'They're all up top throwing rocks at the boat,' the Bone Inspector said, but Church wasn't convinced.
The Wayfinder led them to a short corridor that ended in a dead end. At first sight there was nothing out of the ordinary, but then Church allowed his perceptions to shift until he could see the lines of Blue Fire running through the stone like veins, converging into the circular design of a serpent eating its own tail. He steeled himself, then placed his hand hard on the pattern. The wall ground open to reveal a shaft plunging down into the earth, the bottom lost in shadows.
The Bone Inspector leaned in to inspect it. 'There are handholds cut into the stone.' He tucked his staff into the back of his shirt and levered himself over the lip. 'Don't know why they made these things so bloody lethal. One slip and there'll be a mess on the floor.'
The Bone Inspector had disappeared from view and Tom was just about to follow when they heard the faintest sound behind them. They spun round to find the corridor filled with Fomorii. And at the head of them was a frantically fluttering mass of crows.
Church had sheathed Caledfwlch to open the doorway, but it was back in his hand in an instant. Before the first Fomorii could move, he was advancing quickly, swinging the Sword back and forth in an arc. His target was Mollecht, the leader, the most powerful. Faced with the enemy, the Sword was even more alive in his hands than he recalled. Its subtle shifts of weight forced his hand in different directions to make the most exacting of strikes, while at times he felt it squirm so hard it almost leapt from his fingers.
But before he had gone three paces, the Fomorii had closed around Mollecht to protect him. They were obviously aware of Caledfwlch's abilities, but they showed no sign of self-preservation at all. Church carved through them as they flooded forwards ceaselessly, the bodies falling then shrivelling to nothing at each cut of the blade.
Sweat rolled off him as he hacked and lunged in the sweltering heat. Eventually he began to make some headway. Soon he could see Mollecht once more, directing the Fomorii silently. It was enough to drive him to renew his efforts. He hit one high, spun round and caught another low, and then took out three with one blow. And then Mollecht stood before him once more.
But the hideous creature was prepared. As the final Fomorii fell away, Church saw the birds moving aside to open a hole that revealed the entity inside; his mind was as unable to accept it as the first time he had witnessed it at Tintagel. The energy inside the hole was already swirling and on the brink of erupting.
Tom thrust Church out of the way. The blast hit the Rhymer full on and within a second the blood was starting to seep through his pores. Church had no time to help. The Sword was tugging at his hand, as aware of the opportunity as Church himself. Mollecht had drained himself. It would be a moment or two before he had the strength to make another attack, or even to defend himself. The hole was already closing. Church drove the Sword horizontally towards the centre of it. The creature would be skewered, finally.
The dark shape exploded out of nowhere. Church only caught the briefest glimpse out of the corner of his eye before it slammed into him with force, knocking him to the hard stone floor. Caledfwlch went flying from his grip.
'Do I have to do everything round here?'
The voice stunned Church just enough to hamper his reactions, and by that time a figure had jumped on to his chest, pinning his arms over his head. He found himself looking up into the monstrous black-veined face of Callow. He was gloating in every fibre of his being.
'I want your finger, Mr. Churchill, and I want it at the knuckle. I've decided to make a necklace,' Callow said gleefully.
And then the Fomorii were all around him, swamping him in darkness.
Church came round in a place that was dark and so unbearably hot he thought he was going to choke. Twisted leather bonds bound him to a splintered table fastened to an iron gear system that angled it forty-five degrees from the upright. Aches and bruises buzzed in his limbs, but beyond that he was in one piece. Scant, scarlet light was provided by a glowing brazier in one corner. As his eyes grew accustomed to the gloom, he saw with a sickening chill where he was. Cruel, sharp implements hung from a rack on one wall, reminding Church how adept the Fomorii were at torture.
The thought was knocked aside by the blunt realisation that he had failed, at the very last, after so many obstacles had been overcome; and that it wasn't even he alone who would pay the price. It was all of humanity, everyone he had ever loved.
He tore at the bonds until he was disturbed by a low groan away to his right. The figure lay like a bundle of old rags in a slowly growing pool of blood. The moonlight glow of his skin, tinged blue at his fingers, told Church he was dying. 'Can you hear me?' Church asked gently.
There was no reply or movement for a second or two and then Tom tried to lever himself up on his elbow before slipping back. He made two more attempts and then managed to roll on to his back so he could look at Church. His face was covered with blood still seeping from his pores. Church felt a wash of despair.
'If there's anything you want to get off your chest, now's the time to do it,' Tom said gruffly, though his voice could barely be heard above the thunderous heartbeat.
'You saved my life.'
'Lot of good it did you.'
'I'm sorry,' Church said, 'I let you down. If only I'd moved quicker.'
'Nonsense.' Tom coughed violently. 'You have exceeded my wildest expectations. From the first time we met I could see you were the right man for the job. Oh, I know I never said it-couldn't have you getting a big head-but you were the best possible choice, Jack. The very best.'
'I wish you'd said that before.' Church closed his eyes, trying to deal with all the acute emotions bubbling through him. 'I've still failed, though.'
'You're breathing, aren't you?'
A thought sparked in Church's still awakening mind; he looked around as best he could. 'Hang on. Just you and me?'
'So it seems.' There was a note of caution in Tom's voice not to say any more.
Church knew how resilient the Bone Inspector was. If he had managed to evade the Fomorii, there was still a slim chance. 'How long was I out?' he said with renewed enthusiasm.
'I would say it's getting on for dawn. Not long to the feast of Samhain. The gates will be opening soon. The Heart of Shadows will get all the power he needs.' He coughed then added quickly, 'Don't mention its name. Not here, not this close to it. The repercussions might be…' His voice faded.
'The Sword?'
'Behind you. And the Wayfinder. They can't touch them, you know, even with the massive advances in their power. They have to rely on Callow.'
'That bastard. I was convinced he'd died on Wave Sweeper. He's like a cockroach-stamp on him and he just keeps on running.'
'If you get free…' Tom gave a hacking wet cough '… you must use the Wayfinder.'
'To find what? The head?'
'No. Think of the symbolism. What it means. It is a lantern that will light your way to the true path. It has a direct access to the source of the Blue Fire. I always told you to keep it close to you because…' Another cough; something splattered on the stone '… it's more important than you thought.'
Tom fell silent; Church couldn't even hear his ragged breathing any more. 'Tom?' he called out, fearing the worst.
'Yes. I'm here. It's nearly time.'
'For what?'
'Remember what I said to you. On the ship. About keeping your memories close to you. They're your Wayfinder, Jack.'
Tears stung Church's eyes. 'Just hang on-'
'No. This is no surprise to me. I've had the chance to prepare myself.'
Church forced himself to keep his voice steady. 'How long have you known?'
'A long time. Longer than you've been alive.'
Church couldn't begin to imagine how that could have been: to know when your death would be, to have the shadow falling over your whole life, yet still managing to keep going, to make friends, to care for people. It threw all
