by Mark Hayden
She was deadly serious. I bit back on the jokes and said, ‘I promise.’
She had one more thing to say. ‘In her world, Cara is a woman. She and Alex are already hard at work on securing the future of the pack. Shall we go?’
I released her from my arm and re-lit the lantern. ‘Yes, love.’
29 — Air Lift
There was a lot to do overnight. Calls were made, Gnomes arrived, prisoners left and the farm rang to the sound of the mine doors being hammered back into shape. At two o’clock in the morning, I’d insisted that they place a Silence on their activities so that I could get some bloody sleep, thank you very much.
I surfaced and took my coffee into the yard at seven o’clock, just as the farmer was heading back from milking. My breath steamed in the pre-dawn light, and I could see a hoar frost glistening on the pasture.
‘Is it really all over?’ he asked. ‘No one was around when I got up. Seems impossible.’
We looked at the cows having a good munch as they wandered around on the clean straw in their byre. ‘First day of a new era,’ I said. ‘You can stay and re-build the herd or get out. Up to you. Either way, you can actually go shopping if you want, and you can move back into the farmhouse soon. I’d steer clear of the Well of Desire for a bit, though.’
He grunted and went into his cottage for breakfast. Just before we all gathered at the mine, I caught sight of Hannah sneaking out of the farmhouse. Actually sneaking. And carrying a black bin liner stuffed full of something. I intercepted her on the way to Karina’s new Evoque, which she’d volunteered to drive down to Birmingham. ‘Morning, ma’am,’ I said. ‘A little plunder of our own, perhaps?’
She jumped and dropped the bin liner. ‘Oy vey, Conrad, what are you doing up?’ She scrabbled to pick the bag up again, and the plastic slipped in her fingers, revealing bright red fabric inside. Of course: the Trolley Dolly uniforms.
‘You wouldn’t by any chance be saving those for the hen do, would you?’
She gave me her evil grin. ‘Only to scare them. And then I’ll produce something even worse.’
‘Your secret is safe with me.’ She stuffed the bag in the car as more of the gang appeared.
After a quick breakfast, everyone made their way to the doors of the mine: the pack, including the cubs; Ilse and Kathe; Lloyd’s wife, Anna, and their three girls; three other wives and children of the new clan; Tom and Lucy; Chris Kelly and Kenver Mowbray; Hannah, Mina, Scout and me.
‘Is it auto-suggestion, or does it really feel different up here?’ said Tom.
‘It doesn’t just feel different, it smells different,’ I said. ‘The whole area reeks of Gnome.’
At seven thirty, the first rays of a clear day hit the doors, and they swung open. This was no longer a hole in the ground, it was the First Mine of Clan Salz. The new chief came out first.
Lloyd was carrying a very different axe to any I’d seen before: a white head of high-tech ceramic sat on top of a carbon fibre haft. Clan Salz was going to specialise in new materials, and it would be a wake-up call for a lot of the clans. He was followed by the other six, including Hans and Max.
He didn’t make a great speech, he just lifted the axe and said, ‘I am no longer Lloyd Flint. I am Lloyd Salz, chief of Clan Salz, first member of the seventh house of Clan Salz. This is the sacred ground of Clan Salz, and you are all welcome here. Witness that I name Edmund as the Clan Second.’
He passed the axe to one of the Gnomes from Nottingham, and accepted a sword from Hans. ‘I chose the Seventh House to honour the Lord Guardian, and I name him Honorary Clan Swordbearer. As a tributary clan, we will have to wait for the right to name a bearer of our own. Until then, he will guarantee the agreement between us and Clan Blackrod.’
I accepted the sword. It was simple and could only perform one act of magick: it would allow me to open the doors of the Mine.
I was going to say something, but I heard a noise in the west. Everyone else heard it, too, and sooner, but only I knew it was the twin turbos of the Smurf. ‘I am honoured, chief, but the pack’s new home awaits. Incoming chopper.’
‘Then go in peace and go well,’ said Lloyd.
I picked up my rucksack, gave Scout a scratch and gave Mina a kiss. They wouldn’t be coming on this journey. ‘Let’s go,’ I said to the pack.
They followed me at a to a flattish meadow outside the area of displacement, and I chucked a flare downwind of the LZ.
‘In the name of Great Fang, we cannae go in that!’ said Alex when he saw the Smurf descending for a pinpoint landing.
‘Yes you can. It’ll be like nothing you’ve ever experienced.’
‘Tha’s wha’ worries me.’
The charter pilot cut the engines and went through the shutdown procedure. We waited patiently until he emerged, and I led the pack over the grass.
‘What the fucking hell happened to you?’ he said when he saw my uniform, the blood and the bandage. ‘And what’s with the school outing?’
‘Thanks for getting up so early and being here on time. Much appreciated. DCI Morton will pick you up and take you to the nearest mainline station. There’s been a change of plan.’
‘Oh?’
‘The Smurf is being relocated to Chester.’
‘Oh. Right. Fair enough. Where shall I wait?’
‘Over by the road. He’ll be along as soon as we’re gone.’
We shook hands, and he gave me the tablet computer and keys. I opened the cargo bay and the pack slung their meagre possessions inside, then I supervised getting five adults, one Elder and four cubs into the back, belted up and put on the intercom.
Just before I started the engines, I turned the intercom off. There was going to be screaming. I just knew it.
We made good time on the 200 mile flight north, into the proper North of Northumberland, land of wild forests and home to the Northumbrian Shield Wall, a Circle of Mages dedicated to the Allfather. They know exactly who I am, and of my relationship with Odin, and they keep pestering me to visit them. I’d have to go soon, but not today.
Vicky had been on the phone much of the night, and when I found the tiny cottage at the edge of the Northumberland National Park, there was a black figure waiting for us. Vicky had been introduced to the world of magick by a Goth, she’d told me, and said Goth had agreed to be the Pack Witch until we could find a permanent solution.
‘Brace yourselves,’ I told Alex. ‘Down in two.’
The cubs ran out under the slowing rotors like you’d expect a bunch of kids to run, eager to let off steam and explore their new home.
The Witch spoke to the pack first. ‘I’m Dawn, and welcome to Loki’s Run. It’s a bit basic at the minute, like, but we’ll soon sort that out. I’m sure you’ll be happy here.’
Alex turned to me with a great big grin on his face. ‘Here? Really? It’s a paradise. I cannae believe it after what we’ve been through, and we cannae thank you enough, Sire.’
‘Cup of tea?’ said Dawn. ‘I’d offer you something stronger, Lord Guardian, but you’ve got to fly home. I suppose.’
‘Thank you.’
‘I’ll go and get the gas stove working. I think you’ve got a visitor.’
She was right. Loki’s Run was right at the head of a dale, and I’d landed the Smurf on a flat section of heather moorland, just off the property. Dawn made her way towards the cottage, and the pack had mostly scattered down the slope, through the trees and towards the burn (stream) that had carved out the valley. Guarding the entrance to the estate were a pair of yew trees, and under one of them stood the cloaked figure of the Allfather. I crossed over and bowed. ‘My Lord.’
‘I had not expected to see you again so soon,’ he replied. He lowered his hood and showed me today’s face. He’d opted for the Classic look, all long white hair and grey beard. The only modern note was his eye patch: a purple number with the outline of an eye stitched on it in gold thread. Yes, it was very creepy.
‘You know Zeno’s Paradox?’ he
said.
‘I do. It once passed some very slow hours in Afghanistan.’
‘We have a different version, called Loki’s Puzzle, and yes, it passed many an hour in Asgard. It reminds me of you.’
‘That was not reassuring, My Lord.’
‘Nor was it meant to be. I think you are around half way to finding the Codex Defanatus. The next half of the next half will be just as hard, as will the half of the half after that.’
‘You don’t know who has it, do you, My Lord?’ I made it a question, not a statement, but it was still fairly rude by divine standards.
‘Only the universe is omniscient, and we are part of the universe, so none of us can know everything.’ His lips peeled back in the scariest smile of any creature I have ever encountered. ‘Nimue once bore me a son, you know. I wonder if you’re descended from him, Lord Guardian? It’s a title that suits you, by the way.’ He lifted his hood back up. ‘You’ve no doubt heard the saying: Winter is Coming?’
‘It has become rather popular in the mundane world.’
‘That’s not the original version. The original version is: Winter is always Coming. Go well, Lord Guardian.’
A rustle in the branches made me look up, and when I looked down, he had gone, and I was alone. Or so I thought.
‘Was that the Sigföðr?’ said Cara. She’d crept up behind me, quiet as the wolf. I tried not to jump out of my skin.
‘I don’t know. I’ve not heard that name before.’
‘The Father of War, I think it means. Being Irish, I’m not so good on your German.’
‘Father of War. Yes, that was him. Does he feature in your stories?’
‘Oh yes, Sire, he does indeed. When you come back, for a proper feast, I’ll get Oma to tell you some of them. Proper scary they are.’
‘I look forward to it.’
‘Good. I’ve a message for you from Dawn: tea’s ready.’
‘And I’m ready for tea. Thank you, Cara. I’ll be there in a minute.’
She ran across the grass, barefoot, shorn of all care for a while. She jumped over a fallen branch and her hair streamed behind her. Her body said exactly what I felt:
Life can be good. If you let it.
Conrad, Mina and the whole gang’s story continues in Six Furlongs–
the Eighth Book of the King’s Watch, available from Paw Press in Summer 2020.
You can also find out how Conrad and Vicky finally settle the score with Adaryn ap Owain in:
French Leave– A King’s Watch Story
Turn over for more…
French Leave
The Fourth King’s Watch novella will shortly be available to pre-order from Paw Press on Amazon.
There were six Druids in the Dragon Brotherhood.
Three are dead.
Two are doing time.
One has been on the run for months…
But there are no cold cases in the King’s Watch.
Conrad last saw Adaryn ap Owain on a wet Welsh hillside, and she’d just stopped Vicky’s heart. Now he has a lead on her, a lead that will take him to Brittany. Foreign soil. Who on earth can he rely on to help him when he’s a stranger in a strange land?
Find out who joins Team Conrad in French Leave.
And then…
Coming Soon
Six Furlongs
The Eighth Book of the King’s Watch
by
Mark Hayden
Saddle up for the ride of your life…
Swinging from a tree on the Furness Peninsula is the body of a Mage. A renegade Mage.
His brother finds him, and his brother calls in the only person he knows who can help - the new Lord Guardian of the North.
The only problem is that Conrad has no real jurisdiction in the Lakeland Particular, and no one is keen for this death to be investigated.
If that wasn’t enough, he also has to deal with the election of the new Warden of Salomon’s House.
Available Summer 2020 from Paw Press on Amazon.
And why not join Conrad’s elite group of supporters:
The Merlyn’s Tower Irregulars
Visit the Paw Press website and sign up for the Irregulars to receive news of new books, or visit the Facebook page for Mark Hayden Author and Like it.
Author’s Note
Thank you for reading this book; I hope you enjoyed it. If you did, please leave a review on Amazon. It doesn't have to be long. Reviews make a huge difference to Indie authors, and an honest review from a genuine customer is worth a great deal. If you've read all the books of the King’s Watch, please review them, too – even if you’re in a hurry to read the next one.
Shakespeare said that A good wine deserves a good bush. In other words, a good book deserves a good cover. I’ll never be able to prove it, but I strongly believe that The King’s Watch would not have been the same without the beautiful covers designed by the Awesome Rachel Lawston.
It therefore gave me great pleasure to not only dedicate this book to her, but to include her as a character. Those who know her better can decide whether the portrayal is an accurate one.
The King’s Watch books are a radical departure from my previous five novels, all of which are crime or thrillers, though very much set in the same universe, including the Operation Jigsaw Trilogy. Conrad himself refers to it as being part of his history.
You might like to go back the Jigsaw trilogy and discover how he came to the Allfather’s attention. As I was writing those books, I knew that one day Conrad would have special adventures of his own, and that’s why the Phantom makes a couple of guest appearances.
Other than that, it only remains to be said that all the characters in this book are fictional, as are some of the places, but Merlyn’s Tower, Middlebarrow and Brookford Farm are, of course, all real places, it’s just that you can only see them if you have the Gift…
This book could it have been written without love, support, encouragement and sacrifices from my wife, Anne. It just goes to show how much she loves me that she let me write the first Conrad book even though she hates fantasy novels. She says she now likes them. And, as ever, Chris Tyler’s friendship is a big part of my continued desire to write.
Thanks,
Mark Hayden.
