whatever was there remained hidden; his eyes couldn't focus on it at all and he was repeatedly forced to look away.
When it was only feet away, a jewelled anchor lowered into the water. Church was beginning to feel a touch of apprehension.
Once the ship was secure, they waited and waited. Ten minutes passed without a sign or sound. Before Church could decide on a course of action, there was a shimmer of movement on the deck, like light striking a mirror. A second later a booming voice rolled out over the water, the quality of it constantly changing across a wide scale so it sounded like it was rising from the deepest depths.
'Who calls?'
Electricity spiked Church's spine and he suddenly wished he were a thousand miles away.
Chapter Two
The gangplank unfurled towards them as mysteriously as the ship had been propelled through the water. It was made of brass, and though there was a mechanical clattering, the motion was as smooth as if it were a carpet. Church released his breath only when it clicked perfectly into place. Everywhere was tranquil; waiting. It was still impossible to see what lay on deck.
When no one summoned them aboard, he put one tentative foot on the gangplank, although it didn't feel strong enough to take his weight. He threw out his arms to steady himself when it gave slightly, but it held firm. He glanced back at the others. Callow was shying away in fear, but Ruth placed her hand between his shoulder blades to propel him forward. He squealed and Church had to grab hold of his collar to prevent him plummeting into the waves; from his expression that would have been the better option.
Cautiously Church led the way. Beneath them, the water slopped against the sea wall in a straightforward wave pattern, as though the ship wasn't even there. Callow's whimpering grew more insistent the closer they got to the deck.
'Any last words?' Ruth said ironically.
'You wouldn't want to hear them.' He took a deep breath and stepped on to the deck.
The moment his foot landed on board, everything became instantly visible. He caught his breath at the sight of numerous figures all around, watching him silently. The taste of iron filings filled his mouth.
'Ho, Brother of Dragons!' The voice made him start, but he recognised its rich, faintly mocking tones instantly.
'I didn't expect to find you here.'
Cormorel was beaming in the same warm, welcoming way Church recalled from their talk around the campfire in the north country, but the darkness behind his expression was a little more obvious. In the sunlight his skin almost gleamed; his hair flowed like molten metal. 'Our brief discussion of the Western Isles gave me a desire to see them again.' Cormorel's smile grew tight as he looked to the shore. 'Besides, the Fixed Lands have lost much of their appeal.'
Church felt irritated at Cormorel's easy dismissal of a place he had professed to enjoy, but he knew by now the Tuatha De Danann cared for little. 'You don't have the appetite to face up to Balor,' he said, pointedly.
Cormorel answered dismissively, 'There will come a time, perhaps. But for now the Night Walkers leave us alone, and we, in turn, have more enjoyable things to occupy us.' Brightening, he made a theatrical sweep with his hand. 'But I am forgetting myself? You are an honoured guest, Brother of Dragons. Welcome to Wave Sweeper.'
Church followed his gesture, expecting to see only the Tuatha De Danann standing around the deck, but there were many who were obviously not of the Golden Ones, their forms strange and disturbing. Cormorel saw Church's confusion play out on his face. 'Wave Sweeper has always accepted many travellers. The journey to the Western Isles is one of significance to many races, not just the Golden Ones.'
'A pilgrimage?'
Cormorel didn't appear to understand the term. Church was also concerned that the god was talking about the ship as if it were alive. He looked more closely at the wooden deck and the unnervingly detailed fittings flourishing on every part of the structure.
Cormorel noticed Ruth for the first time. 'Sister of Dragons, I greet you.' But then his eyes fell on Callow and a tremor ran across his face. 'What is this? Night Walker corruption, here on Wave Sweeper?' His gaze flickered accusingly to Church.
'He's a danger to others. We can't afford to leave him behind.'
Cormorel weighed this, then reluctantly nodded. He motioned to two gods with the youthful, plastic, emotionless faces of male models. Callow shied away from them until they were herding him in the direction of an open oak door that led beneath deck.
'What are you going to do with him?' Church asked.
'We cannot allow something so tainted by the Night Walkers to move freely about Wave Sweeper. He will be constrained for the remainder of the journey.'
'You won't hurt him?'
'He is beneath our notice.' Cormorel turned, the matter already forgotten. 'Come, let me show you the wonder that is Wave Sweeper before we set sail.'
He led them from the gangplank across the deck, gritty with salt and damp from the spray. The crew and passengers watched them impassively for a moment before returning to their business, as strange and unnerving a group as Church could have expected. He felt overwhelmed at the presence of so many of the Tuatha De Danann in one place. The whole array were represented, from those like Cormorel, who appeared barely indistinguishable from humans, to what were little more than blazes of unfocused light he could barely bring himself to examine. Although he could tell Ruth was also disturbed, she maintained an air of confidence that kept Church at ease.
Cormorel was enjoying the attention the other Tuatha De Danann lavished on him. Exhibiting his pets, Church thought sourly.
'Firstly, we must introduce you to the Master of this ship.' Cormorel directed them to a raised area bearing a wooden steering wheel with ivory and gold handles. Next to it stood a god whose presence took Church's breath away once the shifting perception had settled into a stable form. He stood more than seven feet tall, his long hair and beard a wild mane of silver and brown. His naked torso was heavily muscled and burnished. Gold jewellery wound around his arms from wrist to bicep, but beyond that all he wore was a broad belt and a brown leather kilt. Even from a distance Church could see his eyes were a piercing blue grey like the sea before a storm. With no sign of emotion, the god watched Cormorel, Church and Ruth approach, standing as still as a statue.
For once, Cormorel appeared humbled. 'Here is the Master of Wave Sweeper, known to you in the ages of the tribes as Manannan Mac Lir, also known as Manawydan, son of Llyr, Barinthus, ferryman to the Fortunate Island, Lord of the Stars, Treader of the Waves, Nodons, Son of the Sea, known as Neptune by the journeyman, Lord of Emain Abhlach, the Island of Apple Trees, known also as the King Leir.'
Church felt little respect for the Tuatha De Danann's willful disregard for humanity, but he feared their power and he knew, although he hated it, that they were needed if the day was to be won. He bowed politely. `Jack Churchill, Brother of Dragons. I am honoured to be in your presence.' Ruth echoed his words.
Manannan nodded without taking his stern regard off them. 'I welcome you to Wave Sweeper.' His voice sounded like the surf breaking on a stony beach.
'It is auspicious that the Master greets you at the beginning of your journey,' Cormorel said. 'Who knows? Perhaps it bodes well for you achieving your stated aims.'
'Which are what, Brother of Dragons?' Manannan showed slight curiosity.
'To travel to the Western Isles to cleanse myself of the corruption of the Night Walkers,' Church began, 'and then to beseech the Golden Ones for aid in driving the Night Walkers from the Fixed Lands.'
Manannan was plainly intrigued by the suggestion. 'Then I wish you well, Brother of Dragons, for that is an honourable aim.' Manannan's attention crawled over them uncomfortably for a moment longer before Cormorel
