Always Forever (62 page)

The night was clear and bright and filled with a deep, abiding magic. The full
moon brought silver tips to the waves, their gentle lapping a soothing symphony accompanied by the occasional breeze rustling the goldening leaves; the
perfect soundtrack to Church's thoughts. Stars glistened everywhere they
looked; they felt peaceful for the first time in months.

"It could be like this all over," Church said, his arm around Ruth, the two
of them watching the light on the waves.

"And I thought I was the hippie," Tom said. "Don't start going soft. This
is a little oasis. The real world is out there and it's thoroughly unpleasant."

"Can't we just enjoy the moment?" Ruth protested.

"You go right ahead." Tom prodded the fire with an annoyance that
matched the sneer in his voice. "We'll just forget about all those bodies getting
torn apart and eaten, all those lives being ruined, land being blasted, cities razed
to the ground, rivers polluted. Oh, and while we're at it, let's forget the end of
the world in just a few short days." He punctuated it with a tight smile.

"I didn't mean that." Ruth's eyes blazed. "But we can't do anything right
here, right now, so do we have to continue flagellating ourselves? We've worked
hard. We've achieved something ... Church has achieved something. We
should celebrate our victories."

"I simply wanted you to remember-"

"Of course I remember! I know what we're up against! And I know what
our chances are, even with what Church has done today." Tom flinched. "Yes, I
can see it in your face. Even if we win we aren't all going to make it through
alive, right? So I just want to enjoy this quiet time with Church and my friend
because it might be my last."

Tom shrugged. "Point taken." He gave a slight grin that punctured the
mood.

For the next half hour, they did take it easy, enjoying their company with
jokes and gossip while handing round the whisky. Even so, they found it impossible to bury the momentous events of the day and soon they were chatting animatedly once more about what had happened. Church couldn't bring himself to
discuss what he had felt once he had given himself up to the Blue Fire-it had
been too personal, a spiritually transcendent moment that would be devalued by
being discussed. That infuriated Ruth, who was eager to understand.

"But I don't see what he did to bring the land alive," she said. "It wasn't as
if he unblocked a channel or something."

"He gave it his life, his spirit, in honesty and openness, and the Blue Fire
gave it back to him, but not before that vital surge had brought the whole of
the system alive." Tom was lying on his back, watching the stars through his cloud of smoke. "It is fuelled by belief, and Church believed in a way that
nobody had for centuries. Not just believed in the Fiery Network, but in himself, in humanity and the universe and hope, and childish things too, like
dreams and wishing."

"So he's just one big battery."

"The only battery who could have done it."

"I don't get it," Ruth continued. "You talked about waking the land as if it
were a big thing, but apart from the Fabulous Beasts we saw earlier, everything
looks the same."

"Maybe you're not looking in the right place, or the right way. Maybe
you're not feeling."

Ruth hurled some mild abuse at his patronising attitude. He sighed wearily
and dragged himself to his feet. "Do you remember that night at Stonehenge
when I gave you the first sign of the Blue Fire?" he said.

"No, I don't," Ruth said, "because I was fast asleep. You saved that demonstration for your favourite son here."

"Yes, I remember," Church said. "It was amazing. Like something I'd been
looking for all my life."

"The power of Stonehenge made that easier," Tom said, "because it's a node
in the network. Look around-do you see any standing stones in the vicinity?"
They agreed that there weren't any.

They waited for him to continue, but all he did was smoke, and check his
watch and the moon and stars, until they were convinced he'd slipped into a
drugged stupor. Ruth shifted impatiently, made to speak, but Church placed a
restraining hand on her forearm. She looked at him curiously; he put his finger
to his lips.

After fifteen minutes, Tom said, "Now." He dropped to his haunches and
placed one hand flat on the cool grass. "The time has to be right. The mood has
to be right. Everything has to be right, and it's not been righter for centuries.
You even need the right eyes for this-not everyone can see it-but you should
be ready now. Watch carefully."

Around his hand, tiny sparks began to fly. They had a life of their own,
dancing and jumping into the grass, surging towards the nearby trees. Other
strands ran to Church and Ruth, infiltrating them with a prickly thrill; they
both felt a sudden surge of euphoria.

"It's in everything," Ruth gasped.

"You think that's good." Tom smiled. "Watch this."

The ground erupted with Blue Fire. It shot out in lines across the land,
towards the sea and under the waves, intersecting at regular points where tiny flares burned. And then it suddenly burst upwards in a tremendous, breathtaking rush, hundreds of feet high, a dazzling cathedral of lights like the one
Church had seen at Stonehenge. A paler blue light shimmered between the connecting strands, turning opaque, then clear, like protective walls. Only this
cathedral was not the only one. An even bigger structure covered St. Michael's
Mount; and there were more beyond, stretching right across the land. It was
dazzling in its potency. Caught up in the sheer wonder of it, there was no doubt
the whole of the land had become infused with the vital force.

"How did you do that?" Ruth gasped.

"Sometimes when things fall into alignment it becomes more active. I
simply helped you to see it."

"This is why the ancients put up the stone circles," Ruth said in awe.

"And the standing stones and cairns and other places of sacred power." Tom
was now sitting cross-legged on the grass, watching the display with a beatific
smile. "To channel it, to help it to live, and to reap the benefits it provides."

"It heals," Ruth said.

"It heals the body, certainly. But more importantly, it heals the spirit."

"I want to feel that." Ruth looked from Tom to Church. "You've both had
experience of it. It's changed you both, I can see. I need to feel it."

"There'll be time," Tom said.

"Will there?" Ruth replied. The note in her voice infected them all, and
gradually the astonishing display faded.

Church put his arm tightly around her shoulders. "But it's worth fighting
for, isn't it?"

Veitch and Shavi escaped from the farmhouse, but only with a helping of guile
and a good serving of luck. They kept to the hedgerows, hiding in ditches at the
slightest sound, barely moving, barely breathing.

The Fomorii were out in force, scurrying along the roads all around the
farm. Veitch and Shavi were in no doubt the Night Walkers still considered
them a threat. At times when the beasts drew a little too close, Shavi used his
shamanic abilities to direct various field animals to cause a distraction so they
could escape. Since his return from the Grim Lands, he was even more adept at
the things at which he had previously excelled.

Eventually they were faced with open countryside; as dawn began to break
they were moving as fast as they could towards the west.

Over the following days, they kept as far away from any roads or centres of
population as possible. They slept in trees or ditches, wrapped in dustbin bags
and other items of rubbish, like two tramps. Sometimes they found a hollow where they could light a fire without being seen. Veitch cooked rabbits or birds,
while Shavi satisfied himself with any autumnal berries and fruits or roots that
he could scavenge.

On a day that began cold and overcast with light drizzle sweeping across the
countryside in gusts, they made their way over fields towards the rendezvous
point. Ahead lay a rise where they expected a good vista over the rolling valleys
that led down to the Thames; the outer reaches of the London sprawl was not far
away.

When they came close to the ridge, they dropped to their bellies and wriggled up the remaining few yards, their clothes already sodden and thick with
mud. Peeking over the summit so they would not be silhouetted against the
skyline, they witnessed a sight that made their blood run cold.

London lay beneath a thick bank of seething clouds that formed no part of
the surrounding weather system. Occasional bursts of lightning punctured the
oppressive gloom so they could see that, somewhere in the centre of the capital,
a large black tower had been raised up. It was still incomplete, and the edges
were indistinct, as if roughly constructed. It reminded Shavi of pictures he had
seen of enormous termites' nests in the African veldt. Ruth had spoken of a similar tower she had seen in the Lake District, constructed from the detritus of
humanity: abandoned cars, plastics, bricks and girders, old washing machines,
anything that could be reclaimed and stacked. And all across the city, fires
blazed, sending up thick gouts of greasy smoke to join the lowering clouds.

There were things buzzing the tower with the insistent, awkward motion of
flies. The distance was too great to tell exactly what they were, but there were
clouds of them, black and threatening. And from the periphery of the city, across
the surrounding countryside, swarmed what at first glance appeared to be ants.
The Fomorii scurried back and forth, thousands upon thousands of them,
sweeping out in wider and wider arcs as they spread across the country. Their
movement looked chaotic and meaningless, but that only masked the complexity
of regimented actions designed to scour and destroy. It was a scene from Hell.

Veitch watched the panorama for long minutes, his face heavy with hatred
and repressed anger. "How the fuck are we going to fight something like that?"
he said in a cold, dead voice.

In the shadow of the M25, Laura and the Bone Inspector sheltered amongst a
tangled maze of wrecked and abandoned cars. Through gaps in the vehicles they
could make out waves of Fomorii fanning out across the Essex fields.

"We don't stand a chance," Laura whispered. "They're everywhere." She still
felt sick from the shock of losing her arm. Pressure was building deep in her shoulder, as if her blood was about to gush out of the gaping socket, despite the
stained shirt she had pressed against the wound; she still couldn't understand
why she hadn't bled out.

"They're searching for us." The dismal note in the Bone Inspector's voice
told her he agreed with her assessment. Their luck had run out.

"What do we do? Stay here?"

"Nowhere to run. They're all around now." He tapped a syncopated rhythm
with his staff.

Laura rubbed at her shoulder joint; the pressure was growing unbearable.

"We can't stay-

Her words were drowned out by the sudden rending of metal. Cars flew on
either side, as if they were made of paper. Laura flung herself backwards in
shock. The Bone Inspector raised his staff in defence, his face drained of blood.
Eight or nine Fomorii ploughed through the vehicles with ease, tossing aside
what they could move, rending apart what they could not.

Laura thought: Shit. What a way to go.

The noise of crashing metal was so loud neither of them heard the hunting
horn, and so they were surprised when the first of the Fomorii dissolved in a
thin, black rain. To Laura, the world appeared fractured: frozen frames, sudden
temporal jumps. The Fomorii were turning as one. Red and white dogs leaped
through the air, their teeth tiny yet so very sharp. Spears tipped with cruel
sickles sliced into the Night Walkers, the beasts falling apart at the slightest
touch. Drifting through the grey rain were men on horseback, swathed in furs
and armour, their eyes hidden by shadows.

In less than two minutes the Fomorii were gone, their remains steaming
amongst the shattered cars. The Wild Hunt reined in their horses and cantered
around the area as the one of their number with the most fearsome face dismounted. As he walked towards Laura he began to change; antlers sprouted
from his forehead, fur and leaves intermingled across his body. Cernunnos passed
the Bone Inspector as if he were not there and dropped to his haunches before
Laura, his wide-set, golden eyes calm and soothing.

"Daughter of the Green, I greet you."

"I thought you only came out at night in that last form," Laura gasped, not
really knowing what to say.

"The world has changed. Many rules are falling like autumn leaves." Then
he did turn to the Bone Inspector. "Guardian, you have moved beyond the
bounds of your calling on this occasion. You sought this one out at great personal danger, and you have protected her to the best of your abilities. I look
kindly on you. A reward will come your way."

The Bone Inspector bowed his head slightly. "I seek no reward."

"Nonetheless, it shall be yours." Returning his attention to Laura, he trailed
his long, gnarled fingers gently through her hair. "Frail creature. Fragile creature, yet filled with wonder."

Laura lost herself in the swirling gold in his eyes. He held her gaze for a
moment, then rose. "Come, this place is corrupted. We must find safe haven."

All Laura could remember of the journey from her seat on Cernunnos's horsealthough he wore the hideous form of the Erl-King as he rode-was a blur of
green fields and grey road. They came to a halt in no time at all on the fringes
of Brentwood, where the Essex countryside still rolled out peacefully.

In a thickly wooded swathe of the South Weald country park, the Hunt dismounted and let their horses wander amongst the trees. The Erl-King became
Cernunnos once more and led Laura off to a quiet area where he could talk to her
privately.

"What's going on?" she said weakly as she lay against the foot of an enormous oak.