The Man with the Golden Torc sh-1

by Simon R. Green

  She’d arrived on the roof via a shielded teleport spell, let herself in, and worked her way down. She was there to protect Doktor Koenig from outside interference. Not because she understood anything about the implications of the computer–human mind interface, or would have approved of it if she had, but because she believed passionately in the right of people to improve themselves by any means possible and thus help free the world from Drood control.

  Right, Molly said at this point. Computers baffle me. I can just about work my e-mail, and that’s it. Though I do enjoy surfing dodgy porn sites.

  So; we both burst into the doktor’s lab at the same moment, scaring the hell out of the guy, and then stopped short to glare at each other. I knew Molly by reputation, and of course she recognised the golden armour at once. We both struck out at each other with every weapon we had, unleashing energies and forces that would have been immediately fatal to anyone but us. Doktor Koenig cried out hysterically in German and tried to protect his precious equipment with his own body. The whole thing escalated very quickly…and we brought the house down. The Bradbury Building just crumbled and fell apart under the impact of the forces we unleashed, and the whole place collapsed into ruin and rubble. Molly and I came out of it entirely unscathed, of course, but Herr Doktor Koenig was gone, and all his equipment with him. He got blamed for the explosion, but it was still hardly my finest hour. Certain people in my family were very scathing.

  And that was how I first met the wild witch Molly Metcalf.

  The last mission we butted heads on was the case of the Pendragon reborn. It seemed like every precog and medium in the country worth her salt was excitedly reporting the return of the Pendragon: that Arthur had been reincarnated and would soon start to remember who he really was. And so the race was on to find him, with all sides ready to claim him as their own.

  And brainwash the poor sod to their particular cause, Molly interrupted.

  Well, quite, I said.

  Anyway, my family always has the best information, and the Pendragon reborn was quickly identified as one Paul Anderson, a young advertising executive based in Devon. As it turned out, the only Drood agent in that area was still incapacitated after a very unfortunate incident involving one of the local powers, Joan the Wad, so I was sent down to fill in on the grounds that I was the only field agent not currently working in a case. The family couldn’t teleport me there in case such a magic was detected and gave away our interest. So I had to take the train down from London to Devon, and it’s a hell of a long journey.

  The family wouldn’t even spring for a first-class ticket.

  But I got to Paul Anderson first, explained the situation as best I could, showed him my armour to prove I wasn’t crazy, and persuaded him to come back to the Hall with me, for further testing. Just to make sure he was the real deal. (You’d be amazed how many pretenders to the throne turn up every century. And don’t even get me started about the bloody Fisher King.) Paul was actually rather relieved. Apparently he’d been having recurring and very vivid dreams of knights in armour clashing bloodily on heaving battlefields, which was a bit disturbing for a young advertising executive with prospects.

  And then Molly turned up. Yelled for Paul to get the hell away from me, called me a liar and a fascist stooge to my face, and then backed Paul up against the wall of his own living room while she hit him with all her best arguments. I argued my corner just as fiercely, and soon Molly and I were shouting right into each other’s faces. Unfortunately, all we succeeded in doing was confusing the crap out of Paul, who yelled for both of us to get out of his house and his life and never come back. Molly wasn’t used to being out-shouted, so she lashed out at Paul with one of her best resolution spells, forcing his inherited core personality to the surface.

  And that was when it all went to hell in a handcart.

  The spell hit something inside Paul Anderson, expanded out of all control, and blew up the cottage we were standing in. At first I really thought Molly and I had done it again, but when the smoke cleared the three of us were all standing safe and sound in the ruins of the cottage. Me in my armour, Molly inside her protective shield, and Paul Anderson in blackened and tattered clothing but with a whole new look on his face. Molly seized the moment to attack me, determined that the Droods would not control and influence this Pendragon reborn. I fought back, of course, and while the two of us were distracted, the new Pendragon just walked away, into the night.

  The first hint Molly and I got that something had gone terribly wrong was when the forest on the hill behind the cottage exploded. We stopped trying to kill each other and looked around, and for as far as I could see the whole horizon was on fire, as century-old trees burned brightly against the night sky. The flames leapt up high, fierce and malevolent, driven by more than natural forces. Molly and I agreed to a very temporary truce and went up the hill to see what the hell was going on. I’ll never forget my first sight of the man who had been Paul Anderson, transformed and transfigured, standing laughing in the flames, untouched by the terrible heat, chanting ancient and awful spells in a forgotten tongue.

  Turned out the precogs and mediums had only got it half right, as usual. Paul Anderson was a Pendragon reborn, all right, but not Arthur. Paul was Mordred, son of Arthur, back again to spread his malice in the world.

  Molly and I approached him cautiously. We both knew who he was, who he had to be. I was already thinking seriously about calling in reinforcements. If Mordred had come into his full power, he was way out of my league. Fortunately, Molly’s spell had brought him back prematurely, and he was still pretty confused. Or he’d never have launched such a basic attack spell at my armour. The armour reflected the spell right back at him and blew his as yet unprotected human form to pieces. Nothing left of him but bloody gobbets, spread over a wide area.

  Molly disappeared while I was organising a force to deal with the forest fire.

  And the family were really scathing about this one.

  That was pretty much the pattern, down the years. Molly and I would show up to claim some important person or prize, always on different sides of every argument, more than ready to kill each other to prevent the other from getting away with the prize or the person. Sometimes I won, sometimes she did, but I’d say honours were about even, on the whole. I can’t say I ever really hated her, and I was relieved to discover she felt the same way. It was only ever business for both of us; just the job, nothing personal. Except in a strange way I guess it became personal. There’s nothing like repeatedly trying to kill someone to really get to know them, and admire them. To appreciate their qualities.

  "How many people have you killed, Eddie?" Molly said finally, hugging her knees to her chest.

  I shrugged. The question didn’t make me feel uncomfortable, as such. It just wasn’t anything I ever thought about. "I stopped counting years ago. You?"

  "Surprisingly few, all things considered. It’s a big thing to kill someone. You don’t just kill who they are, but everyone they might have become, and everything they might have done."

  "Sometimes that’s the point," I said. It was important to me that she understood. That I was an agent, not an assassin. "I like to think I’ve only ever killed in self-defence, or to protect the world. To prevent future suffering or killing. But in the end…my job was just to do whatever my family told me to do. And I did, because I trusted them. If they told me someone needed killing, I always assumed they must have a good reason. In my defence, I would say that mostly they were right, and obviously so. I have killed some really evil bastards, in my time. I could give you names…"

  "I probably already know them," said Molly. "You have quite a reputation, Eddie."

  "Yes. I was proud of it, once. But not just as a killer, I hope?"

  "Well…mostly. You never were the subtlest of agents, Eddie."

  "Lot you know," I said airily. "Most of the jobs I did, I was in and out and never left a trace. That’s the mark of a good agent: to get the job done, and
no one ever knows you were there."

  "If you say so," said Molly, smiling. "But…did you never question any of your orders? Any of your assignments?"

  "Why should I? They were my family. We were all raised to fight the good fight, to protect the world, to see ourselves as heroes in the greatest game of all. Family was the one thing you could depend on, in an untrustworthy world. So I killed the people they told me to. And if sometimes I wasn’t happy about what I did…I learned to live with it."

  "That’s why you live alone," said Molly. "Apart from family, who could hope to understand the things we do?"

  We sat quietly for a while, listening to Enya sing on the portable CD player. From outside came the low murmur of the wind, the sounds of the water and the wharf, and the distant rumble of city traffic. A whole world going on, just as always, not knowing that everything had changed. But that…was for tomorrow. I could feel my body slowly relaxing, winding down from a day I thought would never end.

  "So," Molly said finally. "What do we do next? What can we do next?"

  "I don’t know," I said honestly. "I’ve learned a lot I didn’t know, but not the one thing I needed to know. Why my family threw me to the wolves. Why I’ve been declared rogue from a family I served faithfully all my life. Why my own grandmother is so determined to see me dead. I must have done something, but I’m damned if I know what. I mean, I know now why my family have hung on to power for so long. I know what the Drood family business really is. But it’s not like I knew or even suspected any of this before today."

  "Have you considered contacting other members of your family who’ve gone rogue?" Molly said suddenly. "Would you like to? I mean, if nothing else, they should be able to give you some solid hints on how to hide from your family, how to survive on your own, out in the world."

  I thought about that. I still had a definite distaste for the word rogue, even though I was one now. There had always been rogues, throughout family history. Certain individuals who threw off family authority and ran away into the world. Or had been driven out, for good reason. Their names were struck from the family genealogy, and no one was permitted to mention them, ever again. Even now, back in the Hall, someone was removing all traces of my existence, and everyone who ever knew me would be instructed never to use my name again. Even my uncle Jack and my uncle James would go along. For the family. Rogues were worse than treacherous; they were an embarrassment. And so they spent their lives hiding in deep cover, to avoid being hunted down and killed.

  "The only rogue I’ve ever known," I said slowly, "was the Bloody Man, Arnold Drood. Evil little shit. You know what he did? With the children? I can’t believe how he was able to hide it for so long…Anyway, the family told me what he’d done and where he was hiding, and I went straight there and killed him." A horrid thought struck me, and I looked anxiously at Molly. "They told me…but was it really true? Did I kill an innocent man?"

  "No," Molly said quickly, patting me comfortingly on the arm. "Relax, Eddie. He really did do all the awful things everyone said he did. Your family weren’t the only ones on the Bloody Man’s trail. But only one of you could get to him despite his armour." She considered me thoughtfully for a moment. "How did you manage to kill him, Eddie?"

  "Easy," I said. "I cheated. Let’s change the subject. Given that I’ve been such a good soldier for so long, will any of the other rogues agree to talk to me?"

  "They’ll talk to me," said Molly. "I’ve had dealings with some of them, in my time. Don’t look so shocked, Eddie. You’re out in the real world now, and we do things differently here. Alliances come and go, and we all deal with whomever we have to, to get things done. I don’t have a family to back me up, so I made my own, out of the few people I really trust. I know people everywhere. Also, I know people who know people. In fact, I know of three Drood rogues living in and around London. If I vouch for you, they’ll agree to a meeting. Probably."

  "I don’t care about just surviving," I said. "I won’t hide in a hole and pull it in after me, like the other rogues. I need to bring my family down, all the way down, for what they’ve done. For not being what they said they were. But…there has to be someone around strong enough to stop Manifest Destiny. Bad as my family are, those bastards are worse. And you can bet all the damage we did to them today won’t even slow them down. They’re big and they’re organised and they’re rotten to the core. If I do break the Droods’ hold on the world…who would be left strong enough to stop Truman from doing all the awful things he plans to do to everyone who’s not Manifest Destiny?"

  "There is one obvious answer," Molly said. "Set them both at each other’s throats."

  "No," I said immediately. "I won’t be responsible for starting a war. Too many innocents would die, caught in the cross fire. And not everyone in my family is dirty. Some of them are good people, fighting the good fight not out of family duty but just because they believe it’s the right thing to do."

  "If you say so," said Molly.

  It was my turn to consider her thoughtfully. "I couldn’t help noticing, Molly, that you’ve been very…reticent today. Holding back, as it were. None of your usual wild magics in any of our battles. In fact, you’ve let me do most of the hard work."

  She grinned. "I was wondering when you’d notice. I’ve been watching you in action, Eddie. Seeing what you can do. Trying to get a handle on who you really are. I’ve hated and fought the Droods most of my life, and with good reason. They killed my parents when I was just a child."

  "I’m sorry," I said. "I didn’t know."

  "I never found out why. Droods aren’t big on explaining their actions. That’s how Truman was able to snare me so easily…But you were always different, Eddie. I’ve fought a dozen different Drood agents in my time, but you…you were the only one who ever fought clean. You’ve always…intrigued me, Eddie."

  "I love it when a woman talks dirty," I said.

  We were leaning towards each other when the barge’s proximity alarm went off, a silent crimson light that filled the cabin. I gestured urgently for Molly to be quiet and rose quickly to turn off the CD player. Outside, the wind was howling with a voice not all its own. I turned off the crimson warning light with a sharp gesture and dropped down beside Molly again. I put my mouth right next to her ear.

  "Don’t move, don’t speak, don’t do anything. Something’s out there. And my security alarms wouldn’t flare up like that unless there was something really nasty in the vicinity."

  "Looking for us?" said Molly, barely breathing the words.

  "Seems likely. But it’s not my family. That would set off an entirely different alarm."

  "You got any weapons on this boat?"

  "No. And no defences either. That’s the point of this place; nothing to attract any attention. It’s supposed to be right off the map. Nothing for any enemy to detect."

  We listened to the wind raging. The cabin was rising and falling jerkily now, as the waters were disturbed. The temperature dropped sharply. My breath steamed on the air, mixing with Molly’s.

  "What do you think it is?" Molly whispered.

  "Could be any number of really bad things. I’ve made some serious enemies in my time. Probably think I’m vulnerable, now my family’s disowned me."

  "But you’ve got your armour, and I’ve got my spells…"

  "No. If we give away our position we’ll have to go on the run again. And I’m running out of safe places to hide. Keep your head down and stay close to me. Just being this close to my torc should hide you too."

  We sat silently together as the barge shook and shuddered and the wind howled like a living thing. One by one the storm lamps guttered and went out so that a darkening gloom filled the cabin, as though there was something close that could not abide light and warmth. I could feel the presence of something horribly other drawing inexorably closer, something fierce and foul, like a thorn in my soul. I was shivering now, and so was Molly, and not just from the bitter cold that penetrated the cabin. Something was
looking for us, something dangerous to our bodies and our souls, and it was perilously close. I took Molly in my arms, and she held me tightly. Whether I held her to bring her closer to the torc, or just out of a desperate need for human contact, I couldn’t say.

  I could have armoured up. I was pretty sure my armour would protect me from whatever was outside. But using such a strong magic would have given away my position immediately. And Molly would have been left unprotected.

  The presence outside finally moved on, and the night went back to normal. The wind fell away to murmurs, and the barge stopped rocking as the waters stilled. The storm lamps popped back on, one by one, and light and warmth slowly filled the cabin again. Molly started to pull away from me, and I immediately let go of her. She shook her head slowly, and then stretched theatrically.

  "God, I’m tired. Don’t get any ideas, Eddie. We’re allies on this case, nothing more."

  "Of course," I said. "I need to get some sleep. Would you like me to fix some hot chocolate before we turn in?"

  "Hot chocolate sounds very good," she said. "But where, exactly, are we turning in? How many beds do you have here?"

  "Just the one," I said. "In the bedroom at the far end. You can crash there, and I’ll put some blankets on the floor here."

  "My perfect gentle knight," said Molly, smiling.

  I made two mugs of steaming hot chocolate in the tiny galley, and we sat together and talked about nothing in particular for a while. Just winding down, from a long, hard day. Finally we both started yawning, Molly’s eyelids drooped heavily, and she went to sleep right there on the couch. I rescued the mug from her slowly relaxing fingers and put it to one side. The sleeping draught I’d put in her mug had worked fine, disguised by the heavy taste of the chocolate. It wasn’t that I entirely mistrusted her, but we had tried to kill each other too many times, and I needed to feel safe while I slept.

  I picked Molly up and carried her into the small enclosed bedroom at the far end of the barge. I laid her out carefully on the bed and undid a few buttons at her throat. She moved slowly in her sleep, murmuring like a dreaming child. I started to sort out a few spare blankets to sleep on, but I was just too tired. And the bed was plenty big enough for two. I stretched out beside her. Molly was already snoring gently. No doubt she’d have a few harsh words to say when she woke up in the morning…but that could wait.