Always Forever (80 page)

"Too hot," he said in a fractured voice.

Somehow he managed to undo Church's bonds, although Church could
barely look into his face at the pain he was experiencing. "You did a good job,"
Church said.

The Bone Inspector grunted. "I've suffered worse."

Once Church was free, he dived behind the table and snatched up the
Sword. Mollecht was pressed against one wall, unable to leave the room while
the head was there. Even so, the birds were shifting formation ready to unleash
another of the plague attacks.

Church knew how fast they came, and this time he didn't hesitate.
Bounding across the room, he began to thrash wildly with the Sword. Black
feathers showered across the room. Deep puddles tinged with red formed as the
crows' bodies fell heavily all around.

There was a sound that made Church's gut turn, and it was a moment or
two before he realised it was Mollecht screaming. The remaining birds had to
fly harder to maintain the binding pattern, but every time the Sword nicked one
it plunged to the ground.

Church lost himself in a storm of black and red until there was only one bird
flying frantically around the hideous shape that lay within; the thing he still
couldn't bring himself to look at. He paused briefly, took a deep breath, and
then struck the last crow.

The bird hit the stone flags, followed by the thing within. It thrashed and
shrieked wildly for a full minute, and then slowly it began to break up, then
melt away. Eventually there was only a black sludge on the floor, and soon that,
too, was gone.

Church rested on the Sword, shattered from fear and exertion, and in that
moment Callow broke his frozen position and darted for the door. He skirted the
head, glancing back once at the threshold.

Church pointed at him. He didn't need to say a word, and he knew from the
look of terror on Callow's face as he disappeared that his message had been
received.

Church hurried back to the Wayfinder, lying on its side behind the table. "What
do we do now?" the Bone Inspector croaked. He was resting heavily against a
wall.

"I don't know. But this lantern is going to show me." He sat down and
pulled it upright before him. "I hope."

Closing his eyes, he focused on the Blue Fire as Tom had taught him at the
foot of Arthur's Seat in Edinburgh. The Rhymer had been a good teacher; it took
him only a second or two to reach the necessary state of heightened perception.

The lantern flame surged and the energy crackled into his fingers, his hands.
For the first time on his own he saw in the flames the tiny faces and minute
bodies he had witnessed when Tom had introduced him to the earth power at
Stonehenge. He knew what they were now. "All stars," he whispered.

Things fell into alignment.

It seemed to him that the Wayfinder had moved deep in his head, and the
flame was now blazing as bright as a lighthouse. It was a direct connection with the source of the spirit fire, wherever that might be. Church felt it flare in his
head, in his heart, as a doorway opened, and then the Blue Fire was streaming
out of him.

Veitch awoke on a mudflat next to a grille that looked across the Thames. Next
to him the River Fleet rushed out on its journey to the sea. He felt like he was
dying: too cold, too exhausted, broken-spirited.

On the south bank he could see the dawn light painting the buildings in
beautiful pastel shades. It was only a second or two later that he realised there
was a corresponding light in the culvert in which he lay, only that illumination
was a deep sapphire; and it was coming from him, from his very pores. With it
came not only a tremendous sense of well-being, but also renewed vigour.

He clambered to his feet, stamping the last remaining cold from his limbs
as he cracked his knuckles. "Bleedin' hell," he said in awe.

Then he was at the grille, attempting to prise it open.

The Fomorii marched back and forth at the camp in the underground tunnel,
oblivious to the foul-smelling smoke rolling off the burning piles of rubbish.
They were long used to the foraging rats that ventured close before scurrying
back into the shadows, so they paid scant attention to the movement further
along the tracks.

It was only when the activity refused to recede, indeed began to move closer
than any of the rats had dared before, that they looked up, and by then it was
too late.

A torrent of undulating brown bodies swept towards them from the dark,
covering every square centimetre of the tunnel floor. The rats surged past the
perimeter bonfires up on to the Fomorii, biting chunks out of their forms,
tearing their way into any orifice they found. Their relentless speed and vast
numbers belied the weakness of their size; however many the Fomorii crushed
or swatted away, there were a thousand more to take their place and within seconds the Night Walkers were lost beneath the deluge.

Walking amongst them was Ruth, her eyes blazing with righteous fury. She
was untouched by the scurrying creatures that moved exactly where she wanted,
did just what she required. The information had been there in her mind, ready
to be accessed, all part of the detailed lore she had soaked up from her familiar
while imprisoned in Edinburgh. She had always thought she might be able to
control one, perhaps two, maybe even three, but the extent of her abilities
stunned her. She felt able to do anything.

As she passed the camp, the Blue Fire surged into her limbs, driving out the exhaustion so her physical strength could match the overwhelming confidence
she had discovered. She had a sudden, deep connection with Church, and knew
he had made it through to his destination. Now all she had to do was join him.

Muttering beneath her breath, the rats responded, surging on beyond the
camp, with tens of thousands more coming up behind her.

"Did you feel that?" Laura's jaw sagged in cartoon style as the electric jolt jerked
her limbs.

Shavi held up his hand towards the end of the corridor where the dawn light
had still not penetrated. A ghostly blue aura could just be made out around his
fingers. "It is Church."

Laura closed her eyes in relief. "Good job we're not all losers."

Shavi looked back out of the window at the army of silent Fomorii staring
back. "We have to join him. All of us need to be there."

"That's all well and good, Shav-ster, but I'm still waiting to hear the cunning plan. Maybe the one that turns us invisible so we can waltz past the hordes
of Hell."

As the sunlight slowly moved across the rooftops, the deathly silence was
suddenly broken. From somewhere in the distance came the dim but instantly
recognisable sound of a hunting horn, low and mournful, but drawing nearer.

And the Blue Fire rolled out across the city, joining up with the Fiery Network,
and with it flowed Church's thoughts and hopes and prayers. The Wayfinder had
lit the way for the very essence of his being, the part that had been transformed
from base lead into gold by his experiences at St. Michael's Mount. Deep in his
subconscious, encoded in his spirit, was the link he had with the vital energy
that flowed into everything. He was, finally and truly, its champion, the Brother
of Dragons. He was One.

When he had achieved what it became apparent that he had to do, he broke
the link and put the Wayfinder aside.

"Tell me that did some good," the Bone Inspector said.

Church looked up at him with bright eyes. "The Fabulous Beasts are
coming," he said.

havi and Laura hung out of the window high up on Westminster Abbey to
get a better view. At first it looked like birds moving across the rooftops,
until they saw the drifting smoke and mist rolling away mysteriously before
them. The occasional breaks in the cloud cover became a broad swathe, allowing
sunlight to flood in across the ancient monuments and modern office blocks of
London, spotlighting what they could now see were figures on horseback preceded by a pack of baying hounds.

"The Wild Hunt," Shavi said, recalling the last time he had seen them at
Windsor, shortly before his death.

The unearthly red and white dogs bounded effortlessly across tiles, leaping
the gulfs between buildings as if they were nothing. The Hunt thundered
behind, Cernunnos in his Erl-King aspect at the head, blowing the horn, the
horses galloping an inch or more above the roofs.

And the Hunt was not alone. The Dark Sisters, Macha, Badb and Nemain,
swooped like ravens across the skyline, and beyond them Shavi could just make
out the Morrigan, harbinger of war.

"Look." Shavi pointed to a commotion amongst the Fomorii near the Government offices off Great George Street. Black Shuck, the devil-dog that always
heralded the Wild Hunt, tore through the Night Walkers with huge jaws that
could rend metal.

The Hunt descended on the gathered Fomorii army, ripping back and forth
until they had cleared an area where they could stand and fight. The Dark Sisters swooped from above and the Fomorii fell wherever they chose to attack. But
it was the Morrigan that chilled Laura's blood the most. She walked amongst the
Night Walkers as if she were strolling in the park, and whichever beast she
passed crumpled to the ground, dead.

Laura and Shavi looked at each other; neither of them needed to speakthey knew the attack had given them the opportunity to break out. The Professor, who had been about to return to the detritus of humanity sheltered below, understood too. "How on earth do you propose to get out there?" he said in
horror. "You'll die. Of course you'll die."

"Thanks for the pep talk, granddad. That's got me all jazzed up." Laura
snickered to herself as she ran her fingers through her hair to spike it up.

"These times demand more of us," Shavi said, smiling. "From our conversation last night, I would guess you never imagined you would be a leader of men,
a rock that holds a desperate community together."

"I'm not a leader." Michell looked out at the now-raucous fighting. "No,
you're right. I was shaping my life to end it in the dustbin."

"And now you feel better about yourself. Now there is hope."

He nodded. "How strange that it takes a world falling apart to make us
become better people."

"The life we were leading seduced us away from the things that mattered,"
Shavi said. "We thought society, technology, money, were offering us something
better, but instead we ended up indolent, bored and depressed. This has been a
terrible time, but if we find a way through it, something good will come out of
it. A better life."

"There's something undeniably sad that we can't get back on the tracks
without experiencing such suffering." The strain had made Michell emotional;
tears flecked the corners of his eyes.

"It is the human way. But we do learn. Good does come out of bad, although
at the time of suffering it is impossible to see what good there might be."

"If you two are going to keep talking, I'll just wander off and slit my throat.
Jesus, analyse, analyse. Start living, for God's sake."

Shavi flashed a secret smile at Michell, who winked in return. "Come on,
then," he said to Laura. "I guarantee you won't find it boring from here on in."

"Are you sure you know what you are going to do?" Shavi asked as they stood
at the Abbey door with Michell ready to swing it open.

"Why don't you patronise me a bit more, you big, poncey shaman?" Laura's
face was moody, with a hint of apprehension. "Offer to do somebody a favour and
what do you get? Nag, nag, nag." She squatted down and bowed her head, balancing herself with one hand in front of her. "Okay, granddad. Put those
creaking joints to use."

The Abbey was suddenly filled with the deafening clamour of battle. Laura
knew if she looked up she would be too terrified to act; for all that Cernunnos
had transformed her, she was still the frightened, unconfident woman she had
been for most of her life.

She surprised herself by containing her fears; necessity was a great moti vator, she thought. In her meditative state she had no problem accessing that
corner of her mind she characterised as a brilliant green screen. It gave her a
great sense of pride to see it, a feeling that she was doing the right thing. Environmental activism had been all she had ever truly believed in, and the thing
she felt might actually balance out the weighty debit side of her life. And now,
she thought, nature had paid her back by giving her a reason to live.

It started small. Hairline cracks ran out from her fingers where they touched
the stone. Beyond the Abbey walls, they grew into fissures in pavements and
roads; further on, a street lamp swayed, then crashed to the ground. The Fomorii
nearest to her were thrown this way and that as the ground went into upheaval.

From the long-hidden soil beneath, green shoots sprouted, rapidly growing
into a tumbling thicket of vegetation that moved as if it had a life of its own:
bushes and vines, brambles, flowers, reeds, and then saplings that became trees,
rowan, oak, yew, hawthorn.