The words stung Church as he began to understand their deeper meaning. 'The murder of my girlfriend, Marianne-?'
'Necessary.'
'Being torn apart from Ruth and hurled back in time, having to fight my way back to her, seeing her torn between Veitch and me?'
'All necessary. All part of the shaping of the hero… the king… who will save the land.'
'The Libertarian?'
There was a long pause before the rich, deep voice continued, 'There is always a risk. Death is a powerful catalyst. The experience of it shapes the soul, but its potency can sometimes lead to corruption and despair. The other factors in the transmutation should mitigate against that — love, friendship, support — but in the final account, the landscape of a human heart, and a human mind, is unmappable.'
'So I could still ruin all your careful planning?'
'The fate of everything rests with you, Jack Churchill.'
'Shavi was right. The pattern…' Church said to himself, his head spinning as he tried to accept the weight of what he was being told. 'How much has been manipulated?'
'Everything, in every life. Sometimes Fragile Creatures make choices against the direction of the plan, choices with unforeseen but enormous consequences, and other changes must be made to reaffirm the pattern.
'But, essentially, everything. Everybody plays a part. The person they choose to hurt, the one they choose to help. The work they do, the things they create, the words they pass on, which then get passed on to others. Everything.
'The pattern materialises in seemingly random events and coincidences, in ancient tales and contemporary stories and music and works of art. In the patterns in nature, the patterns on the landscape, the patterns men make in life. Numbers are key. The hand of Existence is clear if one only looks with care.'
'But we always dismiss it,' Church said. 'The human brain has evolved from the earliest time to see patterns in everything, but we dismiss it as a quirk, a throwback, in the same way we dismiss random events and connections as coincidences.'
'There are no coincidences.'
His thoughts raced. 'The legends, the old stories, are the key to the pattern. The king shaped by events to be a great hero, who waits in some symbolic under-hill to be called back in the world's darkest hour, with his knights, to beat the forces of darkness. The king who represents both a man and the Blue Fire. The same story repeated over and over in different legends, even in modern religions in a slightly different form. There's the pattern in its biggest form. There's… me.'
'You are the legend. You are at the heart of the pattern.'
Church looked into the woman's face, and then into the shimmering features of the Fabulous Beast, and was convinced he saw a glimmer of something important that was unspoken. 'If this was all the creation of a dying brain, then I would be the heart of the pattern — because I created everything. I'd be the true god of this world.'
'What is life, what is death? What is real, what is not?'
Church could see he wasn't going to get anywhere with that line of questioning. 'And this pattern that's been building… it's designed to overthrow the Void?'
'Yes.'
'And it began… when?'
'At the beginning. And it will end at the end.'
Deep in the lake of Blue Fire, the dark shapes swam closer, some large, some small.
'Tell me,' he began, 'how the pattern developed. Then maybe I can work out how it's going to end.'
'In the beginning, tiny shards of Existence were placed in every Fragile Creature. Hidden in plain sight from the Devourer of All Things. These sparks, in some, would eventually fan into the blue blaze of the Pendragon Spirit.'
'And in everyone, over time,' Church added. 'That's part of the Gnostic secret… and the key to humanity reaching the next level. That's why the Tuatha De Danaan were so afraid we would equal, then surpass them.'
'Fragile Creatures gradually ascended, shaped by their experiences, and the spark inside them flickered into a flame, still beyond the perception of the Devourer of All Things. Forged by the many challenges in the crucible of life, the Pendragon Spirit became stronger, and Fragile Creatures became stronger and more able to face the demands that would be made of them.'
'Existence set everything going from the start,' Church realised. 'The good and the bad. A cascade of events, each one impacting on the next.'
The woman smiled.
'Everyone has been manipulating everyone else — the Tuatha De Danaan and the Fomorii manipulating humanity. But you and the Void were manipulating them, and us, and each other. Nothing is clear. It's all movements in the fog, and you only find out the consequences much later.' He considered this. 'The Tuatha De Danaan used the Fomorii so that the Brothers and Sisters of Dragons would bring about the Golden Ones' return. And the Fomorii god Balor was supposed to stop humanity rising up the ladder. But… but… because we got involved, Shavi ended up getting killed and Veitch went to the Grim Lands to bring him back, and that break in the rules of the universe attracted the attention of the Void. And brought it back here. And that's exactly what you wanted!' His thoughts raced away with him, and he had to steady himself. 'Existence arranged for the Brothers and Sisters of Dragons to play a part in all of this, and you directed the Tuatha De Danaan behind the scenes because you wanted the Fall to happen.'
'The Fall removed your Brothers and Sisters of Dragons from the heart of the pattern so that a new Five could arise, who would also play a vital part. Mallory, Caitlin, Hal, Hunter and the Forgotten One, brought together with particular skills so they could operate, for a time, beyond the perception of the Devourer of All Things. So they could bring their peculiar skills to this time, this fight, at the End.
'This was all present, right from the start. The Golden Ones had legends of this happening. So did humanity. The final pattern was fully formed at the beginning, and embedded in everything, from the smallest part to the greatest. There to be discovered-'
'If you only had eyes to see,' he repeated. 'So, right back in the Iron Age… me setting up the Brothers and Sisters of Dragons, the rise of the Culture, who are here now, protecting this site, and you, the formation of the Watchmen… you directed all that, with a subtle push here and another there.' His proximity to the reservoir of Blue Fire soothed him, but there was still a dull spike in his gut. 'All the pain we suffered, all that terrible heartache, you caused that. Indirectly or not.'
'To a definite end.'
'That doesn't make it any easier!' Steadying himself, he tried not to think of all the awful things he had gone through to become the force that Existence wanted. It felt so unfair. He could have lived a quiet life, untouched by strife, lived and died and left no mark by his passing, but he could have been content.
'Is being content enough?' the woman said, reading his mind. 'In the final reckoning, do you judge the value of your life by what you had, or by what you could have had?'
His head knew the answer; his heart dragged him in another direction.
'That is the eternal dichotomy of the Fragile Creature,' the woman said perceptively. 'The curse and the gift.'
'What happens at the end, when we can all see the final pattern?'
'That is up to you.'
'How did I guess?' he said bitterly. For a moment, the ringing cavern was filled only with the faint hiss of the flickering Blue Fire, and then Church said, 'I came here to take you to the Far Lands with me.'
'And I have been waiting for you to come for me, Brother of Dragons. We are joined, inextricably, for all-time-to-come, and all-time-gone.'
'Then let's go.' His thoughts were still swimming, but everything that had been planned for so long was so close to a resolution that he could put his doubts and fears to one side. It all came down to him; whether he was capable of navigating what lay ahead, whether he had learned enough; and whether he was prepared to make the final sacrifices that would be demanded of him.
Church strode from the cavern. Behind him, he could hear the tor
nsailcloth sound of wings, growing louder, not just one pair, but more, and more joining every second until the sound was deafening, and the cavern shook.
Emerging into the summery night in the moon-shadow of the ancient stones, Church was surprised to find the Morvren waiting for him in an eerie crescent of blue-black feathers, unmoving, every beady eye fixed upon him. They had always appeared as a portent, following him in a detached manner. This was different. As he looked around the semicircle, he felt a similar connection to the one he had experienced in the cavern. They were a part of him now, this symbol of death joining him at the same time as he had raised the spirit of life. Two sides, two faces.
'I am the Raven King,' he said, quietly. 'I can do anything.'
He smiled. The heavy beat of a different kind of wings grew louder far behind him, tearing out of the hidden caverns of the soul and into the harshness of the real world. Underneath his feet, the Blue Fire surged into the land. It was now so powerful in the leys that he could see it glowing through the grass.
Battle had been declared.
7
'Bleedin' hell! Would you look at that!' Veitch pointed beyond the circle of campfire light to the wild, dark countryside beyond. A swarm of spiders seethed towards the celebrations and Stonehenge. But they had come to a halt in a vast arc around the ancient sacred complex, swirling around an invisible wall that sent them spilling in all directions as they searched for ingress.
'The Blue Fire's holding them at bay.' Tom's faint smile was lit by the hot coal of his roll-up. 'And that's not all — look.'
The reignited leys burned across the landscape, and where they crossed the stream of spiders there were flashes of blue light as the spiders burst into flames.
'Never seen that before,' Veitch said in awe.
'Neither has the Army of the Ten Billion Spiders.' Ruth had arrived behind them. Veitch and Tom could both see she was changed in some way they couldn't quite define; she appeared to be carrying a great weight. 'This place is crackling with power, like it was before the Mundane Spell took effect. The spiders have lost their grip.'
'Yeah!' Veitch said. 'This is our turf now!'
'Don't get too wound up,' Tom said. 'Every time you have reignited the power in the land, the Spiders have changed everything to reinforce the Mundane Spell and drive the Blue Fire back into a dormant phase.'
'This is still different,' Ruth said. 'It's never been this strong. Something has changed.'
'This is what we're fighting for,' Veitch said. 'This. Here. Now.'
They were interrupted by a breathless Shavi. 'Laura has gone.'
'She's probably just on the lash with that homebrew alcohol this lot are swilling.' Veitch jerked a thumb towards the revellers singing loudly amongst the huts.
'I do not think so.' Shavi appeared devastated.
'What's wrong?' Ruth slipped a comforting arm around his shoulders.
'She was last seen walking back towards the Warp Zone. I am afraid… I am afraid she has gone to warn the Enemy of our plans. I am afraid she was the traitor amongst us.' He wiped away a stray tear.
'Nah!' Veitch said. 'She's a bitch, all right. But a traitor — no chance. Her heart was always in the right place. She'd never sell us out.' He could see Shavi, Ruth and Tom were not convinced.
'What's Church going to think?' Ruth said. 'If she has done it, I mean. Betrayed by someone we all put our faith in, someone Church was once really close to.'
'Does it destroy hope in the Pendragon Spirit?' Tom asked. 'Does it breed despair? Hope is what keeps the spirit alive.'
Before they could consider it further, the night was torn by the thunder of wings. An awed silence fell across the camp as all eyes turned to the sky. Glimmering in the moonlight, the Fabulous Beasts moved steadily towards the Warp Zone, their scales glinting like jewels, occasional bursts of golden liquid-fire illuminating the land beneath them.
'He did it,' Tom said, smiling to himself.
'Bloody hell.' Veitch's strained voice reflected the wonder that was heavy in all their faces.
'Yes,' Ruth said. 'Yes.'
'This is it.' Veitch grinned broadly. 'This is where we take the fight back to the bastards!'
Chapter Ten
Towards The Fortress
1
In the dead heat, a stifling desolation choked the blasted lands. The dry, ochre dust of the hardpan licked up to jagged rocks and dead, twisted trees reaching blackened hands towards the bleached sky. In the craters, pools of foul-smelling, rainbow-streaked oil attracted clouds of fat, lazy flies, droning constantly.
This was the land that the Void had built.
Just visible through the haze hanging in the distance was a structure so large that at first it appeared to be a part of the landscape, a soaring bluff stretching across the whole length of the horizon, its brown granite charred here and there by great fires. Above it, black birds swirled like gulls scavenging a refuse tip. But as the eye adjusted to the perspective, jarring details emerged in opposition to natural law: disturbing angles, unsettling proportions, materials with the gleam of plastic or metal, or the sickly resilience of meat; and the birds could not be birds: much larger than any known living creature, their scavenging took on a menacing air.
It was the Fortress of the Enemy, known by some as the House of Pain, a complex as large as a city, constantly under construction, with no end in sight as it crept relentlessly across the landscape exuding a potent atmosphere of black depression. For all its artifice, there was still a sense that in some way it was alive.
The Burning Man towered above, black smoke pothering from the flaming outline.
Scrambling down the scree of a steep hillside, the first sight of the Fortress brought Church, Ruth, Shavi, Veitch and Tom to a sudden halt. They told themselves it was the imposing sight that affected them so deeply, and tried to ignore the unsettling alien whispers that insinuated into the back of their heads.
'Big.' Veitch shielded his eyes against the sun. What he didn't say told them more about his feelings.
'Swarming with Lament-Brood, Redcaps and God knows what else,' Ruth said. 'I mean, how many of them must be inside a building that size? Are we expected to fight past every one?'
'Yes, go right up and knock on the door,' Tom said tartly.
'Virginia could have shown us the secret path into the Fortress,' Church noted, 'but she's not here so we've got to find another way. We know the path exists. If we could find it-'
Tom snorted derisively. 'Stumble across it, perhaps.'
Veitch flinched, and Church steadied him with a subtle nod. 'Whatever, if Laura is in there, they'll be ready for us.'
He felt the skitter of quick glances upon him. He knew why: he could barely believe Laura had betrayed them, and the more he allowed the concept to settle upon him, the more despairing he felt. They needed to be Five united as One for the Pendragon Spirit to be most effective. Every new development destabilised them a little further, causing fissures to spread throughout relationships he had considered solid. He felt the hand of the Libertarian upon it — sickeningly, his own hand. He had underestimated his alter ego's capability for subtlety: the brash, theatrical exterior of the Libertarian had been a distraction, and now looked clever and carefully designed.
They skidded down the remainder of the scree and raised clouds of sticky yellow dust as they trudged across the hardpan towards the Fortress. After ten minutes, Shavi brought them to a halt.
'Movement,' he whispered, subtly indicating a crumbling rock formation that resembled a finger pointing at the sky.
'That eye's a bloody good deal, mate,' Veitch said.
Veitch and Church kicked up a large cloud of dust, which allowed Veitch the cover to approach the rock on the blindside of where Shavi had seen the movement. When he disappeared behind the outcropping, they waited for the sound of a fight, but within a few seconds Veitch was hailing them from a ledge on the side of the rock.
They found him with his arm around a ruddy-faced Brothe
r of Dragons with a thatch of wiry blond hair, who was grinning broadly. John Baker was a seventeenth-century farmhand. Church had discovered him lifting a cart to mend a broken wheel, a remarkable feat of strength that was matched only by the depth of his good humour.
'Never thought I'd see the day,' he said in a broad Cornish accent.
'The rest of the Army of Dragons is here,' Veitch said.
'Ar, what's left of 'em.' The grim note in Baker's voice was quickly replaced by the grin. 'I've been out on patrol for a day and night. Orders were to find you and bring you in, but we were afraid you'd already gone inside there, and that'd be the last we'd see of you.'
'We wouldn't leave you out of the fun,' Veitch said. 'Let's go and get everybody tooled up. This is where it all kicks off.'
2
An expanse of rocks, dust and haze gave way suddenly to a colourful camp as they passed through the boundary of the glamour. With a pang of regret, they saw it was smaller than they had hoped, but the cheers that rose up the instant they were seen wiped away any dismal thoughts for a while.
A knot of about ninety Brothers and Sisters of Dragons were suddenly swallowed by a significantly larger crowd of jostling gods, the commotion quickly devolving into a number of fights and arguments. Church was pleased to see Lugh, a wan smile lighting a face that had grown too grim.
He shook Church's hand heartily. 'Welcome back, Brother of Dragons. I knew you would not be deterred from your mission.'
'How are your people?'
'Less than a tenth of the army survive. The Court of the Soaring Spirit was destroyed. Many fled. How many survive across the Far Lands, I do not know.'
Destroyer of Worlds kots-3 Page 33