The Power of Five Oblivion

began to appear, swarming out of the far tower. They poured out of the doors, over the battlements, down the stairs, across the courtyard … shape-changers, fire-riders, fly-soldiers, slaves. They were coming from every direction, gaining speed, while outside the fortress, the giant monkey bounded across the ice, the condor and the humming bird swooping down behind. Still on his knees, cradling Scott, with the tears freezing on his cheeks, Jamie knew that the end had arrived – but he no longer cared. His brother had died in his arms. He had arrived too late. Everything he had endured had been for nothing.
    Chaos, the King of the Old Ones, finally appeared, bursting into the sky, black rubble cascading around him. To Scarlett and the others, it was as if the mountain had turned into a volcano with molten lava and smoke pouring out. At first, Chaos was nothing more than an enormous fog, dark and shapeless. There was the glimpse of an eye, yellow and lizard-like. Something like a claw seemed to take hold of the edge of the crater, pushing him free, as if he were being born. He might have had horns, the skin of a snake. It was impossible to say. Chaos was too huge, too unfathomable. He could take any shape he wanted and even now he was changing…
    In front of their eyes, all the different pieces were drawn together and formed the perfect figure of a man, human-sized, walking down the side of the mountain towards them. Except he wasn’t a man. He was a black cut-out of a man, a silhouette. Scarlett was reminded of the paper figures she had once made as a child. But it was as if Chaos had been cut out of the very fabric of the world. He was a black hole. He was nothing. The mountain and the sky rippled around him but he was pure energy, pure evil, faceless and lifeless, sucking everything into him.
    “The Five…” he whispered and his voice seemed to belong to the beginning of time, before light had first come to the world. The flames twisted and writhed above him. His army stood back, waiting for his command.
    But he was going to finish this himself. He continued to walk down.
    Scarlett closed her eyes and prepared to die.
    Richard Cole had also expected to die.
    He knew that he had cheated the chairman and the Old Ones, taking their greatest prize from them. Matt was slumped in front of him, still on his feet – the frame that he was tied to kept him upright – but Richard could see that he was at peace. His head had dropped forward, his eyes were closed and he wasn’t breathing. Richard felt as if he was being torn in half. Right then, he was consumed by more grief than he had ever known in his life. But at the same time he was glad that, at least for Matt, it was over.
    He had fully expected the chairman to kill him. The entire arena had gone silent, the spectators – row after row of them – staring at him in shocked silence like children who had just had a toy snatched away. The guards who had brought him here and the two torturers whose work he had seen were holding back, waiting to be told what to do. And the chairman himself was furious and frightened at the same time. This was his fault. He had brought the journalist here and somehow, inexplicably, he had failed to see that he was carrying some sort of antique knife. He had allowed him to kill the boy – the one thing that couldn’t happen. What would the Old Ones do now. What would they do to him?
    All the blood had drained out of his face. There was a pulse beating at the front of his bald head and a hollow had formed in his throat as he struggled for breath. His arm shot out and he pointed a trembling finger in Richard’s direction.
    “Kill him!” he screamed, in a high-pitched voice. “Kill him now!”
    Nobody moved. Who was the order aimed at? Richard thought of fighting back, of trying to escape, but he was too exhausted. He didn’t care any more. After what he had been forced to do, it didn’t matter to him if he lived or died. Matt still hung in front him, his head shaved, his almost naked body covered with injuries that would cause him no more pain. Richard just wanted to stay here with him. He wasn’t going to run any more.
    He was aware of something moving under his feet and fought for balance. He thought he was imagining it, until one of the guards tumbled against the other. It wasn’t the platform. The entire cavern had begun to tremble. The audience was feeling it too. Some of them stood up. Panic began to spread even as the