'You sold us all out.' The intensity of hatred in Veitch's voice made Church feel almost uncomfortable.
'Now, now,' Callow cautioned. 'You must accept some responsibility. If young Mr. Churchill had not been so indiscreet about what was happening to the world that night in the tavern, I would not have been prepared when I did encounter my good allies here.' He sighed theatrically. 'Oh, how strange fate is. I knew sooner or later you would involve yourself in something that would favour me, so after our evening's wassailing I resolved to follow you. I must admit, after the devastation you wreaked at the depot in Salisbury I thought things might be a little too hot even for me. But then I met my good friends!' Callow seemed about to clap Calatin on the shoulders, then thought twice about it. 'They made it easier for me to shadow you. But at a distance it was so hard to discern exactly what you had achieved; it required a little, shall we say, investigative skill on my behalf. Did you ever wonder who had gained access to your car? Your tents?'
'I'm going to kill you.' Witch's voice was low and understated, but the words contained power.
'I don't think so,' Callow replied sneeringly, but Church could see a flicker of unease in his eyes.
Calatin lurched forward unsteadily, knocking Callow out of the way; he looked even sicker than he had in the mine. 'You still do not seem to understand exactly what has occurred. Your loss of the Quadrillax has destroyed more than merely your own feeble attempt to stop our advance. Through all time and all space, their significance has radiated: objects of such power that we never dared achieve our ultimate dream-the eradication of all light from the universe. Our victories were always tempered. We settled for control, in the certain knowledge that a step too far would rebound on us tenfold. Now, anything is possible.'
As he neared, Church's gorge rose at the hideous stink coming off him. Calatin bent down and lowered the living dagger until its tip was only an inch from Church's right eye. Church tried not to blink, nor even to think about what Calatin was going to do next; the Fomor had revealed his sadism quite plainly in the mine's torture chamber. He thought for a moment, then lowered it to Church's cheek, where he pressed its razored edge into the soft flesh and made a slight downward cut. Church winced as the blood flowed.
'With the Quadrillax in our hands, everything has been lost. And you are responsible.' He showed a row of blackened teeth and released a blast of foul breath into Church's face.
'You're going to destroy them?' Church asked once he had recovered.
Calatin peered at him as if he were insane, then rose and limped away. 'They will be taken from here to our nearest retreat, where they will be encased in molten iron, then buried in the furthest reaches of the earth, never to be recovered-'
'What about Balor?' Shavi interrupted.
Calatin whirled, his eyes blazing, but slowly the insipid smile returned to his face. 'The Highfather will soon be back,' he said in a manner that made Church shiver, 'and the glory will be mine.'
Then he turned and yelled out something in the guttural Fomorii language before limping away. A second later Church, Shavi and Veitch were wrenched up in the black mass of bodies and swept away.
Ruth watched the scene in horror from the treetop branch, then turned to Nina, who motioned that they should return. The brief journey back to the cottage contained none of the awe and wonder Ruth had felt during her first flight, just a sense of impending doom and a feeling of utter futility. Nina led the way back down the chimney and as they emerged into the main room, Ruth had the same sensation of being fired from a cannon as she rushed back into her prone body. A second later, she stirred, feeling leaden and stupid, her thoughts no longer quicksilver; her mouth felt as if she had awoken after a night on the tiles; all her muscles were aching. The loss seemed so great her eyes filled with tears.
'I could have stayed like that forever,' she said.
'And there lies the danger.' Nina levered herself to her feet, stumbling awkwardly. 'Spend too long in that form and your essence begins to break down, dissipate like smoke, until you return to the universe.'
Ruth rose and dressed dismally, trying to tell herself it was simply the effects of coming down off the drug. But as the initial edge of her experience began to fade, the threat facing them returned in force.
'I can't let them take Church and the others to that awful black tower. I can't let them take the talismans. But what can I do?'
Nina nodded sympathetically. 'There were so many of them-'
'They've got a way to go to reach the tower. We could head them offl'
'You're starting to sound like John Wayne.' Nina's faint humour underlined the futility of what Ruth was saying, but she wasn't going to be deterred.
'Will you come with me?'
Nina shook her head. 'I love my life too much. If there was a chance-'
'Then I'll have to try it alone. I can't give up.' She fastened her jacket and strode defiantly to the door.
'Wait.' Nina hurried to the dresser and returned with what appeared to be a piece of root with grass and vines wrapped around it. 'I laboured hard over that. Slip it in your pocket. It won't make you invisible to the things out there, but it should mask your presence enough to make it easier for you to travel through the countryside at night.'
Ruth thanked her, but her mind was already on what lay ahead. As she opened the door and slipped out, Nina called behind her, 'Be true to your destiny. Blessed be.' And then the door slammed shut and Ruth was alone in the night.
It was a real effort to scramble up the steep hillside amongst the trees, but soon she was at the road. It was deserted, with no sign that the Fomorii had ever been there. Callow's car had gone too, and Ruth presumed they were using it to transport the talismans because the Fomorii were unable to touch them.
She ran to the van, then swore angrily; she didn't have the keys. 'Laura!' she called out. 'It's Ruth.' At first there was no answer and Ruth feared the worst, then she heard what seemed to be a stream of abuse in a frail voice. 'Never mind that. Open the doors.'
It took an agonisingly long time, but finally the doors swung open. Laura hung on the handle, obviously in great pain, barely able to hold herself up. 'It's freezing,' she said hoarsely. 'I thought I was going to die in here.'
'There's still a chance for that.' Ruth clambered past her. 'God, I hope your shady past taught you how to hotwire an ignition system.'
'Yes, but if you think I'm going to crawl under a steering wheel-'
'Just tell me!' Ruth heaved herself over the back of the seats. 'I never thought I'd say this, but I'm glad it's you here and not someone who's lawabiding.' She paused. 'How come they left you here?'
'I guess they thought I was dead after what that bastard did. No one figured to look in the van.'
Laura guided Ruth through the process, laughing at Ruth's scream as she almost burned her fingers in the flash as the spark jumped between the two wires. Once the engine roared into life, Ruth slammed the van into first and pulled on to the road. While she powered through the gears, Laura told how she had listened to the attack of the Baobhan Sith and everything that happened after, while keeping as quiet as she could to avoid detection.
'How do you feel?' Ruth asked.
'Like I've been slashed into bloody chunks with a razor. How do you think I feel?'
'Just asking.'
There was a long pause and then Laura said, 'I could do with some more painkillers.'
'Hurts?'
'Like hell. I think some of the wounds have opened up.' Ruth heard Laura shift around under the pile of sleeping bags that were supposed to be keeping her warm. 'Sorry I'm not going to be much use.'
'Even if you were fighting fit, there wouldn't be much you could do.'
'No big plan, then?'
Ruth didn't answer. She didn't even know what she was doing. The thought of that mass of Fomorii filled her with dread. The only way she could avoid paralysis was to keep moving on instinct, ignoring the ringing alarms in her head that were saying her futile act was going to be the death of her.
She took the treacherous bends at breakneck speed, peering over the wheel for some sign of the Fomorii. She knew they couldn't have travelled far in the time since she had left the cottage, so she killed the lights and cruised by the light of the moon, using the central white lines for guidance. She had the window wound down a little, listening for the cacophany of grunts and shrieks, but the night was eerily still, just the rustling of the trees and the singing of the tires on the road.
Then, as she rounded the next bend, she saw the seething mass ahead of her, moving in complete silence-
