Always Forever (53 page)

But their abiding friendship, forged through hard times, kept them going
and ensured the evenings around the campfire were filled with light talk and
humour, lifting spirits dampened by the day's sights of deserted villages, frightened people hiding in their homes, or children and old people begging for food.

It wasn't as if they had any plan except to find Church and Ruth and Laura.
That lack of direction left Veitch feeling strained and irritable. He was not a
person who coped well with inactivity, particularly with time running out,
when there was so much that needed to be done.

Shavi, however, guessed Tom knew more than he was saying.

"Do you think we'll find them?" Shavi said, breaking the rule of keeping the
conversation light. Next to him, Veitch snored loudly in a drunken sleep.

"I think there is always hope." Tom enjoyed a joint as he stared into the fire.

"But you are True Thomas. You can see the future. You must know
something."

"I try not to look. What will be, will be."

Perhaps it was the drugs or the drink affecting him, but for the first time
Tom's cool exterior was not impervious. Shavi caught a glimpse in the Rhymer's
face of all the things Tom was not saying, and he was uncomfortable with what
he saw.

"What if you really did see everything?" Shavi suggested. "What if you
knew exactly what was going to happen, bar a few minor hiccups here and there.
What if you knew who lived and who died?"

Tom raised his head sharply to fix a stare that was so cold Shavi felt a chill
in his bones. "Then," Tom said, "my life would be damned."

At the heart of the Court of High Regard stood an enormous tree with a trunk
as far around as an office block and a top lost high overhead. All around it spread
an area of distortion that left Church continually disoriented; buildings were never quite the same each time he looked at them. Some were substantially
altered, one moment a sweeping dome like St. Paul's, the next a thrusting tower
of Middle Eastern design. At times Church would glimpse rapid movement
from the corner of his eye, the hint of crystal birds flapping across the sky, but
when he looked there was nothing. People came and went as they crossed a
piazza, or appeared in a haze on a corner, while the dead appeared to be everywhere, dazed, beatific, unthreatening.

"This is where our heart beats, the closest to the fabled home of our deepest
memory." Niamh's voice trembled with awe. Church was struck by how young
and girlish she appeared, not alien at all. Now Baccharus had explained the distinction amongst the Tuatha De Danann, Church was amazed he hadn't seen it
before. It was as simple as those who felt and those who didn't.

"Have you always been like this?"

She looked at him curiously with her large, innocent eyes. "No," she said
after a moment's thought, "once I was a true daughter of the Golden Ones, one
of the confirmed rulers of all existence, above all else."

"Then why did you change? When you hold such a position, it must take
something phenomenal to turn you around."

"I was taught, over what your people would consider a long period of time."

"Who taught you?"

She smiled a little sadly, but did not answer.

They continued their tour in silence for a while, until Church broke the
restrained mood by asking about the enormous tree.

"It is the World-Tree," Niamh said, looking up into the distant branches.
"It is at the heart of all worlds. Its roots go down, its branches reach up."

"Linking Heaven and Earth. This is an amazing place." And it was. Wonder
brought every nerve alive, just breathing air, looking round at the fluid scenery.
It was filled with magic, the thing his life had always lacked.

"Once the Fixed Lands had the same power. Everything was alive, constantly changing. But your brethren stopped believing, or believed in the wrong
things. You wished your world to be something lesser."

Church examined a fountain where the water turned into tiny diamonds. "I
keep hearing that phrase, about wishing the world a certain way."

"Nothing is truly fixed. The Fixed Lands are only such because they are
sleeping. All is illusion, and all illusion is fluid. Belief is a powerful tool. Creatures great and small-life-is at the centre of everything, and they can shape
things as they see fit. Nothing has to be accepted."

"If you just wish hard enough," he mused. "I was never happy with how
things were in my world. There was always something lacking. And it was get ting worse. The people I didn't like, the ones interested in money over everything, and personal power, they seemed to be driving things their way. It wasn't
a world for people like me."

"You gave up your responsibility, Jack."

"What do you mean?"

"The people you despised were wishing harder, setting the world the way
they wanted. They are the Night Walkers, whichever form they take. People
like you, Jack, people who truly believe, have a responsibility to take a stand and
wish the world the way it should be. To wake the land, to dream it real. Belief
is stronger than anything the Night Walkers have."

The crystal birds were still flying around the edges of his vision and there was
faint music on the wind, still powerful enough to make his emotions soar. What
Niamh was saying echoed deeply inside him. He realised she was staring at him
intently, and when he turned to her he was shocked to see tears in her eyes.

"I have made my peace with the way things are, Jack."

He took her hand, concerned. "Don't cry. What's wrong?"

"The Golden Ones have always used their power without responsibility. They
have achieved their ends by force. I would never do that, for I have learned it
would be valueless, and the thing I strive for has too much value to be wasted. I
see now we will never achieve the love that has filled my thoughts since the
darkest days of the Fragile Creatures." She gazed into the middle distance, her eyes
full. "I had hoped, once it came to this time, your heart would have opened to me,
as mine did to yours so long ago. But I see clearly now your love for the Sister of
Dragons is true; that indeed it is worthy of a love that transcends all time."

Church felt truly sorry for what he saw in her face. "We can still be friends,
Niamh."

She smiled wanly. "And that enriches my existence, but if you only knew
what lay before this point ..." Her words drifted away.

"What do you mean?"

Her smile became a little brighter, to hide her thoughts. "I will always love
you, Jack, and in time you will understand where that love comes from." She
cupped his hand in hers. "I have always had your best interests at heart, but from
this moment on I dedicate myself to helping you achieve your aims, whatever it
may cost me."

He gave her hand a warm squeeze, overwhelmed by the level of emotion
that was being expressed. "You're a good woman, Niamh."

"Now, come, I have many sights to show you. Wonders beyond your imagining." She brushed her tears away, her smile gleaming. "These days will stay
with you always."

The tour was indeed as amazing as Niamh had predicted. Some of the sights
were so startling his mind could barely cope within them, and within the hour
the reality of them began to fade until they took on the warmly comforting but
intangible quality of dreams that would haunt him forever.

But even though time meant nothing in that place, he was acutely aware of
events running away from him. The real world seemed so far gone, but what he
might find when he returned filled him with dread. Each moment wasted could
mean another death, another life filled with suffering. And it felt like he had
been gone so long.

But when he returned to his chamber, Baccharus informed him that
approval to enter the Pool of Wishes had been granted by some higher authority.
It was finally time to act.

As twilight fell across the Court, thousands of torches sprang into life like summer
fireflies. Baccharus, Niamh and Ruth gathered in the main piazza with four horses.
The beasts were powerful, snorting and stamping loudly on the shimmering
marble; at first glance they appeared normal to Ruth, then she noticed the hint of
Otherworld in their eyes where a disturbing intelligence burned.

Church had spent the previous hour in his room preparing himself; he had
enjoyed the tranquillity after spending so long with Ruth discussing the
shocking repercussions of what Baccharus had told him in the inn. Baccharus
had also warned him that the Pool of Wishes was not something to be taken
lightly, as if anything in that realm was. He would be forced to journey deep
inside himself to locate the taint of the Fomorii, Baccharus said, and if he was
not at ease with himself, the experience would drive him mad.

And so he spent the time thinking of his life, of Dale and his friends in
London-where were they now?-of Marianne and his love for her, of the terrible
grief he had felt at her death, of his parents, and his studies, his dreams and fears,
of Laura and Niamh and Ruth, and at the end of it, it still didn't make any sense.

Finally he was ready. The other three were already mounted when he took
the long walk across the piazza, his footsteps echoing solemnly. Their greeting
was just as serious, a simple nod, a faint smile, and then they were away through
the labyrinthine streets of the Court towards the green countryside beyond.

Baccharus led the way, with Church behind, then Ruth, and Niamh taking
up the rear. As they passed, Church glimpsed strange faces watching him from
the darkened windows, some of them golden and alien, some of them terrible and dark. The buildings grew more solid as they approached the outskirts, jumbling tight up against themselves like the oppressive weight of ancient habitation that lay crushed within Jerusalem's walls.

Once the Court was behind them, green fields lined by thick, old hedges
rolled out. They passed intermittent copses and trickling brooks that made their
way through culverts under the rough road. But then the country became
wilder, the trees taller and darker, pressing hard against the roadside, forming a
roof above their heads. Baccharus held up a lantern as they rode and they were
all grateful for the flickering golden light that flooded ahead.

Church occasionally heard movement, although in the thick shadow it was
impossible to discern what was amongst the trees; some seemed too large for any
animal he knew, others were small and fast, some came far too close to the circle
of light, which increasingly felt insignificant. Eventually the road all but disappeared and the trees came up so hard they could have reached out and touched
them on either side if they had so wished. Church spent so much time attempting
to probe the woods on either side, he nearly ran his mount into Baccharus on
more than one occasion. The undergrowth was thick with bramble and bracken,
which would have made the going hard if they had strayed from the path.

To Church's relief, as the going became steeper the wood eventually gave
way. When they finally emerged from the trees, he realised they were on the
foothills leading up to snow-capped mountains, although he couldn't recall
seeing them from the ship as they approached the island.

"Are we going right to the top?" Church asked.

Baccharus put a silencing finger to his lips. "There are things around here
that appreciate silence," he whispered.

The road-now barely more than a track-became rocky and the horses had
to step slowly. Boulders piled up on either side, cracked and patchworked with
moss. The air was much cooler. Church pulled his jacket around him, oddly
wondering what the weather was like back home.

After a little while longer, Baccharus reined in his horse and nodded towards a
group of pine trees separated from a thickly forested slope by a rocky outcropping
on three sides. A distinct path wound its way into the centre of the copse.

"In there?" Church asked quietly.

Baccharus nodded once more.

Church jumped down and advanced several paces before he realised the others
were not behind him. "From here your journey must be alone," Niamh whispered
in reply to his quizzical expression. That brought a sharp chill to his spine.