by Nick Moseley
'The Celtic weapon is called Caladbolg,' Agatha explained. 'The shortsword is called Tyrfing.'
'They've got names too, eh?' said Trev. He examined Caladbolg closely in the light from the dagger's blade. The weapon was clearly very old, the metal pitted, scarred and worn. However, despite the hilt's age – or more likely, because of it – Trev could feel the power contained within. Even though most if it was dormant, there was still enough to set all his supernatural senses on edge. 'There's some proper juice in this one,' he remarked with approval.
'No doubt,' said Agatha. 'The question is, do you have enough power of your own to awaken it?'
'That sounds like a challenge,' said Trev. 'All right then, let's have a go.'
He narrowed his eyes and concentrated on feeding the energy from his body into the weapon. Straight away he felt the difference between the older, more powerful Caladbolg and Granddad's dagger. His initial efforts were met with no response at all. Whereas powering up the dagger had been quite easy once Trev had got the hang of it, Caladbolg actually seemed to be resisting him.
With a grunt Trev dropped his focus and relaxed again, taking a few deep breaths. Agatha was watching him with a carefully blank expression on her face. Frowning, Trev deepened his concentration and bent himself to his task again. He was so intent on awakening Caladbolg that he forgot to keep some of his energy flowing into the dagger. It sputtered, flickered, and went out.
Agatha noticed immediately. 'Trevor!' she snapped.
Trev jumped, startled out of his trance. The dagger dropped from his hand, clattering to the floor.
'Get it!' Agatha cried, her usual calm manner evaporating. A quick look up told Trev why. Shades were pouring in through the door, no longer held at bay by the vapour weapon's power. They spread out along the walls, floor and ceiling, moving somewhat hesitantly due to Agatha's aura but closing the gap to the altar with worrying speed.
Blind panic seized Trev. He groped for the dagger, his trembling fingers skittering across the handle. The Shades' whispering surrounded him, turning panic into absolute terror. His hand seemed paralysed. The simple act of picking up the weapon had become almost impossible. All he could think was that he was about to die and he could do nothing about it.
He stared dumbly at the Shades as they swarmed toward him. They were everywhere, covering every surface. The interior of the church had become a seething black nightmare.
A light swept across Trev as Agatha moved to interpose herself between him and the Shades. Her aura was brightening as if she was drawing on as much of her power as she could. When she spoke, her voice boomed through the church.
'GET AWAY FROM HIM!' she shouted. Trev could barely see her now, the aura forcing him to squint. Abruptly the Shades' whispering stopped, signalling an attack. Trev cringed back, expecting the end, and then the darkness was split by a sudden explosion of white light.
Twenty-Seven
It was fortunate for Trev that he'd screwed his eyes closed in anticipation of his horrible demise, or he'd have been so badly dazzled by the flash he wouldn't have been able to take advantage of the few seconds' grace it bought for him. There were still a few blotches across his vision when he did open his eyes, but he was able to make out most of what was happening in the dingy church.
The front rank of Shades was gone, destroyed, reduced to a cloud of black shreds which were already fading away. Although their comrades behind had escaped the same fate, they had been driven back down the nave by the burst of energy. They were moving around jerkily, as if stunned.
Trev grabbed hold of the altar and got himself upright. He looked anxiously for Agatha, almost missing her in the semi-darkness. She had dropped out of the air and was lying on the floor of the church, her eyes closed. The aura had gone, and she looked faint, the rows of pews showing through her transparent body.
'Agatha!' shouted Trev. She didn't respond. 'Shit!'
He stumbled towards her. By now the Shades were re-grouping, spreading out along the walls and ceiling again. Trev looked down at the motionless Agatha and gritted his teeth. She'd held the Shades off long enough to give him a chance to get his act together, and he was buggered if he was going to waste it by cowering in the corner and redecorating the inside of his underpants. Summoning his concentration, he drew every last scrap of energy in his body and drove it into Caladbolg with all the force he could muster.
There was a shuddering crack that blew out all the windows and the weapon roared into life. Unlike Granddad's dagger, Caladbolg's blade wasn't merely a phantom of the original but something a damn sight more impressive: a crackling bolt of lightning. It was over three feet long and only vaguely blade-shaped, bathing the interior of the church in a stark white light. Trev experienced the same rush of memories and sensations he'd had when first using the dagger, but found himself able to shove them aside.
The Shades had almost reached Trev, but Caladbolg's appearance brought their advance to a dramatic halt.
'Bastards!' howled Trev, and charged them. They scattered in all directions as the lightning-blade buzzed among them. Unlike the dagger it simply vaporised every Shade it came into contact with, leaving no shreds of blackness behind. Trev moved fluidly down the aisle with a poise and balance that nobody who'd seen him dancing to "Groovy Train" at his father's last birthday party would have believed. He swung the sword effortlessly but with deceptive speed. Shades that seemed to have dodged away from him were snatched out of the air with a snap of the wrist, and others were caught as the blade rebounded from a strike.
Within seconds Trev found himself standing in an empty church. The Shades he hadn't despatched had fled out of the door.
'Bloody hell,' he said quietly.
Ha! Good work, boy! said a voice. Trev spun around, unable to pinpoint where it was coming from. Don't fret, they're all gone, it continued.
Mouth sagging open, Trev swivelled his eyes down to the weapon in his hand.
'A talking sword?' he said, incredulously.
I'm a lot more than just a sword, you cheeky wee bastard, replied Caladbolg. The voice had an unmistakable Celtic twang, though Trev couldn't pin it down to any particular country. At any given time it could've been Irish, Scottish or Welsh. Still, I'm glad you came along. I was beginning to wonder how much longer we were going to be left in this foul place.
'Er, we?' said Trev.
Aye lad, me and Tyrfing. You can't have missed her, she was in the same box as me. Nice lass, but a bit on the feisty side, between the two of us.
'Oh yeah.' At the mention of the box, Trev looked back toward the altar and his gaze fell on the dwindling form of Agatha. 'Oh bollocks,' he said, and ran over to her.
She was even more transparent than before. Trev could see her becoming fainter and fainter as he watched.
Who's she? Not bad to look at. What happened? Shades got to her?
'I don't think so,' said Trev, feeling painfully helpless. 'I think she threw her aura at them or something. There was a big flash of light. It kept the Shades away long enough for me to get you working.'
Ah, sounds like she used up all her power in one burst, said Caladbolg thoughtfully. She's a brave one. Hasn't left herself with enough to hold her form together though, that's why she's fading like that. There was a pause. Aren't you going to help her, lad?
'What? How?'
Well you must have a good thump of power in you or we wouldn't be having this chat. I'm sure you can spare a dram for your friend here, eh?
'Well, yeah, but how do I pass it to her?'
Heavens above, you're a slow one. Touch her, lad, and put a bit of your energy into your hand. She'll soon soak it up.
Trev reached down with his free hand until his fingertips were actually inside Agatha's forehead. Cold stung them. With care he diverted some of the energy from Caladbolg and fed it into the hand. His fingers glowed softly, outlining Agatha's head, but there was no reaction from her.
'Nothing's happening,' Trev said, worried.
Give it time, replied Caladbolg.
Trev did as he was told and kept up the flow of energy, and still the seconds crawled by without any apparent effect. Just when he was about to give up, the glow began to spread from his fingers and travel down into Agatha's body. Soon she was outlined in the pale white light. Trev allowed himself a tight smile as she solidified again, the pews no longer visible through her.
That'll do, lad. Don't burn her out.
Taking Caladbolg's advice, Trev withdrew his hand. The glow faded away, leaving a restored Agatha behind. Her eyes fluttered open and she frowned at Trev.
'You survived, I see,' she remarked, with neither relief nor disappointment. She eyed the lightning-blade in Trev's hand. 'And you've managed to activate Caladbolg. That explains the absence of Shades.'
Aye, they don't like my company much, lass.
'Well, this is one of the few places where it really pays to be unpopular,' observed Agatha, unfazed by the fact that the weapon was talking to her.
Caladbolg chuckled. True enough.
Agatha fixed Trev with an appraising stare. 'Thank you for reviving me. I fear I rather over-stretched myself.'
'No probs,' replied Trev, slightly embarrassed. 'It would've been rude not to. You did save my life, after all.'
'That might be overstating things somewhat,' said Agatha. 'You just needed a shock to help you focus.'
Trev smiled. 'If that's what you want to call it. Seriously though, um, thanks.'
'Not at all.'
Good. Now that's out of the way, how about you fire up old Tyrfing? She'll be champing at the bit by now.
'Why not, eh?' said Trev. He walked around to the back of the altar, collecting and pocketing Granddad's dagger as he went. He stooped and lifted the shortsword hilt from the box. 'Am I going to be able to run both of you at the same time?' he asked Caladbolg.
You've got easily enough power, the sword told him cheerfully. I can feel it, lad. You just need to get control of it.
'Right.' Trev closed his eyes and relaxed, trying to get a better sense of the flow of energy in his body. He was surprised to discover that he had a lot more in reserve than he'd thought. Although it had taken a powerful jolt to bring Caladbolg out of his (its?) dormant state, the weapon wasn't now taxing him all that much. It was like jump-starting a car – a lot of juice to get things going, but after that it more or less took care of itself.
He prepared another such burst, gathering energy from throughout his system and loading it into his arm. After his initial struggles he was finding it increasingly straightforward to manipulate his power, even humming a little tune as he worked.
Impressive, said Caladbolg. You learn quickly. As I told you, control is the key. No use having the raw strength if you can't make it work for you, lad.
'Here goes,' said Trev, and thrust the accumulated energy into Tyrfing.
The shortsword came to life with a subdued whoomp, not unlike the sound of a gas fire being lit. The vapour blade that emerged from the weapon was about two feet long and a deep, impenetrable black. It was also on fire, engulfed in shining black flames that shaded to crimson at their extremities. Despite the ferocity of the flames, they generated no heat.
Trev lifted the blazing sword and swished it a few times. 'Now that is beyond cool,' he said quietly.
About time! snapped Tyrfing. I dislike it when Caladbolg gets to play without me.
The voice was clipped, with more than a hint of Scandinavian about it. Trev thought it was actually quite sexy. He could picture it belonging to a tall, Amazonian blonde, the sort who'd wear knee-high boots all the time and make her boyfriends refer to her as "Mistress".
Caladbolg laughed heartily. It's been a wee bit boring, hasn't it, lassie? I'm sure there are still enough evil things in the world to keep us both busy, though.
Quiet, replied Tyrfing. Although the sword didn't have any eyes, Trev got the feeling that it was assessing him. Who are you? Why have you awakened The Twins?
'Er, my name's Trev Irwin,' said Trev. 'I came here to find you two because I need your help in fighting a demon.'
A demon? said Caladbolg. He sounded excited.
Tyrfing seemed less enthused. You have power, but you are not a warrior, she said to Trev, with what he thought was an unnecessarily heavy amount of disdain.
'No, I'm an estate agent,' he replied. It was a pretty useless comeback.
What is that?
'People pay me money to sell their houses to other people.'
I doubt this work prepares you for combat, said Tyrfing.
Trev pursed his lips. 'You'd be surprised.'
So, you are not a warrior yourself, but perhaps at least you are descended from a line of noble fighters?
'That depends if you have a loose definition of the word "warrior",' said Trev. He thought of his father. 'And a really loose definition of the word "noble".'
Disappointing, was all Tyrfing said in response.
'Yep, that's my middle name,' said Trev, getting irritated. 'Look, I've got enough power to activate the pair of you, which I'm told hasn't been done in over a century. So maybe you shouldn't write me off as a dead loss just yet.'
Ach, don't take it to heart, lad, said Caladbolg. She's always been a fussy one. Doesn't think that anyone's good enough to wield her.
I do not like to engage in battles I cannot win, said Tyrfing. A seller of houses has little chance against a demon. It would be a difficult fight for even a warrior of experience.
After saying nothing for some time, Agatha finally spoke up. 'This debate can be concluded later. We should leave while the Shades are still in disarray.'
Greetings, spirit, said Tyrfing, apparently noticing Agatha for the first time. You are this Trev Irwin's guide?
'You might say that.'
Good. He says he wishes to fight with a demon. Is this truth?
'I'm afraid so, yes. An innocent man will die if we don't intervene.'
Honourable. But very dangerous, also.
Give the lad a chance, lass, said Caladbolg. True enough he's not a fighter by trade, but he's got power and he's got us, hasn't he?
'That's right,' agreed Trev. He hadn't been very keen on the idea of taking on the demon mano a mano, but he was getting pissed off with being belittled. 'I don't need to be a fighter, do I? I can get all the necessary skills from you two.'
To prove the point he executed a flowing sequence of thrusts, parries and dodges using both weapons in tandem. The two swords worked perfectly as a pair, and Trev could understand why they were known as The Twins. If the dagger had made him feel like a proper hard-case, The Twins made him feel almost invulnerable. He couldn't imagine any opponent being able to break through his defences while he was wielding them.
More than enough for most opponents, agreed, said Tyrfing. It is sad that a demon is not most opponents.
'Yeah, well cheers for building up my confidence,' grumbled Trev. 'Anyway, let's get out of here.'
'Not before time,' said Agatha, rolling her eyes.
Before we go, there's a belt in the bottom of that box, lad. Might make carrying us around a bit easier.
Trev put Tyrfing down, shutting the weapon off, and pulled back the velvet lining of the box. Underneath was a thick leather belt fitted with a pair of slotted holsters. Trev buckled it around his waist before retrieving Tyrfing.
'OK, let's get back to the Ransom Bridge,' he said, heading for the door.
When he stepped out of the church he was struck by the total stillness outside. There were no Shades to be seen circling the square or patrolling the street.
'Looks like we did a good job of scaring them off,' said Trev, taking up a defensive posture while he scanned his surroundings.
Aye, agreed Caladbolg. Wretched things. They prey on the weak. Give them a sterner test, lad, and they flee.
They had reached Bandstand Park before they saw any of the shadow-creatures. There were a few of them lurking in the trees, but they bolted long before Trev and hi
s vapour weapons were anywhere near them, allowing an unimpeded short-cut through the centre of the park. It was difficult to remember why he'd been so scared on his way to St. Margaret's, such was the confidence he took from carrying The Twins. He didn't think of the Shades as a threat any more. They were almost pitiable.
Trev's confident stride took him out of the town and back along Boundary Road in pleasingly short order. Little conversation passed between Trev and Agatha. Trev had to admit to himself that there had been a major shift in his opinion of her. It was difficult to think too negatively about someone who'd been willing to sacrifice herself on his behalf, even if she was a pain in the arse most of the time.
He wondered if his act of ghostly CPR had changed Agatha's perception of him. He glanced at her but it was impossible to tell what was going on behind her wall of Victorian reserve. Shrugging mentally, he shelved the thoughts. He'd probably find out before much longer anyway.
They turned off the road and down the riverbank to the Ransom Bridge. Trev quickly deactivated The Twins and settled them in their holsters.
'Here we go again then,' he said. He puffed out his cheeks before reaching into the shadows with a glowing hand. He found the break between realities, pulled it open, and was gone.
Twenty-Eight
The journey back through the void was no more enjoyable than the outward trip had been, but Trev was at least spared the initial shock of the experience. Remembering his undignified belly flop onto the grass on arriving in Dark Limbo, he tried to orient himself so that his feet would be under him when he emerged into the real world.
He got into a semi-crouching position as the white light rushed toward him, ready to absorb the impact of landing with his legs. His plan would probably have worked admirably were it not for the minor snag of him exiting the void upside-down.
Legs pistoning, he landed heavily on his back on the path, sliding to a halt at a startled Granddad's feet.
'Miss me?' Trev said weakly.
'Good lord, Trevor, you know how to make an entrance,' said Granddad, helping his grandson to his feet and dusting him down. He caught sight of The Twins nestling in their holsters and his eyes widened. 'You got them!'
