Jack of Ravens (69 page)

‘Your legend grows by the day,’ the queen said lightly.

‘And these are your fellow Brothers and Sisters of Dragons?’ The king surveyed the others. Laura was fixated on a man with a hawk’s beak and the legs of a goat, while a woman with silver eyes and grey skin was examining Ruth’s long hair, much to Ruth’s discomfort. Church introduced the three of them.

‘You’re here at my request?’ Church asked the king.

‘This is where our quest led us, Brother of Dragons. The task you set us was not easy, for the prize did not want to be found. We had to listen quietly to the whisperings of Existence, follow the scents on the wind—’

‘Thank you. I’m in your debt. Where—?’

The queen brought a hand to her temple. Her brow furrowed. ‘Beware. The hunters have come.’

On the lip of the crater high above, five riders were silhouetted against the lights of the visitors’ centre. The spiders couldn’t enter the peculiar magical atmosphere of the site, but Veitch and his four followers had no problem; they had all been touched by the Pendragon Spirit and the Blue Fire held no fear for them.

Veitch fell into relief as he urged his horse down the winding path. The others followed.

Church turned to Ruth, Shavi and Laura. ‘We have to find some way to hold them off until I can do what I need to do.’

‘Go,’ Shavi said. ‘We will do what we can.’

The king pointed towards the tropical biome. Church ran for the entrance with the sound of the approaching horses in his ears.

13

Sparks flew from the iron-shod hoofs of the horses as they thundered from the path towards the biomes. Ruth was drawn to Veitch, whose dark eyes never left her face. Something crackled between them, but what it was she did not know; he scared her and intrigued her in equal measure.

She braced herself for a confrontation, but he continued past her, never breaking his stare, which, like her feelings, had a strange duality: accusing and yearning.

She heard two words as he passed: no quarter.

It was the second rider who almost brought her down, a once-beautiful woman, her face now half-scarred by burns; Church’s description hadn’t captured the true horror of Etain’s dead, menacing stare. Ruth threw herself out of the way at the last moment.

Not far away, Tannis, Owein and Branwen focused their attention on Shavi and Laura. The monstrous horses attacked with a terrifying ferocity. Laura threw herself into the dense vegetation with Shavi close behind. The riders moved along the network of paths to head them off.

Etain tried three more times to run Ruth down, but Ruth felt infused with energy and desperate to make up for all the time she had spent sleeping through her life. Etain remained cold and aloof, as efficient in her attack as a machine, but Ruth sensed some well-hidden part of her that was not that way.

As they continued their cat-and-mouse game, Etain successfully backed Ruth into a corner. As Etain rode her down, Ruth’s owl swooped from the sky and raked a chunk of dead flesh from the charred side of Etain’s face. Once Ruth had escaped, the owl retreated before Etain could strike.

Deciding on a change of tactics, Etain leaped from her mount and drew a rusty, bloodstained sword. As she advanced, Ruth realised what was hidden behind those dead eyes: jealousy.

14

The heat hit Church like a wall the moment he stepped through the door. In an instant he went from the cool of an English summer evening to the oppressive cauldron of a humid tropical night. High overhead the hexagons and pentagons of the biome roof were just visible through the thick canopy of lofty, flourishing trees. The sound of rushing water thundered all around from artificial waterfalls and streams pouring into languid green pools. Standpipes sprayed a mist of water at regular intervals to maintain the humidity.

His heart pounding, Church hurried along the twisting path amongst the dense tropical vegetation. He had no idea where he was going – the path branched, leading down to dead ends or rising high up along a rock wall. His clothes were already drenched with sweat.

He forced himself to calm down. Closing his eyes and letting his breathing become deep and regular, he allowed himself to feel. The Blue Fire called to him. He only had to let himself be drawn into its embrace.

When he opened his eyes, his perception had changed, yet though he searched along the path there were no blue lines of force. If there was no Blue Fire to guide him, how could he do what had to be done?

As he turned slowly, ducking down to examine the surface of the path, he caught a glimmer of blue deep in the undergrowth. Peering in, he saw a barely visible sapphire filigree, secret, only for those who really wanted to find it. His prize had been as well hidden as the king had said. Scuttling on his hands and knees, he followed the thin blue line into the vegetation.

He only heard the padding footsteps at the last moment before the full weight of a body slam sent him sprawling across the path. Veitch loomed over him, the black fire of his sword casting swirling shadows. Church rolled out of the way as the blade came down. He was half-up when Veitch caught him in the face with a boot and he toppled over a railing and into the warm waters of a pool. Taking a breath, he swam beneath the surface.

Veitch dived in, raising torrents as he chopped wildly into the water with the sword. He finally caught Church beneath a deafening waterfall where the cascade eliminated the outside world, and the two of them were enclosed in a private prison of sound and fury. Church dodged another thrust, but instead of retreating he darted forward and smashed a fist into Veitch’s face. His knuckles rang with pain, but Veitch pitched backwards into the churning water, spraying blood behind him.

Church leaped out through the waterfall and scrambled up a steep bank, using thick vines and overhanging branches for purchase. He eventually hauled himself over a railing and back onto the path. In the pool, there was no sign of Veitch.

He wrenched free a piece of railing; a poor weapon, but it would have to do. Quickly, he ducked down and searched until he found the near-invisible line of force. Keeping low, he followed it as fast as he could until he came to a hut on stilts, constructed to show how people lived in the tropics. The line continued underneath it.

A supplicant serpent, Church wriggled on his belly until he came to a spot in the most inaccessible area where a barely visible circle of Blue Fire formed in the soil. He slammed his palm down into the centre of it. The Pendragon Spirit within him spoke to the Blue Fire hiding in the earth. The ground rumbled and a small hole opened up. Church threw himself in.

15

Laura scrambled through dense bushes that tore at her skin, but however much she tried to hide, the riders somehow knew exactly where she was. Tannis drove his mount into the vegetation, hoofs smashing inches from her head with the force of a steam hammer.

She pressed further into the thicket, only to realise the sounds of Tannis’s pursuit had changed. Looking back, she saw the bushes moving with a life of their own, growing and changing as they wrapped around the horse’s legs.

Laura knew she had caused it, but had no idea how. As Tannis drew his sword and prepared to pursue her on foot, a branch shot out like a spear and burst through his chest. It pinned him like a butterfly in a collector’s case, and though she knew he was already dead, Laura was still sickened by the way he tried to tear himself free.

She escaped from the undergrowth onto the path. Across the base of the crater, she could see Branwen and Owein trying to trap Shavi in a pincer movement. Further down near the biome, the Seelie Court had given Ruth cover so she could escape Etain’s attack. Ruth was slipping quietly along a raised walkway and into the biome. Yet it looked to Laura as though Etain knew exactly where Ruth was going; indeed, that Etain had herded her that way on purpose.

16

After falling down the hole, Church found himself in a tunnel that sloped steeply downwards. The heat was as heavy as in the biome and added to the claustrophobic atmosphere. He skidded over damp rock gleaming in the half-light and came to a cavern that was barely the size of half a football pitch with a ceiling only the height of three men. A small pool of Blue Fire
crackled in the centre, and in it slept the Fabulous Beast that had fled Vietnam, coiled tightly in the sustaining energy, its wounds still visible on its scales.

Church approached cautiously. The heavy-lidded eyes were closed and its breathing sounded like the rumbling of a traction engine.

When he had asked the Seelie Court to search for the Beast’s hiding place, he knew it was the key to his ability to fight back, but he wasn’t sure if even the Tuatha Dé Danann would be able to locate it.

As Church considered how to wake the Beast from its long, recuperative slumber, he heard movement behind him. Veitch stood in the entrance to the tunnel, his blade fizzing and spitting as if in opposition to the Blue Fire.

‘Stay away, Veitch,’ Church said. ‘It’s too late now. Once I wake this thing you’ll be toast.’

‘You always used to call me Ryan.’ His face gave nothing away.

‘You’ve wasted your time trying to get revenge. I didn’t kill you over Ruth. I did it because I had no choice. You were being manipulated by the gods and you were going to wreck everything.’

‘We’re all puppets in one way or another.’ He pointed the sword towards the rocks and the black flames snapped angrily. ‘When we met, you treated me like an equal. We set out on that road and there was a lot of death and a lot of pain, but for the first time I felt as if I wasn’t on my own. I had friends like I’d never had before, who listened to me and trusted me.’ He looked away and Church was surprised to see tears in his eyes.

‘We can—’

‘No, we can’t!’ he raged. ‘You don’t get it, do you? Things always work out for you. Born to be the king. The worst thing is to start out with misery, get shown a bit of hope and then have it taken away. If you lived in misery all your life you wouldn’t know any difference. Having that bit of hope makes all the bad stuff a hundred times worse. A thousand. I wish I’d never known you. I wish I’d never been a Brother of Dragons, just so I wouldn’t have to keep thinking how things might have been.’

He gripped his sword with two hands and raised it. In the glare from the black flames, his face took on a monstrous cast.

‘That’s why I’m going to kill you, and then I’m going to kill that.’ He jabbed the sword towards the Fabulous Beast. And then I’m going to make sure there’s no more Blue Fire, and no more hope, so nobody has to go through what I’ve been through.’

Church backed up until he was ankle-deep in the Blue Fire, and felt it call out to his own Pendragon Spirit. He held up the piece of broken railing and thought how pathetic it looked.

As Veitch brought his sword closer to the pool of earth energy, it began to emit a sound like static that set Church’s teeth on edge. The unrestrained hatred in Veitch’s face was almost too much for Church to bear.

Behind him, the Fabulous Beast still slept. Church prepared to fight, knowing his likely options were die now or die later.

He turned and placed his hands on the Fabulous Beast. Its scales were hard and cool like gems beneath his fingers. His consciousness flowed through him and into the Beast as it had done in Vietnam, and once again he had the bizarre sensation of being in two places at once: in his own body and in the creature’s head.

The Fabulous Beast opened its eyes, and he had the even more disorienting sensation of watching himself. Veitch was behind him, sword raised to deliver the killing blow.

The creature reared up to the roof of the cavern in one fluid motion. Its uncoiling form propelled Church backwards and knocked Veitch offbalance. It released a burst of liquid fire along the roof of the cavern that illuminated another tunnel at the far end. The furnace heat of it seared Church’s lungs and almost drove him unconscious.

For one instant, he looked into its glittering eye and saw the untamed power there. After a long recuperation from its agony in Vietnam, it was now ready to return. With serpentine grace, it glided across the pool of Blue Fire and disappeared into the tunnel at speed.

Church staggered to his feet, still reeling from the fiery blast. Veitch was already up, silent and intense.

‘You can kill me now,’ Church said, ‘but now the Beast is out our side will have a chance.’

‘Aren’t you the big hero winning the day,’ Veitch sneered.

He stepped forward. Church ducked the first blow, using the piece of railing to deflect the sword, but being careful to ensure it didn’t take the full force that would shear through it in an instant. They performed a vicious ballet across the pool of Blue Fire. Veitch grew more furious with each passing second, forgetting his expertise, hacking and slashing almost randomly. Church was filled with grace and power. He could almost anticipate Veitch’s attacks, slipping away at the last second. He wielded the railing like a sword, ripping open Veitch’s cheek, tearing open his shirt, raising blood in a hundred places. Veitch’s eyes blazed; Church was convinced his opponent’s rage eliminated any pain.

As Veitch increased the ferocity of his attacks, Church grew calmer; he felt at peace in the centre of a storm. He sidestepped a vicious thrust, and then rammed the railing between Veitch’s calves, using his weight to pitch Veitch to the ground. As Veitch sprawled in the Blue Fire, Church brought one jagged end of the railing to Veitch’s throat.