Jack of Ravens (9 page)

The deadened atmosphere had faded with the attack. ‘Don’t waste time with them!’ Church yelled as he sliced away the lower jaw of the Redcap
that was thrashing around with Branwen’s spear still protruding from it. ‘They’re being controlled!’ He pointed to the man in the silver mask.

Tannis, Branwen and Etain followed Church as he bounded forwards, but they were halted by Owein’s terrible cry. He was pinned to the floor by two Redcaps in a feeding frenzy, and blood was showering into the air.

Church took off both of the Redcaps’ heads with one furious swing. He wrenched Owein out from under the still-thrashing mass and was sickened to see bare bone through the skin of Owein’s upper arm where most of the muscle had been torn free.

‘I will protect him,’ Tannis said breathlessly. ‘Go after the leader.’

Seemingly oblivious to Church’s attack, the black-robed figure continued to weave patterns in the air. But as Church neared, sword raised, the leader turned towards him and Church was brought up sharp by the unnerving sight of the black robe crumpling to the ground as if it contained nothing. Rivers of spiders flooded out of the robe, disappearing into the landscape. Within seconds only cloth remained; even the mask had been carried away.

‘He was made out of spiders,’ Church said incredulously as Etain arrived at his side.

A triumphant cry from Tannis told them the remaining Redcap had retreated into the green mist, and soon that too was gone.

‘We beat them,’ Branwen said in disbelief, but any jubilation drained away when Tannis approached carrying Owein’s bloody form.

15

Etain and Conoran emerged from the hut, their expressions grim. Church had waited quietly in the dark of the street while they tended to Owein.

‘He cannot last long,’ Conoran said quietly. ‘Too much flesh has been lost from his upper arm, even down to the bone … too much blood.’

Etain brushed away a tear, the strain of the evening evident in her face. ‘Is this how Existence works?’ she asked. ‘It demands a balance. Your life was saved, Jack, Giantkiller, so Owein must lose his?’

‘I don’t believe that to be true,’ Church said.

They stood silently, unable to give voice to their momentous experience. All around them, Carn Euny slept, oblivious. Eventually Etain said, ‘It makes no sense to me, for Owein to lose his life so soon after being chosen as a champion of Existence—’

‘We are not meant to understand the rules of Existence,’ Conoran said. ‘We see only one small part of the sweep of the plan, like a fish in a pool who thinks the world is made of water and that the faces that occasionally look down into the depths are the gods of the fish-world.’

Tannis arrived from feeding and watering the horses. He could see that
the news was not good. ‘What now for us? The Fabulous Beast said there need to be five for the Pendragon Spirit to achieve its full potential.’

‘Perhaps another champion will arise,’ Conoran mused.

Branwen made her way down the street from wherever she had been hiding since their return. Her face was streaked with tears. During their journey home from Boskawen-Un, Church realized she had feelings for Owein that she buried beneath her fractious exterior. Tannis called her gently, but she ignored him and slipped into the hut where Owein was caught between delirium and coma.

‘Look at us,’ Etain said bitterly. ‘Already broken and torn asunder. What kind of champions are we? Is this the best Existence could do?’

No one answered her question, and after a moment Tannis bid them good night and Conoran followed. Church knew he wouldn’t be able to sleep with so many questions still troubling him. Etain led him to a spot just outside the village where they lay on the grass looking up at the stars and the smoke drifting from the hearths of Carn Euny.

‘Now you cannot leave us, Jack, Giantkiller,’ she said after a while.

‘What do you mean?’

‘From the moment you appeared in our midst, I have waited for the time when you would walk out of my life.’ Etain’s voice was low and dreamy. Church looked at her, but she kept her eyes on the stars. Her face was as pale as the moon, and shadows pooled in her eyes and added lustre to her hair. Her breasts rose and fell slowly. ‘Now you and I – and all of us – are joined by the Blue Fire. We are one. It will pull us together, however far apart we might be.’

Church knew this to be true, in the way that he now knew many things on an unconscious level. Though the feeling of unity raised his spirits, he also felt deeply sad. Did it mean he would never be allowed to return to his own time, to see Ruth again, to reclaim the life he had lost? Was he now fated to live out his days and be forgotten long before anyone he cared for ever existed?

‘I’ll do what’s expected of me while I’m here,’ he said, ‘but I’m never going to stop looking for a way back home. And to Ruth.’ He felt Etain flinch.

‘We judge a person by what they hold inside them,’ Etain said, ‘and you are a good man to keep such a powerful love pure in your heart. But Conoran says your home is not one day’s ride away, nor many, but exists across the unending sea of days. Can you not see that your love is hopeless? You are hurting yourself by holding on to it. And those around you who care for you.’ She moistened her lips. ‘Let it go. Accept your loss.’ A desperate yearning was wrapped in her final sentence. ‘I could make your heart sing too, Jack, Giantkiller.’ She gently touched his face with her cool fingers.

‘I know you could,’ Church responded quietly, ‘but I love Ruth. I’m never going to give up hope. However many miles, however many years I have to cross, I’m going to get back to her. Nothing’s going to stand in my way.’

‘Then hear this,’ she said passionately. ‘However many miles I walk and fight at your side, however many years it takes to prove my love to you, I will shoulder that burden. Because I know that in this time and in this place our souls are bound together. Judge me by what I hold inside myself.’

In that moment, the deep affection Church felt for her crystallised. She would never replace Ruth, but there was an undeniable connection between them.

‘Come quick!’

The mood was shattered by the cry. Church and Etain ran back to the main street where Branwen waited anxiously in the doorway to Owein’s hut. Church feared the worst until he saw the hopeful light in Branwen’s face. She dragged Church into the smoky, warm confines and thrust him towards Owein, who lay on a mat wrapped in blankets. He appeared to be sleeping more peacefully.

‘Look at his wound!’ Branwen pleaded.

Church lifted the dressing: the deep gash was healing much faster than was possible. Already the bone was hidden beneath reknitted flesh. At that rate it would only be a matter of days before the gash was gone completely.

‘It is the Pendragon Spirit.’ Conoran stood behind Church. ‘The Blue Fire can heal the flesh as well as the spirit. But to see such a wound heal so quickly!’

While the others gathered around Owein with renewed hope, Conoran motioned for Church to follow him back out into the night. ‘The cycles of Existence move slowly, but this is a new beginning. A time of hope, a new dawn,’ Conoran said passionately. ‘And I believe in my heart that this is the first step out of infancy for humankind and onto the long road to the heart of Existence. You have a tremendous responsibility. Do not let us down.’

Church said nothing.

‘I must return to my people,’ Conoran said, distracted. ‘There is much preparation to make, lectures at the colleges, new lessons to teach the way forward. There is a responsibility on the Culture, too, for we must supply the support you will need on your quest. Yes, yes!’ He roamed around, deep in thought. ‘The Culture may not be around for all time, or invaders may drive us into hiding. We must prepare! There are other wise men and women in other cultures. They must carry on the knowledge in their own beliefs. They must be … Watchmen, preparing the way, warning of danger!’

He came back to Church, his eyes bright. ‘And if the gods ever dare to
return to force humankind to suffer and slave, you Brothers and Sisters of Dragons will be there to repel them!’

‘I’m touched by your faith.’

Conoran missed Church’s wry tone as he launched into another rush of notions. ‘Defences must be prepared for such an incursion. Weapons hidden. For what if the gods return in years to come when we have grown indolent and content?’ He glanced at Church’s side. ‘Your sword … It is one of four great weapons of the gods, as told of in our stories. We must find the others and hide them away for when they are most needed.’ He paused. ‘Would you give this weapon to the cause?’

Church hesitated. He’d already grown attached to the unearthly blade and the way it soothed him.

‘Existence will present you with another one, Jack, Giantkiller.’ Conoran’s gaze was heavy and Church couldn’t refuse him.

‘All right. It’s only a sword.’

‘I must return. Prepare.’ Conoran was several yards along the street when he rushed back and clasped Church’s arm forcefully. ‘I wish you well! Great things lie ahead!’

And then he turned and disappeared into the night.

16

The legend of the warrior-king and his band of Brothers and Sisters of Dragons passed quickly amongst the Celts from the Dumnonii in the West to the Iceni in the East, from the southern Atrebates to the Caledoni in the far north. For Church it was a time that dispelled any lingering doubts that a rational, ordered universe existed. Things that in his own time had been consigned to story books or bad dreams preyed on humanity, and he began to comprehend the secret history that lay behind the myths and legends of many cultures.

On the south coast they tracked a lamia to its lair and killed it in a four-hour battle. An infestation of vampiric Baobhan Sith was driven out of a South Wales village. In the fenlands, something with leathery wings, razor-sharp teeth and the pleading cry of a frightened child was destroyed in a midnight raid. Villages were saved, women and children rescued, magical items found and hidden for future use.

And in time they became greater than people, their exploits trumpeted from mouth to mouth, growing in the telling; stories of wonder and magic, of heroes who could never be defeated, of the king, Jack, the Giantkiller, who would always defend the land in its darkest hour; all people had to do was blow the trumpet, call his name three times into the wind.

And the shadows would fall back and never return. And the things that
lurked in the night and the wild places would be driven beneath the sea and under the hill.

And for the first time since its infancy, humankind could sleep peacefully in its beds.

All was right with the world.

17

‘They don’t make these like they used to.’ Church tossed the shattered sword out through the open doorway.

Tannis clapped him on the shoulder. ‘You do not know your own strength, Giantkiller. That was one of the strongest blades ever forged by my people.’

‘I need a new sword. A good one.’ Church eased out the tension in his shoulders that came from too long on horseback riding across the grasslands of southern Britain. ‘I wish I’d never agreed to give up the god-sword.’

Owein thrust a goblet of alcoholic brew into Church’s hand. ‘For now, rest, drink, make merry. There has been little of those things in recent days.’

‘We are champions,’ Branwen chimed in. ‘There must be some reward for our great deeds. The people are not grateful enough.’ She stretched out on a reed bed, nursing a sprained arm from the most recent battle, then reached out lazily and picked one of the first apples of the season from a wooden bowl beside her.

Church disagreed. They were treated with deference wherever they passed; and while hospitality to strangers was a cornerstone of Celtic society, the finest food and drink were presented to them, along with gifts of gold and jewels. By any standard, they could be fabulously wealthy.

But there was another aspect that disturbed him. Outside the door, Carn Euny was bathed in sun as it had been for most of the summer. When he had first arrived, the village had welcomed him warmly, the children calling his name and running around his feet, while the adults had invited him into their houses. But now they looked at him oddly, respectful of his position and abilities, but also treating him with faint unease. He was no longer like them. He was an outsider; an alien breed; a hero.

The others felt it, too, but it troubled Etain the most. Church had discovered her crying quietly one day. She briefly spoke of her loneliness, but then refused to talk any more because she couldn’t accept their isolation from the community.

‘Where is Etain?’ He realised he had not seen her for the last two hours.

‘Gone to recount our latest exploits to the
filid,’
Owein said with a hint of drunkenness. ‘Soon there will be new songs to sing about the wonders of the Brothers and Sisters of Dragons.’

Church slipped out to find her, enjoying the opportunity to be alone with his thoughts. Despite the sun, the air was sharp with the first chill of the approaching winter. Across the Cornish countryside the leaves were turning golden and orange, and the storms that regularly swept in off the Atlantic were growing wilder.

He met Etain walking back along the main street. Her face at rest looked unaccountably sad, but she smiled warmly when she saw him. ‘The
filid
has crafted the best song yet,’ she said. ‘Everyone will be in fine voice tonight.’