“We can get you out of here,” I said, in my most reasonable voice. “Anyone else want to shove your only hope for an escape out the door, and hope someone else will turn up to rescue you?”
There was a bit of muttering, but that was all. Margaret realised she was on her own and shut up, still glaring daggers at Molly and me.
“We’ve all been under a lot of strain,” said the vicar.
“Understood,” I said. “Hang on a bit longer. It’s almost over.”
“Can we please concentrate on these writings?” said Molly. “Before the natives start getting restless again?”
There were dozens of lines of writing, still perfectly clear after who knew how many years buried in the earth. The stone itself could have been any age, but there was something about it that made the hairs on my neck stand up. Somehow I knew this stone was ancient. . . .
“Latin,” said Molly. “Greek, old but not classical, and I’m pretty sure that . . . is Aramaic.”
“That’s a very significant combination of languages,” I said. “Put them all together and they suggest Roman Britain. Some two thousand years ago.”
“Can you read any of this?” said Molly. “I can probably bluff my way through the Latin, but the rest . . .”
“This is another of those occasions when I really wish I’d paid more attention at school,” I said.
“So you can’t read it either,” said Molly. “Typical.”
“Perhaps I can help,” the vicar said diffidently. “It’s been a long time since I studied ancient languages at Cambridge, but . . .”
“Who said the age of miracles is over?” said Molly.
The vicar smiled at her. “Get us all out of here and I’ll look it up for you. Now, then . . . Yes. Yes. Most of this is pretty obscure, but one name stands out. Joseph of Arimathea. Well, bless me. . . .”
“‘And did those feet in ancient times . . .’” I murmured. “The man who was supposed to have brought Jesus to visit Britain, during his gap year. But why would he have placed such a powerful protection stone here? Did he know something bad would happen, in this place, eventually?”
“Maybe a certain other personage told him,” said Molly. “I think we’re treading on dangerous ground, Eddie. All that matters is that we now know how, if not necessarily why, this place is protected. But I am telling you, the power contained in this stone is not limitless. Maintaining normal conditions against the pressure from outside is using up a lot of power and draining the stone dry. If we don’t get these people out of here soon . . .”
“What?” said the vicar. “What will happen?”
“Absolutely nothing,” I said. “Because we are leaving right now.”
Something banged on the locked and bolted door. A loud, aggressive sound. The door shuddered in its frame, but the lock and the bolts held. Everyone stood still and silent, staring at the door.
“Nothing’s ever been able to get that close before,” the vicar said quietly.
Something went running back and forth up on the roof: something heavy, with too many legs. It ran up and down, never pausing, never stopping. Something hit the door again, hard. The light outside was changing, the normal daylight darkening as though suffused with blood. The survivors cried out and huddled together again as strange, distorted shapes peered in through the windows.
“The circle of normality is shrinking as the stone uses up its power,” said Molly.
“I told you not to let them disturb it!” shrieked Margaret, her voice thick with imminent hysteria.
“I don’t think the conspiracy knew about the stone,” I said quietly to Molly.
“Seems likely, if even your family didn’t know,” said Molly.
“Conspiracy?” said the vicar. “Your people? What is going on here? Exactly who are your people, Mr. Drood?”
“We’re the good guys,” I said briskly. “Now hush—there’s a good vicar; we’re talking. I think the stone is a rogue element, Molly. No one knew it was here, because it didn’t activate until it was needed. The conspiracy didn’t mean to leave any survivors behind. The stone hid these people from the chaos, and the conspiracy . . . overlooked them.”
“How are we going to get all these people out of here, Eddie?” said Molly. “I can’t generate a field big enough to protect everyone if we have to walk them all the way back to the town boundary. And I sure as hell can’t teleport this many people out. So what are we going to do?”
“When in doubt,” I said cheerfully, “cheat! Or improvise, with extreme prejudice. The Merlin Glass got us in; with the stone’s power to draw on, I don’t see why it shouldn’t get us all out.”
Molly looked at me, and then at the stone. “Genius. You’re a genius! Have I told you lately that you’re a genius, Eddie? But . . . punching a doorway through all that chaos, and keeping it open, is going to take one hell of a lot of power. You could drain that stone really quickly. The hall would lose its protection, and the chaos would break in. . . .”
“Let’s not go there just yet,” I said. “Let us not even discuss it until we have to. Don’t want to panic the nice survivors, do we? Because there isn’t any other way to get everyone out of here. We could, of course, sneak off on our own and abandon all these good people. . . .”
“Well, I could,” said Molly, “but you couldn’t. You’re not made that way. Another of the things I love about you.”
“How do I love you,” I said. “Let me count the ways. . . .”
“Later,” said Molly.
She kissed me with sudden passion, and I hugged her to me, ignoring the scandalised mutterings from all sides. Then I sent her to watch the door and windows while I took out the Merlin Glass and activated it. It quickly sprang up to full size, to appreciative noises from the survivors, and I locked the doorway onto the grassy hill outside town. The image flickered unsteadily, coming and going in a very dangerous way. Not at all what you want to see in a teleport device. I took the Arimathea stone and placed it carefully under the Glass, and the image cleared and settled. The Glass had tapped into the stone’s power.
The vicar stepped forward and peered at what was on the other side of the Glass. His eyes were wide with simple wonder, and he smiled like a child.
“It’s real . . .” he said. “I can feel the wind blowing through, smell the grass. . . . What is this?”
“Your ticket home,” I said. “Gather your flock together, and let’s get the flock out of here. Molly and I will be right behind you.”
The vicar nodded quickly, rounded up his people and drove them through the Merlin Glass with encouragement, discipline and the occasional burst of harsh language. There’s no one like a vicar when it comes to organising people. He chivvied them from one side, inspired them from another and drove the rest through the Glass like a collie dog with a flock of sheep. A lot of people were nervous about the Glass and didn’t want to be rushed, but no one wanted to be left behind. I made several circuits of the hall as they filed through, checking for weak spots and the sound of anything breaking in. But it wasn’t until the last few survivors were queuing up that something large and bulky smashed the door in.
There was no warning. One moment the door was securely closed, and the next it was flying across the hall, blasted right off its hinges. The broken bolts flew through the air like shrapnel. Something dark and twisted filled the doorway, light glowing from sickly yellow eyes. I stepped quickly forward, armouring up as I went, and punched it in the head. I put all my strength into the blow, and I felt bone shatter under the impact. My golden hand drove on deep into its misshapen head. And something inside the head closed around my fist and held it there. I struggled to pull my hand free and couldn’t. Arms with too many joints unfolded from the creature’s sides, and clawed hands slammed against my armour, scrabbling against the strange matter as they tried to force their way in.
Since I couldn’t pull my hand out, I steadied myself and pushed it deeper in, until it burst out the back of the creature’s head. It squealed once, a high tremolo that pained my ears, and thick purple blood jetted from the back of the head. I put my other hand on its face, golden fingers thrusting deep into the yellow eyes, braced myself and yanked the other hand out. Then I shoved the creature hard on the chest, driving it backwards, and moved forward to fill the doorway, so nothing could get past me. Outside, the circle of normality was gone. The stone’s protection had retreated right back to the walls of the Old Market Hall, and soon it wouldn’t even reach them. I yelled for Molly to get the last of the survivors through the Glass.