A Knight to Remember. And an Owl.
I arrived in a simple bedroom, just big enough to hold an old-fashioned four-poster bed and some elegant if rather battered furniture. The well-used kind, with scratches in the veneer and the sheen worn off, that usually gets handed down as heirlooms because you can’t find anyone to buy it. There were no windows in the bare stone walls, and the warm, cheerful butterscotch light came from a single lamp.
There’s always a certain element of surprise the first time you enter someone else’s bedroom. In this case, the surprised party was the Castle’s Seneschal. Sir Perryvale sat on the edge of his bed in his long nightie and floppy nightcap and stared back at me with studied dignity. Defying me to make any remark concerning his choice of nightwear. I just nodded respectfully to him, as befitted his station, and reduced the Merlin Glass down to hand-mirror size, then put it away.
“So,” said Sir Perryvale, “the legendary Merlin Glass in action . . . Brought you straight here, without setting off a single alarm. Incredible.”
I looked at him sharply. “You didn’t shut down the Castle’s security systems to let me in?”
“Hardly, old boy. Can’t have the Castle left vulnerable, not even for a moment. The London Knights have far too many enemies just waiting for us to put a foot wrong. Besides, I wanted to see what would happen. Don’t worry—no one’s going to bother us if we take a swift walk round the Castle. Not tonight. But we’d better be quick about our business. We have our very own top-rank telepath in residence, the Lady Vivienne de Tourney. I have reason to believe she’s . . . somewhat occupied just at the moment, but that won’t last. You need to be done with your business and gone before she notices you.”
“You let me in,” I said. “Just like that. I’m grateful, of course, but . . . how can you trust me? You don’t know me.”
“I knew Jack,” Sir Perryvale said simply. “He often talked about you. He believed in you. I don’t suppose he ever told you that . . . No. He wouldn’t. For all his many admirable qualities, he was still a Drood. Emotionally constipated, just like the rest of you.”
“But . . .”
“It’s not like I’m going to be allowing you access to any of our forbidden areas,” he said, riding right over me. “All right, yes, technically speaking, access to our oracle is forbidden to outsiders, but only technically. If the oracle doesn’t trust you, you won’t be getting any answers, so . . . Don’t worry, though. I’m sure you’ll find out everything you need to know.”
“But . . .”
“Look, you don’t mean any harm to Castle Inconnu, do you?”
“No!”
“Well, then! I am the Seneschal. I have every right to decide who is and who is not a threat to the London Knights. So there. If I want to bring in a guest, that’s my business. Pardon me a moment.”
He reached down and grabbed a heavy brown bottle from the floor beside his bed. He uncorked it, with something of an effort, and knocked back several swallows. He then grimaced, made a truly awful noise, and shook his head unhappily.
“Just a little pick-me-up; it’s hard to go straight from the drunk into the hangover without any sleep in between. Damn, I feel rough.” He took another long swallow, and then glared at me. “You were matching me drink for drink at the Wulfshead, Eddie. Why aren’t you suffering as well?”
“It’s the torc,” I said. “It can flush all the poisons out of my system in a hurry, in an emergency. For when I need my mind to be clear.”
“Lucky bastard,” said the Seneschal. “Why can’t our armour do something that useful?”
He took one last drink, slammed the cork back into the bottle, and put it down on the floor again.
“What is that stuff?” I said.
“Disgusting,” Sir Perryvale said flatly. “I think it works on the principle that anything that tastes so utterly vile has to be doing me some good. I do feel a little better. I think. Why do the worst emergencies always have to happen when you’re never in a suitable state to deal with them?”
He forced himself up onto his feet, swayed a little, and then strode over to a side door and kicked it open, revealing an adjoining self-contained bathroom. He turned on the light, which turned out to be stark, unforgiving electric, glaring back from a lot of white tiling. Sir Perryvale winced and went inside.
“You stay put,” he said over his shoulder. “While I get changed into something less comfortable. So one of us can stop being so damned embarrassed. Keep talking! I’ll still be able to hear you.”
The Seneschal left the bathroom door open while he got changed. He threw his nightcap on the floor and then whipped off his long nightgown, revealing himself to be entirely naked underneath. He pottered around the bathroom, picking things up and putting them down again, entirely unconcerned about his nudity. I took one look at his large Falstaffian figure, broad and heavy and entirely unconfined, and then looked determinedly in another direction. It does seem to be some sort of general rule that the people most keen on casual nudity are nearly always the kind of people the rest of us least want to see doing it.
“I know,” said a voice behind me. “I’ve been trying to get him to diet for ages.”
“I heard that!” said Sir Perryvale.
“You were meant to!”
I looked around, but there was no one else in the bedroom with me. Apart from a large, puffed-out owl, sitting proudly on a wooden perch in the corner and watching me intently with dark, thoughtful eyes. I blinked at him a few times, trying to figure out how I’d overlooked him before. His feathers were grey, with long tawny streaks, and he clutched his perch with heavy, powerful claws. I moved over to him and put out a hand to stroke his head.
“Don’t get familiar, bub,” said the owl.
I withdrew my hand. “Why didn’t I notice you before?”
“Because I’m a stealth owl. Finest kind.”
“Don’t mind him,” Sir Perryvale said cheerfully from the bathroom. “Archie is always a bit tetchy, with people he doesn’t know.”
“I am not tetchy!” said the owl. “I’m just . . . careful. You have to be careful around strangers, because they’re always trouble. I keep telling you that!”
“Eddie is my guest,” said Sir Perryvale.
“He’s a Drood!” the owl said loudly. “I can see his torc! Unnatural thing . . . just looking at it puts my teeth on edge. And I don’t even have any teeth!”
“Do I mention your shortcomings?” said Sir Perryvale.
“Frequently,” said the owl.
Sir Perryvale came back in from the bathroom to join us. He was wearing the same colourful outfit he’d worn to the Wulfshead—a loud Hawaiian T-shirt over very short shorts. They stank of old booze, cigarette smoke, dried sweat, and other party residues. Away from the club, they smelled flat and sad, like the ghosts of parties past.
“Sorry,” said Sir Perryvale. He didn’t sound it. “If you wanted to see me in my ceremonial robes, you should have given me more warning.”
“He’s only got the one set,” said the owl. “And they’re in the wash. Ugly things . . .”
“I knew I should have chosen the talking raven when they offered it to me,” said Sir Perryvale.
“What? Edgar?” said the owl. “But he’s got no personality! And no conversation!”
“Precisely,” said Sir Perryvale.
“Well, really . . . ,” said the owl.
Sir Perryvale smiled at me. “How do you like my owl?”
“Fascinating,” I said solemnly. “Where did you get him?”
“Mail order,” said Sir Perryvale.
I suddenly noticed a handwritten sign underneath the perch, saying Beware of the Wol. I looked at Sir Perryvale. He took me by the arm and moved me a discreet distance away.
“Don’t say anything,” the Seneschal murmured. “He wrote it himself. He’s very proud.”
My attention was caught by two small photographs in standard silver frames, sitting on top of the dresser. The only photos on display in the room. One showed a handsome young man decked out in a full set of brightly shining London Knights armour. Medieval in style, but obviously new; not a dent or scratch on it. He smiled easily at the camera, with his helmet tucked under his arm. It reminded me of a graduation photo. He looked brave, confident, ready for anything. Sir Perryvale moved in beside me.
“That’s my son, Ricard,” he said. “He died not long after that was taken. On a campaign against the Elder Monstrosities, out in the Shoals. We won the campaign, but . . . His mother died too, not long after. Just faded away, despite everything I could do. That’s her, in the other photo. My Elise.”
Elise was a pleasantly pretty young woman, dressed in sweet casual wear, smiling diffidently. She looked very young. She seemed happy enough, with no idea at all of what life had in store for her. I couldn’t help noticing that there were no photos of Sir Perryvale with his wife, or his son.
“Now there’s just me,” said Sir Perryvale. “And Archie, of course.”
“Someone’s got to look after you,” said the owl.
“And the London Knights are family, in their own way,” said Sir Perryvale. “We all swore our lives, and our sacred honour, to a greater cause. You can’t fight battles without casualties. You’re a Drood, Eddie. You understand about duty, and loss, and sacrifice.”
“Yes,” I said.
“I saw my share of fighting the good fight,” said Sir Perryvale. “Riding a great war charger, singing the old battle songs. Fighting side by side with my fellow Knights, on the muddy plains and stinking jungles of other worlds. Striking down monsters, and worse. Good times and bad. Triumphs and victories . . . and all the friends and family who never came home. I’m too old to campaign now, but I still serve. As Seneschal. I like to keep busy.”
“Why did you let me in so easily?” I said. “I mean . . . Droods aren’t usually welcome at Castle Inconnu. Actually, I’d be hard-pressed to think of anywhere we are welcome . . . But normally I’d have to submit a petition to the Matriarch, spelling out all my reasons, to be passed on to the Castle administration, and then sit back and hope for the best.”
“You don’t have time for that,” said Sir Perryvale. “And I owe your uncle Jack more than I could ever hope to repay.” He stopped suddenly and looked at me. “Oh my dear boy, I’m so sorry. I’ve been wittering on, and all this time you must be out of your mind with worry about your Molly being missing. Do forgive me. What happened to her exactly?”
I filled him in on the details as best I could. He nodded slowly.
“You’re right. You do need to consult the oracle. I’ll take you there. But Eddie . . . I am taking a chance on you. Don’t let me down. You may . . . see things that you mustn’t talk about. To anyone, not even your family. Perhaps especially not to your family.”
“I’m used to keeping secrets,” I said. “Especially from my family. Don’t worry, Seneschal. All I care about right now is finding Molly and getting her home safely. And I don’t care who I have to walk over, or through, to do that.”
“All right,” said the owl. “Him, I like.”
“You’ve come to the right place,” said Sir Perryvale. “Our oracle is second to none.”
“What kind of oracle have you got here?” I said.
“The Metcalf Sisters didn’t tell you?” The Seneschal raised an eyebrow and seemed briefly amused. “Ah . . . very well. I think I’ll let you find out for yourself. Because you wouldn’t believe me otherwise.”
“But your oracle can answer questions?” I said. “Accurately?”
“Oh hell, yes,” said Sir Perryvale. “Try to stop her . . . She really does know everything.”
“She?”
“Yes.”
I waited, but he didn’t have anything else to say. Just stood there, smiling his quietly irritating smile.
“Okay . . . ,” I said.
“She sees all, hears all, knows everything,” said Sir Perryvale. “Of course, how much she chooses to tell is up to her.”
“She’ll talk to me,” I said. “I don’t plan on giving her any choice in the matter.”
“Oh, I am going to enjoy this,” said Sir Perryvale.
I gave him a hard look. “There’s something important you’re not telling me, isn’t there?”
“There’s a lot I’m not telling you, old chap. It’s for your own good.”
The owl sniggered loudly from his perch. Sir Perryvale addressed him sternly.
“We need to make a start. The clock’s ticking. Archie, guard this room while I’m gone. No one is to enter, and no one is to know where I’m gone or who I’m gone with.”
“Got it!” the owl said importantly. “Anyone tries to mess with me, I’ll have them!” He glared at me. “I will!”
“I believe you,” I said.
“Come with me, young Drood,” said Sir Perryvale. “Wonders and marvels await.”
* * *
The Seneschal led me through a labyrinth of empty stone corridors. The first thing I noticed was that the splendid hanging chandeliers of crystal and diamond were all made up of standard electric light bulbs, providing a bright and almost shadow-free illumination. The Seneschal noticed me noticing.
“We are part of the Twenty-First Century here, Eddie. We may live in a castle, but we still have indoor plumbing and central heating, cable and broadband. We’re traditionalists, not barbarians.”
We moved on. It was good to be moving at last, after so much talking. It felt like I was accomplishing something. I didn’t know where Molly was, or what had happened to her, and I needed to know. Good news or bad, I needed to know. Because the strain of not knowing was like a knife in my gut. And yet for all my worries, and all my sense of urgency, I was still fascinated by the interior of Castle Inconnu. I’d read the family’s files on the London Knights, compiled down the years from a fact here and a rumour there, but as far as I knew, I was the only Drood ever to be invited inside. Officially. I peered about me as we hurried along, trying not to seem too much like a tourist. I knew my family would expect me to make a report on all this, afterwards. I didn’t see that as betraying the Seneschal’s trust; I’d already decided I would mention only those things on open display and keep the Seneschal’s secrets as my own.
I looked surreptitiously around for surveillance cameras, or any other forms of security system, but I couldn’t see anything. Probably still there; just concealed. I didn’t say anything to Sir Perryvale; presumably he’d already dealt with everything that needed taking care of.
The great towering walls we passed were all constructed from the same creamy white stone; glowing brightly, spotlessly clean. Each separate stone had been expertly laid into place, set so tightly and perfectly together there was no need for mortar. But no windows anywhere, to provide an outside view, not even an arrow slit. I had no idea where Castle Inconnu actually was. For all I knew, there was nothing at all outside.
The broad stone corridors were decorated with hanging tapestries and colourful pennants, in sharp, vivid hues. Stained-glass windows blazed in the connecting walls, depicting scenes from the lives of the Saints, ancient and modern. I particularly liked the one of Mother Teresa drop-kicking a possessed leper off a tenement roof. Huge silver crucifixes had been mounted at regular intervals along the walls, in a variety of styles from a variety of periods, along with a number of surprisingly tasteful little shrines. The huge open marble floors were covered with intricate mosaics of London Knights in their armour, fighting armies of monsters in the mud and blood of alien battlefields, under strange night skies with unknown constellations. Fighting for their dream. King Arthur’s dream. Of might for right, instead of might makes right.
The Seneschal and I passed quickly through a number of elegant stone galleries, huge banqueting halls with long, extended tables that seemed to go on forever, and wonderful indoor gardens with trees and fountains and flower displays that reminded me irresistibly of the Drood grounds. There were even comfortable gathering places with tables and chairs set out in front of bistros and restaurants.
“We do like our morning coffee,” said Sir Perryvale, hurrying along. “No better way to start the day than with a chat and a gossip over the morning papers. Nothing like a black coffee, thick as tar, to get your heart started on a cold morning. I wish I had time to give you a proper tour, Eddie.”
“I wouldn’t be able to concentrate,” I said.
“Of course, my dear chap. Molly must come first. I quite understand. But if whoever has taken Molly had wanted her dead, they would have killed her right there in the Wulfshead while you were distracted. And they didn’t. Which definitely implies they have a purpose in mind for her. And after all, my dear fellow, she is Molly Metcalf. If there is anything at all to her legend, that young lady can take care of herself.”
“Usually, yes,” I said. “But this whole business seems to be linked to the Big Game, and the Powers That Be . . . Personages strong enough to break through the Wulfshead’s notoriously tough security measures. I didn’t think anyone could do that. I’m worried they’ve taken Molly because they want her to do something for them. And the longer they have her in their power, the more time they’ve got to . . . persuade her. One way or another.”
Sir Perryvale shot me a concerned look. “You have time, Eddie. You must believe that. Or you’ll never get anything done.”
“But what if they’re using that time to . . . do things to her?”
“I refer you to my previous answer,” Sir Perryvale said sternly. “That the infamous witch of the wild woods is perfectly capable of kicking the crap out of anyone who upsets her. I’m right, aren’t I?”
I smiled despite myself. “There is that, yes.”
“You mustn’t let a big impressive name like the Powers That Be get to you,” said Sir Perryvale. “In my experience, the bigger the name people give themselves, the less there is to worry about.”
“What if they’re not people?” I said. “And what if we gave them that name?”
“Just concentrate on what’s in front of you, Eddie,” Sir Perryvale said kindly.
* * *
We finally came to a halt in a great open space, surrounded by stairways leading up and up, and floors and floors rising around us. For the first time I got a real sense of the scale of Castle Inconnu. It wasn’t just a building; it was a whole world in itself.
“Impressed?” Sir Perryvale said calmly.
“Yes,” I said. “It reminds me a lot of Drood Hall. But where is everybody? We’ve covered a lot of ground, and I haven’t seen a single soul anywhere. Has something happened?”
“Our Grand Commander, Sir Kae, has led the Knights off into battle against some other-dimensional threat to the Earth,” said Sir Perryvale. “Apparently something really nasty is brewing.”
I looked at him, frowning. “What threat is that? I haven’t heard anything. I’m sure somebody would have said something at the Hall if my family had known . . .”
“We do rather specialize in such things,” said Sir Perryvale, in an only faintly patronising tone of voice. “You Droods protect Humanity, but in the London Knights we set our sights somewhat higher. We keep an eye on the bigger picture.”
“And who decided that?” I said.
The Seneschal shrugged, just a bit vaguely. “The Knights and the Droods did both start out at roughly the same time in history, give or take a century or two. Doubtless . . . people got together, and agreements were made. As to territory, and responsibilities. To prevent . . . disagreements, and even clashes. It’s probably for the best that the London Knights aren’t here right now. Most of us don’t get on with Droods. Professional courtesy is all very well, but . . . Of course, to be fair, we don’t get on with anyone, much. There’s nothing like defending this world for centuries, against all comers, highly successfully, to convince you that you’re always right. Mind you, we nearly always are. It’s a matter of attitude, I suppose . . . You understand, Eddie.”
“Of course,” I said. “I’m a Drood.”
Sir Perryvale chuckled dryly.
“Thank you; for your help,” I said. “I do appreciate what you’re doing, what you’re putting on the line, by letting me in. Helping me. If I can ever do anything for you . . .”
“Well,” said Sir Perryvale, “could we, perhaps, have the Drood dragon? We’d be ever so grateful, and I promise we’d take very good care of it. The London Knights have wanted their very own dragon for ages and ages.”
“That’s . . . up to him,” I said. “I will ask him, when I get back, but he seems quite attached to us.” A question occurred to me. “Can I just ask: is it true that the London Knights had the Merlin Glass in their keeping for years?”
“Oh yes,” said the Seneschal, quite off-handedly. “For centuries, I think.”
“The Glass was given to my family, originally, by Merlin himself,” I said carefully. “For . . . services rendered. How did the Glass end up in your hands?”
“I’m sure I don’t know,” said Sir Perryvale. “Ancient history, I’m afraid. Not really my field. We do have a great many items in our vaults, things that originally belonged to Merlin. King Arthur felt it important that we keep them, in case the old sorcerer ever came back to us.”
“You think that’s likely?” I said. “After all this time?”
“Why not?” the Seneschal said simply. “Arthur did. Our King came back to us, for a time. And what a glorious time that was.”
“King Arthur . . . ,” I said. There are some names that just give you goose pimples. “What was he like?”
“Everything they said he was,” said Sir Perryvale. “And so much more, besides.”
“Gone back to his sleep. Somewhere safe. Until he’s needed again, for the Final Battle.”
“Why did you give the Merlin Glass back to us?” I said bluntly.
“Because your uncle Jack asked for it,” said Sir Perryvale. “And no, he didn’t say why.”
“And you just gave it to him? Didn’t that get you into trouble?”
The Seneschal shrugged briefly. “I’m not the only one here who owes a lot to Jack Drood.”
“Didn’t any of the Knights object?”
“Ah,” said Sir Perryvale. “I may not have actually got around to informing all of the rank and file, so to speak.”
I gave him a hard look. “Hasn’t anyone noticed it’s missing?”
“The only way we can all rub along together here, in such a confined space, is for all of us to allow each other our little secrets,” Sir Perryvale said sternly. “I’m sure there are things being kept from me . . . Now, let’s go see the oracle!”
* * *
He led me up a steep stairway, and on through a series of open stone galleries, all of them decorated with impeccable style and taste. Our footsteps sounded ominously loud and carried to me in the constant quiet.
“Is everybody gone from the Castle?” I said finally.
“No, just the Knights. Our wives and families are all gathered safely together in the Great Redoubt, at the heart of the Castle, behind all kinds of protections. They’re safe there until the Knights return. Strictly speaking, I should be in the Redoubt with them, but I was damned if I was going to miss Jack’s wake. And besides, I can never get to sleep in a strange bed. Not at my age.”
“Wives and families . . . ,” I said. “Aren’t there any female Knights?”
“Not yet,” said Sir Perryvale. “Though it is an idea whose time has pretty much come. We do change, Eddie, but only slowly. Is it really very different with the Droods? I mean, how many female field agents do you have?”
“Quite a few,” I said. “And my family is led by a Matriarch.”
“The London Knights are still mainly a religious order,” said Sir Perryvale. “And that kind of organisation is always going to be the slowest to change. By long tradition, the Knights fight, and the women provide necessary backup, here in the Castle. As doctors, teachers, historians, librarians, armourers, and spiritual councillors . . .”
“Servants?” I said.
“What? Our Ladies?” said Sir Perryvale, openly amused. “Hardly! Perish the thought . . . No, no; Castle Inconnu is full of airy spirits that take care of all the everyday, necessary things.”
We came to the Hall of Forgotten Beasts. An extremely long hall, whose walls were decorated with the stuffed and mounted heads of all kinds of fantastical creatures, many of whom were no longer part of recorded history. The only remaining examples, in some cases, of hundreds and hundreds of exotic beasts. I slowed down, despite myself, to take a better look. Sir Perryvale slowed too, reluctantly. He looked at me and didn’t like what he saw in my face.
“You have to understand,” he said as we passed slowly between the two opposing rows of preserved heads on plaques, “that for a long time, hunting was an important part of our Knightly duties. Wiping out creatures whose very existence was considered a real and present threat to Humanity’s survival. It is possible that perhaps some of those early Knights got . . . a little out of hand. We don’t do this any more, of course. Another slow change.”
“And too late,” I said, “for most of these creatures.”
“Pretty much everything on display here would have killed you quite cheerfully,” said Sir Perryvale. “Don’t get sentimental, Eddie. And, it has to be said, you’re not seeing the Hall at its best. Much of this place was destroyed during a recent elf attack. We had to rebuild the Hall and restore a great many of the exhibits . . . We lost quite a few specimens. Too damaged to be preserved. An irreplaceable loss.”
He walked on down the Hall, pointing out particular items of interest. A pure white unicorn’s head, with a vicious curlicued horn and crimson eyes blazing madly. It didn’t look like anything a maiden might want to ride. A gargoyle, with a bullet hole right in the middle of its flat, broad forehead. A basilisk with no eyes. (Obviously.) A dire wolf with moulting fur, its jaws still snarling defiance. And then I stopped and pointed at one particular head.
“What is that?”
“Ah,” the Seneschal said proudly. “That is the Questing Beast. You wouldn’t believe how many of us it took to track that down. It’s an old monster, not much valued and even less missed.”
The Questing Beast was an odd mixture of beast and bird. It looked . . . old and tired, and perhaps even a little resigned. As though it knew it had outlived the time it was meant for.
And finally . . . we came to the dragon’s head. Just the face, really. If the whole head had been there it would have blocked the Hall. The exhibit wasn’t very impressive. Its bottle-green scales were dull and dusty, and the eyes obviously glass. Some of the teeth were missing. It was just the preserved remains of something that had once been great. I looked at it and felt suddenly, coldly, angry.
“No wonder you want our dragon,” I said.
“Your dragon, by all accounts, has mellowed considerably since its time in the wild,” Sir Perryvale said evenly. “Having your head cut off, and then being left to think about things under a mound of earth for centuries, will do that to you. Your dragon is an almost civilised creature now. In their own time, dragons were nasty, vengeful, and quite deadly beasts. Killers of men, women, and especially children. Destroyers of whole communities. A lot of good Knights went to their deaths bringing this creature down. We thought the breed was extinct, until we learned of your find in Germany, out by Castle Frankenstein.”
“What do the London Knights want with our dragon?” I said. “To finish the job?”
“No,” said Sir Perryvale. “We wish . . . to honour it. If there’s one thing Knights understand, it’s the need to do penance.”
I looked up and down the Hall, taking in all the heads on display. “You know, in these days of DNA retrieval and forced cloning, it might actually be possible to bring some of these beasts back. Under carefully controlled conditions.”
“I’d like that,” said Sir Perryvale. “I think a lot of us would.”
“So you could hunt them again?”
“No, so they could be returned to the wild. It’s a terrible burden to know you’re responsible for the extinction of a species.”
“I think we could work something out,” I said.
“I’ll have a word with the Grand Commander when he returns,” said the Seneschal. “I think it would do both the Knights and the Droods good to have some project we could work on together.”
“It would be good,” I said, “to have something in common.”
“Oh, there are a few things we can all agree on,” said Sir Perryvale, setting off down the Hall again. “If only that the Nightside should be utterly wiped out.”
“Couldn’t agree more,” I said. “Terrible place.”
“I don’t know what your uncle Jack saw in it,” said Sir Perryvale, “but he spent enough time there . . .”
* * *
In the end, the Seneschal led me up a long, winding stairway, with frequent rests for him to get his breath back. Finally, he unlocked a door at the very top of the stairs and led me into a great circular stone chamber. Something about the room made me feel as though I was at the top of a tower. Given that there were still no windows to show what was outside, there was no way of confirming it, but that was what it felt like to me. A tower inside a castle? I shrugged mentally. Castle Inconnu was very old, and it kept its secrets to itself.
The chamber was wide and airy and open, dominated by a great circular well that took up most of the available space. A well, inside a tower, inside a castle . . . Good thing I was a Drood. We believe six impossible things before breakfast, just to keep our hand in. The chamber was a good sixty feet in diameter, and fifty feet of it was the well. The containing rim was polished stone, only a few feet high. When I leaned over the rim to look into the well, I was hit in the face by the sharp smell of the sea. And when I looked down, into the murky waters . . . all I could see was endless darkness, falling away forever, looking back at me. Suddenly vertigo hit me, and I swayed on my feet. Sir Perryvale grabbed me by the arm and pulled me back. I shook my head hard and glared at him.
“What kind of oracle is this?”
“The Lady of the Lake,” Sir Perryvale said proudly. “The Lady Gaea herself. Mother Earth.”
I had to think about that for a moment. “Really?”
“Oh yes. Our Lady of ancient days, the bestower of Excalibur. We serve her, we protect her, we belong to her. And in return she tells us what we need to know. I’m hoping she’ll extend that same courtesy to you.” He put a steady hand on my shoulder. “I know you’re worried about Molly. But our oracle really does know everything. She can help.”
I nodded, unable to speak for a moment. Not just because I was finally close to learning the truth about what had happened to Molly, but also because the comforting hand on my shoulder reminded me so much of the Armourer.
And then we both looked round sharply as we heard heavy footsteps hurrying up the stairs, towards the chamber. I looked at Sir Perryvale.
“That sounds a lot like armoured feet to me. You assured me all the Knights were gone!”
“Most of them are!” Sir Perryvale looked unhappily at the closed door. “But of course, a few always stay behind to guard the Castle. Can’t leave the old place undefended, can we? I was rather hoping we’d be done and gone before they noticed anything was amiss.”
The door slammed open, and a young man in full armour burst in, holding a drawn sword out before him. He studied us both with cold, angry eyes, sweeping his long blade back and forth before him. He dismissed the Seneschal with a contemptuous sniff, and then fixed his glare on me. I really didn’t like the look of his armour. It wasn’t ceremonial, or a work of art, or in any way symbolic. This was battle armour, designed to keep its wearer alive in the most desperate and dangerous of situations. Gleaming heavy steel-plate armour, covering the young man from head to toe, expertly fashioned and entirely unadorned. No engravings or decorations, not even a patterned tabard to add a touch of colour. The blunt steel helmet covered his entire head, with just a Y-shaped slot at the front for eyes and nose and mouth.
And the sword he carried was a heavy brutal thing, a butcher’s blade, a killing tool.
Sir Perryvale took a cautious step forward, and the sword immediately moved to cover him. Sir Perryvale stopped where he was.
“Sir Bors,” he said. “I thought you were occupied with the Lady Vivienne.”
“Did you really think she wouldn’t notice?” said Sir Bors. From his voice, he seemed to be barely into his twenties, but he still gave every appearance of being extremely dangerous. The sword and armour helped, but this was clearly a man with warrior’s training.
“I did hope this confrontation wouldn’t be necessary, yes,” said Sir Perryvale. “Allow me to present my guest . . .”
“He’s a Drood!” said Sir Bors. He made my family name sound like an obscenity.
“Quick, isn’t he?” Sir Perryvale said to me.
“A damned Drood!” said Sir Bors.
Sir Perryvale shook his head. “You’re going to be awkward, aren’t you?”
“Sir Bors,” I said, and the cold eyes snapped back to me. So did the sword. I gave the Knight my best charming smile. “Nice to meet you. You look . . . very martial. Do you always wear your armour inside the Castle?”
“Only when we’re expecting trouble,” said Sir Bors. “Stand still! Don’t move!” He glared at the Seneschal. “What were you thinking? You should never have let him in!”
“That was my decision to make,” Sir Perryvale said coldly. “My prerogative as Seneschal. My guest is here because he needs to consult the oracle . . .”
“Not going to happen,” Sir Bors said immediately. “You know that’s strictly forbidden to outsiders. And we definitely don’t do Droods any favours.”
“Why are you here, Sir Bors?” said Sir Perryvale.
“I’m going to take this Drood away, lock him up somewhere secure, and leave him there,” said Sir Bors, “until the army and the Grand Commander return. Sir Kae can make the decision of what should be done with this . . . intruder. And then I’ll see you prosecuted for dereliction of duty, Seneschal! I’ll see you relieved of your position! You let the wolf in at the gate . . .”
“Just because you’re humping the Lady Vivienne,” Sir Perryvale said calmly, “don’t think for a moment that means you share her exalted station. You weren’t her first, and you won’t be her last. I’ll set my decades of service to the Castle against your calculated outrage any day.”
“Excuse me,” I said, “but how long before Sir Kae returns?”
“Weeks,” said Sir Bors. “Maybe months.”
“I can’t wait that long,” I said. “Molly Metcalf has been kidnapped, and I need access to your oracle to find out where she’s been taken. Just let me ask my questions, and I’ll be on my way . . .”
“You don’t get to make conditions, Drood,” Sir Bors said loudly. “Everyone knows you can’t trust a Drood! And if your notorious witch has gone missing, good riddance to bad rubbish.”
“Please don’t kill him,” Sir Perryvale said quickly to me. “He’s young, and he means well.”
“You’re right,” I said to Sir Perryvale. “He is going to be awkward. And I don’t have the time or the inclination to be diplomatic about this.”
I armoured up, and Sir Bors fell back a step as my strange matter armour wrapped around me in a moment. Even when you think you know what to expect, your first sight of a Drood in his golden armour is always going to be a heart-stopping experience. Armour supple as flesh, openly unnatural, impossibly strong and fast, and a mask with no features. Not even any eyes. That always upsets people; which is why we do it. I grew a long golden sword out of my armoured right glove, and Sir Bors immediately dropped into a fighter’s crouch, his sword extended before him. At least he looked like he knew what he was doing. I didn’t want this to be over too quickly. Not after what he’d said about Molly.
I moved forward, and his sword leapt for my throat. I parried it easily with my golden blade. The two swords slammed together in a shower of sparks, and I think both of us were a little surprised that neither blade shattered. We circled each other slowly, studying each other’s form.
“Merlin gave your family a Glass,” said Sir Bors. “He gave us enchanted swords and armour!”
I cut at his head with my sword, and he parried at the last moment. Our blades flashed back and forth, as we went round and round in the limited space available to us in the gap between the well and the door. Sir Perryvale retreated quickly, out of the way. Sir Bors was a lot more experienced at sword-fighting than I was. I blocked most of his attacks easily enough, but a swift feint caught me off guard, and his sword-point slammed into my ribs. The strange matter held against his enchanted steel, and while he hesitated for a moment, surprised, I stuck my blade into his ribs. His spelled armour held off my strange matter sword in its turn. I swore under my breath. This was going to complicate things.
I looked him over carefully, searching out the weak spots in his armour. The elbows and the knees and the groin, obviously; and the Y-shaped slot at the front of his helmet. But most of those were killing blows, and I really didn’t want to do that. Sir Bors was just defending his home.
And I had meant it when I swore I didn’t want to kill again.
We circled each other, looking for weaknesses in each other’s stance. This was all taking far too long. Taking up time I needed to locate and rescue Molly. So when in doubt, cheat. My first thought was to use the Merlin Glass. Take it out, slap it over Sir Bors, and just teleport him somewhere else. I switched my sword from right hand to left. I was good enough to hold him off that way for a while. Sir Bors hesitated, then fell back a step, wary of a trick. I used that moment to reach through my armoured side with my free hand, into the pocket dimension I kept there. But the Merlin Glass avoided my grasp. The damned thing refused to be brought out. So instead, I grabbed hold of my Colt Repeater, brought that out, and pointed the gun at Sir Perryvale.
“Stand down!” I said to Sir Bors, my voice sounding cold and authoritative, filtered through my mask. “Or I’ll shoot your Seneschal. I don’t need him to get answers from your oracle.”
“Please don’t let him shoot me,” Sir Perryvale said quickly.
Sir Bors hesitated, looking from me to the Seneschal and back again. “You wouldn’t . . . You wouldn’t dare!”
“Of course he would!” said Sir Perryvale. “He’s a Drood!”
Sir Bors lowered his sword and stepped back into the open doorway. “And you are still a London Knight, Perry, for all your sins.”
“Get out of here,” I said to Bors. “Go take a little walk, just long enough for me to conclude my business with the oracle. And then you can have your Seneschal back and I’ll get the hell out of Castle Inconnu.”
Sir Bors nodded slowly, reluctantly. “I’ll be back. With reinforcements! And if our Seneschal is harmed, your death will be a slow and terrible one!”
“Why, Bors,” said Sir Perryvale, “I didn’t know you cared.”
Sir Bors sniffed loudly and disappeared out the door. I listened to his heavy footsteps retreating back down the stairway, then pulled the sword back into my glove and armoured down. I realised I was still holding the Colt Repeater, so I put it away. Sir Perryvale looked at me thoughtfully.
“I won’t ask,” he said.
“Best not to,” I agreed.
He turned to face the well and raised his voice.
“Lady Gaea, it is Sir Perryvale of the London Knights who calls you! It is the Seneschal of Castle Inconnu, who invokes you! Come forth and speak, for we have need of your knowledge and wisdom! Come to us. In Arthur’s name!”
There was a long pause, and then from deep in the well there came a great roaring sound, of something huge rushing towards us. Building and building, with all the strength and power of an approaching tidal wave or tropical storm. I could feel pressure on the air, the sense of a growing presence, of something coming. Something too large to fit easily into our small, fragile, and easily breakable world. A feeling of something condensing itself so it wouldn’t overpower or damage our reality. I realised Sir Perryvale had stepped back from the well, pressing his back flat against the wall, so I did that as well. A solid jet of water blasted up out of the well, dark blue-green seawater. It slammed against the stone ceiling overhead and fell back as a shower of rain. The waters formed themselves into a human figure that suddenly snapped into focus, and there, standing elegantly on the still surface of the water in the well, was a beautiful woman. Not a single ripple moved across the surface of the water from where her bare feet made contact. She was wearing a long emerald-green dress, with a bright golden sash around her waist. She smiled dazzlingly at me and the Seneschal, and stepped forward. She placed one foot on the stone rim of the well and reached out a hand to me so I could help her down. I took hold of her hand automatically, and she stepped down to stand before me. I was amazed at how normal, how human, her hand felt in mine.
Because I knew there was nothing normal or human about her. She was Gaea. All the world in a woman. I just knew.
I let go of her hand and studied her openly. She had a classic face, with a strongly defined bone structure. A great mane of night-dark hair, warm blue eyes, and a really nice mouth. I thought she could be any age—until I looked into her eyes. They were old, so old; older than any living thing had a right to be. I dropped down on one knee before her. Just because it felt like the right thing to do. Sir Perryvale was already kneeling, and bowing his old head respectfully. I bowed to Gaea too. She felt like my mother. Like everyone’s mother.
Mother Earth.
“Lady of the Lake, welcome,” said Sir Perryvale. “Lady Gaea . . .”
“Oh stop that,” she said. “And get up. You know very well I’ve never required any of you to kneel or bow to me.”
I got to my feet. I could see Sir Perryvale was having trouble with that, so I helped him up. His knees cracked loudly.
“We don’t do it because it is required, Lady Gaea,” said Sir Perryvale. “We do it because it’s you.”
“Call me Gayle,” she said. “I haven’t used that old name in ages. How many times do I have to tell you? So knock it off! Or I’ll get cranky.” She looked at me. “Well. A Drood. It’s been a while . . . What do you want with me?”
I filled her in quickly on everything that had happened. She was very easy to talk to, nodding in all the right places.
“It seems likely Molly has been kidnapped by the Powers That Be,” I said finally. “Do you know who they are? Where they are? Do you know what’s happened to my Molly?”
“Of course,” said Gayle. “I know everything. And when I don’t, I make it up. Though you’d be surprised how often it all turns out to be true anyway. Molly Metcalf has been taken by the Powers That Be, taken out of this world so she can participate in the Big Game. And yes, I know you already know that; I’m just confirming it. As to who the Powers That Be are . . . not all of my knowledge, or all of my secrets, are mine to share.”
“Why not?” I said. “Who is there powerful enough to compel you to keep things secret?”
“I am,” said Gayle. “I am the world, and the balance must be maintained.”
“Am I supposed to understand that?” I said.
“No,” said Gayle.
“Just as well,” I said. “All right, what can you tell me? Can you See Molly? Can you See where she is?”
“Yes,” said Gayle.
“She’s still alive?” I said. “She’s all right?”
“She’s still alive,” said Gayle.
I could tell she was being careful about what she said. I wanted to shout at her, demand more information, make it clear to her how much I needed to know this and how angry I was; but I could tell . . . that would be a really bad idea. She really was everything she seemed to be, and more. So I clamped down hard on my emotions and said, very carefully and very politely, “What can you tell me, to help me?”
“Molly can’t save herself,” said Gayle. “You must go to where she is and save her.”
“How do I find her?” I said.
“You need a Door,” she said. “To take you to the Shifting Lands. A very special, very powerful Door.”
“I have the Merlin Glass,” I said.
“You say that like it’s a good thing,” said Gayle. “If you only knew what’s inside that Glass, watching you . . . The Glass can’t help you this time. It isn’t powerful enough to take you where you need to go.”
“There’s the Doormouse,” I said. “And his House of Doors. He’s always boasting he can provide a Door to anywhere . . .”
“To anywhere else, perhaps,” said Gayle. “The Doormouse does good work. But the way to the Shifting Lands, and the Big Game, is protected. The only way in is by invitation. And if the Powers That Be had wanted you, they would have taken you along with Molly. There’s a reason they take people, Eddie Drood. Have you ever entered into any binding Pacts or Agreements?”
I did think about the deal I once made with the rogue armour, Moxton’s Mistake, but I didn’t say anything.
“You need to find a Door powerful enough to punch right through all the defences,” said Gayle. “And for that you need to pay a visit to the Travel Bureau.”
I winced at the name. Sir Perryvale saw me do it.
“What?” he said immediately. “What is this . . . Travel Bureau? And why haven’t I heard of it?”
“Because you don’t move in those kinds of circles,” I said. “I’ve heard of them. They’re a kind of Underground Railroad, for people who need to get away. In a hurry. Before certain other highly motivated people can track them down and express their extreme displeasure with them. The Travel Bureau offers a one-way trip to the destination of your choice. The price is everything you own. Because you can’t take it with you, and you definitely won’t be coming back for it. The Travel Bureau provides Doors for desperate people who need to disappear without trace. The most powerful Doors to be found anywhere in this world, or out of it. So they say.”
“Where are they?” said Sir Perryvale. “Do you know?”
“Of course I know!” I said. “Droods know where everyone is. Or at least that’s what I always thought. The Shifting Lands . . . are new to me. Let’s hope the Tourist Bureau has heard of them. They have a Departure Lounge, hidden away in a private pocket dimension, in the space between spaces. Tangentially attached to a particular location in London, from where they can access every point in Space and Time. According to their brochure. The problem is you can only get in if you make contact through the proper channels. They’d never willingly admit a Drood . . . but they might let Shaman Bond in. There is a chance their security measures might detect my torc; if that happens my cover identity will be blown. But I’ll risk it. For Molly.”
We all looked round again, at the sound of heavy armoured feet pounding up the stairs towards us. It seemed that Sir Bors had found his reinforcements. I nodded quickly to Gayle and looked at Sir Perryvale.
“Are you going to be all right if I leave you here to face Sir Bors? He knows you let me in.”
“Don’t worry,” said Gayle. “I’ll vouch for Perry.”
“You’re too kind,” said Sir Perryvale.
“Yes,” said Gayle, “I am.”
I reached into my pocket for the Merlin Glass, so it could make me a Door to leave by, and again it stubbornly avoided my hand.
“Oh come on!” I said. “Don’t you dare play up now!”
“It’s not the Glass,” said Sir Perryvale. “Sir Bors will have reinforced the Castle’s security wards. Once they’re set to Red Alert, nothing can get in or out. You’re trapped here, Eddie.”
I thought quickly. “Not necessarily. I can still fight my way out. Through the Knights, through the Castle, all the way to the main entrance. But not without hurting people. I don’t want to do that, but I can’t afford to be stopped. Not now. Not when Molly is depending on me.” I looked at Sir Perryvale. “How many reinforcements can Sir Bors call on?”
“Twenty Knights,” said the Seneschal. “That’s the full complement left behind to guard Castle Inconnu.”
“What about the security people?”
“Those are the security people!” said Sir Perryvale. “Twenty London Knights in their armour could stand off an army. Normally they answer to me, as Seneschal, but I don’t think they’ll be in any mood to listen to me after everything Sir Bors will have been saying about me.”
I was still thinking hard. If I did take on the London Knights, that could start a war between the Knights and the Droods. Particularly if I beat them. I could tell from the look on Sir Perryvale’s face that the same thought had occurred to him.
“My family will just have to disown me again,” I said. “Declare me rogue and throw me to the wolves, to save the family honour. I can live with that. I’ve lived with it before. Anything for Molly.”
“You really think you can take on twenty London Knights?” said Sir Perryvale.
“I have to,” I said.
“Hold everything,” said the Seneschal. “I’ve had an idea. A way out of a very dangerous situation, for all concerned. I am now declaring this a security drill. You are my invited guest, called in by me to test the Castle’s defences. To check just how secure this place really is, while the army’s away. I’m allowed to do that. Technically . . .”
I looked at him. “Your people will buy that?”
Sir Perryvale shrugged quickly. “They will if you break through them, and leave, and don’t get caught. That’ll prove my point. But, Eddie, you mustn’t kill anyone. Not even accidentally. That would mean war . . .”
“Don’t worry,” I said. “I don’t do that any more.”
“Of course, Sir Bors will never believe any of this,” said Sir Perryvale. “But luckily no one likes him much anyway. A brave enough fighter, but a stuck-up little prig.”
“I may have to get a bit rough with the Knights,” I said.
“Fuck them if they can’t take a joke,” said the Seneschal.
I looked to Gayle. “Will you be getting involved in this?”
“No,” she said. “Let the children squabble . . . But I always was a sucker for true love. So go with my blessing, Eddie Drood.”
I bowed to her, nodded to Sir Perryvale, armoured up, and left the room.
* * *
I charged down the long, winding stairway, and met Sir Bors coming up, accompanied by three other Knights. All in their armour. Sir Bors stopped and gestured quickly for the others to spread out and block the way. They hesitated a moment, impressed by my golden armour, and then moved quickly into place. I stopped and looked down at them from behind my featureless golden mask. Sir Bors levelled his sword at me.
“Surrender, Drood!”
I had to chuckle. “You haven’t met many Droods, have you?”
The long sword shot out of my golden glove, and I went down the steps to meet Sir Bors. As I expected, he didn’t wait for the others; he just stormed up the steps to confront me. He raised his sword with both hands and brought it swinging down with all his strength behind it. I waited till the last moment, and then stepped smartly to one side. The sword slammed down, missing me easily by inches, and Sir Bors staggered forward, caught off balance. I placed one armoured boot on his lowered armoured shoulder and shoved him back, hard, with all my armoured strength. Sir Bors went flying backwards and tumbled helplessly down the stairs, making a hell of a racket. He slammed into one of the other Knights, who couldn’t get out of the way fast enough, and knocked the man right off his feet. The two of them crashed down even more steps, making angry, pained noises all the way. The other two Knights jumped back to the sides, out of the way. And I ran straight through the gap they’d opened up and charged down the stairs, passing the two still-off-balance Knights along the way. A sword lashed wildly out at me as I dashed by, but it didn’t even come close. I bolted down the steps, taking them two and three at a time. I could hear some of the Knights coming after me, but they couldn’t match my armour’s speed, and I soon left them behind.
I reached the bottom of the stairway and sprinted through the open stone corridors, not even breathing hard. I could hear voices calling my family name, and not in a good way, coming from more than one direction. I ran through a portrait gallery, lined with some of the more famous faces from the Castle’s long history, all of them depicted in their armour, in a whole bunch of different styles. And as I passed them, each of the images came to life. They turned their heads to watch me go and leaned out of their frames to sound the alarm. I kept running.
At the end of the gallery, three armoured Knights appeared to block my way. They at least had the sense to hold their ground and make me come to them. There was no way past them, and no point in turning back. I had to go through them. And not kill any of them. Though I doubted they’d show me the same courtesy. I was an intruder in their home. I had sworn not to kill anyone, and especially not men like these, who thought they were the Good Guys, but I couldn’t allow myself to be stopped. Not while Molly needed me. So I slowed to a walk and went to meet them with my sword at the ready.
I cut at them savagely with my strange matter sword, which could normally cut through anything, but while sparks flared where my golden blade met their spelled swords and armour, they still held their ground. I managed to sneak a few hits past their defences, but my blade couldn’t pierce their armour. They spread out, so they could attack me from three sides at once, and only my armour’s speed allowed me to hold them off. I knew I couldn’t keep that up for long, so I concentrated on putting all my armoured strength into every blow. Just the impact of each blow was enough to send the Knights flying backwards, off balance for a moment. I slammed my shoulder into one Knight, knocking him over, and kicked the feet out from under another. The remaining Knight came straight at me, head-on; I just dodged round him and ran.
The Knights called out angrily behind me, shocked that I hadn’t done the honourable thing and fought my way free. I grinned behind my mask. Droods are trained to win. Whatever it takes.
My armour remembered the path I’d previously taken through the Castle, when I was following the Seneschal; all I had to do was trace the route in reverse. I pounded along corridors and down stairs, all of them vaguely familiar, following a glowing arrow floating on the air before me, generated by my armour, seen through my mask. But it didn’t take me long to realise this route only led back to Sir Perryvale’s bedroom. I needed the way to the main entrance. I accessed the maps stored in my armour’s memory, hoping against hope for something useful, and was astonished to find a complete floor-plan for Castle Inconnu. Some Drood must have been here before me after all. Probably my uncle Jack. Another glowing arrow appeared, and I followed it.
I was running at full speed now, pounding through the stone galleries with my arms pumping at my sides, driven forward by my own desperation and my armour’s unnatural vitality. Just a golden blur, in the depths of the Castle. I could hear people moving and shouting all around me, but none of them could match my speed, and I soon left them behind.
I passed through a long hall full of classical statues and suits of standing armour set out on display. The statues turned their heads to watch me pass, their empty mouths sounding the alarm. And one by one the suits of standing armour came alive. They lurched forward to block my way, throwing themselves at me, grabbing onto me with their shining steel arms. I threw the first few off easily enough, but more and more of them clung to me with unnatural strength, trying to pull me down. I fought them savagely, and when their heads came off and their arms tore away, I quickly discovered the suits of armour were empty. Just old armour, animated by old magic. Now that I knew I didn’t need to hold back, I tore them apart and ripped them off me, one suit at a time. I smashed them with my golden fists and cut them apart with my sword. No one wastes protective enchantments on empty suits of armour. I finally broke free and ran on again, but the time it had used up was all it took for the other Knights to catch up with me.
When I entered the next corridor, a dozen armoured Knights were waiting for me. I barely had time to stumble to a halt before they charged straight at me, yelling their battle cries. They quickly spread out to surround me, so they could come at me all at once from different sides. Glowing swords and battle-axes rained down on me as I dodged this way and that, using my armour’s speed to keep them off balance. Moving at my armour’s top speed made it seem as though they were all moving in slow motion, giving me plenty of time to anticipate their movements and avoid their attacks. But I was tired, so tired. I was the one who had to move the armour, and I had already done so much. It had been a very long day . . . I was slowing down despite myself, and they were speeding up.
I dodged and feinted, using their numbers against them. They had to be careful not to hit one another in the press of the fight, while for me everyone was a target. A sudden inspiration came to me, and I switched my sword to my left hand. Immediately, the Knights fell back, expecting a trap or a trick. I backed away, just enough that they were all arrayed before me. And then I reached through my armoured side, into my pocket dimension, and brought out one of my uncle Jack’s most dependable devices. The portable door. The Knights saw that all I had in my hand was a black plasticky blob, and they started forward again. Which was just what I wanted.
I manipulated the blob, rolling it back and forth in my hand to activate it, but instead of slapping it against the nearest wall to make a door, I threw it onto the floor before me. It immediately expanded to make a trap-door opening, and the advancing Knights fell through it before they could stop themselves, crashing down into the floor below. The sound of their armour landing made a terrible noise, and I grinned briefly behind my featureless mask.
Nice one, Armourer.
I made it the rest of the way without being stopped, or even challenged—all the way to the main entrance door. A pretty ordinary-looking door, on the far side of a great open hall. And there, standing between me and the way out, were six armoured Knights. I was so tired I almost cried at the sheer injustice of it. I was so sure I’d left them all behind. I didn’t have the strength left in me to fight my way past one angry Knight, let alone six. I staggered to a halt and tried hard to give them the impression I was studying them thoughtfully from behind my impenetrable mask, while I fought to get my breath back. My chest was heaving, my arms and legs and back ached, and my head was swimming with simple fatigue. I could feel sweat running down my face, under my mask. Drood armour can make a man more than a man, but it’s still the man who drives it.
I could tell from the way these Knights held themselves, and their glowing weapons, that they were experienced fighters. Men who knew what they were doing. I was out of strength, out of tricks, and out of time, and they knew better than to come to me and leave the door unguarded. So all that remained for me was to take the fight to them.
I’m coming to get you, Molly. I swear to God I’m coming for you.
I strode towards them, taking my time, gathering my strength, and then accelerated at the last moment, forcing my aching legs on. The armour’s speed had me in and among the Knights before they could react. I lashed out at them with my strange matter sword, with all the strength my armour could give me. But these Knights dodged my blows, or deflected them with raised swords or lowered shoulders, and stood their ground. The force behind my blows was enough to rock them on their feet, when they landed, but the Knights wouldn’t fall, or fall back. Their swords and axes flared brightly, supernaturally fierce, as they hit me from every side. The points and edges couldn’t pierce my armour, but just the terrible strength behind their blows was enough to hurt me, inside my armour. The spells laid down on their steel were enough to reach me, and damage me, beyond my armour’s protection. And all I could do was take it.
I couldn’t kill them. I wouldn’t kill them.
I lowered my head and struck out with my sword and my fist, absorbing the punishment that came at me from everywhere; forcing my way closer to the door, one stubborn step at a time. The blows came hard and fast, doing real damage, until I wanted to cry out at the pain. Swords and axes rose and fell, driving me this way and that, until I couldn’t even see them coming any more. I gritted my teeth to keep from crying out. So they wouldn’t know how badly they were hurting me. I could feel blood coursing down inside my armour. Sudden attacks sent me staggering back and forth, but I wouldn’t fall. I was damned if I’d fall. Molly needed me.
I could have drawn my Colt Repeater and shot the Knights, trusting to the strange matter bullets to punch through their armour. But that would have meant killing them—which would mean war between the Knights and the Droods. But Molly needed me . . . I couldn’t think what would be best. So hard to think, when it hurt so much . . . I lowered my head and bulled forward, into the blows and the pain, forcing my way forward one stubborn step at a time.
An axe came sweeping round impossibly fast and hit me in the side of the head, almost causing me to pass out from the impact. I hurt so bad I fell to one knee, and the Knights immediately crowded in around me, raining blows down on me, scenting victory at last. I punched one of them in the knee, slamming his leg out from under him, and he fell forward across me. I held him there, using him as protection against the blows, trying desperately to think what else I could do. And that was when the owl appeared out of nowhere.
It came sweeping across the open space at incredible speed and hit one of the Knights in the side of the head with such force that it actually dented the metal of his helmet. The impact spun the Knight around on his feet, and he fell to the floor, the sword flying from his hand. The owl spun round in a tight circle and came screeching in again, striking another Knight so hard in the chest that he was thrown over backwards. The owl swept up into the air, hooting triumphantly.
“I am stealth owl! Death from above!”
The Knights scattered, surprised and unnerved by this unexpected intervention, turning desperately this way and that to see where the next attack would come from. The owl drove the Knights away from me and yelled my name as I hauled myself painfully back onto my feet.
“Get the hell out of here, Drood! I’ll hold them off! Teach them to look down their noses at me! I am a weapon of war, dammit! I am!”
And while the Knights were still coming to terms with that, I lurched forward and made it all the way to the main entrance without being stopped. I grabbed the handle—and the door was locked. Of course it was locked. And then I heard the lock mechanism work and felt the handle turn in my grasp.
“I always was a sucker for true love,” said Gayle.
I pulled the door open and staggered out into a London street, armouring down as I went. The cool evening air was a blessing on my torn and bloody flesh. The door slammed shut behind me.