World's End (Age of Misrule, Book 1) (46 page)

Tom glanced up at the darkening sky, then turned to the track down to the castle. "Come on. We must be there before nightfall."

Church thought it was another attempt to divert his questions, but as they trudged down the steep incline, Tom said, "When the Celts ruled Britain was the last time the land was truly alive."

"You're talking about the Blue Fire-the earth energy?"

He nodded slowly, thoughtfully, his eyes fixed firmly on the sea in the distance. "When the gods departed, the people were freed from the yoke of terror, but they lost something too. The people and the land are linked; like a mother and the baby in the womb, the blood that flows through one nourishes the other. But more than that, what you call the Blue Fire is also a powerful force for offence-for the defence of the land and the people. But like any weapon it needs to be nurtured to prevent it falling into disrepair. With the gods gone, there was no longer the immediate need for the people to unite and stay strong, with the force of the land at their backs. The mundane, day-to-day struggle of survival in a difficult environment took over and they forgot the importance of caring for the land through ritual at its sacred sites. The power dimmed, then grew dormant, and the people continued happily in their ignorant belief that all they needed was what their hands could grasp. But the Blue Fire is the spirit of the land and the people, inextricably linked for all time."

The track grew less steep as a small valley opened beside them with a tiny stream winding among wildly overgrown nettles and brambles. To their left, the side of the valley soared up high above their heads where part of the ruined castle lay. No tourists ventured down at that time, and the only sound was that of the sea crashing against the crags.

"So now the Fomorii are back we need to awaken that power again? To help us get the strength to defend ourselves?" Church searched Tom's face for answers, but his features were unreadable.

"It's all talk with you two, isn't it." Veitch seemed uncomfortable. He was continually scanning the thick vegetation away to their left and the growing shadows behind them.

"And Arthur?" Church continued.

"The Celts used their stories to pass vital information down the generations. Nobody can be bothered to remember facts, but if they are stitched into the fabric of an exciting tale ..." Now he was distracted by the landscape. Perhaps it was the way the valley's steep slopes made them feel insignificant and trapped, or perhaps Veitch's obvious uneasiness was catching, but Tom seemed to be growing increasingly wary.

"And?" Church said with frustration.

"And all myths and legends are the same. Arthur is not a man. He is the embodiment of the spirit of man and the spirit of the land."

Church suddenly saw what Tom was suggesting. "The legend of Arthur sleeping under a hill to be woken in Britain's darkest hour ... That's a coded message to awaken the power in the land."

"Finally," Tom said wearily.

"And all the sites linked to Arthur are ones that are important to the earth energy! But I don't understand-"

"No more talk," Tom snapped. He stopped suddenly and glanced back up the sweeping track, as if he had heard something. Church listened intently, but the only sound was of the faint breeze rustling the bushes. "Let us get to our destination. At least we should be safe there."

"Safe from what?" Witch said. Church saw his hand go unconsciously to the gun hidden in his jacket.

They speeded their step along the gravel track, falling into an uncomfortable silence. Above, the sky had turned deep blue and they could make out the diamond stars; it made Church feel very alone. The English Heritage building was locked and dark at the point where the valley opened out at the coast. The stream plunged into an impressive white waterfall cascading down on to the pebbled beach. The tide was out, the sea dark and powerful, licked with creamy surf where the waves broke powerfully.

And high up on their left were the ruins of the twelfth century castle like jagged teeth on a broken jaw. "We go up there, I suppose," Church said hesitantly.

"No," Tom corrected. "Down. To the beach."

Church looked at him curiously, but he gave no hint of how he knew the direction.

They clambered across the culverted stream and along a path that ran over treacherous, slick rocks where signs warned of the dangers of the crumbling cliff face. In the growing gloom, it was difficult to haul their way over the jumbled boulders to the crunching pebbles, but they managed it with only a few knocked bones. The beach had the thick, fishy smell of seaweed and the thunder of the waves was almost deafening.

Tom led them across the stones to a gash of impenetrable black in the soaring cliffs beneath the castle. "Merlin's Cave," he noted.

Veitch laughed. "Merlin! That's not you, is it? You've got that look about you."

"No, it is not," Tom said indignantly.

"We're going to do ourselves some damage in there," Church said, trying to pierce the darkness. "We won't be able to see our hands in front of our faces."

Tom marched past him into the shadows. Church cursed and glanced at Veitch, who circled his finger at the side of his head. But a second later they were slipping and sliding over seaweed and rocks, splashing into pools and stubbing their toes, while desperately trying to keep up with him; in the end they were gripping on to each other's jackets so they didn't become separated. They seemed to hang suspended in the dark where the echoing sound of the sea was almost unbearable until Church cursed, irritated with himself for not thinking, and pulled out the Wayfinder. In its shimmering blue light he could see the cave actually went right through the thin promontory that joined the mainland to the bulk of the island where the oldest part of the castle stood.

"What the hell are we looking for in here?" Veitch yelled above the roar.

"A door of some kind, I suppose." Church told him how the ground had opened magically at Avebury. Veitch shook his head in disbelief.

Tom's frustration was obvious as he stood on an enormous boulder and scanned the shadows that scurried across the walls away from the lamp's light. "Where is it?" he muttered.

Veitch glanced back to the cave entrance nervously. "There's something out there." He looked back at Church for some kind of comfort. "I must be going mad. I can't see anything, hear anything, but I feel like my heart's going to burst. I can't shake the feeling there's something bad coming for us."

Church nodded as supportively as he could muster, then returned his attention to washing the lantern's light across the rock. "We've all got to learn to trust our feelings," he said distractedly.

"Thanks a bunch," Veitch replied moodily.

And then Church did hear something, in the slight lull between the breaking of the waves. It sounded like a wild rustling or fluttering, but he couldn't think of anything that might have caused it. He looked to Tom, who was searching the walls with renewed, almost frantic energy. "Just keep looking," he said before Church could speak.

"There!" Witch exclaimed suddenly. He pointed to a part of the wall that was now in darkness. "Bring the lamp back!"

Church slowly swung the Wayfinder round until the section was illuminated. The shadows ebbed and flowed and then, for the briefest instant, a shape appeared. Church adjusted the lamp gently until the faint outline of a broadsword materialised out of a chaotic jumble of cracks that would not have been visible in any other light. Tom bounded from the boulder with a sprightliness that belied his age and slammed his palm against the symbol; blue sparks burst from his fingertips.

At that moment the pounding of the surf died again and the mysterious sound filled the cavern, throwing them all into a state of anxiety. Church looked back towards the entrance and saw some kind of whirling movement, darker even than the shadows. He thought he was going to be sick.

His attention was snapped back by a sudden rending sound from deep within the rock wall. A crevice mysteriously grew until it was wide enough for them to slip through. They hung back for just a second while the disturbing sound from the entrance seemed to rush towards them, then they dived in without a backward glance.

Although they weren't immediately aware of it, the wall closed behind them, trapping them in a tunnel in the rock barely big enough to stand upright. Their feet kicked up sand and seashells, and the deep, salty smell of the sea was everywhere.

"This place floods with the tide," Church noted ominously.

"How can rock open up like that?" Veitch asked.

"It didn't. It simply appeared as if it did," Tom replied obliquely.

"What was that outside, Tom?" Church asked.

"No point talking about that now. The tide is coming in. We do not have much time." He pushed past them and led the way along the tunnel which opened up into a cave the size of Church's now burnt-out lounge. In the wall opposite were three holes set out at intervals along a line at waist-height.

"What are we supposed to do?" Veitch asked.

Tom dropped down on his haunches to peer into the holes. "I can see something ..." A shrug. "I would expect the objects of power wouldn't be lying around for just anyone to pick up."

Veitch inspected the rest of the chamber, but there were no other distinguishing marks. "So, what? We have to find the combination?"

"Something like that."

"Good job there's not a lot riding on it," Veitch noted bitterly.

"You know," Church said, "there might be a switch in one of those holes." He tapped his fingers gently at the entrance to the middle one.

"That's not much of a security system."

"Here," Tom said sharply. Church and Veitch turned to where he was pointing. A trickle of frothy sea water had washed up the tunnel to the mouth of the chamber.

"The tide must sweep in quickly through the other entrance to the cave." Church handed Tom the Wayfinder, then turned back to the holes. "Bloody hell. We haven't got much time. What do we do?" Steeling himself, he rammed his hand into the middle hole. It went in up to the middle of his forearm and at the far end there were two loops of metal which his fingers slipped through easily. "I think there is a switch here!"

"Well, pull the bleedin' thing then and let's get the hell out." Veitch eyed the advancing water nervously; it was already another six inches into the chamber.

Tom and Veitch both realised something was wrong from the sudden, bloodless expression on Church's face. "Something's closed around my wrist. I can't get my hand out." He tugged frantically, but his arm wouldn't retract at all.

The sea water washed around their shoes, which were sinking into the sandy floor. Veitch leapt into action. He put his arms around Church's waist, braced himself with one foot against the chamber wall and heaved. Church yelled in pain. "You'll pull my bloody hand off!" Veitch released his grip with a curse.

"Relax your muscles," Tom ordered. "It might be like one of those oriental finger locks-the harder you pull, the more you are held tight."

"I don't feel in a particularly relaxed frame of mind," Church hissed. His socks and the bottoms of his Levis were already wet. He closed his eyes and attempted to calm himself with pleasant thoughts from his past, then felt a dismal wash of emotion when he realised they all contained Marianne. But it did the trick. Yet even when he let his hand go limp, the bond around his wrist remained as tight as ever. His shoulders slumped and he shook his head desolately.

"This water's flooding in!" Veitch barked. It was up to their calves, and when he paced anxiously it splashed dark stains up the legs of his trousers.

"That's not doing any good!" Church snapped.

"Calm down," Tom said. "It won't do any good to panic."

"That's easy for you to say." Church could feel his heart beating like a triphammer, his back and shoulder muscles knotting tightly. Although he tried not to think about it, images flashed through his mind of the water flooding into his mouth and nose, filling his throat, his lungs. "You two should get out of here while you still can," he said as calmly as he could muster.

"Don't be stupid! We can't leave you here-you're the important one!" Veitch's face was filled with the anger of frustration.

"Just get out!" Church shouted, his eyes blazing.

"He's right," Tom said, his voice almost lost beneath the echoes of lapping water. "Someone has to be left to try again, or everything-"

"Shut up, you coldhearted bastard," Veitch growled. "You're talking bollocks." He splashed around the cave like a trapped animal, his fists bunching, then opening. "I told you, he's the important one. We're just a couple of losers."

"Get out," Church repeated, gentler now he had seen the dismay in Witch's face.

"There's got to be an answer!" Veitch exploded. "Whoever did this wouldn't just leave it so everybody died!"

The water surged in, lapping up the walls, tugging at their legs. It appeared to be coming faster and faster. When it hit Church's waist, it seemed to flush the panic from him briefly. Suddenly, on a whim, he pushed his free hand into the left hole. There was a click and his trapped hand came free, but as he withdrew it jubilantly a bond snapped around his other wrist. He cursed loudly, waving the now-free hand to stimulate the blood supply.

"So triggering one switch frees the other one," Tom said.

"That's a lot of use!" Church said. "There's always got to be one hand in there."

"But still ..." Tom mused, wiping the splashes of water off his glasses.

"How can you be so calm?" Veitch bellowed at him. Tom replaced his glasses as if he hadn't heard a sound, and for a second Church thought Veitch was going to punch him.

"Take it easy, Ryan," he said.

Church's calmness had an odd effect on Veitch. For a second his eyes ranged over Church's face, then he turned away as if he suddenly couldn't understand what was happening in the world.

The sea water continued to rush in, splashing up high, throwing them around. It had reached their chests in just a couple of minutes; desperation gripped them all. Tom held the Wayfinder up high, its light painting the water azure, but even when the tide splashed over the flame it didn't extinguish it. Church wondered if it would still be burning away beneath the water at the side of his drowned, bloated body.