Not far away, Ruth made her way through the crowd, the Spear of Lugh resting jauntily on her shoulder. She looked at peace, and that made Church happy to see. She caught sight of him and came over, giving him a kiss on his cheek as she slipped her arm through his.
'I can't believe how well the Craft is working for me here,' she said. 'I've been practising. It makes me feel so alive to use it. If only it was always like that.'
'It's inversely proportionate,' Matthias said. 'If the Mundane Spell is working strongly, using the Craft, getting closer to nature, bringing the Blue Fire alive is harder, if not impossible. The two are different faces, like the Void and Existence, but they're linked. One pulls one way, the other loses ground, and vice versa. For the majority of human existence on this planet, everything pulled in Existence's direction, the Blue Fire thrived and humanity was better for it. After the Industrial Revolution, everything changed. The Mundane Spell got a grip on the land, and the Blue Fire went into a long decline. Eventually magic disappeared from the world.
'It was always within the power of humanity to keep the Blue Fire alive, but the Mundane Spell is very seductive. It speaks to the worst instincts of human nature, and good men and women are required to overcome it. People should have taken a stand long ago. They did not. And so the Mundane Spell whispered in the night, and gradually draped on them responsibilities and needs that did not make their lives better, but which seemed at first glance attractive. By the time humanity recognised that, it was too late.
'But that is how the other side has always won. Not by direct confrontation, but by an arm of a 'friend' around the shoulder. The foolish, the unthinking, the tired and worn down — they always listen. Only now, as it sees its control ebbing away for good, is the Void turning to destruction.'
A black cloud passed briefly across the setting sun, swirling up and then back to circle around the camp. The revellers stopped what they were doing and faced the sky as the Morvren settled on the trees all around.
'An omen?' Matthias said.
Church felt a shiver of darkness touch his heart. 'He's here,' he said.
His comment was underlined by a scream rising up on the edge of the crowd.
'The Libertarian will go all out to stop me reaching the First,' Church said. 'He knows it could be a turning point.'
'You do what you have to do,' Ruth said. 'I'll round up the others and try to head off the Libertarian.'
Before she could move, Veitch ran up. 'That scream — I think it was Rachel. I can't find her anywhere.'
'She's under our protection,' Ruth said. 'If the Libertarian has hurt her, he's going to pay.' She reluctantly dragged her gaze away from Church and left with Veitch before any questions were asked about what she was thinking.
Church decided he didn't need to ask; increasingly, they were seeing the Libertarian as him — not as some other character shaped by an as-yet-unrealised crucible, but as him: his thoughts, his motivations, his hatred. And perhaps they were right.
Matthias grabbed his arm as he made to leave. 'You must ensure no harm comes to the First, or else all is lost.'
Church gave his assurance, and then ran off towards the long fingers of twilight reaching across the landscape. Behind him, the sounds of celebration continued unabated, but night was falling fast.
Chapter Nine
1
Beyond the marshes, the Grim Lands reverted to rocky shale for a few miles before the ground descended along a steep slope to a desert of grey dust that had the same texture as ashes. Occasionally, blackened, twisted trees stood in lonely vigilance on the desolate wastes, giving the impression that the entire area had been swept by a massive conflagration that destroyed even the tiniest particle of life.
'Don't you see,' Caitlin said to Mallory when he raised this thought, 'that everything we pass through is just a different symbol of death and decay. I don't think any of it is real — it's just what we project onto it.' Her voice had the clipped tones of the Morrigan, her eyes dark and unblinking as she searched for any threat in the folds of the dense fog.
Though it was still unmistakably Caitlin, Mallory missed the warmth of his friend when the Morrigan was riding her; he had even grown to miss her separate personalities, as irritating as each of them was in turn. Even calm, the Morrigan cast a frightening shadow; there was always the sense that violence could erupt at any moment.
Ahead of them, Etain and the other Brothers and Sisters of Spiders roamed through the mist, searching for potential danger. The Wayfinder continued to point its path ahead, but they had no idea if they were any closer to their destination, or if the shifting quality of the Grim Lands would keep them wandering for ever; their own brand of purgatory for the sins they had committed in life.
And somewhere at their back was the Hortha, never wavering, eternally vigilant, driving forward until he could take their lives; that, too, was part of their personal purgatory, as frightening in symbol as it was in reality. There would be no rest for either of them, and only death at the end. Bitterly, Mallory wondered if that was a metaphor for life.
Cruel fingers of wind plucked up the ashes and swirled around them, stinging their eyes and pitting their faces. Choking, they wrapped handkerchiefs across their mouths and noses, put their heads down and continued in silence for another mile, fighting against even more limited visibility. Howling, the gale increased in intensity the further they advanced, as if attempting to hold them back.
Thundering hooves brought them up sharply as Etain skidded from the mist to a sudden halt next to them. 'Do not take another step!' she yelled.
The moment she spoke, the wind died and left an eerie silence that reminded Mallory of a just-vacated room. Leaping from her mount, Etain took Mallory and Caitlin's hands and led them forwards a few feet to the edge of a sheer drop. Plucking a pebble from the ashes, Mallory dropped it into the dense fog. There was no sound of it hitting the bottom.
'The Abyss,' Etain said.
Caitlin took the Wayfinder from Mallory and held it aloft. The flame continued to point ahead across the gulf. After exploring in both directions along the edge for several yards, but finding no immediate sign of an end to the drop, he said, 'This makes no sense.'
Tannis, Owein and Branwen dismounted and continued to explore while Caitlin and Mallory conferred with Etain. 'What do we do now?' she said.
'We never thought it was going to be easy,' Caitlin said. 'Whoever, or whatever, took the trouble to hide the Market of Wishful Spirit out here was never going to set up signs for us to find it.'
'So we climb down? That could take for ever,' Mallory said.
'Everyone in the Grim Lands knows there is no bottom to the Abyss,' Etain observed.
'So it's on the other side,' Mallory said.
'There is no other side. This is the boundary between the Grim Lands and the unknown. Nothing passes beyond this point.'
'Ask Hal,' Caitlin said.
'The Blue Fire has little strength here. It might weaken him if he has to manifest himself.' Mallory weighed his options, then peered into the glass panels of the lantern. 'Hal? You there?' He glanced at Caitlin. 'I feel stupid talking to a lamp.'
Caitlin couldn't suppress a smile. 'You telling me your life hasn't prepared you for that?'
'That's right — mock me.' He unhooked the hinge and opened the door that gave access to the wick. The familiar burned-iron odour of the Blue Fire drifted out.
