Always Forever (46 page)

No one else would have been able to hold back that thing, Shavi knew.
Whatever reason she was there, it had given him the only chance he might have
had of saving his friend. He could no longer feel his swollen hands as he tore
through the rubble, but eventually the sound of his scraping changed and he
realised he had reached wood. Frantically he ripped out the remaining stones
while Epona and the unseen presence conducted a ferocious dance in the background. Blue light and black shadows flashed wildly around the mausoleum.

Thrusting his tattered nails under the lid, he wrenched it free. Veitch shot
upwards, gulping air, clawing at Shavi's shirt with his one good hand. Shavi was
sickened to see the charred black stump that flailed behind.

Even when his lungs were full, Veitch continued to choke. Shavi grabbed
his shoulders and held him tightly, stroking his hair until the panic subsided.
"You have survived," he whispered. "You are the stronger for it."

The battle in the background came to a sudden halt. The dark throbbed
around whatever it contained. After a moment the bass rumble began, at first so
loud it hurt Shavi's ears, but then it changed to words in the chilling, boneyard
voice they remembered. "You have broken the pact. Transgressed the rules of
this place. In times to come you will discover you cannot evade your punishment, and it will be inflicted not only upon you, but upon your world."

"Our world is already suffering," Shavi muttered.

"There are worse things than the Night Walkers. Worse than the Heart of
Darkness. Beyond the edge of existence, the void is stirring. Soon you will fall
beneath its unflinching eye. And then it will move towards you."

Shavi levered himself to his feet, still holding Veitch to his chest. "We will
face it as we have faced everything else. With dignity and hope and faith."

The shadows began to drag towards him, but the pulsing light around
Epona flared and it withdrew. Shavi stared at it defiantly, then turned and helped
Veitch out into the thin, grey light.

Epona led the way across the blasted, grey land to the slope on which Veitch had
first appeared. She kept a way ahead of them, sometimes disappearing in the
mist, but they were always aware of her presence. Now that the conflict was over,
there was something eminently soothing about her that raised even Witch's
spirits. They found bread and fruit in her path, which they devoured hungrily;
it quickly made them replete and relaxed and imposed a warm sensation of
abiding safety that for some reason reminded Shavi of his mother.

The goddess slipped into a state of flux now that the warrior side had been
put away. Sometimes when Shavi glimpsed her, she was a young girl on a pony,
then a plump mother on a mare, and finally an old, old woman with streaming
white hair, on a similarly ancient white charger. Shavi recognised the sign
instantly: the triple goddess, mother-maiden-crone, one of the most powerful of
feminine symbols. Just like the goddess who had manifested to Ruth.

The more he considered this, the more it gave him pause. He couldn't
understand why some of the Tuatha De Danann were so close to humanity, both
sources of worship and symbols of all that was good, while others had provided
the template for the mischievous and malicious sprites and fairies who held
humanity in contempt if not hatred. It didn't make sense.

When they reached the summit, Epona cantered round it clockwise three times
and the doorway appeared, shimmering in the mist. The goddess turned and
briefly acknowledged the two of them, with something akin to the respect of a
wise matron. Then, proud and aloof once more, she drove her horse through the
doorway and was gone.

Tom was waiting for them when they crossed over. As Veitch emerged, the bier
bearing Shavi's body fell into stark relief. Tom's face crumpled in a broad beam
as he clapped eyes on Shavi sitting up in a daze. It was the greatest joy they had
ever seen him exhibit, but then he noticed Veitch's stump and his jubilation was
replaced by an equally intense horror.

"Epona?" Shavi asked.

Tom couldn't take his eyes off Witch's mutilation. "I called her to help
you."

"How long was I over there?" Veitch's weak, gravelly voice was on the edge
of delirium.

"Two hours."

Veitch bowed his head. "It seemed longer."

Shavi explained to Tom what had happened in the Grim Lands as they both
helped Veitch back to the house to recover. He was particularly troubled by the
loss of Witch's hand.

Eventually he brightened enough to say, "We must not lose sight of the
great thing we have achieved this day. You have been brought back from the
edge of death, a victory over some of the most powerful rules of existence. That
is symbolic of the great power, and hope, invested in the Brothers and Sisters of
Dragons."

"Hooray," Veitch croaked.

"Now we must find the others and prepare for the battle that all your lives
have been leading towards." He nodded thoughtfully. "Five once more.
Amazing. Perhaps we can carry ourselves with a little more hope than the situation would suggest."

hutch and Baccharus hurried along dark, twisting corridors with the expectation of an attack at any moment. They had left the vicinity of the
Walpurgis's secret hideaway rapidly, and Callow and the Malignos had so far
failed to catch up with them. At some point they had expected to come across
the Fomorii occupying force, but the lower decks were strangely free of them.
Wave Sweeper was still stranded in the same spot, tossing and turning on waves
that were obviously being whipped up by the growing storm. Church wondered
what that meant for Manannan, whose will alone appeared to power the ship.

At his cabin, he darted inside and then into the wreck of Ruth's room, but
there was no sign of her. He threw off the first bolt of despair: Ruth was
resilient; she would survive, he told himself.

As they reached the steps up to the deck, they realised how presumptuous
they had been. Through the open door, framed against the night sky, they could
see the swarming silhouettes of the Fomorii. From their perspective it was
impossible to tell how many of the Night Walkers were loose on deck, but it
was obvious they had control of Wave Sweeper, and Manannan, if still alive, was
probably a prisoner in his cabin. A little guilt crept up on Church as he secretly
relished how the Tuatha De Danann would feel at being the prisoners of beings
they considered less than bacteria.

Cautiously they retreated along the corridor until they had reached a point
where they would not be overheard. Baccharus watched him silently, until
Church realised the god was waiting for him to decide a course of action.
"What?" he said uncomfortably.

"You are a Brother of Dragons," Baccharus replied, as if that answered
everything.

Church shook his head disbelievingly. "Okay, okay." He fidgeted with the
sword at his side, then said, "We've got to move soon. Callow and the Malignos
could be upon us at any moment. Callow's got a bastard's tenacity; he won't give
up until he feels he's paid me back for ruining his life. But we can't go forward.
There's no way we'd ever get past all those Fomorii on deck. They'd cut us down before we made one step out there, like ... like Butch Cassidy and the Sundance
Kid or something." Baccharus continued to wait on his words. Church pedalled
furiously. "So ... so ..."

"We have to find another course of action."

"Exactly." And then he had it. "The first time I was down here I was
searching around and I came across another secret room ... at least I think it
was secret. And there were three Golden Ones in there-Goibhniu-"

"Creidhne and Luchtaine, as they were known in the Fixed Lands. The room
was secret, but it would have opened itself to you because of your heritage."

Church felt too weary to question what this meant. "They were making
weapons," he said instead. "What was that all about?"

"That must wait until later, when there is time."

"If the room is still there, if the weapons are still there, if Goibhniu and the
others are still there-"

Baccharus was already moving along the corridor. Church kept up with him,
still amazed to see branching corridors appear as if from nowhere. Five minutes
later they passed through the door into the foundry, with its familiar smell of sulphur and smoke. The furnaces were cold, the room silent. Hammers lay where
they had fallen. Iron remained partly worked on the anvil. In the gloom beyond,
Church could see the mysterious weapons stacked in heaps, untouched.

Baccharus traced his slim fingers along the edge of the furnace. "I do not
think the Night Walkers found this place. The three smiths would have gone to
the aid of the Master once the interlopers were discovered."

"So it's still just us." Church investigated the first pile of weapons. The uses
of most of them were impossible to divine. "Do you know how to use these?"

"Some. I am not a warrior."

Church picked up a sword with twin parallel blades. It was extraordinarily
light, made of gold and silver, useless in battle. A blue gem was imbedded at
the top of the handle between the blades. Casually, Church brushed the jewel
with his thumb and was instantly shocked by a sucking sensation deep within
him that rapidly grew stronger until it felt like his innards were being pulled
out. The sword jumped like a living thing in his hand, so powerful he could
barely control it. Before he could fling it down, he noticed coruscating blue
energy crackling between the blades near the base, slowly rising up towards the
tip as it grew stronger.

Baccharus stepped in quickly and touched his thumb to the gem. The
energy died away and Church's jolted body returned to normal, although he
could still feel faint vibrations running through his skeleton. "A Wish-Sword,"
Baccharus said. "To be used with caution."

"You're telling me." Church placed it back on the pile, wary of touching
anything else. "Is there anything a little less apocalyptic?"

Baccharus mused for a moment before pulling out a leather thong with
what appeared to be a Japanese throwing star tucked in a fold. The star had six
points in the shape of extended teardrops, cruelly tipped with barbs, and was
made of the same silvery metal that was a constituent for most of the weapons.

Baccharus weighed the weapon in his hand a moment, then slowly began to
whirl the thong around his head. Unnerved, Church took refuge behind one of
the furnaces where he could just see Baccharus building up speed. When the
weapon was a blur, Baccharus snapped his wrist and the star went flying out of
the thong. It ripped in an arc through the air; a primitive if effective weapon,
Church thought. But then Baccharus nodded his head towards a heap of
unformed metal and the star jumped unnaturally in the air to follow the direction of his gaze. It tore through the metal like it was made of sand. Baccharus
moved his head sharply two more times and the star obeyed him exactly, making
two more cuts through the pile, which fell with a resounding clatter. The star
spun back to Baccharus, slowing and hovering slightly so he could pluck it out
of the air with his thumb and forefinger.

"That's amazing." Church snatched the star and examined it closely. There was
nothing to show why it should act in such a manner. "Can anyone use it like that?"

"Anyone with a will." Baccharus smiled.

"It's still not going to help us if we have to face the massed ranks of them,
but it's a start."

"What do you suggest?"

Church shifted uncomfortably. There was one avenue he had been resisting, but
he didn't see how he could ignore it any longer, however detestable it was to him.
"The Fomorii corruption your people all sense in me," he began, "has a side effect.
The taint was left after the Kiss of Frost almost took me over, and soon after my life
was saved by the liquid I drank from the Cauldron of Dagda. Whatever it was gave
me some essence of your people too, so inside me I've got Fomorii and Tuatha De
Danann fighting it out. The result is that sometimes, when I really try, I can sense
what's going on in the Fomorii mind. It's not like I can read thoughts-at least I
don't think it's like that. I don't even know if the Fomorii have thoughts. It's more a
vague impression. But if I really concentrate on it, I'm convinced I can get right
inside their heads to work out what's happening. I have to be in close proximity,
though." He winced. "It feels like my head is filled with spiders. But that's not the
worst of it." He paused as he tried to find the words to express his fears.