And when he opened his eyes, Marianne was smiling. "If you could only see yourself as I see you. We're all stars, Church. All stars." She drifted back towards the pillar of stones.
"Is that it? Have I done enough?" His question was answered by the OtherChurch, who began to fade, slipping back into the shadows that had gathered around the area until he was no longer there.
"From here it gets hard. Harder than anything you've been through so far. Pain and death and suffering and sacrifice and misery. It'll be a trial, Church, but you always knew that." Parts of her became misty, merging with the rock. "If you stay true, you'll see it through. Have faith, Church, like I have faith in you."
The tears were flooding down his face now; he had never cried so much since he was a child. "Thank you." His voice, autumnal. "For this, and for everything else you gave me. I'll never forget you."
"Until we meet again." The smile again, filled with long, beautiful days, fading as she was fading. And then she was gone.
It was like a rope tied around his waist had suddenly been attached to a speeding truck. He shot straight up into the air, that strange place disappearing in the blink of an eye, the sky and the stars whizzing by, rocketing so hard he blacked out.
And when he woke, he was sitting on the edge of the Pool of Wishes.
He made his way back along the worn path in a daze, trying to separate reality from hallucination and to make sense of the true weight of what he had learned.
When he reached the others, Ruth said curiously, "What's wrong?"
"What do you mean?"
"You've only been gone about five minutes. Isn't there anything there?"
His smile gave nothing away. He climbed on his horse and spurred it back down the slope, feeling brighter and less burdened than at any time before in his life.
The Palace of High Regard lay at the centre of a confusing geometric design of streets, laden with symbolism. Church and Ruth's winding progress along the route was an intricately designed ritual, affecting their minds as well as their hearts; it was an odd sensation when simply turning a corner resulted in a flash of long-lost memory or insight, a fugitive aroma or barely heard sound. By the time they reached the enormous doors of ivory and silver, it had worked its magic on their deep subconscious so their heads felt charged with a disorienting energy, as if they were about to embark on a drug trip.
Baccharus was waiting to admit them. He carried a long staff carved from black volcanic rock. When Church and Ruth paused ten feet away, as they had been instructed, he tapped the doors gently with the staff. The resultant echoes were so loud Ruth put her hands to her ears.
The doors swung open of their own accord. Within was a hallway flooded with sunlight from a glass dome a hundred feet above. There were columns and carvings, niches filled with statues and braziers smouldering with incense. The floor had an inner path of black and white tiles, but on the edge was a pattern Ruth remembered from the floor tile at Glastonbury, with its hidden message that had pointed them towards T'ir n'a n'Og.
They waited for an age at the second set of doors, eventually being admitted to a room so large it took their breath away. It resembled the Coliseum in size and layout: rising tiers of seats in a circle around a vast floor area that made them feel insignificant. There was enough distortion of perception around the edges that Church wondered what it really looked like. The power of the Tuatha De Danann was focused there in all its unknowable, fearful glory. Ahead of them, the highest tier of gods was obviously seated, but the golden light that came off them was so forceful Church couldn't look at it. At the centre was the being the Celts had called Dagda, the Allfather, and around him others of the oldest and most powerful branch of the Golden Ones. On the perimeter he could just make out the ones the Celts had characterised as Lugh, and Nuada, whom he had first met on Skye when he had been brought back from the dead.
The air was crushing down on his shoulders and deep vibrations ran through him. It made him feel queasy, and he didn't know how long he would be able to endure it; it was apparent Fragile Creatures were not meant to be in that place, or to spend time in close proximity to those potent gods.
They waited, uncomfortable beneath the oppressive attention of the Golden Ones; the weight of all those fearsome intellects focused upon them was almost palpable. The debate started soon after. Nuada rose to deliver a speech to the assembled mass, although they couldn't understand a word he was saying; it sounded like a song caught in the wind, lilting and beautiful, with occasional threatening notes. Others spoke: some from the rank of the highest, many from the lower levels. Back and forth the discourse ranged. It felt odd to be under the scrutiny of such powerful beings, having hopes dissected with the very fate of the world hanging in the balance, but Church refused to be cowed by it. He held his head high and looked every speaker in the face.
Eventually Manannan rose, but instead of making his speech from the tier of the highest, he descended to the floor and stood beside Church and Ruth. He spoke with a passion and belief not previously visible in his reticent nature. Standing next to him, his ringing, incomprehensible voice resonating in the cavities of their bodies, they had an even deeper sense of the power around them.
Though Manannan never acknowledged their presence in the slightest, they knew he was arguing their case powerfully. The Tuatha De Danann hung on his every word, and when he finished speaking, a ripple of obvious disagreement ran around the arena. The tension in some of the comments that followed suggested that even Manannan's involvement might not swing the Golden Ones' support behind humanity.
But when the notes of dissent threatened to become a tumult, a hush suddenly fell across the arena. It was eerie the way it went from noise to silence in the merest moment. Church turned, searching for the source, and saw a large shadow fall across the arena. Cernunnos strode forward, his partner at his side. As she moved, her shape changed from that of a young, innocent girl, to a round-checked, middle-aged woman to a wizened crone and back again.
They stopped beside Manannan, and when Cernunnos spoke in a clear, booming voice it was in words Church could understand. "No more. The seasons have turned. The days of holding on to faint beliefs have long since passed. Some of us have been wiped from existence for all time. Is this not a sign that it is time to act? How many more Golden Ones must lose the shining light before a reckoning comes? You have heard my brother speak of many things, of the warp and weft of existence, of reasons and truth and change, of the rising and advancing of spirits. Yet at the last, it must come down to this: do we sit proud and true and wait for the Night Walkers to bring their foul corruption to our door-even to this hallowed place itself-or do we fight as we have done in the past, for what is ours and for our place in the scheme of things? We aid these Fragile Creatures in their task, and thereby aid ourselves. The greater questions that trouble you need not be considered at this time. This is about the Golden Ones, and the Night Walkers, and the age-old history of lies and treachery and destruction that lie between us."
He paused as his voice continued to echo around the vast chamber. There was no other sound; every god was listening intently to what he had to say. A swell of hope filled Church's heart.
"The Golden Ones have always been fair-minded, and we have always come to the aid of those who have aided us," Cernunnos continued. "These Brothers and Sisters of Dragons freed us from the privations of the Wish-Hex, and they prevented an even more heinous crime being inflicted, one that might well have wiped all of us from existence." Mutterings of disbelief ran round the hall. "They acted freely, and without obligation, and the Golden Ones should repay that debt. There is no longer the taint of the Night Walkers upon this champion. We are free to act at his behest." He paused once more and looked slowly round. Briefly his appearance wavered and instead of the creature that Church saw as half animal, half vegetation, there was something almost angelic, but it was gone in an instant.