voice.
'You're going to die too, old man,' Laura replied.
'I'm going to be running back through those corridors as fast as my arthritic knees will carry me while they're turning you into mulch,' Tom said.
'Oh, come on,' Hunter said. 'It's not about winning or losing. It's about dying in such a spectacular manner that it becomes high art.'
'Actually, it is about winning for me,' Veitch said.
'Shut up!' Church gritted his teeth and raised Caledfwlch over his shoulder. 'And fight!'
The tidal wave broke against them.
Church fought like a fury with Veitch barely a foot from his side, one troubled eye always on his friend, noting with each passing moment how quickly Church was moving down the road towards becoming the Libertarian; it was etched in his face, in the brutality with which he despatched the Enemy, in his cold, unflinching focus.
But soon both were left behind by Hunter, who moved through the ranks with the Balor Claw, bodies falling apart with every sweep of his hand; no one got near him.
'Blimey, where can I get me one of them?' Veitch shouted.
'Sorry, one of a kind,' Hunter responded. 'Just like me.' He moved with the easy grace of a fieldworker scything through long grass, but with every death his lips moved as he consigned the face to memory.
'They're too efficient,' Veitch said. 'It's that bleedin' god controlling them. They should be going crazy with us ploughing through them like this.'
'Leave that to me.' While the battle raged around her, Laura achieved a moment of absolute calm. Her attention focused on Yen-Lo-Wang floating above. The skulls hanging from him appeared to move with a life of their own as he controlled every thought of the advancing army and directed them towards one purpose: death.
Plucking a seed from her pocket, Laura tossed it into the air. As it spun towards Yen-Lo-Wang, it sprouted shoots, its momentum increasing. Yen-Lo-Wang did not see it until the last. Inches from his face, a woody tendril burst forth and prised its way between his lips. An expression of surprise flourished on his face and then Laura let the Blue Fire rise up within her and shift through the spectrum towards green. Growing at an incredible rate, the tendril searched the intimate byways of Yen-Lo-Wang's body, filling every space as it passed. When it reached its limit, Laura gave one burst of concentration and the tendril doubled in size. A loud PAK accompanied the explosion of Yen-Lo-Wang's corporeal form.
A wave of disorientation ran through the ocean of bodies. Church, Veitch and Hunter renewed their attack, so many dismembered corpses piled around them that they had built their own defences.
'Nice one, darlin',' Veitch said, 'but we're only scratching the surface here.' The glance he exchanged with Hunter expressed more clearly his fears that they would be overwhelmed in a very short time.
Hunter brushed his forehead as his mind felt the gentle touch of his 'brother'. 'Cavalry's coming. Maybe it's not the Alamo after all.'
From the rooftops, the Fomorii swarmed. Dropping into the arena, their gleaming black bodies snapped, shifted, mutated, sprouting wings, fangs, armour, razor-sharp cutting spikes, crab-like claws, barbed blades, hooked drills, crushing jaws. Efficient machines, they plunged into the middle of the packed bodies and were instantly lost in a whirl of activity that sent limbs and blood spraying high into the air.
The utter confusion they caused was only the beginning. Close behind the Fomorii came the gods. Gleaming gold in the hellish gloom, the Tuatha De Danaan burst from doorways around the arena with Lugh at their head and set about the Enemy fiercely. Behind them were the others, wielding hammers, axes, spears, filled with the hopes of different cultures but all connected by the same threads of Blue Fire.
Viracocha, burning like the sun come down to Earth. Ogoun, surrounded by the heat and smoke of a furnace as he wielded his machete. Benten, the sheer power of her beauty forcing the Enemy to lay down their arms. After a while, they became like flashes of light reflected off burnished metal, flitting through the darkness. Soon the Army of Dragons raced from the maze of corridors to join them, their power limited to the courage in their hearts, but no less for that.
The blue light that surrounded the Brothers and Sister of Dragons dimmed as Church lowered Caledfwlch. Oblivious to the others around him, concentration turned his face to stone. An instant later he was looking at the churning army from the perspective of the Fabulous Beast, while at the same time facing the ranks of the brutish creatures struggling to get over the mound of bodies.
Down he dived, swooping low over their heads, and then released a blast of purifying fire that gave him a shudder of pleasure. A smoking, blackened path scoured through the Enemy towards the Burning Man. As Church returned to his body, the Morvren flocked down to form a swirling black cloud around him, cawing and shrieking with voices that sounded almost human, and gleeful.
Veitch was forced to back away a step. He eyed Tom and Shavi uneasily, and weighed his sword in his hands. Neither gave him the guidance he needed.
Church's angry voice broke through the deafening wings — 'I can do anything!' — and the birds rushed as one towards Janus. The god disappeared in the storm cloud and when the birds dissipated, he was gone.
Veitch caught Church's arm as he prepared to advance down the smouldering path. 'You gotta watch out for the Black Fire, mate. One wrong step and it's game over.'
'When I was up there a minute ago I saw a pattern,' Church replied. 'We've had prophecies of this day tied up in the old stories for millennia, but there's also been clues hidden in it.'
'How so?'
'Spirals carved into rocks from Neolithic times. Spiral patterns in Celtic artwork. Their story of the spiral path as a journey through life. Those things were put there so we'd remember them, and think about their meaning. The Spiral Path marks how the Blue Fire runs in the land, but it's also the way through the maze of Black Fire. Those clues were left for us to read now.'
'Church, you have to prepare yourself for the possibility that Ruth may already be dead,' Shavi said. 'The Libertarian may be tricking you with hope.'
Church glanced at Tom, who gave nothing away. 'If she's dead-'
'If she's dead and you let yourself become the Libertarian, you killed her.' Laura caught his hand. 'Don't go down that road, Church-dude. You can fight it. That's why you're the big old chosen one, and not the rest of us losers.'
Church turned and moved away along the Spiral Path before any of them had the chance to see if he had accepted Laura's words.
They followed him, as they always had, as they always would, cutting down any of the Enemy that attempted to impede their route. Around the arena they raced, always moving closer to the acrid smell of burning that was worse than any of the other fires raging across the Fortress.
The feet of the Burning Man disappeared deep into an abyss separated by the bridge that ran between them. Beneath it a tunnel plunged, following the line of the bridge. Church knew he would have to descend into it even before he reached the yawning entrance. The vision he had received in the Forbidden City was as clear as if he had lived it: broken, on his knees before the Libertarian, in the dark beneath the arena with the abyss on either side and the legs of the Burning Man turning the cavern into hell. Despair gripped Church as he realised he couldn't see any way that that future would not come to be.
Steeling himself, he raced into the dark with the shrieks of the Morvren echoing in his ears.
4
Anxious, Hunter, Laura, Shavi and Veitch paused briefly at the entrance. Nearby, Tom held his head with both hands.
'This is it,' Hunter said. 'We can't hold back any longer. If it looks like he's going to become the Libertarian, one of us has to stop him. And by that, you know what I mean.'
'I'll do it,' Veitch said. 'It's my responsibility.'
'You can't,' Laura said desperately. 'He's the king. That's what you keep calling him. The king.'
'Throughout history, when the land has to be saved or renewed, the king has to be sacrificed,' Tom
