World's End (Age of Misrule, Book 1) (58 page)

The tone of his words filled Church with trepidation. He recognised that he was dealing with something so beyond his comprehension it was almost like speaking with God. Yet however fearful he felt, he knew he couldn't back down. "You may think we're nothing, but we'll fight to the last. And if you believed everything you said, you wouldn't be sitting there talking to us. You'd just have taken it. If you want these things, you come and get them!"

"Nice tactics," Laura said in a fractured voice. "Don't just stand there. Go open the gate for him."

There was another ear-splitting peal of thunder and another blinding flash of lightning, and when it had cleared the Hunt was in motion. They galloped halfway round the churchyard wall, and then, without warning, they suddenly cleared the perimeter with a single bound, the dogs running all around. There was no time to talk or think. A hound launched itself at Church's throat, jaws snapping, needle teeth glinting, its eyes glowing with an inner light. Church swung the sword with such force he cleaved the dog in two. But instead of a shower of blood and entrails, it simply turned black and folded up on itself like a crisp autumn leaf until it disappeared in a shimmer of shadow.

Everything was happening too fast. One dog sank its teeth into Veitch's calf before he bludgeoned it to death with the iron bar. The tent was torn up and disappeared in a flurry, leaving Tom frozen in terror, hunched over Shavi's unmoving form. The hounds circled and attacked, circled and attacked, while the four of them continually lashed out to keep them at bay. But it was like holding back the tide. And out of the corner of his eye Church realised the riders were waiting, letting the hounds do all the work for them.

And then the quality of time seemed to change; images hit his brain one after the other like slides in a projector. Ruth's face, pale and frightened, but ferociously determined, in a flash of lightning. Some kind of comprehension crossing it like a shadow. Her head turning, searching, settling on one spot. The weight of her body shifting, muscles bunching, leaning forward slightly.

And then everything returned to normal like air rushing into a vacuum. Ruth erupted from the spot, holding the spear above her head. With a tremendous effort, she powered forwards, slammed her foot on a stone cross and launched herself on even faster. Church knew it was a suicide run, but there wasn't even a second to call out. She flew through the air and slammed the spear hard into the Erl-King's chest. There was an explosion of blue fire that lit up the entire churchyard. The Erl-King came free of his saddle, his face transformed by some emotion Church couldn't recognise, and the two of them went over the wall together and rolled down the steep bank into the night.

Ruth woke in the sodden bracken, her head ringing and a smell like a power generator filling the air. Every muscle ached and her skin was sore, as if she had been burned. The rain was still pouring down, pooling in her eye sockets, running into her mouth. With an effort, she lifted herself up on her elbows, and as she fought to recall what had happened, flashes came back: her attack, the impact with the Erl-King, the flash of blue fire and her last thought that she had killed herself but saved the others. With that realisation she allowed herself to focus on the outside world: she wasn't alone.

Something was thrashing around in the undergrowth, snorting like an animal, occasionally releasing a bestial bellow of anger or pain. It sounded so primal she was almost afraid to look, but in some perverse way she was drawn to it, even if it meant she might be discovered. Cautiously she peered above the level of the ferns.

Forty feet away, a dark shape crashed around, pawing the ground, stooping low, then raising its head high to the night sky. Her first instincts had been correct; there was more of the animal about it, yet also something sickeningly human. Her stomach turned at the conflicting signals. And then, in another flash of lightning, she saw what it was: the Erl-King, not wounded as she might have expected, but undergoing some bizarre metamorphosis. His entire body appeared to be fluid, the muscles and bones flowing and bulking, the posture becoming more brutish; the greenish scales and bony ridges on his face ran away as if they were melting in the rain; the nose grew broader, the eyes golden and wide-set; there seemed to be an odd mixture of fur and leaves sprouting all over his body, as if he were becoming a hybrid of flora and fauna. Yet despite its strangeness, Ruth felt the sight was oddly familiar. With each new transformation, he bellowed, and that sound also changed, conversely becoming more mellifluous. And finally twin stalks erupted from his forehead, growing and dividing until they became the proud, dangerous horns of a stag.

The vision was terrifying, yet also transcendental; Ruth felt flooded with an overpowering sense of wonder. She caught her breath; it was a slight sound, hidden by the wind, but whatever the Erl-King had become heard her. It froze, cocked its head, then lurched towards her, its hot breath bursting in twin plumes from its flared nostrils. Ruth shrieked in shock and scrabbled backwards, her heels slipping on the wet vegetation, but it was so quick it was over her before she could stand and run.

Knowing she was trapped, she turned and looked up at its huge silhouette looming over her, waiting for the wild attack that was sure to come. And then the strangest thing happened: in another flash of lightning she caught a glimpse of its expression and she was sure it was smiling.

"Frail creature," it said in a voice like the wind through autumn trees, "I see in you the sprouting shoots of one of my servants."

"What's happened?" she croaked.

The creature made an odd, unnatural gesture with its left hand and then seemed to search for the right words to communicate with her. "When the barriers collapsed, the Night Walkers were prepared. Deep in the Heart of Shadows, they had formed a Wish-Hex of immense power, forged from the dreams of lost souls. As we readied for our glorious return, it swept out in a whirlwind of vengeance, the like of which had not been seen since the first battle. None escaped its touch. Many of my kin were driven out of the Far Lands, a handful escaped to the world, or the places in-between. And some were cursed to walk the Night Walk. And I was one of them." He made a strange noise in his throat that was part-growl, part-cry, but then seemed to regain his composure. "But the Night Walkers' influence was always tainted with weakness. And you, a frail creature, broke its hold!"

The sound he made was not remotely human, but she guessed, in its ringing, howling rhythms, its essence was laughter. "You have the spear, most glorious and wonderful of the Quadrillax. The eternal bane of the Night Walkers, the source of the sun's light!"

His words were strange, but she was slowly piecing it together. "It freed you from their control?"

"I have as many faces as the day, yet I was trapped in form like you frail creatures, walking the Night Walk. Damned and tormented!"

She looked deep into his face and was almost overwhelmed by an awe, perhaps inspired by some submerged race memory. "Who are you?" she whispered.

"Know you not my names? Has it been so long? Of all the Golden Ones, I stayed in the World the longest, dancing through even when the barriers were closed. Yet still forgotten?" His sigh was caught by the wind. "My names are legion, changing with the season. In the first times, when the World was home, the people of the west knew me as Gwynn ap Nudd, White Son of Night, Lord of the Underworld, leader of the Wild Hunt, master of the Cwm Annwn, a Lord of Faery, a King of Annwn. In the great land, across the waves, I was Cernunnos, the Horned One, Lord of the Dance, Giver of Gifts. In the cold lands I was Woden, leader of the Herlethingus; heroism, victory and spiritual life were my domain. Each new frail creature saw me differently, yet knew my heart. Green Man. Herne the Hunter. Serpent Son. Wish Huntsman. Robin Hood. My home is the Green, my time the dark half of the year. Do you know me now?"

Ruth nodded, terrified yet entranced. Images tumbled across her mind, scenes from childhood stories, ancient myths, all pieces of an archetype that walked the world before history began. Whatever stood before her, it was impossible to grasp him in totality; he had as many aspects as nature, his form depending on the viewer and the occasion. The Erl-King, the dark side in which he had been locked and controlled, was now gone. "What do I call you?" she whispered.

She trembled as he bent down, but when he brushed her forehead with the side of his thumb, the touch was gentle. "Call me whichever name comes to your heart."

She plucked a name from the long list. "Cernunnos," she said. His description made it seem a gentler aspect. And then she realised why he had seemed familiar: he was in the vision the mysterious young girl had shown her at the camp outside Bristol; the one for whom the girl had been searching. The night to nay day, the winter to nay sunanaer, the girl had said. Twin aspects of the same powerful force.

He rose to his full height, still looking down on her. "One face of the Green lives within you, another in one of your companions-their eyes, and yours, will open in time. As a Sister of Dragons, your path will be difficult, but my guidance will be with you until your blossoming. And in the harshest times, you may call for my aid. By this mark will you be known."

He reached down and took her hand. She shuddered at his touch; his fingers didn't feel like fingers at all. A second later a bolt of searing pain scorched her palm. She screamed, but the agony subsided in an instant. Turning over her hand, she saw burned into it a circle which contained a design of what seemed to be interlocking leaves.

He was already turning away as he said, "Seek me out in my Green Home." He smiled and pointed to the owl which was circling majestically over their heads.

"What are you going to do now?" Ruth enquired reverentially.

"Once the Hunt has been summoned, it cannot retire without a soul."

Ruth shivered at the awful meaning in his words. She began to protest, but his glance was so terrible the words caught in her throat.

He raised his head and sniffed the wind, and then, swifter than she could have imagined for his size, he loped off into the night; she was already forgotten, insignificant. A moment later the rain stopped and the wind fell, and when she looked up in the sky she saw the storm clouds sweeping away unnaturally to reveal a clear, star-speckled sky. She hung her head low, desperately trying to cope with the shock of an encounter with something so awesome it had transformed her entire existence. But when she closed her eyes, she could still see his face, and when she covered her ears, she could still hear his voice, and she feared she would never be the same again.

he moment Ruth disappeared with the Erl-King, Church thought all their lives were about to end. He was hacking blindly with the sword, watching the hounds crisp and fade, but seeing another replace each one he killed, realising Laura and Veitch were within an instant of being overwhelmed. Yet in that instant that the spear pierced the Erl-King, the Hunt seemed to freeze in its attack, and a second later the dogs were milling round in confusion, while the remaining riders were reining their horses back and retreating beyond the churchyard wall.

"She's done it," he gasped, barely able to believe it.

Laura's eyes were filled with tears of fear and strain and blood was dripping from a score of wounds. "I thought we were dead," she moaned.

Veitch, who was just as injured, still held the iron bar high. "Don't relax! They might just be gearing up for a new attack!" he barked.

Church knew he was right and returned to the alert, but he couldn't help calling out Ruth's name. When there was no reply, his heart sank.

They remained watching the Hunt for what seemed like hours, fighting against the exhaustion that racked them all. And then, as if in answer to a silent call, the riders simply turned their mounts and galloped away, the hounds baying behind them. Church looked to the wall in the corner of the graveyard; the glowering presence of Black Shuck was gone too.

Soon after, they heard a noise in the bracken and Ruth emerged from the shadows, pale and shaking. As she clambered over the wall awkwardly, Church ran forward and grabbed her.

"You did it!" he said, unable to contain his relief. "I could kiss you!"

"Well do it now, before I faint," she gasped. And then she did.

After retrieving the battered tent, they lit a fire on the edge of the beach and enjoyed the calm which had followed the departure of the storm. Though not fully recovered, Shavi seemed well enough to talk, which raised their already high spirits. With the van's minimal medical kit, they tended to their wounds, and by the time the warmth had started to penetrate their bones, Ruth was ready to tell them what she had experienced.

Afterwards, they stared into the heart of the fire, trying to assimilate all the new information. "So," Ruth said, summing up, "the way I see it is this: for some reason we don't yet know, the doors between Otherworld and here were opened. The Danann were preparing to return when the Fomorii launched something called the Wish-Hex, which I imagine as a kind of nuclear bomb in their terms. When the blast swept out, it took the majority of the Danann to some place from where they can't return on their own. But some of the Danann were corrupted by this Wish-Hex radiation and, against their basic nature, fell under the control of the Fomorii. The Erl-King ... Cernunnos ... was one of them. And some of the other creatures of Otherworld must have been affected too. I think this explains the Fabulous Beast that attacked Church and I near Stonehenge. Obviously they're linked to the earth spirit, power, whatever, so they wouldn't have done the Fomorii's bidding against us unless they were forced."