another space opened-a doorway this time-on the other side of the chamber. Veitch whooped triumphantly as Church grabbed the sword and then they were all swimming frantically to the doorway. On the other side was a tight spiral of stairs rising steeply. They scrambled up high above the water level and crashed down on to the steps in exhaustion.
'I don't believe it,' Church gasped. 'I don't bloody believe it!'
Tom removed his glasses and rubbed a hand over his weary eyes. 'There was another dimension to the puzzle,' he said. 'The key was sacrifice. It would not give up the sword until we showed we understood sacrifice.'
'You're talking like it knew what we were doing.' Veitch had a satisfied, slightly amazed smile on his face. He closed his eyes and lay back on the steps until his breathing returned to normal. Then he sat up and said, 'Let's have a look at it, then.'
Church laid the sword on the steps and held the Wayfinder over it so they could examine it. Few would have given it a second glance. It was of a bare, basic design and appeared to be made of iron which had corroded badly; there were no distinguishing marks or aesthetic elements at all.
But it was obvious from Witch's face that he was seeing something different. 'Excalibur?' he asked reverentially.
'The Sword of Nuada Airgetlamh,' Church corrected. He glanced at Tom, who had a flicker of a knowing smile on his lips. 'Or perhaps they're different names for the same thing, for something that can't be defined.'
'That is the problem with legends,' Tom said wryly. 'They are imprecise ways of defining the indefinable.'
'You two bastards should never be allowed to talk to each other,' Veitch grumbled, pulling himself to his feet. 'Let's get out of here before the water finds us.'
As Church rose, he turned to Veitch and said awkwardly, 'Thanks. You know, for what you did-'
Veitch shifted uncomfortably. 'No problem.' Then, 'You're not going to bloody hug me, are you?'
'No, I'm not!' Church said indignantly. 'Come on. Let's climb.'
The steps ascended steeply in a spiral so tight it made them dizzy; they had to rest at regular intervals. Yet their success had left them with a strange euphoria, as if they had started living only at that moment; the sharp, salty tang in the air, the touch of the hard, cold rock, the echoes of their feet, the shimmering blue light reflected off the wet walls, all seemed heightened to such a degree they almost seemed like new experiences. The sword was strangely warm against Church's back as they scrambled up the rough-hewn steps; if he allowed himself to think about it, he would have noted it almost felt alive, like some unseen friend was resting an arm against him.
The steps ended suddenly at a stone ceiling on which was carved a stylised image of a dragon with a serpent-like body. There was another brief flurry of blue sparks when Church placed both hands on it and heaved, and then, with a loud creak, a square trapdoor eased open, revealing a patch of star-sprinkled sky. Church hauled himself out on to clipped grass and then offered a hand to Veitch and Tom.
They were on the windswept top of the island where the oldest part of the castle stood. All around, Church could see the broken foundations and rough outlines of buildings that dated back to the Celts.
'We did it!' Veitch said with a broad grin. Even Tom allowed himself a tight smile of triumph.
'If Laura and Ruth got away, we're two artefacts down and only two to go,' Church noted with a grin. 'You know, I think we're going to do it.'
'That was a buzz and a half!' Veitch continued exuberantly. 'Better than drugs. This is what life's about!'
The small island was just a high mound of rock covered by scrubby grass and the ruins. From their vantage point they could look down on the surrounding coastline where the sea crashed in eruptions of white foam, and in the distance the lights of the village of Tintagel blazed like a beacon.
'You reckon we can get a room for the night? I don't fancy kipping in a ditch,' Veitch asked as they headed in the direction of the bridge over the thin neck of rock that joined the island to the mainland.
Before Church could answer, the wind died briefly and they heard the unnerving fluttering sound that had pursued them into the cave earlier. Tom's face grew taut; in the excitement he had obviously forgotten about it too.
'What is that?' Veitch asked anxiously. They stood stock-still, listening intently; it seemed to be coming from the direction of the bridge. As it grew louder it sounded like a sheet flapping in the wind, but there were other disturbing notes which they couldn't place.
Church looked behind him. The land fell away sharply into treacherously steep, crumbling cliffs. 'There's no other way out, is there?'
'I said, what is it?' This time Veitch gripped Tom's arm, who shook it off roughly, then started to cast around for some place to turn.
While the others held back, Church ran to the ruins of a chapel and peered down the bank to the Inner Ward, fifty yards away from where the noise seemed to be emanating. He saw several dark shapes moving cautiously through the castle and, at the head of them, a strange disturbance in the air; he could see movement, but the shadows prevented him picking out any detail. Two of the shapes waited at the top of the steps which were the only exit from the island.
'Fomorii?' Tom asked him when he ran back to them.
'I think. And something else too, but I can't make it out. There's no way past them.'
'Then we fight the bastards here.' Veitch's bravado belied the fear in his eyes. He pulled out his gun and examined it-they all knew it would do no good-before returning it to his pocket and removing a long hunting knife from a sheath he had hidden under his jacket.
'I got it while you two were buying the food in Launceston,' he said.
'I didn't think you had any cash,' Church noted.
'I don't.' He looked away uncomfortably, then pointed to a small jumble of foundations near where the land fell away on to the cliffs. 'If we make a stand there, they won't be able to come up behind us.'
As they hurried towards the spot, Church pulled out the sword; Tom shied away from it instantly. It seemed to shift slightly in Church's hand, as if it were settling into his grip. The warmth he had noted earlier flowed up his tendons into his forearm.
'That thing looks like it'll fall apart if you clout anything with it,' Veitch said.
'It's got power inside it, I can feel it. I reckon I can do a bit of damage.'
They were aware of the Fomorii approaching before the dark shapes had separated from the shadows; the attackers were preceded by an unpleasant feeling that operated beyond the five senses, churning the stomach and making their throats constrict. Tom brushed Church's and Veitch's temple briefly. 'You will keep your senses when you see them,' he said quietly.
'Magic?' Veitch grunted. 'You bloody well are Merlin.'
'Shut up,' Tom snapped.
The fluttering sound grew much louder as the hideously misshapen figures gradually took form. They crested the summit of the island and began to move forward, powerfully and relentlessly. In the centre of the approaching force was an intense, tightly constrained mass of whirling shapes.
As it drew nearer, Church picked details out of the gloom, until he said querulously, 'Birds?'
'Crows,' Tom corrected.
'Mollecht.' Church winced at the memory of Tom's description.
The crows were swirling around, wings flapping madly yet seeming never to collide with each other. Their incredibly complex pattern suggested the shape of a man at their core, but it was impossible to see any sign of him.
Witch gasped as the birds swept across the grass towards them with an eerie, unnatural speed; it was such a terrifying sight that the other Fomorii seemed insignificant.
Tom was muttering something under his breath, prayers or protective incantations, Church couldn't tell which. Veitch kept glancing down at the hunting knife in his hand, now made pathetic and useless. He went to throw it away, then clutched it tight for security.
Church took a deep breath and cleared all thoughts from his head. Ignoring the fear, he stepped in front of the other two and held the sword up with both hands. He moved it awkwardly, but somehow it seemed to correct its balance itself. From the corner of his eye, he thought he glimpsed a crackle of blue fire along its edge.
It had an immediate effect. The crows came to a sudden halt about twenty feet away and began to shift back
