Always Forever taom-3

by Mark Chadbourn

  A shadow fell across them. Church knew what it was before he looked up. The serpent's head towered over them, the same terrifying features he had glimpsed in the sea off Skye: a flattened cobra head, yellowish eyes glowing with an alien intelligence, strange whiskers like a catfish tufting from its mouth, which contained several rows of lethal teeth.

  It hovered for a second or two, during which time Church felt the faintest contact with an intelligence that fizzed in the back of his head. He knew what it was going to do before the head darted down towards them, jaws prised wide. Church rolled over and pulled the Sword from its scabbard, jabbing it upwards towards the descending darkness. It impaled the head as if it were slipping through crude oil. The serpent made a high-pitched mechanical whine as it thrashed madly. Church felt an electric jolt in that deep connection the serpent had made with him. An instant later it transformed into a searing scream. Caledfwlch's particular powers ensured that death always resulted from the slightest injury it inflicted.

  Church tried to retreat from the bond the serpent had made with him, but it was locked in place. He felt its life force flare briefly, then dwindle down into a dark tunnel before finally winking out. Its body slipped back into the water, lifeless.

  The shock of feeling the beast's final moment left Church dazed and distressed. Tom shook him roughly to bring him round, but the sensations stayed with him like a shadow in his subconscious.

  Wave Sweeper continued to lurch from side to side. By then the Tuatha De Danann forces had made it on to the deck with several silver weapons resembling harpoons plugged into grenade launchers. Three of them manhandled one to the rail and launched it.

  Lightning crackled out across the water. It headed towards the north bank, and then made an unnatural dogleg to the right to strike one of the serpents as it attempted to dive. The creature burst from the water, stinking foully as it charred. A moment later, its shrivelled form drifted downstream.

  The remaining serpent was retreating as the Tuatha De Danann struck. It was eradicated just as quickly.

  Tom saw Church eyeing the weapons cautiously. "Yes," he said. "They are too powerful to be in hands that cannot be trusted."

  Manannan forged on quickly along the centre of the channel. Church watched the banks intently, but he could see no sign of any Fomorii threat. Yet the air of incipient danger grew more and more intense until deep, rhythmic vibrations began to run through Church's legs; it was accompanied by a distant noise, almost too low to be heard beneath the wind. Something about it made his stomach turn. "What is that?" he asked.

  Tom stared into the water darkly. "The beating of Balor's heart." The wind whipped at him.

  Soon after the smoke and river fog closed in around the ship, limiting vision to a few yards ahead. Manannan let Wave Sweeper drift slowly. The crew remained silent, listening intently for any sound of attack.

  Thoom. Thoora. Thoom. The beating had grown a little louder. Church felt it in the pit of his stomach.

  And then the obscuring mists parted and Church's blood ran cold. A black tower soared up from the northern bank, its top lost in the clouds above. It rested on the remnants of the Tower of London, the ancient fortress that symbolised the defence of the nation, and was constructed like a termite nest from rubble, crushed vehicles, plastics, household refuse, girders torn from other buildings and anything else that came to hand. Slowly Church looked up the structure as far as he could see. Fires blazed at various points, some inside seen through ragged windows, some on the surface where the leftovers of the twenty-first century still burned. It was a sinister mockery of the gleaming skyscrapers that rose out of the City's financial district only yards away, another source of unbridled power.

  As he watched, there was movement through the windows and a second later winged Fomorii burst out in a massive swarm. They swooped up as one, then hurtled down towards Wave Sweeper.

  The Tuatha lle Danann were prepared. The harpoons that had made short shrift of the serpents were hooked upwards and unleashed. Lightning crackled across the sky, tearing holes in the Fomorii swarm before the harpoons were drawn back, reloaded and fired again.

  Some of the Fomorii made it through and engaged with the Tuatha De Danann in fierce fighting across the deck. Church ran into the fray wielding Caledfwlch. Wherever he went the Tuatha De Danann stepped aside deferentially. The Fomorii he encountered shrivelled in the air like dry autumn leaves and fluttered into nothingness on the wet boards.

  But the Fomorii were proving too numerous. Many of the Tuatha lle Danann were driven over the rails into the river or carried off into the black tower to meet an undoubtedly hideous fate. Others were torn apart as the winged menace descended on them like raptors. Manannan kept the ship going at full speed, steering it as far towards the south bank as he could without running aground.

  A difficult course had to be navigated through the remains of the shattered bridges-London, Southwark, Blackfriars and Waterloo-but eventually they rounded a bend in the river and the swarms of Fomorii began to fall back.

  Finally, the aerial assault ended. Church slumped against the mast, exhausted. "I can't believe they've left us alone."

  Tom, who had kept well out of the trouble, replied, "It is just a lull, a regrouping. They will be back in force soon."

  "Then we better get to where we're going quickly."

  The parade of broken bridges continued apace: Westminster, Lambeth, Vauxhall, Chelsea. But then the familiar site of the Battersea Park Peace Pagoda loomed up out of the smoke, reminding Church of Sundays spent walking there with Marianne. Finally the remains of Albert Bridge came into view, as misty as the day when it all started for Church so many months before.

  He felt a brief frisson as the images flooded into his mind: the figure washing his head in the water, the first meeting with Ruth, the trip beneath the bridge and his first encounter with one of the Fomorii before it murdered Maurice Gibbons.

  "If I'd known then what I know now…" he said.

  "Be thankful you don't know what lies ahead," Tom said darkly.

  As they prepared to drop anchor, Church headed below deck to find Niamh so he could say goodbye to her; he felt he owed her that at least. He searched for fifteen minutes with a number of Tuatha De Danann pointing him this way and that. Eventually he saw her emerging from a cabin in an area set aside for the Tuatha De Danann force. He called her name and was instantly surprised by what he saw on her face: unmistakable shame. She attempted to walk away as if she had not heard him, then thought better of it.

  "What's wrong?" he asked, honestly concerned.

  She forced a smile before leading him away from the door a few paces. "I will be allowed to accompany the small group Nuada has placed in charge of the Wish-Hex."

  "To Balor? I don't think I like that. You'd be better off here."

  "Why? Because you think I have not been in a dangerous situation before?"

  "No, because I don't want you to get hurt." He shrugged, uncomfortable at the open way she was watching him. "The others I don't care about-"

  She placed a hand on his forearm to stop him. "That makes it all worthwhile, Jack. There is no need to say any more. But I must come, for the WishHex is now my responsibility, and your survival is my responsibility. If I am not there, you may die."

  "Maybe-"

  "That is the way it is."

  The door swung open on the cabin Niamh had just exited and one of Nuada's lieutenants swaggered out. He cast a glance at Niamh, then moved lazily towards the stairs.

  Church looked from him into Niamh's face, but he couldn't find the words to express the thoughts that were suddenly falling into place.

  She saved him the trouble. "We all do what we can, Jack."

  Deeply troubled at what he had forced upon her, Church made his way back to the deck where Tom and the Bone Inspector were waiting for him. They would be going ashore with a small group of Tuatha De Danann briefed by Nuada before he'd left with Lugh and Veitch. Another group would remain to guard th
e entrance to the tunnels so no Fomorii could come up behind them, while the remainder would stay on board Wave Sweeper to take the fight back to the enemy, as a distracting ploy more than anything.

  "I want to know who's in charge," the Bone Inspector said. He patently wasn't going to accept any answer that included the Tuatha lle llanann.

  "The Brother of Dragons will lead the way," Taranis said in his usual aloof manner. "However, the Golden Ones who will be accompanying you must be free to follow their own hearts if the need arises."

  Church knew what that meant-they must be free to sneak off to unleash the Wish-Hex.

  While they prepared for a boat to be lowered, no one noticed the dark figure slip out from the place where he had been hiding for so long, living on the blood and meat of rats and other foul creatures. Nor did they hear the faint splash as he slipped into the cold water and swam quickly to the shore. Callow had bided his time well and now things were working out better than he could have dreamed.

  The area beneath the bridge gave Church an uncomfortable feeling. Despite the fact that most of the span was missing, it was still uncommonly dark. An unpleasant atmosphere set his nerves on edge.

  The Tuatha lle Danann stood back to allow Church to search for an opening. They gathered protectively around the large chest that he knew contained the Wish-Hex. Niamh was with them, pretending to be aloof from the Fragile Creatures.

  "I don't know how I'm going to find this," he said after five minutes wandering around the featureless area.

  The Bone Inspector swore profusely. "Call yourself a leader of men?" He marched past Church and rammed his staff against a stone set into the wall on which the bridge's foundations were set. The ground fell away with a ghostly silence. "After you," he said sarcastically.

  The tunnel was rough hewn, dripping with water that ran in rivulets along the edges. It was only wide enough for two people to walk side by side, though the ceiling was high enough to accommodate the Fomorii bulk. It sloped down quickly into deep shadows. Tom lit a torch they had brought with them, as did one of the Tuatha De Danann.

  Then, when they had all steeled themselves, Church and Tom led the way, with the Bone Inspector close behind and the rest coming up at a distance as if they were barely connected.

  When the tension of entering enemy territory had ebbed a little, the thought that had been troubling Church the most rose to the surface. "I've just been talking to Niamh," he whispered to Tom. "I got a hint she knows what's going to happen."

  "They all do."

  "I don't get it. How does that work? Even you, you're always talking darkly about what the future holds like you know it inside out."

  Tom said nothing, but Church wasn't prepared to let it lie. This was fundamental.

  "If everything is set in stone," he stressed to get a reaction, "what's the point?"

  "It isn't like that."

  "Then what is it like?"

  Tom sighed. "It is beyond your perception."

  "Then put it in simple terms. For a stupid old country boy." Church thought about adding a few choice words, but decided it would be unproductive.

  "Those who can see the future-although that's really not the right term for it-see it as a series of snapshots, not as a movie. Sometimes there is no context. Sometimes the photos are out of order. Reading meaning in them is a dangerous business. You recall, I described it once as catching glimpses from the window of a speeding car."

  "But it's still fixed."

  "Nothing is fixed. Anywhere."

  Church cursed quietly. "Just give it to me straight, instead of packaged around your usual-"

  "Everything can be changed by the will of a strong individual. One man. Or woman. There are no rules, not at the level the great thinkers of humanity examined, anyway. Only the illusion of rules. The future runs right on like a river, but it can be turned back by someone with the right heart and drive and state of mind. What the old storybooks laughingly call a hero. The Tuatha De Danann pretend they know everything that's going to happen and that has happened, pretend it even to themselves, but you can see from the way they've been acting in the last few hours that in their hearts they know the truth. What they perceive might not turn out to be the way it appears, or perhaps they have missed part of the equation. Or perhaps someone like you will come along. There is a reason for free will, jack."

  Church thought about this for several minutes. It gave him a deep feeling of comfort, although he couldn't quite tell why. "Then you don't really know anything."

  Tom remained silent for a long, uncomfortable moment. "That's not quite true. Some things are so weighed down by the monumental events around them that they might as well be set in stone."

  However much Church questioned him about this, he would say no more. But Tom's words had set other thoughts in motion. Barely daring to ask, he said firmly, "Do you know who's going to betray us?"

  Tom kept his eyes fixed firmly ahead.

  "You do, don't you?" His anger rose quickly. After all the months of worry, Tom could have told them at any time. "Why didn't you say something? You know it could mean everything might fall apart! You've got to tell me!"

  "I can't." Tom's face was unreadable.

  "Even with the potential repercussions? Why not? Do you want to see us suffer?"

  Tom rounded on him furiously. "Of course not! I can't tell you because there's too much that might be changed."

  "How long have you known?"

  "I've always known."

  "Always?"

  "Always. And if you'd been paying attention, you would have known too."

  The words were like a slap to the face. In the space between seconds, a million memories flashed across his mind as he turned over everything he had seen and heard over the previous months. Had he missed something? Had he screwed up again? "I guess I'll know soon enough," he said with bitter resignation. "I just hope you can live with yourself when it comes out."

  The tunnel followed an undulating path, the changes in the air pressure telling Church it regularly ran under the river. He had taken to holding the Wayfinder permanently aloft so the walls were painted with a sapphire wash. The tiny blue flame gave him a measure of encouragement in that dark place, and raised the spirits of Tom and the Bone Inspector too. The flame pointed dead ahead.

  "Why didn't it lead us to the head before?" Church asked.

  "Because it is responding to what you hold in your heart," Tom replied.

  "It's alive?"

  "As much as anything can be said to be alive, yes."

  When they'd been walking an hour or more, the Wayfinder flame began to grow brighter. At the same time, the unnerving background beat became rapidly louder. Within ten minutes it was coming through the walls all around-BADOOM, BA-DOOM-a war drum marking their passage to disaster.

  Two and a half hours later, the tunnel rose up, while at the same time becoming more formed, with props and stone lining the walls. The Wayfinder's flame had started to point away from the main route of the tunnel so that when they came to a large oaken door Church was prepared for it.

  "Looks like we're here," he said. The door was locked, but Caledfwlch sliced through the rusty iron mechanism easily. Church looked around at the others. Tom and the Bone Inspector were grim faced, the Tuatha De Danann impassive, Niamh concerned and colourless; they all nodded.

  He yanked open the door.

  It felt like they had walked into a foundry. After the chill of the tunnel, the heat was stifling, the air suffused with the smell of acrid smoke that caught the back of their throats. The thunder of Balor's heart was almost deafening.

  The stone walls and flagged floor suggested they were somewhere in the lowest level of the Tower of London. The Bone Inspector breathed deeply, despite the atmosphere. "Can you feel it? Ancient power, even though those bastards have tried to pervert it. I haven't been here for years-too many people. Should have come back sooner." He looked at Church. "This place was sacred long before they threw up this mountain of st
one over the top of it. If any place can be called the heart of the country, it's here."

  The Tuatha De Danann set the chest containing the Wish-Hex down in the middle of the room. "What is in that box?" Church said mockingly. Nuada's lieutenant didn't reply, didn't even acknowledge he had spoken. Church caught Niamh's eye as he turned back to the others and she gave him a secret nod. "We need to move quickly," he continued. "They might already know we're here-"

  "The Wayfinder will blind Balor's perception to you, at least for a while," Tom said. "And if you hadn't brought the energy flow back to life at St. Michael's Mount you wouldn't be here at all."

  Church made to follow the lantern's flame until he saw the Tuatha De Danann were not moving. "We shall wait here," Nuada's lieutenant said.

  "I'd say we've got even less time than we thought," Church said under his breath to Tom and the Bone Inspector as they left the room.

  The seething heat had them all red-faced and soaked in sweat before they had got very far along the maze of once-dank corridors. Church had visited the Tower before and had never seen any sign of that area, so he guessed it must lie beneath the zone normally open to the tourists. He had the Sword at the ready, but the entire lower level was deserted.

  "They're all up top throwing rocks at the boat," the Bone Inspector said, but Church wasn't convinced.

  The Wayfinder led them to a short corridor that ended in a dead end. At first sight there was nothing out of the ordinary, but then Church allowed his perceptions to shift until he could see the lines of Blue Fire running through the stone like veins, converging into the circular design of a serpent eating its own tail. He steeled himself, then placed his hand hard on the pattern. The wall ground open to reveal a shaft plunging down into the earth, the bottom lost in shadows.

  The Bone Inspector leaned in to inspect it. "There are handholds cut into the stone." He tucked his staff into the back of his shirt and levered himself over the lip. "Don't know why they made these things so bloody lethal. One slip and there'll be a mess on the floor."