Mark Chadbourn - The Burning Man

‘Here!’ Distracted by Mallory’s cry, Sophie found him examining a large, leather-bound tome. Caitlin was close at his side, scrutinising the pages. Sophie flinched.

‘Serendipity.’ Mallory grinned. ‘I looked round and saw Caitlin looking at me. This book just caught my eye behind her head.’

‘Let me look,’ Sophie said sharply.

Inscribed at the top of facing pages were the words MAT and ANM. Beneath were two large circles surrounded by markings that resembled astrological symbols, drawings of the sun and the moon and writing in a language that none of them recognised.

‘Definitely looks like a calendar of some kind,’ Mallory said.

‘What is this?’ Sophie said to Ogma, who was watching them with a hint of a smile.

‘Your kind know it as the Coligny Calendar. It was a gift, from me to the tribes, to a group known as the Culture. Ancient knowledge that would help them on the long road to ascension.’

Caitlin closed her eyes to focus on Math’s images in her head. ‘I can see it. The sun and the moon turning … all these different symbols. Why did Math leave us with a vision of a calendar?’

‘What do these words mean?’ Mallory pointed to MAT and ANM.

Ogma indicated MAT. ‘In the tongue of one tribe, Maith , in another, Mad , meaning “good”.’ He circled ANM with his index finger. ‘ An Maith , or Anfad — “not good”.’

Mallory pondered on this as he studied the drawings. ‘The year is marked into two halves. This one’s black-’

‘Winter?’ Sophie suggested.

‘And this one’s light. Summer. But what’s this word between the two halves? Atenvix?’

‘Renewal.’ Ogma pronounced the word with gravity.

‘I don’t get it. What was Math thinking?’ Sophie asked.

As they debated the significance of the calendar, a loud grating rang through the halls of the library. It was the sound of a long-closed door opening.

Ogma looked around sharply, hearing other noises beyond their range. His placid face grew grave. ‘You must leave this place,’ he said. ‘Great danger has arrived.’

Mallory drew Llyrwyn. The surge of blue flames took their breath away.

‘This library is the greatest source of knowledge in all Existence,’ Ogma said. ‘Its power is a threat to the Great Authority. It remained untouched for as long as it maintained its neutrality, for the Devourer of All Things does not act as long as the constant state stays in balance.’

‘But you’ve helped us. And now you need to be taken out,’ Mallory said.

‘You didn’t have to help us,’ Sophie said. ‘Why did you risk it if you knew this was going to happen?’

‘We all have a part to play. Tiny actions may have large repercussions. Everything — every apparently insignificant thread — makes up a vital part of the great tapestry.’

‘Come with us,’ Mallory urged.

Ogma shook his head. ‘I must do what I can to protect my library.’ He nodded to them with a troubling finality and then moved quickly away.

Mallory put the book into his backpack. ‘I don’t think he’ll mind us taking this under the circumstances. Anybody remember the way out of here? This place is a maze.’

‘I can help. Just give me a moment.’ Sophie leaned her head against the stacks, eyes closed.

Distant, but drawing closer, came the measured, heavy tramp of feet. The sound was accompanied by a faint whispering that dampened their spirits, and a gradual change in the atmosphere like the building charge before an electrical storm.

Sophie jerked as if in the throes of an orgasm. At her feet, tiny azure flames crackled briefly before a single thin line of blue moved out across the floor, indicating the way to the entrance.

‘One slight problem,’ Mallory said: the light disappeared into the shadows in the direction of the approaching threat.

Mallory led the way through room after room with the noise of the intruders growing ever louder. Whatever was coming disrupted the peculiar atmosphere of the library, and the time-lost spectres jumped and broke up as if there was interference on a signal. Those that were more solid somehow sensed what was coming; in one aisle, a naked, green woman sat sobbing, tearing at her hair, her eyes wide with fear.

Signalling for the others to move off the main aisle, they hid at the far end of a stack as a deafening metallic dragging entered the chamber. With it came a sound that was not a sound, like an enormous heart beating or the steady rhythm of a war drum.

The torches cast a huge shadow down the central aisle. Sophie’s own heart began to thunder, and she thought she was going to be sick. Whatever it was carried its own noxious psychic atmosphere that assailed her emotions.

Finally she saw it. The intruder rose up above the stacks, nearly eight feet tall. Rusty iron plates hung down its front and back from chains, and its body reminded Sophie of an abattoir worker, muscular, arms smeared with blood. The chains that held the iron plates were fastened to its flesh. It wore a helmet of smaller rusty iron plates, roughly bolted together, and behind it the creature dragged a bloodstained sword as big as itself.

Mallory gripped Llyrwyn with both hands, but Sophie urged him not to attack. They both knew he wouldn’t stand a chance.

Slipping around the rear of the stacks, they passed the Iron Slaughterman. Beyond the huge figure, the library swarmed with other things just as terrifying: some had the heads of rats or wolves and stopped periodically to sniff the air until Sophie was filled with dread that they would be found; others leaked purple mist, weapons rammed into their decomposing bodies.

The companions ducked behind stacks or scurried quickly into the shadows, diverting into rooms away from the blue line to avoid being discovered. Eventually they huddled in a corner of a large chamber, unable to move forward or back.

‘There’s only four of me,’ Caitlin whimpered in her little-girl’s voice. ‘I’m missing a part. I need to be whole.’

‘Stop whining,’ Sophie hissed, and then hated herself for it.

The grating sound of the Iron Slaughterman’s sword drew near again, this time approaching along the rear of the stacks. Mallory moved them towards the central aisle, but there was also movement there.

In the brightly lit central area of the chamber near two rows of reading desks, the sound of another door opening heralded the air peeling back to reveal a rectangle of darkness like deepest space. From the reaches of the void, a white cloud roiled towards the door, revealing a figure at its heart. Emerging into the library, it hovered several feet above the flags, black robes sparkling with starlight. In one hand it held a large golden key and in the other an ironwood stick. Waves of power rolled off it, worse than the Iron Slaughterman’s aura, and it took a long moment for Sophie’s seesawing mind to settle on features it could accept.

Finally she saw bone-white skin framed by black hair, a sharp nose and slanted eyes. After a few seconds, it flipped to negative — black skin, white hair — and then back again, continuously.

‘Janus,’ Mallory whispered.

Divom Deus , the god’s God. Sophie recalled Church’s account of how he had been tortured by the dual-faced god of doorways and new beginnings in ancient Rome.

The creatures prowling the library emerged from the stacks and gathered before the god. ‘Destroy everything.’ Janus’s voice rolled out like a tolling bell.

Sophie, Mallory and Caitlin were so mesmerised by the scene that they failed to realise that the Iron Slaughterman had rounded the stacks behind them. They were only saved by Brigid shrieking through Caitlin, ‘Ware! Run! Run!’