always made them appear dangerous in a haphazard, detached way; now they were a constant threat, ready to take out their fury on anyone who crossed their path.
If the gods could not find the Walpurgis with all the heightened abilities at their disposal, there was little chance Church would be able to locate the creature he had increasingly convinced himself was not the murderer. Yet he felt a growing imperative to do so, for he was sure the Walpurgis had information of vital importance.
His thoughts were disrupted by a cry from one of the crew perched in the crow's nest. Everyone on deck stopped moving. Church couldn't tell if it was because of hope, or apprehension-or fear.
Across the pea-green sea he could just make out a purple and brown smudge on the horizon. Here it is, he thought, suddenly concerned himself. The Islands of the Dead.
Chapter Six
The waters were unnaturally calm as Wave Sweeper sailed in, leaving barely a ripple in its passing. Insects skimmed the surface of the ocean in the heavy heat, buzzing noisily. An unpleasant smell of stagnancy hung over everything, but it was the stillness that unnerved everyone the most. There was a feeling of death in the air.
As Wave Sweeper closed on the land, Church was surprised to see it was not one single mass, but an archipelago, the strangest one he had ever seen. Numerous small islands protruded from the sea like fingers pointing at the sky, rising precipitously to dizzying summits, many looking like they could barely support their own weight. They were gnarled with rocky outcroppings and fledged with twisted trees and tenacious bushes. Stone buildings perched on the top of the island towers, occasionally obscured by drifting plumes of cloud. However, on the loftiest, most twisted, most precarious island stood a grand castle of bronze and glass, the walls afire in the dazzling sunlight. Its enormous bulk atop the slim column was in direct opposition to any natural laws on Earth. But this was Otherworld.
Manannan's order to drop anchor drew the crew out of their trance. Church noticed Ruth had appeared beside Taranis, who was observing the peaks of the island through his telescope, his face as hard as the stone of the cliffs.
'What's wrong?' Church slipped in quietly beside them.
Taranis looked at him as if an insect had chirped in his ear. 'There has been no greeting,' he said distractedly, returning his attention to his telescope.
Church eyed Ruth, her face uncommonly tired and drawn, but she shrugged noncommittally. 'Who were you expecting to greet you?' Church pressed.
Taranis sighed. 'In the Fixed Lands she was known as Hellawes. She foolishly grew too close to Fragile Creatures during her travels and became afflicted with the weariness of existence. She retired here, to her island home, though whether she truly recovered, none know. Still, she provided a welcome for travellers. It was the Master's wish to dine at her table.'
Church followed the angle of the telescope to the castle that appeared to be floating on the clouds that drifted beneath it. 'Maybe she doesn't know we're here.'
Taranis snorted; it was obvious he was not going to give them any more of his time. Ruth caught Church's arm and led him away, eager to tell him what she knew of home.
'The Fomorii are already moving out across the country?'
'It won't be long before they're everywhere.' Ruth shivered at the memory of what she had seen.
Church's shoulders were knotted with tension. He watched the crew preparing the landing boat. It had an oddly shaped prow that curled up and over the rowers. 'Being here makes you feel detached from it all, even when it's buzzing away at the back of your head. I needed a slap like that to focus my mind.'
'I wish we could just get to where we're going.' She hugged herself, despite the heat.
He saw Baccharus and Niamh lining up to join the small band ready to go ashore. 'Maybe we can gee them along.'
He led her over to the boat as it was hoisted up above the level of the rail ready for the crew to climb aboard. Church pulled Baccharus to one side. 'We'd like to join you. All of this is new to us. We want to experience-'
'Of course.'
Church was taken aback by the speed of Baccharus's agreement, but he wasn't about to question it. He quickly climbed aboard, with Ruth behind him. Niamh was already seated at the aft. She gave him a warm, secret smile, hidden from the crew who silently filled the seats. Church was curious to see that they all wore the gold and ivory armour of the warrior caste.
Ruth echoed his thoughts. 'They're expecting trouble,' she whispered.
Even though her words were barely audible, Baccharus picked up on them. 'The greeting is always issued,' he said ominously, his darkly golden eyes flickering towards the lofty castle.
The oarsmen propelled them across the flat sea with powerful, seasoned strokes. Church had the oddest impression they were skimming the surface of a mirror, so disturbingly smooth was the water. Even around the base of the rocky islands there was only the slightest swell and no breakers. It was as if the ocean itself was holding its breath.
Ruth was driven to cover her mouth to block out the choking stagnant odours. Church passed the time swatting away the alien insects, some of which were like meat flies that had grown as big as his fist, others like minute, jewelled dragonflies, sparkling as they whizzed by.
At the base of the island was a tiny jetty. Once the boat had been made secure with a thick rope, they clambered out. There was barely room for them all to stand, so they progressed one at a time along an uneven path that wound upwards around the island. It was just wide enough for one person and dangerously precarious the higher they climbed. On the outer edge it was badly eroded by the elements; one wrong foot would have sent them plummeting into the waves or on to the protruding rocks. Church and Ruth held their breath as they fixed their gaze on the next step, but Baccharus and the other Tuatha lle Danann climbed nonchalantly, oblivious to the drop.
The higher they rose above the flat, green sea, the harder it became to avoid feelings of vertigo. For distraction, Church found himself focusing on the wiry grass and diminutive yellow and white flowers that thrived in pockets on the rock face. His fingers gripped the stone until the joints hurt; behind him he could hear Ruth's laboured breath.
They climbed for almost an hour, until their thigh and calf muscles were fiery. Near the top, the buffeting wind threatened to snatch them off their uneasy perch so that even the Tuatha lle Danann had to face the rock and edge around the path.
Finally they passed through cloud to reach the flat summit and an area the size of a tennis court leading to the castle's imposing gates. That close it was even harder to understand how the place had come to be built in that almost inaccessible position; how it continued to survive there. The bronze and opaque glass walls rose up high above their heads, too bright to look at in the seething sunlight. Windows looked out on every vista, but they were all too dark to see within. It was unpleasantly quiet.
'Maybe she's not in,' Ruth muttered.
'The mistress of this place never leaves its walls.' Baccharus looked up to the battlements, as impassive as ever, but troubled.
At the castle gate they considered their actions. 'A knock,' Church suggested.
Baccharus agreed. 'Cover your ears,' he said to Church and Ruth. They looked at each other curiously. 'Sound has power. Mere words, or the sound they make, can alter existence. You know that?' He read their faces, then nodded in approval before continuing; Church and Ruth both felt like children being guided by a knowledgeable parent. 'The reverberations from the striking of this door will send all Fragile Creatures into a deep sleep, for-' he struggled with the mortal concept '-a long time.'
'How many Fragile Creatures do you get up here?' Ruth asked.
Baccharus returned his attention to the door. 'It is the way it is.'
Church and Ruth covered their ears, but even through their hands they could feel the strange vibrations of the struck door driving like needles into their heads, making them queasy at first, then drowsy. Baccharus shook them
