Mark Chadbourn - The Burning Man

Sophie hesitated, then ventured in. ‘Is everything all right?’

With red-rimmed eyes, Niamh forced a smile and quickly tried to regain her composure. ‘For most of my long existence, I have never cried. Church taught me how to, along with many other things, and I will always remember him for that.’

‘You were close?’

Niamh motioned for Sophie to join her. ‘I loved him in a way I have not loved anyone before. But his heart always belonged to another.’

‘Ruth.’

Niamh nodded. ‘Brothers and Sisters of Dragons have their own special gravity. At least, that is what I tell myself.’ She gave a wan smile. ‘Now I have other matters to concern me.’

‘The war?’

‘It threatens all the Golden Ones have ever held dear. My people are in disarray. The Great Courts have never worked easily together. Now any failure to unite will lead to our complete destruction. Yet still they will not talk.’

‘There’s something else on your mind, I can tell.’

‘Your Craft gives you great perception. My brother is missing again, and I fear he may have fallen into the hands of the Enemy. Others, too, are missing. The Morrigan, of course. Math has not been seen for …’ She waved a hand wearily. ‘I am afraid the Enemy has infiltrated the Court of the Soaring Spirit. That no one here is safe. What kind of a queen am I to allow that to happen? In my darker moments, I believe I do not have the ability to lead. I wonder if I should give up my title for the sake of my people. Let someone else take charge, someone better suited to lead in these trying times.’

‘Church told us all about you. No one could do a better job.’

‘You are kind, as befits a Sister of Dragons. But still, the weight of these days lies heavily on me.’ She dried her eyes, but her face remained taut. ‘I am troubled by too many mysteries. My own existence … I have dreams that I died. I cannot recall how I returned to the Far Lands from your world.’ Unsettled, she leaned towards Sophie in confidence. ‘And now I am all alone.’

‘You’re not alone. We’ll stand by you, in the way that you’ve always stood by us.’

This appeared to soothe Niamh, for she smiled warmly. They were interrupted by the crash of the door as Caitlin marched in.

‘You’ve got to see this,’ she announced.

Sophie and Niamh followed Caitlin up onto the palace’s ramparts. In the north, fire flickered in the sky near the horizon.

‘What is it?’ Sophie asked.

‘A candle, calling someone home.’ Caitlin handed Sophie a brass spyglass.

The distant flame sharpened into focus. It was the burning outline of a man. Sophie estimated it must have been hundreds of feet high.

Behind then, Niamh began to mutter, ‘They are bringing him back. They are bringing him back.’

‘Bringing who back?’ Sophie asked.

But Niamh appeared to be in a trance where something was speaking through her.

The wind carried the bitter smell of ashes, and the air of disaster drawing closer.

Instinctively, the guards averted their gaze or squirmed involuntarily as the Libertarian strode through the Heathrow Security Annexe. He knew they registered him as a blur of static on the periphery of their vision, an anomaly that their brains couldn’t quite comprehend — unless he decided otherwise, or they were spider-ridden, of course, and then they had no choice but to see him, in all his glory.

In his room, the senior officer who had been tasered by Hunter was already sweating heavily in anticipation. He glanced nervously at the Libertarian as he entered, swallowed hard, couldn’t find any words.

‘Get rid of them,’ the Libertarian said.

The man jumped from his chair and dismissed the guards. ‘There was another one …’he began hesitantly.

‘Excuses are so tiresome.’

The senior officer flinched as the Libertarian raised his hand to brush back his own hair. He said thoughtfully, ‘Don’t worry, I’m not going to hurt you. Not yet, anyway. Too messy. All those questions, doubts — it’s not conducive to the smooth running of reality. Maybe later, when you’re away from here, and I’m bored.’ He flopped into the officer’s chair and swung his feet onto the desk. ‘Two groups of Brothers and Sisters of Dragons infesting the place. That is rather an irritation.’

‘They won’t get far-’

‘Oh, they will. They’re clever and instinctive and, quite often, counterintuitive. Your breed is not built to deal with that approach.’ The Libertarian removed his sunglasses to clean off a spackle of blood. ‘If I could only remember what happens in the coming months, things would be so much easier. But there’s too much static.’ He rapped the side of his head. ‘Still, it all turns out nice, so-’ He started. ‘Are you still here? Go on, run along, before I change my mind and dismantle you.’

Alone with his thoughts, the Libertarian felt unusually uneasy. Memories of the future, memories of the past, intertwined, conflicted. Why was he thinking about the person he had been? Those days were long gone, and their loss had never really concerned him until the last few hours.

He thought of a deep, passionate kiss at the point of waking, a caress, whispered words, and he shuddered. Long gone, and glad of it.

‘Who. Am. I?’ he said to the empty room. ‘I. Am. Who?’ A palindromic existence in time.

Choosing activity to still his thoughts, he jumped to his feet. ‘I think I will tag along for a little while.’ He hummed to himself. ‘See what sparkling notions are dancing in the heads of those Brothers and Sisters of Dragons.’ Any analysis would have told him it was not the wisest course, but he was pulled by his own currents. And as if to reassure himself, he added: ‘One death at the appropriate moment is all that it will take to drive them to the point of collapse. And I know exactly which one.’

Stillness suffused the hotel. The snow of the high country had swept indoors, blanketing everything. Hunter was on his feet, the fuzzy torpor of the alcohol already gone.

‘Chill out, killer. It’s only a stopped clock.’ Dreamy and drunk, Laura stretched like a cat.

‘It’s affecting you. Fight it.’

The sharpness of his words cut through her hazy state. ‘Shit. That was weird … trippy.’

Hunter took in the details of the scene quickly. The crackling of the fire was barely audible and appeared to be coming from the end of a long tunnel. The light had an odd cast; shadows fell from no obvious source.

Laura tentatively touched the glistening wall. ‘Frost,’ she said, puzzled.

‘Stay with me,’ Hunter ordered.

‘Now you’re confusing me with someone who does what they’re told.’ She stepped closer to Hunter nonetheless.

At the bar, the barman was nowhere to be seen. Nor was the heavily bearded, red-faced drinker who only a few minutes earlier had lurched from the restaurant to start downing the hotel’s strong lager.

‘I thought I saw Shavi and Tom come in.’ Laura turned slowly. ‘I can sense that grumpy old git within fifty yards. They couldn’t have slipped by us.’

‘The frost on the walls is growing thicker,’ Hunter noted, ‘but the room isn’t getting any colder.’ He leaned over the bar. A bloody smear ran from where the barman had been standing into the back rooms. ‘So. We could follow that into obvious danger or we could walk away,’ he said.

‘As self-preservation is my default setting, I don’t think I need to answer that,’ Laura said. ‘But as being a thick-headed man is your thing, I can see which way this is going to go.’

Hunter stepped behind the bar.

‘I just hope that as you lie dying you’re tormented by guilt that you sacrificed a young and innocent woman,’ she said.