level.'
They reached a tacit agreement and set off, with Matthias leading the way and the other members of his group taking up the rear. He picked a convoluted path through the treacherous marsh, treading carefully along ridges of turf concealed amongst the rushes. The density of the mist made it impossible for Matt and the others to remember their route; once in the depths of the marsh, they would not be able to find their way back without the Culture's help. On either side, the slimy pools bubbled and belched and the stink of rot was overpowering.
'Tread carefully,' Matthias warned. 'The Dismal Marsh may look shallow but it is deceptive. It will suck you down rapidly and there is an acidic quality to the liquor that will strip the skin from your bones.'
Away in the mist, an unknown bird emitted a low cry of such mournful power that it instantly depressed their spirits. The place felt haunted.
'What are you doing here?' Matt asked. 'Finding sanctuary,' Matthias replied, 'and therein lies the irony. For what mortals could ever expect sanctuary in the Far Lands! That only goes to show the flaws of humankind, that we would feel safer here than in our own home. Our own kind are our enemies — we need no other predators. Greed, mendacity, arrogance, brutality, contempt — these things will stop us achieving our true place, not gods.'After a while they came to an island in the centre of the wastes. It was heavily wooded, but there were wide, grassy clearings amongst the trees. At its centre was a small encampment of roundhouses in the old Celtic style. Most were small living quarters, but there was one larger construction that served as a meeting place and general dining area. Sheep chewed lazily on grass in an enclosure, and another area had been given over to cultivation.
'We do things much as we did in the time when we fled our home,' Matthias said, leading them into the great hall. It was easily large enough to encompass the whole group and many more besides. A fire blazed in the centre of the room, the smoke exiting through a hole in the roof. A wooden table had been erected in a horseshoe shape parallel to the curving wall.
Matthias took the lead seat, marked out by a high wooden back where carved dragons coiled. He motioned for Matt, Mahalia and Jack to sit. Crowther stood behind them. Within minutes, the other members of the Culture brought in plates of cold lamb, vegetables, fruit and jugs of cold water. 'Eat and drink,' Matthias said warmly. 'It does me good to offer hospitality after all this time.' Behind his seriousness, there was a decency that made them all at ease.
'There was a time when the Culture played a vastly important role — the most important role — in the business of humankind,' he continued. 'But I would think our name is no longer known, is that correct?'
Matt shrugged. 'I'm sorry…'
Matthias looked down for a moment, then collected himself. 'It was only to be expected. Then let me tell you our history. Our society has existed since the dawn of mankind. The responsibility placed upon us was to cater to the spiritual needs of the people, and as part of that role we collected knowledge, and guarded it, and taught, and tended, and we oversaw all the invisible worlds that crowd around our own. We stood as sentinels and guides between our world and the others.'
The other members of the Culture had taken their places around the table, and they were nodding sagely but sadly as Matthias told his tale. 'We were priests of the grove. Our tool was the sacred sickle, our language the language of trees. The Culture originated in Britain and the true knowledge was amassed there, from the days before the stone circles were erected, and seekers of wisdom travelled from across the oceans to learn at our feet. We understood the Blue Fire and its nature as the lifeblood of all things, and we learned how to shape it, channel it. We knew the henges and the menhirs, and the sacred hills and the wells and the lakes were the places where it was strongest.
'And over time, in our learning and our wisdom, we began to see how it could be the basis of an age of peace and prosperity, guiding mankind on the next step of his journey to the stars. We had already developed our role as shepherds of humanity and guardians against the many forces that would wipe us from Existence. We helped to shape the Brothers and Sisters of Dragons from their earliest days. We hid the great weapons of power and marked the prophecies and warnings in the landscape so that future generations would come to know the truth, if they still had the eyes to see. And in time we began to pull the disparate Celtish tribes together into a dream of nationhood that would make our vision a reality.'
Fire briefly blazed in his eyes as his memories played out across his mind; the others' faces grew stern. Mahalia looked around at them, remembering her school days, thinking perhaps that she understood the common name by which the Culture had passed into history.
'Those who believe in the power of the spirit over material things will always be easy targets for the power- seekers, and so it was for us. Just at the point when it seemed that our dreams would be made reality, the invasion happened. They came in their ships, at the command of Caesar, with a hunger for conquest and a contempt for other beliefs. They built their straight roads and sent out their marching legions, and killed the people in their thousands, driving the tribes to the fringes of the lands.
'And they knew of our power, for they had heard much of it in their homeland, and so they set out to persecute the Culture, to weaken us and make the people feel they had been abandoned. After the final battle at Mon when the Great Bastard Suetonius slaughtered the massed ranks of the tribes, we melted into the great forests and the mountains, and attempted to cling on. And so they hunted and harried us for the four hundred years of the great occupation, and slowly our number dwindled until there was only a handful of us left.
'We had one last chance to hold on to our dreams. Eight of us… this eight… were despatched into the ultimate hiding place: Tir n'a n'Og, the land of the gods themselves, where we could protect our knowledge and bide our time, and with the great warrior Jack, the Giant- Killer, known as Church, we formed our enclave, and waited. And waited. Here, in the Land of Always Summer, we never aged, but our purpose became diluted, for when you have all the time you need, why do anything? And so we are as you find us this day.'
He sat back in his chair and closed his eyes, clearly sad and troubled. For a while, the only sound was the crackle of the fire. Matt looked bored by the storytelling and had long since turned his attention to eating his fin. But Mahalia had been listening intently, and the talk of Brothers and Sisters of Dragons made her feel sick. She remembered pressing the knife to Caitlin's throat, the splash as Caitlin fell into the water, the Lament-Brood.
Matthias must have seen the guilt in her face, for he asked sternly, 'What is wrong?'
'There was a woman who travelled with us… everyone kept telling her she was a Sister of Dragons…' The Culture grew animated; whispers rushed around the table. 'A Sister of Dragons, here in the Far Lands?' one exclaimed.
'Yeah, we kind of heard that before,' she said, trying not to give too much away. 'But we're pretty sure she died.'
Silence followed. Then Matthias said simply, 'No.'
Matt had perked up at the sudden interest in Caitlin. 'What is it?'
'There are prophecies. These are the Great Times — the seasons that will lead into the Golden Age. But the Brothers and Sisters of Dragons must all be there to lead us through the darkest days or everything will fall into the Void.'
Mahalia slumped back in her chair so that Matt's body obscured her from Matthias' probing gaze.
But he had forgotten her. He raised himself up and said, 'Then there are important things to discuss, if you truly are the companions of a Sister of Dragons. But this is not the time, nor the place. We shall discuss this later. Now I must prepare.'
With a new sense of purpose, he strode out of the hall. One of the other members of the Culture came over; he was younger but had a new air of deference about him. 'Please — take your time, rest or explore our island. We are at your disposal.' Matt found a spot in one of the small roundhouses and decided to rest while the Culture hurried from house to house, talking amongst themselves in hushed voices, their faces flushed and eyes bright. It was as if they had woken from a long sleep. Jack caught up with Mahalia as she perched on a mound of crumbling stones, the remnants of some ancient building that predated the Culture's occupation of the island. He slipped next to her, without touching or speaking, and for a while they watched the shifting mists. Their vantage point was above the cloud level, and it looked like a sea of sun-kissed gold was rolling out towards the canopy of forest in the distance.
'It's beautiful,' Jack said quietly, and she had to admit to herself that it was. And then he added, 'You're beautiful,' and she started to cry, uncontrollably, the tears pent up for several years. He was surprised, and concerned, but he put his arm around her shoulders so she could rest her head against him, and let her cry herself out. As night fell, the island became a magical place. Lanterns were lit amongst the trees, attracting a flurry of
