The Seventh Star (The King's Watch Book 7)

by Mark Hayden

  The one thing he had some joy with was seeing round the end of the straw corridor. The door was closed, but all the interior lights were on, and he could make out the ends of some serious earthmoving kit. Inappropriate on a farm, but perfect for digging a mine. He heard a mechanical noise start up, and the cattle started making more noise. Who was milking the cows? Someone had clearly been doing it for a while.

  After that, he sat on the floor so that he could have some back support. He was still watching Mina sleeping (it was the only interesting thing to look at) when the barn door slammed open. Tom struggled to his feet, and Mina uncurled like a snake.

  Colleen and Gnome1 were back. Colleen had two McDonald’s carriers which he barely noticed because he was totally focused on the axe. It came up to the Gnome’s chest and had two blades of bright gleaming steel. Cold water ran down his back as little streams of light chased each other across the faces of the blades and down the hafts. If that axe could speak, it would have a vocabulary of three words: submit or die. His arm throbbed where the Mannwolf King had bitten him, and Tom’s respect for Clarke went up several notches. If the man faced this sort of thing on a regular basis, then Tom had two questions: How are you not dead, Conrad, and how are you still sane? Perhaps he wasn’t.

  ‘I hope that is not a beef burger,’ said Mina. Clearly giant axes weren’t a novelty to her.

  ‘Why the feck not?’ said Colleen. ‘They don’t do Halal meat at MaccyDee’s, so like it or lump it.’

  Mina stabbed a finger at the camouflage clad woman. ‘I am a Hindu, and you are ignorant.’

  Gnome1 thought that was hilarious, and the hot flush which spread over Colleen’s face said that the Gnome was laughing at her, not Mina. ‘Can’t do anything right, can you? First you let her use her phone, then you bring her beef,’ he said. The woman looked at the floor, gripping the paper bags like they were stress balls.

  The Gnome looked at Tom. ‘Both of you, lie flat, face down with your arms out.’

  Tom and Mina looked at each other and gave small nods, before taking their time lying down. Colleen’s pink and white trainers came into view, and she placed the bags down quickly. When she’d finished, the Gnome told them to get up. ‘Enjoy your meal,’ he said. ‘Goodnight.’

  Tom examined his bag, and couldn’t help himself. ‘Mmmm. Coffee.’ He grinned. ‘I’m getting a lack of caffeine headache. Do you want my fries? Swap you for the burger?’

  ‘That’s very kind, Tom. I’ll just pass the patties over and eat the bun.’

  As they devoured the food, Mina held up a chip. ‘If anything is going to happen, it will happen after sunset. We have another hour, I think.’

  Tom grunted. ‘I hope we have a lot more hours than that.’

  Tricky little buggers, Gnomes. I had thought we had them bang to rights when we’d found a new, unauthorised spur off the Ley line. And then Chris had made me go a bit further. There were half a dozen of the bloody things, and a lot of them were very close to Manchester Airport’s flight paths. The Controllers at Britain’s second busiest airport were not happy about a helicopter flying in circles so close to the A300s and 737s queueing up to land.

  I had tried telling them that I was a charter for Electricity North West and we were surveying power lines. No chance. Flying is an all-or-nothing business: no permission? Go away. Now. Before we scramble the RAF. I went.

  ‘Sorry, folks,’ I said over the intercom, ‘We’re going to have to do this the hard way. At least we have some starting points. We’ll head back and look at the maps.’

  I landed, and after I’d completed the shutdown checks, I limped back to the Haven and checked my phone. Damn. Five missed calls from the Boss and a message: Call me now or you’ll have no children. Ouch.

  ‘Ma’am?’

  ‘Look up. Can you see the sun?’

  Instinctively, I looked up. She has that effect on me. ‘Yes, ma’am.’

  ‘That’s how deep you are in the shit, Conrad: as deep as the sun is high. Whose lives are you risking on this mad venture, because that’s what you’re doing, aren’t you? You’re going to try a rescue.’

  ‘Only if we can find them. They’re proving a little elusive.’

  ‘That’s probably a good thing. Who have you conscripted into your posse?’

  ‘No conscripts, ma’am. All volunteers. The cream of Clan Flint will be with me. Chris Kelly and Kenver Mowbray are assisting but won’t take part. Oh, and Lucy Berardi is our medic.’

  ‘Chris Kelly! Kenver Mowbray! Are you insane? Yes, clearly you are. Kelly’s a grown man, but if you don’t return little Kenver to the bosom of his family, you will truly know pain. Are we clear?’

  ‘Ma’am. I checked with Eseld first, you know. She thinks her little brother needs to have his eyes opened.’

  I heard her draw breath. ‘May Hashem guide you and keep you, Conrad, and may He bring you and Mina safely home and spare the others.’

  I went to say Thank you, but my phone bleeped with the Call Ended signal. I stuffed it in my pocket and headed back to the Haven. Chris already had the maps out and Lucy was doing something with his laptop. ‘I’ve had an idea,’ he said. ‘Lucy’s getting the Livesat feeds. They’re only twenty-four hours old, and any deflective Glamours will have been in place by then. We’re going to look for anomalies along the line of the spurs.’

  ‘That assumes the Octet won’t have perfectly replicated the original topography.’

  ‘Mines are big,’ said Wesley. ‘At least they are when you’re digging. And our people aren’t nearly as good at large scale Glamours as we sometimes like to think.’

  There was a tense half-hour of ticking off the lists.

  ‘Farmhouse.’

  ‘Check.’

  ‘Farmhouse.’

  ‘Check.’

  ‘Hamlet.’

  ‘Ignore it.’

  ‘Factory.’

  ‘Let me see. No. Ignore it.’

  And finally.

  ‘Farmhouse and quarry.’

  ‘Quarry?’

  ‘Look.’

  Chris peered at the screen. ‘They’ve restored the image of the farmhouse, but that field, there, they’ve missed it. All the topsoil has been removed. That’s got to be it. What do you think, Wes?’

  ‘Arr. Reckon you’re spot on there.’

  I focused on the map and slapped my head. ‘Of course. It’s just north of Jodrell Bank. I didn’t go anywhere near that, for obvious reasons. Air Traffic Control really don’t like craft near our premier radio telescope.’

  Chris looked pleased with himself. ‘I know. That’s why I posited a bridge between these lines.’

  Posit? Never mind, I could look it up later.

  ‘Are we all still on for this?’ A series of grim nods answered my question. ‘Lucy, Chris, Kenver, you’re with me in the Battlebus. Lads, you take Mina’s car. We’ll rendezvous here.’

  Lloyd looked at the map. ‘All the humans together, eh?’

  ‘I’m taking Scout. You know what he’s like.’

  A pained expression came on his face. Scout thinks that Gnomes are a treat. When he sees exposed flesh, he can’t stop licking it. ‘Fair enough. You do realise that there’s two rivers and the West Coast Main Line between that rendezvous point and the target?’

  ‘It’ll be the least defended.’

  I caught Lucy looking at her new trainers. ‘Don’t worry, if we pull this off, Tara Doyle will give you the run of her studio.’

  ‘And if we don’t?’

  ‘I’ll text her now and ask her to supply a pair to the undertaker.’

  She went slightly green and swallowed hard. ‘You’re so thoughtful, Conrad. Now shut up and let’s get going.’

  Things got very interesting at half past six. Tom heard the rustle of Fiona climbing the wall of straw, and seconds later the Irish girl/Mannwolf came round the front of the corridor. She was holding a burner phone. ‘Can you work this?’ she said to Mina.

  Mina’s back stiffened when sh
e saw the phone. ‘If it’s not locked.’

  The girl shoved it at Mina. ‘Try it, then give it here.’

  Mina thumbed the phone. ‘It’s powering up … Searching for a network … found one.’ She calmly offered it back. ‘Yes, I can use it.’

  Had they never seen phones before? The Darkwood Pack were aware of technology, even if they didn’t have much use for it.

  The girl weighed the phone in her hand. ‘We’ll help you if we get immunity.’

  ‘What’s your name?’ said Mina quietly.

  ‘Cara.’

  ‘I cannot give you immunity, Cara. Only the Lord Guardian can do that.’

  ‘Then send him a message. Quickly. And tell him not to call.’

  Mina took the phone and started typing. ‘It’s a good job I know his number,’ she muttered. ‘There: Pack will help in return for immunity. We are unharmed. Reply by message only. Is that acceptable?’

  ‘Do it.’

  Then followed the agonising wait. Seconds dragged by. Cara’s head whipped to face the door when she heard something. There was a ting. ‘Yes,’ said Mina. ‘Immunity and relocation.’

  ‘Tell him it’s Brookford Farm and to follow the seventh star,’ said Cara before she disappeared.

  Mina worked frantically to type as the barn doors rolled back. She was still typing when they closed. In a blur of movement, she threw the phone into the air. A tiny, grubby, pale face reared up at the top of the bales and little fingers caught the phone. Tom’s respect for cricket as a participant sport went up several notches.

  Colleen stepped into the entrance with two folding chairs. She placed one facing them and one to the side. ‘Good evening to you both. Won’t be a tick.’ She disappeared, and when she returned, she had a shotgun in one hand and a machete in the other. She placed the shotgun across the second chair and pointed the machete at Mina. ‘If I hear any noises outside, you’re for the chop, princess, and when I’ve finished slicing you up, your man here gets both barrels. Are we clear?’

  The Ancile. Of course. By putting Mina at the front, the Gnomes had effectively given Tom a shield.

  Mina bent slightly so that she could reach her hair and smooth it. With her back to him like this, her feet in the oversized flip-flops, she could be a teenager herself, like Cara. Her voice was anything but childish though. ‘I understand you,’ she said. ‘But think carefully. If there is a noise, are you sure you know what it means? And if your fellow wives and the pack manage to repel attackers, would it be wise to kill us? So long as we are alive, you are not under a death sentence. As soon as you spill DCI Morton’s blood, you have condemned yourself to death. As soon as you spill my blood, you have condemned yourself to a long and slow death. Let me tell you about the Blood Eagle. Conrad has sworn it on anyone who hurts me.’

  ‘Shut your fecking mouth, you whore!’

  ‘Make me. First, your back is carved open, then your ribs are cracked off…’

  ‘Shut. Up.’

  ‘Very well. When you sit in your comfy chair and you feel the support press into your back, that is where the incisions will be made.’ With that, Mina turned round and sat down. Only Tom could see the big grin on her face.

  ‘What’s she on about? Seventh star?’ said Lloyd. ‘Are you sure it’s her? Get down, you daft dog!’

  I’d received Mina’s text while we were working out how to climb the great fence that protected the main railway line, a line that seemed to have 225kph trains thundering down it every minute. And I wasn’t the only one who received it: Lloyd and Lucy got it, too. Mina’s always been good with numbers.

  I pulled Scout away from trying to lick Lloyd and handed his lead to Lucy. ‘Of course it’s Mina. Brookford Farm is exactly where we’re heading. I have no clue about the other part, though.’ It was still dusk, and the stars of any description wouldn’t be out for a while. ‘What about this fence?’

  It was eight foot tall, had no handholds and spikes on the top.

  ‘We need to get a move on,’ said Lloyd. ‘Let me do it.’

  I waved for him to go ahead, and he used his prosthetic hand and a considerable dose of magick to bend a gap that we could just about crawl through. ‘I’ll jog over and do the other side.’

  If we were seen on the track by a train driver, British Transport Police would be all over us in minutes, so we had to wait until nothing at all was coming, and then we were over the track, through the other fence and only one field away from Brookford Farm.

  The group was bearing up fairly well so far, considering what a motley crew we were. Chris Kelly is a long distance runner, and he could keep going all night and all tomorrow if no one stopped him. Gnomes are not built like that, but a light jog over a couple of fields was nothing to Lloyd and Albie. Kenver is young, and that left Wesley, Lucy and me. At least being the leader, I could set the pace, but Wesley is old in years and very well padded. He brought up the rear with Lucy who was discovering that designer gym gear is no substitute for actual exercise.

  We gathered by a farm gate, and Chris said, ‘I can feel something. Faintly.’

  ‘Me too,’ added Wesley.

  I brought up the binoculars and studied the farm buildings, away across the next pasture. From here, all I could see was a substantial brick farmhouse to the left, and to the right, the back of a cowshed and milking parlour.

  ‘We’ll make for the far end of the cowshed, away from the road,’ I said, and got six blank looks. ‘The big building with the wooden sides and the gap at the top to let the smell out.’

  ‘Right.’

  ‘Gotcha.’

  Lloyd pulled open the gate and we slipped through. I made for the cowshed at a fast jog. And kept going. And going. Until I got to a hedge.

  ‘Fucking hell,’ said Lloyd. ‘It’s getting further away. What the hell?’

  ‘Wow,’ said Chris. ‘That’s a multi-phase displacement. Only the Fae can do that.’

  ‘Bastards,’ said Albie reflexively, like a Roman Catholic crossing himself in a church.

  ‘So how do we undo it?’ said Lloyd.

  ‘We don’t,’ said Chris simply. ‘Unless you know the key, it’s self-enfolding.’

  ‘We do know the key,’ I added. ‘It’s Follow the Seventh Star. Now what under the earth does that mean?’

  ‘Any stars on the farm?’ said Wesley hopefully, trying to use his Sight to scope it out.

  ‘Excuse me,’ said Lucy. ‘Stop pulling, Scout! That plaque thingy in your study, Conrad. Doesn’t it have seven stars on it?’

  Of course. The Badge of my RAF unit, 7 Squadron, has Ursa Major on it – the Plough, the Big Dipper, call it what you want. Seven stars, and the seventh star, Dubhe, circles Polaris at about 30 degrees below due north. So where was it tonight?

  I stared up. The stars were just becoming visible, but not yet the Plough. Not to worry. All I needed was good old Orion, which was there, so …

  ‘That way.’

  ‘Are you mad? That’s back towards the railway line,’ said Lloyd.

  ‘Look,’ said Chris. ‘A convoy on the lane. Three cars.’

  Only he could see them, because only he could see over the hedge.

  ‘Let’s go,’ I said, and struck out in what I hoped was the right direction.

  We were half way across the field when I felt the Wards. Yes! ‘Can anyone disable these?’

  ‘I can,’ said Kenver. ‘Eseld showed me. They’re not very sophisticated. Probably Gnomish.’

  ‘Oy,’ said Lloyd. ‘We’re above ground here, alright? We can Ward underground like you’d never get through.’

  ‘Sorry,’ said Kenver. He took a metal chain from his pocket and started whirling it round his head. Everything went dark for a second, and I started to sweat from the Lux being used. When the light came back, we weren’t facing the railway line, we were ten metres from the corner of the cowshed, and something was going down in the farmyard.

  ‘Brilliant, Kenver,’ I hissed. ‘Quiet everyone.’

  I edge
d to the corner of the building and looked round. Oh shit.

  I quickly made out a barn to the right and a pair of cottages to the left, forming an open ended square with the cowshed and the farmhouse. Two cars had driven in, and something had deflected one of them into the cottage wall. The other one had stopped at the edge of the yard. Black shapes were getting out, and a reception committee was waiting.

  No, make that two reception committees.

  A group of four women were in front of the farmhouse, armed with shotguns and spears. Facing them were a bunch of kids. A bunch of naked kids, to be precise. Two boys and four girls were shouting at the women and pointing at the cars, then they got a good look at the black shapes and started to exchange into wolves.

  ‘What the hell are they?’ I said, pointing to the black forms.

  ‘Nachtkrieger,’ said Lloyd. ‘Night warriors. Fae Knights in psycho mode. Don’t look at their eyes. This is bad.’

  I’d heard of them, of course. Of all the things that lurk in the forest, waiting to drive you mad and drink your blood, the most terrible is the Nachtkrieger, and they’d come for the wolves.

  The six Mannwolves spread out, each facing a Nachtkrieger. Or two. The wolves were outnumbered. At first, the Fae backed off, allowing the wolves to herd them towards the cottages, then they sprang their trap. Three of the black shapes turned on one wolf in a blur of shadows. I didn’t see what they did, but when they broke out of the ring surrounding them, there was one dead wolf and three Nachtkrieger bearing down on the farmhouse.

  Three of the women scattered at their approach and one held her ground, raising her spear to keep them away from the front door. And she kept it raised as one of them slashed her throat and two others hammered on the door.

  ‘This is going to be a massacre,’ said Lloyd. ‘Eight against five, and they’re after Mina. She must be in the farmhouse.’

  I’d already reached that conclusion and had been working on a plan: keyword herd. I backed away from the scene and turned round.

  ‘Who can get round the corner unseen? Not far, just along the cowshed.’