A Quantum Mythology (29 page)

‘I just woke everyone up.’

Isaiah’s vision was red. It was filled with warning symbols from the habitat’s systems. Through the transparent wall of the control room he could see the first explosions blossom as fires sprang up in all three sections.
The Church wouldn’t do it this way
, Isaiah managed to think through the drug-suppressed panic.

‘Inform Mr Hat,’ Isaiah told Al.

21

Ancient Britain

There were more than two hundred horse-mounted warriors in the broad, shallow trench. Tangwen had walked up and down counting them. She was sure some were from the Regni, others were definitely from the Atrebates, but many were from tribes she did not know. There were no spear-carrying landsmen or -women with them, only the warrior nobility. Most were men, though the scouts who wore the lynx headdresses appeared to be mainly female.

‘Not like this,’ Tangwen muttered to herself.

The warriors had mostly ignored her. She was a small, wiry female with a scarred face, of no interest to them. Some were nervously preparing for battle, others talking a bit too loudly, using bravado to mask their fear. Many who had seen war before were just waiting grimly for it to start. The whole area carried the stink of horse, leather and sweat.

The horses, seasoned though they might be, were obviously nervous. They knew something unnatural was coming. Many of the warriors had dismounted to calm their horses, and would mount again at the last moment. They intended to charge into the forest and face the monsters. It was madness, but Tangwen knew the warrior mindset. She would no more be able to dissuade them from their actions than teach them to fly. Many would need to die before the rest understood what was happening.

Tangwen heard cries from where she had left the rest of the survivors. She turned and ran down the line, still ignored by most of the warriors present. Then she heard angry shouting, the unmistakable sound of metal hitting flesh, hard, and then more cries.

Ahead of her through the trees she could see a number of the bear-skull-wearing warriors surrounding Kush, who was crouched low, his red-dripping axe at the ready. She watched as one moved towards him. Kush swung the axe. Even as she ran, Tangwen saw the bear-skull-wearing warrior’s shield break, and the warrior was taken off his feet by the force of Kush’s blow. As she closed on them, she saw another of the warriors lying on the ground, his chest a red mess of split bones.

‘So you’re one of the demons,’ she heard a warrior say. He started turning as he heard Tangwen’s approach. Tangwen caught him just below the chin with the butt of her spear, forcing the leather armour around his neck into his throat. He went down choking. Another of the warriors turned and swung at her. She rolled under the blade and up on her feet, back-to-back with Kush.

‘What do you think you’re doing?’ she demanded furiously.

Nearby, Essyllt was lying on the ground, close to her litter. One of the two Brigante who’d been helping to carry the litter was lying senseless next to her, a livid red mark showing where he’d been hit in the head. The other litter-bearer had a bloodied mouth, but was trying to help Essyllt back to her pallet.

‘Who are you to speak to us like that, woman?’ one of the warriors demanded. His nose exploded and spread itself across his face as the butt of Tangwen’s spear crushed it. He staggered back. He looked ready to use the heavy iron blade he was holding easily in his right hand.

‘I’ll have courtesy, or you’ll have the sharp end of my spear,’ she told him.

The man glared at her and then smiled through his thick, white-streaked, bushy beard. He was a large man, about equal parts fat and muscle. A half-closed dead-eye, two fingers remaining on his left hand and a patchwork of scar tissue on his face told of a long life as a warrior. His boiled-leather armour was also well scarred, and had been stained black at some point in its past. He started to laugh, a low, rumbling sound.

‘I like you, but I want to kill the demon,’ he told her.

‘So did your friend, and look where that got him.’ She nodded to the corpse on the ground. ‘And this is no demon. Don’t make excuses for your people’s weakness.’

‘They wanted to burn Essyllt and some of the others,’ Kush managed.

‘Why?’ she demanded of the thick-set bearded man. The man she’d hit in the throat appeared to be recovering and more warriors were surrounding them. Back in the trees she could see the other survivors advancing. Some of them had makeshift weapons and looked just about desperate enough to use them. Germelqart had his club. She saw Mabon, knife in hand, moving and ready to attack one of the armoured warriors. It would be a massacre.

‘They have the sickness,’ the bearded man said.

‘So?’ replied Tangwen.

‘We burn them, it doesn’t spread.’

‘They have travelled with us, and none of us has caught it. It comes from the spawn of Andraste, abominations of the goddess, not the afflicted themselves.’

‘Are you a
dryw
, to know this?’

‘Are
you
?’ Tangwen demanded angrily.

The warrior opened his mouth to answer.

‘Nerthach acts under my orders.’ The voice was quiet enough, but carried. Tangwen risked a quick glance in the direction from which it came. The speaker wore the black robe of a
dryw
, one of the sacrificers. The robe was open – he wore armour underneath it – and although he leaned on a gnarled staff, a sheathed sword hung from his belt. The hood of his robe hid most of his facial features, but a long beard with a braided moustache hung down from it. He was built similarly to the warrior with the dead-eye but looked to be less fat and more muscle. Tangwen was pretty sure she knew who he was.

‘You’re Bladud, aren’t you?’ she asked warily. She left out the rest of the name he was known by.

‘I am Bladud, called Witch King, and I was trained as a
dryw
. I ordered the sick burned.’

‘You intend to fight their sickness with iron when they come, yet you would burn the afflicted now? That makes no sense,’ Tangwen said. Her spear was still ready, as was Kush’s axe. She knew Bladud by reputation. All knew his name. Formerly a
dryw
, he had broken the ban on
dryw
taking part in battles. For his actions he had been censored on a number of occasions, and once even subject to the great disgrace that was a satire. When the last king of the Brigante died, Bladud claimed there was nobody other than himself fit to lead, and his people agreed. He was cast out of the
dryw
and told he was forever hidden from the sight of the gods. He had a fearsome reputation for conducting warfare with the aid of his magics.

‘You will all catch the sickness when they get close enough to you. Will you burn yourself on a pyre?’ Tangwen asked him.

Bladud pushed his hood down. He was quite old, by Tangwen’s reckoning, perhaps even as much as forty summers. His head was shorn of hair and a spiderweb of scar tissue covered the skin of his scalp.

‘If need be.’

‘Your weapons cannot harm them.’

‘How do we know she isn’t one of them?’ the man called Nerthach asked. ‘She walks and fights alongside a demon.’

‘He’s no demon,’ Bladud said, and turned to Kush. ‘Numibian?’

Kush narrowed his eyes suspiciously. ‘How did you know that?’

‘I travelled when I was younger and learned the secrets of many different places. Will you put up your weapons so we can talk?’

‘Or we can just kill them,’ Nerthach suggested.

‘Then how will we learn anything?’ Bladud asked. ‘We will still be able to kill them later, if we wish.’

‘The reason only one of your people lies dead is because Tangwen was merciful to them,’ Kush said in his deep baritone.

A rasping noise came from the one she had hit in the throat. Tangwen realised he was trying to speak.

‘That … I can attest to,’ the warrior finally managed. There was laughter from the other warriors, including Nerthach. Bladud smiled.

‘Our people are not to be harmed,’ Kush said.

‘The diseased ones are dead already,’ Bladud said. ‘It is a kindness.’

‘Mine to give, not yours,’ Tangwen said evenly.

Bladud regarded her carefully. She was aware of the bear-skulled warriors shifting slightly, ready to attack if the Witch King willed it.

‘They stay forward of the line,’ Bladud said.

‘We will pass when we wish it,’ Kush said. ‘You can clear as big a gap in your line for a group of tired, weary and sick people as your courage dictates.’

Tangwen glanced at him. The speed with which he was picking up the language was astonishing. Bladud turned another thoughtful look on the Numibian.

‘No agreement, but let’s talk first. We can always kill each other later.’

‘I have your word that nobody will be harmed whilst we talk?’ Tangwen asked.

‘Who are you?’ Bladud asked, sounding a little irritated now.

‘Tangwen of the Pobl Neidr.’

Bladud narrowed his eyes, the slightest smile curving the corner of his mouth. ‘How many summers have you seen?’

‘What does that matter? I am a warrior of my people.’

‘Answer me.’ Bladud did not sound angry, but his tone made it clear that he wouldn’t brook much more insolence.

‘I have seen nineteen summers,’ she said begrudgingly.

‘Then you are too young to remember. I have met your father. Do you understand me?’

Tangwen just stared at him. ‘I find that hard to believe.’

‘Nevertheless, it’s true, and I mislike being called a liar. Would you have me describe him?’ Bladud asked. Tangwen shook her head. Bladud turned to his men. ‘Sheathe your swords now,’ he told his warriors.

‘The demon?’ Nerthach asked.

‘If you are afraid of him, then keep your sword in your hand,’ Bladud told him. Nerthach thought about it for a moment, laughed at himself and sheathed his sword. Then he walked straight to Kush, his hand extended. Kush glanced at Tangwen, who relaxed. Kush lowered his axe and grasped Nerthach’s proffered arm

‘I am Kush,’ the dark-skinned man said, ‘and nothing is easy in this land.’

Nerthach started to laugh and slapped Kush on the shoulder, much to the other’s man’s irritation. ‘That at least is true. It is a sorry thing to kill the sick, but it must be done. When it comes time, then you and I will fight, agreed?’

Kush frowned, looking down at the thick-set, bearded man. ‘I would wish it otherwise. I think your people will be poorer for your loss, but so be it.’

‘I like you, demon,’ Nerthach told Kush.

‘Well, this is … pleasant,’ Bladud said. ‘In the meantime, Kush, Tangwen and their charges are under my protection. They are not to be harmed.’ Nerthach opened his mouth to ask a question. ‘Not even the sick.’ Nerthach nodded. Bladud turned to Tangwen. He reached out to touch her burned face. Tangwen wanted to flinch away from him but didn’t.

‘This still hurts.’ It wasn’t a question. ‘I have a salve which will help. I think there is much we need to speak of, but what I need to know first is how far behind you are they?’

‘No more than half a day,’ Tangwen told him.

‘Give them food and water, but keep away from them,’ Bladud told Nerthach, nodding towards the survivors. He then gestured for Tangwen and Kush to follow him. Germelqart hesitated for a moment and then joined them as well.

The camp was further up the slope, set back amongst the trees, and was busy with all the various retinues that accompanied travelling warriors. Food was being prepared, weapons honed and maintained, horses shod. Bladud exchanged words with most he passed as he led Kush, Germelqart and Tangwen to a shelter made from branches and the surrounding undergrowth. Inside was a cluttered mess, many of the things Tangwen recognised as the tools and accoutrements of the
dryw
. Bladud rummaged around until he found a small clay pot sealed with wax.

‘It would be better if I did this, but if you would prefer to do it yourself …’

Tangwen regarded him for a moment. She was not sure what to make of him. The one thing she did know was that he was powerful, and powerful people tended to be ruthless because they had to be. His outcast status should have made him a pariah, but that was clearly not the case if he commanded two hundred warriors from different tribes.

‘Where were you when the black
curraghs
came?’ she blurted out angrily.

Bladud went very still. ‘I was in the west on Ynys Dywyll with my warriors. I was petitioning for the ban on me to be removed.’ There was something in his voice – shame, she thought. ‘If I had …’ he started. ‘There is no excuse. I failed my people.’ He would not meet her eyes. Instead he broke the wax seal on the pot and started to smear some of the salve within across the acid scar on Tangwen’s face. For the first time since she received the wound the burning lessened, became tolerable. She felt like weeping with relief, but knew that this was not the time to show weakness. When he had finished dressing the wound, Bladud left the shelter. He returned with bread and horns filled with ale. Kush, Tangwen and even Germelqart all but snatched them out of his hands.

‘There will be meat to follow. I have sent the same to your people,’ he told them. They thanked him through mouths full of bread and ale. Bowls of stew did indeed follow, which they attacked with equal gusto.

‘Tell me what happened, as much as you are willing,’ Bladud said after furnishing them with a second horn of ale.

Kush remained mostly quiet and Germelqart was entirely silent while Tangwen told Bladud the story. She kept certain details to herself, but recounted broadly what had happened. Britha, Fachtna and Teardrop coming to her village. Tangwen guiding them to the Crown of Andraste. The wicker man, Andraste’s awakening, the Isle of Madness, Andraste’s spawn and what they were doing to the land.

‘They change everything they touch, warp it, twist it. They are horrors of the Otherworld, born of a goddess, perverted by the Dark Man, and weapons cannot harm them.’

Bladud was regarding her thoughtfully. He had asked few questions throughout her story, content simply to listen.

‘Your warriors will all die,’ Kush told him quietly.

‘And yet you fought one and lived,’ Bladud said.

‘A small one, and it killed two of our number almost before we could move against it,’ Tangwen told him.

‘But if no weapons can harm it?’ Bladud said. Tangwen and Kush said nothing, but Kush couldn’t help glancing towards where his axe lay. Bladud followed his glance. Kush turned back to find the Witch King looking at him, one eyebrow raised.