Always Forever

by Mark Chadbourn

  "They're going to push us all the way back to Moorgate before we can find somewhere to lie low," Ruth said dismally.

  "Shit!" Veitch looked around like a cornered animal. "We can't waste the-"

  One of the Tuatha De Danann was motioning to a shadowy area on the eastern wall. They hurried over to see a small tunnel wide enough for a couple of people. Veitch dived in to investigate. Less than a minute later he was back, grinning broadly. "It leads to another tunnel. We can hide in there."

  "Haste, then," Nuada said. "They are almost upon us."

  They bustled in as silently as possible. They had barely vacated the Northern Line when they heard the heavy tramp of many feet drawing closer. From the noise and the time it took them to pass, Ruth guessed there must have been at least five hundred, possibly on their way to fight the Tuatha De Danann. She hoped that meant the Fomorii forces they were joining were doing badly.

  At one point, it sounded like the Fomorii were coming down the connecting tunnel so they all hurried several hundred yards away and flattened themselves against the wall, desperately trying to shield their torches. After a couple of minutes, Ruth's pounding heart subsided a little.

  The tunnel had patently not been used for a long time. Most of the tracks had been torn up, and the occasional signs appeared to date back to the earliest days of the tube system in the late nineteenth century. Ancient junction boxes rusted against bricks covered in the white salt of age and damp. Where the rails should have been there were numerous hummocks and rough piles that Ruth guessed were the dust-covered detritus of work on the other tunnel.

  Once all the sounds of the Fomorii had faded away, they relaxed. "God, they smell so bad!" Ruth protested.

  "They are being driven by their Caraprix." Nuada was looking back and forth along the tunnel. "When the Caraprix take an active role in direction it stimulates a powerful aroma."

  "Even in you?" she said acidly.

  "We, of course," he said with a smile, "smell divine."

  They set off back the way they had come, but after they had been walking for five minutes it became apparent to Ruth they had gone past the connecting tunnel in the dark. "We must have missed it," she called out to the others.

  "I didn't see anything," Veitch said, much to Ruth's irritation. "Let's carry on a little way."

  Three minutes later their torches began to illuminate irregular shapes in the distant gloom. "Look, it's a station," Ruth sighed when they were closer. "I told you we'd gone past it."

  Veitch held up his torch to read the sign over the platform. "King William Street?" he said. "Never heard of it."

  "It must be one they don't use any more," Ruth said. "There are quite a few, aren't there? But you're right, I've never heard of this one."

  Veitch's torch illuminated dirty, broken tiles and some torn, peeling posters. One said Light's Out! Another, Loose Lips Sink Ships.

  "Looks like it was used as an air raid shelter in the Second World War," Ruth said.

  "We need more wood," Lugh said. "The torches are burning through quickly."

  "There might be some here," Veitch said. "Send your men in to check."

  Lugh eyed him darkly; this sounded very much like an order, but then he motioned for three of the Tuatha De Danann to investigate.

  "What time do you reckon it is?" Veitch said, leaning against the edge of the platform.

  Ruth shrugged. "My body clock says eleven ... midnight ... Maybe later."

  "We should rest."

  Ruth was glad Veitch had raised it. She felt exhausted, but she was afraid to bring it up herself in case the others thought her weak. Nuada nodded in agreement and passed the information to his followers.

  "We're close enough to spare a couple of hours," Veitch continued. "And we'd be no use to anyone if we turned up at the Big Bastard's door completely knackered."

  "You don't have to convince me." Ruth clambered wearily on to the platform and found a spot against the wall at one end. Behind the windows of an old office she could see the torches of the Tuatha De Danann moving around like lazy fireflies as they searched for wood.

  Nuada, Lugh and the others sat quietly at the other end of the platform, talking in low voices. Ruth was surprised when Veitch sat next to her; he didn't speak, but the fact that he was there was a loud statement. He closed his eyes and was asleep in an instant. Ruth wished she could rest just as easily, but by the time the thought had entered her head she was out.

  She stirred uncomfortably, irritated by the cold surface of the hard platform floor against her behind. As her eyes flickered open when she tried to shift into a more comfortable position, she realised she couldn't have been asleep for very long at all because lights were still moving behind the office windows, beautiful, like a golden snowstorm, lulling her back to sleep.

  She was so tired, enjoying the comfort of rest. Her limbs felt light and airy, after the leaden weight of the long march. Her troubled mind was cocooned in a fuzzy, yellow warmth. Yet as she tried to snuggle back into her pleasant state, she was annoyed to feel something nagging at the back of her mind. With annoyance, she tried to damp it down, but it wouldn't go away. The warmth slipped further away. Finally she realised the only way she was going to get any sleep was to examine it; something about what she had seen.

  She opened her tired eyes again. The platform and track was quiet and still. The Tuatha De Danann sat in close conversation. Veitch was beside her asleep. Nothing out of the ordinary.

  She tried again to get back to sleep, but it was lost to her now. The feelings of alarm wound up a notch. There was something there. What was she missing?

  She looked around once more before settling on the light in the windows. She pulled herself shakily to her feet. Still half asleep, she focused hazily on the light shimmering through the panes. Earlier she had thought of it as fireflies, and now it seemed even more like that. Through her daze it was hypnotic in its dreaminess. Fireflies. No, more like butterflies. And then she had it. At first she felt shock, and then a deep iciness, before she was running along the platform to raise the alarm.

  A face loomed up against the glass, hollow cheeked, contorted with terror, a sight made worse by it being the face of a god. The eyes bulged, pleading with her, with anyone, and then it snapped away as if it was on elastic.

  The clouds of golden moths ebbed and flowed, fluttering against the glass, caught in the torchlight.

  "No more!" Lugh was yelling. "How many Golden Ones must depart this day?" All the Tuatha De Danann looked on in horror, paralysed by the realisation that even away from the field of battle their kind were being wiped from existence in a manner they could never have realised in all their time.

  Veitch powered past Ruth, his sword already out. "No rest for the bleedin' wicked." He levelled a flying kick at the office door. It burst from its hinges.

  The three Tuatha De Danann lay dying on the floor, their bodies slowly breaking up. All around grey shapes flitted, although at first Ruth thought they were shadows cast by the flickering torches that lay where they had fallen.

  While she was transfixed by the activity, Veitch was backpedalling along the floor where he had fallen and then propelled himself to his feet with undue haste, his sword waving in front of him. "Shit," he muttered.

  "What is it?" Ruth asked.

  Four figures burst from the doorway, their mouths held wide in an eerie silent scream, grey like mist, and at times just as insubstantial before there was the faintest shift and they took on a terrifying substance. They moved like light reflected off mirrors; Ruth only had an instant to take in their appearances: all women, beautiful in a haunted way, dressed in shrouds, their hair flying wildly behind them as if they had been caught in a storm. Ruth had a flash of talons like an animal's, of too-long teeth, sharp and pointed, and then they swept by her and she had only a second to throw herself out of the way.

  The talons caught in her hair, ripped out a chunk, but she had avoided being caught; she had evaded those teeth.

&n
bsp; "The Baobhan Sith!" one of the Tuatha De Danann said in fearful awe.

  But Ruth didn't need reminding of the bloodsucking creatures that had attacked them on the lonely Cumbrian hills when Tom had betrayed them.

  "They did have bleedin' guards posted!" Veitch threw himself out of the way of clutching hands, rolled and jumped to his feet. He lashed out with his sword, but it either passed through the creature or the Baobhan Sith avoided the blade so quickly Ruth didn't see it.

  Veitch grabbed her wrist and pulled her out of the way of another of them. He chopped with his sword again. This time the spectral woman became mist as the blade cut through her, reforming as it passed.

  "Christ, there's no fighting them!" He yanked Ruth hard and they both fell off the platform, landing with a bone-jolting impact on the hard stones of the track.

  The Baobhan Sith moved up and down the platform wildly, twisting and turning in an imaginary wind, avoiding any attack the Tuatha lle Danann made with any of their weapons. As Ruth watched in horror one of the creatures distended its mouth seemingly wider than its head and the razor sharp teeth folded out like kitchen knives. It flew towards one of Lugh's soldiers and clamped on his neck, the teeth snapping through the substance to suck up the god's essence; and however much he threw himself around or lashed out with his sword it could not be removed. A moment later the golden moths began to fly.

  "Let's get out of here," Veitch said quietly.

  "We can't leave them!"

  "We stay here, we die. There's too much at stake." He could see she was still unconvinced and added, "They'll soon catch up with us."

  The Tuatha lle Danann already had formed a phalanx and were backing rapidly across the platform. One of the Baobhan Sith tore another from their midst.

  "Look at that," Veitch said. "No point dragging our heels. Just bleedin' run."

  He made to grab Ruth's hand again, but she had jumped up to snatch a torch from the edge of the platform where it had fallen. Then she was sprinting at his side, glancing over her shoulder. One of the Baobhan Sith had left the platform to pursue them. "They're coming!" Ruth gasped.

  Their breath formed white clouds in the cold. Ruth was afraid she wouldn't have any energy left to escape. The ground was uneven, threatening to trip them, and the motion put the torch in danger of going out so that she had to shield it with her body. She didn't dare look over her shoulder any more because she couldn't go any faster if she tried.

  "Which way? Where's the other tunnel?" Her thoughts fell over each other in her panic. This is a nightmare. The words blazed white against the background darkness of her mind.

  "What's that?" Veitch was pointing into the shadows ahead; the edge in his voice turned her panic up a notch.

  No more, she prayed.

  There was movement on the ground ahead, not just in one spot, but in many. The soil and stone of the track floor was moving in little piles. Obliquely, Ruth realised it was the strange hummocks she had taken to be building rubble.

  From one of them, a grey hand rose slowly.

  Ruth couldn't restrain a brief shriek. They skidded to a halt. The hand became an arm as the stones and soil sloughed away. Across the myriad other humps the same scene was being played out as the Baobhan Sith emerged from their resting places. Earth showered from their wild hair and fell from their open mouths as they levered their shoulders up, then their torsos. Their faces turned towards Veitch and Ruth, all of them shrieking in silence, scattered from wall to wall and away into the shrouded distance. Ruth was too terrified to consider how many of them were waiting there in the tunnel.

  The sheer weight of terror elicited by the Baobhan Sith emerging left Veitch and Ruth rooted for an instant. But then Veitch shoved Ruth forward and they were sprinting once more, throwing themselves into a wild dance away from grasping hands.

  Behind them, the first to emerge were already on their feet, shaking off the lethargy of slumber, flitting in pursuit. Ahead, the hummocks in gradual upheaval stretched on forever.

  The Baobhan Sith rose up with increasing swiftness, and however fast Veitch and Ruth ran it was obvious they would soon be surrounded. Talons bit deeply into Ruth's ankle. She yelped as Veitch's flashing sword forced the creature to become insubstantial. They continued to drive forward, knowing that if they slowed an instant they would be lost, but already the Baobhan Sith were massing ahead of them.

  A few seconds later the route ahead was blocked with shimmering bodies. "Shit." Veitch ground to a halt and whirled round, his eyes feral. The Baobhan Sith swept up from all sides.

  Ruth jabbed a finger excitedly. "There's the tunnel!"

  To get to it would mean passing through the flickering creatures. Veitch gave Ruth a reassuring smile. "Head down. Stay right behind me. Don't let them get a hold of you."

  He barrelled into the mass of them, lashing his sword in front of him. Ruth kept exactly in his step, her heart thundering as hands clutched at her clothes; some caught but were pulled free; others ripped through her hair without getting any purchase.

  Just as they were about to dive into the tunnel, one of the Baobhan Sith latched on to Veitch. Ruth saw the transformation from mist to solid form as its mouth tore wide to expose the unbelievably pointed teeth. The powerful jaw muscles heaved as the head swept down to Veitch's neck.

  At the last moment Ruth jabbed the Spear into the creature's mouth. The fangs smashed down on it and the thing shimmered into nothingness. Veitch dragged Ruth into the small tunnel.

  Though breathless, they couldn't slow down. They could feel the presence of the Baobhan Sith at their backs like an icy shadow. In the main tunnel they headed southbound, acutely aware that they might run into more Fomorii and be trapped between the two forces.

  The torch cast barely enough light to see, and it was hard running across the uneven tracks without tripping, but the Baobhan Sith drove on ceaselessly.

  "They're not going to let up, are they?" Ruth gasped. "What do we dokeep running until we're face to face with Balor?" At the mention of the name the air temperature noticeably dropped several degrees and a deep, resonant rustling, like whispering voices, rose up on the edge of their hearing. Ruth resolved not to say that name again.

  "We've got to lose those grey bastards before we can do anything." Veitch spotted another side tunnel, this time leading to the northbound tracks. He headed towards it. They continued southbound, both beginning to flag. A hundred yards further on they came upon a doorway leading to the conduit for power lines and fibre optics. The Baobhan Sith were almost upon them as Veitch wrenched the door open, thrust Ruth inside and slammed it shut behind him. He jammed his sword into the frame and twisted it so the handle wouldn't open.

  They could sense the Baobhan Sith moving beyond the door as they collapsed against the wall and sucked in mouthfuls of air. "That should hold them until they raise the alarm." Veitch rubbed his tired eyes. "Good job they're morons with no initiative."

  "We better get moving before the Fomorii turn up," Ruth said. "I tell you, I could do with a sleep."

  "We'll get some downtime once we find a safe place to hole up."

  "I suppose we've lost the others?"

  "We can't go back for them, can we? They'll be there." A heavy pause. "At the end. You can count on it."

  The conduit lay beyond another door. It was lined with cables and wires, but they could walk along it at a stoop. Every time they came to a branching conduit, they turned, right, then left. After half an hour they found another inspection door and exited into a tunnel.

  "Well, I have no bleedin' idea where we are now." Veitch headed left, hoping it would lead them back towards the City.

  "All we need to do is find another station." Ruth eyed the torch worryingly; the flame was burning very low.

  They continued along the tunnel for a little way until their path was blocked by a large, dark object: a tube train. "Don't worry-we can squeeze by it," Veitch said.

  But as they edged along the side of the train, Ruth looked up and c
ried out in shock. The torchlight revealed the dirty windows were streaked with blood in explosive, paint-gun patterns. Inside she could just make out the shapes of bodies. It was hard to tell from her perspective, but they didn't appear to be in one piece. The sour-apple stink of decomposition was thick in the air.

  Veitch noticed it too. "The doors have been torn off," he noted.

  Ruth could just make out small figures too, and frail, old ones. She fought back tears; the terrible waste still tore a hole in her heart. "The Fomorii must have moved out across the city through the network when their leader was reborn."

  Veitch peered in through the ragged doorway. "Poor bastards. Didn't stand a chance."

  From ahead came the tramp of many feet. Ruth and Veitch were halfway along the carriage, squeezed tight against the dirty, oily walls. They wouldn't be able to make it back to the open tunnel before the Fomorii arrived.

  "In here," Veitch whispered. He crawled up through the doorway into the body of the carriage, pulling out his handkerchief and pressing it against his face. Ruth shook her head furiously in primal disgust, but she knew it was the best option. She screwed her eyes shut, covered her nose and mouth and followed Witch in.

  He guided her along the floor away from the open doors, but even with her eyes shut she had a visceral image of the scene around her. She brushed against hard and lifeless things that swung or shifted dramatically with a soft, wet sound. The floor was puddled with a thick, sticky substance; though her mouth was covered, the stench made her retch. Her stomach heaved time and again, and she didn't know how she managed to keep it silent, but then her eyes filled with tears at the thought of what had happened and somehow that helped.

  Veitch took the torch, which was so low it barely cast any light, and said he'd shield it with "something he'd found"; Ruth didn't ask what that was. They'd barely ended their exchange when the carriage rocked madly as the Fomorii barged past on either side. The two of them slid backwards and forwards on the slick floor. Ruth had to jam her hands and feet against the sides of the seats to stop herself skidding back towards the doorway. She almost lost her grip when Veitch slammed his boot heel into her face, but a moment after that the violent movement subsided. They exited the carriage a little sooner than safety would have suggested, but even then they couldn't escape the stink from their fouled clothes; nor the thought of all the atrocities that had been committed.