The Power of Five Oblivion

yours.”
    Scott still hoped that he and Jamie would be reunited when this was all over. The Old Ones owed him that. After all, thanks to him, they were safe. The five Gatekeepers would never come together now that he had chosen to be on the other side. Very soon there would be a fight and the last human resistance would be wiped out. What would be left would be a planet of slaves, living and dying simply for the Old Ones’ pleasure. Jamie would be among them but Scott would find him and the two of them would be together, finally enjoying the sort of life that had always been denied them. Jamie would understand what he had done and that he had done it for both of them. And that would make it all worthwhile.
    There was a movement at the entrance and a girl appeared. She could only have been a year or two older than Scott with fair hair, a pale face, downturned eyes. She was wearing a simple dress and carried a tray with fresh bread and butter, fruit, boiled eggs, cheese and coffee. Scott didn’t know her name. She was forbidden to talk to him. She wasn’t even permitted to meet his eyes. She was Scott’s personal servant and he could treat her any way he liked.
    She set the tray down on a table in front of the window, picked up Scott’s clothes from the night before, bowed and left. Later she would return to make the bed, sweep out the fire and clean the room. Scott waited until she had gone, then slid out from beneath the covers and put on a pair of undershorts and a T-shirt. He sat down and began to eat. He often wondered how the kitchen managed to get hold of fresh food in the middle of nowhere, literally at the end of the world. But ultimately, it didn’t really matter. All that was important was that it was here.
    It was snowing heavily outside. Thick flakes seemed to hang in front of the window before being swept aside by the wind. A man hung from a scaffold near the gate, his eyes frozen, his flesh turning blue. It was a soldier, hanged for stealing extra food. Several were killed every day and Scott had watched this latest execution. He looked up at the sky. Just before the man died, he had seen a plane coming in to land and he had wondered if Jamie had been on it. Or Matt.
    And Pedro? He was probably still in Italy. Scott had given him money, but not enough to buy his way out. He thought back to their last meeting at the Piazza Dante, Pedro so thin and scrawny, with his hand wrapped in a filthy bandage. Suddenly Scott wasn’t so hungry and just for a minute, glancing at his food, it seemed to change. It wasn’t bread or cheese on the plate. It was a scrap of rotting meat with white maggots crawling around it. And across the room, the fire had gone out. He shut his eyes as tight as he could. When he opened them again, a few moments later, everything was all right. He took a deep breath. Then he turned away from the window and went to get dressed.
    A little while later, Scott left the room. As far as he knew, he was allowed to go anywhere he wanted. Certainly Jonas Mortlake hadn’t told him otherwise. Scott was wearing jeans and a padded jacket complete with a white fur collar and hood that had been provided for him. He didn’t know which animal it had been made from but it was obvious to him that the fur was real. He had already explored the fortress a little. Parts of it reminded him of a medieval castle. He had seen dining rooms with flagstones, long wooden tables and minstrels’ galleries. Other parts – his own room, for example – were more modern.
    He emerged into the courtyard with the massive gatehouse in front of him and the twisted figure dangling from his scaffold. A boy, twelve or thirteen, staggered past with two pails of water hanging from a wooden rod over his shoulders. The boy was careful to avoid his eyes. A team of men and women, bundled up in rags, were shovelling snow into wheelbarrows. There didn’t seem to be any point as more was falling even as they worked. A few shape-changers were patrolling the battlements, some with legs, some with scales and claws. It was intensely cold outside but they were lightly dressed and didn’t seem to feel it.
    Scott turned right and walked into the other tower, which was both wider and taller than the one where he was staying. Both towers seemed to be made of rock or maybe coral. They had no obvious man-made decoration. There wasn’t even any visible brickwork. He wondered vaguely if this was where Chaos lived. And what of Jonas Mortlake?