A Quantum Mythology (30 page)

‘Your axe has been blessed with the blood of the gods,’ Bladud said. It was not a question. Kush did not reply. ‘Tell me, Kush, have you ever heard of the Brass City?’

The Numibian did everything he could to try and mask his reaction, but Tangwen could tell he knew the name. Germelqart was fixedly staring down, avoiding looking at either Bladud or Kush.

‘Even in this land you would do well not to speak those words again,’ Kush said. Tangwen did not think he meant it as a threat. She thought he was frightened.

‘The blood of the gods flows in some of our veins,’ Bladud said. ‘It is weakened, yes, but it drives us to do great things.’

‘In this you will die,’ Kush assured him.

‘My Father …’ Tangwen began. This time Bladud looked to her with interest. ‘He sang the mindsong to me in my sleep. He said that even the blood magics would not be enough to fight them.’

Kush was staring at her, his expression unreadable.

Bladud’s expression became grim. ‘In my youth I searched out every wonder I could—’

‘I think you searched too far,’ Kush muttered.

‘Perhaps, but if any would know, it would be Tangwen’s father. What did he counsel on this matter?’

‘To flee to Gaul, or further,’ Tangwen said. ‘That Ynys Prydain is lost.’

‘Bitter news indeed,’ he said, looking down. ‘But I have to see this, judge for myself. I have to know what we are facing.’

‘Nothing will be served by all these warriors dying here,’ Tangwen said.

‘Agreed. Did your father offer no hope at all?’ Bladud asked. Tangwen opened her mouth to say no, but hesitated. ‘Tell me,’ he said quietly.

‘There are magics strong enough to fight the spawn.’

‘Where?’

‘The Lochlannach. The raiders in the black
curraghs
.’

Bladud thought on her words. ‘We have no choice. We must have their power,’ the Witch King said.

‘You do not know what you are saying,’ Kush said harshly. ‘Those they do not kill become nothing more than steeds to be ridden by demons.’

Bladud reached down and tore a handful of earth from the ground. ‘Then what?’ he asked the Numibian quietly. He held the handful of dirt out to him. ‘Let them defile and murder our Mother? Then what are we?’

‘If it was a matter of simple death I would say go with your gods, but you will accomplish the opposite of what you intend,’ Kush told the Witch King.

‘Such is the folly of most people.’

Kush shook his head but smiled.

‘Can our people pass?’ Tangwen asked.

‘Will you let me speak with them first?’ Bladud asked.

The three pyres illuminated the dark wood with a hot, flickering, orange light. Bladud stood in front of the central pyre, its light throwing him into shadow. It was Essyllt’s pyre.

Tangwen had watched him as he spoke to Essyllt, and to the other two survivors showing signs of the sickness. He spoke to them in low tones, frank and earnest. The voice of persuasion. Tangwen had watched tears roll down their cheeks, but it was to their and Bladud’s credit that they had not broken down. The same could not be said for the two Brigante who had carried Essyllt’s litter. Tangwen had finally learned their names: Duach and Sel. Both had been landsmen and were, in fact, subjects of the Witch King. Duach stood watching the pyre, sobbing openly and loudly. Sel was on his knees, head buried in his hands, also weeping. Bladud had talked the sick into allowing themselves to be sacrificed. He had lit the flames himself and given them to Nodens, who was the sun and the moon. In return he asked for wisdom and protection from sickness. This drew cries of anger from the warriors gathered around the pyres. They wanted the sacrifices to be given to the Red God, blood-stained Cocidius.

Tangwen watched Nerthach help Sel to his feet. ‘This is not right. You must be as strong as they were,’ he told his fellow Brigante, not unkindly.

Tangwen felt a hand on her shoulder. ‘It was their decision,’ Kush told her quietly. She nodded. She hadn’t even realised she was crying. Anharad, Twrch and the silent Mabon had come to stand with them, watching the flames. All the survivors had been treated well and given food. Bladud had even gone so far as to find armour, a hatchet, and bow and arrows for Tangwen. They were gifts of great generosity, worthy of a great king. He had offered her a knife, but she decided to keep the one she carried with her on the Isle of Madness. She had worked hard to scour the rust from the blade and hone the edge on whetstone. Nerthach had even managed to find a suit of boiled leather armour that fitted Kush’s, tall, deceptively thin frame. The bear-skull-wearing warrior appeared to like the Numibian, though Tangwen suspected Nerthach was just hoping to keep Kush alive long enough so the pair of them could fight.

Bladud held up his hands and called for quiet. ‘We go north,’ he said simply. There were cries of outrage from the assembled warriors. Bladud lowered his hands and let them get it out of their system.

‘Why?’ demanded a large warrior with an impressive moustache but no beard.

‘Because they will be on us this night. Tell me what happens when this many horse fight in woods in the dark.’

‘It’s never been done before,’ the warrior answered. Tangwen rolled her eyes.

‘Pretend you’re not a lackwit,’ Nerthach suggested. The moustachioed warrior bristled.

‘This is taking too long,’ Kush muttered. Tangwen had been thinking the same thing. The spawn of Andraste were not that far behind them.

‘There would be chaos. We would be about our enemy’s business,’ Bladud told the assembled warriors.

‘So we run like cowards!’ another warrior demanded.

‘Mind your tongue,’ Nerthach told him.

‘Do all Pretani warriors think with their cocks?’ Kush asked Tangwen.

‘Only the male ones,’ she muttered.

‘Know that if you fight, you fight against the wisdom of the gods, and against my advice,’ Bladud told them.

‘You brought us here!’ Another warrior, this one a heavy-set woman covered with scars and missing lumps of hair and scalp.

‘Things are not as I believed,’ Bladud replied. ‘We will have our war, but it will not be this night. Stay if you will, but if you wish victory then we head north. Those of you who do decide to stay, I have a use for you, but know that every last one of you will die – or worse.’

Tangwen recognised the voice. She had heard
dryw
use it before. It was the voice of absolute truth. When something was so important that all had to believe it without question.

There was muttering among the warriors. Tangwen was trying to look beyond the pyres, cursing the flames for ruining her night-sight, expecting the forest to come to life at any moment. She tensed when she saw movement and felt Kush do the same. She was reaching for her knife and hatchet when the figures walked through the flames.

All of them wore lightweight leather armour that provided a degree of protection, but more importantly allowed them to move quickly and freely. All of them carried light, short weapons – hand axes, short swords, daggers, cudgels – and each of them had a bow. All of them wore wicker masks and the furs of the lynx, like the scout they had seen earlier in the day. And all of them were female.

One of them, the first to appear between the flames, went to speak to Bladud. He leaned down and they conversed in whispers. It was clear that the presence of the lynx-headed scouts made a lot of the warriors nervous.

‘Who are they?’ Kush whispered. Tangwen shook her head. She had never heard of them before.

‘We have little time,’ Bladud said, straightening up. ‘Those of you who are truly prepared to die, step forward. The rest of you, go now!’

Tangwen watched as a number of the older warriors stepped forwards. Nobody tried to talk them out of it, but there were tears in the eyes of some of their comrades as they said their goodbyes, grasped arms and hugged. The older warriors gathered around Bladud. Tangwen moved to join them, but Kush grabbed her.

‘What are you doing?’

‘Take Germelqart and the others, follow this warband north. I will not be far behind you.’

‘This is madness!’ Kush hissed.

Tangwen turned to look up at the tall, dark-skinned warrior. ‘I will not sell my life freely, but please, I am a hunter. They will not even see me, and I will catch up with you soon. I promise.’

Kush looked decidedly unconvinced and opened his mouth as if he was about to argue further, but Tangwen reached up and squeezed his arm.

‘All on this island are mad,’ he said, before turning away and stalking back up the hill.

Tangwen moved over to Bladud. He had just finished explaining his plan to the greybeard warriors. Most had grim expressions on their faces. One or two were smiling.

‘Why does this one carry my old bow?’ demanded the tall, powerfully built woman with the lynx mask. Braided long brown hair ran down from beneath her mask. In the flames her eyes looked quite dark.

‘Ah,’ Bladud said. ‘I was going to speak to you about that. This is Tangwen of the Pobl Neidr – she escaped from the wicker man. She has need of the bow, and I will compensate you for it.’

‘Pobl Neidr? Catuvellauni weaklings. That’s why they were in the wicker man.’

Tangwen didn’t think she was going to get on with the other woman.

‘Tangwen, may I introduce Sadhbh of the Iceni.’

‘You will be hiding while these others die, then?’ Tangwen asked. She knew of the Iceni. They were a warlike tribe from the lands to the north of the Trinovantes, who in turn bordered Tangwen’s people’s lands. Tangwen suspected that had the Iceni been less warlike, the Trinovantes would have troubled her people more. As it was they spent a lot of time and resources defending their northern borders from the aggressive Iceni.

The other woman bristled. ‘We will be watching—’ she snapped.

‘And reporting back to me,’ Bladud said. ‘I have more than enough swinging cocks and prideful warriors. Do not let these warriors’ sacrifices mean nothing. We need information.’

‘I’m going as well,’ Tangwen told them. Sadhbh opened her mouth but Tangwen got there first: ‘Keep your people out of my way.’

Bladud started to say something, but Nerthach was at his side.

‘It is time to go,’ the big warrior told his
rhi
and began to all but drag him back up the hill.

Tangwen turned back, but the other woman had gone. Behind her the warriors were mounting nervous steeds and coaxing them up out of the trench. Tangwen cursed her own foolishness. Then she walked between the flames of the pyres.

She walked into the woods, all but blind because of the fire. She knew that if any of Andraste’s spawn were nearby, her lack of night-sight would get her killed. She found a place to hide, then lay down and waited for her vision to return.

The woods were very busy tonight. She could hear the sounds of the warriors – the chink of metal, the creak of leather and wood. The warriors were advancing in a staggered line, experienced enough to control their nervous mounts. She watched one ride by close to where she hid. His polished and honed iron blade was caught in a beam of moonlight that had pierced the thinning autumn canopy of leaves. The sword blade looked as if it was glowing for a moment, and Tangwen thought of Fachtna.

When she was happy she could see as clearly as she would be able to, when she was happy she had been still long enough for the woods to get used to her, she started to move. She whispered a prayer to her father, and another to the night. She tried to move as she thought the other creatures of the forest would. It was only then that she realised what had been irking her, what felt odd about the forest: there were no noises other than the sounds of the horses. The warriors riding through the woods would disturb the local animals, but there should be noises further afield. Bats, owls, wolves and even bears were all night-hunters, but she heard nothing of them.
The Lord of the Woods has warned them
, she thought, and then wondered why she hadn’t heeded the same warning.

If the Iceni scouts were out there with her, she couldn’t hear them, which meant they were good. She started trailing the warriors who were ahead of her now, moving as if she was hunting them.

She heard noises the like of which she had never heard before. There was movement and lots of it; it sounded unnatural, too large for any normal creatures. She heard the warriors’ voices, they spoke as though they were trying to suppress their fear, a few shouted with false bravado. She continued moving forwards, flitting from shadow to shadow, an arrow nocked on the bowstring, for all the good it would do her.

Ahead of her it looked as if the entire forest was moving of its own accord. She glanced down and found the ground alive with crawling, fast-moving life. She could not make out what the creatures were, but they looked wrong. Larger, more twisted shapes, little more than shadows, moved through the beams of moonlight that broke through the forest canopy.

She could see several of the warriors on horseback advancing in a broken line, shields in one hand, longspears in the other. She moved closer still, though the fast-moving carpet of crawling, warped life made her nervous.

She heard screaming, forced herself to turn slowly so sudden movement didn’t give her position away. She saw one of the horses rearing. Its rider had dropped his spear and was desperately trying to control the animal. Living things surged up the horse’s legs from the moving forest floor. She watched as the flesh and then the bones of horse and rider were stripped and consumed. The rider’s cries only lasted a moment.

Emerging from the trees, which even now were beginning to change, warp and move of their own accord, were mockeries of life. She saw strange and horrible creatures that were patchwork fusions of other life, swollen to enormous size.

She heard battle cries, turned back to see a warrior charge something that looked like a tree with a mouth, four legs which ended in cloven hooves and flailing branch-like tendrils. A tendril flicked out and a man’s head tumbled through the night air. The horse ran by the thing, but more branch-like tendrils dropped down from newly moving trees and tore the creature off the ground. Chunks of horseflesh rained down on the seething, moving earth. Tangwen flinched at the sound of bones splintering, as blood sprayed the tree-thing’s bark-like skin.