'Then let's get moving. I want my hands around Callow's throat and I want it now.'
With Caitlin's arms tied around Tannis's chest to prevent her slipping, and with Mallory behind Etain, they set off into the mist. After a mile or so, a gentle, stony incline gave way to a steaming, foul-smelling marsh, the brackish water gleaming with oily rainbows. Here Etain slowed her mount to pick a careful course along grassy ridges bordered by thick yellow reeds. Occasionally lights glimmered briefly away in the mists.
'What are they?' Mallory asked. The mood had become even more oppressive.
'Ignore them,' Etain responded. 'Trapped here are the spirits of those who dedicated themselves to work instead of humanity. They are as jealous and bitter as anything else in the Grim Lands, and they would like nothing more than to entice you into the sucking bog.'
Bubbles burst intermittently on the surface of the pools. 'Deep?'
'Bottomless. And filled with razor-worms that will feed on your flesh and bones for eternity.'
Mallory studied her for a while and tried to imagine what she had been like when she was alive. 'I'm betting you'd rather be with Veitch than here with me.'
'His affections have turned to another. And why should he not find interest in one of his own rather than a dead thing?' she added pointedly. 'Here he was king, worshipped by the inhabitants of the Grim Lands because he understood them. And he cared. Because he has died, and returned.'
'That's not as rare as you might think.'
'He understands what it is like to be an outsider.'
'You're saying that's a good enough motivation to follow him into a life…' He paused, couldn't think of a better phrase: 'Of mass-murder?'
'I would follow him to the end of the world.'
'Which is pretty much where we are.'
'He is a good man, whatever you might think of him. But he is as flawed as all mortal beings, and sometimes flaws get the better of us. Of you. It is a constant battle, and judgement should not come easy.'
'We judge ourselves. And we do what we can to make amends for our failings, even when there isn't a hope in hell of righting the balance.'
'You speak from experience.'
Mallory didn't respond.
Pointing to the path ahead, Etain said, 'The one you call Callow has passed this way, and recently. We will soon be upon him.'
'Good.' Mallory glanced back, half-expecting to see the Hortha close behind. 'Sometimes you can run as much as you want and never get away,' he said to himself.
They rode in silence for another fifteen minutes while Mallory cast an uneasy eye towards the swamp. Every now and then he thought he saw things moving in the black water.
Eventually, they came to a halt. For several minutes Tannis searched the narrow paths amongst the pools before returning to the group. 'The trail has faded,' he said.
'I thought you said you could track anything,' Mallory protested.
'We can, given time. Sometimes the trail can be lost, but by careful scrutiny of the surrounding area it can be located again.'
'We haven't got that kind of time.' Frustrated, Mallory jumped down and paced the area of solid ground until Caitlin summoned him over.
'We'll find him,' she said hoarsely. Some of her strength had already returned.
'Before he destroys Hal? This is all my fault. Why did I trust him?'
'We both trusted him. Don't blame yourself.'
'He hurt you-'
'I'll be fine.'
'Your face…' Mallory traced the line of the wound across her cheek beneath the dressing Branwen had applied.
Caitlin grabbed his hand and held it tight. 'A battle scar. There's a part of me that will enjoy having that.'
In her eyes, Mallory saw a deep shadow start to grow.
'She's coming, Mallory,' Caitlin said quietly. 'And she's not going to see a sister treated so badly. There'll be a price to pay, trust me on that.'
The shadow filled Caitlin's eyes and moved out into her face. The Morrigan smiled.
2
Deep in the heart of the forbidding swamplands, Callow finally paused and removed the lantern from inside his jacket. He was afraid of retribution — his knowledge of the persistence of Brothers and Sisters of Dragons was extensive — but he was filled with an eager glee for his own retribution.
Sitting cross-legged next to the soupy water, he examined the Wayfinder's blue flame. 'Oh, the wonder of it all — a genie in the lamp, and a Brother of Dragons to boot. Can you hear me, little man?' He roughly rattled the lantern in front of his face. 'Sadly, I am a mortal like any other, and prone to the melancholies of all men. And yes, the desire for a touch of revenge for being so badly treated. And I have been, oh, how I have been! During that terrible Age of Misrule I was manipulated… possibly brutally coerced… into helping those misshapen monsters, the Fomorii.
'And did the Brothers and Sisters of Dragons forgive and forget? Did they respond to my plight, and offer a friendly hand in answer to my humble admission of my wrongs and my plaintive desire for redemption? No. They punished me, and brutalised me, and eventually took my sad, sad life. And these are Champions of Existence! How ironic. It is through their cruel machinations that events have conspired to keep me trapped in this hideous place.' He paused slyly. 'Or should I say your machinations? It is unfortunate that you will have to pay the price for their sins.'
Callow did an excited jig before calming himself. 'Now how should I do it? Fling the lantern into one of these sucking pools and watch it disappear for ever? Then you would understand the kind of purgatory I have experienced for so long. Or should I smash it and watch the flame flicker and die?' He considered this for a moment, and smiled triumphantly. 'I think that would set my world alight.'
Drawing one of the many razor blades he had secreted about his person, he attempted to carve his name into the lantern, but he could make no mark on the shiny surface and the razor blunted within seconds. He tossed it angrily into the water where something snapped and spat.
'I was just a humble knight of the road when I met that overinflated Pecksniff Jack Churchill,' he muttered to himself. 'No harm to man nor beast. Lover of the byways, lover of people, a helping hand to all I met on my way. And look what he did to me.'
Callow laid the Wayfinder on the ground, took a running jump and slammed both booted feet upon it. A peal of thunder was accompanied by a fizz of blue sparks. He repeated the assault three times before examining it again. The lantern was dented and the glass on one side was cracked.
'Once more,' he muttered. 'This may well look like a lantern, but I know its true shape is different from what I see. Yet here in the Grim Lands it is as vulnerable as anything from the places where the living roam. Yes, I think once more will do. I'll say goodbye to you now, oh genie. Enjoy the great hereafter.'
Laying the lantern down once again, he paced out a long run-up and then, with a grim smile, hurled himself at the Wayfinder. At the point when Callow hung above the lantern, a column of Blue Fire engulfed him and hurled him back to the edge of the swamp water. Callow let out a high-pitched, shocked scream.
It was only when he picked himself up that he realised the flames were cold, and had done little more than propel him away.
'So it's a fight you want,' he said, drawing up his sleeves. 'We'll see how long you can keep that up in this place.'
3
The blue flash lit up the swamplands even through the mist, followed closely by the echo of Callow's scream across the black water.
Caitlin broke off her examination of the myriad paths through the swamp and removed the axe from its harness on her back. Etain, Tannis, Owein and Branwen were already climbing into their saddles as Mallory growled, 'With any luck, something's eaten him.'
'That flash — it was Blue Fire,' Caitlin said coldly.
Mallory didn't respond.
Another blue flash filtered through the mists, but this time it was accompanied by a shout of gleeful anger.
Callow was so engrossed
in his vigorous attempts to destroy the lantern that he didn't hear their approach until the last. With a girlish shriek, he booted the lantern towards the deep water and ran.
Diving at full run, Mallory's fingertips skimmed the Wayfinder before it splashed into the depths, spinning it upwards where it threatened to escape him again. Scrabbling wildly, he eventually snagged it and hugged it to his chest.
'Sorry, Hal,' he whispered. 'I won't let you out of my grasp again.'
With powerful strides, Caitlin caught up with Callow in seconds, brutally kicking his legs out from under him. His frightened pleas quickly turned into sly attempts to explain his actions, but when he saw the dark fury in Caitlin's eyes his voice faded away.
'I bleed, you don't,' she said, 'so how do I get my revenge against a dead thing?' She pressed the blade of her axe against his face. 'I could chop you into tiny chunks, but would there be any conscious thought left in them to suffer?'
'Being in this place is suffering enough, m-m-m-ma'am,' Callow stuttered.
'But it doesn't make me feel any better. Where's the justice in that? Where's the lesson learned?'
'Please,' Callow called out to Mallory, 'have a heart! I made a mistake, that's all. You are Brothers and Sisters of Dragons. You celebrate all that is good about life.'
Distractedly, Mallory polished the lantern. 'True. But unluckily for you we're not Church's group. They've got compassion in spades. Existence brought us together with specific qualities in mind. They're the good guys. We're the hard bastards.' He gave Callow a brutal smile. 'All except Hal, and I'm betting he's not feeling very sympathetic towards you right now.'
Callow let out a small whimper. Caitlin dragged him to Etain and retrieved a rope from her saddle. His searing cries echoed across the entire swamp as Caitlin bound his wrists tightly behind his back, looped the rope around his ankles, then threw the other end over the branch of one of the spindly trees overhanging the swamp. With a jerk, she whipped Callow's feet out from under him and suspended him an inch above the water, where snapping shapes swam hungrily just beneath the surface.
He cried and pleaded until his throat was raw, and when he finally stopped, Caitlin said, 'I think the best thing would be to leave you here where you can't do any more harm. With a few friends for company.'
Another jerk of the rope plunged Callow's head into the water up to the bridge of his nose. The water boiled around him as the razor-worms plunged into his eyes and ears, burrowing and eating for what could be eternity.
Half an hour later they could still hear his terrible screams as they made their way out of the swamp and onto a barren plain, once again following the lantern's blue flame.
4
In the hard, silvery gleam of dawn, Decebalus came round deep in the mire of the battlefield. The storm had ended, and a strained quiet lay across the great plain, punctuated by the occasional cry. All around were scattered dismembered corpses of both allies and enemy. It took a second or two for Decebalus's thoughts to flicker into some semblance of cohesion, and then another few seconds to realise he was alive and intact. His first thought was how Seth had been prepared to devastate his own side to achieve a minor advantage.
The remnants of the once-enormous Enemy force trailed across the battlefield towards the city in small pockets, pausing occasionally to slay a survivor. They skirted much of the area where the gods had fought. Decebalus guessed that if he lived, most of the gods would have survived too. Seth would want to achieve his aims before they returned to the fray.
Drawing his strength back into his shaky limbs, Decebalus was gripped by a flash of memory. Keeping low, he desperately searched amongst the fallen, overturning bodies to peer into blood- and mud-stained faces. Finally he located Aula buried under a heap of dismembered Lament-Brood. She was deathly pale, her eyes closed, her blond hair matted with gore. Decebalus muttered a brief prayer before taking her wrist and locating a thready pulse. Relief flooded through him; the Pendragon Spirit would work its magic; she would survive. Bowing his head to her chest, he closed his eyes and remembered Dacia, so far away in time and space. He wished he could have shown Aula the beauty of the forests on a summer's twilight, the great river at dawn with the sun glinting off the water and the smell of a new day rising. Gently, he kissed the back of her hand. So many things unsaid, so many emotions buried deep in his heart that in his rough ways he had never been able to express. But she knew, he was sure.
Kissing her on the lips, he re-covered her with the bodies to protect her from the Enemy's sight. As he prepared to crawl towards the city, he caught sight of a small group of Redcaps moving his way, emitting their deep, throaty growl as they tore chunks of flesh off dead limbs. If he stood and fought, it would attract other enemies to him, and he would not last a moment, but there was no way he could escape the Redcaps' advance without being seen.
Crawling on his belly, he rounded a larger pile of corpses to find better shelter where he could gather his thoughts. Nearby, two Brothers of Dragons slumped together, bleeding heavily from fatal wounds. Decebalus had nursed high hopes for both of them: Jim Davey, softly spoken and with Shavi's empathic nature, and Michael Koefman, a messy-haired former musician. Decebalus crawled over to them.
'What kind of thing destroys its own side to get at us?' Blood leaked from the corner of Michael's mouth as he spoke. Neither had long left.
'Something that does not care in the slightest about life,' he replied. 'I have to get to the city before the Enemy's bastards reach the Caraprix. Yet there are Redcaps nearby who will see me when I move…'
He let the words hang. Understanding what he was asking, the two Brothers of Dragons exchanged a fleeting glance of acceptance for their fate, and then Jim said quietly, 'You can count on us.'
'You are good men, both. I will make sure you are remembered.' Decebalus's farewell nod couldn't begin to convey what he truly felt and he crawled away quickly. Not long after he heard them both begin to shout loudly. The roar of the Redcaps followed instantly, and when he heard their savage attack, Decebalus ran for the city.
The remnants of the shattered gates hung raggedly from the twisted hinges. The city beyond was still, the residents cowering in their rooms. At the entrance, Ronnie darted from a hiding place. His wounds were superficial, but his face had a haunted expression as the devastation across the Great Plain ignited memories of his terrible experiences in Flanders during the Great War.
'I was going after that bastard, sir,' he said. 'He's on his way to the palace and the Caraprix.'
'You will not be able to stop him. He is too powerful,' Decebalus said.
'And you will? Excuse me, sir, but we're both of a kind.'
'Not so much, Ronald. You are a better man than me. My experiences have better prepared me for what is necessary.' Decebalus silenced Ronnie's protests. 'I have more important work for you. You must find a way to raise the gods.'
'To help you?'
'No. The game here is almost played. You must leave this place immediately, do you hear me?'
Ronnie looked unsure.
'Do you hear me?' Decebalus gripped Ronnie's shoulders forcefully until Ronnie nodded, unsettled. 'Bring together our own survivors quickly.' He told Ronnie where Aula was hidden, and then added, 'You must strike out for the Enemy Fortress, to offer what support you can to Church and the others. Time is short. Make haste. Do not wait here a moment longer than necessary.'
Decebalus raced through the gates before Ronnie could argue. A brief detour took him to the Hunter's Moon where Crowther and Mahalia waited behind a barricaded door. The teenage girl had been a shadow of herself since Jack's departure, but now her old fire flashed in her eyes.
'Let me help.' She drew the small switchblade she carried with her at all times.
'I have greater work for you two,' Decebalus said. 'You must save an entire city.'
'The Enemy's broken inside?' Crowther asked.
Decebalus nodded. 'Sound the alarm. God knows, we have practised the escape enough times
in recent days. There will be fear, panic. You must show leadership to calm them, and then take them to safety in the foothills. Can I count on you to do this?'
Crowther's heavy-set face glowed; as Decebalus had anticipated, the gift of purpose had brought him alive. 'You can count on us.'
Within moments of Decebalus leaving the inn, the first tolling bell echoed across the silent city, joined soon by another, and then an entire host. People were already creeping from their hiding places as Decebalus ran up the winding cobbled road towards the Palace of Glorious Light, where he could hear the Enemy advancing. His relief freed him to concentrate on the trial ahead.
In the courtyard before the palace, Seth waited with a few ranks of Lament-Brood and Redcaps. The god's head hung to one side as though he was listening, and then he nodded and forced his way through the palace doors.
Once Seth and his troops had entered, Decebalus slipped in behind and followed one of the many secret passages and hidden stairways that would put him ahead of the Enemy. Math's chamber was silent, but Decebalus sensed the sorcerer was near.
He rapped on the door. 'It is I, Decebalus. The time has come.'
The door swung open, though there was no one on the other side. Math waited in an adjoining chamber so gloomy that his presence was only revealed by the glint of his mask as it revolved a quarter-turn.
'This is it, then. The end, or the beginning of it.' Math's voice was a low rumble. 'The Golden Ones always feared that if Fragile Creatures rose up they would destroy what they set out to attain. It is in your nature.'
'Be thankful it is. If Existence was left to your spineless kind, the Void would have wiped us all out long ago, and would now be feasting on our bones. Where is it?'
Math took a step into the shadows and returned holding a small iron casket in the palm of his hand.
'That is it?' Decebalus queried.
'Size is no definer of power.'
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