Always Forever (64 page)

"You completed your mission, then, Brother?" Baccharus said.

"I did," Church replied. "The land is alive again. That should at least give
us something for the fight."

Baccharus sipped from his flagon. "We can feel it. It is a powerful defence.
Even my kind fear the force of the Blue Fire."

Church and Ruth flopped wearily on the cushions while Niamh sent out for
food and drink, "all given freely and without obligation," a statement that told
Church this was a Court of the Tuatha De Danann in all but location.

"You've already agreed a plan?" Church asked as he ate his fill of fruit and
bread.

"The Golden Ones you know as Lugh and Nuada have overseen the battle
planning," Niamh said. "The Night Walkers are well established in their den
and it will not be easy to unseat them. The dark ones are a foul infestation. They
swarm everywhere. But a direct assault on several fronts should weaken them.
We come from the North and the West. The Master will lead Wave Sweeper
along the river to split their force in two."

"What about us?"

Perhaps it was a trick of the flickering lanterns, but she suddenly looked
deeply sad. "Though some of my kind refuse to admit it, you are the key to
defeating the Heart of Shadows. You must find a way into its lair and use the
Quadrillax to wipe it from existence." She turned away, pretending to unfurl
another map.

Ruth's hand fumbled for Church's and gave it a squeeze. "We'll do our
part," she said.

Baccharus and Niamh left them alone to eat and doze in the warm atmosphere,
but they were too tense to get much rest. Four hours later, the tent flaps were
roughly thrown aside. Church automatically jumped to his feet, his hand on the
Sword hilt, but he was almost bowled over by a large figure that crossed the tent
in seconds and threw its arms around him tightly.

"Ey, you bastard!" Veitch lifted Church off the ground and hugged him until he felt his ribs were about to crack. "I thought you'd have done a runner
by now."

"You can't get rid of me that easy." He clapped Veitch on the shoulder, more
pleased to see him than he would have believed.

Shavi slipped in behind, smiling quietly, and then Tom, looking tired and
irritable. Veitch turned and waved the stump of his wrist at Shavi and Ruth.
"Beat you both, as bleedin' usual."

Ruth stared in horror for a while, then followed his gaze down to where the
finger was missing on her hand, and over to Shavi who sported the same gap.
They all burst out laughing together.

But then Veitch could control himself no longer. He marched over to pull
Ruth to him tightly, burying his face in her hair to hide the emotion that rushed
through him. After a few seconds, he pulled back to kiss her gently on the head.
Ruth went rigid in the face of his show of feeling, knowing it wasn't the time to
tell him about Church, unsure what to do, but Veitch didn't appear to notice her
reticence. She flashed a glance at Church, who gave one quick shake of his head.

Veitch smiled with a mixture of affection and embarrassment. "Sorry about
that." His eyes were fixed on hers, wide and childlike; there was a flush to his
cheeks. "I've missed you."

Ruth smiled back awkwardly, but said nothing. The moment was deflated by
Shavi who hugged Church and Ruth in turn, his emotions also close to the surface.
"It feels good to be together again," he said quietly. "Now all we need is Laura."

There was a moment of uncomfortable silence before Church said, "She's dead."

"No, she's not," Veitch said, puzzled. "Shavi was the only one who was dead."

They looked from one to the other blankly.

It was hard for any of them to believe they were back together again. Each of
them felt, at times, overwhelmed; and then they would simply sit and listen to
the others talking, enjoying the motion of faces, the animation of limbs, the
energy crackling amongst them. Elation overwhelmed them all, completely
wiping out any thought of what the morning might bring. There was drinking
and raucousness, jokes that made light of their hardships, and the warm glow of
old friends brought together again.

Veitch held up a flagon marked with a design of a Fabulous Beast. "You seen this?"

"Isn't that the one with the pellet with the poison?" Church laughed, but
Veitch completely missed the reference.

"No, no," Shavi said, grinning, "that is in the chalice with the palace. That
one is the brew that is true."

"You lot haven't bleedin' changed," Veitch muttered.

Veitch was mesmerised by every movement Ruth made, as if he could barely
believe she was there before him. Part of Ruth felt uncomfortable at the depth
of emotion she sensed, yet she was excited by it too. That conflict made her
uneasy. She knew she loved Church, so why was she responding to the attentions
of someone else, in particular a man with whom she had so little in common?

When the conversation became a heated debate about Laura she was
thankful for the opportunity to distract herself from her thoughts. Neither she
nor Church could believe Laura was still alive; Tom and Veitch were adamant
she was. It was left to Shavi to argue that they now lived in a world where anything could happen.

The conversation moved on. Ruth tried to stay out of the limelight, but
Veitch brought her in at every opportunity, rapt at the tales she told.

"You hung on the outside of a ship in a storm? You're a crazy girl!"

"At least I didn't manage to lose a hand," she said wryly.

"Maybe we should get ourselves a little Amputation Club going." Veitch
chortled; he was drinking too much, too fast. Beneath his upbeat exterior, they
all could see the strain the loss of his hand had brought in him.

"That'd exclude me," Church said, "so in defence I'm proposing the Born
Again Club."

Veitch furrowed his brow. "What's that, then?"

"Well, I died and came back." He nodded to Shavi. "So did you. And Ruth
did, fleetingly, just before Laura took the seed of Balor from her."

Veitch snorted. "You're not counting me out, you tosser."

"Do not worry, Ryan," Shavi joked, "there is plenty of time for you to meet
your maker and come back down to earth."

"Right. And I'll do it in style. With a choir of bleedin' angels!"

Tom muttered something indecipherable, but patently irritable. Veitch
swore at him playfully, laughed when Tom bit, then broke open another
amphora of wine.

"You know, I miss technology less than I thought," Ruth said, lounging
back on one of the enormous cushions. "But one thing I could do with now is a
CD player, or a tape deck ... anything that gives music." She eyed Church with
faux contempt. "As long as I don't have to listen to any Sinatra."

He laughed. "Shame. I could come up with a good soundtrack for all this."
He thought for a moment. "How about `That Old Black Magic' from Come
Swing with Me! followed by `It's Nice to Go Trav'ling-

Ruth covered her face.

"No, no, something soulful. Spiritual," Shavi said. "Curtis Mayfield. Perhaps Van Morrison-"

"Geezer music," Veitch said. "I never thought I'd say this, but I wish Laura
was here. She might have been a pain in the arse most of the time, but musically
she kept you music fans in your pen."

Shavi looked towards the tent flap. "I still expect her to walk in at any
moment."

An outcry outside brought them all to their feet. They rushed out into the
cold night to see the Tuatha De Danann in a state of excitement around one of
the campfires.

Church grabbed one of the gods by the shoulder. "What's going on?"

The god was shocked that he had been accosted by a Fragile Creature, but he
appeared aware of Church's reputation. "The Norta has been seen! And her sisters too!"

"What's that?"

The god struggled for the right words in his excitement. "The one your
people called the Morrigan."

A hand fell on Church's shoulder and he turned to face Baccharus, equally
animated. "A great portent, my friend. The Morrigan is one of our own, but she
prefers her own company, or that of her sisters, Macha, Badb and Nemain. They
have not been seen by the Golden Ones since the first days after the pact. But
they are drawn to war ... and ... and bloodshed ... and ..."-he attempted
to speak in a manner Church could understand, but he struggled with a word
that was still alien to him-"death. The Dark Sisters are fearsome, both in what
they represent and in their prowess. The Morrigan and her clan helped us win
both battles of Magh Tuireadh. Undoubtedly, her appearance is a good omen."

"Where is she?" Church scanned the campsite, eager to see a figure of such
reputation.

"The Dark Sisters will not come into the light." Baccharus raised his head
to the gleaming moon. "Macha, Badb and Nemain were seen circling the camp
earlier. They wore the armour of war."

"And the Morrigan?"

"There is a stream nearby. In it she was seen washing the heads of those who
are to die in the forthcoming battle. The Morrigan keeps count of those who
move from existence."

Church flashed back to a cold February night before he had any inkling of
the terrible change that had come over the world. It was the Morrigan he had
seen washing his own head in the Thames. His throat closed up when he thought how she had turned and looked at him, with a face that appeared like
death itself. But another worry crept up on him: was that portent referring to
his previous death on Skye or was she revealing what lay in store for him in the
Battle of London?

"Tell me," he said, "did your people see the heads?"

Baccharus knew exactly what he was asking. "I cannot lie. There were
Fragile Creatures."

Church's blood ran cold. "Who was it?"

"No!" Tom strode over, his face cold and hard. "Do not tell him! It would not
help for anyone to know they are going to die. Hope is the engine of success."

Church studied his face carefully. Tom didn't meet his eyes. "You know
who's going to die, don't you? You've always known."

Tom fixed an eye on Church that made his stomach turn. "Yes. Pity me for
it." He turned and marched away without another word.

Church felt sick. He looked round at the others, who were talking to another
of the Tuatha De Danann; none of them had heard the exchange. In that instant
he understood exactly what Tom was going through. He couldn't tell them one of
them was destined to die; it was a burden he would have to carry himself.

The sadness came up quicker and harder than he anticipated as he watched
the people who had become his best friends over the last few months. He couldn't
imagine being without any of them, even though that had been a constant from
the moment they had banded together. Unbidden, his thoughts turned to which
of them he would miss the least, and that made him feel even worse.

Dismally, he turned back to Baccharus, who deftly changed the conversation. "True Thomas is a good man. Do not blame him for being the bearer of
bad news."

"We never got on at the start. I thought he was manipulating us. That he
was cold and patronising and arrogant. I wish I'd been better to him."

"True Thomas has accepted his responsibility. He does not expect anything
from you."

"That makes it even worse."

A whistling like an incoming missile passed overhead. Church looked up to
see the terrifying form of a woman pass by, her hair as wild as winter, her black
clothes streaming off her in rags, her mouth torn wide as she made the
anguished noise. He shivered as her shadow passed over him.

"Badb, Queen of Crows," Baccharus said.

"I'm glad she's on our side."

He watched the other figures moving across the sky for a while, but the
night was too cold to stay for long. Returning to the warmth of the tent, he found the others already in deep conversation, though Tom was nowhere to be
seen. Their faces showed the mood had darkened.

"We were talking about the traitor," Ruth said as he entered.

"I don't want suspicion causing any rifts at this critical stage."

"Yeah, but we've got to be on our guard." Veitch was repeatedly unwrapping, then rewrapping the cloth around the stump of his wrist. Church knew
his mind was working through numerous strategies, dismissing some,
rethinking others. He was still drunk, but he was now brooding, and it was
easier to see the anger that always lay just beneath the surface. "We've come
through all this shit together, trusted each other. If I found out one of us had
been playing the others just to sell them out, I'd kill them."

"Ryan!" Ruth said.

"I find it hard to believe one of us could be a traitor." Shavi looked around
them, as honest and open as always. "We come from different backgrounds. We
are all different people, with nothing, superficially, in common. Yet we have
seen into each other's souls. We are good people, all of us, at heart. I trust my
instinct implicitly. I cannot see anything in any of us that suggests betrayal."