becoming increasingly steep. By the time he had grasped how sharply it was falling away, his feet would no longer give him purchase and suddenly he was sliding down. He barely had time to take a breath before the water washed above his head, and then he was rattling down an incline, faster and faster, until it became a vertical drop.
The rush of water burst out into thin air. He could vaguely feel his legs bicycling as he plunged thirty feet into more water, deeper this time and rushing in a torrent. One random thought flickered through his head: Ruth's beautiful face as she told him about London's old River Fleet, now buried beneath the city as it rushed down towards the Thames. And then the impact stole his consciousness and the water closed over his head.
Chapter Nineteen
Save Sweeper was moored not far from Southend when Church came sweeping down from the northwest with the remainder of the Tuatha Df Danann force. The journey skirting Greater London and through the green fields of rural Essex had passed in a golden blur. He was accompanied by Tom, the Bone Inspector and Niamh, but he didn't recognise any of the other gods, although he sensed many of them were not sympathetic to the cause of the Fragile Creatures. He wondered why his particular task force was burdened with more dissenters than the other two, but Tom wasn't too concerned when he raised the matter.
On board it felt strangely good to be back in the familiar detachment of Otherworld with its heightened sensations, away from all the suffering of the real world. There was an atmosphere of stillness that eased the anxiety coiled in his chest; even the sun was shining brighter than on the shore. He made his way to the rail where he quietly enjoyed the tang of the sea and the warmth on his skin, until Tom joined him.
'You're going to bring me down, aren't you?' Church said without looking round.
'I'm the last person to advocate an injection of reality, but-'
'I know: responsibility, obligation, and all that. Is this the standard precrisis pep talk?'
'Something like that.' Tom leaned against the rail, facing the sun, his eyes closed. 'You know, I can remember the days of my youth as clearly as if they were yesterday. Hundreds of years-although it's not really, not by Otherworld time. But it's still a long, long time and so many experiences.' He took a deep breath. 'I smell the blossom in the garden of my childhood, so powerful, like incense and fruit wrapped up together. I remember distinctly the way the sunlight caught the dew on a spiderweb in an old yew tree, one dawn when I had crept out of the house before anyone had awoken. The rosewater on the neck of the first woman I ever loved. The touch of her fingers on the back of my neck.' He shook his head dreamily. 'Amazing.'
Church watched Tom curiously. He had never heard him speak so tenderly, nor talk of any of the happy times in his human life before his transformation at the hands of the Tuatha De Danann Queen. It was as if he had wanted to keep them secure from the horrors that had assailed him since.
'Now I begin, for the first time in many years, the memories come thick and fast.' Tom's eyes glistened in the sun. 'Days of tenderness, composing songs and poems. Nights watching the stars over the Eildon Hills. My mother and father, at Christmas, leading the singing before the fire. My best friend James, playing hide-and-seek in the kitchens, then later courting the girls from the village together.' He turned fully to Church with no attempt to hide his tears. 'Remember your own bright moments, Jack, and hold them in your heart. They will keep you warm in the coldest nights.'
'Why are you telling me these things?'
'Nothing I could say would help you to comprehend right now. You will understand everything presently.'
Church tried to glean some insight from Tom's face, but he was taken aback to see it was packed with complex emotions. For so long, Tom had appeared to have no feeling in him at all; as inhuman as he always believed himself to be. It felt like a sea change had come over him, even in the last hour. 'What's happened to you?'
'Time has come a-calling. Finally.'
Church could see he was not going to get anything out of the Rhymer; infuriatingly, his friend's unexplained words worked their way deep into his mind, where they set off a troubling resonance.
While he wrestled with his thoughts, he scanned the deck where the crew busied themselves for departure. The main Tuatha De Danann force had all disappeared below with their weapons. Manannan stood at the wheel, overseeing the activity. He raised a hand in greeting when he saw Church.
'I hope you're telling him what a pathetic little runt he is.' The Bone Inspector's gruff voice shattered the mood in an instant. He leaned on his staff, the wind whipping his grey hair.
Tom snapped, 'No-'
'I was talking to him.' The Bone Inspector nodded towards Church.
'Don't start with your useless prattling.' Tom eyed him murderously.
'You may have been honoured by the Culture in the times of my ancestors, but that doesn't mean I can't give you a good whupping with my staff.' The Bone Inspector underlined his point by twirling the staff around his arms as if it were alive.
'Great. Two old people fighting,' Church muttered. 'It'll be like watching your granny barge her way into the bread queue.'
'Don't forget,' Tom cautioned the Bone Inspector, 'the Culture dies out with you.' He smiled sadistically.
'Well, that's where you're wrong. I've been making some plans-'
'Don't you think that's a little premature?' Church said.
'You shut up and concentrate on your job, you lanky-arsed weasel.' The Bone Inspector returned his attention to Tom, nodding superciliously. 'Yes, I've been thinking. Now the seasons have turned and all the materialistic, logic-obsessed bastards have had a rude awakening, it might be time for a reflowering of the Culture. I can see the colleges now, maybe at Glastonbury and Anglesey, like we used to have in the old, old days. Passing on the wisdom to a new generation of bright-eyed-'
'You think you'd make a good teacher?' Tom sneered. 'After all that time sleeping in ditches they'll need to hose you down with industrial cleaning fluid just to get somebody in a room with you.'
The Bone Inspector scowled. 'At least I know my arse from my elbow.'
'Yes, but do you know your arse from your mouth? I think not.'
Church sighed and made to pacify them, but they turned on him so venomously he backed away. 'Okay, go ahead, knock yourself out,' he said tartly. 'Literally, if possible.'
The bickering ended when Niamh walked over. Tom gave a restrained, deferential bow, but the Bone Inspector simply looked away, as if he were alone on deck and lost in a reverie.
'The Master is preparing to sail,' she said. She glanced round to ensure she could not be overheard, then added quietly, 'Taranis oversaw the arrival of a container brought aboard by Nuada's personal guard. It was stowed in a section of the hold where access is restricted only to the Master and Taranis. Those faithful to Nuada stand guard without.'
'I think I saw it,' Church said. 'Was it a large wooden chest with bands of iron around it and a gold clasp?'
'That may be how you perceived it.' Niamh looked from one to the other. 'I believe it to be the Wish- Hex.'
'They won't even let you near it?' Church asked.
She bit her lip. 'I could attempt… It would cost…' She shook her head. 'No matter. There is too much at stake.'
Church looked to Tom. 'When do you think they'll detonate it?'
'When it's close to Balor and they're well away.'
'Not on board ship?'
'Good Lord, no!' Tom looked horrified. 'And lose Wave Sweeper? This isn't just a collection of timber and nails, you know!'
Church took Niamh's hand and led her to one side. 'I know this is hard for you, working against your own people, but if there's anything you can do-'
