"We have to find another course of action."
"Exactly." And then he had it. "The first time I was down here I was searching around and I came across another secret room… at least I think it was secret. And there were three Golden Ones in there-Goibhniu-"
"Creidhne and Luchtaine, as they were known in the Fixed Lands. The room was secret, but it would have opened itself to you because of your heritage."
Church felt too weary to question what this meant. "They were making weapons," he said instead. "What was that all about?"
"That must wait until later, when there is time."
"If the room is still there, if the weapons are still there, if Goibhniu and the others are still there-"
Baccharus was already moving along the corridor. Church kept up with him, still amazed to see branching corridors appear as if from nowhere. Five minutes later they passed through the door into the foundry, with its familiar smell of sulphur and smoke. The furnaces were cold, the room silent. Hammers lay where they had fallen. Iron remained partly worked on the anvil. In the gloom beyond, Church could see the mysterious weapons stacked in heaps, untouched.
Baccharus traced his slim fingers along the edge of the furnace. "I do not think the Night Walkers found this place. The three smiths would have gone to the aid of the Master once the interlopers were discovered."
"So it's still just us." Church investigated the first pile of weapons. The uses of most of them were impossible to divine. "Do you know how to use these?"
"Some. I am not a warrior."
Church picked up a sword with twin parallel blades. It was extraordinarily light, made of gold and silver, useless in battle. A blue gem was imbedded at the top of the handle between the blades. Casually, Church brushed the jewel with his thumb and was instantly shocked by a sucking sensation deep within him that rapidly grew stronger until it felt like his innards were being pulled out. The sword jumped like a living thing in his hand, so powerful he could barely control it. Before he could fling it down, he noticed coruscating blue energy crackling between the blades near the base, slowly rising up towards the tip as it grew stronger.
Baccharus stepped in quickly and touched his thumb to the gem. The energy died away and Church's jolted body returned to normal, although he could still feel faint vibrations running through his skeleton. "A Wish-Sword," Baccharus said. "To be used with caution."
"You're telling me." Church placed it back on the pile, wary of touching anything else. "Is there anything a little less apocalyptic?"
Baccharus mused for a moment before pulling out a leather thong with what appeared to be a Japanese throwing star tucked in a fold. The star had six points in the shape of extended teardrops, cruelly tipped with barbs, and was made of the same silvery metal that was a constituent for most of the weapons.
Baccharus weighed the weapon in his hand a moment, then slowly began to whirl the thong around his head. Unnerved, Church took refuge behind one of the furnaces where he could just see Baccharus building up speed. When the weapon was a blur, Baccharus snapped his wrist and the star went flying out of the thong. It ripped in an arc through the air; a primitive if effective weapon, Church thought. But then Baccharus nodded his head towards a heap of unformed metal and the star jumped unnaturally in the air to follow the direction of his gaze. It tore through the metal like it was made of sand. Baccharus moved his head sharply two more times and the star obeyed him exactly, making two more cuts through the pile, which fell with a resounding clatter. The star spun back to Baccharus, slowing and hovering slightly so he could pluck it out of the air with his thumb and forefinger.
"That's amazing." Church snatched the star and examined it closely. There was nothing to show why it should act in such a manner. "Can anyone use it like that?"
"Anyone with a will." Baccharus smiled.
"It's still not going to help us if we have to face the massed ranks of them, but it's a start."
"What do you suggest?"
Church shifted uncomfortably. There was one avenue he had been resisting, but he didn't see how he could ignore it any longer, however detestable it was to him. "The Fomorii corruption your people all sense in me," he began, "has a side effect. The taint was left after the Kiss of Frost almost took me over, and soon after my life was saved by the liquid I drank from the Cauldron of Dagda. Whatever it was gave me some essence of your people too, so inside me I've got Fomorii and Tuatha De Danann fighting it out. The result is that sometimes, when I really try, I can sense what's going on in the Fomorii mind. It's not like I can read thoughts-at least I don't think it's like that. I don't even know if the Fomorii have thoughts. It's more a vague impression. But if I really concentrate on it, I'm convinced I can get right inside their heads to work out what's happening. I have to be in close proximity, though." He winced. "It feels like my head is filled with spiders. But that's not the worst of it." He paused as he tried to find the words to express his fears.
"What is it?" Baccharus obviously saw something in Church's face for he rested a steadying hand on his friend's shoulder.
"I'm afraid I could get lost in there. Somehow… it's like their minds are all linked. Lots of different bodies, but one being. I've only had the briefest hint of what's inside them, but even then it felt like a rushing river. Of oil, black and so cold. It was tugging at me even then."
Baccharus nodded. "I understand. You must do what you feel you have to do. No one will judge you."
Somehow that made things even worse for Church. "I've got to stop being such a wimp. What would Tom say?" He grinned defiantly. "Come on, then. Let's get us a guinea pig."
They crept back to the foot of the stairs that led to the deck, constantly checking for any sound of Callow and the Malignos. A cold, heavy wind buffeted them and through the doorway they could see swirling clouds occasionally lit up by flashes of white lightning. In the storm, the ship pitched so much that Church had to clutch at the wall to remain upright. At least the pounding thunder would hide any noise they made, Church thought.
The view through the doorway was occasionally obscured by a large shape lumbering slowly by. A guard, Church guessed, to prevent any of Wave Sweeper's passengers interfering with whatever was happening on deck. Even though they had discussed the plan-and it was a simple one-tension still tugged at his neck muscles. One mistake and they would bring the whole of the Fomorii force down on them.
"Are you ready?" he whispered.
"Yes." Baccharus's voice was characteristically cool.
Church held the throwing star gently, keeping his fingers well away from the razor-sharp barbs. "You sure you wouldn't be better off using this?"
"You have the ability. And I am faster than you."
"Okay," Church said. "I'm set. Go carefully."
Baccharus smiled shyly, then loped towards the stairs. Church backed off along the corridor and round a bend. His breath was fast, his heart beating hard. With nervous hands he loaded the star in the thong and held it at his side, rolling on the balls of his feet, ready to move in an instant. Despite Baccharus's vote of confidence, he still doubted his ability, even though he'd had several practice attempts with the star. It responded to his thoughts remarkably easily, almost as if it were a part of him, but the Fomorii were fast when they had to be. Were his reactions sharp enough to build up the velocity and release the star before the beast was on him? Before it could raise the alarm?
Don't think, he told himself. Just act.
In his mind's eye, he saw Baccharus sneaking to the foot of the stairs, sliding up them sinuously on his belly, waiting for the guard to pass to the furthest reaches of his path, hoping there were no other Fomorii anywhere near. Tossing one of the coals from the furnace so it rattled on the wet boards just beyond the doorway. Sliding quickly back down the stairs and retreating to the shadows while the guard investigated the sound easily discerned by its magnified perceptions.