Destroyer of Worlds

by Mark Chadbourn

  ‘We have not hurt anyone—’

  ‘Yes, we have!’ She lowered her voice and looked down when Veitch cast a suspicious glance at her. ‘We’ve turned people’s lives on their heads, all their little happinesses that everyone around here laughs at so much, we’ve seen people hurt and killed, and we’ve carried on regardless because we believed it was a necessary price to pay. Because we thought we had the moral high ground. We’ve not given them anything better to make up for their loss, just the promise of heaven around the corner. You could say there wouldn’t have been any Fomorii invasion and world-turned-on-its-head if the Void hadn’t been afraid the Pendragon Spirit and its Champions of Existence weren’t going to upset the apple cart.’

  ‘I would say you are considering things too closely. The big picture—’

  ‘Can’t be seen, yeah, yeah, that’s our great get-out clause so we don’t have to face up to the consequences of our actions. Think of all the misery and suffering that’s followed us around. How can we be the heroes? We’re not revolutionaries, we’re terrorists.’

  Laura wouldn’t meet Shavi’s eye, but she couldn’t hide how close to tears she was. ‘It is all right to have doubts,’ he said gently, slipping an arm around her shoulders. ‘All of us have doubts at some point.’

  ‘Even you?’

  ‘Even me. When you do not know the rules of Existence, and when you cannot see the greater patterns, all you have left is faith in yourself, and faith in your friends.’

  The words were meant to be comforting, but they only upset Laura more. Stray tears ran down her cheeks and she wiped them away angrily before accepting a brief, reassuring hug, then marched off to be alone with her thoughts.

  The mist turned into a dense fog as they drew towards Stonehenge. Colours glinted in droplets of moisture all around and Veitch asked uneasily, ‘Are we back in the Warp Zone or what?’

  ‘I don’t know, but something’s not right.’ Church slowed the pace as they attempted to orient themselves.

  ‘Someone’s here,’ Ruth said.

  ‘I don’t see anyone,’ Veitch responded.

  ‘I . . . feel it.’

  ‘You’re using the Craft?’ Church asked. ‘I thought it didn’t work so well here when the Blue Fire is dormant.’

  ‘I don’t know . . . it feels stronger, somehow. I was using it instinctively, like I learned to do in the Otherworld.’

  Lurching out of the dense fog, a figure brought them to a sudden halt. His long hair tied in a knot at the side of his head, he wore a fur cape over a woollen tunic that had been dyed brightly with berries. They bristled for an attack, but he grinned broadly and waved before hailing them in a musical language that only Church understood. With a flourish, he disappeared back into the fog.

  ‘What the fuck?’ Laura said.

  ‘Iron Age Celt,’ Church said, recalling with a pang his time in Carn Euny almost two thousand years ago.

  ‘In Wiltshire, now?’ Ruth said.

  ‘Something is strange here,’ Tom muttered. ‘And we are still not alone.’

  Footsteps circled them, ebbing and flowing through the muffling shroud of the fog so that it was impossible to pinpoint their location. But they could all tell that whoever was making them was following with caution, perhaps even a hint of threat. They drew into a tighter knot, unsettled by how fast the footsteps moved. At times they wondered if they were mistaken and it was really an animal prowling around just beyond view.

  The fog folded and briefly revealed a dark shape that did not assuage their doubts; it was long and lean, moving low, so it could have been rising from all fours or falling from two feet. It loped back into the fog as soon as their gaze fell upon it.

  Church drew Caledfwlch and was shocked by the whoosh! as the blue flames leaped around the blade.

  ‘That cannot be right,’ Tom said. ‘In the times when the Void has been most dominant, the Blue Fire in this area has always been more dormant than at other sites. Human encroachment, the roads and the abuse bled the land of its sacred quality.’

  ‘Maybe,’ Church said thoughtfully, ‘the Void isn’t as dominant as we thought.’

  The figure erupted from the mists in a whirl of limbs brandishing a weapon that moved too fast for them to see. A blow creased Church’s forehead; another upended Veitch; and the final one came to rest at the skin of Ruth’s throat.

  Her gaze ran along the gnarled wooden staff to the just as gnarled figure holding it, arms and face mahogany-brown from the sun and wind, grey-black, greasy hair hanging lank around his head, a stained cheesecloth shirt and mud-spattered trousers and the fiercest eyes Ruth had ever seen.

  Familiar eyes.

  ‘Wait!’ Shavi called exuberantly. ‘It is us!’

  The Bone Inspector eyed them suspiciously, then slowly lowered his staff. ‘These are dangerous times,’ he growled. ‘Upheaval. Constant change. Damned spiders coming and going. And now . . . this.’ He nodded around him. ‘We’re going to have all hell on us in no time.’ His steely gaze scanned every face until his eyes rested on Tom and a small smile sprang to his lips. ‘I’d heard you were dead.’

  ‘It was overrated. I came back.’ They hugged each other briefly like old friends.

  ‘Two grumpy old bastards together,’ Laura muttered. ‘This is hell in stereo.’

  ‘We’d also heard you lot were gone from this world,’ the Bone Inspector said to the others. ‘I wanted to be sure you weren’t some trick of the spiders. A Trojan Horse.’

  ‘Who is he?’ Rachel whispered to Shavi.

  ‘You’ve got nothing to fear from me,’ the Bone Inspector said. ‘Not unless you get on the wrong side of me. I watch over the old places, the burial mounds, the wells, the stone circles, the cairns. Make sure no one interferes with the treasures they’ve held since the old times. From Shetland to Scilly, Neath to Norfolk, I’m there. Always have been. Will be till I die.’

  ‘You said “we”.’ Church rubbed the bump on his head. ‘You’re not alone.’

  ‘If you’re here, then I suppose you need to see this.’ He turned and loped into the fog, and the others hurried to keep up.

  After only a few yards, the fog began to thin, turning back into the low, drifting mist, now golden in the light of the dawn sun, and within a few moments that too was gone. Behind it lay a landscape that took their breath away, so ancient and wild that it appeared as if they had walked two thousand years into the past. But when he squinted, Shavi could see pylons in the distance and the air still had the taint of petrol fumes.

  Stonehenge was no longer a ruin, eroded by centuries of wind and rain and man’s poor stewardship. The megaliths stood tall and proud, the lintels complete, and all around the outlying stones were erect, their surfaces gleaming and smooth as though they had been hewn by the stone-workers only recently.

  A sprawling crowd faced the rising sun in silent adoration. The reinvigorating dawn rays shone brightly along the precisely aligned avenue. The people wore the Iron Age clothes of the man they had encountered in the fog, and there were young and old, men, women and children, strong and frail, all side by side in the solemn congregation.

  The sun hit a point where it was framed whole and round between two stones, and a man - some kind of priest, Shavi guessed - raised his arms and called out to the sky. As one the people raised their heads. Loud drumming began instantly, a perfect, complex rhythm, but within seconds Shavi realised there was more to it than a simple celebration. The peculiar alignment of the stones created strange acoustics that amplified and distorted the pounding so that it appeared as if the stones themselves were singing to the heavens, the sound rolling and muffling, then growing louder as it shifted around the circle like a living thing. It was hallucinogenic, transcendental; though he was well away from the ritual, he was transported, and he wondered what awe those at the henge would be feeling.

  When the drumming reached a crescendo, it stopped suddenly. The ringing silence was just as potent, but it only lay over the circle for a
second before there was a soaring whoosh as Blue Fire burned in lines along the paths of the ancient leys. In the distance they interconnected to create the Fiery Network. Above the stone circle, the sapphire flames rushed up to create a structure that appeared to reach towards the stars, a cathedral of fire that made their chests swell and brought tears of awe to their eyes.

  For a moment, they basked in the wonder of the display and then the Blue Fire washed back into hiding, but the effect it had on their emotions did not disappear. A cheer rose up from the crowd, children whooping and playing, adults hugging each other, or kissing, as they turned from the stones and made their way towards the shimmering line of the river.

  As the congregation dispersed, Shavi was surprised to see several people in modern dress following the throng, their faces as alight as their ancient ancestors’.

  ‘They’ll make their way back to Woodhenge for a feast that will go on till tomorrow.’ the Bone Inspector grunted. ‘This is the Summer Solstice. A celebration of life and death, and how the two are tied together.’ He glanced at Tom. ‘Nothing ends. There is always something higher, always something beyond the horizon.’

  ‘What’s happening here?’ Church asked. ‘Those Iron Age people . . . the megaliths—’

  ‘All time is folding together,’ the Bone Inspector replied. ‘Don’t ask me how, but I hear this is how it is in the Otherworld.’

  Rachel wiped the tears from her cheeks. If anything, she had been more affected by the sight than the others. ‘I never guessed,’ she whispered. ‘So much potential . . . all around us. And we never saw it.’

  ‘It won’t last long,’ the Bone Inspector said. ‘The Army of the Ten Billion Spiders won’t let it. Things like this could destroy the Mundane Spell in a minute. Once you’ve seen this, why go back to your offices?’

  ‘We can’t let that be destroyed!’ Rachel said desperately.

  ‘Then you need to get busy,’ the Bone Inspector said, ‘because you lot are the only people who can stop that happening.’

  ‘The Brothers and Sisters of Dragons, you mean?’ Rachel enquired.

  ‘Humans.’ He turned back to Stonehenge. ‘Come on. There are people you need to meet.’

  7

  As they passed through the fringes of the crowd streaming towards the river, the mood of exuberance was infectious. Once their dress was forgotten, Church could have believed they were all from the modern world enjoying the festivities of some summer carnival. Many hailed him and the others as they went by and entreated them to join them at the feast.

  The Bone Inspector was untouched. Keeping his head down, he marched past the last of the crowd towards Stonehenge. Electricity filled the air as they walked between the megaliths of the outer circle and into the heart of the ring. Amongst the stones, ten men talked quietly. Most were in their fifties, though a couple were very elderly indeed. They wore grey robes tied with a cord at the waist, and on their heads were circlets of oak and ivy.

  Church recognised their dress from his time in Carn Euny. ‘The Culture?’ he said, referring to the secretive society that had guarded the knowledge of nature and the Blue Fire since ancient times. ‘I thought most of them were wiped out during the Roman invasion.’

  ‘You and me both,’ the Bone Inspector growled. ‘I always thought I was the last of them. But then a few days ago, they reappeared.’

  One of them came over eagerly the moment he saw them. He was in his sixties, tall, with piercing grey eyes, a totemistic staff indicating he was the leader of the group.

  ‘Brothers and Sisters of Dragons!’ he said, shaking each of their hands in turn. ‘We never expected to see you here! My name is Matthias, leader of the Culture.’ He nodded to the Bone Inspector. ‘Brother, you were wrong.’

  ‘Sometimes I am, and this time I’m glad.’

  ‘Walk with us,’ Matthias said. ‘Join the feast.’

  ‘We’ve got work to do—’ Church began, but Tom interrupted him.

  ‘Not so fast. You might learn something.’

  A note in Tom’s voice suggested the Rhymer had some hidden knowledge. ‘You’ve seen something in the future,’ Church said.

  Tom nodded slowly. ‘I’ve seen a lot of things. This is the last step of the journey. Don’t go rushing to finish it up too quickly. Savour it. Besides, it’s the Solstice. The Blue Fire swirling around beneath Stonehenge is at its peak. You don’t want to be going down there until it’s abated, a little at least. Tonight will be fine.’

  ‘You want to go beneath Stonehenge?’ Ruth said.

  Church couldn’t answer. He looked briefly from face to face, searching for any hint of potential betrayal, and finally his gaze came to rest on Tom, who recognised what was going through Church’s head and looked away, disgusted.

  ‘Come on,’ Tom said. ‘I’m hungry, and I need a rest and a smoke.’

  They joined the tail of the group processing along the river towards the Durrington Walls henge and the nearby Woodhenge. It was going to be a beautiful day. The sky was a clear blue and an age-old peace lay over the fields, copses and hedgerows; five thousand years wrapped up in one moment. Church wondered briefly if the magical transformation that had come over the site had something to do with the power infused into the land through generations of reverence, a store of sacred energy that, right at the end of time, had started to transmit.

  His thoughts were brought to a halt by their arrival on a ceremonial path leading from the river into a bewildering chaos of noise and activity. For thousands of years the site, unlike Stonehenge, had been buried beneath the rolling Wiltshire countryside. Now temporary roundhouses and ramshackle huts stood side by side, specially constructed for the Solstice celebrations of life and death as they had been in the distant past. Within a week they would all be dismantled, the tribes that had gathered there returning to their homes across Britain, and even across the sea to mainland Europe.

  It reminded Church of the Glastonbury Music Festival, families and friends gathered in small communities amongst the larger sprawl of their people, campfires everywhere, the smell of cooking food, impromptu music performances with drum and voice, and a general sense of celebrating life.

  The contemporary people Church had witnessed earlier wandered around the camp in a dream, welcomed by their ancestors and called to the fireside where they were offered meat carved from the roasting animals.

  Shavi beamed. ‘If only it was always like this.’

  While Shavi took Rachel, Ruth, Laura and Veitch to explore the camp, Matthias and the other members of the Culture guided Church and Tom to a peaceful enclosure slightly removed from the chaos. Allowing himself one backward glance as Veitch took Ruth’s arm, Church fought a pang of jealousy.

  In a roundhouse, beside a fire, a warm herb infusion was served in wooden bowls while the Culture sat on the straw. Church was increasingly concerned about Tom, and couldn’t shake the feeling that the Rhymer was receiving visions he didn’t want, or couldn’t bear, to share. Occasionally, he would drift into a reverie, jerking himself alert a moment later with tears in his eyes.

  ‘It is good to be back in the world,’ Matthias said when all had received their drinks. ‘Our society has existed since the dawn of mankind. You knew of us, True Thomas, before you were stolen from your home, but by then we were only spoken of in whispers.’

  ‘I could have done with you then. We all could have over the last few centuries,’ Tom said. ‘We were left alone, without teachers. That made us children trying to find our way in a dangerous world.’

  ‘If we could have found a way to survive here, we would have,’ Matthias replied. ‘But it wasn’t gods or beasts who tried to destroy us, it was our own kind. Fragile Creatures. The seekers of power. The warmongers. Our work was to cater to the spiritual needs of the people, to guard the knowledge they need to grow and prosper, and to stand as sentinels, and guides, to the invisible worlds that cluster close to our own. We were a tremendous force for good, yet we were seen as a threat by those who w
anted control.’

  ‘The Void saw you as a threat,’ Church said. ‘Those who bought into the Void’s philosophy were just the tools that carried out the dirty work.’

  ‘Driven from our groves, hunted to the point of extinction, we fled to the Otherworld where we survived on an island in the Dismal Marsh. Unable to tend to our people, we were dissolute and broken in spirit.’ He bowed his head. ‘It took time for us to renew our purpose. But then we became aware that the Brothers and Sisters of Dragons were active once more, and that knowledge brought the Blue Fire back to our hearts. If you were fighting to oppose the Void, how could we remain in hiding?’

  ‘See?’ Tom said pointedly to Church. ‘You keep thinking of yourselves, with your own shallow perspective, only looking around the tiny sphere of your immediate influence. You don’t realise that simply by moving through the world you are changing all of Existence. The connections ripple out, altering the pattern.’ He sighed. ‘How am I supposed to drum some sense into your head? Step back and see the big pattern, and all your petty little concerns fall into perspective.’