Mark Chadbourn - The Burning Man

Sophie and Caitlin were thrown to one side by Mallory as the great sword cleaved in an arc, smashing a stack and tearing through the priceless volumes. Where the tattered books fell, light radiated from them, and some jumped and shook like living things.

Mallory attacked furiously, but Llyrwyn clanged with little effect against the Slaughterman’s breast-plate. Mallory only escaped the edge of its sword by a hair’s breadth.

Sophie cursed her inability to marshal her Craft under pressure. There was movement all around her. Something with snapping jaws gnashed an inch from her face. It took her a second to realise she had only survived because Caitlin had dragged her clear.

Confusion erupted as the creatures swarmed. But from nowhere came a pure sound, like the ringing of crystal, and sudden flashing light that brought all the things to a halt. Along the central aisle surged Ogma, the light coming off him. His face was too terrible to examine, and the creatures fell away from his path as he rushed towards Janus.

A soundless explosion washed through the chamber as the two gods met. Half-blinded, Sophie grabbed Caitlin and Mallory and hauled them past the dazzled creatures. She kept her attention fixed on the blue line barely visible on the flags, driving the other two before her until they reached the entrance hall.

Caitlin was crying as they tumbled out into the night, where their horses stamped and snorted fearfully. Flecks of snow blew in the chill air. Jerzy emerged from behind a bush where he had been hiding.

‘I sensed danger. I couldn’t find you. I ran …’ He hugged Mallory pathetically. ‘I’m sorry, I’m sorry, I’m a coward.’

‘Why did Ogma do that?’ Caitlin said through her tears. ‘He didn’t know us, didn’t have any connection with us or what we wanted.’

Mallory comforted her with an arm around her shoulders, a gesture Sophie did not miss. ‘I’m guessing he thought we were worth the sacrifice.’

They clambered quickly onto their horses and set off for the Court of the Soaring Spirit. But as they thundered down the hillside, Sophie’s thoughts were not turned to the mysteries of the calendar or the threat that lay ahead, but to Mallory and Caitlin and issues of trust and betrayal.

Cairo was crushed beneath layers of oven-heat that baked the dusty streets and made even the slightest movement an effort. The languid drift of the Nile divided the city along clear architectural lines. To the west were the public gardens, wide boulevards and open spaces that allowed the great, gleaming skyscrapers and modern Government buildings to breathe easily. To the east, the winding lanes and crowded tenements jostled for space against the hundreds of age-old mosques, seething amidst a cacophony of voices, music and traffic noise, stewing in the smells of spices and cooking meat and discarded rubbish. Beneath the surface, ancient fault-lines divided it on a deeper level, between the mythological and the real, where ancient histories and barely forgotten beliefs whispered threateningly down the ages.

Church was clearly aware of those conflicts as he attempted, without much luck, to shelter from the stifling heat on the edge of the great souk, Khan el-Khalili, under the awning at a pavement table of the El-Fishawi cafe, which also went by the name of the Cafe of Mirrors. An elegant echo of more peaceful days, quietly resting down a side street off Sikkit al-Badistan, it was an oasis of reflection within the teeming market, where artists and writers talked quietly over coffee, scribbled on pads or tapped on laptops, lost to their thoughts. After the constant motion of the latest four-day leg of their journey, Church welcomed the opportunity to sit still in one place for a while.

Amidst the noise rising from the souk, Church found an odd sort of peace, and the strong, treacly coffee gave him the kick he needed to make a decision.

‘I was here five years ago.’ Hunter now occupied the formerly empty seat next to Church. ‘Bunch of extremists threatening to blow up British tourists. Sorted it out. Not pretty, but effective.’

‘How do you do that?’ Church said, exasperated.

‘Secret stealth powers.’

‘Are we safe?’

‘Got my mate Omari Maisal to check the GDSSI system. It flagged us up as suspected terrorists, so Omari did a bit of jiggery-pokery and shuffled us into a non-alert file. So if the Egyptian Secret Service are no longer looking for us, that’s about as close as we’ll get to a clean bill of health around these parts.’

‘Until somebody in high office with a spider embedded in them decides otherwise.’

‘Nothing we can do about that. Still, got a bit of satisfaction from dumping that spider-guy overboard on the cruiser from Limassol.’

‘They’re just innocent people the spiders choose to control, Hunter.’

‘Nobody’s innocent.’ He paused to watch a beautiful Egyptian woman walk by. She flashed her eyes at him. ‘Casualties of war. It’s us or them, and there’s no getting away from that.’

‘I know, but I don’t like it. We’re supposed to be protecting people.’

A waiter brought Hunter a coffee. ‘You remind me of me, before I turned into the lovable, cynical, twisted bastard I am today.’

‘How long ago was that?’

‘A long time ago.’ Hunter sipped his coffee, the cloying sweetness masking the bitter flavour that laced his words. ‘Been doing this since I left school. When I signed up, they noticed I had an … aptitude.’

‘Glad to be out of it?’

‘You’re never out of it. Yeah, it never scored high on the job satisfaction stakes. All this, it’s like a holiday after a hard year.’ He laughed silently at Church’s disbelieving expression. ‘Doing something good — clearly, definably good, something that matters — makes me feel like I’m not a total monster.’

‘You wouldn’t have been chosen to be a Brother of Dragons if you were.’

‘Maybe Existence just needed someone with my particular skills.’ He stretched lazily, soaking up the atmosphere. ‘And it’s been good hanging with you and the others. Learning a lot, about things I never really got the chance to think about. That’ll make it all worthwhile when I go out in a blaze of glory.’

‘That’s fatalistic.’

‘Pragmatic. Somebody like me, the things I’ve done, no way it’s going to end nicely. I’ve known that for a long time. You accept it. Learn to live with it. To be honest, it’s probably all for the best.’

‘You’re a difficult person to understand, Hunter.’

‘Yeah, my mate Hal used to say that.’

Through the crowd, Shavi appeared, grinning broadly. ‘There is no doubt about it. Ruth is alive.’

‘You’re sure?’ Church thought his heart was going to stop.

‘The visions I have been experiencing since Greece were confused. But I have just done a ritual in the room, and there is no doubt.’

‘What’s going on? One minute she’s dead, the next she’s alive.’ Church’s relief turned quickly to anger. He had been tearing himself apart ever since Shavi had had his first vision on the Albanian border, and only Laura had stopped him from leaving. She’d told him that if he went he was sacrificing them all to the spiders — typical Laura emotional manipulation, but it had worked.

Shavi unconsciously rubbed his alien eye. ‘I do not know the context, but let us just celebrate the fact that she is alive.’

‘The old guy’s magic ring says Veitch and your girl are somewhere here,’ Hunter said. ‘Except he’s suddenly gone off the radar. What’s that all about?’

‘I do not know, but I am nervous,’ Shavi replied. ‘We have entered another of the Great Dominions, and I am apprehensive about the forces that are awakening here.’