At first Church couldn't grasp what Calatin was saying, but then he remembered the wounds on Tom's forehead when they first met him in the mine and he felt horror grow within him. "He's got one of those in his head?" he said with disgust.
"Oh, it's not all bad." Callow sidled up until he was near Calatin.
"You've got one too?"
"Mine was by choice, dear boy. I have a remarkable aptitude for seizing opportunities."
"You call that an opportunity?" Church was disgusted. "It's probably eating away at your brain."
"It can be removed at any time, or I can simply live with it. If you think that's bad, you should try to get rid of lice."
"Why did you do it?" Church asked.
"I told you, an opportunity. By declaring my allegiance early in the game, it gave me access to all the miracles and wonders that will rain down on us."
"You sold us all out." The intensity of hatred in Veitch's voice made Church feel almost uncomfortable.
"Now, now," Callow cautioned. "You must accept some responsibility. If young Mr. Churchill had not been so indiscreet about what was happening to the world that night in the tavern, I would not have been prepared when I did encounter my good allies here." He sighed theatrically. "Oh, how strange fate is. I knew sooner or later you would involve yourself in something that would favour me, so after our evening's wassailing I resolved to follow you. I must admit, after the devastation you wreaked at the depot in Salisbury I thought things might be a little too hot even for me. But then I met my good friends!" Callow seemed about to clap Calatin on the shoulders, then thought twice about it. "They made it easier for me to shadow you. But at a distance it was so hard to discern exactly what you had achieved; it required a little, shall we say, investigative skill on my behalf. Did you ever wonder who had gained access to your car? Your tents?"
"I'm going to kill you." Witch's voice was low and understated, but the words contained power.
"I don't think so," Callow replied sneeringly, but Church could see a flicker of unease in his eyes.
Calatin lurched forward unsteadily, knocking Callow out of the way; he looked even sicker than he had in the mine. "You still do not seem to understand exactly what has occurred. Your loss of the Quadrillax has destroyed more than merely your own feeble attempt to stop our advance. Through all time and all space, their significance has radiated: objects of such power that we never dared achieve our ultimate dream-the eradication of all light from the universe. Our victories were always tempered. We settled for control, in the certain knowledge that a step too far would rebound on us tenfold. Now, anything is possible."
As he neared, Church's gorge rose at the hideous stink coming off him. Calatin bent down and lowered the living dagger until its tip was only an inch from Church's right eye. Church tried not to blink, nor even to think about what Calatin was going to do next; the Fomor had revealed his sadism quite plainly in the mine's torture chamber. He thought for a moment, then lowered it to Church's cheek, where he pressed its razored edge into the soft flesh and made a slight downward cut. Church winced as the blood flowed.
"With the Quadrillax in our hands, everything has been lost. And you are responsible." He showed a row of blackened teeth and released a blast of foul breath into Church's face.
"You're going to destroy them?" Church asked once he had recovered.
Calatin peered at him as if he were insane, then rose and limped away. "They will be taken from here to our nearest retreat, where they will be encased in molten iron, then buried in the furthest reaches of the earth, never to be recovered-"
"What about Balor?" Shavi interrupted.
Calatin whirled, his eyes blazing, but slowly the insipid smile returned to his face. "The Highfather will soon be back," he said in a manner that made Church shiver, "and the glory will be mine."
Then he turned and yelled out something in the guttural Fomorii language before limping away. A second later Church, Shavi and Veitch were wrenched up in the black mass of bodies and swept away.
Ruth watched the scene in horror from the treetop branch, then turned to Nina, who motioned that they should return. The brief journey back to the cottage contained none of the awe and wonder Ruth had felt during her first flight, just a sense of impending doom and a feeling of utter futility. Nina led the way back down the chimney and as they emerged into the main room, Ruth had the same sensation of being fired from a cannon as she rushed back into her prone body. A second later, she stirred, feeling leaden and stupid, her thoughts no longer quicksilver; her mouth felt as if she had awoken after a night on the tiles; all her muscles were aching. The loss seemed so great her eyes filled with tears.
"I could have stayed like that forever," she said.
"And there lies the danger." Nina levered herself to her feet, stumbling awkwardly. "Spend too long in that form and your essence begins to break down, dissipate like smoke, until you return to the universe."
Ruth rose and dressed dismally, trying to tell herself it was simply the effects of coming down off the drug. But as the initial edge of her experience began to fade, the threat facing them returned in force.
"I can't let them take Church and the others to that awful black tower. I can't let them take the talismans. But what can I do?"
Nina nodded sympathetically. "There were so many of them-"
"They've got a way to go to reach the tower. We could head them offl"
"You're starting to sound like John Wayne." Nina's faint humour underlined the futility of what Ruth was saying, but she wasn't going to be deterred.
"Will you come with me?"
Nina shook her head. "I love my life too much. If there was a chance-"
"Then I'll have to try it alone. I can't give up." She fastened her jacket and strode defiantly to the door.
"Wait." Nina hurried to the dresser and returned with what appeared to be a piece of root with grass and vines wrapped around it. "I laboured hard over that. Slip it in your pocket. It won't make you invisible to the things out there, but it should mask your presence enough to make it easier for you to travel through the countryside at night."
Ruth thanked her, but her mind was already on what lay ahead. As she opened the door and slipped out, Nina called behind her, "Be true to your destiny. Blessed be." And then the door slammed shut and Ruth was alone in the night.
It was a real effort to scramble up the steep hillside amongst the trees, but soon she was at the road. It was deserted, with no sign that the Fomorii had ever been there. Callow's car had gone too, and Ruth presumed they were using it to transport the talismans because the Fomorii were unable to touch them.
She ran to the van, then swore angrily; she didn't have the keys. "Laura!" she called out. "It's Ruth." At first there was no answer and Ruth feared the worst, then she heard what seemed to be a stream of abuse in a frail voice. "Never mind that. Open the doors."
It took an agonisingly long time, but finally the doors swung open. Laura hung on the handle, obviously in great pain, barely able to hold herself up. "It's freezing," she said hoarsely. "I thought I was going to die in here."
"There's still a chance for that." Ruth clambered past her. "God, I hope your shady past taught you how to hotwire an ignition system."
"Yes, but if you think I'm going to crawl under a steering wheel-"
"Just tell me!" Ruth heaved herself over the back of the seats. "I never thought I'd say this, but I'm glad it's you here and not someone who's lawabiding." She paused. "How come they left you here?"
"I guess they thought I was dead after what that bastard did. No one figured to look in the van."
Laura guided Ruth through the process, laughing at Ruth's scream as she almost burned her fingers in the flash as the spark jumped between the two wires. Once the engine roared into life, Ruth slammed the van into first and pulled on to the road. While she powered through the gears, Laura told how she had listened to the attack of the Baobhan Sith and everything that happened after, while keeping as quiet as she could to av
oid detection.
"How do you feel?" Ruth asked.
"Like I've been slashed into bloody chunks with a razor. How do you think I feel?"
"Just asking."
There was a long pause and then Laura said, "I could do with some more painkillers."
"Hurts?"
"Like hell. I think some of the wounds have opened up." Ruth heard Laura shift around under the pile of sleeping bags that were supposed to be keeping her warm. "Sorry I'm not going to be much use."
"Even if you were fighting fit, there wouldn't be much you could do."
"No big plan, then?"
Ruth didn't answer. She didn't even know what she was doing. The thought of that mass of Fomorii filled her with dread. The only way she could avoid paralysis was to keep moving on instinct, ignoring the ringing alarms in her head that were saying her futile act was going to be the death of her.
She took the treacherous bends at breakneck speed, peering over the wheel for some sign of the Fomorii. She knew they couldn't have travelled far in the time since she had left the cottage, so she killed the lights and cruised by the light of the moon, using the central white lines for guidance. She had the window wound down a little, listening for the cacophany of grunts and shrieks, but the night was eerily still, just the rustling of the trees and the singing of the tires on the road.
Then, as she rounded the next bend, she saw the seething mass ahead of her, moving in complete silence-which was somehow even more disturbing than the hideous sound they normally made. She slammed on the brakes and slewed to a halt, switching off the engine as quickly as she could and praying the Fomorii were singleminded enough to ignore the sound of her approach. Away up front she could make out the headlamps of Callow's car, moving slowly.
She turned to Laura, whose shock of blonde hair glowed like the moon where it stuck out of the sleeping bags. "Hold tight," she said softly.
Although Church could feel rough hands on him, he seemed to be floating in and out of consciousness. It was all he could do to maintain any rational thought among the overwhelming sense of evil which seemed to wrap around him in thick, black swathes. But he could feel movement as he was dragged or carried, smell the sickening stink that clouded all around, hear the rasp of inhuman breath. He had no idea where they were being taken, but he knew their lives wouldn't last long after their arrival, and he feared, in a way he didn't think possible, what tortures Calatin would inflict before his death.
Then, through all the turmoil, he became aware of a distant sound, slowly rippling closer like the rumbling of an approaching tidal wave. As it neared, he tried to clutch at his ears to keep it out; his stomach bucked and flipped, his gorge rose, his mind threatened to switch off completely. And only then did he guess what it was: the sound of the Fomorii in fear.
Suddenly there was chaos. The night was torn apart by ferocious cries as the Fomorii broke up in disarray. Church was dropped roughly to the ground, where he bounced around like a pinball as the beasts surged in all directions, tearing and bruising his flesh. But with the claustrophobic atmosphere of evil disrupted by the confusion, he found it easier to think. Somehow he got to his feet and looked around frantically for Veitch and Shavi. Instead, he saw what appeared to be a whirlpool in the dark sea of Fomorii ahead of him as they circled crazily in one spot. At first he watched in confusion, until he realised there was something at the heart of the maelstrom. Slashing sounds began to cut through the frenzied gibberings, and then the black wave parted and he saw what lay at the heart of the churning area. There was a group of creatures about five feet high, their skin a sickening green, scaled in part, with long black hair and monstrous features. They were moving through the Fomorii with some kind of weapons that Church couldn't quite make out, but he saw the aftermath: disembowellings, severed limbs, hacked heads. A slurry of blood and bone was beginning to mire the green grass. There was something about the creatures' heads that didn't appear right, but it was only when they drew closer that he could see what it was; they wore head-dresses made out of bloody human body parts-torsos, scalps, faces-and the grue from them matted the creatures' hair and bodies.
Church was transfixed by the sheer savagery of their attack. The manner in which they cut a swathe through the Fomorii was almost hypnotic in its brutality.
The spell was broken when someone grabbed his arm. Church whirled, ready to lash out. He caught himself when he saw it was Tom, then roughly pushed him away in disgust.
"They don't control me all the time!" Tom protested.
"I can't believe you!" Church began searching for Veitch and Shavi.
"Then don't! But heed me-don't let the Redcaps see you! They're being controlled to attack the Fomorii, but their natural enemy is man!"
Just as Tom spoke, one of the creatures broke off his dismemberment of a Fomor and stared in Church's direction. A second later it had broken away from the pack and was running towards him, its face contorted with rage.
Church moved at once, sprinting painfully off to one side, but the Redcap followed him unerringly. There were still Fomorii everywhere, though most of them had turned on the attacking Redcaps and were attempting to repel the intruders. He tried to weave among the Fomorii, who were too distracted to pay him any attention, but still the Redcap dogged his heels. And now he could hear the noise it was making-a roar like a big cat that set the hairs on the back of his neck rising.
Then, through the turmoil, he spotted Shavi curiously up high, waving to him frantically. He turned and ran in his direction.
Emerging through a pack of Fomorii, Church saw Shavi standing on the top of Callow's car while the battle raged all about. Veitch was at the rear with the boot open, repeatedly smashing his fist into Callow's face, which had dissolved into a bloody pulp. But it was Witch's expression that concerned him the most: he was lost to the violence and rage. Church barged past him, almost stumbling into the boot, and flicked open the crate. A shimmer of blue fire crackled through the talismans. As Church reached in to grab the sword, he was taken aback to feel it leap into his hand. He whirled round with the sword raised just as the Redcap thundered towards him, roaring like the wind, a strangely shaped, heavily chipped axe raised above its head.
As the axe came down, Church parried the blow, half-expecting his sword to shatter. But it held firm, although the force of the clash jarred every bone in his body. He stumbled backwards against the car, fighting to regain his equilibrium. Then, as the Redcap raised the axe for another blow, Church lashed out madly. The sword hacked into the creature's face like a knife slicing through butter. Greenish blood showered all over him, burning his skin where it landed, and the Redcap slumped to its knees, dead.
Church yanked the sword out with an effort, then turned and caught Witch's arm mid-punch. "Leave him. We've got to get out of here."
Without waiting for an answer, he clambered atop the car alongside Shavi, to get a better view. "Any way out?"
"I cannot see one," Shavi replied.
Oddly, Church found himself unable to focus on the Fomorii fighting the battle. He could see movement, flying blood and limbs, could hear the terrible sounds they were making, but beyond that it was almost as if they had merged into one lake of darkness which was roiling in the grip of a furious storm.
But he could see what remained of the Redcaps hacking a path directly to the car. "They want the talismans too," he said with sudden certainty. And then it came to him. Scanning the vicinity, he soon spotted the unmistakable flurry of movement in a field picked out in silver by the moon's light. Mollecht and a small group of Fomorii waited patiently.
"Whoever wins the talismans, gains the power," he muttered to himself. He turned to Shavi. "Infighting. Suits me fine. Now how-"
He was cut off by a high-pitched, shrieking cry in the nerve-jarring Fomorii dialect. Calatin had spotted them and was trying to divert his troops from the Redcaps to a defence of the talismans. Church felt a gush of icy fear drench him as the entire ranks of Fomorii and Redcaps turned as one
to face him.
Ruth watched the chaos break out from further up the road, but from that distance it was impossible to tell exactly what was happening. She watched anxiously, wishing she were confident enough to make a decision, batting away Laura's increasingly irritated calls for information. But then her attention was caught by the briefest shimmer of blue fire and she picked out Church and Shavi standing on the car roof.
"Hold tight," she said as she spun the van around in the road.
"You can't leave them!" Laura yelled angrily.
"I'm not. I'm ..."-she took a deep breath and slammed the van into reverse-"... ramraiding." Then she popped the clutch and the van shot backwards with such force Laura screamed. "I said hold tight!" Ruth shouted above the roar of the engine.
They thundered into the middle of the Fomorii as if they were crashing into a forest. Every time they hit one, something buckled; the nearside was so badly dented Ruth was sure it was going to cave in. The rear windows shattered, showering Laura with glass, then the doors burst open and the one that had been replaced at Glastonbury was torn off. Ruth kept her foot on the accelerator and her gaze on the wing mirror, although she was shaking from head to toe. Even if they made it to Church, she wondered if the van would be in any condition to get them out.
But then she saw the car's headlamps loom up and she popped the brakes, stopping an inch or so from its bumper. Before she had thrust the gear stick into first, Veitch had launched himself into the back, with the crate under one arm and the spear in the other hand. Church and Shavi dived in after.
The Fomorii were already regrouping. Ruth revved the engine and prepared to drive.
"Wait!" Church called out. She saw him scramble to the back of the van and drag in a bedraggled figure. It was Tom.
"Leave him!" Veitch yelled. "He's a fucking traitor!"
Church bundled the man towards the front of the van, then called for Ruth to go. The van shot forward just as a Fomor punched a hole through the offside. Others were ready to clamber through the open doors. Ruth swung the van from side to side to throw off any that might be clinging on, then ploughed through whatever was in her path. The van was tossed and turned as if it were in an earthquake; she lost the wing mirror; one headlamp exploded; a terrible whine started to come from the engine.
World's End (Age of Misrule, Book 1) Page 48
