by Neil Beynon
Cernubus put his hand to his shoulder, where an ugly welt trickled blood down his chest, matting hair and attracting flies. Danu laughed as he hissed in pain, smirked as he used his good arm to heal the wound, and looked disappointed when the flesh knotted back together. What was causing that? Perhaps his hold on the Kurah was not quite as strong as appearance suggested. Danu took a deep breath and twisted the knife.
‘Didn’t notice that? Interesting. Can you feel anything?’
‘Be quiet.’
‘You can’t, can you?’ She peered closer at his self-inflicted tattoos. ‘What did you do to yourself?’
‘You did this to me,’ he said, glaring at her.
Danu folded her arms. ‘I did no such thing. I banished you and you deserved it. I did not cut you or turn you into the hateful husk I see before me. You did that all by yourself.’
The god lost control. There was no time to exploit it as she had planned. Cernubus was through the bars of the cell before she could move, his arm connecting with her jaw in the next instant and snapping her head back. The goddess fell to her knees with the shock of it, the copper taste of blood in her mouth. Cernubus stood over her. The bars hummed behind him.
‘If it weren’t near the alignment …’ he said.
‘Then you’d still be in exile,’ she said, spitting blood. Her only hope now was to distract him long enough for Vedic to arrive. ‘I know the cult that you hoodwinked into returning your power, and the ones you fed off in your search for more. The humans used to have a name for your kind.’
‘I didn’t just search for more power; I found it,’ he answered, kicking her.
Pain flowered in her belly. Gasping for breath, watching her own spit drop to the mud, Danu struggled to move away from the raging god as he landed her with blow after blow. There wasn’t the frenzied attack she would have expected but a cold, surgical punishment that had one purpose: to inflict pain without actually killing her before the sacrifice – she still had to look like Danu.
On the edge of the darkness, two eyes stared at her. The creature started towards her, but the goddess stretched out her hand, her silent command stopping the being from coming any closer. She did not need another death in her name, especially not that one, anything but that one.
As the hunter circled her, taunting her, she found the trees were reacting to the presence of the fawn, threatening discovery through their excitement. Danu forced her mind away from the pain she was feeling and concentrated on masking the forest’s recognition of her silent guardian. As Cernubus struck again, Danu closed her eyes, picturing the woodsman. From there, the memories flowed like the sea, sweeping her into her past and away from the pain of now. When she opened her eyes once more, the small watcher had gone, across the land towards the lake, safe at last. As she rolled onto her back and looked up at the sentinels, she hoped Vedic was near. There wasn’t much time, and she could do no more.
‘Are you ready?’
Anya looked down at the god as she spoke. Pan was sitting cross-legged by her, his hands implanted into the soil, and Vedic sat on her right. Akyar and Meyr wandered back towards them. The light breeze carried a faint smell of burnt wood as if someone, somewhere, were making camp. All was quiet. You could almost have supposed they were gathering to sing songs round their own campfire, friends meeting again after a time apart rather than on the eve of another fight. And will you kill again? Here in this world, where it matters?
Anya no longer knew whose voice she was hearing in her head. She did not know how to answer the question. There was no longer any shaking when she picked up her sword, and she had not seen any ghosts since Golgotha, but the thought of ending someone’s life? She knew she might have to kill again, but she had pushed the thought away whenever it popped into her head.
Pan moved from sitting to standing. Anya could not say how. Soil crumbled from his hands, and he appeared only half there, like he was drunk on wine or the leaf her grandfather and Falkirk used to smoke. Akyar and Meyr murmured hello.
‘Do you think you will get to the Tream in time?’ asked Vedic.
Pan smiled. ‘We will get there in time. Whether we can persuade Hogarth is another matter. Can you free Danu?’
Vedic raised an eyebrow. ‘You tell me. This is your idea.’
‘Hers,’ said Pan.
‘That’s not very reassuring,’ snapped Vedic.
‘Stop,’ said Anya, her voice firm. ‘Let us part friends. We have all been through so much, and there is so far yet to go.’
Pan nodded. Vedic glowered. She’d take it.
‘Farewell, woodsman,’ said Pan, offering his hand.
Vedic stared at the offered hand for a moment. Anya thought he wasn’t going to take it, but then he did, grabbing Pan’s forearm in the Kurah manner. She flinched. Pan smiled.
‘Remember, freeing Danu is more important than killing Cernubus. If you can manage that, we will have a chance.’
Vedic frowned but nodded.
Akyar did not ask permission but clasped Vedic in a bear hug that lifted the woodsman from his feet.
‘You gnarly bastard,’ he yelped. ‘Take that fucking hunter down.’
‘Get off me,’ said Vedic, although there was the ghost of a laugh in his tone.
Meyr stepped forward, and Vedic bent down so they were at eye level. ‘You tell your father to forget about the Morrigan.’
Meyr nodded. He offered his hand not in the Kurah way but the Shaanti, fist extended, and Anya watched as Vedic returned the signal without thinking, knuckle to knuckle. A passing moment, but Anya felt like someone had poured ice down her back. She could not say why. Meyr ran to her and gave her a hug as if he would never see her again. Pan and Akyar joined in.
‘Let’s get on with this,’ growled Vedic. ‘We need to get going. It’s a long trek to the glade.’
They broke the hug. Pan wandered out into an area of ground that was not covered in broken trees or burnt brush, and began the incantation. He brought his hands together in a loud clap, and power surged down his arms, forming a light between the palms of his hand that fizzed and burned incandescent orange. The air smelt faintly of sulphur. As Anya watched, the light moved away from the god’s hands and held position a little ahead of them. Pan observed his work like a potter reviewing clay on the wheel. The god muttered words Anya did not understand, and rotated his hands. The light formed a rectangle the size of a door, splitting away in the centre to form a frame through which the forest looked different from the trees around him. This new section of forest had no felled trees, no sign of fire and looked like the ancient, giant oaks of the Tream city.
‘Go now,’ said Pan, his voice strained and the cords of his neck standing out like the rigging of a ship. ‘I do not know how long I can hold this.’
Akyar put Meyr through first. He glanced back at Vedic and Anya. Anya felt a little pull in her gut as she watched her friend step through the magic and disappear. Pan let out a sigh and dropped his hands. She was about to ask if he was still going when the frame of magic folded in and dragged Pan through it. She stared at the empty space.
‘He usually dismounts better than that,’ said Vedic.
Anya laughed.
The ghost of a smirk crossed Vedic’s face as he looked up at the setting suns casting the forest in the shadows of fires. This made Anya think of pyres. She pushed the thought far away.
‘We should get going,’ said Vedic. ‘It’ll be dawn before we reach the glade, and if the wolves are loose again, we may need to take to the trees.’
Anya nodded. She felt tired in her bones and had hoped for a fire at least, but there was no time. The alignment was at most one night away. She trudged off after Vedic.
‘So, do you think we can find any other gods who can help us?’
Vedic shook his head. ‘The older ones, those who the Shaanti use in everyday language, they may be able to reform, but Cernubus seems to know what he’s doing when it comes to killing them.’
Anya clutche
d her arms round herself, half longing for the moment the walking warmed her up and half dreading the further exhaustion that would come with it. She hadn’t slept in ages now, and she was too weary to guard her words.
‘What about the stone god?’
Vedic glanced at her. ‘I doubt he would be much help, even if he existed.’
‘Why?’
‘It’s hard to imagine a more bloodthirsty creature,’ said Vedic. ‘The Kurah, when they followed him, they worshipped the stone and the desert. They believed the rock took blood and gave life to those who sacrificed. That is why they do not usually take prisoners.’
‘You’re from Kurah,’ said Anya, ‘aren’t you?’
Vedic did not look at her. ‘Pan. He told you.’
‘Yes,’ said Anya. ‘But it’s not just that. The cave, the ghost who spoke, he was from Kurah – that was the accent – and when you swear … that’s Kurah as well, although I don’t recognise the dialect.’
Vedic swore in Kurah.
Anya laughed. ‘It doesn’t matter. You clearly don’t agree with them any more.’
Vedic stayed silent. The forest was dark and there was no moon. They had to slow their progress to avoid tripping or being struck by errant branches.
‘I thought perhaps you had been the stone god once,’ said Anya.
Vedic laughed. A surprisingly good noise despite the fact it was directed at Anya, and she found herself laughing alongside him.
‘Oh, lassie, Pan would be rolling on the ground if he heard that.’
Anya pushed her companion gently. ‘Come on, forestal. I know what I need to know. Let’s get to the glade.’
‘Oh, and what’s that?’
Anya looked back at him. ‘That you’re not a nice man.’
Vedic’s smile faded.
She added, ‘We don’t need you to be nice to Cernubus.’
Vedic nodded. ‘No chance of that.’ He stopped dead. He looked as if he were listening to something.
‘What’s wrong?’
The woodsman dropped down to his knees, his sword drawn. Anya followed his lead as he moved forward slowly, with his blade ready.
‘There is a creature ahead of us.’
In the distance, maybe two hundred yards away, a pair of eyes flickered faint orange with reflected light from the sentinels.
It’s got to be a wolf, thought Anya, her hand reaching for her sword.
Vedic gently stopped her and shook his head.
‘Not a wolf,’ he said. ‘Too small.’
‘What is it, then?’
‘Something else.’
Gripping his sword tighter in one hand, Vedic moved closer to the eyes. The creature was considerably smaller than the wolves. Barely bigger than a medium-sized dog. The animal moved closer on seeing Vedic approach. The woodsman stopped. This was not the behaviour he expected. The creature continued its slow approach towards them.
‘What is it?’ asked Anya, making Vedic – who had not heard her – jump. ‘Is it a dog?’
‘No. It’s a …’ said Vedic, leaning closer. ‘I’ll be damned …’
Emerging from the bushes was a small, bloodied and bedraggled-looking infant deer. Anya couldn’t understand why Vedic was reacting to the fawn like he had seen a ghost, or why he was trying to encourage the creature closer to him. She’d never seen him like this with animals.
‘What? It’s just a fawn.’
‘Anya,’ said Vedic, looking up at her as the fawn drew close to his hand. ‘You owe this fawn your life.’
Anya looked from Vedic to the fawn and back again.
‘I thought you said that was Pan.’
‘I was wrong,’ he said. The woodsman held out his hand. ‘I assumed the curse came from Pan’s spell, but I’ve seen this little chap before on the day you came into my life and this was done to my arm. I think this fellow has come from Danu, or someone who wants to help her. We may have another ally.’
The fawn approached Vedic’s outstretched digits, sniffing them suspiciously for a few moments. The deer ran his head along the woodsman’s fingers, Vedic scratching the creature behind the ears.
‘You seem to have made a new friend,’ Anya said.
‘Yes,’ he said, rubbing the ugly scar on his arm. ‘Rather different from our first meeting.’
‘Wonder why he’s here now,’ said Anya, sitting back down.
‘Yes,’ said Vedic, watching as the fawn looked at Anya. It walked towards her, stopped, stamped his hoof and turned his head towards the darkness. He repeated the movement.
‘You want to be alone with Vedic?’ asked Anya, confused.
The fawn shook his head. The creature walked towards her, nudged her, came back, nudged Vedic, then turned towards the darkness again, stamping his foot and snorting as best he could.
‘He’s offering to lead the way,’ said Vedic.
‘Why?’
‘Because Danu must be in danger,’ said Vedic, tightening his pack. ‘We have to go. Now.’
‘Because of a fawn?’
Vedic nodded.
‘You’re mad,’ she said, checking her sword.
They followed the fawn into the inky black of the forest and towards the lake that led to the glade. The lack of wind allowed the sound of the water lapping against the shore to float over the forest to them, growing ever louder as they drew closer. They walked until the suns began to poke over the edge of the world, setting the horizon alight and casting the forest in the first tawny shadows of daylight.
The mud was soft against Danu’s cheek.
The goddess lay, bruised and bleeding, on the ground of her cage while Cernubus watched her from where he sat on a fallen tree. It was hard to say who felt them arrive first. Danu’s hands clenched involuntarily as the earth spilled its secrets: the familiar wave of wrongness coupled with the excitement of the woodsman’s presence on the island once more. She could feel Vedic’s familiar footfall, the belief pouring from him into the ground like the most potent wine.
Cernubus stood, grabbing his spear from the ground.
‘It seems your pet is as stupid as he looks.’
Danu did not say anything. She pushed herself to a seated position, cast her hair back from her face as best she could and wiped the blood from her mouth. Cernubus sneered.
‘You’re preening yourself for him.’ He gave her a look of disdain.
‘No,’ she answered. ‘I am not.’
Cernubus removed his outer robe, dropping it to the ground; he stood in a tunic, cut off at the sleeves, and a pair of loose cloth trousers. Gently he swung the spear in a few looping parabolas that terminated in thrusts.
Danu watched, her face a mask. At least, she thought, Vedic is skilled enough to avoid his magic.
‘The Kurah king doesn’t know he’s still alive, does he?’ she said, seeking to draw his attention once more.
‘What?’ asked Cernubus, ceasing his drills.
‘Your friend, the king – he doesn’t know that Vedic is alive, does he?’
Cernubus did not reply.
‘I thought not,’ she said, returning her gaze to the glade.
Chapter Twenty-Nine
‘I can do this alone,’ said Vedic. ‘If you want.’
Anya flinched. They were crawling through the wasteland of the glade; the lush undergrowth they had walked through on climbing onto shore had quickly dropped away to ashen remains, reminiscent of Golgotha. The fawn was dashing from stump to stump ahead of them, trying to keep itself low and out of sight. Beyond the tangled weave of fallen trees, they could just make out the shimmering light that had been fashioned into a prison cell: magic burned through the shape, creating a haze of heat. Everything smelt of ash and stale wood smoke.
‘Dreams,’ whispered Anya, stopping. Her mother’s voice was as clear now as in Golgotha, though the tone was changing. Courage, child.
‘What?’
‘I’ve been having nightmares ever since I escaped. I wasn’t sure at first what I was seeing, but I
think I know now. That bastard’s been invading my dreams for weeks. I thought it was just my imagination, and then I thought it might be … someone else … but it’s him. Cernubus must be the one: torn cities, ritual sacrifice, battles, you name it – he’s sent all that shit my way, to try and destroy my mind with what he is doing outside the forest. No, Vedic, I can’t sit this one out. You can’t imagine what he’s done.’
Vedic stared at her. He looked like he was about to speak, but then he changed his mind. She drew her sword. She thought of the warrior she had killed. She thought of Fin.
‘And the thing is, I’m not nice either.’
Vedic smiled, although it did not reach his eyes. ‘Onwards, then?’
She nodded.
‘You might as well come out,’ called Cernubus. The god’s voice was low. It settled somewhere in the back of Anya’s skull and vibrated.
Swords drawn, they stepped into the light.
Cernubus did not bother to raise his spear in any kind of defensive posture. They walked, blinking, weapons raised towards him and with enough distance between them to swing.
The god stood resting against his weapon – his pose as nonchalant as his face. Anya felt his eyes on her briefly in the way a person might glance at an ant before moving on. She sought out the cage, the figure wavering like a mirage beyond, the heat of the magic failing to mask the goddess in its captive grasp.
The Morrigan sat in the cage, staring back at her, except she wasn’t the Morrigan. Anya knew that instinctively, despite the striking resemblance, and as her eyes trawled for evidence as to why, she noticed the upturn of the goddess’s mouth, a stark contrast to her sister. Danu’s dreads fell lower; her chin was narrower; and her clothes had never been black – they were a brown-tinged green or had once been before she’d been beaten. Her left eye was swollen; her lower lip was split; and bruises lined her arms and legs. The goddess smiled at her.
Anya felt herself grin back. Her spine tingled. Anya thought this might be a little like how she had imagined meeting her mother. She had never known her mother – the woman had left long before her first memories began – but that didn’t stop her imagining what it would be like. The goddess smiled at her as if nothing else in the forest existed, showing a warmth and love that was meant for no one else but Anya alone, and asking nothing in return. The goddess’s gaze was like going home and not realising you’d missed it until the moment you walked in again. Anya’s body fizzed with pleasure. Her eyes blinked back tears, and all she wanted to do was to have the goddess put her arms around her and tell her everything would be fine.