by Tim Flanagan
The door swung behind him. The sprung hinge pulled the door back into its frame with a dull thud.
Everyone stood absolutely still, waiting to see if anyone had heard.
The muttering inside the Council Room immediately stopped. The crack of light coming from the gap between the doors was broken by a shadow.
One of the doors opened, throwing the orange glow from a flickering candle flame into the corridor. A guard stepped out and turned towards the door that had been the cause of the noise.
For a moment he stared confused at the rows of faces looking back at him. He then noticed the guns and pick axes in the hands of hostile but scared survivors. One of the survivors on the opposite side of the corridor to Tracker raised his spade up ready to strike the guard who, in an instant, dropped the candle grabbed his gun and shot the man in the chest.
The noise from the shot ricocheted off the walls making Tracker's ears temporarily ring, preventing him from hearing the sound of the spade skidding across the tiled floor towards his feet. As the guard leapt back to the double doors he turned the muzzle of his gun towards another survivor. Tracker squeezed his finger, firing a single shot that split the wood of the door at the same time as opening up a hole in the guard's chest. He fell backwards against the door frame then slid lifelessly to the ground. Whilst they were trapped and unprotected inside the corridor, Tracker knew they were vulnerable.
To his left he saw a door. Quickly he twisted the handle and looked into a small room that had a glass door on the opposite side that led out to the garden they had been in the night before.
The corridor was erupting into chaos. Survivors were trying to shelter behind anything they could find. Inside the Council Room desperate voices shouted from within. An antique bookshelf came crashing down across the double door entrance to the Council Room. More shots began to erupt in bursts of smoke and flashes of light from behind the book shelf and into the corridor.
Tracker dashed through the door he had opened and entered the room.
‘If we can get outside we can enter the Council Room from behind,' Tracker shouted to Steven. 'Their focus will be on the corridor.’
In three strides they had crossed the room and were standing at the external door. In the rapidly darkening sky the black silhouettes of the creatures swarmed together in clouds. It was almost like they could feel the tension unfolding in the house below them. When the time was right they would swoop down and feed off the remains.
Tracker tried the handle of the door, it was firmly locked. He looked around the room. There was a wooden desk with a studded green leather top to one side of the room with a sturdy looking chair tucked beneath. Tracker hung the strap of his gun over his shoulder and dragged the heavy chair towards the window.
‘Wait,’ said Steven, realising what Tracker had in mind. ‘If we smash the window the creatures will be able to get inside the house.’
‘Two more of the survivors are down,’ shouted Georgia as she stepped into the room with a look of panic on her face. ‘There’s nowhere for them to find cover in the corridor. We're too vulnerable.’
‘Georgia, we’re going round the outside. As soon as we're gone barricade the external door immediately. We have to delay the creatures getting inside.’
‘Once we’ve got this situation under control we will find the antibiotics. I just hope there’s enough to go around.’
Tracker and Steven lifted the chair up from both sides and launched it towards the external door. There was an explosion of glass that cascaded onto the paved area outside. They quickly stepped through the gap in the door and into the garden they had been in the previous night. They edged along the cream stone wall, past a room that had two windows overlooking the garden, towards a series of steps that led up to the double doors of the Council Room. In the darkness they could see the crackle of orange as shot after shot burst from the room towards the corridor.
Tracker peered through the nearest pane of glass. He could see four people crouched down behind the bookshelf taking it in turns raising their guns above the furniture to fire at the survivors in the corridor. When two of them weren’t shooting, they were loading more bullets into their weapons. Although he recognised one person as Wanda, the leader they had met at the Bank of England, he couldn’t see the formidable figure of Coldred anywhere.
Steven looked up into the sky, the creatures were venturing nearer to them, and swooping down to see what they could feast on. A black leathery shape descended towards the shattered remains of the door behind them. It began to crawl through the gap only to explode into a helpless mass of flesh and liquid that drained onto the patio. Steven knew that had been the handiwork of Georgia and her shotgun.
Meanwhile, Tracker had crept up to the patio doors as stealthily and silently as a cat. He grasped the handle of one of the doors, but it wouldn’t turn.
The constant gunfire erupting from inside the Council Room would surely have claimed more of the survivor's life's by now.
Tracker and Steven needed to act quickly.
32. Completing the Family
The castle Max and Joe approached appeared to have curved edges on every surface. Clinging to the sand coloured blocks of the walls was red ivy mixed with pale blue flowers that wound round and embraced the building. The battlements above the castle were unmanned and they could see the top of a low pitched wooden roof that stretched from the perimeter walls to the centre of the round castle before sweeping gracefully upwards, like the roof of a circus tent. In the centre was a narrow metal pole that pointed towards the sky and at the very top a flag fluttered gently.
An empty moat surrounded the thick stone base of the castle walls and seemed to cut in beneath the castle slightly so that the roots of the ivy and grass hung limply in the air above the redundant trench. Max and Joe peered down at the dry cracked base of the moat. It had been some time since water had filled the trench, but in Avalon, such defences for a castle were not needed.
The path they had been following took them directly to a fantastically ornate bridge. The sides towered high above them, as if they had been designed to shield giants. Each side was made up of intricately woven metal strands that twisted and turned, just like the ivy on the wall. Delicate metal leaves burst from the strands as if they were alive. Huge statues of knights lined the way like immovable guards to the castle. The nearer the two boys got to the entrance of the castle the more immersed in the bridge they became. Ahead of them, the statues of the knights had their swords, spears, and pikes drawn and held aloft, forming a grand ceremonial arch that the boys would have to walk beneath if they wanted to enter the castle.
With some hesitation Max and Joe walked beneath the metal swords, into the shadow they created and beneath the thick stone outer wall of the castle and into a dark circular room. To the side of the room a furnace crackled and spat as fire heated the coals and wood, making an orange glow of shadows dance around the walls. In the centre was a tall plinth with a large marble sphere balanced weightlessly on the top, whilst at the base a pool of water had collected. The stone floor of the castle sloped into the water, becoming progressively deeper towards the plinth. Scattered across the surface of the water were fresh lotus flowers that seemed to be suspended in mid air, the water flawlessly reflecting the orange glow from the light above making it appear transparent.
Apart from the two of them, they appeared to be alone.
Above them they could see the underneath of the wooden roof, its brown beams lined up perfectly towards the centre of the room before bending up to a point directly above the plinth.
Max turned towards the plinth. He thought he had heard the gentle sound of water being disturbed. The sea of lotus flowers began to part as a figure of a woman slowly emerged from the water, rising as she walked up the sloped floor towards them. Her slender body was clothed in a green dress that clung to her. Her skin shone white whilst her black hair hung perfectly straight over her shoulders, framing her face and the wide eyes that watched t
he boys.
She walked barefoot towards them.
‘Welcome to my home.’ She spoke softly, but the sound seemed to carry and echo around the circular room. ‘Only the paths of a few ever find their way to my castle. And, very rarely are they the paths of living souls.’
‘We were told to come here by Sir Edgar Gorlois, one of King Arthur’s knights, to return one of the twelve swords of power to you,’ said Max, holding out Ethera for her to take.
But the lady did not reach out for the sword.
‘You may have seen Sir Edgar and his brothers guarding the bridge you just passed over,’ she paused as Joe and Max simultaneously looked back towards the entrance, surprised that they had not recognised their friend. ‘All of the knights that carried a sword have honoured you by lining the way.’
She gracefully moved around the room, picked up a jug from a small table and poured the contents into the water around the plinth. She then turned her back on the pool of water and walked towards the table. As she did so, the water began to part once more, as it had done when she had first emerged, but this time, eleven metal crosses pushed through the surface. Within seconds, the boys realised that they were not crosses at all, but the handles of eleven swords standing upright. The blades slid easily out of the water, hardly disturbing the surface. As they lifted higher out of the water, they could see that each sword was embedded within a ring of roughly cut stone. Once they stopped moving they became aware of a rough grating sound that seemed to be coming from somewhere near the sphere on top of the plinth. Slowly a large gold bladed sword slid out of the sphere, its tip pointing upwards towards the centre of the ceiling.
‘My name is Nimue, Priestess of Avalon. I forged these swords many, many years ago, but it was the Elixir of Life that gave them their magical powers. Over the years all of the other swords have returned to me. All except for Ethera.’
‘Take it,’ replied Max, unsure what was about to happen. ‘Please.’
‘No. You are the swords current owner; you must be the one to complete the family.’
‘What do you mean?’ asked Joe.
‘Ethera is the remaining female sword. All of the twelve swords are female, and all are paired to the greatest male sword that I have ever forged - Excalibur, the legendary sword of King Arthur. As the last surviving owner of one of the swords, when the family is complete you will have complete control over all of the swords, including Excalibur. But, that power is only temporary. Once they are united, the magic of the swords will begin to be absorbed back into the Elixir of Life, they were given to the guardians of the mortal world as a gift which would eventually need to be returned.’
Max had already seen the empty stone that was waiting to take Ethera. As soon as he placed the sword inside the stone, he would have control over all thirteen swords. Doubts flashed through his mind - how could he get the swords to act like Ethera had under Edgar’s control when they had been in the forest clearing? He recalled the words that Edgar had once spoken, if the sword doesn’t suit the user then it is nothing more than a flat piece of metal. This made Max feel even more uncertain.
He wasn’t the true owner of the sword. He had just picked it up when Edgar had fallen and brought it into Avalon. He could feel the handle of the sword within his grip. Suddenly it felt hot, almost too hot to hold. The future of the planet lay on his shoulders, and it was almost too much of a responsibility to bear. But, what alternative did he have?
‘You can end this,’ said Joe, trying to reassure his friend. ‘And then we can go home.’
Max nodded.
He stepped forward and stood behind the vacant stone. He gripped the hilt of the sword tightly with both hands, rested it in the slot then pushed it down as hard as he could. Half expecting there to be a flash of lightening or something dramatic, Max was surprised when all he felt was a tingling wave of electricity riding through his arms. But the sensation grew and grew until it almost felt unbearable. He wanted to let go of the sword, but it was as if his hands were glued to it. A white light began to emerge beside each of the other swords that slowly transformed into the ghostly shape of a knight, the spirit of each sword bearer returning to join him. Max became aware of a white glow beside him too and the familiar, yet ghostly, figure of Edgar looking younger and healthier.
‘Tell Ethera what to do,’ said the voice of Edgar in Max’s head. ‘Visualize the energy that came from her when we were in the forest clearing. See the cleansing light pulsating from the tip.’
‘I can’t,’ replied Max to himself. ‘I’m not strong enough.’
‘You are stronger than you realise. Close your eyes. Think of the Moon Stealers, think of the death and destruction they have caused across our world. How many families have been ripped apart, how many children have been orphaned. The curtain is falling on the human race, but you can wash it away. The light has the power to disable the creatures; it will spread like fire across the globe, igniting life once again.’
At the mention of families, Max thought of his own parents and his four sisters. He didn’t know if any of them were alive, but unless he did something, he would never have the chance to find out. He concentrated on the metal in the palm of his hands. He could feel a gentle vibration in the sword. He concentrated on it, synchronising his heart beat with the sword. In his mind he could see a tiny white spot far away in the distance, and as he watched, the spot grew and grew as it came towards him. It was like he was standing on a train track at night, watching the lamp of an oncoming train racing towards him. But he didn’t move or turn away. Instead he let the white light engulf him. His pulse quickened in time with the vibration in the sword. It was as if the sword was an extension of his body, it lived through him.
Strangely, Max now felt calm and confident. He was comfortable with this coexistence beside the sword. He seemed to know and understand who the eleven knights holding the swords were, but only because Ethera was connected to each one.
The knights waited.
Max thought back to the clearing in the forest and the pulses of white light that had burst from Ethera, then he took that thought and passed it to the sword. Immediately the vibrations increased until the sword hummed gently inside the rock that was holding it. The silver blade began to shine brighter than he had ever seen before, as did the other swords. A ring of light suddenly burst between them, like crackles of static and electricity looking for somewhere to go. The light shot up towards the golden blade of Excalibur which absorbed it momentarily before a thick column of perfectly channelled pure white energy connected the tip of Excalibur to the peak beneath the curved centre of the roof.
Light erupted with a crackle from the flag pole in the centre of the roof and into the sky. The pulsating vibrations carried the energy on waves rippling out from the castle roof, over the fields, out of Avalon and across the planet. Occasionally it was joined by static held in clouds creating thunderstorms that violently crashed around the planet, charged to a level higher than a storm had even been before. In cities where generators were providing survivors with electricity, the cables crackled with charge, overloading the engines causing them to burn out. As soon as one wave had left the metal pole another would follow.
Again and again, like endless waves washing over the land.
33. The Druid's Oak
As soon as Lady Flora could sense no more creatures outside the underpass they had used for the night, she quickly reopened it ready for them to drive away. They continued on the motorway heading south towards London, stopping only once for more fuel but continuing again almost immediately. Lady Flora had no way of knowing how long it would take Edgar to reach Avalon so she wanted to get to the Druid's Oak as quickly as possible to prepare herself.
'We need to ask for directions,' Lady Flora said.
They were approaching a place called High Wycombe. Scarlet slowed the car down.
'But, there's no one to ask,' she replied.
'Park the car beside those trees.'
Scarle
t did as she was instructed and manoeuvred onto a slip road beside a small clump of silver birch trees.
'Of all the trees, the silver birch is the most sociable. Did you never wonder why they group together and live so closely to humans in their towns and cities?' Lady Flora opened her door and stepped towards the trees. She placed a hand on the smooth white bark and closed her eyes. Scarlet and Peter watched from inside the car and waited patiently. When she was done Lady Flora gave the tree a playful pat like a dog receiving praise for retrieving a stick, then she got back into the car.
'Look for signs to Slough and we will find Farnham Common and the entrance to Burnham Beeches,' she announced.
Scarlet drove along the motorway until she saw a sign for Slough. Taking that exit, the road became narrower and wound its way through clumps of woodland until they reached a more built up area. The name of the town was Farnham Common and it wasn’t long before they caught a glimpse of a brown tourist sign for Burnham Beeches. They turned right and followed the road until they came to a crossroads where a black and white fingerpost pointed them towards an area where the road became engulfed in the shadows of the trees. The road narrowed until they could go no further. A metal gate blocked their path and only a cattle grid allowed pedestrians into the ancient woodland.
Scarlet turned off the engine.
Everywhere was so silent and dead. It was like they were living in a vacuum where nothing dared make a sound. It was mid afternoon and the path they were going to follow was already dark, making them vulnerable to creatures hunting within the shadows of the forest.
They looked at each other, exchanging glances that shared the fears they were too scared to voice.
'Well, we're not going to be much help if we stay inside this little car,' said Lady Flora as she opened her door and climbed out. Scarlet and Peter reluctantly followed. They took some water and snacks from the bags in the back and began to tread the path into the wood.
