The Queen of Sinister (26 page)

Mary wondered if these beings were responsible for stories of angels, for there was certainly something angelic about them, more in their nature than their appearance. They almost appeared to glow with the faintest blue light, but their features were not benign; indeed, they had an unsettling subtle quality that made Mary quite afraid.

'My name's Mary,' she replied. 'Are you here to help me? Or stop me?'

'We are guides, helpers. We do not interfere, whatever path you choose.'

'I want to petition the Higher Powers,' Mary began. 'I'm very concerned about a friend who has gone off into a dangerous situation.'

Sharish's gaze fell on her powerfully, drove straight into her. 'Your desire to help is good, but sometimes desire is not enough, and events must unfold as Existence requires. Are you prepared for what you have to do?'

'Yes. I'll do anything. Can you help?'

Sharish motioned to the Long Man, and as she looked Mary was aware of a subtle change in the landscape. Now thin veins of blue light ran just beneath the turf like the pulmonary system of an enormous living being; she could feel the energy pumping through them. One line, stronger than others, ran through Dragon Hill to Windover Hill, illuminating the feet of the tall, old god, and then beyond. She had a vision of the network crisscrossing the globe, linking points of great spiritual power.

'There is more at stake here than you think,' Sharish said.

'What do you mean?'

'The smallest things are always part of something bigger. What may seem random events become part of a structure when viewed from a greater perspective.'

'You're telling me to take care? Are you being my guardian angel now?'

He smiled and in an instant everything about him softened. 'When you step into a dark room, it is good to have a helping hand to bring you back to the light. That is why we are here.'

Mary looked up at the Long Man, his hands pressed against the symbolic gateway. 'I want to open the door,' she said.

'Then know that you will contact something very old, and very high. He is beyond all you will find in the Fixed Lands, and in the Far Lands - even those who think themselves above all else. He was here when this place was first made, and he shall be here at its end.'

'God, then?' Mary asked. 'The highest?'

'There is always something higher.' Sharish moved to her side, and Mary felt every fibre of her being prickle with a strange anticipation. 'Ask him what you will, seek his aid, but know that the direction comes from you, and you may be wrong.'

'That wouldn't be a surprise.'

'Would you like to know more of what is at stake?' He was looking at her in a way that suggested she should seize this opportunity. She nodded, and he pointed to Hindover Hill in the dying light beyond Windover Hill. 'His companion stood there, once - the Goddess. Twin gateways to the powers that make up all Existence. She was the night to his day, the moon to his sun. Many old things have been torn asunder under the mistaken rule of mortals, and some have been put right in recent times, but this still remains. The Goddess is lost to him and he mourns.'

'You want me to find her?'

'She will return, when she is called. But the call must be loud and clear.' His spectral, shimmering hand touched her spirit-form and she jolted. 'Four million women died across your world, burned at the stake or hanged by fearful men afraid that the Goddess power would manifest within them.'

His cold, hard rage was frightening to feel. Mary knew what he was talking about - the persecution of witches carried out by religious zealots throughout the Counter- Reformation. 'And I would have been one of them if I'd lived back then,' she said.

'And that is why you are here, whatever you might think. Some men do not want the Goddess ascendant - they have grown comfortable with their own rule, with their wars and their money and their science and their logic. Fearful men have driven the Goddess away, but there must be a balance if mortals are to advance.'

'I still don't see what I can do—'

'You will be guided. The seasons are still changing. You know these words: "
Also a damsel shall be sent from the city
of the forest of Canute, to administer a cure. Once she has
practised her oracular arts, she shall dry up the noxious
fountains by breathing upon them. Afterwards, as soon as
she shall refresh herself with the wholesome liquor, she shall
bear in her right hand the wood of Caledon, and in her left
the buttressed forts of London."'

Mary clearly recalled the potency of the image. 'Yes. It's from the prophecies of Merlin. I've read them.' She paused, thoughtfully. 'You're saying it's all about women?'

'England's gateways are closed. They must all be opened again. Bear this in mind as you go about your business.'

He stepped back, and Mary realised it was finally time. She had prepared some minor ritual to try to open the way, but it was clear that it would not be necessary. Some other members of the Elysium had congregated on the vein of blue, and now it was growing brighter, pulsing. The vibrancy moved quickly through the ground towards Windover Hill and then rushed directly into the Long Man. At first, Mary thought it a trick of the fading light, but in the blue glow the figure came alive; his hands pressed the gateway wider and a sapphire light shone out across the landscape.

'The door is open,' Sharish said.

'I don't like her.' Mahalia sat in the crook of Jack's arm, watching Caitlin balefully. Carlton was now staring up at the doctor with puppy-dog eyes.

'Why?' Jack was surprised at Mahalia's vehemence.

'She's manipulative. She's a nutcase. And she can't be trusted.'

Jack peered at Caitlin as if trying to see through a disguise. 'I don't understand.' He shook his head. 'If you'd spent all your life stuck in this place without any other humans, any family or friends, you wouldn't be so quick to judge.'

Mahalia's expression changed quickly. 'I'm sorry. Don't think badly of me. I can be a bitch sometimes, when I'm not thinking.'

He tightened his arm to hug her closer. 'I couldn't think badly of you.' There was a tension in his muscles that puzzled her. After a moment it manifested in his voice. 'I like you.'

She looked up into eyes that sparkled, his intention clear. 'I like you, too,' she said.

'You don't understand. During all my time in the Court of the Final Word, I never thought I'd ever get close to another person, never thought I'd .. .' He gently reached out and touched her face with his fingertips as if he were committing some terrible indiscretion. He snatched them back, as if burned by the contact with her. 'And I never, ever dreamed the first person I found would be someone like you. You're so good, in your heart. You care deeply about things ... and ... and you're afraid that people are going to hurt you ... emotionally ... so you pretend you're someone else.'

Mahalia was taken aback. 'You really see me like that?'

'They gave me lots of abilities in the Court of the Final Word. I can see right into the heart of you. You're a good person, Mahalia.'

His words overwhelmed her. She moved her face, inviting a kiss. He was just as innocent, didn't really know what to do, but her intent and his desire were clear. They somehow found each other's lips, hesitantly and with embarrassment, but the purity of what they felt drove out all else. Mahalia, never before kissed, felt something profound happen to her, though she still didn't know enough to understand exactly what it was.

When they broke off, they held each other, hearts racing, trying to comprehend what had just occurred. And only once did Mahalia's thoughts grow cold and divert her eyes to Caitlin, who now had one hand on Carlton's shoulder.

The journey upriver continued, the banks getting closer with each mile that passed. The day had been hot and the insects that clouded over the water had long been a nuisance, so the travellers had spent most of their time beneath gauzy makeshift shelters or below deck.

They had increasingly noticed a fruity odour of corruption, growing stronger the further they advanced; in the heat it was florid and overpowering and occasionally so strong that they had to cover their noses and mouths.

It was not long before sunset that they came upon another boat travelling downstream. Triathus saw it with his acute eyesight long before any of them had any idea it was there.

'There is danger ahead,' he said, turning to them. 'A skiff approaches. It bears the sigil of the Court of Glimmering Hope.'

Matt stood at the prow and peered ahead beneath a shielding hand. 'How the bloody hell can you see that?'

'They're the enemy?' Caitlin asked.

'Five courts stand firm alongside the advancement of Fragile Creatures. Five are opposed. Ten remain unaligned. The balance has been held with tension in recent times, but our side believe pre-emptive strikes by the others ... the enemy ... could drive more into their alliance.'

'So, it's all about to go pear-shaped.' Crowther emerged from below deck with a canister of water. 'A civil war amongst the gods.'

'Leave them to it,' Jack said passionately. 'We don't need them. We should locate the cure and then return to our world.'

'We can't bury our heads in the sand.' Caitlin tried to see the approaching boat, but the sun on the water was too bright. 'That's what the Golden Ones have often done. We'll have to deal with the repercussions sooner or later ... they won't leave us alone, whoever wins.'

'Are they going to attack?' Matt picked up his bow from the rail where it had been leaning.

'They will strike if they see me aboard,' Triathus replied.

'Then we hide you below deck,' Caitlin said. 'And we hope they leave us alone.'

'You think they're going to be scared off by us?' Crowther sneered. 'Have you looked around recently?'

'Speak for yourself.' Mahalia stood on the rail, one hand clutching the rigging, the other holding the Fomorii sword.

'She's right,' Caitlin said. 'We're not going to give up easily now. We've got something to fight for - they haven't.'

'What an absolutely wonderful speech,' Crowther said sourly. 'I'm sure they will be quaking in their boots.'

'Nobody's going to take me again,' Jack said defiantly, though fear lay clear beneath the surface.

'Do not forget,' Triathus said, 'though their forms are changed, they are still Golden Ones. They cannot be slain—'

'We'll see,' Caitlin said. 'Now you go below.'

Triathus hesitated, then did as she requested.

'You can go, too,' Caitlin suggested to Crowther.

'I might as well die here on deck as down below.' His sweating hands moved beneath his coat before he snatched them out suddenly. 'I'll find a weapon ... do my part. Don't worry.'

'Thank you,' Caitlin said affectionately. Crowther harrumphed, and then went in search of something he could use.

They gathered along the port rail, tense with weapons at the ready, knowing there was nowhere they could run. Eventually the skiff came out of the low sun, its sail bearing a stylised star insignia. Six people stood on board, shorter even than the low men of the Court of Soul's Ease. There was something primal about their swarthy skin and thick black hair, and the unusual agility they exhibited as they moved across the deck to gain a better view of the approaching boat. They wore body armour made of leather and black steel, and carried short, cruel-looking knives, like roadside bandits. As the skiff drew nearer, everyone could see their eyes glittering coldly.

One of them wore a scarlet kerchief, which marked him out as the leader. He leaped on to the prow as the skiff drew alongside thirty feet away and eyed them slyly. 'Ho, Fragile Creatures!' he hailed. 'Who speaks for you?'

Caitlin stepped forward, bow in hand. 'I do.'

Puzzlement, then uneasiness crossed his face as he scanned her. 'A Sister of Dragons? Here, in the Far Lands?'

A tremor ran through his comrades, and he silenced them with a sharp cutting motion. 'What business do you have on the Endless River?'

'We seek a cure to a plague that has devastated our homeland. We hope to find it upriver.'

'Upriver? You know what lies upriver?' The leader laughed, then looked to his crew, who joined him in the mockery.

'We're not afraid,' Caitlin said defiantly.

This made them laugh even more. But as the laughter died away, the group of strange little men grew more menacing. Caitlin noticed the barely perceptible shift of their expressions, the way they clutched their knives tighter, moved close against the rail. Unbidden, the skiff began to drift towards Sunchaser.

'It was nice to meet you,' Caitlin said to them. She glanced at Matt, who was watching her carefully for any sign. Without drawing attention to himself, he notched an arrow. 'But we have to be on our way now.'

'Stay a while, Sister of Dragons. Let us talk some more.' The skiff continued to drift towards them. 'We so rarely have the chance to talk with Fragile Creatures. Tell us news of the Fixed Lands. We miss our old home.'

One of the crew at the back surreptitiously lifted his knife, ready to throw. Instantly, the air whistled as Matt's arrow rammed into the centre of the little man's forehead. The crew member squealed as he was thrown backwards wearing an expression of shock.