Always Forever (63 page)

"Events move faster as they rush towards the point of greatest change. You
are caught up in the flow, Sister of Dragons, as you were from the moment existence came calling for you. This is your time, your destiny."

"What use am I going to be?" The pressure in her shoulder made her
stomach turn. "My arm-"

"Remove the rag."

Laura hesitated, afraid to see the tangled parts that remained after her arm
had been torn off. He urged her once more, gently. She dropped the stained shirt
and looked away. The pressure in her shoulder grew unbearable and she was
forced to ram her fist into her mouth to stop herself screaming. But within a
moment the pressure had broken, to be replaced by another disturbing sensation: it felt like everything inside her was rushing out of her shoulder. It was
impossible not to look.

What she saw made her mind warp. The dangling tendons and skin were
moving of their own accord. Before her eyes, cells multiplied and grew into long
tendrils that twisted and knotted, then fused, became bone and muscle and
gristle. The stump of an upper arm protruded from her shoulder. The process
grew faster, reminding her of time-lapse film of sprouting plants. The tendrils
lashed so quickly her face was buffeted by the air currents they made. An elbow
formed perfectly. A forearm and wrist. The palm came together in a blur, and
finally the fingers, the nails added with a flourish.

She couldn't take her eyes off it. Slowly, she turned it over, examining it from every angle. It was her arm; she knew the patterns of light and shade from the
muscle structure beneath the skin. Her stomach flipped and she thought she was
going to be sick, but as she brought her hand to her mouth she noticed the circle
of interlocking leaves Cernunnos had branded into her flesh on the eerie island in
Loch Maree. "The green blood, green skin ... What did you do to me?" Thoughts
trampled through her head. Her hands went to her stomach. "I didn't imagine it.
I was ripped open when that thing came out of me. And I. Mended myself?"

Cernunnos made a strange growling noise deep in his throat that was almost
sympathetic. "You are a Daughter of the Green. Within you is the potency of
nature in all its fury and wonder."

"What did you do to me?"

"Your old form had reached the end of its days-"

"You killed me?" Her mind was reeling.

"There is no life or death. All things have no beginning and no end. For the
immutable laws, you only have to look around you. Seasons turn. Things fall
into the earth, then rise again. New forms are made, but the essence remains the
same. The rules have always been laid bare for your kind to see, but in recent
times you have been blinded by arrogance. You saw yourselves as special. You
thought that, for you, with death there came an ending when everything around
you told you otherwise. It trapped you in your forms, made you truly into frail,
fragile creatures. It prevented you reaching out to existence or utilising the
greatness that lies within you."

She examined her arm once more, not sure if she should feel horror or
wonder. "I can grow bits of myself? Like a plant?"

"This gift is not given lightly, Sister of Dragons. You are of my essence now.
You are part of the greatness of nature, you are a vibrant branch of my bountiful
family."

Laura nodded; slowly it was starting to feel right. If Cernunnos hadn't
changed her she would have died when Balor had been reborn into the world.
But more than that, she felt something indefinable yet all-consuming, as if she
had finally come to a place she was always meant to be.

"All things are open to you now, Sister of Dragons, Daughter of the Green,"
Cernunnos continued. "The sunlit uplands stretch before you. All is possible."

"Why me? There were others, Shavi-"

"Your heart was given to the green long ago."

He was right: in childhood, she had always been drawn to nature; as an
adult, she had devoted herself to environmental activism. It had always been the
most important thing in the world to her. "Ruth got the same mark from you,
but she didn't get the same treatment."

"As my daughters, you each have roles to fulfil. She echoes a different aspect
of my essence. The force that cannot be stopped."

"She's the sledgehammer, I'm the stiletto." She felt uncomfortable using
weapons as a metaphor for abilities that were so life affirming.

"Yet there is danger for her. The gift I have given her is great. It fills her
being, shifts the balance of her day and nightside. She must learn to encompass
it or it will consume her." Cernunnos began to roam around her, tearing at the
turf with his hooves.

"Will she be okay?"

He remained silent for a little too long. "The greatest danger lies at the
place where all things converge. If her will fails her, the power will drive her
down darker lanes."

Laura subconsciously flexed her new fingers. "The power's eating her up.
She's losing control." She felt a pang of worry for the woman she had disliked
for so long. "Can't you do something?"

"It is her gift. To intervene would make it worthless."

Laura ground her teeth; the shock of losing then regaining her arm had
ebbed and she was overcome once more with urgency. "I need to get back to the
others. Time's running out." She stood up shakily. "So Ruth gets all the bigshot
powers. I'm just indestructible."

"You can do more. Much more. Let me show you." He smiled and held out
his hand.

Church and Ruth had been intrigued by Tom's account of how he had used the
lines of Blue Fire to travel vast distances, and were eager to utilise it to get closer
to the rendezvous point. He refused flatly, emphasising the many dangers.

"It's not like catching a train, you know. Whatever you might think, the
chance of getting lost in it is high. You need skills taught over the course of a
lifetime to follow the channels and flow. I could look after one of you, but two
... that's too many. Imagine diving into a white water river gushing through a
ravine over rapids-that is what it is like. If it is a life or death matter, I will
attempt it. But after coming so far, we can't afford to throw it all away by losing
one of you. Time is short, but in my opinion the best option is to take the horses
and ride them hard."

Reluctantly, they agreed, and within minutes of sunrise they were riding
fast across the rugged Cornish landscape. They picked up the A30, eventually
following the route on which Ruth, Laura and Shavi had been pursued by the
Wild Hunt, crossing the M5 to bypass Bristol, where they joined the M4. It was
still eerie to see the motorway devoid of cars. Already thick weeds and long grass had sprouted in the central reservation, and birds strutted defiantly across the
lanes. At one point they disturbed rabbits gambolling lazily in the fast lane,
enjoying their freedom from the tyranny of humanity.

They ransacked the motorway services for any food that had not spoiled,
giving the horses water and rest, taking the opportunity to doze in the dry air
of the cafeterias. But the closer they got to London, the more the atmosphere
became depressive, the more they felt an unpleasant anxiety building in the pit
of their stomachs. The skies were darker, filled with charred matter blowing in
the wind. The stink of burning was everywhere. Their instincts told them to
turn back to seek out the green fields and sunlit lands of the West Country, but
they forced themselves to keep on.

With only two days to Samhain, they finally parted company just past
Reading, with Tom heading on to find Veitch and Shavi, while Ruth and
Church continued to the camp of the Tuatha De Danann. Although none of
them gave voice to it, they all dreaded what the coming days would bring.

wilight was already heavy on the land when Church and Ruth wearily
crested a ridge above the rendezvous point. What they saw made them rein
in their horses in astonishment. After the long grey shadows, they were confronted by a sea of light filled with the noise of activity and a complex range of
smells. Spread out before them was what appeared to be a mediaeval tent city,
but it covered vast acres. Campfires showered columns of sparks amongst the
billowing tents, some small, others of marquee size, while torches flickered with
yellow-white light, marking paths and meeting areas. The air was fragrant with
incense, spices and perfume, but there was also the powerful musk of horses and
the aromas of cooking food. The hauntingly seductive music of the Tuatha De
Danann rose from numerous quarters, but instead of conflicting, it came
together in a symphony that made their spirits soar. For a while they were
entranced by the gods walking, talking, preparing weapons, making merry.

"I don't remember this many on the ship," Ruth said.

"They must have been joined by some of the other Courts." Church tried
not to be engulfed by the wonder of what he saw, but it was impossible. Whatever he might think of the gods, they were a source of remarkable magic.

They urged their exhausted mounts slowly down the slope, but they hadn't
gone far when they heard a sound like wind in a mountain pass. A second later
there was movement all around. Figures barely more than ghosts separated from
the dark landscape to form a barrier between them and the camp. They were
lower-born Golden Ones, in strange shimmering armour offset by red and white
silk, with helmets that looked like enormous seashells.

"Fragile Creatures," one of them said to the others.

"We are a Brother and Sister of Dragons," Church pronounced. "We are here
at the behest of the First Family."

There was sudden activity beyond the ranks. The guards fell roughly aside
as another god strode through. From the more intricate designs of his armour,
he looked to be of higher rank, but he had a cold, cruel face that Church
instantly disliked. When he laid eyes on Church and Ruth, he gave a dark, cun- ping smile and did a bow that could easily have been mockery. "Greetings,
Brother and Sister of Dragons. Your reputation precedes you. I am Melliflor, of
the Court of the Yearning Heart. I welcome you to this place, though it lacks
the charms of our home." He stepped aside and motioned to a path that had
opened up between the guards. "Come, let me take you to my Queen. She will
be eager to learn the latest from the world of Fragile Creatures. You will be able
to rest and eat and drink your fill-"

"Hold, Melliflor." The voice was stern and a little threatening.

The guards moved to one side as another group marched up, their silver
armour bearing designs based on an avian motif. Their leader's face gave nothing
away, but it had none of the unpleasant qualities of his opposite number.

"Greetings, Gaelen. I was about to lead these two weary travellers to partake of the hospitality for which the Golden Ones are famed."

Gaelen barely looked at Melliflor. "I think the Brother and Sister of Dragons
would rather be spared the hospitality of your Queen."

Melliflor bristled. "Step carefully, Gaelen. My Queen would not-"

"I have orders to take these two directly to the Lady Niamh. That is the
desire of the First Family."

Melliflor appeared to consider challenging this, but eventually backed
down. He gave another dislikeable smile to Church and Ruth and bowed once
more. "Another time, then. I hope you do not regret missing the comforts on
offer, nor the information my Queen could have imparted." He turned on his
heel and marched away, with his guards trooping behind.

Gaelen nodded curtly before leading Church and Ruth slowly to the camp.
They dismounted on the outskirts where one of the guards led their horses away
for food and watering.

Within the camp their perceptions became increasingly distorted. They felt like
they were drifting through a dream where everything was fluid, strong enough
for them to wonder if they would remember any of it once they left. Their senses
were stifled beneath the constant assault of sounds, smells and sights. As they
passed, eyes turned towards them, some filled with contempt, others accompanied by a smile of greeting. They saw no one they recognised. Many of the gods
were of the lower caste, but on two occasions they caught sight of burning
golden lights unable to stay in one shape.

Gaelen halted at a large purple tent made of a heavy material that resembled velvet. Over it fluttered a flag showing two dragons, red and white, either
in embrace or fighting. The god pulled aside the flap and bid them enter.

The inside was cosy with sumptuous cushions scattered on a richly par terned carpet. Lanterns hung from poles at intervals around the perimeter, but
the flames were turned down so the light was soft and hazy. Baccharus slumped
in a low chair, his legs stretched out before him, drinking from a wooden flagon
studded with four rubies. He lifted it in greeting, but didn't rise.

Niamh stood next to a trestle table in the centre of the tent, poring over a
large map that had previously been rolled around large brass spindles. She hurried over to Church, smiling broadly. She made to embrace him, but when she
saw Ruth, her face lost its sheen and she turned away sadly.