A Quantum Mythology (48 page)

Talia reached up and traced around his eyes with the tips of her fingers. ‘I think they’re pretty,’ she told him. ‘And four arms gives us some options.’

She moved her hand down, placing it flat against his chest, and started pushing him backwards across the apartment until he stumbled against a chair and sat down hard. Then she climbed into his lap.

‘Why?’ he asked, though he found his human form was strangely breathless.

She hesitated for a moment. ‘Because this isn’t real,’ she told him. ‘It doesn’t matter.’ She kissed him. Being accustomed to mandibles, Vic wasn’t quite sure what to do with lips. ‘Relax,’ she told him. ‘I’m really good at this.’

33

Ancient Britain

The figure with the antlers turned and left the mound, disappearing into the mist and sunlight.

They had been blindfolded, which neither of them had been happy about, but both had agreed to. They stumbled through the woods for what seemed like a very long time, then were loaded into what felt like dugout log boats and taken upriver.

Finally their blindfolds were removed. They were standing on a little outcrop on the side of the narrow, fast-moving river, a shelter made of branches and ferns on the riverbank in front of them. Steam was leaking through the ferns.

‘Strip,’ one of their guards ordered.

Tangwen looked at the shelter, then at her captors, and started to undress. Kush didn’t move. ‘I don’t think they’re going to rape us,’ Tangwen said. ‘Not yet, anyway.’

Kush was looking at the steam coming from the shelter. ‘I am more worried about being eaten,’ he muttered. Tangwen laughed. Reluctantly, Kush started to undress. Tangwen found herself staring at his penis. Kush became aware of it and looked back at her. She didn’t notice. He cleared his throat and she looked up at him, utterly unembarrassed.

‘When we return to camp, you and I should—’ Tangwen stopped, and her hand came up of its own accord to cover her acid-burned face. She turned away. Kush watched her, concerned. One of the warriors pointed into the shelter.

Inside the shelter, hot rocks bubbled away in a large, shallow stone bowl, filling the structure with steam. Something mixed with the water gave the steam an aromatic quality. Tangwen started to feel drowsy as sweat beaded the skin of her wiry body.

The steam was so thick and heady that it took them a minute to realise there was someone else in the shelter with them: an old man, twig-thin, long, wavy grey hair draped over his face, concealing his features. His thin, straggly beard was shaped into a point. He looked up at them through his hair. His narrow face was heavily lined, but his eyes were very much alive.

‘I’m more impressive when I’m wearing a robe and antlers, I think,’ he said. His accent was odd – Tangwen had never heard one quite like it, but she had no problem understanding his words. ‘It’s more difficult to lie when we’re not hiding ourselves.’

‘And there is magic in the steam that compels the truth,’ Kush rumbled.

‘I breathe the same steam that you do, Kush-who-is-not-a-demon.’

‘I am Tangwen, hunter of the—’

The old man held up a hand. ‘We are being cleansed. We are to be unborn. The steam will send away all the other spirits that surround you. The serpent.’ He looked at Tangwen. ‘And those of metal.’ He looked at Kush.

Kush looked to Tangwen. ‘I mislike this,’ the Numibian said. Tangwen was not altogether happy herself.

‘Is there a spirit bound to the skull you have brought with you?’ the old man asked.

‘The skull was taken fairly in battle,’ Tangwen told the man. ‘Its owner died well and should have returned to his god, his head held high.’

‘If the spirit has not moved on to his god, then it has something to be ashamed of. It will be a weak and frightened thing and no threat to us.’

Kush gave a slight shake of his head.

‘Are we not
civilised
enough for you, Kush-who-is-not-a-demon?’ the old man asked.

We?
Tangwen wondered.

‘I meant no offence,’ Kush told the man.

‘I did not ask if you meant offence,’ the old man told the Numibian, though there was no reproach in his voice.

‘Your ways are not mine,’ Kush muttered.

‘And I am not a stupid man. One look at you could have told me that.’

Kush looked up and straight into the old man’s eyes. ‘No,’ Kush told him evenly. ‘You are not.’

‘And see – already we are chasing falsehood away. Soon we will be able to talk as real people, and not the deceitful people we all must be outside this place.’

‘This may not be the correct time to introduce ourselves in your rites, but I was told by a Persian Magi that names have power. You know ours, and I would know yours – unless you have something to hide,’ Kush said, somewhat irritably.

The old man regarded him for a moment or two. ‘Are you sure you’re not a demon, Kush-who-is-not-a-demon?’ he asked. Kush opened his mouth to retort. ‘My name is Guidgen.’

Tangwen recognised the name. It was an old one. It meant Born of Trees.

After Tangwen had sweated most of the mud off – and the berry dye she had smeared on herself to call the serpent – they left the steam-filled shelter. Next they followed the old man’s example by plunging into a deep pool in the fast-moving and very cold, river. They dried themselves with ferns, and the old man led them into the trees.

‘Shouldn’t we go clothed?’ Kush asked.

‘Were you born clothed?’ Guidgen asked. Kush shook his head.

Guidgen was clearly another of the mad men this island appeared to breed so easily, Tangwen thought. She hesitated when they came to the gnarled, ancient, stooped oak. There was a hole in the earth beneath it and the oak’s roots acted as a doorway to a cave. Tangwen had always liked her father’s cave, but for the most part caves were to be feared. Wolves, bears, monsters and madmen all lived in caves. They were said to be the gateway to the Otherworld, and she knew from her own experience that sometimes gods made caves their home.

‘It’s not what you think. You’re safe with me,’ Guidgen said, not unkindly. Tangwen looked around but could see no more of the ash-covered warriors. She steeled herself and crawled into the cave entrance. Guidgen went to follow her but Kush stopped him. The old man looked at him questioningly.

‘I’d rather you have to look at my arse than I at yours,’ Kush told him, and then followed Tangwen into the cave.

At first it was pitch dark and cold, the smell of earth very strong. Gradually, Tangwen started to feel warm air against her skin. She could smell woodsmoke, and finally she made out a faint red glow.

She crawled out of the tunnel into a low earthen cave supported by a network of roots. A fire burned low and red in the centre of the cave. Tangwen thought it a little odd that the cave wasn’t filled with smoke. It didn’t feel like a place that she should fear. Rather it felt warm, oddly comfortable and strangely familiar.

Kush crawled into the cave, followed moments later by Guidgen. In the dim red glow they were little more than indistinct shadows. The ceiling was low enough that Kush was unable to stand up straight.

‘This place is sacred to Cuda?’ Tangwen asked. Guidgen nodded. ‘But you clothed yourself as the Horned God.’

‘We were under the trees,’ Guidgen said, then sat down on the strangely warm earth, ‘and he is Cuda’s favoured son. I ask only that you respect this place. You are, however, not under hospitality. We do not know if you are friends or enemies yet, and it is difficult to trust someone who feels the need to assure people that he is not a demon,’ the old man said, smiling.

‘It’s only because everyone on this island—’ Kush started, but found both the Pretani were grinning at him.

‘I am Tangwen, a hunter and a warrior of the Pobl Neidr. This is Kush the Numibian, a warrior from lands across the seas and far to the south. We come with a message from Bladud, whom some call the Witch King, of the Brigantes. It was he who made you the gift of the skull, which, by his word, took some effort in the taking,’ Tangwen said formally.

‘And you are a man just like us?’ Guidgen asked Kush.

‘Yes,’ Kush told the old man.

‘Only more civilised?’ Guidgen asked.

‘Are you mocking me?’ Kush demanded.

‘Yes,’ Guidgen said simply. ‘But I mean no ill. You may not be a demon, Kush-who-is-not-a-demon, but neither of you is normal. The blood of the gods, however weak, runs in your veins.’

Kush and Tangwen stared at him.

‘I have not heard the name of your people,’ the Numibian finally said.

‘We are the
Tyleth Am Sgrech Cysgod
,’ Guidgen said. Tangwen started at the name. The Tribe of the Screaming Shadows.

‘That is an ill name,’ Kush said.

‘We are cursed people.’

‘Are you their king?’ Tangwen asked when she finally felt she could speak again.

‘No,’ Guidgen said, shaking his head. ‘We have no king. I am a
dryw
, an advisor. Since there was some suspicion that you were consorting with creatures from Cythrawl, I was asked to deal with you.’

‘Why are you cursed?’ Kush asked.

‘A bold question from those invading Ardu,’ Guidgen said, though there was no reproach in his tone.

‘Is truth only for us to give, then?’ Kush demanded. ‘You speak of it, but there are shadows here, shadows there. You name yourselves shadows and then make war on the sleeping.’

‘We did not make war on them,’ Guidgen said simply. ‘We just
killed them. They were fruit hanging from the trees for the Horned God. We live in Ardu to be free of the tyranny of kings. And to answer your question, we were cursed because we were too
civilised
. Our king sought to build a city. He did not care that it was on land sacred to Cuda. He did not care that another tribe had better claim to the land.’

‘We simply seek to pass through your land,’ Tangwen said.

‘I believe you,’ Guidgen said.

‘Then why make war on the landsfolk we protect?’ Kush was becoming angry.

‘Many of them are spear-carriers, and we killed warriors, too—’

‘Nobody is questioning your courage—’ Tangwen started.

‘That is a lie,’ Guidgen said.

Tangwen went cold and her hand reached for a dagger that was not there. Kush tensed, not sure what do.

‘Think on what you said,’ Guidgen warned. ‘Think, before the anger takes you.’

Tangwen took several deep breaths as she tried to calm herself. ‘I do not question your courage.’

‘Because you know what it is to hunt. We give you the same chance we give a bear,’ Guidgen told her.

‘I question your courage,’ Kush said. Guidgen smiled.

‘But why attack us when all we would do is pass through your land?’ Tangwen asked.

‘Two reasons,’ Guidgen told them. ‘First, it is a lesson. It must be too costly to cross our land or others will try. I would see all of you destroyed to keep my people safe, to see this land unspoiled.’

Kush laughed bitterly, but Tangwen held up a hand to quiet him.

‘And the other?’ she asked.

‘This Bladud, he wears the black robe of a false
dryw
?’ Guidgen asked. Tangwen nodded. ‘He is moonstruck with the sickness of greed. I could smell it on him. He would have more than he could see from the highest point in his land. He would make slaves of his fellows. He would pass through today, but tomorrow he would conquer us.’

Kush and Tangwen were quiet.

‘I think he is right,’ Kush said. Tangwen nodded. ‘Why tell us this?’

‘What I tell you will not make any difference.’

‘Because you will kill us,’ Tangwen said.

‘That is a poor way to treat a guest,’ Kush said.

‘It would be,’ Guidgen agreed.

‘But we are not guests,’ Tangwen said quietly. ‘We have been offered neither food nor drink.’

‘Your people are invaders. You are prisoners, and we do not keep slaves. All go to our gods.’

‘I could snap your neck with my bare hands,’ Kush growled.

Guidgen laughed. ‘Now
that
is the truth,’ the old man said.

‘Kush,’ Tangwen said.

‘What?’ the Numibian demanded.

‘He is being courteous.’

Kush stared at the young Pretani woman.

‘You are people of many different tribes,’ Guidgen said as he poked at the fire, sending sparks into the air. Tangwen nodded. Kush just glared at the strange
dryw
. ‘What is chasing you?’

Tangwen told him. Guidgen was quiet for a long time after she finished her story. He stared into the fire.

‘That cannot be believed,’ he said eventually.

Tangwen gritted her teeth, choking back an angry challenge. You did not threaten or harm a
dryw
, not even if they would be the one to peel the skin from your flesh.

Finally Guidgen looked up, his eyes catching the red glow of the flames: ‘So it must be true.’

Bress rode his horse slowly into the valley along the muddy track beside the river. Britha rode next to him. The Lochlannach, silent and impassive, rode behind. It was raining hard.

It looked like all had come to see them. Row after row of dismounted warriors stood on the track and in the trees. Those on the opposite side of the river held slings, bows and casting spears. She was aware of people keeping pace with them in the trees. Behind the warriors came the lines of landsfolk. Almost all of them were armed, even if it was just a stick with a fire-hardened point. They stared at Bress and the Lochlannach with undisguised hatred. They stared at Britha the same way. She glanced over at Bress. She could not read the expression on his pale, beautiful face.

Bladud stood at the head of the army, his hood up against the rain. Nerthach was at his side. Behind him were more black-clad warriors in bearskin cloaks. She saw the emaciated but still regal Anharad of the Trinovantes, though there was no sign of Mabon. Borth the Tall and Eithne of the Iceni both stood on Bladud’s left side. She looked for and found Germelqart. The Carthaginian navigator was watching her, studying her as if he was looking for something. There was no hatred there, but maybe a little fear.

Then she saw the girl and felt her heart do something strange. She could have been no more than eight years old, dirty, bedraggled, thin, ragged, hungry and very, very frightened. She was perched in a tree, watching the Lochlannach ride through the mud. Once she would have been too far away for Britha to notice, but not now. And Britha knew her.

She was the daughter of a family of landsfolk who had lived and worked in one of Ardestie’s outlying farms. Britha had delivered her. The birth was something of a fight. She had been a sickly baby, and winter-born. Britha didn’t expect her to last the white season, but she lived until spring and then grew up strong enough. She blinked back tears as she realised she could no longer remember the girl’s name.