disappeared up his arm.
'It's true,' Ruth said. 'Can you feel it?'
Shavi closed his eyes and put his head back beatifically. 'Yes. The earth power. '
'A few weeks ago I didn't feel a thing in any of these old sites. Now I've got a tingling in my legs, my hands.' Ruth looked round curiously. 'A feeling of-'
'Well-being,' Tom interrupted. 'The Pendragon Spirit within you has grown stronger through your experiences. The spirit and the earth power come from the same source. Naturally, you sense an affinity.'
'If the spirit inside us grows stronger, where will it end?' Shavi asked with an expression of wonder.
Tom smiled enigmatically. 'Millennia ago, when the blue fire pulsed through the arteries of the earth, all men experienced what you feel now. And perhaps they will again. Once you have awakened the sleeping king.'
They processed into the centre of the circle and looked around. All was silent apart from the breeze humming in their ears. The sun was fat and scarlet on the horizon, about to tip below the distant hills, the sky red at the lowest point, merging through purple to dark blue.
'There's no one anywhere near here,' Veitch protested. 'We just going to sit around till somebody turns up?'
'No,' Tom replied. 'We are going to summon the Gruagaich and petition them for aid.'
There was suspicion in all their faces, to which Church gave voice. 'We've had enough of being manipulated by any supernatural force that happens to cross our path-'
'Don't worry,' Tom interjected sharply. 'This time we turn to our own.'
'What do you mean?'
Tom motioned to the stones. 'This has been a place of summoning for as long as people have settled in the area. You see that stone over there? It is the clack na Gruagaich, one of several by that name scattered around Scotland. This site is hardly known by anyone outside the locals, who would leave an offering in its hollow for the spirits they knew could be contacted here-mainly milk, for protection of the cattle. They believed the spirits were brownies or some other daoine- sith.' He smiled contemptuously. 'The good neighbours, their euphemistic term for the beings of Otherworld, or Elfame as they called it. Faerie.'
'But they weren't?'
'No. The clue is in the name. Gruagaich. Long-haired ones.' He watched the sun for a long moment. Only a thin arc was visible now above the silhouetted hills. 'The first among the old tribes. The people who took up the mantle of the power discovered by the ones who put up these stones. The Celts.'
After a long pause, Veitch said doubtfully, 'You're going to talk to ghosts?'
'We will summon the Celtic dead,' Tom stated emphatically.
Ruth's brow knit. 'What can they know that could help us?'
'In the spirit world, all vistas are open. And these are not just any spirits. They are linked to you through time, the first Brothers and Sisters of Dragons.'
Tom's words sent a shiver running through all of them just as the sun slipped completely below the horizon and darkness swept across the land. But a second later, a cloud drifted away and the moon cast its silver light on the circle, limning every stone, throwing long shadows across the grass.
'It's time,' Tom said.
From his left pocket, he took a plastic bag which appeared to contain pieces of twig and dried vegetable matter. 'The sacred mushroom,' he said.
'You're a regular drugstore.' Laura's normally confident tones were softened by apprehension. 'I know where to come when I want to get blasted.'
Tom ignored her. He took a handful of the psychoactive mushrooms from the bag and moved among them, placing small quantities in their mouths. They chewed the rubbery, metallic-tasting pieces and swallowed with distaste.
Tom ingested several himself, then took out the battered tin in which he kept his hash and meticulously constructed a joint. When he was done, he lit it and inhaled before walking over to the altar stone. There, he blew out the smoke gently. It rose like a ghost in the moonlight. Using his lighter, he charred the edge of the remaining hash and crumbled some of it into the hollow on the stone. Then, head bowed, he took a few paces back and sat cross-legged, drawing the pungent smoke deep inside him.
Veitch and Laura shifted uneasily, but Shavi, Church and Ruth were overcome by an atmosphere of sanctity. On some level they couldn't quite comprehend, they sensed a change begin to take place around them, as if the air itself were growing heavier, filled with the weight of what was to come. Church swallowed and tasted iron filings in his mouth; his heart began to beat faster as a tingling sensation ran from his groin along his spine to his head. He wondered how much was the drugs and how much was actually happening.
It felt like they waited for an age, feeling the wind gently brush their skin, filled with the summery scent of the warm pine forests. But then they noticed a distant movement away in the night. Initially it seemed to be only moonshadows on the rolling terrain, except it became too insistent; the blurred edges of the shadows hardened, the undulating movement became more defined into smaller units. Slowly, Church scanned the area, squinting to draw form from the gloom. Another shiver ran through him when the images finally took shape.
Figures were separating themselves from the landscape in a wide arc, advancing slowly on the stone; he estimated there must have been about a hundred of them, mostly men, but some women. At first they were just silhouettes against a lighter dark, but in their eerie, silent advance, details began to emerge. Long, dark hair; skin that was swarthy where visible but in the main covered by what appeared to be mud, as if they had camouflaged themselves for guerrilla warfare; with the furs and hides that kept them warm and the way they moved, in a low, loping way, they resembled some odd half-beast creatures.
Finally they came to a halt thirty feet from the stone. The breeze blew among them, rustling hair and furs, but they were so unmoving in the gloom they merged with the stones and the outcropping rocks. It was impossible to discern their faces; pools of shadows filled their eye sockets, leaving Church and the others with the horrible sensation that if the shadows cleared, there would be no eyes there at all. The night was suddenly alive with anxiety and danger; Church knew in some instinctive way that however insubstantial the revenants appeared, they were not passive creatures; he couldn't shake the feeling that, with the wrong word or movement, they would attack. From the corner of his eye he could see the others staring at Tom, silently urging him to break the oppressive mood.
After what felt like an age, Tom rose to address the dark assembly; he held out his hands in the universal sign of friendly greeting.
'What do you want, teacher?'
The voice seemed to be in Church's head. The words rumbled with a strange accent, but they were clearly modern English, although he couldn't begin to understand how the communication was taking place. One of the figures moved out of the mass. He didn't appear to walk; it was almost as if, in the blink of Church's eyelid, the figure had shifted forwards several feet. There was nothing about him that signified he was a leader or spokesman.
'We come in this time of crisis to call upon your great wisdom, revered ancestor.' Tom's head was slightly bowed in respect.
'It must be a matter of import to summon us back from the Grim Lands.' There was a worrying note in the words, but then the speaker inclined his head slightly towards Church and the others and his tone became more respectful. 'I sense in these the shimmering blue fire of the Great Mother Bridgit.'
'They are Brothers and Sisters of Dragons.'
The Celt bowed his head. 'The fire of life has found a good home.'
Church felt a sudden surge in his heart. In the Celt's words was a regard and acceptance that cut through his own fears about his abilities.
'In our hearts and spirits, we make our offerings,' Tom continued. 'Will you hear me?'
'We know you too, brother. Your kind administered to us from the sacred groves. It is good to know the lore survives the years. We will hear you.'
Church saw the tension go out of Tom's shoulders. 'You will be aware, as in the first days, that there is darkness on the land and blood in the wind. The Fomorii have returned.' A tremor seemed to run through the throng; Church's heightened senses felt a wave of threat. 'They wish to trap the people in the Eternal Night. That must never happen again. We can no longer rely on the comfort of the Children of Danu. But, as in your days,
