by Mark Hayden
The Volvo convoy turned off the Motorway and wound through narrow lanes hiding big houses until we came to the hamlet of Little Barrow. As you might expect, there is also a Great Barrow further along; I shall take Scout there later and check out the pub. Middlebarrow is in the middle.
Unlike many magickal properties, the house isn’t Occluded at all. It even has a public footpath running next to it. Having said that, there are many Wards round the house itself. From the road, there is the usual screen of trees behind a stone wall, and then the wall is interrupted by a deep semi-circular driveway and your eye is drawn to the chocolate-box thatched cottage bearing the sign Middlebarrow Lodge. We’d been told to stop here first.
The turn-in was big enough for both cars to pull up, and Vicky had messaged ahead to say we were nearby. A curtain twitched in the lodge and a woman came out to meet me. She was in her mid to late forties, with shoulder length blonde hair and a thoroughly Cheshire combination of red checked shirt and jeans with a green gilet. She took a look at me and then her attention was diverted by a curious Scout. From inside the cottage, I heard another dog protesting that its territory was being invaded. Scout bared his fangs and took a step back.
‘He and Benji can smell each other,’ said the woman. ‘Don’t worry, the door’s locked. Welcome to Middlebarrow, Deputy Constable. I’m the warden, Saskia Mason.’
‘How’d you do. It’s Conrad, please.’
She had an open face and an earthy voice. So far, so good.
While Mina and Vicky got out of the car, she said, ‘You’re the biggest news up here in years, Conrad. We thought Constable Rothman was trying to abolish the residency requirement so she could have a deputy down south.’
‘It’s a pleasure to be here,’ I said with a smile.
She smiled back, rather grimly. ‘But not such a pleasure that you’re going to be here full time.’
‘I’ll just have to work twice as hard, then, won’t I?’
I introduced the girls, and after handshakes, Saskia said, ‘Piers has come up to welcome you all. He’s waiting at the grove with Evie, who’s doing a light lunch for everyone.’
‘Evie?’ said Mina.
‘Evie Mason. Housekeeper and my older daughter. My younger daughter is at Salomon’s House. I told her not to say anything to Sofía until after I’d met you, Conrad.’ She smiled. ‘The world of magick is truly a small one.’
‘Indeed.’
‘Just follow the road until it forks and leave your cars there because you can’t get through the Wards yet. Follow the left fork and the signposts to the SSSI.’
Vicky said, ‘Is that a scientific thingy?’
‘Site of Special Scientific Interest. Also known as Nimue’s Grove, but not in public.’
I thanked the warden and got back in the Volvo.
The drive was a short one, round a couple of bends and then a grassy parking area with room for about six cars. To the right was a high hedge with a gate. No warnings or signs saying Private Property, just a post box with the label Middlebarrow Haven. We parked up and sorted ourselves out.
The path to the SSSI rose over the crest of a slight hill then descended gradually to a copse surrounded by a wire fence, and this time there was a warning:
Middlebarrow SSSI.
No Public Access.
For Research Access,
Please Contact the Lodge
There was also the second welcome party, in the shape of Piers Wetherill, oldest and longest serving Watch Captain, and Evie Mason.
Officially, Piers’s patch is the Marches, the counties that border Wales, but in the absence of a Deputy Constable, he’s also had to cover the Palatinate, the area from Cheshire up to Lakeland. Hannah said he’d sent her roses when she told him I was taking up the job. Actual roses, not virtual ones. They had been waiting for her at home after work, delivered by a local florist.
Evie Mason was a younger, larger and less polished version of her mother, with wellingtons instead of loafers and a hoodie instead of a gilet. She was frowning at something, hard to say what because her eyes were on the horizon. She looked like she frowns a lot.
As well as being the oldest, Piers is also the shortest of the male Watch Captains. He’s got a sharp, foxy face and lots of wisps of white hair. He was wearing an old red fleece, jeans and walking boots. It was only when you tried to see his deep-set eyes that you realised how alert he was. We’ve met before, but only briefly, and he smiled with warmth when we all shook hands. Evie’s face changed at that point, and she looked genuinely pleased to meet us, especially Scout. As he got an extra scratch behind the ears, the feeling was mutual.
‘Well, you’re here at last,’ said Piers. He flicked a metal disk in Vicky’s direction, like he was tossing a coin. She caught it and nearly dropped it when the magick hit her. ‘If you could leave that behind when you go back to London, I’d be grateful.’
‘Nice to meet you all,’ said Evie. ‘If you’ll excuse me, I’ll go and get the food ready.’
When she’d gone, Piers opened a gate into the wood and held out his hand. ‘All yours, Conrad. You’ll find her in there.’
Her. The Nymph, Nimue, the closest thing that Albion has to a guardian spirit. And I had to find her without making a fool of myself. I pulled my lip and thought about the lie of the land, the slope and the behaviour of groundwater and Ley lines. Sod that.
I took out my gun, the Hammer, and contemplated the image of Caledfwlch (aka Excalibur) stamped into the butt which serves as my Badge of office. I rubbed my hand on the grass and picked up some moisture on my fingers from last night’s dew. Nymphs are creatures of water, and you don’t get fresher than dew. I worked the droplets down to my fingers and touched them to the Badge, closing my eyes and thinking hot thoughts. Literally, thoughts of warmth. It’s my way of concentrating Lux. Magick flared in the badge and I got a whiff of spring meadows.
‘Scout! Here boy.’ I held my fingers down to his nose. ‘Find the Nymph! Find Nimue!’
It was a high risk strategy. If he couldn’t smell anything distinctive, he’d just sit there wagging his tail and wondering what the fuss was all about. And I’d look a right numpty. He gave my fingers a good sniff, and a lick.
‘Arff!’
And he was off, into the wood.
‘Novel,’ said Piers.
‘I use what I can,’ I replied. ‘Saves getting out my dowsing rod.’ A distressed whine was followed by barking. ‘This way, I think.’
‘You could just have followed the path,’ said Mina. ‘Piers was showing you the way.’
Vicky chortled. ‘Where’s the fun in that? Wait till I tell Myfanwy what he did.’
Oops. Mina was right. I’d been so focused on the magickal/geological challenge, I hadn’t noticed a fairly clear path through the trees. I set off with as much dignity as I could muster, which wasn’t a lot. Behind me, I could hear Piers talking to Vicky.
‘No wonder Hannah made you his minder.’
‘You don’t know the half of it,’ replied Vicky with some feeling. At least her response was ambiguous. I lengthened my stride.
Scout was at the edge of a small clearing, keeping a safe doggy distance from the damp patch in the middle. Perhaps Hannah had first come here in the winter when she did a short stint as Deputy. Very short, and I don’t think she spent more than one night at Middlebarrow before heading back to London.
It had been a dry summer. Mostly. The water table hasn’t risen enough yet, so that damp patch was Nimue’s spring.
I took out the case with the Deputy’s Badge in it and clipped Scout on to the lead. I handed him to Mina, took off my coat and said, ‘You’d better keep your distance. She can be unpredictable.’
I’d last met Nimue deep underground at Draxholt in Yorkshire, and you don’t go looking for her if you can help it. I knelt down and touched the Badge with my left hand before placing my right hand on the sodden grass.
There was a flash of Lux across my chest as something went up one arm a
nd down the other. I jerked both hands away and fell backwards on to the ground. Water trickled out of the spring, then burbled into a proper flow before turning into a vertical jet, like a hidden fountain. When the jet subsided, it took the familiar form of a naked woman, made wholly of water. Think of an animated ice sculpture – you can really only see her at the edges, where the light gets bent. You can definitely feel her presence, though. Behind me, I heard Scout whimper and Mina say something in Gujarati.
‘Well met, Captain,’ said Nimue. ‘How fares the realm?’
Her voice changes all the time. Today, it was as clear as the sound of a girl singing on a frosty night. Clear and sharp.
I rose to one knee. ‘Troubled, my lady. As ever.’
Nimue pointed to the Badge, and water dripped from her fingers as they formed and re-formed. ‘I have been waiting a long time for this to be brought here. I am in need of a new priest.’
That did not sound good. Nimue is not always the full shilling, and it’s hard to tell whether she knows what she’s talking about sometimes. ‘Priest, my lady?’
‘Priest of the Dyfrdwy Altar and Lord Guardian of the North. You, I presume.’
‘My lady.’
‘Then give me your left arm.’
‘My lady?’
‘Well, we both must drink this time,’ she said, as if I should know what she’s talking about.
With nervous fingers and a mounting sense of unease, I unfastened the button on my left cuff and slid up my shirt. I held out my arm, and Nimue lowered herself to an approximation of kneeling, but without the knees or the lower legs. She just sort of sprouted from the ground in mid-thigh. This close, I could see that she was anatomically correct in all details.
She touched my arm, caressing it with her hands. Water immediately ran down and dripped off my elbow. She lowered her face and two points of white formed in her mouth: teeth of ice. Before I could register that properly, she plunged her face into my arm and bit me.
My arm went cold, and I barely felt the puncture. I could see it, though, and blood flowed into her watery face and then all through her. In seconds, she was turning a palest pink as my blood gave definition to her shape. I started to sway, and still she drank.
I heard a distant whining behind me and some shouting. I wasn’t that bothered, because I was going very cold, and all I wanted to do was lie down. A good sleep would sort me out. That was what I needed. A good sleep.
I closed my eyes, and an icy drench hit me in the chest. I gasped, and cold water flooded into my mouth and up my nose. I opened my eyes, but all I could see was red mist. Reflexively, the shock made me try to breathe, and a sharp pain flooded my lungs, like I’d taken a breath of fire and lava was spreading through my veins. My eyes bulged and I strained to scream, and then the red mist went black.
6 — A Vision of Loveliness
We walked by a happy stream, in dappled sunlight beneath the spring boughs. She was still naked, but now with silver skin that glinted when the sun hit her. For the first time, she had feet, with shapely toes that skimmed the ground.
‘It was once all like this,’ said Nimue.
I knew her name as soon as I heard her voice, and I knew that we were sharing something intimate. A shared vision of some sort.
It became more real, and I could feel twigs and grass under my feet. Naked feet. I looked down. Yes, all of me was naked. Fair’s fair, I suppose. I wasn’t going to get a vision of a naked Nymph without having to play by the same rules, was I?
I leaned back slightly so that I could see my left leg. Aah. Oh dear.
Instead of a great puckered scar, the whole of my lower leg had gone silver. Like a statue. But I’d been walking normally. Eh? I tried to wiggle my toes, and they wiggled back.
I looked up, and Nimue was giving me an amused smile. ‘I wonder where you got that from?’ she said. ‘No wonder your blood tasted strange. No matter. You’re here now. Thank you for the gift of life.’
‘I’d like to say that it was a pleasure.’
She touched my arm and ran her fingers up it, brushing back the hairs with a feathery caress. ‘Such a shame you are bound to the princess.’
A horrible thought struck me. She didn’t mean Princess Birkdale, did she?
‘Mina,’ I said.
She ran her fingers back down my arm. ‘Who did you think I meant? Most priests of the Dyfrdwy Altar are single, and we celebrate by coupling. We still could, if you wish.’
‘I’m sure you didn’t celebrate like that with Hannah.’
She took her hand off my arm. ‘Wouldn’t you like to know. Come on, we haven’t got long. Well, you haven’t anyway.’
She walked off through the trees, and I followed. Without limping. Definitely a vision.
‘Haven’t got long before I wake up?’ I said.
‘Oh, no. Before you die,’ she said over her shoulder. ‘Here we are.’
The trees gave way to a lake, a perfect mirror of water, disturbed only by a few ripples where the stream joined it. It was big, as big as Grasmere at least, with trees all the way down to the waterline and no great hills beyond. We were cut off from the world here, a little slice of sylvan heaven. I walked up to the shore and out into the sun. It warmed my bones, and even the muddy bank was soothing. I stared around and my jaw dropped when I saw something pad out of the woods opposite.
I’ve seen plenty of deer. I’ve flown a helicopter over a herd of Elk in Norway and stroked the nose of a moose in Canada, but never have I seen anything like that. It was huge, much bigger than a horse and had antlers the size of coat racks.
‘Drink,’ said Nimue. ‘It will bind you to me and me to you.’
I got down on my knees by the water and scooped it up in two hands. Just before I drank, I got that hint of flowers. It was cool and clear and fresh and ran down my throat like the finest single malt Scotch whisky, warming on the way.
I felt her hand on my shoulder. ‘Go well, Conrad. I hope that they can save you. I would be sorry if our acquaintance were so brief.’
‘Not half as sorry as me, my lady.’
She gave me a squeeze as the water of Dyfrdwy spread its magick through my body, relaxing and tickling at the same time. When it reached my head, I pitched forward and landed in the water.
I woke up in the ambulance, struggling to get a breath. No matter how hard I tried, I couldn’t stop the ache in my chest and the struggle to get air inside me.
There were voices, screaming. I shook from side to side and tried to sit up. There were hands pressing me down. And pain. Lots more pain. Would you like some? I’ve got pain to spare, shooting all over me. Everywhere. Then the cold, biting deep inside me. I didn’t know my liver could get cold, or that I could even feel my own liver. Why am I burning when I’m so cold? And why can’t I scream?
And darkness. That’s nice. I’ll have some more of that.
Shiver. Shiver, shiver, shiver. And shake. Shake, roll and rattle my teeth. Shiver, shiver.
‘Conrad?’
‘Mnnhhh grrrrrr.’
‘Conrad. I’m here. Don’t try to speak.’
‘Mnnh.’
Shiver, shiver. Why can’t I move?
‘Shh. I’ve got you. Don’t fight it. You’ve been restrained.’
I couldn’t stop jerking my wrists. I was cold. So bloody damned cold. And itchy. Cold and itchy. No matter how much willpower I put into it, I couldn’t stop my hands, my arms, my legs all twitching and jerking, and why did my insides ache? And somewhere down there, my arse was very sore. All I could see was a dim light overhead. Dim, but bright enough to hurt my eyes. I closed them.
‘Conrad! If you can hear me, give me a thumbs-up.’
I could just about manage that. I squeezed my fingers into a fist and stuck out my thumb. My whole hand was still shaking, but at least Mina knew I was still in here somewhere.
‘Good. I’m going to get someone.’
I let go of the thumbs-up and carried on twitching and freezing. It didn’t tak
e long for a male south Asian voice to start speaking. I twisted my head, opened my eyes, and a youngish doctor was standing by my bed, too close for me to see more than the dangling end of his stethoscope.
‘Mnnh,’ I said.
‘Mr Clarke, I’m going to hold your head so that I can take your temperature.’ He didn’t wait, he just grabbed my head in one hand and shoved a thermometer in my ear with another. He held me still for a minute, then grunted. ‘Good. You’re not going to die just yet, Mr Clarke. I think it’s safe to give you a little sedative now.’
He let go of my head and I heard him say something to Mina in Hindi. It had something of a challenge in it, because Mina’s reply was very curt. And then it went quiet again. And dark.
I hurt a lot the next time I surfaced, and I took this as a positive development. When I woke up after having my leg rebuilt, I felt on top of the world, and that’s a sure sign that you’re so doped up the pain would be immense otherwise, and that you’re going to have to come off the meds sooner or later.
Once I’d had that comforting thought, the actual pain took over and I was tempted to ask for the hard stuff, only I couldn’t speak. Not with a mouth full of wombat droppings. I risked turning my head. Ow. That hurt, but it worked, and I could see a drip going into my left arm. I turned right and tried to lift my arm. That worked, too, so the restraints had gone. I looked away from the bed, and there was Mina.
She was fast asleep, curled up in a patient’s chair with her trainers on the floor and my Barbour covering her. I couldn’t do that: it’s those bloody chairs. Only someone as small as her could be comfortable in one.
I rolled slightly to the right to check for water on the nightstand. No such luck. There was, however, a call button, which I pressed after some fumbling. I looked round the room and realised first that it was still night-time, and then that I was in a room of four high-dependency beds, so not the ICU. Even more encouraging.
