through her own terrible weakness. She didn't deserve to live.
Matthias watched the Fabulous Beast with a beatific expression. 'The Fabulous Beast has been wakened by our ritual here tonight. He flies for the first time in millennia. We shall send him back to our world, to prepare for what is to come.'
'Don't do that!' Mahalia pleaded. 'What if everything goes wrong? He'll be lost. Something so wonderful will be lost!' She blinked away tears, the blue trail becoming a rainbow of glittering sapphires.
'If everything goes wrong,' Matthias said, 'it does not matter where he is, for all Existence will be gone.'
Chapter Fifteen
'Dying is an art, like everything else. I do it exceptionally well.'
After two hours beneath the blasting heat, a scrubby oasis rose up from the rolling dunes. Caitlin had come like a storm sweeping across the landscape, but now she decided to break her journey to refresh herself with water, though she felt as if she could walk without sustenance or rest for ever. Beneath the cool shade of the palms, she scooped several handfuls of the clear water to her mouth, then immersed her face and soaked her lank, greasy hair, already gritty with the wind-borne sand that was insinuating its way into her nostrils and ears.
She was only minutes out of the oasis on the path the Morrigan had chosen for her when she became dimly aware that she was not alone.
As the sand shifted beneath the wind, it uncovered two mounds on either side of her that gradually revealed themselves to be figures lying buried just beneath the surface. Shaking the streaming gold from them, they stood up quickly and threateningly. They wore armour that brought to mind Japanese samurai: black enamel with delicate gold line-work of swirls and scrolls, helmets with broad cantilevered panels at the sides and back, long swords that curved into a broad blade. Yet within each helmet, the faces appeared to be nothing but sand.
Caitlin waited for it to slough off, but it didn't; it just shifted constantly into an approximation of faces, mouths yelling or pensive, eye hollows, noses long and thin or hooked.
'What are you?' she asked defiantly.
'We serve the Djazeem,' they said together, their voices like the rush of granules through an egg timer. 'You drank their water. It was not given freely-'
'I do what I will,' Caitlin said, 'and no one tells me otherwise.'
'There are rules-'
'I make my own rules.' Caitlin notched an arrow, but wondered how she could possibly harm the oasis guards if their forms truly were made of sand. 'Don't stand in my way — I haven't got time.'
The guards stepped towards her with the unnerving rhythm of mechanical men; their swords sliced the air, then poised ready to strike. 'The Djazeem demand an offering in return for the theft of this most precious resource. You must pay-'
Caitlin loosed the arrow. It hit the right-hand guard in the middle of his face and punched through the back of his helmet. As she anticipated, it didn't affect him in the slightest. He continued to advance, pulling out the shaft as he did so and tossing it to one side with a gauntleted hand.
'So who are the Djazeem?' Caitlin said, attempting to buy time while she considered her options. But she had already placed the name the White Walker had mentioned when she had first entered the Far Lands.
'They are Lords of the Weeping Wastes,' the guards said in unison, still advancing. 'You are a visitor in their territory. You must obey their rules.'
'I've already answered that one.' Caitlin moved quickly to reclaim the discarded arrow.
The guards moved rapidly and balletically, spinning and striking so fast that their blades were a blur. Yet the instant they attacked, Caitlin's entire perception changed: it was as if time moved so slowly that her attackers were like statues. She projected the slow arc of their swords, considered several tactics and then danced athletically out of their way. The blades slashed through the space where she had stood, the guards spinning in surprise that she had evaded their attack so easily.
Their dance continued for five full minutes, Caitlin weaving through their attack, the guards growing more determined, their movements more complex.
Caitlin knew she could run and would probably evade them, given time, but the Morrigan's scratching voice inside her head suggested another path.
She came to a sudden stop, no longer knowing what she was doing; the Morrigan seized full control. It felt as if a weight was forming deep in the pit of her stomach. The guards didn't slow in their attack; their swords swept fluidly to slice through Caitlin from two separate directions. The last remaining conscious part of her knew she no longer had a chance to avoid them.
The weight in her stomach twisted and turned rapidly, as if a family of rats nested there. Electricity rushed to her extremities and she was thrown backwards, a black cloud erupting out of her. Crows. Born from within her, so many that they obscured the white-metal sky, the shifting sands, the two attacking guards. And still they came, pouring out of her in a constant stream of black feathers, thrashing wings, sharp talons and darting beaks. Their deafening cawing was like the sound of a summer storm.
The cloud billowed and then drew in with hurricane force on the two guards. Caitlin couldn't see what happened in the frantic attack, but within seconds the birds were retreating inside her. It felt like being pounded by rocks. Briefly, she lost consciousness, and when she was next aware, there wasn't a crow in sight. She lay on her back on the downward slope of a dune. Her hands went to her stomach, which was sore, as though she'd eaten a barrel of sour apples, but beyond that she was unharmed.
Pulling herself to her knees, she saw the guards' armour scattered all around, their sand bodies lost to the surrounding dunes. Movement caught her eye. A creature resembling a hairless monkey the size of her palm crawled out from beneath one of the breastplates.
Caitlin darted forward and snatched it up. It squealed in terror and pain as her fingers closed around it, the skin warm and obscene to her touch. But she held on tight and brought it up to her face.
'Do not harm me!' it said in a high-pitched whine.
'Now you listen to my rules,' Caitlin said. 'In return for your survival, you'll answer some questions. Do you understand?'
'I serve the Lords of the Weeping Wastes-'
'I'm not going to ask anything that goes against your obligations to your bosses. All I want is directions.' The tiny creature stared up at her with its little currant eyes. Caitlin felt the rapid beat of its heart through its papery skin. 'OK. How far am I from the Endless River?' she asked.
'It lies southeast of here,' the guard replied curtly. 'Follow the route you were taking, then turn south when you reach the edge of the Weeping Wastes. You will have to pass through the Plain of Cairns…' A flicker of something crossed its face, quickly stifled; Caitlin had the impression that the Plain of Cairns was not a place she should attempt to cross. 'Two sunrises should see you there.'
'Very good. Now, the river was taking me to a place where I could find something very important to me… it's called the House of Pain. Do you know it?'
The creature gave a high-pitched mewling that made it appear even more like a monkey. Its eyes ranged in its head, wide and frightened. 'The House of Pain is not of the Far Lands.'
'I was told it stands-'
'It stands on the Borderlands, but it is not of the Far Lands. It comes and goes between here and there… some say it even exists here and there. It belongs to the Great Dark.'
'If I chose to go directly to the House of Pain-'
'You would not return.'
