'You've got a thing against Christianity, haven't you?'
'Not against the Faith, no,' she replied. 'There are lots of different roads leading to the same mystery — people take the one that suits them. But I've got a thing against the men… and it always is men… who come to control a religion and impose their own prejudices on it. There's an argument that paganism is weaker than Christianity because it's never provided any martyrs. But then there's not been any oppression, torture and war in its name, either. And remember this, Mallory: at its heart, Britain is a pagan country. Christianity has standing because it's the State religion. But you go out to Cornwall or Wales or Scotiand and the old beliefs still prosper. Even in the heartland of England, in the industrial centres, you strip away the lip service to a religion that's been taught from birth and you find an instinctual acceptance of the old ways, though people don't often realise it.'
Mallory shielded his eyes against the snow-glare. He had a sudden shaky feeling they were being watched. 'So that could be one reason why the cathedral was moved to its new location. It was in conflict with what was already there.' He recalled James hinting at something similar.
'The gods at Old Sarum are still strong. In times past they were stronger still,' Sophie said.
'And that's who we're going to talk to,' Mallory said. He looked at the lonely, windswept hill, remembered the crackling old man's voice, the presence in the dark that was there and then not there, and felt his apprehension rise.
By the time they reached the entrance to Old Sarum on the main road it was mid-afternoon and the sun was already falling. 'We'd better hurry,' Sophie said. 'I want to get this over before nightfall. They're much more powerful then. They might not let us leave.'
They followed the winding path towards the car park. As they came over a rise, the ancient fort was presented to them. This time, Mallory saw it in a new light: the history of an ancient struggle written in the landscape. There were the prehistoric outer ramparts dating back to Neolithic times more than 5,000 years earlier; the Iron-Age defences from 2,500 years ago when Stonehenge was a great religious centre; the Roman roads converging on the site from several directions, marking its significance 1,900 years ago. By that measure, Christianity had been there hardly any time at all. The cathedral had been built off to one side of the old Saxon town on the summit shortly after the Norman Conquest, less than a thousand years ago.
As they walked past the deserted car park, the old defences rising up before them, Mallory became aware of a heightened atmosphere: tension filled the air, becoming more oppressive the further they advanced.
'Can you feel it?' Sophie said redundantly.
The sun was insipid, the clouds occasionally obscuring it; Mallory tried to estimate how long they had before it finally set.
'I don't know how I'm going to get in touch with them,' he said. 'I'm just kind of hoping they'll come when I call.'
'I knew there was a good reason why I came along,' Sophie replied. 'I can help.' She looked around, distracted. 'Magic is about symbolism,' she said. 'It's all around us. Look over there — yew trees. They mark the passage between this life and another, and grow in abundance at these places where it's possible to cross over. The Church used that symbolism by planting yews in graveyards.'
'I'm not ready to cross over in that way.'
Sophie didn't appear to hear. They paused at the wooden bridge crossing the ditch to the old Norman castle; the gates that Mallory had scrambled over with Miller had now been torn asunder.
They passed amongst the ruins of the gatehouse into the inner bailey. Within the remaining fortifications, the silence had an overwhelming quality, as if the entire place was holding its breath. The snow lay thick and undisturbed across the circular area of the inner stronghold. The raised ramparts prevented any view of the surrounding countryside and cast a long, cold shadow over half of the interior, warning of the impending end of daylight.
Ahead of them lay the corbelled flint of what was left of the great tower. To the right were the remains of the royal palace. Sophie closed her eyes, swaying slightly, before striding purposefully to the centre of the site.
Mallory waited patiently while she drew a circle around them in the snow and then marked the cardinal points. She had already collected items from outside the site — what to Mallory had seemed only leaves and other pieces of dead vegetation — and these she deposited at intervals around the circumference. When she had finished this, she squatted down with her back to Mallory and began to whisper so he couldn't make out her words.
This continued for ten full minutes. Despite his thick cloak, Mallory began to shiver as a cold wind blew up from nowhere. Sophie stood, a little shakily, and leaned on him for support. 'It's done,' she said.
'What now?'
'We'll see.' She bit her lip.
The wind continued to blow, and after a while Mallory realised it was sweeping back and forth with a life of its own. He had the uncomfortable feeling that something was searching for a way through the circle.
'Over there,' Sophie whispered.
She pointed towards what Mallory at first took to be a glistening patch of snow. It shimmered just above the rim of the Iron-Age ramparts, but then began to hover about two feet off the ground. As it neared, Mallory could see something within the ball of light, and when it was only a few feet from them he realised it was a tiny humanoid figure, all gold as if the light was radiating from its skin. Horns protruded from its forehead, but its eyes were black and gleaming, like little windows on to space.
It floated around the edge of the circle, then drifted away towards the royal palace ruins.
'I think we have to follow it,' Sophie said.
'Can we break the circle?' Mallory looked towards the sun, now bisected by the ramparts.
'I don't think we have a choice.'
Cautiously, they stepped outside. Instantly, the wind dropped and all was still again. The tiny figure waited for them, then led them past the palace and over the edge of the defences. They had no choice but to go down the precipitously steep bank where it was impossible to gain a foothold. They skidded, then rolled and fell in the deep snow, winding themselves as they hit the bottom of the ditch.
Covered in snow from head to toe, they clambered out into the wide expanse of the outer bailey, but their guide didn't slow. They hurried behind it to the site of the old cathedral, the ground plan visible in the stumps of walls protruding through the white. Down rotting wooden steps they stumbled, into a regular area that had once been the cloister, and then into a room that lay lower than the surroundings. Once there, the golden figure soared high until it disappeared.
Mallory felt uneasy; there was only one exit from the room. A fizzing in the snow near his feet attracted his attention.
'There's something in the air,' Sophie said, shaking the snow from her hair. 'Power… danger… The whole place is charged.'
Squinting, Mallory could make out coruscating blue energy just beneath the snow cover. He squatted down and brushed aside the flakes to reveal a faint sapphire arc crackling across six inches. The urge to touch it overwhelmed him. Sophie rested a hand on his shoulder for support.