weakness. He sucked in a deep, juddering breath and seemed to find a little strength from somewhere. 'They don't want to divert their attention from whatever it is they are doing, but they know you are all a threat.'
'What are they doing?'
Tom shook his head. 'Waiting. Making preparations.'
'Can the others stop them without me?' He glanced at Veitch. 'And Ryan?'
Tom seemed to see Church's cellmate for the first time. 'I don't know. I know some things, enough to help, but not everything. The legends of the Brothers and Sisters of Dragons have always talked about them as a unit, greater than the sum of its parts. The power you represent is heightened and focused when you are all brought together. Individually, you have some particular strengths, but-'
'Not enough,' Church finished bleakly.
Somewhere far off through the rock the tolling bell started once again, striking its long dismal notes that seemed to mark the end of them all.
The blast in Salisbury had left Tom weak and disoriented. As he staggered around attempting to find Ruth, the few remaining creatures had attacked him mercilessly. And when he came around, he was in the dark and in the hands of Calatin. The tortures inflicted on him had been intense. It seemed the Night Walkers' plan was in effect, but many elements were finely balanced and the timing was crucial; they could not afford any disruption. Although their infiltration of society was overwhelming, it appeared they feared Church and the others intensely; or rather, feared what Church and the others could do if they were allowed to reach their potential.
'But did you find out anything we could use?' Church said hopelessly.
'I do not know. It is so hard to remember.' Tom seemed disoriented, older than his years. Tenderly he touched the side of his head, where Church could make out the dark smear of encrusted blood.
'Are you okay?' Church enquired; it seemed a serious wound. Tom didn't seem to want to talk about it so Church pressed him again for information. 'At Stonehenge it was obvious you knew more than you were saying. You've got to tell me everything, Tom.'
'Sometimes there's so much in my head,' he said deliriously. 'All those years of thoughts piling up …' Suddenly he seemed to lock on to a random memory. 'Do you want to know how it started?'
'Yes, I'd like that.'
'No, not how it really started. No one knows that. But how it started here. I can tell you that.'
'Go on.'
Tom shifted awkwardly until he found himself a relatively comfortable position. 'You're an educated man. You know about the Celtic myth cycle?'
'A little. Some reading at university-'
'That's where it began. The secret history, locked in a few stories and passed down the years so mankind would never forget the suffering and the terror.'
Church struggled to remember, but it had seemed such an insignificant part of his studies that the details had not remained. 'There was the Tuatha De Danann,' he began hesitantly.
'The name the Celts gave to them. The people of the Goddess liana, the last generation of gods to rule before mankind's ascendence. When they arrived in our world, they brought with them great knowledge and magic from four marvellous cities-Falias, Gorias, Finias and Murias-as well as four talismans: the Stone of Fal, which screamed aloud when touched by the rightful king; the Sword of Nuada, their High King, which inflicted only fatal blows; the Spear of Lugh, the sun god; and above all else, the Cauldron of Dagda, the Allfather of the gods, source of life and death and healing.'
'Yes! Those are the things we're searching for-'
'People have always been searching for them. No one ever finds them.'
'But we have to. To free the … the Golden Ones.' He told Tom about the woman in the Watchtower.
Tom snorted. 'She is of the Danann. Of course she wants her people freed. But to find the talismans … They are more than they appear to be to human eyes, powerful symbols that …' His voice trailed off. 'Listen to me. These gods and everything they deal with are so alien they are unknowable. Their appearances, their motivations … the best our minds can do is give them some shape that's recognisable to us. Some are closer to us, like the woman you encountered between the worlds. Some are so incomprehensible we cannot even begin to give them form.'
'The creatures here-?'
Tom nodded. 'Too terrible for your mind to bear, but it can be taught to give them shape. The Celts called them the Fomorii. Misshapen, violent, they were supposed to have come from the waters to invade this world. They were, to all intents and purposes, the manifestation of evil, a corruption, perhaps, or an infestation. The embodiment of negativity, constantly striving to drag the cosmos into chaos and darkness. And they were led by the most devastating, destructive force of all-the Celts called him Balor, the one-eyed god of death. The legends claimed he was so dreadful that whoever he turned his eye upon was destroyed.'
Tom's description was so desolate Church felt a blanket of hopelessness descend on him. He couldn't tell if Veitch felt it too; his head was lowered, his expression hidden by his hair.
'The Fomorii came like a tidal wave,' Tom continued. 'The Tuatha D6 Danann were unprepared. They were enslaved and the Fomorii established a reign of terror that became known as the Eternal Night.'
'But the Danann struck back.' Church recalled the woman in the Watchtower's account. 'They had the power to defeat the Fomorii.'
Tom nodded. 'The war leader Nuada led the Danann in a counterstrike, but he seemed doomed to defeat until he was joined by Lugh, the sun god, who was part Fomorii. In the stories, his grandfather was Balor. At the second battle of Magh Tuireadh, Lugh plunged his spear into Balor's eye, killing him instantly. The Fomorii were demoralised; the Danann easily regained power. But there had been too much destruction and suffering-even for gods-for things to return to the way they had been before. To preserve some kind of order, a truce was reached-the Covenant. Both the Danann and the Fomorii would leave earth to man and return forever to the Danann homeland which the Celts called Otherworld. And they took with them almost every magical creature, everything which couldn't abide by the strict laws that would remain in their passing. That exodus was known as the Sundering and it was the end of the Age of Wonders, known also as the Age of Terror.'
'You're just talking about bleedin' stories!' Veitch said with exasperation.
Tom closed his eyes and laid his head back wearily. 'The stories can only begin to hint at the truths of those days-they are coded messages from the distant past. There have been other legends in other cultures attempting to make sense of what happened, but the Celts came the closest in their descriptions, which is why they have been the most enduring. The stories are confused-the gods were given different names by the different Celtic tribes across Europebut in essence they were all talking about the same thing.'
'So they left us behind for good-'
'Not wholly. The boundaries between Otherworld and here were supposed to be sealed, but there were weak spots, the mounds, the lakes and rivers-the liminal zones.' Tom's voice continually faded away, then grew stronger, so Church had to strain to hear what he was saying. 'Some of the gods crossed back over for brief excursions or exerted their influence from Otherworld. Some of the magical creatures too. And sometimes people from here found their way over there.'
'I remember now,' Church interjected. 'The Celtic gods slowly metamorphosed into our faery myths and Otherworld became Faeryland. The keepers of treasure and secrets, mischiefmakers-'
'Mischief?' Church was taken aback by the venom in Tom's voice. 'They interfered with us down the years, tormenting people, tricking people. Yes, sometimes it was just lights in the sky, strange sightings of lake monsters, nocturnal manifestations. And sometimes it was slaughter.'
'That's all very interesting,' Veitch said sarcastically, 'but it doesn't exactly help us, does it?'
'Any information helps you,' Tom replied.
'It tells us the Danann have defeated the Fomorii before and they can do it again,' Church said. 'It tells us there's hope.'
'It doesn't tell us how to get out of this bleedin' cage!'
'You could have mentioned all this before,' Church said sharply.
'I could have.'
'How do you know all this? Did the Bone Inspector tell you?'
'Some of it.' There was a long silence in which he seemed to be wrestling with his thoughts, and then he
