Mark Chadbourn - The Hounds of Avalon

‘We’re nearly there.’ The pilot turned towards them, his voice muffled through the scarf he wore in the chilly cab. ‘You still want me to set you down on the village green outside the estate? It’s a long walk.’

Hal nodded. He knew it would be a hard hike to their destination through the snow, but he didn’t want to draw attention to what they were doing by bringing the chopper in too close to the hall. He had a growing sense of paranoia that the enemy knew what he was doing and would attempt to stop him.

The pilot brought the chopper down on the common at Milford, the tiny village next to the Shugborough estate, now buried somewhere beneath the thick snow. Hal and Samantha jumped out and hurried away as the chopper rose quickly into the sky. That part of the Staffordshire countryside had been designated a potential danger zone because of its proximity to the wild expanse of Cannock Chase, which had become home to so many inexplicable creatures and events since the Fall. Hal checked his watch: they had an hour and a half before the pilot returned.

It was a clear night, sharp as a wolf’s tooth, with the stars glittering overhead and the moon bright. The crunch of their feet in the snow was the only sound. When they reached the trees bordering the estate, Hal looked back to see their line of footprints scarring the pristine white cover. The whole countryside was at peace, still and sleepy as a Christmas card. There was an affecting beauty to it; so much of humanity’s mark had been obscured and what did remain — the few houses, a lone road sign — nestled in the snow as if gradually becoming part of the natural world.

Stone gates marked the entrance to a long lane with trees on either side forming a thick cover overhead. Even with the moonlight reflected from the snow, it was unsettlingly dark. Anything could be watching their passage, waiting for the right moment to strike, and they wouldn’t know until it was upon them. Samantha felt it, too, for they both stopped on the threshold. Hal felt her fumbling for his hand, which she gave a quick squeeze.

‘Still glad you came?’ He couldn’t help whispering.

‘Of course. I just didn’t think we’d be coming at night… or that it would be so isolated.’

‘You can wait at one of the houses in the village, if you like.’

‘No,’ she said adamantly. ‘Let’s do it.’ She stepped on to the lane before him.

Their progress along the road was slow. It wound around the edge of a steep bank so that soon the sight of the gate was lost, yet it was still impossible to see how much further they had to go. Both of them jumped at the slightest noise in the sound-deadened world. Just branches creaking under the weight of the snow, foxes and badgers foraging for food, Hal told himself. But he wasn’t so sure. There was a strange, oppressive atmosphere that grew stronger the further they progressed along the lane. It felt very much as though they were moving away from the world they knew into one where some dark power waited for them.

Samantha stayed so close to Hal that their shoulders were touching most of the time. Hal regretted bringing her along; not that she couldn’t look after herself — she would probably be more effective in a fight than he would — but because he couldn’t imagine her being in any danger, and he would never forgive himself if anything happened to her.

The atmosphere was so tense that most of his energy was taken up searching the trees and listening for fugitive echoes, other feet breaking the snow behind or in front. Sometimes he was sure he heard them; other times he convinced himself it was just his imagination.

Finally the lane broke through the trees and deposited them on an area of flat, open countryside. Shugborough Hall was visible in the distance against the skyline, a large, brooding presence.

With the threatening atmosphere of the lane behind them, their mood lightened. Samantha even laughed in a release of tension, then apologised in case Hal thought she was going mad.

As they trudged across the white plain, Samantha said, ‘Have you any idea what’s happened to Hunter?’

Hal had considered that question long and hard and guessed that Hunter was embroiled in heroism somewhere, fighting the good fight. ‘No idea,’ he replied blithely. ‘You know Hunter. He’s a law to himself.’

‘That’s the problem. They’re talking about treason this time. Some are saying he’s deserted.’

‘Do you believe that?’

‘No. Of course not. He’d be the last man out. What about all those rumours that he freed the prisoner and they took off together?’

Hal guessed this was probably true. Hunter wouldn’t have told Hal his plans so that he would be able to stand up to questioning, but it was logical that he’d seek the support of another Brother of Dragons. ‘Why would he do that?’

‘Oh, I have no idea,’ Samantha said with frustration. ‘I can’t understand him at all.’

They fell silent as the hall loomed up before them. The mansion house looked empty, the facade gleaming as white as the snow all around, the ten-columned portico hinting at the mysteries of ancient Greece. Two wings spread out on either side, giving the building an impressive bulk. It looked out across the sweeping fields, grand yet stern and brooding.

‘Do you know where we’ve got to go?’ Samantha whispered.

Hal had researched the hall and its history in such detail that he could find his way around the rambling old pile blindfolded. The quickest way to the Shepherds’ Monument was to head to the formal gardens on the far side. But that would entail walking past the front of the mansion house with its windows like dead eyes, and that spooked him for some reason he couldn’t explain.

‘We go this way.’ He indicated the outline of the nearest path that wound through shrubs past the side of the building. ‘It’s called the Lady Walk, takes you through to the gardens at the back. If we follow it around, it’ll bring us to the Shepherds’ Monument.’

They moved through another area of thick trees where the feeling of being watched returned in force, but then the path led them back into the open along the banks of the River Sow, its waters slow-moving and black. On the other bank, the floodplain stretched out towards Milford, the snow unmarked.

‘Nobody around,’ Hal said to reassure them both.

Another feeling descended on them as they left the cover of the trees and moved along the river bank, not oppressive or threatening this time, but still potent. It felt as though they had pushed through a veil into another room where the mood was alive with numerous possibilities.

‘Can you feel it?’ Samantha said, her voice hushed but intrigued. ‘It feels as if something’s about to happen.’

The sensation was so strong that Hal looked around to see if they had moved through some kind of physical barrier. To their right, they were presented with a vast area of formal lawns with stone steps leading the eye to the magnificent rear aspect of the mansion house. In the foreground was an ornate pond with a fountain in the form of a cherub and a swan.

A ruined monument rose up on the riverbank on their left, but as they passed it, Samantha grabbed Hal’s arm tightly and grew rigid as she looked up at a statue of a druid mounted on the top.

‘It moved,’ she said. ‘I’m sure it did.’

Hal watched the statue for a long moment. Something about the face unsettled him. ‘We’re just getting jumpy,’ he said.

‘You’re right — I’m sorry.’ But Samantha couldn’t help glancing back several times as they continued on their way.

The crunch of their footsteps echoed loudly over the still gardens as the path wound back towards the house once more, passing into another heavily wooded area. A strange building shaped like a Chinese pagoda appeared out of the gloom to their left.