Mark Chadbourn - The Hounds of Avalon

‘This must be what it’s like over there,’ Hal said ecstatically. Then another thought struck him: ‘We could use this place to cross over!’

They followed the path around in a state of wonder. Inside the Chinese House, coloured shadows moved across the walls. It looked to Hal like dragons winding sinuously across a landscape; there was fire and light and a tremendous sense of wellbeing.

At the ruined monument by the river, the statue of the druid was now gone, replaced by the faun, who perched on the highest point playing his pipes. Hal wondered if the druid was the faun, locked in stone, waiting to be released by the power from T’ir n’a n’Og. Nearby, the fountain that had earlier been dead and dismal in the snow was now gushing, but instead of water Blue Fire flowed from the swan’s mouth, joining the network of interconnecting lines that spread out over the landscape.

‘This is amazing!’ Samantha said in awe. ‘This is what it could be like always! Can you feel it, Hal? It’s like… healing. Like I’m getting a shot of something that’s making me fit enough to do anything.’

‘I like that,’ he replied. ‘ This is what it could always be like.’

They spent the next half-hour wandering the garden in a state of awe, engulfed by sights and sounds and sensations that were so powerful it felt like a drug trip. There was magic in everything. The little creatures, the nature sprites, the tree spirits were everywhere, as if every living thing and every object had a shadow life, hidden away until a switch was thrown that allowed the true self to come out into the open. The power was so evident, so great, that Hal was convinced the war could be won if only humanity could tap into what had been released into the garden.

That was part of the secret of the Shepherds’ Monument, he was sure, and it was linked in some way to the part yet undiscovered. It was a double mystery: the reversal of the Poussin painting on the relief was the clue. Two sides, both inextricably bound together. They had broken the symbolic code of one side, the mystery of the reversed painting, which was tied into the anagram of the legend — I Tego Arcana Dei — Begone! I conceal the secrets of God. Now they knew what the secret of God was: the Blue Fire, hidden in force in the Otherworld.

But the flipside of the mystery, the true side, still escaped him. Et in Arcadia Ego — And in Arcadia I Exist? If the ‘Ego’ wasn’t Death — and he was sure it wasn’t — then who was it?

Hal’s thoughts were disturbed by a sudden change in the ambience of the summery garden. A note of tension intruded on the calm, like jagged violins in a pastoral musical passage. Samantha felt it, too, for she looked around uncomfortably.

The music of the pan pipes faded, and when Hal glanced at the ruin he saw that the faun was gone and the little flying people were rapidly disappearing into the trees. A stillness descended.

‘I think we should get out of here right now,’ Hal said.

But as they hurried along the path, a shadowy figure emerged from the thick vegetation ahead of them. It was huge, its outline moving as if seen through a heat haze. As it stepped forward, Hal was appalled to see that it was made up of the writhing bodies of animals — badgers and foxes, rabbits and mice — all melded together to give the thing shape, yet each creature still alive in some way: jaws snapped, eyes revolved.

Crying out in horror, Samantha threw herself backwards on to the ground. Hal hauled her back to her feet and turned the other way, but from the direction of the Chinese House another figure was drawing closer, this one constructed entirely out of birds.

‘What are they?’ Samantha said, her horror a keen edge in her voice.

The clearest escape route was along the broad walk across the ornamental lawns leading to the mansion house. Hal propelled Samantha in that direction. As they ran past the fountain, Hal saw that the expression on the statue of the cherub clutching the swan had now transformed into one of abject terror.

Leaping up the rows of steps, they reached the garden doors. Through the glass, the interior was in darkness and empty. Hal yanked at the handles and the doors swung open with surprising ease.

‘Why do you want to go in there?’ Samantha said, frantically looking around to see where their pursuers were. Both obscene creatures were rapidly drawing closer, but their forms clearly precluded them from running or from any particular agility.

‘We can go straight through the hall and out of the front door. Quickest way back to the lane.’

Inside, the house still revelled in its grandeur. Classical works of art hung on the walls, antique furniture lined the corridors, covered with vases and objets d’art gathering dust, all untouched by looters who would only have been interested in food and weapons.

‘What are those things?’ Samantha gasped, her eyes inexorably drawn to the monstrous creatures.

‘The enemy’s lieutenants. Hunter called them the Lord of Flesh and the Lord of Birds in his report,’ Hal replied.

‘The enemy shouldn’t have reached here yet.’

Samantha was right, but Hal didn’t want to frighten her by replying: none of the zombie-like troops were crossing the adjoining land; the Lords were alone, which suggested to Hal that they were there for a purpose — and the purpose was him. Was it because they somehow knew he was a Brother of Dragons and they were determined to eradicate the main line of defence? Was that possible? If so, he was in more danger than he’d ever anticipated.

Hal noticed something else that was just as disturbing. The lines of Blue Fire burning along the ground warped wherever they came into contact with the approaching enemy, like opposing polarities of a magnet. In the distance, the lines had already disappeared and the snowy night landscape had returned to normal, as if the energy had been cancelled out somehow.

‘Don’t worry. We’ll be out of here in no time,’ Hal said. But as they skidded across the polished floor to the front of the house, Hal realised the lie in his words. Two more lieutenants were approaching — the Lord of Lizards, green and scaly against the snowy background, and the Lord of Bones, a rictus grin adding a macabre touch to its hideous appearance.

‘Oh.’ Samantha’s voice was small and fragile, but devastating to Hal with its awareness of the grim reality they both faced.

‘Don’t worry,’ he said desperately. ‘Don’t worry.’

With Samantha clutching his hand, he raced down a dark corridor off the hall and turned into the library. Ancient books untouched in decades lined the walls beneath an ornate plasterwork ceiling. The windows, though, were barred and Hal quickly pulled Samantha out of the room and back to the hall. The Lord of Flesh was on the veranda at the garden doors and the Lord of Bones was ascending the steps at the front.

‘OK, OK. I know what I’m doing,’ Hal said, as much to reassure himself as Samantha. All the windows on the ground floor would be barred, but not necessarily the ones upstairs. But he was gambling with their lives: if he was wrong, they would be trapped on the first floor until the four Lords came for them.

He had no other choice. He dragged Samantha towards the main hall staircase and they took the steps two at a time.

‘I’m sorry I got you into this,’ Hal said when they reached the first floor. ‘I shouldn’t have brought you.’

‘I decided to come,’ Samantha said. ‘And don’t give up yet.’ Despite her bravado, though, she couldn’t disguise the tremor of fear in her voice.

They ran into a room off the upstairs hall and Hal managed to wrench a window open. A blast of freezing air rushed in, followed by a loud crashing as the doors downstairs were rent apart. They stepped out on to the roof of the columned porch, beyond which was a long drop to the hard forecourt below. Hal headed to his left where there was a short jump to another flat area of roof on the wing, but Samantha held back.