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  She nodded.

  After a quick discussion with Justin and Darren who equally couldn’t see the sense of her going with the soldiers, Kat, Vic, and three others set out traipsing over the snow-covered field. Each were now wearing snow shoes, allowing them to walk above most of the snow, without sinking down into it.

  As they grew closer to the two-storey Victorian farmhouse, the large sheet painted with red writing flapped in the wind.

  “Harris, Boothe go around the back. Shin you’re with me.”

  Vic, Kat, and the soldier walked towards the house. The snow was above halfway up the ground-floor windows. Vic got down on all fours and looked into the gloom of a messy living room. Boxes and empty food packets laid strew across the floor.

  “Someones definitely been living here. But I’m not seeing anyone.” He got back to his feet as the two other soldiers appeared. “Anything?” he said to them. They shook their heads. “We need to gain access.” He looked up at the first-floor windows about six feet away, then at the closest soldier. “Give me a hoist up.”

  Soon Vic was pulling himself up onto an icy window ledge. Scraping the ice from the glass he peered into a small pleasant-looking but empty room. He jostled the old window frame a few times, but it wouldn’t budge. He then took the butt of his rifle, faced away, and slammed it into one of the panels, which instantly shattered falling inside. Reaching in, he pulled the latch up, and pushed the window in the same direction.

  “Get yourselves up here,” he said to the other soldiers, then just as he was about to clamber inside stopped.

  “What is it?” shouted Kat.

  Vic was looking down at hundreds of imprints of feet in the snow all around the house. “Er . . . nothing, I’m going in.” He turned and disappeared inside.

  Kat watched him disappear through the window and looked about her, realising what he had just seen. She then looked back at the house. Someone was here, she was sure of it.

  As she stamped her feet and wrapped her arms around herself to keep warm, she heard the noises from inside.

  After a few minutes, Vic’s head appeared through the window he opened. “The house is empty. They must have been evacuated. We’re coming out.”

  Kat shook her head. “No, there’s someone here, I know it.”

  “How do you know it?”

  Kat walked forward, then tried jumping up to the window ledge. “I need to see for myself.”

  “We’ve searched every room, there’s nobody here!” He sighed and lowered his arm, so she could grab hold of it.

  He pulled her up, and they both moved back into the bedroom. Two other soldiers appeared. Vic looked at her, his expression showing his bewilderment at what she thought she might find.

  Kat looked about the room. Floral wallpaper, mixed with the same patterned bed linen. Something felt wrong, but she couldn’t pin it down. She thought about using magic to try and find the person she was sure was inside but, looking at the faces watching her, thought better of it. Instead she walked past the men looking at her, and out onto the first-floor landing. Pictures of an elderly couple covered the walls, together with a much younger woman. There was something about her that caught Kat’s eye. She looked up to pull the picture from the wall, when an idea occurred to her.

  She looked up at the ceiling, then back at Vic in the nearby room. “Did you check the loft?”

  He looked at the two men next to him, who shook their heads. He sighed, then joined Kat on the landing, looking for access to the space above them. Soon they found a small square door. Standing on a chair, Vic pushed the wooden door upwards. The smell of life immediately wafted out. He pushed the door to the side, then pulled himself up.

  “What is it? What do you see?” said Kat.

  “I . . . I’ve found someone, a girl. She’s unconscious.” Vic then radioed for Hunt to join them.

  * * * * *

  Kat, Vic, Hunt, and two other soldiers looked at the blonde-haired young woman covered in blankets, leaning back against the metal wall of the inside of the APC. Hunt managed to get her to regain consciousness but she was dehydrated and malnourished and kept slipping in and out of sleep. They still didn’t know her name.

  Her hand started to move, and Hunt held it. “Can you hear me?” he said.

  Scratchy words emanated from her lips.

  He placed a bottle of water in her hands, which he helped lift to her mouth. After taking a few sips, he tried again. “You’re in a military vehicle on the way to the Rochester evac camp.”

  The girl’s eyes filtered open, first resting on Hunt, and then she slowly looked around the faces that were looking at her. Finally she looked at Kat, who was obviously dressed differently to the others. “Who are you?” she mumbled.

  “I’m Kat Ambrose, I—”

  The girl’s eyes drifted close again.

  Hunt looked at Kat. “She’s improving. She just needs more rest.”

  The convoy continued on its bumpy journey. After a while they stopped and Greene ducked back inside. “This is the start of Tunbridge Wells, where to now?” he said, looking at Kat.

  “I don’t know, I need to talk to Justin.”

  The rear hatch of the APC opened and Vic got out, disappearing around the back of the truck.

  Justin and he then both appeared and the younger man looked around at the white covered trees and fields around them.

  Justin felt like he should recognize the surroundings, but everything was so buried under mounds of snow that it was hard to tell one lump from another.

  He looked at Vic. “You know where in Tunbridge Wells we are?”

  “I was hoping you’d tell me!”

  Justin walked a few steps forward. “Just keep heading south, I’ll recognize something at some point.”

  They both got back into the APC. Justin sat next to Kat and the convoy started moving forward again, avoiding mounds and fallen trees.

  Greene allowed Justin to look out of the top every once in a while and sure enough some of the scenery started making sense.

  “One-hundred yards or so, then we take a left down a lane.”

  Justin wasn’t sure they would fit into the narrow road, with hedgerows on both sides, but soon he was asking them to stop just outside a large iron gate. On a wall nearby, a metal sign said, “The Old Vicarage.”

  “We’re here.”

  The APC’s hatch opened and he scampered out the back and walked up to the gates. Old walls covered in snow and ivy ran away on both sides, hiding huge twisted trunks belonging to trees that had been around since early Victorian days.

  Vic and some other soldiers climbed out and stood with Justin. “These gates are never locked. I just need to push them back.”

  Vic walked forward and the two of them leaned their shoulders on the iron bars and slid the gates backwards enough for them to pass inside.

  “I always wanted a house that I couldn’t see from the road,” said Mills walking up the snowy path towards Justin’s ancestral home.

  Soon, chimneys and spires covered in white appeared through the branches of the trees then pointed roofs and large bay windows.

  Everyone was impressed by the gothic-revival-style Victorian house, apart from Justin who just kept his head down and walked towards the large arch which covered a red wooden front door.

  He pulled the wrought iron lions head back and let it drop, sending a suitably loud knock into the cold air around them. After a few seconds he tried again. Both times with no response.

  Vic looked at Mills and Hunt. “Have a look around back.”

  Justin walked ahead of them and skirted past the windows then disappeared through some bushes.

  It had been a few weeks since he had been back here, but it felt like months. Walking to the old workshop where his father kept the gardening tools, he pulled the rickety door open, and walked into the musty interior. Walking a few feet forward, he opened an open metal box, reached down inside, and pulled out a key.

  Mills appeared in the
doorway behind him. “What you got there?”

  Justin held up what he was looking for. “A backup key to the house, it’s in case one of us can’t get in.” He then walked outside and up to the nearby side entrance. Sliding the key in the hole, he pulled the handle down then paused slightly. He then pushed the door open.

  “Hello?” he shouted, but instinctively felt that there was no one home, at least no one alive. He looked around the hallway. His father’s favourite coat was missing.

  That’s a good sign.

  Kat, Vic, and the other soldiers appeared behind him.

  “I don’t think he’s here,” said Justin.

  “OK, well my men will have a look around anyway if that’s OK. While they’re doing that, grab what you need. I want to be back on the road within twenty minutes.”

  “Umm, I’m not going.”

  Kat and Vic both looked surprised.

  “You can’t stay here! There’s no electricity and probably no water,” said Kat.

  Before Justin could reply, Mills appeared from a nearby room with an envelope in her hand. “I found this on a desk, it’s addressed to you,” she said handing it to Justin.

  “I’ll give you some privacy. Where’s the privy in this place?” said Vic.

  “Up the stairs, first floor, second door on the right.”

  Vic nodded and left.

  Kat wasn’t sure if she should give the young man the same space.

  He noticed her looking awkward. “It’s OK.” He then pulled a single sheet of paper from the envelope and started reading.

  “Justin,

  By now what is happening must be obvious to you. I’m sorry that you got caught up in Oxford. Things weren’t meant to turn out like that. They will come for me I’m sure of it, so I’m writing these words now, because I won’t have time later. Next to this letter, is the key to the top left drawer in my private desk. You will find some answers in there. Until we meet again.

  Dad.”

  Justin looked up, still holding the letter in his hand.

  “What is it? Has your dad told you where he’s gone?” said Kat.

  “No . . .”

  Justin then walked quickly into his father’s study. A small silver key sat on the desk. Quickly walking to it, he slid it into the top-drawer keyhole and pulled the drawer open. A small pile of thick leather-bound journals looked up at him, each one with a seven-pointed symbol on the cover.

  “What’s in the drawer?” said Kat.

  Justin lifted the top journal out and placed it gently on the desk. He went to open it when Darren appeared in the doorway, with Chip in tow.

  “Cool house. What you got—” Kat shot Darren a look and he clamped his teeth together.

  Justin pulled the cover open.

  “The House of Pendragon. Journal by Nathan Pendridge 2010-2017” Was written in his father’s handwriting. Turning the pages revealed weekly entries, which became less frequent as time progressed.

  Justin read the final entry to himself.

  I’m told the cyning has arrived as the prophecies foretold. Now it truly begins.

  CHAPTER 17

  “I was promised my son would have a seat at your table!” said a man who looked older than his fifty some years. He glared at Goran.

  The wiry man stood in front of a huge dark oak table, which rested at the end of the once-grand banquet hall. The cyning sat behind it reading an encyclopaedia from the late twentieth century.

  Goran sighed. “And he would have done, if he had not sided with the other houses. Now his fate is out of hands.”

  “I worked hard for you and your sire to—” Nathan Pendridge grabbed his own throat as the rest of his words refused to emerge.

  One of the rings on the bearded man’s hand was glowing. “Your son has made an unfortunate choice, Mr. Pendridge . . .” The cyning looked up from the books and smiled while Nathan still struggled to talk. “But I am a practical ruler. If he sees the error of his ways and helps us achieve our goals, I will give him a second chance. Find him. Convince him to see what is in his and the realms best interest.”

  Nathan let out a breath and bent over breathing in heavily. “I don't know where—he—is.”

  The cyning returned to looking at the books.

  “It is lucky for you that we keep a close eye on matters. He is at your abode, in the far south of the realm,” said Goran who then looked at a young woman who was leaning back in a chair, with her feet resting on the end of the table. “Ms. Guaire we are in need of your services. Take Mr Pendridge to his home and return with the boy.”

  The woman rolled her eyes and sighed.

  “Can you do that, Aithne,” said the bearded man without looking up from the books.

  The woman with red hair in a ponytail got to her feet. “Of course, sire.”

  “Good, you can both leave now.”

  The woman walked to Nathan and they walked over the cold stones to the door which was already open.

  As Nathan left the hall, he heard the man with the three rings make some dismissive comment about atomic weapons.

  The dark elves closed the two doors behind them and stood guard once more. The sensation of being strangled was thankfully passing and his heart rate had returned to something near normal. The memory of the power the bearded man possessed remained sharp though.

  He glanced at the dark-purple-skinned beings that stood at least a foot taller than him, bound in black and silver armour. He was sure the cyning didn’t need them, but they provided a useful reminder of who was the new boss in the world of the nine houses.

  “Do you have what you need on you, or do you need to get your things?” said Aithne.

  “I need to get my bag, it’s in my room.”

  “I’ll be on the ramparts, don’t make me wait long.” She walked off, disappearing up some spiral stairs.

  As Nathan walked through the corridors, back to his living quarters, his thoughts turned to his son, Justin. He must know of this world by now. He wondered where he was and when he would get a chance to do as the cyning requested. To convince him that the seven houses would not stand a chance against the newly arrived cyning and the other two, especially once the grand portals were up and working again.

  He almost shuddered with the thought of what would be coming through the magical gateways, and a bitter taste settled at the bottom of his mouth. He had always been aware of the old scrolls that foretold of what was now playing out up and down the country, ever since his grandfather left them to him in his will, and he had spent most of his son’s young life preparing for what he was convinced was inevitable. But he still hated the carnage that had already happened as the result of the prophecies. But what choice did he have? He and his son were descended from Uther and the ancient scrolls laid out clearly, that whichever of the various descendants of the houses was of twenty-one years at the time of the upheaval would play a major role in what came next. From the moment his son was conceived, he knew Justin would be of the right age at the right time.

  He pushed the door open to his modest room and sat on the bed. Taking a deep breath, he quickly moved around, placing in his backpack what he thought he might need. He also wrapped himself well in winter garments as he knew his transport would not allow for much comfort amongst the icy conditions.

  Blowing out some candles, he closed the door to his room and quickly made his way up the stone stairs to one of the highest points of the castle. He spotted Aithne. As he walked along the ramparts he readied himself for the hundred-mile journey on the back of a dragon.

  * * * * *

  “We’re going to be off then,” said Vic standing in the hallway of Justin’s home. “Darren has my radio frequency, so if you get into any problems, contact us. If we’re in the area, we’ll try to help.” He then looked down at the crate sitting on the floor. Inside were three assault rifles with spare magazines. “Normally I wouldn’t be leaving that kind of hardware with umm—”

  “Kids?” said Darren. Kat frown
ed at him.

  Vic continued. “Well . . . civilians, but these are not normal times. Justin tells me there’s plenty of food here, so you should be good for a few months.” He nodded with a smile, then disappeared out of the front door.

  The sun was rapidly heading beneath the horizon and snow looked pink in the late afternoon glow.

  Outside Algorine walked past Vic with an armful of chopped wood. “You’ve been busy,” he said.

  “Good practice with the blade.”

  “Right . . .”

  She kept walking towards the house. “See you around soldier boy.”

  Kat walked into the good-sized living room. Flames were already growing inside the large fireplace and filled the air with warmth. Justin sat in a nearby armchair, looking into the fire. She went to say something, when Algorine appeared and dumped the wood on the floor.

  “This should keep us warm for most of the night. And I presume there’s not many ghouls out here to be attracted to the light or smoke.” She looked at the young man whose gaze hadn’t moved. “Are their guest bedrooms, or do we just sleep where we like?”

  “Wherever you want,” said Justin, without moving his head.

  She nodded and left the room, leaving Kat and Justin alone again. Kat sat in the chair opposite him.

  “My father was always involved in all of this and he never told me . . .” Before she could reply he continued. “My whole life’s a fraud!”

  She wasn’t sure how to respond. It seemed that Arnold had always kept the world of the order away from her and her mother as well, and she had a distinct feeling of unreality when finding out that her grandfather was some kind of master of magic. She couldn’t imagine what it would have been like finding out her mother was involved as well and never told her. She then had a thought. Did my father know?

  She shook the idea, and focused back on the young man in front of her. “Look, right now we are safe. At least I think we are. We have Algorine with us, and I’ve got this.” She held up her ring hand.