Marc Chadbourn - The Devil in green

He snapped his eyes shut, pretending to himself that it was a fleeting hallucination that had slipped out when the door of his dreams had closed. It was not one of the supernatural creatures besieging the gates, nor one of the risen clerics disturbed from their rest by the awful things they felt had been done to their Jerusalem. Since it had first started haunting him, he had pretended that he didn't know what it was. But he did, he did. It was as clear as a burst of fire in the dark.

'Go away,' he whispered, his eyes still tightly closed. 'Please.'

And in that moment of desperation, the notion of his escape route came to him. 'Caretaker!' he yelled. Then repeated the word continuously until his throat was torn and blood trickled down inside him.

Time dragged painfully. His strength, already at a low ebb from the lack of food, leaked from him and he lolled forwards on the chains, still mouthing the summoning when he had no more energy to call aloud. His consciousness drifted with his vitality, but he was aware that the next time he opened his eyes the hooded figure had gone.

He didn't know if it was minutes or hours later when he heard a sound beyond the wall at his back. At first he thought it was rats, but as it grew louder he realised it was rumbling footsteps accompanied by a metallic jangling.

'Caretaker,' he croaked.

The metallic noise rattled mere inches from him, and then there was a resounding click. After a moment of stillness, the wall itself began to shake. Dust showered over Mallory from the mortared joints. Out of the corner of his eye he could see the stones pull apart, then gradually grind open. A brilliant blue light flooded the cell, so that at first Mallory had to screw his eyes tight shut until he was accustomed to it.

'Who calls?' The voice boomed out all around him, making the manacles vibrate against his wrists and setting his teeth on edge.

'It's me. Mallory.'

The Caretaker stooped to enter the cell, bowing his head so that he could fit beneath the ceiling. He wore an enigmatic expression that made Mallory think he had been anticipating the summoning. 'Good day, Brother of Dragons,' he said sonorously.

'Caretaker, I need your help.' Mallory felt like a shadow of himself, but the Caretaker's arrival had uncovered a final reserve. 'Help me get free. Please?'

Mallory still wasn't sure whether the Caretaker would do his bidding, but the giant bent forwards and effortiessly pulled the manacles from the wall before snapping the chains that bound him. Mallory staggered under the weight of gravity and his weakness, and almost fell. The Caretaker caught him with one hefty arm. He exuded a deep spiritual strength.

'We have to get to Sophie.' Mallory pulled himself upright. He was overcome with a yearning desire to have his sword at his side; he hadn't realised how attached he had grown to it. 'Is there a way through your tunnels?'

'My place leads to all places, Brother of Dragons.' The Caretaker motioned for Mallory to step through the opening in the wall. As Mallory checked up and down the dusty tunnel that ran along the other side of the cell wall, the Caretaker rested a heavy hand on his shoulder. 'Before you proceed, you should know this: for every choice there are unforeseen repercussions. Every step leads you down a new road, infinitely branching, taking you to places you may never have guessed. At this juncture, the choices are never keener. Go one way and your life will continue untroubled. Go to rescue the Sister of Dragons and your world may turn dark. You may see things best left unseen.'

'We get Sophie and damn the consequences,' he said, without a second thought.

A faint smile flickered across the giant's lips. 'Existence has chosen wisely.'

The Caretaker guided him along the tunnels with a lantern that cast the brilliant blue light. Mallory felt himself strangely drawing strength from it, his limbs becoming less sluggish, his thoughts sharper. The direction of the tunnels bore no resemblance to the layout of the cathedral buildings he had in his mind's eye. Though Sophie's cell was close to his, they appeared to be walking away from it for what must have been twenty minutes before the Caretaker brought them to an abrupt halt and slapped the cold stone.

'Here,' he boomed. 'She is not alone.'

Mallory knew he wouldn't have the strength to fend off Broderick or one of the Blues, if that was who was there. 'I need my sword,' he said.

The Caretaker smiled again. 'Llyrwyn calls for you also. Wait here. I shall bring it to you.'

He disappeared into the gloom, leaving Mallory to slide slowly down the wall until his forehead was resting on his knees. Things had turned so sour, just as he thought they couldn't get any worse. Yet his dismal mood was nothing next to the ruddy glow of hatred he felt for Stefan, Blaine and all they represented.

But through it all, one thought was wriggling: the Caretaker had called Sophie a Sister of Dragons. Did that mean their destinies were entwined in some way? He wondered if some instinctive recognition of those mysterious ties explained why he had been drawn to her so instantly. But he liked the idea, the two of them linked by fate and an overarching mission for good; it was like something dreamed up for a fairy-tale.

In the unyielding dark of the tunnel, the blue light was visible long before Mallory heard the thud of the Caretaker's footsteps. Surprising himself with his eagerness, Mallory grabbed the sword and strapped it to his belt.

The blue light it radiated was even more potent than the Caretaker's lantern.

'How do I get in there?' Mallory turned to the wall, searching for any sign of an opening.

'Take care, Brother of Dragons. Hard choices lie ahead.' The Caretaker slammed his enormous hand upon a stone that looked like any other. Blue sparks flew. Mallory felt a change in air pressure, the oddly aromatic air of the tunnel giving way to something danker. Slowly, the wall tore itself apart and opened outwards.

Framed in the trembling stones, Mallory saw Broderick and one of the Blues frozen in disbelief. It lasted for barely a second, and by the time Mallory was stepping into the cell with his sword drawn, they were already moving.

Mallory was only dimly aware of Sophie chained to the wall. While Broderick backed against the wall, weaponless, the knight adopted an attacking posture with the ease and restrained strength of the Blues. Even the slightest movement exuded a lethal skill.

Mallory knew him vaguely, as well as anyone knew any of the Blues. His name was Blissett, his accent still thick with the Worcester burr of his youth. He'd once revealed to Mallory that he still loved his childhood sweetheart and once he was given freer range as a knight he'd return to Worcester to seek her out. He'd seemed like a decent fellow beneath the patina of hardness all the Blues carried with them.

He moved forwards with grace and power, counterbalancing easily as he swung his sword in an arc. Mallory parried, never taking his focus off Blissett's face, picking up every subtle movement with his peripheral vision. Blissett drove on, hoping to push Mallory on to the back foot. Mallory responded with a ferocious attack that brought a glimmer of shock to Blissett's eyes.

There was no compassion in Mallory, only an arctic cold. When his sword drove through the soft tissue of Blissett's upper arm, he felt nothing. When he pressed it on, feeling the gritty pressure of the bone fracturing and splintering, he felt nothing. When the arm started to come away, he was already pulling the sword back, ready to disable Blissett with a lunge that would slice open his stomach muscles and send his guts tumbling on to the floor. And Mallory felt nothing.

As Blissett went down on to his knees, shocked at the steaming mass vacating his body, Mallory whipped his head from his shoulders with a single clinical stroke.