at Hopton on the east coast in Norfolk.'
'Along that line are many of those powerpoints. They feed the whole network. For the land to come alive with the earth energy, the St. Michael Line must be vibrant and powerful. But it is fractured in part, sluggish in others, a trickle in many places.'
'And to wake it?' Shavi asked.
'On the tip of Cornwall there is an ancient and mysterious place known as St. Michael's Mount. It is the lynchpin of the entire line. I have spoken in the past about the Celts and the other ancient races encoding great secrets in the earth itself. At St. Michael's Mount is the greatest secret of all. Locked under that place, Church-and Church alone-will uncover the key to bringing the line, and the land, back to life. Or he will find death.'
Veitch tapped out a monotonous beat on the kitchen table with a teaspoon. 'They'll have the place well defended,' he said, staring into space. 'Those tricks and traps they lined up to guard the spear, sword and the rest of it were bad enough. If this is their biggest secret-'
'Exactly,' Tom said.
'Then,' Shavi said, 'we need to get Church to St. Michael's Mount as soon as we can.'
In a quiet orchard at the back of the farmhouse, with the yellowing, autumn leaves glowing spectrally in the moonlight, Shavi sat cross-legged and listened to the sound of the night. Amongst the surrounding vegetation, eyes glittered-a fox, a rabbit, a badger, several stray cats-all of whom had come to see the shaman at work. The ritual, his first since leaving the Grim Lands, had been wearying, necessitating some of the tricks of concentration he thought he had become too experienced to need. But it had worked.
A few feet above the ground, the air was boiling as what appeared to be liquid metal bubbled out and drifted down; it was accompanied by the familiar smell of burnt iron. Behind it came one of the bone-white, featureless creatures Shavi had summoned before, a human-shaped construct used by one of the denizens of the Invisible World. It pulled itself forward and hung half in and half out of the hole in space.
'Who brings me to this place?' Its voice was like the wind on a winter sea.
'It is I, Brother of Dragons.'
'I know you, Brother of Dragons. Have you not learned your lesson, of reaching out to the worlds beyond your own?'
'I know my place, and I know yours. I seek guidance.'
'You did not heed our words before.' The creature put its head on one side in a faintly mocking style.
Shavi recalled the prophetic message one of these creatures had given him about his murder at Callow's hands, but it had been couched in such cryptic terms he had not realised its meaning until it was too late to do anything about it. 'I chose my path. And I am here to hear your words again.'
'There is a price.'
Shavi ran a thumb over the rough pad of his left hand, now crisscrossed with a score of tiny scars, chose a spot, then slit it with a knife. The blood dripped on to the damp grass.
'You give freely of your essence, Brother of Dragons.' An underlying note of warning.
'Another Brother of Dragons, our leader, known as Church, is currently abroad in the Far Lands. Firstly, how does he fare?'
'He fares well. You have achieved all that you desire, but what you desire may do more harm than good.'
Shavi noted this subtle warning, knowing there was no point attempting to get the construct to elucidate. 'Then he will be back shortly. My second question: where will he arrive?'
'He will return to the Fixed Lands at the point from which he departed, where Merlin's Rock marks a doorway between worlds.'
Shavi didn't recognise the name, but he guessed Tom probably would. 'Then I thank you for your guidance. Return safely to the Invisible World.' He paused. 'No final words of warning?'
Although the construct had no features, Shavi was convinced it was smiling. 'No warning would ever do justice to what lies ahead for you and your Brothers and Sisters.'
And then it was gone.
Tom and Veitch sat around the range in the candlelight, drinking homemade beer. They were used to Shavi's ragged appearance after making contact with the Invisible World, but were eager to discover what he had learned. As he had expected, Tom knew the location instantly.
'Mousehole,' the Rhymer said gruffly. 'Then he joined Manannan's sick crew.'
'Where's that, then?' Veitch swilled the beer down rapidly; six large mugs in a quarter of an hour.
'Cornwall.' Tom stared at the red coals in the open door of the range. 'In the furthest tip. The part of the country where the Celts buried their greatest secrets, and subsequently the most spiritual part of the land.'
'Bloody hell, it's going to take us ages to get down there.' Veitch took another swig, then looked up suddenly. 'You could make another jump.'
Tom waved him silent, his eyes still fixed on the fire, deep in thought. Shavi asked what Veitch meant and the Londoner spent the next five minutes attempting to explain how they had slipped into the energy flow between Scotland and Wandlebury Camp. Shavi was enthused by the entire concept and excitedly questioned Tom about it.
'Didn't you hear me say the St. Michael Line is fractured?' he snapped. 'If we attempt to travel along it and hit a dead spot we will be unceremoniously spewed out into the world. Perhaps over a gorge or a cliff face or above a river in torrent. Now what good will that do?'
Veitch examined the deep lines of Tom's face, the fix of his eyes, until Tom could no longer pretend he hadn't seen him. 'What?'
'You're thinking about it.'
'No, I'm not.'
'Yes, you are. I can see it in your face, you old bastard. And I know exactly what you're thinking. You're thinking it's too much of a risk for all three of us, but one of us needs to try it because we're running out of time.'
Tom was particularly irritated at Veitch's sudden insight.
'I'm right, aren't I?'
'Oh, shut up.' Tom rose from his chair and went over to the window to peer out into the dark. 'It has to be me because only I can give Church the guidance he needs. Only I can point him towards St. Michael's Mount.' A few beats of silence. 'And the two of you are too valuable to risk. Five of you are needed to put this square. Any less… if any of you don't make it through the next two weeks…' He made a dismissive gesture.
'Then what should we do?' Shavi asked.
Tom was already gathering his things together in his haversack. 'You must make your way to a meeting place, somewhere just beyond the reach of the Fomorii influence on the outskirts of London. I would suggest the west-'
The door crashed open and Davenport lurched in, his face pale and drawn. Shavi helped the farmer to a chair. Veitch's eyes went instantly to the door and window; the farmhouse was sprawling, impossible to defend.
'Down at the pub,' Davenport gasped between juddering breaths. 'I was talking to some bloke about you lot. Never seen him before. He was asking a lot of questions. I thought he'd just heard the stories, like the rest of us-'
'What happened?' Veitch gripped Davenport's shoulders and had to be prised off by Shavi.
'After I told him you were up here, his face started to change… melt… I thought I was going mad. Then I thought I was going to black out. One of the other blokes down there was sharp. Chucked a pint glass at him. I got away, still thought I was going to puke my guts up.'
'Fomorii,' Shavi snapped.
'There were more of them,' Davenport continued. 'I saw as I ran up here. They were following me-'
His sentence was cut off by a crashing at the front door.
'No time,' Tom said. 'We will find each other in the west, along the M4 between Reading and London.' He nodded to them all, then darted through the back door where he snatched Davenport's bicycle from its resting place against the wall.
'Hide,' Shavi said to the farmer. 'They are after us. They will leave you alone.' He saw Veitch's fixed expression and knew he was considering a fight. 'This is not the time. We cannot afford to fail now.'
