In the very heart of the atrium was a pillar of marble so white it glowed. Mallory felt oddly drawn to it, but as he approached, a disturbing whispering broke out on the edge of his consciousness. He couldn’t quite make out what was being said, but still it unnerved him. He had an impression of strange intelligences, so alien he could barely comprehend what form they might take. Turn away, he told himself, fearing that his own mind would be burned by any further contact; but the pillar pulled him in.
Yet when he came within a foot of it, the subtle whispering faded away and there was only an abiding silence in his head. The marble was hypnotic in its blankness. As he stared at it he began to feel as if he was floating in a world of white with no up or down, no horizon. Peace descended on him.
He didn’t know how long he was like that, but time had certainly passed when he realised he was seeing something in the nothingness. Shapes coalesced like twilight shadows on snow, taking on substance, clarity, depth and eventually context, until he realised with a shock that he was looking at Miller lying on a muddy trail, his dead, glassy eyes staring up at the grey sky.
His cry broke the spell. When he looked around, Rhiannon was standing at his shoulder. ‘I just saw …’
She nodded slowly, her face grave.
The pillar was just white marble again. ‘A hallucination? Or did I see what was really happening back on earth?’
‘The Wish-Post looks into you as you look into it,’ she said. ‘What you saw is the road not travelled. You are thinking about not returning?’
He didn’t answer, but she could see the truth in his face.
‘Your vision showed you the state of Existence if you stay here.’
‘Is it for real?’
She took his hand; her fingers were cool and calming.
‘He was going to die sooner or later anyway,’ he continued, without meeting her eyes.
‘I know what happened to you, Mallory. What you did.’ No accusation marked her face, only pity, and somehow that was worse. He turned away, sick at what had been laid bare.
Her fingers grew tighter, more supportive. ‘As above, so below. As without, so within. The rules of Existence are simple, Mallory, and unyielding. To everything there is an opposite, though it may often remain hidden, and these opposites are continually at war. We choose our sides, make our stand and hope for the best.’
‘How do you know what happened to me?’ Briefly, he thought he might cry.
‘Some of us have the ability to peer into Fragile Creatures. But your essence, Mallory, is so raw that any of us could see. There is a battle raging in your heart, the same battle that sweeps through all Existence. Which side you take is within your control, but you will pay the consequences of your choice.’
‘I don’t know what you’re talking about.’
‘There is no need to lie to me, Mallory.’ Her voice was so gentle that his feelings surged again. He had the sudden, aching desire to put his head in her lap so she could stroke his hair, tell him of good and noble things. ‘Your bitterness and despair consume you. Do not let them.’
‘What do you know?’ he said defensively. He made to break free from her hand, but couldn’t bring himself to do it.
‘Let me show you something else.’ She turned him so he was once again staring into the Wish-Post. He had obviously become attuned to the object for he quickly fell into the swirling whiteness. He dreaded seeing Miller’s dead face again, but this time the snowstorm fell away to show a woman leading a pack of ragtag travellers along a muddy track. It was Sophie Tallent.
‘Why are you showing me this?’ he asked.
‘You know, Mallory.’
As Sophie and her band crested a rise, a dark smudge appeared on the horizon, and though it appeared insubstantial, Mallory knew instantly it was the thing they had faced at Bratton Camp.
‘Now you’re trying to tell me that if I don’t go back, she’ll die too?’ he said acidly. ‘You really do want me out of here.’
‘No.’ Rhiannon pulled him gently away from the pillar; it felt as if white tendrils were withdrawing from his mind. ‘It is important that you are free to weigh what lies within you, and to make your choices accordingly.
Good or bad, the choice is the important thing. But it is also important you have all the information to make your decision.’
Following the flight of a bird, Mallory let his gaze rise up to the crystal roof. The way the sunlight shimmered through the glass brought a tremendously evocative memory of his childhood rushing up from deep within him with such force that it literally took his breath away. He was at his grandparents’ farm just outside Worcester on a sun-drenched summer Sunday morning, with the light forming starbursts through the branches of the trees as they swayed in the breeze. The air was heavy with the fruity farmyard smell and he could still taste the saltiness of the home-cured bacon on his tongue. His parents were back in the house with his little sister, but he’d gone walking with his grandfather. It was one of his favourite pastimes. The old man with the lantern jaw and snowy hair had told vivid country tales with a rich Worcestershire accent, filling Mallory with an appreciation of the seemingly mystical power of nature, of the epic cycles of the seasons and the strangely intelligent actions of the animals and birds that surrounded the farm.
On that morning, they had walked the ancient cart track to the thick wood clustering the hillside where his grandfather had once terrified him by telling him that all the trees had spirits, and they watched him as he passed. In the middle of the track they had come across a chaffinch writhing in the dust and grass seed. It might have been clipped by a car on the road down in the valley or winged by a raptor, but it was undoubtedly dying. The seven-year-old Mallory had been deeply upset by its death throes, more so when his grandfather had told him there was nothing they could do to save it. Yet his grandfather had gently picked up the bird and held it securely, stroking its head with his thumb.
‘Grandpa, you’re getting blood on your shirt,’ Mallory had pointed out. But his grandfather had ignored the needless stain, only whistling soothingly to the bird, still stroking its head until it eventually passed away. When he finally laid it to rest in the shade of a hedgerow, Mallory had been shocked to see deep scratches in the old man’s palms where the bird’s talons had clawed out their fear.
‘Why did you let it hurt you?’ Mallory had asked. ‘It was going to die anyway.’
His grandfather had leaned down until he could look deeply into Mallory’s face, and what Mallory saw in his blue eyes had been strange and mysterious. ‘Every second is as valuable as the one that went before, lad, and we do our best to prove that. We’ve got no other job in this world,’ he had said, smiling, not really caring if Mallory understood or not.
And Mallory hadn’t understood, but there in the Court of Peaceful Days he had the overwhelming yet incomprehensible belief that it was more important than anything else he had ever been told. Desperately, he grasped for the meaning, but it was as elusive as the shimmer of the sunbeams through the glass, and eventually the memory retreated to its hiding place.
‘This place,’ he began, ‘it’s affecting me … making me remember things …’
‘Peace has that effect.’
‘How long before I have to make my decision?’ he said.
‘As long as you require. Time here is not the same as in your land. The breath between seconds can be an uncrossable gulf. Centuries can pass in the blink of an eye.’ She led him out of the atrium into the cool, shady corridor beyond.
‘Then I could stay here for ever and what you showed me might never happen,’ he said desperately.
Her sad smile told him that was not an option.
She left him alone to wander out into the lawned area that ran down to the thick wood surrounding the Court. The sun was pleasantly warm before the full heat of the day set in and the air was vibrant with birdsong. He found a grassy bank next to a stream and lay back with his hands behind his head, watching the clouds drifting
across the blue sky. After a while, he realised it was spoilt: he couldn’t appreciate the tranquillity, for his mind had been made up for him and it was already turning to what lay ahead.
An hour later, he trudged back to the Court with heavy legs. Rhiannon was waiting for him; she already appeared to know what his decision had been.
The kitchens prepared him a meal of bread, cheese and fruit, which he stored in his haversack, and then Rhiannon led him into a large entrance hall he hadn’t seen before. It had stone flags and wooden beams, and appeared home to as many birds and woodland animals as the atrium. In the centre, two blue and green globes hovered in mid-air, seemingly substantial, yet occasionally passing through each other as they spun.
Mallory was surprised how heavy his heart felt. He had been deeply moved after only a few hours in a strange place with a strange woman; it made no sense.
As they approached the large oaken door, it swung open of its own accord, revealing a winding path leading through a white gate before crossing green meadows that stretched to the horizon.
‘Follow that path and it will lead you back to your world,’ Rhiannon said.
He considered asking how this could be, before accepting that the question was as pointless as everything else in his life. Instead, he asked the only question that mattered to him. ‘Would you mind if I came back here? One day?’
‘The Court of Peaceful Days will always be here for you, Mallory. When you’ve walked your road and shed your burden, there will be peace waiting for you.’
The words ‘Goodbye, Mum’ popped into his head and he only just escaped the embarrassment of saying them aloud. Instead, he let his hand close around the dragon handle of his sword for comfort, and then he stepped over the threshold.
‘Dark times lie ahead for you, Mallory,’ Rhiannon said. ‘You will find yourself in a labyrinth of opposing views, with peril on every side. Look to learning to understand the conflict.’
He was about to ask what she meant by this when the door began to swing shut, and Rhiannon appeared to recede backwards across the hall as if the image of her was being refracted through bottle glass. She allowed him a smile and a wave and then the door closed silently.
Mallory walked for an hour along the winding path through the idyllic countryside until he became aware that the weather had grown colder and the landscape was cast in muddy greys, greens and browns instead of the vibrant colours of the start of his journey. The air smelled sourer; every sensation was muted after the heightened perceptions to which he had become accustomed. Yet there had been no sign of passing from there to here; the change had happened in the blink of an eye as if the two lands were merged.
As he skidded down a muddy slope, wondering how far he would have to walk and in which direction he needed to go, he heard voices carried faintly on the wind. He ran towards them until they lay on the other side of a ridge, and then he waited. A moment later, Sophie and the travellers came over the top, just as he had seen them in the Wish-Post.
She caught her breath in surprise, but then looked past him coldly. The others - a band of six, four men and two women - made no secret of their dislike for his uniform. Mallory could see that her first instinct was to ignore him, but she couldn’t contain herself.
‘You’re not going to tell me you being here is a coincidence,’ she said sourly.
‘Is that any way to talk to your rescuer?’ Mallory retorted. He enjoyed manipulating the flash of annoyance on her face.
‘I need your help like I need my eyes burned out,’ she replied, but he noticed she didn’t lead the travellers past him.
‘OK,’ he said, ‘but I was only doing my Good Samaritan bit. You’re lost in the middle of Salisbury Plain with some very unsavoury things on the loose. And they’re possibly very close on your trail.’
‘What makes you think we’re lost?’ a red-headed teenage girl said contemptuously.
‘You’re heading into the heart of the Plain and I don’t think you’d really want to be doing that at this time of day. Not without tents, food and heavy ordnance.’
Sophie looked from Mallory to the sun that he had obviously read. Mallory could tell she was fighting the urge to be confrontational. ‘Perhaps we did make a slight mistake,’ she said. ‘And you would be able to lead us out of here, would you?’
‘If you promise to say thank you.’
‘OK, I’m sorry,’ she snapped. ‘If you’re offering to help us, we’re very grateful. But we’re not Christians and you stand no chance of converting us. So why would you want to help us?’
‘I help everyone,’ Mallory said blithely. He thought for a moment, then added, ‘Except people with very bad body odour. And Chelsea fans. I’ve never forgiven them for David Mellor.’
He marched off a few paces, then realised that no one was following him. Doubt was clear on their faces. A flash of their crippled leader slowly dying in bed mellowed him and he said, ‘I’m offering to get you back to Salisbury, after a short detour to pick up a friend, and I don’t want anything in return. Understood?’
Sophie nodded. She silently reached an agreement with the others and they all set off together.
After they’d gone about half a mile, Mallory realised that Sophie had increased her pace so she was just behind his shoulder; the others trailed a few yards behind. He slowed, and she accepted the unspoken offer.
‘What were you doing there?’ she asked, without looking at him.
‘Waiting for you.’
‘Don’t lie.’
‘I’m not.’
They walked a few more paces in silence before she snapped, ‘Have you lot been spying on us?’
‘By my lot, I presume you mean the Knights Templar. Possibly. Quite frankly, I wouldn’t put anything past some of the people involved.’ She was taken aback by his candidness, and for the first time looked him in the face. He stared back into her eyes, enjoying what he saw there. ‘If you’re up for an unbelievable story, I’ll tell you the truth.’
He proceeded to describe his encounter with Rhiannon, although he left out the nightmare that preceded his journey to that other place. He ended the account with, ‘So, I was in Fairyland,’ and then waited for her laughter.
Instead, she appeared unduly serious. ‘The Celts called it Otherworld,’ she said, ‘or T’ir n’a n’Og, the Land of Always Summer. The place where the dead go.’
‘Well, I’m alive and kicking.’
‘The five who everyone says saved us in the war after the Fall,’ she said, impatient at his jokes, ‘they were supposed to have travelled to T’ir n’a n’Og.’
‘The five,’ he repeated. He’d heard all the stories about the heroes who had fought during the Fall and dismissed most of them as unbelievable, but now they took on a new significance. He wasn’t in any mood to face up to what Rhiannon had told him about following in their footsteps, so he tried to make light of it instead. ‘We’ve come to a right state if I say, “I was in Fairyland,” and you treat me like the sanest man on the planet.’
‘You were really there?’ She looked at him in a different way that he found encouraging. ‘What was it like?’
‘It was …‘He pictured the Court of Peaceful Days and instantly felt a yearning that brought a swell of damp emotion. ‘… heavenly.’
‘I wish I’d seen it,’ she said dreamily.
‘Maybe you will one day.’ He scanned the landscape carefully, trying to recall any landmarks from his vision that might reveal where Miller was. He hoped he would be in time. ‘So what are you doing out here?’
‘We took a trip up to Stonehenge.’ She hugged her arms around her against the cold; she was poorly dressed for the time of year. Mallory took off his cloak and put it around her shoulders in a dismissive way so she didn’t think he was doing anything so lame as being courteous. She attempted to fend it off at first, then relented, pulling it tight. She flashed a nervous glance back at the others, but none of them were paying any attention. ‘Thank you.’
‘
Don’t mention it. It’s not really the time of year for trips, is it?’
‘There’s a problem with the ley. I can sense it … some of the others can, too, the ones who’ve worked on their abilities with the Craft. It’s weakened, almost seems to be dying out, and it was so powerful before. Stonehenge is one of the main nodes of the Fiery Network. So is Avebury, and Saint Michael’s Mount, but Stonehenge was close enough to investigate. We wanted to see if there was any sign of what was causing the problem.’
‘That’s not very smart, indulging yourself like that. You know the risks on the Plain.’
She bristled. ‘Indulgent? The earth is responsible for the wellbeing of the planet - and humanity, for that matter. We’ve taken it upon ourselves to be the guardians of the Fiery Network, as the Celts were, and the ancient people who were custodians of the land before them.’
‘The new Celtic Nation.’ His comment sounded more mocking than he had intended.
‘Exactly,’ she said defiantly. ‘There’s nothing wrong with continuing their traditions. They believed in the interconnectedness of everything, in being supportive of nature and the planet, which is perfectly sensible in my books.’
‘As well as slaughtering anyone who got in their way.’
‘That’s right. So don’t get on my tits.’ She swung the cloak around her with a flourish; her delicate features disappeared into the depths of the cowl.
‘A big, important mission in life. You couldn’t just do stuff for food and beer like everyone else?’
‘I’m not like you, Mallory.’
‘Yes, they broke the mould.’ He spotted a skeletal tree standing alone on a ridge that looked familiar. ‘Let’s try over there,’ he said.
‘What are you looking for?’
Mallory ignored her; it was the place, he was sure of it. He picked up his pace and called Miller’s name, suddenly terrified he was too late. Why does it matter? he thought as he broke into a run. The way things are, he’s going to be dead soon enough anyway. He didn’t want to let it get to him - he didn’t want anything to get to him. But it did. And he knew it in the speed that he was driving himself across the turf, the desperation that made the blood surge through his head, obscuring Sophie’s yells.
The Devil in Green Page 15
