The Power of Five Oblivion

day, more ships appeared on the horizon, joining the growing flotilla.
    One last battle. It would come soon enough.
    The snow fell and the wind blew and the sun hung low over the ice shelf, and everyone wondered when Chaos would make his move.

FORTY-SIX
    Scott woke up late with that deep, heavy feeling that told him he had slept for a long time. He twisted sideways and reached out for his watch – the brand-new watch that he had been given in Italy. It was eleven o’clock … although it could have been morning or night. He still hadn’t quite got used to the fact that while he was in Antartica, the sun never set, hovering over the horizon as if it were afraid to go any further. There was no sign of it today, however. The sky outside was a dirty white, the clouds solid and unbroken. He yawned and stretched. He was naked underneath the sheets and furs that covered him and he had never felt quite as warm or as cosy in his life.
    He was in an extraordinary room – a suite of rooms – like something out of a science-fiction film. He was lying in what was effectively a cave, scooped into the side of the mountain, with the walls and ceiling – living rock – curving round him. His bed was also a flat piece of stone – a giant piece of flint – and it should have been hard and uncomfortable. But he was lying on a thick mattress that seemed to mould itself to his shape, and the sheets, changed every day, were soft and luxurious. The bed was huge and piled with pillows of different shapes and sizes. Three people could have slept in it without touching each other.
    There were no doors. An opening led into a private bathroom with a bath the size of a small swimming pool, permanently filled by a thermal spring that gushed out of a crevice in the wall. The water would also explain why the room was so warm. There was a wide open fireplace with a fire lit for him every evening, but even when the flames died down the temperature never dropped. There had to be some sort of natural heating system – perhaps it was volcanic – at work.
    Nor was there any electricity. The entire fortress, the inner passageways and dungeons, were illuminated by a natural blue light that seemed to emanate from the rocks themselves. Scott’s room had plenty of daylight. He had worked out that he was three storeys up in the right-hand tower, one of the two built into the rock face. He had no idea how far the passageways penetrated into the mountain itself. There could be rooms – possibly prison cells – that were little more than tombs. But the point was, he was right at the front. An entire wall of his room had been given over to an oval-shaped window looking out over the courtyard and the barbican. Scott had run his finger down the glass, only to discover that it wasn’t glass at all but a sheet of ice, perfectly clear and cold. He was astonished that it didn’t melt.
    There was always some sort of activity going on outside. Lying in bed, he could watch soldiers marching past, wrapped in their rags and armour. They were always being made to practise … left turn, right turn, day and night. Sometimes there were sword fights, training sessions that often ended with someone losing an arm and being rushed off, screaming, to the infirmary. He had no idea how many thousands of men and women had been recruited into the army of the Old Ones but he was very glad that he wasn’t one of them. He had made all the right decisions. He was going to be OK.
    Matt had known what Scott was planning. He had almost said as much back in the dreamworld. The two of them had spent five minutes together and Scott had been expecting anger, recriminations, an attempt to make him change his mind. But in fact Matt had been completely relaxed. He hadn’t said anything about Pedro or what had happened back at Castel Nuovo. He knew that Scott was flying to Antarctica with Jonas Mortlake. And he accepted it.
    Scott almost wondered if Matt had given up. Perhaps he had seen the odds that were stacked against him and realized that the whole thing was hopeless. Matt, Pedro, Scarlett and Jamie could travel back in time or perhaps they could go to the dreamworld. They’d be all right. That was what Scott believed, anyway. The one thing that worried him was that Matt would tell Jamie what he had done, but as far as he knew that hadn’t happened either.
    “We all have to make our choices, Scott.” Those were the last words Matt had spoken to him. “You’ve made