‘Cernunnos,’ Ruth said quietly. ‘The Green Man, he’s here. That should give us hope - he’s a god, one of the Oldest Things in the Land, and he’s so closely linked to the Blue Fire.’
Church looked up at the spray of stars. ‘This could be the last time we see this.’ He put an arm around her shoulders. ‘Let’s make the most of it.’
Ruth folded into his arms and rested her head on his shoulder. ‘Sometimes everything feels such a mess, Church. Everything between us should be perfect, but I’m scared that there’s some real darkness inside you—’
‘The Libertarian waiting to come out?’
‘Yes. I was all ready to keep you at arm’s length, but what you said at the fire . . . about the magic. It made me realise what we had, and what we’ve got to fight to keep. We’ve come a long way, from beneath Albert Bridge to this God-forsaken place, and everything feels as if it’s been trying to tear us apart. But here we are!’
‘It just shows how fragile everything is. We can’t take anything for granted. You and me. What we feel for each other. There’s always a threat waiting, beyond the path, in the forest.’ He kissed the top of her head, closed his eyes and indulged himself in the warmth from her body. ‘I think you’re right - there is a darkness inside me. And you. We know what happens when you get caught up in the power of the Craft, right?’
She stiffened, realising the truth of this for the first time.
‘And that’s how it should be. Because without that darkness we wouldn’t be able to fight. We’d be useless. That’s where we find our anger, our drive. I’ve been thinking more and more about the rules hidden in life about us, and particularly in that whole duality thing. It’s everywhere, in every aspect of life. Two faces. Light and dark. Summer and winter. Even Cernunnos has two faces - his light side and his dark side, the Erl-King. We need both. The trick is not to let that darkness dominate. I . . . we . . . have to fight every day to keep it under control because there’s always a chance it could break through. I could become the Libertarian. You could destroy everything! But we can fight, and we can win. We just mustn’t . . . stray from the path . . . of you and me, and what we believe in.’
She was silent for a moment; he couldn’t see her face in the dark to judge her mood. Then she said, ‘But doesn’t that mean Existence is wrong to destroy the Void? We need both of them.’
‘I don’t know. I do know that the Void is going to destroy us and Existence if it gets its way. This battle has been building since the beginning of time. Who knows what the outcome’s going to be?’
She kissed him deeply. ‘I’m sorry,’ she said, ‘for almost making a mess of things.’
‘That’s what we do, right?’
Behind a tent, away from the buzz of people returning to the campfire, she pulled him down and kissed him again. Within moments, they were deep in passion, an act of love that was also an act of magic. The world flashed by, the sounds of the camp and the jubilant roar of Cernunnos, all lost to the rhythm of their bodies and the beat of their blood. When they were finished, they held each other in silence and remembered what they had overcome to be there. Neither of them thought about what the following day would bring.
In the hazy half-world on the edge of sleep, Church had an impression of someone circling them slowly, close to the ground. He saw bright eyes and a wide grin filled with mischief.
The voice rolled out, rich and wry: ‘The Merry Wanderer of the Night looks after fools and lovers. Dream on, sweet children, and dream the world a’right.’
3
Dawn came up hard on the blasted lands. The red sun turned the desolate landscape to blood and within an hour the heat was unforgiving. The remnants of the Army of Dragons gathered to see Church and the others off. Church felt undeserving of the awe he saw in their respectful faces, but he understood their need for inspiration and moved through them, shaking hands and exchanging comments with the ones he knew personally.
Finally he came to Ronnie who gave him a formal salute. ‘Sir!’
‘You’re going to be fine, Ronnie.’
‘I miss Decebalus, sir.’
‘We all do.’ He glanced at Aula in the crowd, who had swapped her white Roman gown for black armour; her face was scrubbed and her hair cut short. ‘But you’re a Brother of Dragons, Ronnie. And you’ll be a better leader than most of the others here. You’ve seen what heartless leadership can do.’
‘I hope I can do you proud, sir.’
‘Just watch out for the Fabulous Beasts. You’ll know when to make your move.’
Church was surprised to see that many of the gods had turned out too. Tyr clapped him hard on the back and roared with laughter. Freyja seductively kissed his hand, to Ruth’s annoyance, and Lei-Gong bowed formally.
‘The thunder and the lightning are at your disposal, Brother of Dragons,’ he said.
Church was increasingly disturbed to see the other gods watching him with hints of the same awe that had gripped the Army of Dragons; before, they had viewed him with contempt or humour. Was he that changed?
Finally, on the edge of the camp, the Tuatha Dé Danaan waited in gleaming ranks. Lugh stepped out and took Church’s hand, and then shook the hands of each of the Brothers and Sisters of Dragons and Tom’s too. ‘This may well be the last time we meet,’ he said. ‘I am proud to have known you. Fragile Creatures no more - you are the equals of the Golden Ones. You are prepared to sacrifice all you have for our race. We can do no less for you. And if, this day, the Golden Ones are eradicated, keep us in your hearts and remember us fondly, Jack Giant-Killer, for we were spoiled and arrogant, but we brought joy and magic to the lands and that should be our monument.’
‘It will be.’ Church hesitated and then gave Lugh a hug. The god appeared surprised at first, but accepted the bond.
As they moved out into the blasted lands, Church and the others could feel the eyes of the Tuatha Dé Danaan on their backs, and the attention of the other gods and the Army of Dragons. Despite their best intentions, it felt like an ending.
4
Her face streaked with tears, her clothes filthy with the sticky ochre dust, Laura staggered across the blasted lands. She had no idea where she was going, just that she had to get away, away from the consequences of her terrible betrayals and the lies and the guilt. If she had stayed with the others she knew she would only have betrayed them again, and again, until they were all dead like Hunter, and the dreams of the Blue Fire and the hopes of all those who believed in Existence were ashes. She would do that. She would destroy anything, friends, strangers, entire worlds. She wouldn’t stop until there was nothing left.
She was pleased the blasted lands were so free of moisture. She’d cried herself out, and her abilities needed her to be hydrated to work properly.
If she kept walking, she wondered if she might finally dry up and die like any plant left too long in that place.
‘I’m not human,’ she muttered to herself. ‘The girl I was is gone. What’s here is nothing. It doesn’t matter any more if I die. Who would care, right?’
Her rambling was disturbed by a long, low call rolling out across the hardpan. Through her daze, she thought it sounded familiar. Glancing back, at first she saw only the dust and the haze, but eventually a dark shape emerged from the glare, bulky, moving fast towards her. She watched it for a moment as her skittering thoughts coalesced and then recognition surfaced from the murk.
‘Shit. Shit. Shit!’
Drawing energy from depths she didn’t know she had, she broke into a mad scramble. Cernunnos, the god of the green, the power in nature itself, was her patron and her guide. He owned her. And now he was coming to destroy her for her grand betrayal.
Choking on the dust, Laura dived behind a tower of rock, hoping it would hide her from view long enough to decide on an alternative course. She’d taken only four steps when the ground shifted under her feet and a hand snapped around her ankle.
‘Bastard! Get off!’ She kicked out, only to be throw
n roughly onto her back by a brutish, hairless figure rising quickly from where it had been lying hidden in the dust. It was the colour of the rocks, with skin like a lizard’s and double-lidded eyes that would protect it from the dust-storms that blew across the blasted lands.
Before Laura could fight back, it had clamped one large, rubbery hand over her mouth and pulled her up under its arm as if she were a doll. Then, with a lurching gait, it loped rapidly across the hardpan. Laura’s struggles were quickly contained with a few hard punches, and by the time her senses had stopped reeling, they were below ground level on a dry river bed.
Rounding a bend, Laura saw a force of around two hundred - Lament-Brood, Redcaps and many more like the brutish creature that held her tight. The ranks parted to let her captor run deep into their midst and then closed behind them. Laura was thrown roughly onto the pebbly bed. Dazed, she staggered to her feet, cursing loudly, not caring if they turned on her and killed her there and then.
‘Well, a Sister of Dragons.’ The voice was rich and mocking; and familiar.
‘Holy shit,’ Laura snarled bitterly.
As the warriors parted again, Niamh strode out to stand before Laura, a sadistic smile twisting her lips. Despite the heat, she wore black armour and the black, horned headdress that emphasised the beauty of her features. ‘Here I truly am the queen of the Waste Lands.’
‘Bitch of the Waste Lands,’ Laura snapped.
‘So bitter. And you have helped us so much. Now, I think, you can help us some more.’ She nodded to the brutish creatures and said, ‘Hurt her, a little. When she is more compliant, we shall return home and see what else she knows.’
5
Though they were still a mile away, the Fortress of the Enemy loomed up high above their heads, casting a long, dark shadow across the blasted lands. Above the walls, the flying creatures swooped and soared, calling out harsh, mechanical cries. The air smelled like stagnant ponds on a hot day.
Church and the others had spent half the day seeking an alternative path that had allowed them to approach with a modicum of cover. A crevice cut through the hardpan towards the walls, and though it was not particularly deep it allowed them to get close without discovery so they could search for some point of entry.
Church brought them to a halt at the point where the crevice narrowed and rose over boulders. Crawling on his belly with Veitch beside him, he reached a vantage point where he could scan the remainder of the approach. A towering door of beaten black iron was set in the wall, but there was no other sign of access.
‘See there?’ Veitch indicated rows of small windows on the upper storeys. ‘They’ll be able to pick us off with arrows before we’re halfway to the door. There’s no way we’d be able to slip through anyway. There’s probably an army of guards on the other side.’
‘There’s no point trying a frontal assault,’ Church replied. ‘We’ll get nowhere. It’s got to be subterfuge or nothing.’
‘You’re using big words again. What are you saying - we sneak in, in disguise or something?’
‘Or something.’
‘You’re a crazy suicidal fucker.’
‘Better idea?’
Shielding his eyes against the glare, Veitch looked along the length of the wall. ‘I saw you sneak off with Ruthie last night,’ he said incongruously.
‘This isn’t the time, Ryan.’
‘Yeah, it is. We’re not all coming out of this in one piece. We probably won’t have another good time.’
Church sighed. ‘We don’t want this getting between us when we’re inside.’
Veitch bristled. ‘You think I’d let it? I know my duty.’
‘I didn’t mean to imply—’
‘Yeah, you did. Nobody’d think you’d do that, but me - I’m just the thug, the right-hand man, the psycho who always lets his emotions get in the way of business.’
‘What do you want, Ryan?’
‘I want to be the good guy. I want to be the hero like you. I want everything you’ve got. Respect, just . . . people thinking well of you. I want Ruth.’
‘I know you do.’
‘And I know I’m not going to get her. I can see that, and wishing doesn’t make it all right. Fairy-tale endings, they’re for people like you. Not me.’
‘Don’t do yourself down. You’re as good as any of us.’
‘You’ve always stood by me, I know that. Makes me feel even more of a stupid bastard for the fucking awful things I did. And there it is - you’re better ’cause you think things like that. And I’m worse, ’cause I think things like I did, and do things like I did. You’re the hero deep inside. And I’m the fucking psycho. You always do the right thing, ’cause that’s who you are. And I do the wrong thing. Give me two choices, and I’ll always pick the wrong one.’
‘You’re here now. You came back to us. You didn’t have to.’
‘Yeah, but did I do it for the right reason, or because I wanted Ruth to think I was a big man? A good man. That’s all I’ve ever wanted to be since I was a kid, and I want it even more now I’ve been such a nasty, vicious wanker - I want everybody to know that deep down I’m all right. That I can do the right thing. That I’m the hero.’
The emotions were so raw that Church didn’t know how to answer him.
‘I’ve had a bit of a wake-up call these last few days. I don’t know where it’ll take me yet, but I’m going to do my best not to be a selfish bastard. I won’t try to steal Ruth away from you, however much I want to. Not that I even think I could, but I’m not going to try. I want you to know you don’t have to worry about that. About me. I’ll have your back in there. I’m trying to learn from you, because you’re the best fucking example I’ve got in this world.’
‘I’m a mess, Ryan.’
‘Yeah, but you get over it. And I don’t. And that’s the difference between a hero and a wannabe. I don’t want to be a wannabe. I want people to know I’m all right. And I want you to be the first. I’m going to be better than I was.’
‘I trust you, Ryan. You don’t have to worry about that.’
‘Stop being so fucking noble, you cunt. Jesus. I’m never going to live up to your standards.’ A grin broke through his troubled expression, and Church realised how much he liked him. ‘It’s you and me together, buddy. The last gang in town is going out fighting. We’ll do our best. And if we don’t win, we’ll still have done our best.’
‘That sounds like a better motto than mine.’
‘What’s yours?’
‘No happy endings.’
‘That’s crap. At least I’m better than you at something.’
Breathlessly, Mallory slid in next to them. ‘You need to see this.’
They crawled back on their bellies and pulled themselves up on the wall of the crevice where they could see a column of the Enemy approaching across the hardpan. At the head, Niamh rode on a black reptilian horse. Just behind her, Laura trudged, head down.
‘She is with them,’ Church said. ‘I tried to believe there was some other explanation.’
‘Still might be,’ Veitch replied. ‘Things aren’t always how they seem. I should know.’
Church was distracted from his mounting despair at Laura’s betrayal by the sight of Mallory’s knuckles growing white where he gripped the rock.
‘That bitch.’ Mallory blinked away a tear of rage. A shudder ran through him.
‘Laura?’ Church asked.
‘Niamh.’ Mallory steadied himself. ‘I don’t know why I feel so bad. But I see her, and I just want to get out there and kill her.’ He looked away. ‘I don’t understand what’s wrong with me at the moment. I keep feeling really strong emotions, but I don’t know where they’re coming from.’
In contrast, Church felt a damp sense of dismay when he saw what had become of Niamh, all-pervasive like the cold of a midwinter day. He recalled her on their long trek across the years together, on a warm night on the road from Rome, or in a New England autumn, when she had been consumed with love fo
r him. He had never felt the same depth of emotion back, but her attention and care for him had been endearing, and had kept him going during his darkest hours.
Her transformation was baffling, and he fought to comprehend it. The answer came when he saw Tom crouched down at the foot of the crevice, lost to his dismal thoughts, not the Tom he recalled either but one who yearned for death.
‘I made her that way,’ he said quietly. Devastation descended on him. ‘I turned the Axis of Existence and altered events, saved Tom and Niamh, and probably a load of other stuff I don’t even know about. But every change has unforeseen consequences.’ He chewed his lip in dismay. ‘Every bad thing she’s done in this form, it’s my fault.’
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