by G. P. Taylor
‘It is not that simple,’ said Pyratheon. ‘You can kill him if you want. He is expendable. There are so many greedy fools, one less won’t make a difference to me. In one minute the world will change beyond my wildest dreams.’
The first bell struck. Pyratheon lifted the Keruvim above his head and closed his eyes. Kate struggled against the hold that Demurral had around her neck.
The second and then the third bell rang out. Crane’s men held back the Varrigal who fell silent, waiting expectantly for a divine moment in time.
Four, five, six bells reverberated through the church and across the roofs of the houses below. Pyratheon began to whisper, his lips moved slowly. Crane lowered the pistol as he watched. Kate broke free and ran to Raphah.
The church began to shudder as the Keruvim pulsed out a blinding light. The night sky faded to day; the sun rose then set and rose again. The tides washed in and out of the harbour rising and falling with each moon. It was as if the whole earth was spinning faster and faster through space. With each beat of the bell it was another day, another dawn, another night. Seven, eight, nine, ten, eleven times. On the final clang, as the hammer struck the bell the church fell silent. All that could be heard were the screams of panic coming from the streets below. All light had gone from the world. The sun, moon, and stars had vanished from the sky and an icy coldness hovered over the surface of the deep waters.
‘It is finished,’ Pyratheon said triumphantly. ‘I am, I AM.’ He laughed. ‘Riathamus is dead.’
He threw the Keruvim to the floor. It spun across the stone and landed at Raphah’s feet.
‘Then it won’t matter if I kill your servant,’ Crane shouted as he pulled the trigger of the pistol. The hammer fell. There was a muffled thud as the ball rolled slowly from the barrel and dropped to the floor.
‘Everything has changed, Eternal Law is now mine to dictate. The Battle of the Skull has been overthrown; the victory on the tree is over.’
There was complete silence in the universe. Pyratheon looked around not knowing what to do next. He had waited so long for this moment and now felt a deep sadness that it was all over. He was overwhelmed with sudden and unexpected feeling of grief at the loss of Riathamus.
The moment was broken by the sobbing of Kate as she held on to the lifeless body of her friend.
‘It’s not over. Listen to me. It’s not over,’ she said time and time again as she pressed his hand close to her body.
‘The crying of a child. How touching that the first thing I should hear in my new world is the crying of a child,’ Pyratheon said as her sobbing echoed around the church.
Kate’s tears dripped on to the Keruvim. She lifted it up and placed it into Raphah’s hands.
‘You kept this all your life, now keep it in death,’ she said.
Without warning, the small door that led out of the chancel and into the churchyard was effortlessly sliced in two and the Sword of Mayence appeared. Abram pushed aside the fragments of the door and stepped into the sanctuary.
‘Raphael!’ said the surprised Pyratheon. ‘You are …’
‘Still alive. The Glashan kept me longer than I expected. Your meddling has gone too far this time, Seirizzim. Riathamus will not be pleased.’
‘Riathamus is dead; he is gone, the bright morning star has flickered and shimmered its last on this world. So go down on your knee,’ Pyratheon demanded.
‘You fool yourself. This was not the place or the time for the last destruction. You have meddled with time. Come to the cliff and see what is happening to your world,’ Abram said as he looked down at the body of Raphah. He then spoke to him as if he were alive. ‘I have a gift. To you from the master. He knew of this time.’
Abram knelt and breathed on Raphah. ‘Receive that which hovers over the waters,’ he said as he placed his thumb into the middle of Raphah’s forehead.
Kate wept even more as she saw the life and warmth flood back into his cold body. Raphah looked up.
‘You bring me back just when I stood before the King. I thought my work was done,’ he said.
‘The King is dead. Is none of you listening to me? Dead. Finished,’ Pyratheon shouted again and again.
Abram lifted the Sword of Mayence and pointed it at Pyratheon’s throat.
‘Go to the cliff and see your world,’ he said.
One by one, they left the church. Raphah held the Keruvim tight as he walked through the gravestones, helped by Kate. Thomas walked on behind with Demurral, Crane and Pyratheon. It was darkness so thick that it was like black water pressing against them.
They fumbled and groped blindly from gravestone to gravestone to where they could hear the voice of Abram calling them to draw closer. Demurral crawled like an old dog being led on by the voice of his master.
Not a single star shone. The bright cloud had vanished and the moon was no more. In the gloom they could hear the frightened screams of the people far below. Darkness covered the land.
Abram stood on the cliff edge. He was radiant and the only source of light that they could see. His clothes shone like gold almost too blinding to look upon.
‘See,’ said Pyratheon, ‘it is just as I said. The light of the world has gone for ever. Let no one believe he is still alive.’
‘You deceive yourself and the truth is not in you, Seirizzim. Look, follow the light of my hand.’
In the distance a small speck of light began to appear. First it was like a pinhole in the blackness, a point of pure white light. Slowly, it began to grow as the whole horizon began to expand with the growing radiance of the rising sun.
‘See, Seirizzim, you just played with time. The Keruvim was never yours; while Raphah was dead it had no real power. You needed them both but your own anger deceived you, your lust for death engulfed you. A light shines in the darkness and the darkness will never overcome it. See he is coming, the bright morning star shines upon the earth and your days are numbered.’
Abram lifted the sword above his head to strike at Pyratheon but he was gone. So too were the Varrigal, so was Demurral. As all had stared at the rising sun they had slipped away under the cover of darkness.
‘You need say no more, all is new,’ the Archangel said. ‘Take these people from this land. Go quickly, for Pyratheon will try again and the Keruvim must be returned. Go now.’
With that Abram was transformed before their eyes. His clothes burnt with the brightness of heaven, his hair was polished gold. A single ray of the sun touched his forehead and in that moment he was gone.
*
The Magenta broke free of the harbour and glided into open water. There was a fresh breeze and a clear sky. On the deck of the ship the three stood looking back to the cliffs, the ruined abbey and the church high above them. Crane stood behind them and smiled. He knew not what lay ahead, but in his heart he was a changed man.
In the distance the sea began to slowly bubble and boil, a curtain of thick brown fog rolled in from the horizon. Beneath the cry of the seagulls could faintly be heard the singing of the Seloth …
Further praise for Shadowmancer:
‘The new C S Lewis.’ BBC Heaven and Earth Show
‘Shadowmancer is flying off the bookshelves as if a wizard had incanted a charm on it.’ Herald
‘A magical tale of vicars and witches.’ Daily Telegraph
‘A compelling and dark-edged fantasy … highly recommended.’ Independent
Praise for Wormwood:
‘An extraordinary achievement told by a master storyteller. The book is, quite simply, marvellous.’ Guardian
Praise for Tersias:
‘It is, in a word, brilliant. Colourful, dramatic, relentless, accessible to children-and more frightening for their parents.’ Scotsman
‘The plot hurtles along carrying the reader from one cliffhanger to the next.’ Daily Telegraph
About the Author
G. P. Taylor lives in the shadows of a medieval castle and the rugged North Yorkshire Moors overlooking the cold Oceanus G
ermanicus. He has spent most of his life in search of the eternal truths and finally believes he has found the reason why he inhabits a tiny space on this planet. In his spare time he enjoys looking at the stars and eating at The Ivy. G. P. Taylor can be emailed at [email protected].
By the Same Author
Wormwood
Tersias
Copyright
First published in 2003
by Faber and Faber Ltd
Bloomsbury House
74–77 Great Russell Street
London WC1B 3DA
This ebook edition first published in 2010
All rights reserved
© G. P. Taylor, 2003
The right of G. P. Taylor to be identified as author of this work has been asserted in accordance with Section 77 of the Copyright, Designs and Patents Act 1988
This ebook is copyright material and must not be copied, reproduced, transferred, distributed, leased, licensed or publicly performed or used in any way except as specifically permitted in writing by the publishers, as allowed under the terms and conditions under which it was purchased or as strictly permitted by applicable copyright law. Any unauthorised distribution or use of this text may be a direct infringement of the author’s and publisher’s rights, and those responsible may be liable in law accordingly
ISBN 978–0–571–27115–3
