'It just shows how fragile everything is. We can't take anything for granted. You and me. What we feel for each other. There's always a threat waiting, beyond the path, in the forest.' He kissed the top of her head, closed his eyes and indulged himself in the warmth from her body. 'I think you're right — there is a darkness inside me. And you. We know what happens when you get caught up in the power of the Craft, right?'
She stiffened, realising the truth of this for the first time.
'And that's how it should be. Because without that darkness we wouldn't be able to fight. We'd be useless. That's where we find our anger, our drive. I've been thinking more and more about the rules hidden in life about us, and particularly in that whole duality thing. It's everywhere, in every aspect of life. Two faces. Light and dark. Summer and winter. Even Cernunnos has two faces — his light side and his dark side, the Erl-King. We need both. The trick is not to let that darkness dominate. I… we… have to fight every day to keep it under control because there's always a chance it could break through. I could become the Libertarian. You could destroy everything! But we can fight, and we can win. We just mustn't… stray from the path… of you and me, and what we believe in.'
She was silent for a moment; he couldn't see her face in the dark to judge her mood. Then she said, 'But doesn't that mean Existence is wrong to destroy the Void? We need both of them.'
'I don't know. I do know that the Void is going to destroy us and Existence if it gets its way. This battle has been building since the beginning of time. Who knows what the outcome's going to be?'
She kissed him deeply. 'I'm sorry,' she said, 'for almost making a mess of things.'
'That's what we do, right?'
Behind a tent, away from the buzz of people returning to the campfire, she pulled him down and kissed him again. Within moments, they were deep in passion, an act of love that was also an act of magic. The world flashed by, the sounds of the camp and the jubilant roar of Cernunnos, all lost to the rhythm of their bodies and the beat of their blood. When they were finished, they held each other in silence and remembered what they had overcome to be there. Neither of them thought about what the following day would bring.
In the hazy half-world on the edge of sleep, Church had an impression of someone circling them slowly, close to the ground. He saw bright eyes and a wide grin filled with mischief.
The voice rolled out, rich and wry: 'The Merry Wanderer of the Night looks after fools and lovers. Dream on, sweet children, and dream the world a'right.'
3
Dawn came up hard on the blasted lands. The red sun turned the desolate landscape to blood and within an hour the heat was unforgiving. The remnants of the Army of Dragons gathered to see Church and the others off. Church felt undeserving of the awe he saw in their respectful faces, but he understood their need for inspiration and moved through them, shaking hands and exchanging comments with the ones he knew personally.
Finally he came to Ronnie who gave him a formal salute. 'Sir!'
'You're going to be fine, Ronnie.'
'I miss Decebalus, sir.'
'We all do.' He glanced at Aula in the crowd, who had swapped her white Roman gown for black armour; her face was scrubbed and her hair cut short. 'But you're a Brother of Dragons, Ronnie. And you'll be a better leader than most of the others here. You've seen what heartless leadership can do.'
'I hope I can do you proud, sir.'
'Just watch out for the Fabulous Beasts. You'll know when to make your move.'
Church was surprised to see that many of the gods had turned out too. Tyr clapped him hard on the back and roared with laughter. Freyja seductively kissed his hand, to Ruth's annoyance, and Lei-Gong bowed formally.
'The thunder and the lightning are at your disposal, Brother of Dragons,' he said.
Church was increasingly disturbed to see the other gods watching him with hints of the same awe that had gripped the Army of Dragons; before, they had viewed him with contempt or humour. Was he that changed?
Finally, on the edge of the camp, the Tuatha De Danaan waited in gleaming ranks. Lugh stepped out and took Church's hand, and then shook the hands of each of the Brothers and Sisters of Dragons and Tom's too. 'This may well be the last time we meet,' he said. 'I am proud to have known you. Fragile Creatures no more — you are the equals of the Golden Ones. You are prepared to sacrifice all you have for our race. We can do no less for you. And if, this day, the Golden Ones are eradicated, keep us in your hearts and remember us fondly, Jack Giant-Killer, for we were spoiled and arrogant, but we brought joy and magic to the lands and that should be our monument.'
'It will be.' Church hesitated and then gave Lugh a hug. The god appeared surprised at first, but accepted the bond.
As they moved out into the blasted lands, Church and the others could feel the eyes of the Tuatha De Danaan on their backs, and the attention of the other gods and the Army of Dragons. Despite their best intentions, it felt like an ending.
4
Her face streaked with tears, her clothes filthy with the sticky ochre dust, Laura staggered across the blasted lands. She had no idea where she was going, just that she had to get away, away from the consequences of her terrible betrayals and the lies and the guilt. If she had stayed with the others she knew she would only have betrayed them again, and again, until they were all dead like Hunter, and the dreams of the Blue Fire and the hopes of all those who believed in Existence were ashes. She would do that. She would destroy anything, friends, strangers, entire worlds. She wouldn't stop until there was nothing left.
She was pleased the blasted lands were so free of moisture. She'd cried herself out, and her abilities needed her to be hydrated to work properly. If she kept walking, she wondered if she might finally dry up and die like any plant left too long in that place.
'I'm not human,' she muttered to herself. 'The girl I was is gone. What's here is nothing. It doesn't matter any more if I die. Who would care, right?'
Her rambling was disturbed by a long, low call rolling out across the hardpan. Through her daze, she thought it sounded familiar. Glancing back, at first she saw only the dust and the haze, but eventually a dark shape emerged from the glare, bulky, moving fast towards her. She watched it for a moment as her skittering thoughts coalesced and then recognition surfaced from the murk.
'Shit. Shit. Shit!'
Drawing energy from depths she didn't know she had, she broke into a mad scramble. Cernunnos, the god of the green, the power in nature itself, was her patron and her guide. He owned her. And now he was coming to destroy her for her grand betrayal.
Choking on the dust, Laura dived behind a tower of rock, hoping it would hide her from view long enough to decide on an alternative course. She'd taken only four steps when the ground shifted under her feet and a hand snapped around her ankle.
'Bastard! Get off!' She kicked out, only to be thrown roughly onto her back by a brutish, hairless figure rising quickly from where it had been lying hidden in the dust. It was the colour of the rocks, with skin like a lizard's and double-lidded eyes that would protect it from the dust-storms that blew across the blasted lands.
Before Laura could fight back, it had clamped one large, rubbery hand over her mouth and pulled her up under its arm as if she were a doll. Then, with a lurching gait, it loped rapidly across the hardpan. Laura's struggles were quickly contained with a few hard punches, and by the time her senses had stopped reeling, they were below ground level on a dry river bed.
Rounding a bend, Laura saw a force of around two hundred — Lament-Brood, Redcaps and many more like the brutish creature that held her tight. The ranks parted to let her captor run deep into their midst and then closed behind them. Laura was thrown roughly onto the pebbly bed. Dazed, she staggered to her feet, cursing loudly, not caring if they turned on her and killed her there and then.
'Well, a Sister of Dragons.' The voice was rich and mocking; and familiar.
