Mark Chadbourn - The Hounds of Avalon

‘What else can we do?’ the foreign secretary said resignedly. ‘Bang the drums loudly. And off we go to war.’

Mallory’s whole body ached from the wounds he had sustained on Cadbury Hill and then from his rough treatment at the hands of his captors. But he had experienced worse, particularly in the grim days during his training as a Knight Templar at Salisbury Cathedral when the Church authorities had decided he was a troublemaker who couldn’t be trusted to keep the Faith. He’d survived then and he’d do so now. Life had hardened him since his younger days, the times to which his subconscious would never allow him to return. Before, the death of the woman he loved would have left him broken and pathetic; now his grief was an icy foundation deep inside him. On it he piled cold hatred and bitter thoughts of revenge, building a temple through which he would find an exit.

But even there, in his bleak cell, the miserable, haunting image wouldn’t leave him alone. A burst of fire in the darkness, like the breath of a Fabulous Beast. It would break into his mind unbidden, stirring the deepest recesses of his memory where all the nasty things lay hidden. A notification of his death, now tied inextricably to the death of Sophie. Death was all around him, all the time.

The emotions around the memory had grown even more intense, as if Sophie had helped him to keep them in check, and now that she was gone the door had been thrown open wide. Sometimes he would pummel the side of his head to try to drive the desperate thoughts away, or bite his lip until the blood ran.

And sometimes in his weaker moments he felt as though he was falling apart. A hard focus on revenge for Sophie’s murder was all he had to cling to.

The room was spartan: a chair, a chemical toilet, a cheap collapsible bed. He guessed it had been an office once, before the powers that be had turned it into a holding cell. There were others nearby; every morning and night he could hear his jailers moving along the corridor, silently distributing food. Yet the sounds that came from the other cells disturbed him immensely: inhuman shrieks and cries, an alien cacophony. He was in prison with beasts. Was that how his captors perceived him?

The chains on his wrists suggested so, though they’d only been put on after he’d attempted to kick the door down and then head-butted a guard. Some people had no sense of humour.

Mallory’s face hardened at the sound of drawing bolts. The door swung open to reveal the man who had led the team that had captured him, the most unlikely leader of a security force that Mallory could imagine. He’d heard the guards mention his name — Hunter — but they all spoke of him with a respect bordering on fear, despite his dandyish appearance.

‘Here for the torture?’ Mallory said.

‘We don’t do torture as a rule, but keep asking — you might convince me to make an exception.’ Hunter closed the door with a surreptitious glance into the corridor. ‘Unofficial visit. Stand at ease.’

Mallory clanked the manacles attached to his ankles. ‘Quite the comedian.’

‘I like to keep the prisoners entertained. Raises morale.’ Hunter spun the chair around and sat on it backwards.

‘You know I’m not going to answer any questions — with or without torture.’

‘Fair enough. Then you die with us.’

Mallory eyed Hunter obliquely, but couldn’t read the truth — or otherwise — of the statement.

Hunter stared at his boots for a second or two, then said, ‘I’m sorry about your girlfriend. I mean that. She shouldn’t have died. The wanker who did it has been punished. Severely. I know that won’t make it right, but I reckon that to the kind of bloke you seem to be, it will mean something.’

‘And how are you getting punished? You were his leader. I thought that’s where the buck’s supposed to stop.’ The cold anger in Mallory’s voice made Hunter look up sharply.

The two of them stared at each other, measuring, judging. Mallory saw some of himself in Hunter, but that didn’t lessen his feelings.

‘Don’t come here talking about Sophie,’ Mallory said eventually. ‘It’ll only make me want to kill you quicker.’

‘All right, I won’t talk about her. But I meant what I said.’

‘You know what, I’m sick of authorities messing with my life. Back in Salisbury it was the Church. Here it’s little boy soldiers who still think the rule of Government means something. Have a look at the world out there: it’s chaos, everywhere. You’re just playing at this, pretending it’s still like it was before the Fall, while reality passes you by.’ Mallory felt his repressed emotions about Sophie fighting for release. He forced himself to remain calm. ‘Why have you gone to all this trouble to bring me here? I’m a nobody. You’re just wasting resources-’

‘You’re not a nobody. You’re one of the most important people in Britain at the moment.’

Mallory grew still; he could see the seriousness in Hunter’s eyes.

‘Do you know what I mean?’ Hunter pressed.

When Mallory said nothing, Hunter stood up to face Mallory on his level, cracked his knuckles, then proceeded to pace while he spoke. ‘I’ve just come back from Scotland. We’ve been invaded. I don’t know what they are, but they’re worse than all the things that came with the Fall. A friend of mine, he was warned by some kind of Higher Power. It told him we’d been noticed.’

Mallory flinched. Hunter saw it from the corner of his eye and struck like a rattlesnake. ‘You’ve heard it, too.’

Mallory considered not replying, but it was pointless. ‘I met one of the gods on my travels. She said the very same words. We’ve been noticed. Something is rising up from the edge of the universe to destroy us.’

‘Well, it’s here. Or at least the advance guard are. I saw them. Things don’t look too good.’

‘You want the honest truth? Now that Sophie’s gone I don’t really care. Maybe it would be better if the whole human race was wiped out. Even after we’ve been taught a nasty lesson by nature, we’re still venal, malicious, hypocritical, back-stabbing, selfish killers.’

‘That’s just me. Don’t judge everybody by the same yardstick.’ Hunter quickly realised that his feeble attempts at humour weren’t working and changed tack. ‘OK, you say that now, but I reckon that deep down you don’t believe it. I’m a good judge of character, have to be in my job — life or death decisions, see? Not like meeting someone in a pub. And I say you’re decent. Someone who’d do the right thing in any situation. And what proves me correct is that you’re a Brother of Dragons. Whatever power put you in that exclusive club is going to go for good men and women. Not a little bit good. The best. Heroes. That’s quite a pedigree, and I’d say it’s a huge burden to shoulder, but you’ll live up to it or you wouldn’t have been chosen in the first place. See — circular logic when you say it like that.’

Mallory lay down on the bed and closed his eyes. Suddenly he felt weary. Obligation. Responsibility. That’s all it had been for so long. He wanted a rest.

‘Another thing,’ Hunter continued. ‘This thing that’s noticed us… I reckon it’s the reason you exist. The Brothers and Sisters of Dragons, defenders of humanity, were created to stop this thing that wants to eradicate us. Make sense?’

‘Here’s a little irony,’ Mallory said. ‘There are rules of Existence you don’t even know about. Patterns. Things have to be in place for everything to work, like some big magic ritual. And for the Brothers and Sisters of Dragons to do their business, there has to be five of us. And you’ve killed one. So congratulations. When they take stock of who doomed the human race, your name will be at the top of the list.’