Yet his emotions were in such turmoil it was almost impossible to concentrate on the driving. Now he knew what the old woman on the banks of the Thames had meant: it was a premonition of his death. He would have thought the knowledge would have destroyed him, but he couldn't quite work out what he felt: disbelief, despite what the woman had said, hope that it would all work out differently, even some relief that the tiring struggle of the last two years was coming to an end. But it was too soon to consider that. In the brief time he had spoken to the woman she had given him so much information his head was spinning. What did it all mean, and why was he involved? And was he finally going to find out the answer to the only question that mattered to him: why Marianne had taken her life? He switched on the radio in the hope that it would drown out his chattering thoughts.
As the music filled the car, he knew it would prevent Laura hearing any conversation, so he said quietly to Ruth, "Do you ever think about dying?"
She looked at him suspiciously, as if she could see right through his question. "Not if I can help it."
"But you never know how much time you've got, do you?"
"Did something happen to you in that place that you're not telling me?"
He kept his eyes firmly on the road ahead. "I think if I knew I was going to die, I'd like to do something good, something unselfish for once."
Ruth could see the heaviness of his thoughts echoed on his face and it upset her that he didn't feel he could open up to her.
Suddenly it didn't seem right to talk any more. The sun slid beneath the horizon and they fell into an uneasy silence as the car headed out into the night.
chapter seven
here be dragons
hutch wanted to keep to the well-lit roads while following the lantern's general direction, but that would have meant heading back towards Stonehenge, where Tom had said the Baobhan Sith had posted sentries. Instead he had to follow a looping route which took them on to an unlit road across Salisbury Plain. As they left the sodium haze behind and the night closed around them, they all thought they could see strange things moving off across the plain; odd lights flickered intermittently, will o' the wisps trying to draw their attention, and at one point a large shadow loomed at the side of the road. Church floored the accelerator to get past it and didn't look in the rearview mirror until they were far away.
It was a disturbing journey; they all felt the countryside had somehow become a no-man's land filled with peril. At first, hedges were high and trees clustered against the road oppressively, but as they moved on to the plain it opened out and they were depressed to see there were no welcoming lights anywhere. They passed a sign for Ministry of Defence land where a red flag warned of military manoeuvres; Church wondered briefly if they were already having to cope with things that shouldn't exist; whether they could cope.
They felt relief when they reached the outskirts of Devizes. The lantern pointed them towards the north-east as they passed through the town and they found themselves on another quieter road, although there was not the same sense of foreboding they felt on Salisbury Plain. The landscape on either side was ancient, dotted with hill figures and prehistoric mounds. By 10 p.m. they had wound through numerous tiny villages and eventually found themselves in Avebury, where the lantern flame relaxed into an upright position. The village was protectively encircled by the famous stone circle, its lights seeming a pitiful defence against the encroaching night. Church pulled into the car park in the centre where they could see a handful of the rocks silhouetted against the night sky; he felt oddly unnerved by the synchronicity of long lost times shouting down the years.
"More standing stones," Ruth said, peering through the windscreen at the squat, irregular shapes. "What are we supposed to do now?"
"It's too late to do anything now." Church stretched out the kinks in his back.
Laura leaned forward between the two of them. "Looks like we've just driven into the dead zone. Any danger this place has a pub?"
"We're not here for the night life," Ruth said sourly.
"No reason why we can't enjoy ourselves while we're waiting for the world to end." Laura picked up her computer and mobile phone and climbed out.
Although it was only just March, the night was not unduly cold. An occasional breeze blew from the Downs, filled with numerous subtle fragrances, and the lack of any traffic noise added to the time-lost feeling which was, oddly, both comforting and disconcerting. The Red Lion pub lay only a short walk along the road, an enormous, many-roomed inn whose black timbers creaked beneath the weight of a thatched roof.
"I can't help feeling we should be digging out a foxhole instead of sitting down for a quiet drink like nothing was wrong," Ruth said as they settled at a table.
"When everything is going insane, it's reassuring to do normal things," Church replied. "Pubs have a lot of power in situations like this. It's all about humanity coming together, celebrating in the face of-"
"Do you two always talk bollocks like this?" Laura took a swig of her beer from the bottle, then leaned back in her chair. "Because, you know, I'm starting to see an upside to Armageddon."
Ruth bristled. "You're still on probation. It would be a shame if you made us dump you here in the dead zone."
Laura smiled mockingly which irritated Ruth even more, then directed her comments at Church. "Mystic Meg wouldn't have told you all that information if she didn't think you could do something with it."
Church nodded. "You're right. She thought we were capable of it." He took a long draught of his beer, then looked at Laura curiously. "You've got a good job, a life. Why did you decide to come with us?"
Laura shrugged, then glanced around the bar with studied distraction. "I can't go back to my life and wait for the world to go to hell in a handcart."
"No, you want to give it a helping hand down the slope," Ruth said acidly.
"And let's face it, I'm a different person now," Laura continued. "I've done a few drugs in my time. It's not big or clever, but, hey, I enjoyed myself. And if you've done drugs you know they change you. Suddenly you find yourself apart from all your old friends who haven't done them. They couldn't ever understand what you've been through without experiencing it themselves. After crossing over to that castle, that's how I feel now. It was such a big thing, such a lifechanging experience, bigger than the wildest trip, there isn't a single person on earth who understands me now. Except you. We've got an affinity, Church-dude. We're beyond everyone else. Could you go back to your life after that?"
Church felt Ruth stiffen beside him. He couldn't tell if Laura was specifically trying to annoy her by making her feel excluded, but he guessed she was. "We've all experienced weird things," he said. "I suppose that puts us on common ground."
"But we don't have to like each other," Ruth said coldly.
Laura looked away; nothing seemed to concern her.
"So what's all this nonsense about Brothers and Sisters of Dragons?" Ruth said directly to Church. "It sounds like some ridiculous secret society."
"She was implying we were important somehow. Different. Special." He wrinkled his nose; it didn't make sense to him either.
Ruth snorted ironically. "The way you told it suggested it was some kind of destiny thing. But we wouldn't be here now if we hadn't been under Albert Bridge at that particular moment in time, and that was chance. A big coincidence. If I hadn't had that row with Clive and got out of the taxi, if you'd stayed in bed for five minutes longer, none of this would have happened to us. So how can it be destiny?"
Church shrugged. "Well, she wasn't lying to me-at least it didn't seem that she was. Maybe she was mistaken."
"She wasn't lying," Laura said emphatically.
"How do you know?"
"I just feel it."
"But maybe that explains why those things have been going for the nuclear option in trying to stop us," Church mused. "It would have helped if the mystery woman had told us exactly what our little dragon group is supposed to do. Something ab
out our heritage, she said-"
"If Tom were here I bet he'd have something to say about it," Ruth mused.
"Yeah, he'd be sitting back dispensing enigmatic wisdom like Yoda," Church said. "He was obviously keeping stuff from us-we couldn't trust him. Maybe we're better off without him."
"Do you reckon he's scattered in bits and pieces across Salisbury?" Laura stared out some elderly local who was watching her curiously.
"Who knows where he is. Maybe he fell through another of those holes in the air. Maybe he's hiding out and doing this just to wind us up."
"Oh, he helped us out, Church. He was just selective in what he said." Ruth pondered for a moment, before adding, "He seemed a little scared when you told him about that black dog."
"You should have seen it."
Ruth glanced out of the window, but the lights were too bright within to see anything clearly. "I wonder how much longer we've got?"
"What do you mean?"
"Before the next thing comes after us. The Wild Hunt, Tom said. The worst thing we could expect."
Outside the pub, while they waited for Church to return from the toilet, Ruth could no longer contain herself. Laura was chewing on some gum and kicking stones at the parked cars.
"You ought to know I don't trust you," Ruth said, "and I'm going to be keeping an eye on you."
"Ask me if I'm bothered." Laura continued to boot the stones; one rattled on the side of a brand new BMW.
"You should be."
"What do you want me to do, cry myself to sleep because you don't like me? Wake up, it's never going to happen."
Ruth wanted to slap her, but she controlled herself. "What's wrong with you? This is a nightmare. We could die at any moment. You could at least make the effort to get on."
"I am who I am, Miss Boring Pants. Like it or lump it."
"Really? You expect me to believe DuSantiago is your real name? Lots of South Americans in Salisbury, I suppose. And you really haven't tried hard to build up that cool, hard exterior? Yeah, right."
"Nice sermon. Pity you're talking out of your arse. You don't know anything about me."
"That's the problem. If you opened up, we could start trusting you ... if you really want to help."
"Don't go getting all touchy-feely, New Agey on me. I'm not one for hugs and baring my soul." A stone bounced off the bonnet of a Volvo and set the car alarm blaring. Laura turned back to Ruth, her face lit by the flashing indicator lights. "I'm as committed to this as you are. That's all you need to know."
"No, it's-" Ruth caught her tongue as Church emerged from the pub.
"So ... a night in the car. Should be very restful," he said ironically.
"Lucky me. I get the bijou back seat." When Laura dropped into step next to Church, Ruth felt an odd twinge of loneliness, as if she were slowly being cut out.
"You think we'll be safe there?" she said.
"As safe as anywhere. At least we'll be able to drive off if anything happens." He laughed quietly to himself.
Ruth trailed behind them, overcome by the sudden knowledge that her friendship with Church had become deeper than she realised. How had that happened? she wondered. Their situation was complicated enough without bringing emotions into the fray, but somehow the whole stupid mess had blindsided her. She looked at Laura and hated herself for feeling a twinge of jealousy that the cosy relationship she had with Church was being interrupted. She just hoped she was level-headed enough to prevent her feelings from getting in the way during the difficult times ahead.
Church woke at first light. His joints ached, his feet felt like ice and there was a band of pain across his thigh where his leg had been jammed under the steering wheel. Sleep had been intermittent, troubled by the discomfort of his quarters, nightmares and fears of things off in the dark. He resolved to buy a tent for any future emergencies. But the moment he wiped the condensation from the window with the back of his hand, any grumbles were swept away by the beauty of the early spring day. The sun was just breaking above the horizon, painting the few clouds golden beneath a sky that was slowly turning blue. Among the stones a faint mist rose and drifted, and a stillness lay across the whole area. From his viewpoint, there was no sign of the twentieth century; it could have been anytime. The thought sent prickles down his spine, adding to the haunting quality of the moment that left him feeling like he had been cut adrift from the life he once knew.
Ruth and Laura were still sleeping. He was instantly struck by how beautiful they both looked, in their own ways, once the troubles of the day were stripped from their faces.
But as he wondered if he should wake them, he caught sight of something out of the corner of his eye that jolted him alert. A man was perched on a fencepost next to a hawthorn hedge, eyeing the car intently. Church had to look twice to convince himself it was what he had seen; the watcher was old, thin and angular with skin so sun-browned he seemed almost like a spindly tree growing out of the hedge. He was holding a long, gnarled wooden staff that must have been at least six feet tall, and his grey-black hair hung lank and loose around his shoulders. Apart from his clothes-mud-spattered sandals, well-worn, baggy brown trousers and a white cheesecloth shirt open to the waist-he resembled nothing so much as the pictures Church had seen of the men who helped raise the stones and build the longbarrows that were scattered across the landscape.
"Who is that?" Ruth's voice was sleepy. She rubbed her bleary eyes as she leaned close to Church to peer at the onlooker.
Laura stirred and after a few seconds she too was up, resting her elbows on the backs of their seats. She already had on her sunglasses. "Probably just a peeping tom," she said throatily. "Thought we'd been having a little three-way here in the car. Let's put on a show-see if he goes blind."
"Just some local," Church muttered. He opened the door and climbed out. The air was chilly despite the sun, and he couldn't prevent a convulsive shiver. The only sound was that of the birds in chorus. Ruth and Laura joined him, pulling their coats tight about them, stamping their feet to start their circulation.
The old man's eyes never left them as they walked the short distance to the fencepost. Up close, the most startling quality was the colour of his eyes, which were as blue as a summer sky, and given more power by the brownness of his skin. Church couldn't tell his exact age, although he guessed from the wrinkles on the man's face that he was in his sixties.
"Morning," Church said.
"Morning," the man replied impassively.
"Early start," Church noted.
"Aye. Same as you."
Church wished he had some idea of exactly what they were trying to unearth. Although the lantern had brought them to Avebury, it didn't seem to be much help in establishing an exact location. "Seen anything strange going on round here recently?"
"Depends what you mean," the old man said slyly. "I see lots of strange things in my travels. I've covered the country from Orkney to Scilly a hundred times in my life and every place I've stopped there's been something strange."
"You're not a local?" Church gave the man a renewed examination; there were none of the slightly odd features or waxy skin that disguised what the woman in the Watchtower had called the Night Walkers, but Church felt suspicious nonetheless.
"I'm local wherever I go."
Church was starting to feel distinctly uncomfortable in the old man's presence. There was a faintly threatening air about him and his gaze was becoming more dissecting, as if he knew exactly who Church was.
The old man glanced away across the stones and when he looked back, his eyes were cold and hard. "You cause any trouble here and there'll be hell to pay."
"Who are you?" Ruth asked.
"I guard the old places. Keep an eye on the hidden treasures, the undisturbed burials, the sacred spots. From the Scottish Isles to the South Downs, Land's End to the Fens." He grabbed his staff tightly with hands that looked much stronger than his years suggested. "Sleeping under the stars, watching out for the grave robbers and the sackers a
nd the vandals. Tending to the land, you might say. Some call me the Stone Shepherd-"
"The Bone Inspector." Ruth recalled Tom's account of the man who had first alerted him to the crisis. "Tom mentioned your name."
"And where is he?" he said gruffly.
Church and Ruth glanced at each other uncomfortably.
"He's fallen already, has he? And you are the ones he was looking for?" His expression suggested he wasn't impressed.
"Who are you exactly, and what do you know about what's going on?" Church insisted.
"And who are you to ask questions of me?" As Church began to answer, the old man waved him silent dismissively. "There's been a Bone Inspector since these stones were put up. When one dies, there's always another ready and waiting to take over. In the old days there were lots of us. The keepers of wisdom, we were, worshipping in the groves, tutoring the people. Now there's just me."
In his eyes, Church saw the flat, grey sky over Callanish and the green fields around the Rollrights. In his voice there were echoes of the solemn chant of ancient rituals. But there was the hardness of nature in him too, and Church knew he would be a fool to cross him. The old man held the staff more like a weapon than a walking aid, and his lean limbs were sinewy and powerful.
"How did you find out that everything had changed?" Church asked.
"I felt it in the land. In the force that sings to you if you're of a mind to listen."
"The blue fire?"
"Aye, that's one way of seeing it." He banged his staff gently on the turf. "It's all changing, going back to the way it was. The cities haven't felt it yet, but out in the country they're starting to know. People are keeping clear of the quiet places, specially after dark. There've been a load of disappearances and a few deaths, all put down to accidents so far. They'll know the truth soon enough. I was up at Arbor Low in the Peaks the other day and I saw a wolf that walks like a man. Just a glimpse, mind you, away in the wild. But when I went to look I found an arm. Or what was left of it."
World's End (Age of Misrule, Book 1) Page 16
