Shadows Fall

  “What do you know about the Imperial Leader’s present whereabouts?” he said casually. “We haven’t heard from him since he went to visit the Sarcophagus in the town park. What could have happened to him there?”

  Rhea shrugged dully. “Anything. The park’s a dangerous place at night. There are dinosaurs. Maybe they got him. Or Time.”

  “Old Father Time,” said Williams distastefully. “He may hide behind a child’s name here, but we know who he is. Who he has to be. The Fallen One, the Lord of Flies; the Great Enemy himself. No doubt he was responsible for the death of our sorcerer priests.”

  He stopped suddenly, realizing that he’d miscalculated. He’d thought the Frazier woman had broken under her treatment, but she was looking at him now in a calm, thoughtful way that showed she understood the implications of what he was saying. The Warriors’ Leader was missing, and one of their most powerful forces had been neutralized. He’d underestimated her. He wouldn’t do that again. For the moment, it was important he regain control of the situation. He gestured to the soldier holding her hair.

  “Release her from the handcuffs.” He waited patiently while the soldier did so. “Now stretch out her left hand before her, and hold it steady on the floor.” Rhea began to struggle then, but she was no match for the soldier in her weakened state. Williams waited till the hand was positioned where he wanted it, and then smiled coldly at Rhea. “What’s going to happen now is very simple, Mayor Frazier. I am going to ask you questions about the town’s strengths and weaknesses, and you are going to answer me fully and truthfully. If you lie to me, I’ll cut off one of your fingers. If you run out of fingers on the left hand, we’ll move to the right. If you run out of fingers entirely, I’ll get inventive. And just to prove that you should take me very seriously, I think we’ll remove the little finger on your left hand now. Hold her steady.”

  He leant down to reach for her hand, and Rhea lunged forward. The suddenness of the move caught them all by surprise, and her head slammed into his face. She felt as much as heard his nose break under the impact, and then all of them were sprawling on the floor. She scrambled to her feet, kicked away the soldier as he grabbed for her, and then turned to the other soldier who’d brought her in and punched him in the throat. He sank to the floor making horrid coughing noises, and Rhea ran for the door. Behind her she could hear Williams calling for someone to stop her. She tried to hurry, but her balance was still uncertain, and she crashed into a pile of books. She fell over them, landed heavily, and was still trying to find the strength to get to her feet when hands grabbed her from behind and pulled her back from the door.

  And then suddenly, everything stopped. The hands holding her fell away, and she was left on her knees, facing the door. Someone was standing there, and it took Rhea a long moment to recognize the ragged figure in his shabby clothes. Jack Fetch grinned down at her with his fixed smile, and then stalked past her on twiggy feet. There was a brief pause as the Templars grabbed for the guns they’d put aside to carry books, and then everyone opened up at once on the advancing scarecrow. Bullets pounded him from every direction, knocking him this way and that and raising puffs of smoke from his torn rags, but he was not alive and never had been and didn’t give a damn for their bullets. He leapt forward into the midst of the Warriors, and his hands closed remorselessly on living flesh. He raged through the Library, overturning the stacks on soldiers and throwing bloodied men about him like broken dolls. Some Warriors broke and ran, while others fired blindly, not caring if they shot their own men in their desperation to stop Jack Fetch.

  Rhea watched from the doorway, but didn’t move until Major Williams emerged out of the chaos and pointed a gun at her. There was blood on his face, and he was shouting something, but it was drowned out in the bedlam. It didn’t matter anyway; the gun in his hand was clear enough. She tried to get up, but her legs weren’t strong enough yet. She backed away on her ass, and Williams came after her. And then suddenly, someone was standing between her and the Warrior. Williams fired anyway, but the newcomer just laughed softly and snatched the bullet out of mid-air. He hefted it casually in his hand and then threw it calmly aside as Williams gaped incredulously. Rhea looked up at the newcomer, and he turned back to smile down at her.

  “Don’t worry, love,” said Leonard Ash. “Everything’s going to be all right.”

  Williams threw the gun at Ash and turned to run. Ash caught him inside half a dozen steps, picked him up with one hand and threw him face first into the nearest wall. The plaster cracked raggedly under the impact. Williams slid slowly to the floor and lay there, twitching. Ash came back and helped Rhea to her feet, and she clung to him with all her remaining strength, as though afraid he might disappear again if she lost hold of him. He murmured soothingly to her, and her breathing finally slowed back to normal.

  “You really shouldn’t have worried,” Ash said finally. “I’m dead, remember? You can’t kill a man who’s already dead. I was brought back for a purpose, and until I find out what it is, I can’t rest. It took me a while to get myself together and then track you down, but I got here as soon as I could. Let’s get out of here. Jack seems to have everything nicely under control. He’s much better at fighting than I am. I go all to pieces.”

  Rhea hit him in the chest. There wasn’t much strength behind the blow, but he grunted obligingly anyway.

  “Go and fetch Williams,” she said, pushing herself away from Ash. “I have to talk to him. Maybe now he’ll listen to reason.”

  Ash shrugged, went over and picked up Williams, and brought him back. The Major was unsteady on his feet, and blood was dripping from his broken nose, but his eyes were clear.

  “We have to stop the fighting,” said Rhea shortly. “Too many have died already. I speak for the town, you can speak for the Warriors. As Mayor of Shadows Fall, I am prepared to discuss terms for your surrender.”

  Williams laughed breathlessly. “Your town is an abomination, a breeding ground of sinners and unnatural creatures. I’ll see it burned to the ground and everyone in it slaughtered before I call off my men. Your very existence is an offence. To Hell with you.”

  He produced a knife from somewhere, and Ash moved quickly to step between Williams and Rhea, but the Major turned the knife on himself, and thrust it unflinchingly into his own heart. He slumped over sideways, and lay still. Ash stirred the body with his foot, but there was no response.

  “Fanatic,” said Ash. “We can’t deal with these people, Rhea. It’s us or them. Us or them.”

  —

  The Warriors came running through the town like panicked cattle, pursued by an enemy they couldn’t face. They ran blindly, paying no attention to where they were or where they were going, knowing only that the music which still roared in their heads and in their hearts had undone them. They ran, and behind them came Sean Morrison and his fellow musicians, and all the ranks of Faerie. The Warriors didn’t look back; they didn’t dare. All that mattered to them now was their desperate need to get out of this terrible town that wasn’t at all what they’d expected. They threw away their guns and ammunition as they ran; useless to them now and too heavy to carry far. Harpies and lamia had torn their helicopters from the skies, and the tanks and troop transporters had disappeared into the gaping maw of Cromm Cruach, the Great Wurm. The Warriors ran shouting and sobbing and screaming through the devastated and fire-blackened streets, and the music drove them on like a whip. There was magic and power in the music, and the Warriors’ vain, self-satisfied faith wasn’t enough in the face of real glory.

  In another street, in another part of the town, more Warriors were running, pursued by Jack Fetch, Leonard Ash and Rhea Frazier. Not many soldiers, perhaps a hundred or so, but all of them so demoralized by what they’d seen the ghost and the scarecrow do that there was room for nothing in their hearts but flight. They ran till their legs ached and their lungs laboured, and behind them came a ragged figure with a carved smile, that never grew tired. Ash and Rhea followed behind in a
Warrior jeep, happy in each other’s company. The Warriors ran, and the three Furies of vengeance followed close behind, snapping at their heels.

  And down another street came more Warriors, the last fleeing remnants of what had once been a great army. They cast aside their weapons in their panic, for behind them came the Devil himself, or so they thought. But it was just a man, coming at last into his awesome power. James Hart, the man of prophesy, and in him ran all the power of the town, and of Time. He floated on the air, swept above and along by his magic, and some distance behind, following as best they could, came Polly Cousins and Suzanne Dubois. Their injuries no longer bothered them, for he had healed them all at a touch, but even so they were hard put to keep up with the chase. Hart had forgotten they were there, dazzled by the light of his own glory. The two women struggled on after him, not wanting to be left behind, but scared to get too close. This wasn’t the man they’d known, or thought they’d known. This James Hart was someone new, someone different and very dangerous.

  And finally, almost as though the town had planned it that way, the three streams of fleeing soldiers all came together in one place, in the vast open prospect of Gorky Square. They slowed to a halt as they became a milling, confused crowd, and looked around to see where their flight had brought them. The Square was a great open space in the heart of the city, bounded on all sides by huge towering buildings of ancient stone, brooding over the Square like so many grey mountains. The soldiers looked for a way out, but all the routes were blocked. Suddenly, everything was quiet.

  Down one avenue stood the Faerie, with Morrison and his musicians at their head, silent at last. Down another stood Jack Fetch with blood on his hands, and with him Ash and Rhea, gazing in silent wonder at the trapped and demoralized army before them. In the third approach stood James Hart, wrapped in his glory, standing at the edge of the Square in silent judgement. The last avenue slowly filled with light, showing itself open and empty. A quiet murmur ran through the soldiers, only to stop abruptly as the ground suddenly split open and apart, forming a great chasm through which could be seen the sickly white flesh of the Great Wurm.

  The murmuring began again as the soldiers realized they were trapped and surrounded. The watching forces readied themselves. Nothing fights more viciously than a cornered rat. Officers raised their voices here and there among the Warriors, demanding the soldiers fight to the last man, with their bare hands if need be. God’s name was invoked many times, as a spur and a threat. The soldiers looked at each other, and then at the forces surrounding them, who stared impassively back. An officer raised his voice threateningly, and a shot rang out. The officer fell dead to the ground, the soldiers around him backing away, and it was a long tense moment before everyone realized the shot had come from inside the crowd. A ripple ran through the packed crowd as both soldiers and officers became aware which way most guns were facing. And then an officer made his way out of the crowd, followed by a soldier pressing a gun into his back, and they slowly approached Rhea Frazier. She went forward to meet him, with Ash a watchful presence at her side.

  The officer bowed, just a little sardonically. “You are the Mayor of this town, I believe. Apparently, we wish to surrender.”

  “I think that would be best,” said Rhea steadily. “No conditions, but rest assured you’ll be treated better by us than we would have been by you.”

  “We never stood a chance,” said the officer, not bothering to keep the bitterness from his voice. “We’ve lost contact with our Leader, the sorcerer priests are dead, and our transport is lost or destroyed. God has made his will known. He has turned away from us.”

  “Besides,” said the soldier behind him, “they lied to us. This town isn’t what we were told it was. They told us we’d be fighting demons and witches and unnatural creatures, for the greater glory of God. No one said anything about women and children and childhood heroes. We came to rescue and avenge the innocent, and found ourselves slaughtering them instead. We’ve seen things here; strange things, marvellous things… the town isn’t what they said it was.”

  “No,” said the soldier Peter Caulder, stepping forward from the ranks of Faerie with Bruin Bear at his side. “It’s much more. This is a place of dreams and wonders, and we ran amok here like spiteful children in a cathedral, destroying what we could not understand or appreciate. No more fighting. No more killing. We’ve done enough damage here. This is the place where our dreams live. We couldn’t have destroyed it, without destroying ourselves as well.”

  And then, one by one throughout the great dispirited crowd, the soldiers dropped their remaining weapons, and raised their hands above their heads. The general tension slowly began to relax, as everyone in and outside the Square realized that the fighting was over. The war for Shadows Fall had come to its end, and they’d come through it alive. Men turned to each other and smiled and laughed and embraced each other, relief washing through them like a blessing. Ash draped a companionable arm round Rhea’s shoulders.

  “So, madam Mayor, what do we do now? We won, but the town’s a ruin. And what are we to do with our prisoners of war? We haven’t the facilities to lock them up or guard them, but we can’t just let them go. Not after everything that’s happened here. The townspeople would never stand for it. I’m not sure I would either.”

  “The officers will stand trial,” said Rhea. “As will anyone responsible for an atrocity that can be identified. The rest… were just soldiers, doing what they believed was right. They were lied to, and they know better now. They will stay here and become part of the town. They’ll want to make atonement, and this way they can. They can start by burying the dead from both sides, and then they can set about rebuilding all the places they destroyed. By the time that’s finished years will have passed, long enough for forgiveness from both sides.”

  Ash nodded, and for a time they stood in silence, lost in their own thoughts. Finally, Ash stirred. “I wonder what did happen to their Imperial Leader?”

  Rhea shrugged. “I don’t know. Probably we’ll never know. Maybe he just ran out of Time.”

  —

  Royce’s men heaved and strained to close the heavy door against the pressure of the raging blizzard outside. Thick bursts of snow blew past them, spilling into the Hall. There were twelve of them altogether, and it still took their combined strength to force the door closed, inch by inch. Finally they got it shut, slammed home the heavy bolts, and then leaned limply against the door while they got their breath back. A few stray specks of snow still floated on the air, driven into All Hallows Hall by the unrelenting pressure of the storm outside. Royce and his people beat snow from their hair and clothes and looked around them. They’d come a long hard way to reach this place, and it rewarded them by being just as huge and impressive as they’d imagined it to be. The ceiling disappeared into the darkness high above, and the Hall was wide enough to drive a troop carrier through. It was also very quiet, the storm outside not even a murmur, for all its fury.

  William Royce, Imperial Leader of the Warriors of the Cross, allowed himself to feel a small glow of satisfaction. He had sworn to come to this place, despite whatever obstacles Fate placed in his path, and he had done it. From here it was only a short walk to the Gallery of Frost and the Forever Door. He stood quietly, savouring the moment, while his men formed a defensive perimeter around him. They were good men, good soldiers. He’d picked and trained them personally down the years to be his elite guard. He trusted them with his life; perhaps the only ones he did trust. They weren’t going to like being told to stay behind here while he went on into the Hall alone. But this was his moment, his destiny, and he would not share what lay ahead with anyone. He was finally near his goal, only moments away from opening the Forever Door and asking the question he’d waited a lifetime to ask. To know the answer at last…

  He raised his voice, and the twelve men snapped to attention. Royce looked them over, allowing them to see a little of his jubilation, and then told them his intention. He was ri
ght, they didn’t like it, but none of them questioned him or his plan. He’d taught them well. They were his, body and soul, and they would no more have questioned him than the God they both served. Royce ordered them to stand guard by the entrance to the Hall, and see to it that no one got the chance to follow him. Anyone they encountered was to be killed on sight, no exceptions, and they were to hold this position till he returned, no matter how long that might be. They nodded silently, and saluted him. He saluted them back, smiled briefly, and then set off into the gloom of the Hall.

  The guards watched him go until he’d disappeared into the dark, and then spread out to cover the entrance to the Hall. They knew what to do. Royce had rehearsed them enough times. Even so, the sheer size of the Hall made them nervous. Every sound echoed endlessly on the quiet, and shadows seemed to move at the corners of their eyes. The soldiers hefted their guns professionally, and kept a watchful eye on the door. Which was at least partly why they never saw the girl named Mad creeping up behind them till it was far too late.

  Madeleine Kresh slipped silently through the shadows, her dark leathers blending seamlessly into the gloom. She’d removed all her usual chains and ornaments, so they wouldn’t give her away with any betraying gleam or sound. She eased up behind the nearest guard, scowling with concentration. The flick-knife was a comforting weight in her hand, ready for use. She’d changed her usual black and white makeup for a more neutral grey that would hide her face in the shadows, and greased down her mohawk haircut so that its movement wouldn’t give her away. Mad was the last defender between Time and these people, and she was determined not to let him down. Whatever it took.

  She took a deep breath, slid smoothly out of the shadows and took the guard from behind with brutal simplicity. A hand over his mouth to stifle any outcry, the knife between his ribs, and then all she had to do was drag his body back into the shadows before anyone had a chance to notice anything. She let the limp body drop quietly to the floor, and checked quickly about her. Everything was quiet. It had all been over in a moment. Mad stuck the knife neatly through one of the guard’s eyes, just to be sure, and then readied herself for her next target. She grinned broadly. She was doing what she’d been born to do, and it felt great. She’d waited a long time to repay Time’s kindness, but even though she fully intended to get through this as quickly as possible so that she could get back to Time’s side, she wasn’t going to hurry this. She was enjoying herself. She’d seen what had happened to the town in the Gallery’s portraits, and it was payback time. She might not live in the town, but it was still her town. Mad’s loyalties were few and uncomplicated, and she liked it that way. She peeked out of the shadows at her next target, and deliberately made a brief scuffing noise with her foot. The guard looked round, frowning, certain he’d heard something but not sure what. Mad made the sound again, and the guard headed towards her. Madeleine Kresh smiled, and readied her knife.