The Devil in Green (89 page)

As Blaine and Stefan departed, Miller came running up. 'I hear you're going through with the Blues. That's a great honour, Mallory.'

'It's a great honour if you have no kind of life, Miller.'

'Thinking of meeting Sophie again?' He winked.

'I'm thinking of using you as a human shield when we break through.'

Miller threw his hood back and looked up into the gusting snow. 'You are going to come back, aren't you, Mallory?' he said after a while. 'You're not going to run off and leave us here?'

Mallory eyed him suspiciously. 'What's it to you?'

'It's everything to me,' Miller said plaintively. 'We need you here, Mallory. I need you here.'

The innocence in Miller's face almost swayed him. 'Of course I'm coming back,' he lied.

Roeser stood at Mallory's side with the rest of his elite squad at his back as the diggers worked on the last few feet of the tunnel. Overhead lay no- man's-land that separated the cathedral and the few straggling tents that had been sited across the river from the sprawling bulk of the travellers' camp. The air was dank, the silence potent with uneasy anticipation. The gravity of what was at stake was at work behind all their faces, turned grim with dancing shadows from the handful of lanterns.

Five minutes later there was a joyful exclamation from one of the diggers followed by a shower of earth rattling into the tunnel. Mallory felt a blast of cold air. Suddenly he could see a square of night sky and one twinkling star.

Before the diggers could clean up the hole, the Blues surged forwards, taking Mallory with them. They pushed the diggers to one side, then forced them back towards the cathedral unceremoniously. Obviously
civilians
were not allowed at the front.

Mallory was eased out of the hole first. After so long staring at the grey walls of the cathedral, the sight of distant horizons was both stirring and a little unnerving. He could see the floodplain extending flat and reedy through the swirling snow, while the river gushed noisily just a few feet away. Across the water, which at that point was narrow enough for him to cross with three bounds, the travellers' camp blazed with light from what seemed to be a thousand lanterns. The sound of fiddles, guitars and drums was carried by the wind. About twenty tents stood nearby, joined to the camp proper by a makeshift pontoon bridge across the water.

A piercing whistle rose up close to hand, startling him. One of the travellers, a young man with a mass of ginger hair and a beard, was hanging out of his tent, signalling to the other side. Within an instant, the whistle was taken up and transmitted across the camp, and seconds after that people were running towards the other side of the river. Mallory could see them picking up sticks and stones, which must have been stockpiled for easy access as a defence when the tunnel was finally opened.

'Stay calm,' Mallory said to Roeser, who had joined him. 'They're ready for us.'

'I am calm,' Roeser said.

The travellers massed on the far bank, clearly waiting. There was some hooting and jeering, but no real threat of violence. Within a minute, the crowd parted and Mallory saw Sophie striding towards him, grinning broadly. She waved and he waved back; he couldn't help returning her grin.

'See?' he said. 'I told you there'd be no trouble.'

'Early days yet,' Roeser cautioned.

Sophie was accompanied by Rick, the white dreadlocks of her right- hand man glowing in the dark. They gingerly crossed the rickety bridge over the rushing water, a small band of travellers close behind.

'Who's she?' Roeser asked uncertainly.

'Her name's Sophie Tallent,' Mallory said. 'She's their leader.'

As she reached their side, she only had eyes for Mallory. Her gaze sparkled as it locked on his; her hair blew wildly in the wind.

'Hello, Mallory. It's been a long time,' she said as she stood before him. It was what remained unsaid that struck him the most: her affection for him was clear and untainted, backed by both respect and trust, two qualities he hadn't seen directed at him for a long time. There was such a purity to her emotional response that he felt deeply moved.

'Hello, Sophie,' he said. 'We need to talk.'

'Is this cool?' she asked.

'There's not going to be any trouble. They need help.'

Sophie's eyes turned cold as they flickered over the other knights. 'Sure?'

'Sure.'

She turned around to face her people and said in a loud voice filled with authority, 'It's going to be
OK.
Throw down the weapons. Don't bother manning the defences.' Mallory guessed more weapons were secreted in the camp.

The travellers obeyed her instantly. Some looked relieved, others eyed the knights suspiciously. Mallory realised how frightening they must look to other eyes, with their mass of black uniforms and medieval weaponry.

His thoughts had already turned to planning his escape when he realised that Roeser was no longer at his side. He cast a half-glance behind him only to see the captain moving through the Blues, whispering. 'They can't help their little soldier-games,' he said quietly to Sophie. His ironic tone made her laugh.

'Now!'

The sharpness of the order startled him. Suddenly there were Blues surging past him, jostiing him to one side.

'It's OK!' he shouted. 'They're not planning anything!'

Two of the Blues grabbed Sophie's arms and began to haul her forwards. Her shock quickly gave way to annoyance. She struggled, ordering them to leave her alone. Some of the other travellers overcame their surprise to rush to her aid.

The second they moved, the Blues whipped out their swords. The travellers' eyes widened in fear. Mallory could see their faces, white in the lantern light as they struggled to make sense of what was happening.

In Mallory's head the scene suddenly became silent as his own confused thoughts drowned everything out. His gaze skimmed back and forth, taking everything in. Had Roeser seen something he hadn't? Some secret plan the travellers were hatching to get their own back for Melanie's death?

And then his gaze fell on Sophie. She was staring at him and her eyes were saying,
What is happening here?
He watched her expression change from incomprehension to fear to anger. Then there was one instant of steely accusation that made his heart ache.

'Trap!' she yelled. 'Go back!'

Suddenly the tableau exploded in sound and movement. One of the Blues punched Sophie in the face. Her head snapped back and she slumped forwards, unconscious. Mallory yelled her name, launching himself to help her, still not truly understanding but feeling a terrible acceptance begin to creep over him. Two Blues turned on him and knocked him back forcefully. He crashed into a tent, bringing it down around him.

When he managed to scramble to his feet, he was transfixed by the terrible sight of a knight ripping his sword up into Rick's gut. The dreadlocked teen's eyes bulged, but the sword kept ripping. A gush of blood shot out, staining the virgin snow. In one swift movement, the Blue removed his sword, flung the lifeless body to one side and moved on to the next. Rick's corpse hit the ground, then slid into the rushing river and was carried away.

Mallory spun around, trying to take in the chaos erupting on every side, made impotent by the horror of what he was seeing. The knights were in full flow. They rushed across the bridge and spread out into the camp, swords swinging. Tents were crushed; lanterns burst, setting fire to canvas, the flames leaping from home to home. Blood sprayed as the swords moved back and forth. People fell. The hellish conflagration moved with frightening speed until it seemed as though the entire camp had been set ablaze within a minute.

Mallory yelled out something, though his rushing emotions had shredded his consciousness and he didn't know what it was. It didn't matter. He heard a noise behind him, looked around in time to see Roeser swinging his fist. It hit him firmly on the jaw and snapped him into darkness.

He awoke on the snow, his body a mass of aches. He was back in the cathedral compound. Nearby, boots were tramping as the Blues carried provisions looted from the travellers' camp in through the tunnel. His dismay was so acute, hot tears stung the corners of his eyes.

'No,' he croaked.

'We do this in the name of our God, to save our God's work.' He looked up to see Stefan standing over him. The bishop's face was silhouetted against a lantern that hung overhead, so it was impossible to tell his emotions.

'You didn't need to do this,' Mallory said through swollen lips. 'They were harmless. They would have helped.' He swallowed, tasted blood. 'Where's Sophie?'

'We have taken her prisoner. The inquisitors will wish to question her before deciding on a form of punishment.'

Panic rushed through Mallory, giving him the strength to crawl to his knees. 'Punishment?' he gasped.

'The Bible states it clearly. Exodus chapter twenty-two, verse eighteen,' Stefan said coldly. '
Thou shah not suffer a witch to live.'

'All punishment is like therapy for a soul that has gone wrong.' -
Albinus

From the singing pain in his limbs and ribs, Mallory could tell he'd been worked over by a few boots after Roeser had knocked him flat. It was a strain to get to his feet, and when he attempted to walk he was shaky. But he didn't have to try, for two Blues caught him under the arms and dragged him through the thick snow towards the new buildings. But his thoughts were for Sophie, not himself. There was no sign of her, and though he asked his captors, they ignored him as if he were a piece of wood they were hauling to the fire.

As his boots bounced down the stone steps to the basement level, he tried to comprehend how it all could have gone wrong so quickly. The Blues dragged him along a gloomy corridor to a row of small cells with covered grilles punctuating doors secured by large padlocks. The third cell was open. They threw him inside. Dirty straw had been spread on the floor, aged manacles fixed to the walls.

'You've been ready for this,' he noted. 'How long have you been planning to round up the usual suspects?'