“We did it,” he corrected.
“So we live to fight another day. We don’t give up, right? Right?” She wasn’t going to back down until he agreed, and when he did, she smiled and kissed him gently on the cheek. “Sinatra would be proud of you, boy.” She slipped away, trailing her hand across his shoulders and the back of his neck. It was a simple touch, but it filled him with strength.
The Danann’s involvement in their tragedies had at least helped Ruth begin to come to terms with Witch’s murder of her uncle. The kind of person he had been prevented her absolving him of all guilt, but they were talking. As the fire began to die down, the two of them, together with Laura and Shavi, went in search of more wood while Tom and Church sat watching the glowing embers.
“We were supposed to be some kind of heroes,” Church began disconsolately. “The defenders of humanity, of the world itself. What a laugh! Talk about fooling ourselves. We were so insignificant to the Danann they ran us like mice through a maze. We did all their dirty work for them and we suffered for it. And what did we get in return? Nothing.”
“You’re blinding yourself to your achievements.” Tom rolled a joint and lit it. “The Danann may still help us. They simply need to be won over. If you’d failed to release them by Beltane, everything truly would be lost. The Fomorii would have had no opposition.” He echoed Laura’s words and Church wondered why he was the only one who failed to see anything positive. He began to protest, but Tom silenced him with a hand. “No. This has been a setback, but your victory in freeing the Danann has bought us more time. And the recovery of the talismans was a remarkable thing-something that has never been achieved since the Danann hid them away.”
Church shook his head, unconvinced. “You know the worst thing? We’ve brought about exactly what we were trying to stop. If the Danann are as dangerously unpredictable … as alien … as you described, if they can devastate our lives without a second thought in the way that they did, I’m afraid of what they’re going to do now they’re here.”
In Tom’s silence, Church heard his worst fears confirmed.
“That’s something to tell the grandchildren I’ll probably never have,” he said with a bitter laugh. “I was the man who helped bring about the end of the world.”
A shooting star rocketed breathtakingly across a sky unspoiled by light pollution. Tom followed its arc while taking the smoke deep into his lungs. “When all this began I thought we were without hope,” he began quietly. “You’ll forgive me when I say, but when I looked at all of you I saw failure writ large. But you’ve torn the scales from my eyes. Through hardship you persevered and the Pendragon Spirit has truly awoken in you, in all of you. You carry within you the manifestation of all that is good in humanity, the strength, the true power, perhaps, of the highest force.” He nodded to himself thoughtfully. “We must have faith.”
“Faith, right. I tell you what I’ve got faith in: that I’m going to find out who or what the Danann used to kill Marianne and the others and I’m going to make them pay. And if I had the power within me, I’d make the Danann pay too.”
Tom said nothing.
Church watched the others approaching through the gloom, laughing amongst themselves, despite everything. Slowly, deep within him, he began to feel the stirrings of that affirmation to which Tom had given voice. He was the one who had ruined everything; his weakness; but he could change. It would have been easy to give in to it, but that wasn’t the kind of person he was. Somehow he had to dig down deep, learn from his terrible failure and move on. And hope that redemption lay somewhere in the future.
“What have you done with the Roisin Dubh?” Tom asked.
Church dipped in his pocket and pulled out the rose; it was withered and desiccated. Wrapped around the stem was Marianne’s locket. “We’re living in strange times,” he began. “Look at this-a little girl’s piece of cheap jewellery. And now it’s a thing of wonder.” As he carefully untangled the chain, he explained about the white light that had infused him during his battle with Calatin. “We’ve seen a lot of terrible things, but this … this fills me with hope. I still don’t know what it means, but I know what I’d like it to mean.” He flicked open the locket and glanced at the photo inside. “A time of miracles,” he said under his breath. As his words disappeared in the wind, the rose finally crumbled into dust and was whisked away from his palm.
“Gone,” Tom said.
“But not completely. I can still feel some of its taint inside me. I don’t know what that will mean.”
“The Danann will not heed you while it remains.”
They fell silent for a long minute, and then Tom said, “I think you need to make some explanations to the others.”
“I know. I owe them that, certainly. And I hope I’ll be able to make amends. I’ll tell them later, after we’ve eaten.” He sighed.
“Just a few weeks ago I thought I was incapable of feeling anything again,” he went on, thoughtfully. “Now I could be convinced I’m feeling too much.” He laughed ironically. “In this new Dark Age, it’s easy to think we’ve lost so much-a way of life, technology that works, logic. But is that true? We’ve still got all the things that truly matter. It might sound corny, but maybe the importance of life comes down to just a few simple things-friendship, love, trust, a belief in something better. Faith. And in the face of all this inhumanity, maybe those human things are all we really need.”
Tom laughed, a sound Church couldn’t recall hearing before. “And you call me the hippie.”
Church scanned his face, saw the suffering and the strengths that had overcome it. “It’s not over, you know.”
“I know.”
“You’re right, we’ve done great things. Amazing things. We may not be much to look at, but …” He looked round at the others. “Look at them. I wouldn’t want anybody else by my side. We’re going to fight back. Find some way to make a difference. And we’ll do it, you know?”
“I know.”
“So what do we do now?”
“That,” Tom said, “is a question for tomorrow.”
They stoked up the fire and dined on the last of the sandwiches and crisps they had brought from the van. Later, while the others sat quietly thinking, Laura took the radio Church had bought in Melrose and wandered off, trying to find some music. Not long after she came hurrying back with it.
“You’d better listen to this,” she said. “I went right across the bands trying to find some music that wasn’t from another century. But every station was playing the same recorded message-that there’s about to be some kind of Government statement.”
They put the radio down and huddled round it. Soon after there was a burst of sombre music, and then the clipped, precise tones of a BBC newsreader.
“This is the BBC, calling the country from London. We have a statement from the Prime Minister which will be repeated at intervals of thirty minutes.”
A recording of the Prime Minister rang out, the voice clear, unwavering, drained of any emotion at all. “As of 10 p.m. on May 1, martial law has been declared throughout the United Kingdom. The activities of Parliament have been suspended until further notice. This difficult decision has been taken in the light of the crisis facing the country. I can give no further details at this moment. In the meantime, once the situation has been clarified, official announcements will made through the BBC radio and television channels. In this troubling time, I would urge you all to remain calm. This action has been forced upon us, and it has been adopted reluctantly, but it is for the protection of all. A curfew will be instigated during the hours of darkness. The Government offers the strongest advice to congregate in areas of human habitation. Stay away from open countryside. Avoid lakes and rivers. The National Parks are restricted areas until further notice. Do not venture into any area considered lonely or secluded. Remain in well-lit localities at all times. Do not travel alone. In rural areas our stringent gun laws are being relaxed for the protection of the populace.
&n
bsp; “On a more personal note, I must say I am well aware of the strength of character that lies at the heart of this proud nation. In the days and weeks that lie ahead, we must all reach deep into that well of courage that we have exhibited so many times before in our glorious history. By standing together, we shall prevail.”
There was a brief pause and then the announcer said, “That is all. This is the BBC, calling-“
Laura flicked off the radio. They remained silent for a long moment and then Witch said, “It’s started, then.”
As if in response, a fire erupted magically on the hilltop close by; there was no fuel anyone could see, and though it blazed powerfully, it didn’t seem to scorch the surrounding grass. Then others burst like tiny fireflies on nearby hilltops, spreading out across the land as far as the eye could see.
“The Beltane fires,” Tom said quietly. “The season has turned.”
They stood together looking out at the flickering beacons, feeling lonely and insignificant in the vast chamber of night. The world was no longer their own. The Age of Reason had died, and a new Dark Age had dawned.
about the author
two-time winner of the prestigious British Fantasy Award, Mark Chadbourn has published his epic, imaginative novels in many countries around the world. He grew up in the mining community of the English Midlands, and was the first person in his family to go to university. After studying Economic History at Leeds, he became a successful journalist, writing for several of the UK’s renowned national newspapers as well as contributing to magazines and TV.
When his first short story won Fear magazine’s Best New Author award, he was snapped up by an agent and subsequently published his first novel, Underground, a supernatural thriller set in the coalfields of his youth. Quitting journalism to become a full-time author, he has written stories which have transcended genre boundaries, but is perhaps best known in the fantasy field.
Mark has also forged a parallel career as a screenwriter with many hours of produced work for British television. He is a senior writer for BBC Drama, and is also developing new shows for the UK and US.
An expert on British folklore and mythology, he has held several varied and colourful jobs, including independent record company boss, band manager, production line worker, engineer’s “mate,” and media consultant.
Having traveled extensively around the world, he has now settled in a rambling house in the middle of a forest not far from where he was born.
Table of Contents
world's end
world's end
book one of
the age of misrule
contents
acknowledgments
prologue
chapter one
misty morning, albert bridge
chapter two
different views from the same window
chapter three
on the road
chapter four
the purifying fire
chapter five
where the black dog runs
chapter six
a view into the dark
chapter seven
here be dragons
chapter eight
the light that never goes out
chapter nine
at the heart of the storm
chapter ten
the hunt
chapter eleven
away from the light
chapter twelve
mi vida Inca
chapter thirteen
the hidden path
chapter fourteen
a murder of crows
chapter fifteen
a day as still as heaven
chapter sixteen
the harrowing
chapter seventeen
hanging heads
chapter eighteen
the shark has pretty teeth
chapter nineteen
flight
chapter twenty
revelations
chapter twenty-one
last stand
chapter twenty-two
beltane
about the author
World's End Page 56
