Mark Chadbourn - The Hounds of Avalon

Though the thick snow made his leg muscles burn, Hal ran without stopping until he reached the halfway point between the house and the place where the lane entered the trees. He allowed himself one brief glance back: something that looked like a large brown bear was moving away on all fours at great speed.

Already the memory of the Bloodeye had faded from Hal’s mind, but the Lords would haunt him for ever, and the knowledge that they were hunting for him filled him with dread. Yet he had learned an important part of the mystery that he was sure was key to the survival of humanity and he was increasingly optimistic that the final pieces would soon fall into place.

Ahead of him, Samantha was just making her way into the trees. And there was his other great hope: he’d saved her life, and if he could help save the day, then perhaps she would finally see him as more than a good friend. Her love was worth fighting for more than anything else.

Needles of ice blasted into the parts of Hunter’s face that he hadn’t been able to cover as he led his horse blindly into the blizzard. It had been blowing with fierce intensity for several hours and he desperately needed to find shelter, but it was night and no lights glimmered anywhere. He could no longer feel his feet or hands, despite the heavy boots and thick gloves. His mount’s large body mass coped with the cold better than he did, but there was a limit to how much it could endure. Hunter had only made it this far with the help of the horse’s strength; on foot he wouldn’t stand a chance. His lifeless, frozen body would be covered by snow within the hour, never to be found again.

In his left hand, he held the lantern up high, but the illumination barely spread more than three feet ahead. He was using it more in the hope that someone would see it and welcome him out of the storm than to light his way, but he knew that was a dim prospect.

He was regretting his decision to let events lead him to his destination. There, so close to death, it felt childish and nonsensical, not the positive affirmation he had entertained when he had first embarked on his path. His choice was going to end up killing him.

From North Hinksey he’d taken the A34 and then the A423, moving north before getting lost in the snow. He had been hoping to reach Banbury and some shelter where he could rest a while, but there was little chance of that now.

Just visible in the field next to the road was an old barn. Snow heaped against its walls and lay heavy on the roof, but the door was accessible. It looked poor shelter, but it was all he had, and after several minutes of clearing snow with frozen hands he could open the door wide enough to gain access for himself and his horse.

Inside, it was as barely adequate as he had imagined. Cold wind blew through broken planks around the door, but there were numerous bales of hay that he could position to create a smaller shelter within the larger structure. His horse perked up slightly at being out of the freezing night, so Hunter left it alone long enough to break up some old, discarded furniture for a fire. The barn was large and draughty enough for the smoke to escape and soon Hunter was sitting next to the blaze, pondering his bleak immediate future. It wasn’t long before the warmth and the weariness took their toll.

Not long after he had slipped into an exhausted sleep, he woke with a sudden start, calling out his father’s name. Instantly, he realised he wasn’t alone.

A hulking figure sat on the other side of the fire, its face obscured by the drifting smoke. Hunter’s hand quickly went to his gun, but the figure didn’t appear concerned. It was difficult to assess the man’s height in a sitting position, but Hunter guessed he must have been well over seven feet tall. The smoke cleared a little to reveal long black hair and a black beard and eyes just as dark, though burning intensely.

‘Stay your hand, Brother of Dragons,’ the giant said in a deep, resonant voice.

Hunter’s fingers hovered over the weapon for a moment longer, then retreated. ‘Who are you? The Tooth Fairy?’

‘I am called the Caretaker.’

Hunter recalled the encounter with this being that Hal had related to him just before his life had taken a turn into the twilight zone.

The Caretaker pointed ominously to the lantern; its flame flared as his finger came close. ‘I am the lamplighter. Even when darkness falls, I am there to ensure that a single flame still burns.’

Hunter lounged against a hay bale and rubbed the sleep from his eyes. ‘Mallory thought I was crazy just wandering around, waiting for something to happen. Well, I bet he’s the one frozen up to his neck in a ditch somewhere. So you’re one of the gods, right? One of the Tuatha De Danann?’

The Caretaker gave a faint, enigmatic smile. ‘There are Higher Powers. There is always something higher. The Goddess has returned, reunited with her male reflection.’ He watched Hunter’s face intently. ‘I am an intermediary. A guide-’

‘Yes, I get it. A Caretaker. You put the chairs away after the party.’

Hunter expected a negative response, but the Caretaker simply nodded. ‘I do. And I put them out before the party begins. It is my job to ensure that the master plan progresses smoothly. A higher plan so vast and timeless that it is beyond your comprehension. You can barely see even a part of it from your narrow perspective, Fragile Creature. Yet you, and your brothers and sisters, have a large part to play.’

‘You see, there’s one thing you’re not getting. I’m not a reliable person. I like to drink. I like to have sex, preferably with as many women as possible. I like to raise hell. Not so hot on doing the right thing. Moral compass — needle all over the place.’

Hunter shifted as the Caretaker stared right into him. For a second, he had the impression that he was a small boy again, standing before his father; the image was so potent that Hunter could almost smell the starch of his father’s dress uniform.

‘You in a position to tell me exactly what’s going on?’ Hunter asked.

The Caretaker explained carefully about the Void, its nature and what it was planning, making it plain to Hunter that only the Brothers and Sisters of Dragons could oppose it. ‘The lantern is called the Wayfinder,’ the Caretaker continued. Hunter glanced at the blue flame as events began to fall into place; he had been meant to find it, of course — it was important. ‘It is my lantern,’ the Caretaker continued, ‘and it is a part of Existence — not a lantern at all, but that is how you see it.’

‘That flame,’ Hunter began, ‘blue…’

The Caretaker nodded. ‘It is a link with the Pendragon Spirit. The power in the Wayfinder is a part of you, Brother of Dragons. The flame points the way. Follow it and it will lead you to the person you seek.’

‘That’s handy. It would have been nice to know that before I started going around in circles in a blizzard, freezing my arse off.’

‘Existence helps when you truly need it, Brother of Dragons. For the most part you must rely on your own strengths.’

‘I get it — free will.’ Hunter thought about this for a moment. ‘OK. I like that. So now I’ve got a direction. How am I going to get where I’m going through this snow with a nag that’s almost dead on its feet? You don’t have a magic snowplough tucked away somewhere, do you?’

‘The blizzard will break tomorrow. You will have a brief period for travel before the next storm sets in. There is food for you and your horse in a farm further along the road. The occupants died when their fuel ran out.’