Destroyer of Worlds

by Mark Chadbourn

  ‘It’s hard to believe everything happens for a reason when you’re wading through life’s little miseries,’ Church snapped.

  ‘That’s the point.’ Tom took out his tin and methodically began to roll himself a smoke.

  ‘One other thing was responsible for our return to the world at this time,’ Matthias continued. ‘The First called to us.’

  Church was shocked. ‘The First called? To you?’ The oldest and greatest Fabulous Beast was the recipient of the full power of the Blue Fire, and Church had been convinced he was the only one who shared a link with it; even then, when his mind intertwined with the Beast’s, he saw with its eyes and felt what it felt, but he never gained any sense of its consciousness. They were always together, and separate.

  ‘We were as astonished as you, Brother of Dragons. We protected the First in the Far Lands when it was most under threat, and during all that time it made no contact with us. Indeed, we thought it was incapable of communication with humans. But it summoned us back here, to this place, to help empower the land, and through that to empower the First. Our ritual today, at the dawning of the Solstice, focused the full force of the Blue Fire in this land on the greatest of the Fabulous Beasts.’

  ‘That’s why I’m here,’ Church said. ‘To take the First back to the Far Lands to help us in the battle.’

  ‘Hmm,’ Tom mused. ‘Do you think there are any coincidences?’

  ‘When all the Brothers and Sisters of Dragons gathered in London, I hid it close to the city so it could make its way here to Stonehenge when the Void was looking elsewhere,’ Church said.

  ‘There is a secret you must know,’ Matthias said. ‘The First has two forms. It is a Fabulous Beast, and it is the purest form of the Blue Fire that speaks through a human avatar. A force for Life, and a force that can be used for destruction, both interconnected. The First told us that this is important. It is a mystery that is also a key to what comes next.’

  ‘You need to think about that,’ Tom said.

  ‘Is that one of your subtle hints?’

  ‘Time is running out for subtlety. I haven’t been able to tell you anything because it’s important you learn all this yourself. We’re never going to get to heaven if you haven’t learned how to find the path.’

  Church was puzzled by Tom’s odd choice of words. It prompted another flash of himself lying on a table being observed, and he rubbed his temples forcefully to drive it away. ‘It’s not all about me,’ he said with irritation.

  ‘Actually, it is. And it always has been.’ The weight of Tom’s gaze upon him was almost unbearable, and so much lay behind it, a sucking vacuum that he had to resist or be lost in it for ever.

  ‘I don’t want to know.’ He stood up suddenly and marched out of the roundhouse and into the crowd where he lost himself physically in the celebration. But he couldn’t escape his thoughts, which increased in gravity during the course of the day until he became filled with dread about what lay ahead. Everything was about survival in the face of the Void, but somehow, in a way that made no sense to him, it was really about even more than that.

  Towards the end of the day, he found Matthias standing beside him as he watched the sun moving down the sky. ‘The mysteries will never be revealed to you. They can only be discovered by your own contemplation, ’ the leader of the Culture said.

  ‘My mystery?’

  ‘All mysteries. We are all stories unfolding. The author, be that your unconscious or some higher power depending on your point of view, will leave clues for you to decipher the meaning beneath the chain of events. But no good author would make everything plain. Revelation is passive and easily forgotten. Discovery is active and imprints on your mind and soul for ever.’

  Breathing in the woodsmoke and the smell of cooking meat, and listening to the sound of jubilant voices, Church realised how much of an outsider he felt. ‘I’ve had enough,’ he said. ‘Of the mysteries. Of the struggle. The heartache. I want it all to end. A happy ending, like they have in the stories.’

  ‘Happiness is found in the strangest places,’ Matthias said. ‘For some people, it can only be felt by seeing it ignited in others.’

  ‘I don’t want to be a hero either.’

  ‘But you are. It is in your nature - you could not be anything else. You have risen above your flaws. You have kept travelling along the road when the obstacles would have driven others to the wayside. As you will keep travelling now, even though you feel this way. Am I right?’

  Church nodded dismally.

  Not far away, Ruth made her way through the crowd, the Spear of Lugh resting jauntily on her shoulder. She looked at peace, and that made Church happy to see. She caught sight of him and came over, giving him a kiss on his cheek as she slipped her arm through his.

  ‘I can’t believe how well the Craft is working for me here,’ she said. ‘I’ve been practising. It makes me feel so alive to use it. If only it was always like that.’

  ‘It’s inversely proportionate,’ Matthias said. ‘If the Mundane Spell is working strongly, using the Craft, getting closer to nature, bringing the Blue Fire alive is harder, if not impossible. The two are different faces, like the Void and Existence, but they’re linked. One pulls one way, the other loses ground, and vice versa. For the majority of human existence on this planet, everything pulled in Existence’s direction, the Blue Fire thrived and humanity was better for it. After the Industrial Revolution, everything changed. The Mundane Spell got a grip on the land, and the Blue Fire went into a long decline. Eventually magic disappeared from the world.

  ‘It was always within the power of humanity to keep the Blue Fire alive, but the Mundane Spell is very seductive. It speaks to the worst instincts of human nature, and good men and women are required to overcome it. People should have taken a stand long ago. They did not. And so the Mundane Spell whispered in the night, and gradually draped on them responsibilities and needs that did not make their lives better, but which seemed at first glance attractive. By the time humanity recognised that, it was too late.

  ‘But that is how the other side has always won. Not by direct confrontation, but by an arm of a “friend” around the shoulder. The foolish, the unthinking, the tired and worn down - they always listen. Only now, as it sees its control ebbing away for good, is the Void turning to destruction.’

  A black cloud passed briefly across the setting sun, swirling up and then back to circle around the camp. The revellers stopped what they were doing and faced the sky as the Morvren settled on the trees all around.

  ‘An omen?’ Matthias said.

  Church felt a shiver of darkness touch his heart. ‘He’s here,’ he said.

  His comment was underlined by a scream rising up on the edge of the crowd.

  ‘The Libertarian will go all out to stop me reaching the First,’ Church said. ‘He knows it could be a turning point.’

  ‘You do what you have to do,’ Ruth said. ‘I’ll round up the others and try to head off the Libertarian.’

  Before she could move, Veitch ran up. ‘That scream - I think it was Rachel. I can’t find her anywhere.’

  ‘She’s under our protection,’ Ruth said. ‘If the Libertarian has hurt her, he’s going to pay.’ She reluctantly dragged her gaze away from Church and left with Veitch before any questions were asked about what she was thinking.

  Church decided he didn’t need to ask; increasingly, they were seeing the Libertarian as him - not as some other character shaped by an as-yet-unrealised crucible, but as him: his thoughts, his motivations, his hatred. And perhaps they were right.

  Matthias grabbed his arm as he made to leave. ‘You must ensure no harm comes to the First, or else all is lost.’

  Church gave his assurance, and then ran off towards the long fingers of twilight reaching across the landscape. Behind him, the sounds of celebration continued unabated, but night was falling fast.

  Chapter Nine

  ICE AND FOG

  1

  Beyond the m
arshes, the Grim Lands reverted to rocky shale for a few miles before the ground descended along a steep slope to a desert of grey dust that had the same texture as ashes. Occasionally, blackened, twisted trees stood in lonely vigilance on the desolate wastes, giving the impression that the entire area had been swept by a massive conflagration that destroyed even the tiniest particle of life.

  ‘Don’t you see,’ Caitlin said to Mallory when he raised this thought, ‘that everything we pass through is just a different symbol of death and decay. I don’t think any of it is real - it’s just what we project onto it.’ Her voice had the clipped tones of the Morrigan, her eyes dark and unblinking as she searched for any threat in the folds of the dense fog.

  Though it was still unmistakably Caitlin, Mallory missed the warmth of his friend when the Morrigan was riding her; he had even grown to miss her separate personalities, as irritating as each of them was in turn. Even calm, the Morrigan cast a frightening shadow; there was always the sense that violence could erupt at any moment.

  Ahead of them, Etain and the other Brothers and Sisters of Spiders roamed through the mist, searching for potential danger. The Wayfinder continued to point its path ahead, but they had no idea if they were any closer to their destination, or if the shifting quality of the Grim Lands would keep them wandering for ever; their own brand of purgatory for the sins they had committed in life.

  And somewhere at their back was the Hortha, never wavering, eternally vigilant, driving forward until he could take their lives; that, too, was part of their personal purgatory, as frightening in symbol as it was in reality.

  There would be no rest for either of them, and only death at the end. Bitterly, Mallory wondered if that was a metaphor for life.

  Cruel fingers of wind plucked up the ashes and swirled around them, stinging their eyes and pitting their faces. Choking, they wrapped handkerchiefs across their mouths and noses, put their heads down and continued in silence for another mile, fighting against even more limited visibility. Howling, the gale increased in intensity the further they advanced, as if attempting to hold them back.

  Thundering hooves brought them up sharply as Etain skidded from the mist to a sudden halt next to them. ‘Do not take another step!’ she yelled.

  The moment she spoke, the wind died and left an eerie silence that reminded Mallory of a just-vacated room. Leaping from her mount, Etain took Mallory and Caitlin’s hands and led them forwards a few feet to the edge of a sheer drop. Plucking a pebble from the ashes, Mallory dropped it into the dense fog. There was no sound of it hitting the bottom.

  ‘The Abyss,’ Etain said.

  Caitlin took the Wayfinder from Mallory and held it aloft. The flame continued to point ahead across the gulf. After exploring in both directions along the edge for several yards, but finding no immediate sign of an end to the drop, he said, ‘This makes no sense.’

  Tannis, Owein and Branwen dismounted and continued to explore while Caitlin and Mallory conferred with Etain. ‘What do we do now?’ she said.

  ‘We never thought it was going to be easy,’ Caitlin said. ‘Whoever, or whatever, took the trouble to hide the Market of Wishful Spirit out here was never going to set up signs for us to find it.’

  ‘So we climb down? That could take for ever,’ Mallory said.

  ‘Everyone in the Grim Lands knows there is no bottom to the Abyss,’ Etain observed.

  ‘So it’s on the other side,’ Mallory said.

  ‘There is no other side. This is the boundary between the Grim Lands and the unknown. Nothing passes beyond this point.’

  ‘Ask Hal,’ Caitlin said.

  ‘The Blue Fire has little strength here. It might weaken him if he has to manifest himself.’ Mallory weighed his options, then peered into the glass panels of the lantern. ‘Hal? You there?’ He glanced at Caitlin. ‘I feel stupid talking to a lamp.’

  Caitlin couldn’t suppress a smile. ‘You telling me your life hasn’t prepared you for that?’

  ‘That’s right - mock me.’ He unhooked the hinge and opened the door that gave access to the wick. The familiar burned-iron odour of the Blue Fire drifted out.

  With a fizz, the flame flickered larger and licked out of the lantern, but there was none of the surging whoosh and crackle of flames that Mallory had experienced before; and Hal was no longer the searing figure of raging fire. He resembled a ghost, so intangible that his form flickered and guttered to reveal the grey dust behind. The only sign of the Blue Fire was a thin halo limning him.

  ‘You survived Callow’s attack,’ Mallory said.

  ‘Just. It took nearly all my reserves. I’m barely hanging on now.’ He gave a wan smile. ‘Not much use to you any more, if I ever was.’

  ‘What happens when the reserves go?’ Caitlin asked.

  He raised his hand and waved almost-fingers gently towards the Abyss. ‘Gone, gone, gone.’ He saw her face fall, and added hastily, ‘Don’t worry, I’m ready for it. The time I’ve spent in the Blue Fire - which to me feels like all-time - has been . . .’ He laughed quietly. ‘There’s no point me trying to explain it. Let’s just say, I’ve seen all there is to see, experienced all that’s on offer and know the answers to every question I ever considered. Even the big ones.’

  ‘A few tips wouldn’t go amiss,’ Mallory said.

  ‘It’d be like cheating in an exam - you’d get banned. All right if you work out the answers for yourself, but no insider dealing.’ Hal’s face grew serious, and a little sad. ‘Don’t worry, Mallory. Really. Don’t worry.’

  ‘Can you help us now?’ Caitlin asked. ‘We can’t see what we’re supposed to do next.’

  ‘Yeah, the Wayfinder flame’s a bit of a blunt tool,’ he replied. ‘I can’t get it to point down.’

  ‘That’s it? We climb down?’

  ‘Not all the way. You’ll see what I mean.’ A crackle like static disrupted Hal’s indistinct form. ‘Not much time left for me.’ The words broke up.

  ‘Then get back in the lantern,’ Mallory said. ‘We’re going to return you to the world.’

  With a nod of thanks and a smile, Hal faded away. Mallory fastened the Wayfinder to his belt before inspecting the drop, and after a few moments’ preparation he eased himself over the edge, feeling for hand- and footholds. Under the deft, fearless control of the Morrigan, Caitlin came next, followed by Etain and the others.

  Progress was slow, and soon Mallory’s joints were aching from the strain of clinging on to the rock face, while reaching out all around to find nooks that would support his weight. From time to time, they had to go back up to take a different route when the footholds disappeared.

  ‘One good thing about this fog, you can’t see the bottom,’ he gasped. ‘Saves me blacking out from the vertigo.’

  After each few feet, Mallory paused and checked the Wayfinder. When they had descended for about half a mile, he realised he had passed the point of no return for his exhausted limbs, but just as he began to worry, the direction of the flame moved from upright to the left. Relieved, Mallory edged horizontally across the cliff face.

  ‘Mallory!’ The timbre of Caitlin’s voice had changed to the rasp of her crone-like Brigid persona. ‘Danger approaches!’

  From deep in the fog, a high-pitched screech emanated. ‘Etain!’ he called out. ‘What threats have got—’

  The words caught in his throat as something swooped out from the fog, passing so close that it ruffled his hair before disappearing in a flash. A bird? he guessed, but he had an after-image of something bone-white and near-skeletal, as big as an eagle.

  Bracing himself, he clung on with one hand and drew Llyrwyn just in time as the thing burst from the fog again. Missing both eyes, what little skin it had was pale and desiccated, wrapped tightly across bones that were visible all over; it looked as if the carcass had been left out in the sun for weeks. With the wild flapping of enormous wings, it attacked him with beak and talons, lunging and snapping, again and again. Mallory lashed out with his sword, but each swing t
hreatened to pitch him off the cliff-face.

  Caitlin arrived behind him just as two more of the bird-creatures emerged from the fog. Balancing so precariously on her toes that Mallory was sure she would fall, Caitlin lashed out with her axe and chopped one of the attackers neatly in two. As it plunged down into the fog, they heard the screech of more arriving.

  Bringing his sword up sharply, Mallory despatched one bird, but the other had dug its talons into his shoulders and was driving its beak into his head as it attempted to tear out his eyes.