A Quantum Mythology (66 page)

‘No,’ Bladud said.

‘I thought not,’ Guidgen said.

‘There will be no tomorrow for you all to fight over if we do not decide soon,’ Tangwen said.

‘And who gets to drink from it?’ Britha asked. All eyes turned to her. ‘They will be powerful, no matter who holds the chalice.’

Immediately more arguments broke out. Britha cursed herself, but it was something they had to bear in mind. Bladud had a point, but so did Guidgen. The only way she could see it working was for the
dryw
to decide how and when the chalice should be used. The problem was that Bladud didn’t trust Guidgen, and nobody trusted her.

‘You would be slaves,’ Germelqart said quietly. Britha only heard him because her hearing was so much better since she had drunk from the chalice.

‘Quiet!’ Britha used the voice that cannot be argued with. It brought silence. She looked expectantly at the small Carthaginian, who in turn looked uncomfortable.

‘Do any of you know how to use it?’ the navigator asked.

‘Do you?’ Bladud demanded. Germelqart nodded. ‘How?’

‘Will you tell me the secrets of the
dryw
?’ Germelqart asked.

‘He might, if he thought it would earn him power,’ Guidgen said. Bladud turned on the elderly
dryw
. ‘I am sorry. You did not deserve that – ask of me what you will in compensation.’

‘It’s a foreign trick,’ Ysgawyn said nodding towards Germelqart. ‘Nothing more.’ He made it sound as if this was something that should be obvious to all.

‘The … magics in the chalice are still … attuned to the Dark Man,’ Germelqart said. ‘You must change this.’

‘Then we may drink from it?’ Bladud asked.

‘If you wish,’ Germelqart replied.

‘Or make stronger weapons? Weapons that could harm the spawn of Andraste?’ Guidgen asked.

‘You could do that now, though there would be a risk,’ Germelqart said. ‘The weapons would be … possessed by devils. They would speak to you, trick you, try to make you do their bidding. You see only the power, but there is a cost. The chalice could just as easily be the ruin of you.’

‘But you could save us from that? How kind of you,’ Ysgawyn said, his voice dripping with sarcasm.

‘I think that if we can attune it, then we can heal your land,’ Germelqart said. All eyes were on him.

‘At what price?’ Ysgawyn asked.

‘If you mean who should have responsibility for it, then I would give it to the one who’s showed the least interest in both the chalice and power in general. The one who has time and time again acted in the best interests of your people, no matter the cost,’ the Carthaginian told them.

Britha found herself nodding along with Germelqart.

‘And who is this paragon?’ Ysgawyn demanded.

‘Tangwen,’ Germelqart said. All eyes turned to the young warrior. Tangwen looked astonished. At all the attention, her hand came up to cover her face, but Britha’s blood had healed the scar. Both Bladud and Guidgen were looking at the young woman thoughtfully.

‘Tangwen the young, Tangwen serpent-child. Tangwen serpent-tongue, more like. What foolishness is this?’ Ysgawyn spat. ‘I think not.’

‘Then isn’t it the way of your people to challenge her?’ Germelqart said. Britha was starting to think that not only was the Carthaginian very cunning, he had a seam of iron running through his backbone as well.

Ysgawyn snorted with derision. ‘Aye, let me drink of her blood first’ – he nodded to Britha – ‘and we’ll see how much of a warrior she is when she faces someone on equal terms.’

‘Gladly,’ Britha said. This appeared to take Ysgawyn by surprise.

Tangwen opened her mouth to say something.

‘Tangwen!’ a voice shouted from the crowd. It was Twrch, the timid but powerfully built Parisi metalworker.

‘Tangwen!’ another voice cried. It was Duach. His friend Sel was nodding in agreement. Both of them had borne Essyllt’s litter. As Brigante landsfolk, both were defying their king. More among the landsfolk and the survivors were taking up the call and shouting her name. Britha found herself smiling. It made sense. She glanced over at Guidgen. He was looked happy with the idea as well.

Bladud raised his staff and motioned for quiet. Eventually the chanting died down.

‘I cannot say this pleases me,’ Bladud said, ‘but I believe it is the best compromise we can come to on this day, in the time we have.’

All eyes turned to Tangwen. Tangwen shook her head, looking less than pleased. Britha could see the fatigue in the younger woman.

There were shouts from the sentries, warnings being relayed from scouts in the woods. Guidgen listened and then turned to the others.

‘They are not far now,’ he told them. The rain had stopped and the sun was trying to break through the clouds. A ray of light appeared in the sky. ‘I think Nodens blesses us,’ Guidgen said.

‘I think Nodens offers us hope, nothing more,’ Bladud said.

A figure ran into the fort and collapsed in front of Guidgen, one of the
gwyllion
scouts. His mouth had distended and run around the side of his face to join with a hump. As they watched, the hump opened its multiple eyes. Guidgen looked appalled. He stepped forwards and brought the point of his sickle down on top of the man’s head. There was a crack and the curve of the blade pushed the point through the scout’s head and out of his mouth in a spray of red. Guidgen rested a foot on the scout’s shoulder and jerked the sickle free. The weapon had been washed in Britha’s blood. The iron was absorbing the blood, bone and grey matter on the blade.

‘Burn the body?’ Bladud asked. Guidgen nodded. Both of them turned to look at Tangwen.

‘That was one of our scouts. We are out of time,’ Guidgen told her.

‘Remove the ghost fence,’ Tangwen told Guidgen. ‘Give the Red Chalice to Germelqart.’ Muttering started up among the crowd. ‘We have no more time! Challenge now or keep your tongue still behind your teeth!’ Everyone went quiet. Britha noticed a lot of the older warriors nodding. ‘What do you need of us?’ she asked Germelqart.

‘Protection,’ Germelqart said. ‘And someone to go with me.’

‘Go! Go where?’ Ysgawyn snapped. ‘We give this foreigner the chalice and it will be—’

Tangwen said nothing. Instead she drew her hatchet and her dirk and faced Ysgawyn. The
rhi
of the Corpse People fell silent. Madawg took a step forwards but Ysgawyn put a hand on his shoulder. Tangwen turned back to Germelqart.

‘In truth, I don’t like the idea of you going anywhere with the chalice, either,’ she told the Carthaginian.

‘My body will be right here with you,’ Germelqart said. ‘It is only my spirit that will travel.’

Tangwen nodded as if she understood. Britha suspected it was more to ease the minds of those who watched than out of genuine understanding.

‘Before you leave, the chalice must change the weapons that we have so they can harm the spawn of Andraste,’ Tangwen told him. Britha was sure the other woman was making it up as she went along, but it made sense. ‘Who will you take with you?’

Germelqart turned and looked at Britha. Britha nodded. It was right. Whatever her losses, however selfishly she had behaved, she had to begin to serve again. There was some muttering, but it was silenced by Tangwen’s angry stares.

‘Then I will stand over you,’ Tangwen said.

‘Should we drink of the cup?’ Bladud asked. Britha was impressed that as a king he had the sense to listen to those who knew more than he did. ‘I ask only because this will be a fierce fight.’

‘I think that will make you a slave of Crom Dhubh,’ Germelqart said, ‘though I cannot be sure of this. The same is to be said of the weapons, but there is less risk when the devils are in wood and metal than when they are in the flesh … I think.’

Bladud nodded, as though satisfied with the answer.

The fort was chaos as they prepared for the fight. The youngest of the children and the oldest of the elderly were against the wall of the fort furthest from where the spawn would attack. They were to be defended by the eldest of the children and the more capable of the elderly. Everyone carried spears.

Germelqart had cut himself and bled into the chalice, then placed it on the ground, its red liquid contents churning. The Carthaginian told them to dip their weapons into the chalice. A long line had formed. Some of the warriors had insisted on precedence. Tangwen spat in the face of the most vocal one. It was a quick fight. Tangwen was still carrying around his dripping severed head. Britha had not approved of the death. The warrior, one of the Iceni and a friend to the huge warrior Bress had killed, would be missed. She did, however, understand the necessity of it. Bladud and Guidgen had then gone to stand at the end of the line.

They had, however, given precedence to spears and arrows. The more distance there was between them and the spawn, the more chance they had. As soon as swords, spears and arrows were placed in the chalice, the red-gold filigree shot out of the vessel and started wrapping itself around the weapons. The arrow tips, the spearheads, the blades – all came away with a red sheen to them.

Then the weapons began to speak to them. They thirsted for blood. They wished to feel flesh around them. The first killings came as the weak-minded, to Britha’s thinking, succumbed to the whispers. They attacked other defenders and had to be put down themselves. Again Tangwen had been there to take heads and display them as warning to others. Most kept their weapons to hand but would not touch them until they needed to. Britha noticed that some of the warriors had looks on their faces that suggested they relished what they were hearing.

Britha had too much time to think. Short of a few harsh words to those who were proving difficult, there was little she could do to help until the weapons had been prepared.

Since she saw the moon, she had begun to feel the change within herself. She knew it was true. She understood what Bress had meant, the great crime against the future of which he had spoken.

‘Britha?’

She looked up to see Tangwen standing in front of her. She was covered in mud and blood and now carried three severed heads in her left hand. Her right held her dripping hatchet. She wore woad on her face, like the majority of the warriors present. The Corpse People had limed themselves and painted their eyes black, but Britha struggled to take them seriously now. She herself wore the reds and darker dyes on her face, ritual rather than war-markings for her skin. Though she did not think it mattered now, perhaps it gave comfort to those who watched, made them think she knew what she was doing.

‘I’m sorry—’ Britha started, but Tangwen was shaking her head.

‘We do not need a weak Britha now,’ the younger woman told her. Britha had been standing under one of the palisades, sheltering from the rain that had started again and turned all to mud. The rain was dripping down Tangwen’s face, making her woad run. ‘We need the daughter of Andraste, we need the cannibal hag, the throat-cutter, the bear-slayer.’

Britha closed her eyes. Tears trickled out unbidden, only to be sucked back in through her skin. She opened her wet eyes and nodded.

‘You used to frighten me. Do so again.’ Tangwen moved to leave.

‘Wait,’ Britha said. Tangwen hesitated. ‘You are going to stand over us?’

They could both hear shouts from the wall. The woods beyond had started to move. Tangwen turned back to the other woman. Britha handed Tangwen her spear. It wasn’t the one she carried to Oeth. That weapon she had left in her lover’s chest. This had belonged to Brys. The grey-bearded warrior had dipped it in her blood but left it at the top of the chasm before they climbed down. Britha had taken it to defend herself when they fled Annwn.

The hunter looked to the spear, and then to Britha. ‘When this is done I will come with you,’ Tangwen told the other woman.

Britha almost burst into tears. Instead she made a hiccoughing sound and immediately admonished herself.

‘My blood has not come,’ Britha blurted out. She was not sure why she told Tangwen, particularly now.

Tangwen looked taken aback.‘Whose?’ Tangwen asked.

‘Bress’s.’ Britha resisted the urge to look away from the other woman as she said his name.

Tangwen considered what she’d been told. ‘Better decide if you want this one to live,’ Tangwen said. Then she turned and walked towards Germelqart. Britha walked with her.

Germelqart was sitting cross-legged in the centre of the fort. They wanted to be far from the wall, but not too close to the children and elderly. He was soaked through and covered in mud, the Red Chalice on the ground in front of him. Britha sat down opposite him. Tangwen drove three casting spears into the mud in a triangle around the pair of them and the chalice. Then the young warrior impaled the severed heads she had been carrying on the points of the casting spears. Next she drove the spear Britha had given her into the ground so she could grab it easily. She would have done the same with her arrows but rain was not good for flights or bowstrings. The arrows stayed in their quiver, covered, though this would only protect them from the damp to a certain degree. Her bow remained unstrung for the time being.

‘I have given this a lot of thought,’ Germelqart said, looking up, rain dripping down his face. There were more shouts from the palisades. Britha heard the sound of bows being loosed. ‘I really hate your land.’

Britha smiled. ‘What do we do?’ she asked. She realised she was afraid, though she knew she must not show it. None of her dealings with the Otherworld had ever gone particularly well.

‘Blood,’ Germelqart said.

‘It always is.’

There was more shouting. Those with bows loosed again and again. There was a horrible screeching noise, and then a shadow fell across them. Britha glanced up to see something deformed in the sky above them.

‘Britha!’ Germelqart said. Britha glanced back down. Tangwen was staring up, stringing her bow. ‘The blood will form a … connection between us and the … spirit of the chalice.’ He drew a copper blade across his palm. The blood welled up and he made a fist over the chalice. The blood began to drip into the vessel.

Quickly Britha drew her iron-bladed dirk and did the same. The sharp blade cut through her skin as if it wasn’t there. She clenched her fist over the chalice, dripping blood.