the attack, with modern firepower overwhelming medieval fire. The wounded creature fled across the sky, two aircraft in pursuit.
Paris viewed the scene with a great deal of sadness. In war there were always innocent casualties. Just not usually that magnificent. Or that big.
More orange sparks shot up into the air, accompanied by shouting. Paris peered over the truck again. British soldiers were pulling back from the battered yellow house. Some still firing at the Vanethria, some fighting hand-to-hand. And losing. Once the demons got close enough, guns were useless. Bare fists were no match for swords and ferocity.
Paris turned to glare at Tergil again. ‘You said battle mages wouldn’t tilt the balance. You said our army would still beat them.’
‘Yes,’ said Tergil. ‘In the long term, they will.’
Paris’s eyes narrowed. ‘But in the short term, we might have half of Manchester wiped out first!’
Soldiers ran past the truck, in full retreat now.
‘We’re pulling back,’ said Paris. ‘Move!’
The quartet fled down the street among the troops, taking cover behind cars as they ran. Paris became separated from the others. He glanced up over the car, trying to spot them. The demons were streaming out from the house with the portal, smashing through the remaining human soldiers. Shadrak and at least three others in similar tattered cloaks were firing mystical blasts at the troops. One orange bolt smashed into a soldier’s chest. He staggered for a moment, then dropped like a stone.
Paris jumped as something bashed into his side. It was Montrose.
‘For God’s sake!’ said the captain. ‘They’ve got some sort of force field stopping our bullets. And they’re just slaughtering my men. How do we fight magic?’
She paused, trying to compose herself. Army training was trying to fend off panic, thought Paris. It was having to work mighty hard.
‘You know what we’re dealing with,’ said Montrose. ‘What do we do?’
The inspector had no answer. He peered over the car again. Another orange blast smashed into a soldier a few metres away. The soldier swayed and wobbled, but didn’t fall. Paris glanced at the mage who’d fired the spell. The demon looked as confused as somebody with a cat’s face could do. And suddenly, all confusion vanished from Paris’s mind. Everything fell into place. The dragon who struggled to fly. The fairies who couldn’t pass through his office window. The powerful sorcery that didn’t really seem so powerful.
He spun to face Montrose, his fist clenched.
‘That’s why they call it the magic world,’ he said. ‘It’s not because that’s where magical creatures come from. It’s because their world itself is magic. It’s the source of their power. When they come here it’s not as strong. And it runs out.’
Montrose’s eyes widened. ‘Are you sure?’
Paris wavered. This was what logic told him, although it was still a damn big gamble. He would definitely be betting his life on it.
An almighty bang sounded off in the near distance. The ground shook. Paris swallowed hard, and made his decision.
‘It’s raining dragons,’ he said. ‘I’m sure.’
Montrose beamed at him. ‘Marvellous!’
The captain clicked on her helmet radio.
‘All units,’ she ordered. ‘This is Montrose. We’re going to attack. Repeat: attack.’
Paris left her shouting instructions as he peered over the car once more. Armageddon filled the street as guns and desperation fought axes, brute strength and sorcery. Dead human soldiers littered the road. Also, he noticed, did some dead demons. Nowhere near as many, but some. His heart swelled for a moment, only to sink instantly. No sign of Cassandra or the others. Where were they? Where was she?
Gunfire rang out all around him as the army began the fightback. Orange and yellow sparks continued to shoot out from the enemy side, though far fewer than before. Bullets slammed into them as their defensive barriers weakened, then fell. The Vanethria panicked, fleeing back towards the portal.
Paris watched with a mixture of relief, gratitude and shock washing over him.
‘That’ll do,’ he said quietly. ‘Magic nil, logic one.’
The demons were on the run now. All fighting had been abandoned. Paris stood up from his crouched position. There would be one hell of a mess to clean up, but at least they would be alive to do it.
Tergil came running towards him from further up the road. His red woolly hat had come off in the fighting, although nobody seemed to be paying him any attention at the moment.
‘You okay?’ asked Paris.
‘I am unharmed,’ replied the elf. ‘But that is not the problem.’
‘Cassandra?’
‘No – your sergeant. The Vanethria have captured him. They have taken him into the magic world.’
41
Paris stared at Tergil in disbelief, too stunned to speak. This wasn’t really something he wanted to hear.
‘We became separated,’ said the elf, ‘as we fled earlier. The next time I saw him, he was being dragged away. A group of Vanethria
soldiers were taking him towards the portal, even as the rest of their forces advanced upon us.’ He paused. ‘Although it would appear that your troops have managed to push them back.’
‘Damn right,’ said a cockney accent.
Paris looked up. Malbus stood on the roof of the car, beady eyes peering down at him.
‘What the hell are you doing?’ asked the inspector, a combination of shock and annoyance helping him to recover his voice. ‘You’re supposed to be telling magical creatures to stay away from here!’
‘I was,’ replied the bird. ‘Been all over the show. Almost wore me wings out. But I saw the kerfuffle here while I was flying around and came to have a look. And y’know what? Your boys done good. Still dunno how though.’
‘Really?’ said Paris. ‘Well, I’ll tell you. Magic isn’t as strong in our world, plus it gets used up quicker. As the Vanethria were casting spells, they were running out of power. I worked it out.’ He fixed his eyes on Tergil. ‘I’m not sure why I had to work it out, though. I thought somebody might have told me.’
‘I did not know,’ said the elf, looking genuinely surprised. ‘We do not generally use enchantment in your world, apart from concealment and other low-level actions. We do not want to attract any attention.’
‘Yeah,’ said Malbus. ‘We wanna keep a low profile. Got any fags?’
Paris glared up at him. As if having Tergil’s enormous ears and a talking crow on display wasn’t bad enough, now the bird wanted cigarettes too. This was a very strange way to be inconspicuous. However, his announcement had evidently been news to Tergil – the poker face had slipped for once. So maybe other visitors from the magic realm didn’t know either, including the demons. Paris racked his brain. Verifiable reports of anyone using spells were, he had to admit, not exactly common. Perhaps magical creatures did just try to keep out of sight. Magical creatures who weren’t as demented as Malbus, anyway. He decided to worry about it later. Right now he had much more important concerns.
‘Never mind that,’ he said. ‘Bonetti’s been taken captive.’
He looked at Tergil again.
‘You sure they’ve taken him to your world?’ asked Paris. ‘I mean, can humans even go through the portal?’
‘Course you can,’ said Malbus. ‘Why not?’
Paris lifted his gaze again, a frown etched across his forehead.
‘Because it’s magic,’ he said.
‘Ah,’ said Tergil. ‘Actually, it is not.’
Paris looked down at the elf once more. He was raising and lowering his frowning head so often he felt like a wrinkled drawbridge.
‘What?’
‘The portal is not a mystical creation,’ said Tergil. ‘It is a natural phenomenon, forming a link between two worlds. All living things may use it: magical creatures, ordinary animals, humans.’
‘But it doesn’t open for us,’ said Paris. ‘We can’t even detect its presence.’
‘True. Although you can still pass through. Think of it as a doorway. Once a door is open, anybody can use it. Your problem is that you have lost the key.’
Paris stared at him, struggling to keep up with what he was being told. He longed for the simpler times of a week ago, when it was only booze that made his head throb.
‘You’d better explain,’ he said.
‘It’s like this,’ said Malbus. ‘See, it’s a natural thing, yeah? You’ve gotta be in touch with nature to make it work. Over the years, humans have kinda moved further and further away. These days you’ve got so much science and technology and stuff that you’ve just about lost any connection with what’s going on around you. So you’ve lost the ability to make the doorway open.’
‘And,’ said Tergil, ‘as you have done so, over the millennia its location has also faded from your collective memory.’
Paris looked up and down between the two of them. Could this be true? He’d heard so many half-truths and so much outright rubbish over the last few days that it was hard to tell. This sounded as mad as some of the other stories, but sort of made sense. Apart from one detail.
‘Hang on,’ he said. ‘You’re telling me this thing has been here for centuries? So why is it in a back garden in Manchester?’
Tergil smiled tightly. ‘A more pertinent question would be, why is Manchester surrounding it? The portal has always been here. Your city has not. Eons ago, this was open moorland. Eventually humans settled in the vicinity. Their small town expanded over time. Now your buildings have swallowed up the nearby countryside – and the cosmic phenomenon it contains.’
Paris’s brain processed furiously, logic sifting information at a rate of knots. And, he realised, without any whisky to help. He could see where this was heading, although the sense of inevitability was followed closely by something in his mind pleading with him to stop working it out.
‘You told me,’ he said, ‘that Shadrak the battle mage had a pet. Like an aardvark, only massive. Now, this gateway has been here forever and animals can pass through it. So you’re saying some of them have done that, thousands of years ago, then evolved into completely separate forms. Right?’
‘Got it in one,’ said Malbus. ‘And it ain’t only animals. There’s other things went across from one world to the other and then changed how they were. They got bigger, or smaller, or grew different sorts of adaptations to where they lived.’
Paris’s eyes widened. He gaped at Tergil.
‘That’s why elves have human DNA,’ he said. ‘You, us, fairies, dwarves – we’ve got a common ancestor. We’re all evolved from the same species.’
‘Yeah,’ said Malbus. ‘You’re probably right. But I was talking about apple trees.’
Paris’s brain reeled at the idea. Even as it did so, shock was swiftly joined by other reactions. Relief at seeing Cassandra approaching unharmed. Sadness at the destruction all around him. Euphoria at the cheering when the last demons were driven back into the portal. He felt like he’d been on the proverbial emotional roller coaster. Plus the emotional big wheel, waltzers, helter-skelter and bouncy castle.
Somebody tapped him on the shoulder. Paris spun round. Captain Montrose nodded a greeting.
‘Are you alright?’ asked the soldier.
‘I will be,’ replied Paris. ‘I’ve just been given some news… about my cousins.’
‘Are they nearby?’
Paris nodded slowly. ‘Kind of.’
‘Well, they should be safe now. We’ve pushed the demons back into their world. The portal closed behind them. I wish I could blow the damn thing up so they can’t come back. I suppose you’re going to tell me that’s not possible.’
‘No,’ said Tergil. ‘It is not.’
Montrose studied the elf’s ears.
‘I’m guessing you know what you’re talking about,’ she said.
‘Damn right,’ said Malbus.
Montrose stared at the crow with her mouth open. Just as when she’d seen the fairy the previous day, her jaw snapped shut and she blinked furiously.
‘Marvellous,’ she announced.
British Army training, thought Paris. You can’t beat it.
‘Yeah,’ said the inspector. ‘Besides, there’s another reason we can’t blow it up. My sergeant’s been captured and taken through it.’
‘So he’s dead?’ asked Montrose.
‘I don’t think so. If they were going to kill him, they would’ve done it straight away. They must want him for something. God knows what, since most of the time I don’t even want him myself.’
‘I believe,’ said Tergil, ‘it will be to find out how he does magic.’
Paris raised an eyebrow at him. ‘You mean picking up the car? That wasn’t anything he did.’
‘I know. Although the demons do not.’
Paris groaned. Solving the earlier problem had put Bonetti in danger. And it was his fault.
His moan was overtaken by the sound of sirens. Paris peered past Montrose’s shoulder. The ambulances for the wounded had started to turn up, accomp
anied by a lone police van. It drove slowly along the street, picking its way around the rubble.
‘He has arrived,’ said Tergil. The elf turned to face Paris. ‘When your sergeant was taken, I could not help him directly. I could, however, help indirectly. I made a phone call.’
Paris’s eyes narrowed.
‘Is that Grarf in there?’ he asked.
Tergil nodded. ‘I presumed we would need him. I guessed your intentions.’
Paris took a deep breath. The British Army’s ability to deal with unexpected situations was about to be given a very stern test.
He glanced at Montrose, who gave him a puzzled look in return.
‘Who’s Grarf?’ asked the captain. ‘And what are your intentions?’
‘Isn’t it obvious?’ replied Paris. ‘I’ve got to rescue Bonetti. I’m going into the magic world.’
42
The last few days had taught Paris to expect the unexpected. So he’d half expected Grarf to show up at the portal. He’d assumed soldiers would surround the demon if he did so, watching him intently. But Paris had thought it would be out of fear. He’d never for a moment guessed that Grarf would be demonstrating his personal fitness regime.
The inspector scratched his head. He’d spent five frantic minutes convincing Captain Montrose that, when the police van opened its doors, the army shouldn’t start firing. Phrases like “Not all magical creatures are bad” were said, along with “Never judge a book by its cover”. He had to acknowledge the latter had been stated with less than 100 per cent conviction, since Paris knew Grarf was exactly what he looked like. This was a book with “terrifying unstoppable killing machine” written on the front in big red letters, underlined three times. However, this particular tome would be much more useful in the mystic world than any guidebook. Montrose evidently recognised that too. And once the initial shock and horror subsided, the soldiers had taken quite a shine to the enormous brute, just as Bonetti had done. They stood in a circle ten metres away now, with the demon in the centre, flexing his muscles and discussing his special diet. There was obviously something about big, tough fighting men which let them appreciate the prowess of other big, tough fighting men. Paris was acutely aware that, for some strange reason, he didn’t have it.
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