Always Forever (57 page)

Veitch tried to appear nonchalant, but he was fighting against pride. The
woman noticed his fidgeting. "It is you, isn't it?"

"We are not special," Shavi said. "Not really. We are simply trying to do the
best we can in a very difficult situation-"

"I told you they were the heroes," the woman said to her husband. She
turned back to them excitedly. "What are you-"

Her husband pushed her out with undue roughness. "They don't want to be
bothered by us!" He shuffled around uncomfortably. "We'll leave you alone now,
lads. I know you'll have important stuff to talk about. But if you've got a
moment before you take your leave-"

"We'll fill you in, mate." Once he'd gone, Veitch said conspiratorially, "Can
you believe that? They're talking about us!"

"One should never believe one's own publicity, Ryan," Shavi said wryly. He
eased back in his chair and sipped on his boiled water.

"Yes, control your ego before your head explodes." Tom collected the plates
together and put them in the sink. "It's not important-"

"It's important to me. Nobody's ever called me a hero before."

"And this lot wouldn't either, if they knew you," Tom snapped. "To get
back to the matter at hand-"

"Your strategy's all wrong."

Tom picked up his chair and banged it down in irritation. "So you said.
Then what do you suggest?"

"You're the big bleedin' psychic. Shav here can talk to the birds. Can't you
find out where the others are-exactly-so we can link up with them? We
haven't got the time to keep wandering around. I want to be there the moment
they roll up, ready to ride on London."

"And do what? Shake your stump at them?" Tom recognised it was a cheap
shot the instant the words had left his lips but he refused to be contrite,
although he wouldn't meet Veitch's eyes.

Veitch wasn't upset. He leaned forward, resting his elbows on the table so
he wouldn't look so combative. "You know I'm talking sense here. We need a
plan. There's only a matter of days until Hallowe'en ... Samhain ... that's all.
There's not even a guarantee Church and the others are coming back."

"Then we're lost," Tom said sharply. "Separately, we are nothing."

"Sometimes you're so bleedin' pathetic."

"They will be back," Shavi said. "I have faith."

"Then we can get down to the fighting." Veitch adjusted the cloth around
what remained of his wrist.

"You all appear to be forgetting something vitally important." Tom spun
the chair around so he could lean on the back. He looked at Veitch accusingly.
"Church will not have forgotten."

"What?" Veitch looked from Tom to Shavi.

"The land," Shavi said.

"Exactly." Tom took out his tin and made a roll-up with his dwindling supply
of tobacco. "Wake the land. The primary mission, encoded for generations in myth
and legend. There will be no defeating the Fomorii, no future for Britain-or the
world for that matter-unless the land is woken from its long sleep."

"Like Church did in Edinburgh," Veitch said, "when the Fire helped blow
those Bastards in their lair to kingdom come. But, yeah, it helped. Why's it so
important?"

"The Tuatha De Danann would not have beaten the Fomorii before if the
power in the land had not been vibrant."

"I do not remember you telling us that before," Shavi said suspiciously.

Tom sucked on the roll-up a few times to get it alight. "The power in the
land, at its height, weakens the Fomorii. The Blue Fire-and what it represents-is the antithesis of the Night Walkers, and what they represent."

"So it's everywhere-" Veitch began.

Tom had no patience left. "It is powered by belief and faith and hope, by
humanity and nature in conjunction. By all that is good in us. And for generations it has been slowly growing dormant. Several hundred years ago humanity
took a wrong path. We gave up all that was most important for the promise of
shiny things, home comforts, products. There was a time we could have had both,
to a degree. But the ones who shape our thoughts, in politics and business, and
the fools who invested their faith in science alone, convinced us to trade one off
for the other. And without the belief of the people, the energy slowly withered,
like a stream in a drought. Not gone for ever, just sleeping."

"But you know how it can be woken," Shavi said. "You have always known."

Veitch watched Shavi's face and then turned his narrowing eyes to Tom.
"Another thing you've kept from us. You can't be trusted at all, can you, you old
bastard? We could have done it weeks ago and saved us all a load of trouble."

"The time was not right then. Church was not right. The Fomorii corruption in him would have brought failure. And to fail once would have meant
failing for all time."

Shavi watched Tom carefully. "What else do you know?"

"More things than you could ever dream." Tom was unbowed. "Some have
to be learned through hardship and ritual-they can't be imparted over a quiet
cup of tea. Others, well, the telling of them could alter the outcome of what is
being told. I ask you to trust me, as I always have."

"We do trust you," Veitch said irritably. "That doesn't mean you don't get
on our tits half the time."

"At least we have some common ground," Tom said acidly. The strain of
events was eating away at all of them.

"Then what needs to be done?" Shavi asked. "And can it be done in the time
that remains?"

Tom sucked on the roll-up thoughtfully; they couldn't quite divine his mood:
dismal or hopeful? "The energy in the earth crisscrosses the globe, interlinking like
the lines of latitude and longitude, only not so uniform. The Fire is not a straight
line thing. It splits and winds in two strands around a central point, so that from
above it resembles the double helix, the map of life, or perhaps the caduceus, the ageold symbol of two serpents coiled around a staff. Imagine, if you will, powerpoints
where the energy rushes in, or is refocused and driven out into the network. The
Well of Fire at Edinburgh was one, and Stonehenge and Avebury and Glastonbury
Tor. The last three are important for they all fall on the divining line for Britain."

"The St. Michael Line," Shavi noted. "A ley running from Carn Les Boel at
Land's End to St. Margaret's Church at Hopton on the east coast in Norfolk."

"Along that line are many of those powerpoints. They feed the whole network. For the land to come alive with the earth energy, the St. Michael Line
must be vibrant and powerful. But it is fractured in part, sluggish in others, a
trickle in many places."

"And to wake it?" Shavi asked.

"On the tip of Cornwall there is an ancient and mysterious place known as
St. Michael's Mount. It is the lynchpin of the entire line. I have spoken in the
past about the Celts and the other ancient races encoding great secrets in the
earth itself. At St. Michael's Mount is the greatest secret of all. Locked under
that place, Church-and Church alone-will uncover the key to bringing the
line, and the land, back to life. Or he will find death."

Veitch tapped out a monotonous beat on the kitchen table with a teaspoon.
"They'll have the place well defended," he said, staring into space. "Those tricks
and traps they lined up to guard the spear, sword and the rest of it were bad
enough. If this is their biggest secret-"

"Exactly," Tom said.

"Then," Shavi said, "we need to get Church to St. Michael's Mount as soon
as we can."

In a quiet orchard at the back of the farmhouse, with the yellowing, autumn
leaves glowing spectrally in the moonlight, Shavi sat cross-legged and listened
to the sound of the night. Amongst the surrounding vegetation, eyes glittered-a fox, a rabbit, a badger, several stray cats-all of whom had come to see
the shaman at work. The ritual, his first since leaving the Grim Lands, had been
wearying, necessitating some of the tricks of concentration he thought he had
become too experienced to need. But it had worked.

A few feet above the ground, the air was boiling as what appeared to be liquid
metal bubbled out and drifted down; it was accompanied by the familiar smell of
burnt iron. Behind it came one of the bone-white, featureless creatures Shavi had
summoned before, a human-shaped construct used by one of the denizens of the Invisible World. It pulled itself forward and hung half in and half out of the hole in space.

"Who brings me to this place?" Its voice was like the wind on a winter sea.

"It is I, Brother of Dragons."

"I know you, Brother of Dragons. Have you not learned your lesson, of
reaching out to the worlds beyond your own?"

"I know my place, and I know yours. I seek guidance."

"You did not heed our words before." The creature put its head on one side
in a faintly mocking style.

Shavi recalled the prophetic message one of these creatures had given him
about his murder at Callow's hands, but it had been couched in such cryptic
terms he had not realised its meaning until it was too late to do anything about
it. "I chose my path. And I am here to hear your words again."

"There is a price."

Shavi ran a thumb over the rough pad of his left hand, now crisscrossed with
a score of tiny scars, chose a spot, then slit it with a knife. The blood dripped on
to the damp grass.

"You give freely of your essence, Brother of Dragons." An underlying note
of warning.

"Another Brother of Dragons, our leader, known as Church, is currently
abroad in the Far Lands. Firstly, how does he fare?"

"He fares well. You have achieved all that you desire, but what you desire
may do more harm than good."

Shavi noted this subtle warning, knowing there was no point attempting to
get the construct to elucidate. "Then he will be back shortly. My second question: where will he arrive?"

"He will return to the Fixed Lands at the point from which he departed,
where Merlin's Rock marks a doorway between worlds."

Shavi didn't recognise the name, but he guessed Tom probably would.
"Then I thank you for your guidance. Return safely to the Invisible World." He
paused. "No final words of warning?"

Although the construct had no features, Shavi was convinced it was smiling.
"No warning would ever do justice to what lies ahead for you and your Brothers
and Sisters."

And then it was gone.

Tom and Veitch sat around the range in the candlelight, drinking homemade
beer. They were used to Shavi's ragged appearance after making contact with the
Invisible World, but were eager to discover what he had learned. As he had
expected, Tom knew the location instantly.

"Mousehole," the Rhymer said gruffly. "Then he joined Manannan's sick crew."

"Where's that, then?" Veitch swilled the beer down rapidly; six large mugs
in a quarter of an hour.

"Cornwall." Tom stared at the red coals in the open door of the range. "In
the furthest tip. The part of the country where the Celts buried their greatest
secrets, and subsequently the most spiritual part of the land."

"Bloody hell, it's going to take us ages to get down there." Veitch took
another swig, then looked up suddenly. "You could make another jump."

Tom waved him silent, his eyes still fixed on the fire, deep in thought. Shavi
asked what Veitch meant and the Londoner spent the next five minutes
attempting to explain how they had slipped into the energy flow between Scotland and Wandlebury Camp. Shavi was enthused by the entire concept and
excitedly questioned Tom about it.

"Didn't you hear me say the St. Michael Line is fractured?" he snapped. "If
we attempt to travel along it and hit a dead spot we will be unceremoniously
spewed out into the world. Perhaps over a gorge or a cliff face or above a river
in torrent. Now what good will that do?"

Veitch examined the deep lines of Tom's face, the fix of his eyes, until Tom
could no longer pretend he hadn't seen him. "What?"

"You're thinking about it."

"No, I'm not."

"Yes, you are. I can see it in your face, you old bastard. And I know exactly
what you're thinking. You're thinking it's too much of a risk for all three of us,
but one of us needs to try it because we're running out of time."

Tom was particularly irritated at Veitch's sudden insight.

"I'm right, aren't I?"

"Oh, shut up." Tom rose from his chair and went over to the window to peer
out into the dark. "It has to be me because only I can give Church the guidance
he needs. Only I can point him towards St. Michael's Mount." A few beats of
silence. "And the two of you are too valuable to risk. Five of you are needed to
put this square. Any less ... if any of you don't make it through the next two
weeks ..." He made a dismissive gesture.

"Then what should we do?" Shavi asked.

Tom was already gathering his things together in his haversack. "You must
make your way to a meeting place, somewhere just beyond the reach of the
Fomorii influence on the outskirts of London. I would suggest the west-"