Mark Chadbourn - The Hounds of Avalon

Hunter felt strangely calmed by the giant’s presence. ‘All you need to tell me now is that everything is going to work out fine.’

The Caretaker shook his head slowly.

‘What’s the point in having a master plan if it doesn’t all pan out nicely?’

‘If everything occurred as it was meant to occur, there would be no need for you, would there, Brother of Dragons? There would be no need for Fragile Creatures, or gods, or… anything. This would just be a picture, never changing. There must be a chance for success or failure.’

‘Why?’

The Caretaker gave his enigmatic smile once again. ‘Existence has put its faith in you, Brother of Dragons.’ He stood up, drawing himself to his full height, and his shadow fell across Hunter. ‘Your light burns brightly in the dark. Existence has chosen well.’

He stepped away from the fire towards the door, but then a cloud of smoke obscured him, and when it cleared, he had gone. Hunter stared into the fire for a while, ruminating over what he had been told, and then he shrugged, lay down and went straight to sleep.

‘What do you think is happening back in our world?’ Thackeray sat in the vast blood-red hall of the Court of Soul’s Ease, listening to the sounds of conflict coming from the walls.

Sophie stood nearby. She was trying to prepare herself for what she was about to do, but it was difficult to concentrate with the bizarre acoustics of the hall, where even the quietest whisper reverberated loudly. ‘Time runs differently here. In our world, a second could have passed. Or years… maybe even decades.’

‘That’s why you’re so keen to get back?’

Sophie sighed. ‘It’s hard to tell whether all this is futile. Perhaps the worst has already happened back home. There might not even be a world to return to.’

They fell silent, allowing the clatter of swords and axes to take over. The battle sounds were punctuated by dull, vibrating eruptions as projectiles crashed against the walls, launched from one of the many mysterious siege machines the enemy had in their employ. It was only a matter of time before the court fell. The small, swarthy men scaled the walls like spiders in wave after wave. The Tuatha De Danann, led by Lugh but invigorated by Caitlin’s ferocity, drove them back time and again, but sheer force of numbers meant that the defenders would inevitably be overwhelmed sooner or later.

Sophie had to make her move before it was too late, but Caitlin was the dangerous x-factor. If she discovered what Sophie was planning, the outcome would likely be bloody.

‘How are you coping with Caitlin?’ Sophie asked hesitantly.

Thackeray rubbed at the tension in his neck; he was a man out of his depth. ‘I’m not coping. She looks like Caitlin, she talks like her, but when I stare into her eyes, I can’t tell whether she wants to have sex or slit my throat.’

‘I know it’s none of my business, but I can’t work out your relationship.’

‘It’s complicated.’ Thackeray was going to leave it there, but the emotional pressure was too much. ‘I met her just after her husband and son died. I fell in love with her straight away, the minute I saw her — I know it sounds pathetic, but it’s true. She’s got this amazing quality, something special buried really deep. It got me in an instant and I couldn’t let go if I tried. I think she loves me, too… or at least likes me a lot, and I know this is pathetic, too, but I’d even settle for that.’ He sighed. ‘But it’s still too soon after her tragedy. All the grief and guilt are still swirling around. I understand that. Maybe someday.’

‘That’s what I thought you’d say.’ Sophie had grown more and more impressed with Thackeray, not because he was romantic and sensitive, but because he had enough steel in him to admit it.

‘How about you?’ Thackeray said. ‘Boyfriend back home?’

‘Yes. He’s a Brother of Dragons, too.’

‘At least you’ve got some common ground, then,’ he said ruefully. ‘Sometimes you lot seem like you come from another planet. You’re missing him?’

‘More than you know. Nothing’s going to stop me from getting back to him.’ Sophie flinched as the missing portion of her emotional memory made all her recollections of Mallory dissipate like mist in the sun.

They were interrupted by the thunder of the enormous oaken doors being flung open. Caitlin marched in clutching two axes, with Harvey hurrying close behind, almost bent double under the weight of a variety of weapons.

‘We need axes. Lots of axes,’ Caitlin announced.

‘She’s going to be the death of me.’ Harvey dumped the weapons on the floor with a clatter. ‘Here — take your pick.’

‘Arrows aren’t effective when they’re coming up the walls,’ Caitlin said. ‘And we probably haven’t got enough anyway, even with the fletchers working overtime. But axes…’ She wielded an axe in each hand. ‘We can just decapitate them as they come over the top. The falling bodies will dislodge others. Two axes to each man doubles the kill.’

‘Tiring, though,’ Sophie observed.

‘We do what we have to,’ Caitlin said coldly. ‘I’m going back to the ramparts. Coming?’

‘We’ll follow on.’ Sophie subtly motioned to Thackeray to stay behind and hoped Caitlin hadn’t seen it.

Caitlin ordered Harvey to pick up a selection of the weapons and follow her. He meekly obliged.

Once they had departed, Thackeray said curiously, ‘What are you planning?’

‘There’s a way out of here. A way back home.’

Thackeray was stunned silent for a second, then said, nonplussed, ‘Why didn’t you tell the others?’

‘Because it’s not as simple as it sounds. I’ve been weighing it up ever since I found out about it. I still don’t think it’s necessarily the right way to go forward, but we don’t have a choice any more.’

‘It’s dangerous?’

‘Yes. Morally, emotionally, probably physically if Caitlin finds out.’ Sophie steeled herself; she couldn’t back out now. ‘There’s a place called the Watchtower, a physical building in some kind of space between the worlds. It’s possible to reach it from anywhere, and access anywhere from it, as long as you have the right key.’

‘And you have the right key?’

‘And the right keyhole,’ she said with dark humour. ‘I can use my Craft to open a way to the Watchtower. Everything I learned back home works so much more effectively in T’ir n’a n’Og. I can be powerful here, Thackeray, really powerful, given the right impetus.’

‘You’re scaring me now.’ Thackeray’s troubled, dark eyes searched her face.

‘Then I’d better get to the point. Imagine the Craft as a bullet. I’m the gun. But you need some kind of focused energy to send the bullet shooting out of the barrel. For small things, you can often do it with the mind — say, with words that set free subconscious energy. Ritual works better. But the best is sex. The energy freed during sex is like rocket fuel, to mix my metaphors.’

‘You need to have sex?’

‘With you.’

Thackeray’s expression was almost comical. ‘No, no,’ he protested, holding up his hands subconsciously as a barrier. ‘I mean, it’s not that you’re not an attractive woman. You are. Of course you are. But… it’s Caitlin…’

‘I know.’

‘I love her.’

‘I know.’

‘Harvey would do it in a flash.’

Sophie shook her head. ‘It’s not just about having sex, Thackeray. It has to be with the right person… the right battery. Bluntly, Harvey isn’t the one. You’ve got a lot of sexual energy ready to be released.’

‘I don’t know if I should be flattered or embarrassed.’ He jumped to his feet and ranged around the room anxiously. ‘There’s got to be another way.’