Only Mallory's sword had any effect on the revenants. They shied from the blade's sapphire glow until they could find another path of attack, but they didn't relent. Mallory was forced to move back and forth, defending both himself and Daniels. Beyond, Miller was already down with three of the things forcing their fingers into his mouth; it looked as if they were trying to tear off his jaw. Rigid with fear, his eyes were wide and tear-streaked.
Mallory attempted to get to him, but before he could make contact with any of the attackers something crashed into his waist, knocking him to the ground. The breath was smashed from his lungs, purple flashes bursting behind his eyes as the weight of one or more of the things crushed him down.
When his vision cleared, Miller's mouth was ripped open as wide as it would go; Mallory heard the cracking of his jaw. A cowled, skull-like head hung barely an inch from Miller's lips as if it were ready to kiss him. And then it did press forwards, not kissing, but forcing itself into his mouth.
Mallory at first tried to convince himself it was some bizarre optical illusion — the head was so big, Miller's mouth so small — but somehow the thing's face was disappearing between Miller's teeth. Mallory felt a sickening sense of failure when his friend's terrified eyes flickered towards him, pleading desperately, as if Mallory were the only person who could ever save him.
While Daniels and Gardener fought their own batdes, he could only watch as the revenant rolled on to its back while somehow keeping its head pointing in the same direction. It was eerie and sickening at the same time. And then it gradually melted into Miller's body until it was he, and he it, the features a bizarre hybrid of the two.
At that moment, the other things stopped fighting and quietly retreated to the edges of the ossuary; the dead bones clattered to the floor, their newfound life lost.
Mallory pushed himself to his feet and advanced on Miller with Daniels and Gardener close behind, but the thing and Miller had merged seamlessly.
'It's possessed him.' Gardener's voice was an awed whisper filled with religious dread.
'Why have the others backed off?' Daniels looked around nervously.
'Hear me!' A voice boomed out across the ossuary, so unfeasibly loud and distorted that it took Mallory a while to realise it was coming from Miller's mouth.
'This sacred land has been corrupted,' the voice continued, 'and with each passing day it is corrupted more. When we had life, we raised God's standard on this acre. We built this shining beacon of devotion, and now your actions threaten to tear it down! Our sleep has been broken to warn you… turn back before all is destroyed!'
The echoes died away until the only sound in the ossuary was the guttering of the torch. In the gloom around the edges, Mallory could just make out the other things waiting motionlessly.
He looked from Daniels to Gardener, then stepped forwards. 'Are you warning us about the enemy outside the walls?' he asked.
The force of the reply made him take a step back. 'The enemy within! God's Kingdom is built on purity, not lies and murder!'
He exchanged another glance with Daniels and Gardener. They urged him on. 'What do you want us to do?'
'We will not see all we believed in destroyed. We will not have our eternal rest interrupted. Your actions have dragged us back to this foul place from the Glory of God! We cannot return to the sublime beauty until this perversion has been averted. You must stop this corruption… or we shall exact our vengeance on those who do the Devil's work… eye for eye, tooth for tooth, hand for hand, foot for foot.' The tone brought coldness to all of them. 'Take this warning back with you. Let the perpetrators know… we are watching. Time is running short.'
Mallory asked who the perpetrators were, but this time there was no response. Instead, the hybrid Miller-face grew fluid, then ran like oil. Slowly, the thing that had possessed him rose out of his body. It detached itself foot-from-foot, then drifted past Mallory as if he wasn't there; a faint coldness tingled his skin on the side against which it brushed. The other things followed it in a mute, eerie procession through the far door.
When the last had departed, Mallory and the others started as if waking from a daze. They turned quickly to Miller who was heaving himself into a sitting position, sobbing gently.
'It felt as if I had a rat in my stomach!' he said as Mallory helped him to his feet, keeping one hand on his shoulder for support.
'What's going on here?' Mallory said angrily. 'It's like this one spot is being turned inside out… Things that shouldn't be alive turning up… buildings coming out of nowhere…'
'The Devil's directing all his powers against us,' Gardener muttered. 'He doesn't want us to-'
'Shut up about the Devil!' Mallory snapped. 'Those bastards were talking about something inside the cathedral. The enemy within.''
'The one who killed Cornelius and Julian, of course,' Daniels said.
Before they could debate the matter further, they were disturbed by a blood-chilling howl, part animal, part man, echoing from the tunnel ahead.
'Lord,' Daniels said. 'Hipgrave!'
Mallory snatched up die lamp as they ran into the tunnel with Daniels propelling a disoriented, still gently sobbing Miller. The echoes of screeches and cries were sickening to hear.
The tunnel opened into a vault which the echoes suggested was enormous. The roof was supported at regular intervals by crumbling stone pillars. The floor was hard-packed mud punctuated by large pools of water that had dripped from above. The atmosphere was cold and sodden, but the more eerie thing were the flickering torches intermittently fixed to the pillars.
'Who lit them?' Daniels whispered.
A shiver had run through Mallory when he entered the vault. He glanced back to see a thin blue line crackling along the threshold, the barrier between their world and what lay beyond. He was suddenly caught between conflicting impulses. They were only truly safe on the other side of that line. Yet Hipgrave lay somewhere ahead, perhaps wounded, possibly dying.
'Look!' Miller exclaimed.
Almost lost in the shadows across the vault, there was movement. At first it looked like a man, then a beast on all fours, then an amorphous cloud that gradually developed wings and tentacles and sharp edges before disappearing into the gloom.
'Back,' Mallory said.
'No.' Miller caught at his shirt. 'We can't leave Hipgrave.'
'He's a vindictive little shit. He deserves what he gets.' Mallory didn't meet Miller's eyes.
'We can't judge him. That's what the Bible says — we're not supposed to judge. We're all sinful in one way or another.'
'Speak for yourself.'
Miller let go, backed away. 'No, not you, Mallory,' he said sarcastically. 'But the rest of us.' He looked to where the shape had disappeared. 'Well, I'm going anyway. I have to.'
'Don't,' Mallory ordered. 'You stupid bloody idiot. You won't stand a chance.'
Miller set off across the vault while Daniels and Gardener watched Mallory judgementally. Mallory half-turned towards the tunnel, then cursed under his breath. 'Oh, all right then. But if he's in pieces, you carry them back.'
They caught up with Miller, then progressed slowly back to back, watching for an attack from any direction. Miller suddenly called out, 'Over there!'
They could just make out Hipgrave slumped at the foot of a pillar, unmoving. He was still alive but in a daze, his eyes roaming the darkness; and he didn't even notice they were there. He clutched his ribs, but Mallory could see no sign of a wound.
'Hurry up, let's get him back to the tunnel,' he said.
Hipgrave stirred at the sound of his words and responded in a hoarse, detached voice, 'There are things down here…'he began. 'Not trying to get in… to keep us… from getting out.'
From somewhere, a cold breeze blew. They all looked around but could see nothing apart from the shadows dancing at the behest of the torches. A second later, Gardener pitched forwards, clutching at his forehead. Blood splattered across Hipgrave's face.
'Bloody hellf
ire!' Gardener cursed. He removed his hand to see it was smeared red; a thin line had been traced from temple to temple.
'What was it?' Miller whimpered.
Something moved through the vault, just beneath the arched roof. Mallory saw it only as a fluttering shadow travelling so fast it could easily have been a trick of the torchlight. There must have been another one, for Daniels snapped his head around, puzzled.
'Now can we get out of here?' Mallory said sharply. Just as he turned towards the tunnel, he felt a subtle change in the air currents that signalled the rapid approach of something unseen. He jerked his head to one side. Something tore at his hair and was gone in an instant. As it passed, he heard something, or thought he did, that sounded like a distorted human voice whispering his name.
Daniels crashed across Hipgrave, holding the back of his head. When he rolled over, dazed, Mallory saw a red patch where part of his scalp had been torn away.
Rapid movement broke out in several areas of the vault at once, rushing towards the five of them; the attackers were like giant bats but with otherworldly elements that couldn't be discerned in the half-light.
Mallory swung his sword instinctively, clipping one of the flying creatures. A high-pitched squeal was followed by a rain of liquid and the thud of something hitting the ground.
'Shit!' Daniels exclaimed. 'How did you do that?'
'What can I say — I'm fabulous.' Mallory spun around to strike out at another dark streak, missing it completely. 'But not all the time,' he added.
The death of the bat-creature acted as a spur to the others, which screeched from all directions at once until the air was filled with a flurry of shadows.
Daniels managed to help Hipgrave to his feet, though the flying things tore their flesh with claws and fangs until they were slick with blood. Mallory's frenzied hacking spun him around and the wild activity of the bat-creatures obscured his vision. At one point he realised Miller was near him, desperately trying to fend off the attacks with his inadequate sword- play. As they were driven across the vault, Mallory saw that Daniels and Gardener had dragged Hipgrave into the opposite direction towards the tunnel.
Finally, a wall came into view. Mallory and Miller edged along it, claws tearing through their cloaks and shirts. After a desperate moment they found another tunnel and dived inside.
Mallory had expected to fight a rearguard action all the way, but the moment they left the vault, the bat-creatures dropped back. He didn't question it.
'Come on, they've gone.' He pulled Miller upright; tear stains cut through the blood on his face.
'I can't cope with all this, Mallory,' he said. 'I'm not strong like you.'
'Nobody likes a whinger, Miller. Pull yourself together.' It was said affectionately enough to bring a weak smile to Miller's face.
'Where are the others?'
'They got driven the other way, back the way we came.'
'This isn't the right tunnel?' Miller's voice cracked.
Mallory could see that there was no thin line of blue separating the worlds; they were still on dangerous ground. 'Let's see where it leads us,' he said as emotionlessly as he could manage. He ducked briefly into the vault to pluck a torch from the wall, then led the way ahead.
They continued for fifteen minutes, the tunnel branching at regular intervals until they lost track of the labyrinthine layout.
'Catacombs,' Mallory said to himself. 'We could be down here for ever.'
'We could say a prayer,' Miller ventured.
'Don't be so bloody stupid.' He fiddled with the hilt of his sword, then said reluctantly, 'Oh, go on, if you want to.'
He marched on ahead while Miller muttered behind him. In a little while, they came to a short flight of steps leading up to a doorway with a carved surround depicting the sun, the moon and stars.
'See?' Miller said.
'Coincidence, idiot.' Mallory cautiously climbed the steps. At the top, the doorway opened on to a large domestic room. A log fire roaring in an enormous stone fireplace provided the only source of light. A wooden chair as big as a throne sat before it, while the walls were covered with shelves of books and heavy tapestries. It was so incongruous after the bleak places they had passed through that it brought them up sharp.
'Who lives here?' Miller asked nervously.
Mallory advanced into the chamber cautiously, transferring the torch to his left hand so that he could draw his sword.
'I don't like this,' Miller said. 'We should go back.'
'I thought you prayed for a way out. You can't throw back the gift just because it doesn't meet your expectations.' Mallory knew it was a cheap shot and he resolved not to bait Miller further.
They made their way to the centre of the room, but couldn't see any other way out. 'There,' Miller said. 'We have to go back.'
Mallory had to agree, but there was a soothing atmosphere to the room after the cold and shadows of the tunnels. As they turned to leave, the heavy tramp of footsteps approached. Miller blanched, looked to Mallory. They both glanced towards the doorway, but the sound didn't appear to be coming from that direction.
Disoriented, Mallory looked around in time to see one of the tapestries on the opposite wall being thrust back. A man at least eight feet tall was emerging from another tunnel. At first, Mallory couldn't make out his features — it was as though his eyes were running — but the shape of the frame was undoubtedly that of the killer that had pursued himself and Hipgrave in the tunnels.
Brandishing his sword, Mallory backed away until he realised that Miller was rooted to the spot. 'Come on,' he snapped, but Miller only had eyes for the giant now striding towards them.
As he closed on them, the features became clearer: long hair the colour of coal, a thick beard and black eyes that glowered beneath overhanging brows. He wore a shift made out of something like sackcloth, held tight at the waist by a broad leather belt. A thong bound around his left forearm was fitted with several mysterious hooks, which Mallory guessed had caused the scraping sound he had heard on his previous visit to the tunnels.
'One more step and I'll chop you into hunks,' Mallory said. He didn't know how realistic that threat was. Although the giant wasn't armed, he looked strong enough to have torn apart Cornelius and Julian.
Surprisingly, the giant stopped, though he didn't appear in the least bit frightened by Mallory's threat. 'Ho, Brother of Dragons.' His voice echoed like a slamming door.
'Stay back,' Mallory warned, unnerved that the killer had called him by the same name he had been given in the Court of Peaceful Days.
'Who are you?' Mallory was startled by Miller's small voice at his back.
'I am the Caretaker,' the giant boomed. 'I walk the boundaries of this place of reverence. I watch over the fabric, close some doors, open others. I turn on the lamps of hope in the dark of the night, and extinguish them when dawn's light touches the sky. I keep this place safe from those who would assault it. I keep it safe for all who come here, by whatever route, from whatever place, whether hope or despair rules their hearts. I am their servant.'
'I'm warning you,' Mallory said. He was considering a guerrilla attack to disable the giant with a couple of strikes, before beating a fast retreat.
'Sheathe your sword, Brother of Dragons. You have nothing to fear from me.'
'I don't think he's the killer, Mallory,' Miller whispered.
Mallory wavered. 'I saw you before. You tried to attack me and my friend.'
'I tried to warn you, Brother of Dragons. In these times, this place can be dangerous to your kind.'
There was a cold, almost alien note to the giant's voice that was distinctly unnerving, yet behind it Mallory sensed honesty. He cautiously sheathed his sword.
'Where did you come from?' Miller asked, calmer than at any time since they had ventured into the tunnels. The peaceful atmosphere of the room had increased several notches since the Caretaker had entered.
The Caretaker appeared not to understand the question. 'This is my place,'
he said with a shrug. He motioned towards the fire. 'Sit. Shake the cold from your limbs.' He brought over two stools, then lowered himself into the wooden chair.
Still reeling after all the running and fighting, Mallory and Miller tentatively took their seats, but were thankful for the fire. As they warmed their hands, they kept a cautious eye on the giant. The Caretaker's unwavering gaze made Mallory uncomfortable, yet something about the easy mood the giant radiated made Mallory feel he couldn't have fought even if he had wanted to. Mallory's tension seeped away until he felt he could have slept if he closed his eyes.
'I had not expected to see a Brother of Dragons in this place,' the Caretaker said eventually.
'Somebody else called me that,' Mallory said. 'It must be the sword.' He pulled it a little way out of the sheath so the giant could see the dragons entwining on the hilt. 'It's borrowed.'
The Caretaker smiled as if this was the most ridiculous thing he had heard. 'The sword would not have come to you if you were not a Brother of Dragons,' he said warmly. 'I see it in your heart. The sword only answers that.'
Miller looked at Mallory with widening eyes. 'He's talking as if you're special.'
'I'm not special.' Mallory looked away from him into the fire. Though the logs blazed, they didn't appear to be consumed.
The Caretaker shrugged as if it were of no import and settled back into the chair, staring blankly at the shadows above the mantelpiece. In the soporific atmosphere, they sat in silence while Mallory and Miller tried to put the experience into some kind of context.
It was Miller who found the courage to question the giant first. 'What is this place?' he asked.
The Caretaker appeared to respond to the deference in his voice. 'You are a Fragile Creature,' he began. 'Your world is one of constraints, where things are fixed, immutable. This place is not of your world.'
'So we're someplace else? We've been transported? Like in Star Trek?'
'That's right, Miller. Now ask him if he thought Voyager let down the franchise,' Mallory said tardy. He was still ruminating over what the Caretaker had said about him being a Brother of Dragons: could someone with his past really be some kind of mystical champion without him realising it? When he considered it like that, it was more than laughable, but both Rhiannon and the Caretaker appeared convinced. Just thinking of it made him feel queasy, as if he had no control over his life.
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