by Simon Kewin
Cait was about to lift the green stone to her eye when she caught a blur of white ghosting between tree-trunks. She pushed out with her mind, feeling the lurching sensation of flying from her own body.
She saw the white shape again, more clearly this time. A bird, gliding from branch to branch a little way ahead of them. It moved in complete silence as it swooped through the trees. She knew she wasn't seeing it with her eyes. It was too far off.
“An owl?”
“Very good,” said her mum. “A Barn Owl. She is kindly showing us the way to a grove where we can stop and talk.”
“I told you,” said her gran to her mum, but loud enough for Cait to hear. “She's going to be another like you. She's had no guidance from anyone but look what she's capable of. That spell outside the factory. And then again when she opened the pathway. In the end there, we couldn't have done it without her. She's only come into her magic for a few days and look at her.”
Cait said nothing. But that wasn't right. Part of it, a large part of it, was down to the witch-girl within her. At some point she would tell them. But for now she preferred to keep that to herself. She had so much to make sense of that she couldn't face their questions. Not yet.
“A grove like the one gran was in? That roundabout back home?”
“Yes,” said her mum. “Wild creatures often live close to them. Owls, especially. Perhaps that's why people think they're so wise.”
“So is she? Are you talking to her?”
“No, nothing like that. She knows these woods, knows each tree like you know the streets back home. I'm just … giving her the feel of the place where we want to go and she's flying there. She thinks we're her chicks, perhaps.”
“How long 'till we get there?”
“Don't know, love. Owls aren't very good at telling the time.”
In the end it was only another half hour or so. They walked through deep forest, the trees' outstretched branches touching each other, growing through each other, as though linking arms. There had been no path for some time. Instead, they picked their way between mountainous brambles, their distant peaks unreachable.
Occasionally they plucked blackberries the size of Cait's thumb from the bushes. Fer, especially, seemed to relish these and Cait gave half of hers to the other girl. The berries stained her skin an inky purple, peppering her fingers with tiny thorns. She stretched as high as she could, but there were always larger and juicier berries out of reach.
The grove, when they came to it, was shielded by a rampart of the bushes. There was a clear gap in the leaf-canopy, the afternoon sun shining through, but there was no path.
Cait was about to suggest walking around to find a way in when Johnny said, “Follow me! I reckon we can get through here.” He slid sideways between bushes, clearly enjoying himself, suddenly a boy again.
They stepped after him in single-file, contorting their bodies through the thicket to avoid being snagged. Even so, they were all scratched again and again. Vicious spikes armoured the bramble stalks. Danny swore under his breath as another raked his arm. Was there really a grove here? Perhaps they were simply hacking their way into the largest blackberry bush in England.
Johnny shouted from ahead. “We're there! I see the clearing!”
One by one, they staggered into it, bleeding from tiny cuts, hair wild as if they'd hiked for a day through the jungle. The blackberry bush was vast, surrounding the grove. The tops of it touched the lowest branches of the trees. It encircled them like a green wall.
“We'll rest for an hour or two,” said her mum. “Then it will be time to talk. Time to decide what to do.”
No one else spoke. Were they safe here? She was too weary to worry for the moment. They collapsed on the ground. Except Ran, who walked around the edge of the clearing, peering warily into the brush.
Cait watched him circle two, three, four times before her eyes closed and she fell into a fitful sleep. Confused dreams came to her for a time, startling her awake again and again. She imagined hearing a murmur of voices from the trees, and then, indistinctly, she glimpsed the figure of a naked man with a full set of antlers upon his head. Only they weren’t any sort of hat; they were growing from his skull. He was badly injured, blood running freely from a wound in his side. He beckoned to Cait, calling her into the shadows, mouthing words she couldn’t hear.
She woke up with a start. There was no one there. Of course. Her exhausted mind was seeing phantoms. She slipped back into sleep, and this time there were no horned men to trouble her slumbers.
23. A Parliament of Owls
“So, what's to be done?” asked her gran.
They sat in a circle, the last of the sandwiches laid out on plastic bags. Cait rested between Fer and Danny. Next to Danny lay Johnny, apparently still asleep. Then came her mum, her gran and Ran. The dragonrider had continued patrolling, but her mum had made him join them, assuring him she'd know if anyone came near.
“I've been thinking,” said Danny. “Maybe we could try and get back into the refinery and destroy the pipeline. You know, stop any more Spirit being sent through. That would cripple them in a single blow. We could use magic. Or maybe just, I don't know, blow it up. I mean, do we know if Spirit is explosive? Does it burn?”
“I don't think we'd get back in there,” said her gran.
“It wouldn't work anyway,” said her mum. “Even if we could damage the pipeline, or the whole refinery, we couldn't hope to keep it out of action for long. They'd get it working again, put it all back together.”
“Yeah, I suppose,” said Danny.
“And who knows if people would get hurt?” added Cait. “Not just us, I mean them, too. Those who work there. You know, ordinary people.”
“True,” said her mum.
“Why did they test me, though?” Cait asked. “Nox said I was of the blood. What does that mean?”
“Another thing we can thank the necromancer for. He used his own blood in the ascension ritual he performed on Menhroth.”
“But Ilminion died ages ago,” said Cait. “What have I got to do with that?” Even as she asked the question the answer struck her.
“Yes, love,” said her mother. “I'm afraid so. There's no doubt about it. You, me, and your gran: we're all descended from him. We all carry that blood. He must have had children.”
“But our family's from Chorley, not Andar!” said Cait.
“On your grandfather's side, we are. But your great great great great grandmother crossed through the Manchester portal from Andar in 1819.”
“Why?”
“That's another story. A long story.”
“And Fer? She looks so much like me. We're related aren't we?”
“We are,” said her mum. “She's from the side of the family that stayed in Andar. But hers is the blood, too. A distant cousin, no doubt about it.”
“So that's why the monster in the library wouldn't attack me.”
“That's right.”
“But it struck you, gran. It sent you flying. Why?”
“I don't think it recognized me,” said her gran. “I'm not as strong as you.”
“And that man outside the library,” continued Cait. “The beggar. He knew didn't he?”
“Yes,” said her gran. “Tom has a few threads of the craft. He had a moment of clarity and recognized you. It must have been quite a shock.”
Cait gazed up to the branches of the trees surrounding them. It was a grim thought that she was descended from this necromancer. That she was tainted with his legacy. Could she be trusted with magic?
“There is something else we could do,” she said, still not looking at anyone. “We should consider it at least.”
“What's that, love?” said her gran quietly.
She hadn't really thought about what she was about to say, the idea only coming to her as she spoke. “They need the book and they need our blood, yes? They have the book now. But we could at least stop them getting the blood.”
“What are you sa
ying?” asked her mum.
“The four of us are too dangerous. If we were … no longer around then the book would be useless.”
“Cait, no! I'll hear no more of that talk,” said her gran. She'd never heard her gran sound shocked before. Nothing ever fazed her gran.
“Oh, Cait,” said her mum, gently, reaching across the circle to place a hand on Cait's arm, “Nothing good could come from that. Put it out of your mind. We're not going to give in and we're certainly not going to do their work for them.”
“Besides,” said Johnny, sitting up, “There must be others of the blood. Here and in Andar. You'd be endangering them.”
“I suppose,” said Cait.
“And the way I understand it,” continued Johnny, “they won't go away if they can't get your blood. Ritual of the Seven Whatevers or not, when the winter comes in Andar they'll still cross, yeah? It'll take them longer maybe. Years of war and horror rather than days. But sooner or later they'll get us. Our only hope is somehow, dunno how, stop them.”
Danny put an arm around her shoulders. “Plus, I wouldn't let you anyway.”
“Well,” said Cait. “That's good. Thank you. But that means I don't know what we should do either.”
“I'll switch on the archaeon,” said Johnny, taking out his mobile and pressing buttons. “Maybe it's got some bright ideas.”
“Is there a signal here?” asked Danny.
“Let's see. It didn't work when we walked through that valley but we're quite high now.”
“Well, it seems to me,” said her gran, “that this news about the Spirit pipeline is important. I think we should tell Hellen. One way or another it could be vital.”
“Why?” asked Danny.
“It shows that Angere has a weakness,” said her gran. “From what Cait's said they're dependent on vast amounts of human Spirit being piped through. Quite why, I don't know. Perhaps they're addicted.”
“So you do think we should try and blow up the pipeline?” asked Danny.
“No. But maybe Hellen can use the information. If this is Angere's only supply of Spirit, it makes them vulnerable.”
“I don't see what Hellen can do, sitting on the other bank of the An, waiting to be invaded,” said Cait.
“Well, neither do I,” replied her gran. “But she might.”
“I don't know, are we sure this whole Spirit thing is real?” asked Cait. “It seems incredible. Is it even possible? I mean, people have always behaved badly. They've been cruel all through history, fighting wars and that, way before Genera started those machines.”
“Oh, it is completely real,” said the archaeon from Johnny's mobile, its voice clipped and distorted because of the weak signal. “They've kept it well hidden, of course, but the facts are there if you know how to find them. The science behind Spiritual Refraction. Micro-collectors in electronic devices including, you might like to know, the one I'm speaking from. The global network of extractors and pipelines, all leading to that refinery. No doubt about it.”
“OK,” said Cait. “So we need to tell Andar. Can't we just, you know, reach out like in the library?”
“The aether is disturbed at the moment,” said her mum. “I've tried to find Hellen several times and been unable to.”
“You mean, you normally do talk to her?” asked Cait. Her mum seemed to have no end of surprises. Which was wonderful, but it also meant more had been concealed from her.
“Off and on, over the years, yes.”
“The only sure way to give her the message is for someone to take it,” said her gran.
“From what Johnny said, the portal in the library is sealed now,” said Danny.
“True. So we'll have to find another way,” said her mum.
“There are no other portals into Andar,” said Cait. “That's kept them safe all this time.”
“But there is a half portal. The one at Glastonbury,” said her mum. “What do you think, Johnny? If we could find your guitar and get you to the Tor, could you do it again? Get back into Andar?”
“Dunno. Maybe.”
“But you'd go back if you could? You said something about a boat?”
“Well, yeah, before I got sidetracked, I was travelling. Down the An. Me and Smoke on the Water.”
“And you'd like to resume that journey.” It was a statement, not a question.
“Yeah,” said Johnny. “One day. Ideally I'd like to be sure massed ranks of zombies aren't pursuing me first, mind.”
“So will you try?”
“I guess so,” said Johnny. “But I will need Mr. Shankly. I couldn't do it with any old guitar.” He looked at Cait and Danny. “Do we even know what happened to it?”
“It was auctioned off as part of the Live 8 thing,” said Cait. “Went for quite a bit. Don't recall who bought it.”
“Well,” said Johnny, “at least there's a chance they'll look after it, whoever they are.” He laughed. “I wonder what the legal situation is if I turn up and ask for it?”
“Here,” said Danny, holding out a small, black plastic triangle he'd fished from the pocket of his jeans. “This is a start. It's one of yours. You threw it out into the audience at the end of a gig at the G-Mex. I caught it.”
Johnny grinned and took the guitar pick. “Thanks.” He turned to face her mum. “OK, count me in. Find the guitar, get to Glastonbury, play my way back into Andar. It's a crazy plan but I'll give it a go.”
“Excellent,” said her mum. “But I don't think you should go alone. Genera will be chasing you and it'll be dangerous.
“Oh, no doubt,” said Johnny, lying back again.
“Noble archaeon,” said her mum, raising her voice, her tone only slightly mocking, “May we still call on your services in our quest for Johnny's guitar?”
“I suppose I could manage that,” the wyrm replied. “Since I am able to divide my consciousness between multiple avatars I can spare you some time. And you do venture to interesting places.”
“Thank you. And I think two others should go with you, Johnny.”
“Which two?” asked Cait.
“Fer and your gran. Fer because I don't think she's up to coming with the rest of us right now. And your gran because she'll be able to look after everyone.”
“And I still think I should go with Cait and you should go with Johnny,” said her gran. This was clearly the latest round of a long-running debate.
“But where are the rest of us going?” asked Cait.
“Well,” said her mum, “I plan to cross into Angere and retrieve both parts of the book.”
“What?” said Cait and Danny simultaneously.
“And I think it should be me that goes, not you,” said her gran. “Jane taught me a lot about both Andar and Angere. I'll have more chance there than you.”
“I'm younger and stronger,” said her mum. “It's a simple fact. Johnny will need your help and I should go to Angere.”
“And if I put my foot down and tell you I'm going and you're not?”
Her mum smiled fondly at her gran. “Then I'll disobey you.”
Her gran sniffed. “You always were a wilful child.”
“And the rest of us?” asked Cait. It seemed her mum and her gran had worked everything out already. Dire as their situation was she still felt annoyed.
Her mum turned to Ran and spoke in the Andar language Cait had heard previously. She watched as Ran paused for a moment. She wondered if he was going to refuse. But then he nodded his head in assent. He would go to Angere, too.
“Your accent was very poor,” said her gran. “If you'd heard it spoken as much as I have you'd never have pronounced inlaind like that.”
“I'll get by. And besides, you won't be able to find a cup of tea anywhere in Angere.”
Her gran made a hmphing noise, clearly not convinced.
Her mum turned to look at Cait. “And as for you, my love …”
“Yes? And where have you decided I should go?” asked Cait.
Her mum sighed. “I thin
k you should come to Angere with me. I would do anything for you not to have to. And of course it's up to you. But it seems to me this is where everything is leading. It can't be coincidence that you've come into your magic these past few days. I think you have a role to play. If I thought it were safe here I'd never let you go, but it's not. For any of us. Unless we can beat them. And that is another reason why I will go. To protect you.”
“But what chance will we have?” asked Cait. “From what I've heard we won't survive long in Angere. And even if, somehow, we did manage to find the two halves of the book, what would we do then? How would we be able to get to Andar and safety? I mean, you can't. That's the whole point. The river is in the way.”
“I don't know,” said her mum. “I don't know the answer to any of those questions. But what else can we do? Maybe it's hopeless, but the alternative is not to try. To lie down and die. Sometimes all you can do is have a go, do your best. We'll probably fail, but at least we tried, yes? And, who knows, perhaps we'll find a way.”
“And if you do escape, I reckon you'll at least be sorting Nox out,” said Danny.
“How so?” asked Cait.
“You said yourself the Witch King is coming through the portal today. He must know the descendent of the necromancer guy has finally been caught. When he finds out you've escaped and can't be found in this world, he's gonna be seriously unhappy. He'll probably assume you've gone to Andar. Nox will be in major trouble.”
Danny was right. By evading Genera they'd be condemning Nox to some terrible retribution at the hands of the undain. That, alone, made leaving worthwhile. Maybe they couldn't save Andar but at least they could put an end to Nox.
“If I agree, you'll stop treating me like a child?” Cait said to her mum. “You'll tell me the full truth about all this?”
“I will,” said her mum. “So far as I know it, love. I promise.”
Cait glanced at Danny, then back to her mum. “OK. I'll go. But I don't think I'll be much use. Look what a mess I made of destroying the book.”
“Actually, little witch,” said the archaeon, “You managed to do the one thing that gave you some chance of surviving. Unintentionally, I'm sure.”
