shimmering in the mist. The goddess turned and briefly acknowledged the two of them, with something akin to the respect of a wise matron. Then, proud and aloof once more, she drove her horse through the doorway and was gone.
Tom was waiting for them when they crossed over. As Veitch emerged, the bier bearing Shavi's body fell into stark relief. Tom's face crumpled in a broad beam as he clapped eyes on Shavi sitting up in a daze. It was the greatest joy they had ever seen him exhibit, but then he noticed Veitch's stump and his jubilation was replaced by an equally intense horror.
'Epona?' Shavi asked.
Tom couldn't take his eyes off Witch's mutilation. 'I called her to help you.'
'How long was I over there?' Veitch's weak, gravelly voice was on the edge of delirium.
'Two hours.'
Veitch bowed his head. 'It seemed longer.'
Shavi explained to Tom what had happened in the Grim Lands as they both helped Veitch back to the house to recover. He was particularly troubled by the loss of Witch's hand.
Eventually he brightened enough to say, 'We must not lose sight of the great thing we have achieved this day. You have been brought back from the edge of death, a victory over some of the most powerful rules of existence. That is symbolic of the great power, and hope, invested in the Brothers and Sisters of Dragons.'
'Hooray,' Veitch croaked.
'Now we must find the others and prepare for the battle that all your lives have been leading towards.' He nodded thoughtfully. 'Five once more. Amazing. Perhaps we can carry ourselves with a little more hope than the situation would suggest.'
Chapter Twelve
Church and Baccharus hurried along dark, twisting corridors with the expectation of an attack at any moment. They had left the vicinity of the Walpurgis's secret hideaway rapidly, and Callow and the Malignos had so far failed to catch up with them. At some point they had expected to come across the Fomorii occupying force, but the lower decks were strangely free of them. Wave Sweeper was still stranded in the same spot, tossing and turning on waves that were obviously being whipped up by the growing storm. Church wondered what that meant for Manannan, whose will alone appeared to power the ship.
At his cabin, he darted inside and then into the wreck of Ruth's room, but there was no sign of her. He threw off the first bolt of despair: Ruth was resilient; she would survive, he told himself.
As they reached the steps up to the deck, they realised how presumptuous they had been. Through the open door, framed against the night sky, they could see the swarming silhouettes of the Fomorii. From their perspective it was impossible to tell how many of the Night Walkers were loose on deck, but it was obvious they had control of Wave Sweeper, and Manannan, if still alive, was probably a prisoner in his cabin. A little guilt crept up on Church as he secretly relished how the Tuatha De Danann would feel at being the prisoners of beings they considered less than bacteria.
Cautiously they retreated along the corridor until they had reached a point where they would not be overheard. Baccharus watched him silently, until Church realised the god was waiting for him to decide a course of action. 'What?' he said uncomfortably.
'You are a Brother of Dragons,' Baccharus replied, as if that answered everything.
Church shook his head disbelievingly. 'Okay, okay.' He fidgeted with the sword at his side, then said, 'We've got to move soon. Callow and the Malignos could be upon us at any moment. Callow's got a bastard's tenacity; he won't give up until he feels he's paid me back for ruining his life. But we can't go forward. There's no way we'd ever get past all those Fomorii on deck. They'd cut us down before we made one step out there, like… like Butch Cassidy and the Sundance Kid or something.' Baccharus continued to wait on his words. Church pedalled furiously. 'So… so…'
'We have to find another course of action.'
'Exactly.' And then he had it. 'The first time I was down here I was searching around and I came across another secret room… at least I think it was secret. And there were three Golden Ones in there-Goibhniu-'
'Creidhne and Luchtaine, as they were known in the Fixed Lands. The room was secret, but it would have opened itself to you because of your heritage.'
Church felt too weary to question what this meant. 'They were making weapons,' he said instead. 'What was that all about?'
'That must wait until later, when there is time.'
'If the room is still there, if the weapons are still there, if Goibhniu and the others are still there-'
Baccharus was already moving along the corridor. Church kept up with him, still amazed to see branching corridors appear as if from nowhere. Five minutes later they passed through the door into the foundry, with its familiar smell of sulphur and smoke. The furnaces were cold, the room silent. Hammers lay where they had fallen. Iron remained partly worked on the anvil. In the gloom beyond, Church could see the mysterious weapons stacked in heaps, untouched.
Baccharus traced his slim fingers along the edge of the furnace. 'I do not think the Night Walkers found this place. The three smiths would have gone to the aid of the Master once the interlopers were discovered.'
'So it's still just us.' Church investigated the first pile of weapons. The uses of most of them were impossible to divine. 'Do you know how to use these?'
'Some. I am not a warrior.'
Church picked up a sword with twin parallel blades. It was extraordinarily light, made of gold and silver, useless in battle. A blue gem was imbedded at the top of the handle between the blades. Casually, Church brushed the jewel with his thumb and was instantly shocked by a sucking sensation deep within him that rapidly grew stronger until it felt like his innards were being pulled out. The sword jumped like a living thing in his hand, so powerful he could barely control it. Before he could fling it down, he noticed coruscating blue energy crackling between the blades near the base, slowly rising up towards the tip as it grew stronger.
Baccharus stepped in quickly and touched his thumb to the gem. The energy died away and Church's jolted body returned to normal, although he could still feel faint vibrations running through his skeleton. 'A Wish-Sword,' Baccharus said. 'To be used with caution.'
'You're telling me.' Church placed it back on the pile, wary of touching anything else. 'Is there anything a little less apocalyptic?'
Baccharus mused for a moment before pulling out a leather thong with what appeared to be a Japanese throwing star tucked in a fold. The star had six points in the shape of extended teardrops, cruelly tipped with barbs, and was made of the same silvery metal that was a constituent for most of the weapons.
Baccharus weighed the weapon in his hand a moment, then slowly began to whirl the thong around his head. Unnerved, Church took refuge behind one of the furnaces where he could just see Baccharus building up speed. When the weapon was a blur, Baccharus snapped his wrist and the star went flying out of the thong. It ripped in an arc through the air; a primitive if effective weapon, Church thought. But then Baccharus nodded his head towards a heap of unformed metal and the star jumped unnaturally in the air to follow the direction of his gaze. It tore through the metal like it was made of sand. Baccharus moved his head sharply two more times and the star obeyed him exactly, making two more cuts through the pile, which fell with a resounding clatter. The star spun back to Baccharus, slowing and hovering slightly so he could pluck it out of the air with his thumb and forefinger.
'That's amazing.' Church snatched the star and examined it closely. There was nothing to show why it should act in such a manner. 'Can anyone use it like that?'
'Anyone with a will.' Baccharus smiled.
'It's still not going to help us if we have to face the massed ranks of them, but it's a start.'
'What do you suggest?'
Church shifted uncomfortably. There was one avenue he had been resisting, but he didn't see how he could
