"I stand here with my brother, the two of us shoulder-to-shoulder. We say the old ways of noninvolvement must end now. Risen and proud, the Golden Ones were always a force to be feared. The time is right."
Complete silence followed his plea. Church's heart fell; his words had not stirred them at all. He looked around frantically, wondering if he should speak himself, but before he could decide, Baccharus had gripped his arm and was leading him and Ruth out of the hall. "The case has been made," he whispered.
They were deposited in an annex where a crystal fountain gently tinkled. Baccharus refused to answer any of their questions, but they had only to look in each other's faces to confirm their private thoughts: they had failed.
Baccharus returned to them an hour later. At first they couldn't read his face, but when he was close it broke into a broad and unlikely grin. "They will ride with you. The Night Walkers have been designated a true threat, and the feeling is that an agreement of cohabitation is not enough. It is time to eradicate them completely."
Church jumped to his feet and hugged Ruth. "We did it!"
"We need to thank Cernunnos and Manannan," Ruth said.
"There will be time enough for that later," Baccharus replied. "The decision has been reached. The Golden Ones will act swiftly and we must be away at dawn. But first there is a ceremony to be enacted."
"What ceremony?"
Baccharus ignored Church and motioned to the door. In the chamber, Cernunnos and Manannan waited patiently on the floor, but around them were gathered some of the highest of the gods, with only Dagda and those whose form was most fluid still remaining in their old place.
"Your hearts are true, Brother and Sister of Dragons," Cernunnos said. "An agreement has been reached that rings across existence. Not since the most ancient times of your people has the like been seen."
He raised his right hand and the crowd parted to admit Lugh, leading four of the younger gods. Each carried one of the ancient artefacts Church, Ruth and the others had located to free the Tuatha De Danann from exile: the Stone ofFal, the Cauldron of Dagda, the Spear of Lugh and the Sword of Nuada Airgetlamh. Lugh himself carried the Wayfinder, the lantern with the flickering blue flame that had pointed them in the direction of the mystical objects.
"The Quadrillax," Cernunnos intoned, "are yours once more. Use them well and wisely."
Church could barely believe what he was seeing. The four objects were so powerful, such a part of the traditions of the Tuatha De Danann, that he could never imagine an occasion when they would have freely given them up. But he could tell from the way the other gods looked to Cernunnos and Manannan that he knew who to thank.
He bowed. "The Brothers and Sisters of Dragons thank you. And we shall use them well and wisely."
Barely able to contain himself, he walked over to the sword that was resting on a cushion of strange, shimmering material. He had once seen it as a rusty, crumbling artefact. Now it gleamed as if it were made of silver and gold, and looked as sharp and strong as if it had just been forged. A shiver of anticipation made him pause before his fingers closed on it. But then it was in his hand and once again the power rushed through him; it felt warm and alive, comforting, against his skin. "Now we'll see some justice," he said in hushed tones.
Church sheathed the sword in a leather scabbard presented to him by Baccharus, while Ruth took the spear that she had used to such good advantage when freeing Cernunnos from Fomorii control in South Wales. The other artefacts were placed in a golden box that the young gods would hold until directed by Church.
Once they were on their own in their room, Church dragged Ruth on to the bed and hugged her tightly. "A result," he grinned, "on every front."
"So where's that familiar pessimism? Come on, you're the man who manages to drag misery from every victory."
"I'm still pragmatic-I know it's still going to be near impossible. But at least we have the two things we need: the support of the Tuatha De Danann and the Quadrillax. That's a chance, and I'm going to seize it with both hands."
"Oh, get away from me. You're not the real Church. You've been possessed in that mysterious pool." She playfully attempted to push him away, before relaxing so he could fold into her. "Go on, there's got to be something on your mind." The flicker across his face gave her answer. "Spit it out."
"Okay, there's one thing that worries me, and it's a big thing." He rolled over so he was lying next to her, staring at the ceiling. "Everything was tidied up nicely on the ship, except for one thing. You've seen the Tuatha De Danann. You know what they're capable of. And now they have the Wish-Hex."
Chapter Fourteen
ater began to flood in around Laura as she shivered in the cold beneath the insipid dawn light. The Bone Inspector attempted to force the rag back into the hole, but it only made matters worse. "We're going to go down like a brick," he hissed.
"I can get a bit further if I throw you overboard." She leaned up just enough to peek over the rim. They hadn't even made it as far as the Dartford river crossing. Nearby, gleaming mudflats lined the bank. There was no movement anywhere, nor was there any sound, not even birdsong. The stillness was unnatural.
"If we drag it over to the side, we might have a better chance of plugging it up again," she hissed.
The Bone Inspector grunted before rolling over the side into the waist-deep water; he appeared oblivious to the cold. Laura allowed him to drag the boat close to the flats before she jumped out to help it across the last few feet.
Once they'd beached it, the water drained out and the Bone Inspector could attempt the repairs a little easier. But it was soon apparent why the previous owner had abandoned the craft. As the Bone Inspector worked the rag in tightly, his hand went right through the bottom, taking out a chunk of rotten wood about a foot square.
"You ham-fisted git!" Laura slapped a shaking hand over her eyes. "Now what do we do?"
The Bone Inspector ignored her attempts at blame. Quickly surveying the area, he pointed toward some streetlights beyond an expanse of waste ground. "The Fomorii may not have spread this far out of the city. If we proceed cautiously, it would be quicker to use the road to put the city behind us."
Laura wrapped her sopping arms around her. "All right. But you go first."
The wasteland had been used as a dump. Burst dustbin bags lay around amidst broken bottles, empty milk crates, a burnt-out car and decaying furniture. It smelled of chemicals and excrement. The road beyond was deserted, apart from a jackknifed petrol tanker.
"Looks safe," Laura mused after ten minutes in the shadows of the hedgerow. "Shall we chance it?"
"No choice." The Bone Inspector sniffed the air, then stepped out on to the pavement.
They'd gone only a few yards down the road when Laura experienced a prickling sensation. Looking back quickly towards the city, all she could see were a few birds swooping in the grey sky. She attempted to dismiss the nagging feeling, but if anything it was growing stronger. She took a few more paces and only then realised that since she had woken in the charnel house she had not seen any birds at all. With a shiver of dread, she turned back.
The dark smudges had moved much closer in the seconds between looks, and now she could see they were far too big for birds. Their uncanny speed held her rapt for a few seconds and by then she could see they were winged Fomorii. "Shit. I didn't know some of them could fly."