Marc Chadbourn - The Devil in green

Miller ventured a little information about his parents and his childhood in Swindon, but when he began to talk about the girlfriend who had abandoned him, he dried up and briefly turned gloomy again. But after a moment's silence, he piped up, unable to contain his emotion. 'I'm so glad I found you all,' he said. 'I've never had friends like you. You saved my life…' He looked to Mallory. '… you've taught me things, you've cheered me up. You've been like family… better than family. This is what life is all about, you know.' The honest swell of emotion brought tears to Miller's eyes and he blinked them away unselfconsciously. 'If it all goes bad from here, it's been worthwhile.'

'Don't talk so pissed-up,' Gardener chided gently, though it was obvious he was touched by Miller's comments.

Mallory was about to join in the teasing of Miller when a movement caught his eye deep in the heart of the shadows at the back of the cellar. He held up a warning hand and the others grew instantly alert. 'Who's there?' he called out.

His voice bounced off the arched ceiling and rustled around the casks. Nothing moved. Slowly, he stood up and drew his sword. The others followed suit, turning to face the back of the room.

As they stood alert, Miller suddenly shuddered. He looked around at the others with wide eyes. 'Did you feel that? Cold… as if someone rubbed against me…'

The hairs on the back of Mallory's neck stood erect; iron filings filled his mouth and the back of his throat. He could feel something… an invisible presence… moving around them.

'It's over there,' Daniels whispered, pointing to another part of the cellar.

'No, there.' Gardener nodded to the opposite side of the room.

'It's all over,' Mallory said.

Now they could see he was right: there was movement on every side just beyond the edge of the shadows. It seemed to Mallory that whatever was there wasn't quite in the world but rather a step removed, as if it were behind a veil trying to find a way through.

'Stand firm,' Gardener said, all trace of drunkenness gone from him.

'It's the ghosts,' Miller said in a hollow voice.

And once he said it, Mallory could see. The shadowy forms had the shape of men in long robes. They moved lethargically, roaming back and forth around the cellar's edge, seemingly oblivious to the knights. Pinpricks of green, the lamps of eyes, glowed with increasing force. They were coming closer.

'Bloody hell, let's get out of here,' Gardener hissed. They dropped their bottles and cups and ran up the steps, slamming the door behind them.

They stumbled out into the biting cold of the night, where they rested against the stone walls, taking deep, calming breaths.

'Bloody hell, that was spooky,' Gardener said.

'Did you feel it?' Daniels adjusted his eye-patch. 'They were coming for us. They wanted to-'

'Punish us,' Mallory completed. They all understood it on some level they couldn't explain.

Miller looked from one to the other, his eyes wide and white in the dark. 'I thought the demons couldn't get in here.'

Despite himself, Mallory gave Miller a reassuring pat on the back. 'Those things out there can't. These were different.'

'How?' Miller said desperately.

A brief flurry of snow stung Mallory's face; the weather was taking a turn for the worse. 'The things in there were wearing-'

'Habits and clerics' robes,' Daniels interrupted. 'They're our own.'

Miller looked even more shocked at this. 'But-'

'Who knows what the hell's going on around here?' Mallory said.

They shivered in silence until the wind died enough for them to hear the clamour of fighting just beyond the walls. The nightly attack was beginning to wind down.

'Let's take a look,' Mallory said.

As they neared the walls, they were surprised to see frantic activity. The guards were desperately setting up sheet metal, hammering in nails to hold it in place.

'What's going on?' Daniels called out.

One of the guards turned, anxiety gnawing at his features. 'Repairs. The wall started to buckle here.' They all knew why he looked so worried: that had never happened before.

'Either they're getting stronger or we're getting weaker,' Mallory said.

The guard turned back to his work, his voice echoing back to them. 'They nearly broke it down,' he said. 'They nearly got in here.'

The peal of bells at noon should have sounded joyful, yet it had an oddly leaden note to it as if it were heralding a warning instead of a celebration. The entire brotherhood, packed into the cathedral for the announcement, waited with a measure of hope. Mallory had already decided that what was to come was a foregone conclusion, though no one believed him. 'Stefan hasn't got enough experience in the Church,' Daniels said. 'They'll go for a continuity candidate, somebody with the weight of Cornelius.'

Mallory tried to explain that, as in all shifts of power, it would simply go to whoever wanted it badly enough. Daniels had countered that Stefan had professed he didn't want it at all — he was happy with his lot. Mallory praised him for a life untainted with cynicism — or reality. They agreed to differ.

The Church elders sat impassively in the quire, though Mallory thought he saw a hardness in some of their features that suggested which way the wind had blown.

It was Julian, the man who should have been Cornelius's anointed successor but who was probably too young and too pleasant, who made the announcement. 'The Chapter of Canons has deliberated long and hard over the last twenty-four hours. The choice of who should become our new bishop was never going to be easy.' His voice was strong, filling the vast structure. 'We took advice from some of the most learned and wisest members of our Church before reaching our decision. We considered the merits of many before coming to our conclusion. In the end, it was a harder decision than anyone dreamed, but it must be one that you all accept, for anything less than a united front could be the end of us.'

Mallory thought it interesting that he made this point so early in his speech.

Julian took a deep breath before continuing, his gaze fixed on the sunlight breaking through the stained-glass windows. 'There are some amongst you who probably feel we are rushing towards this with unseemly haste. Indeed, that was my own opinion. However, the case has been made that we are in a time of crisis… if not war… and that to leave the Church leaderless at this time would be an abdication of responsibility with potentially lethal results. This is a time when we must all pull together, for our own survival and for the survival of the Church. The case, too, was made that the strongest leadership will be necessary. Thoughtful debate and a desire to consider all sides is a peacetime luxury. I accept now that we need a clear vision, a brave heart and a strong stomach. An ability to call, perhaps, for sacrifices from us all. And who knows the importance of sacrifice better than we? Our Lord Jesus Christ died to redeem all mankind. Against that, the sacrifices demanded of us must seem petty. And so we shall stand firm, and do what is asked of us.'

He appeared at that moment to be talking to himself. He caught himself after a long pause and fixed his attention back on the rapt audience. 'The new bishop is well known to you, and I'm sure you're perfectiy aware of the qualities we saw in him.' He took a step to one side and made an awkward gesture that had more of the theatrical about it than any honest emotion. 'Our new bishop is Stefan.'

A ripple ran through the crowd, though whether it was appreciative or not was hard to tell. Mallory tried to catch Daniels' eye, but his friend pointedly avoided him.