The king finished watching Country Joe’s set and turned his attention to Church. ‘The Fragile Creatures have excelled themselves this time. This is a spectacle beyond all others.’
Church had to agree. The performers included some of the most celebrated bands of all time — The Who, The Grateful Dead, Jimi Hendrix, Crosby, Stills amp; Nash and Sly and the Family Stone. The organisers had only expected 50,000 people a day. Ten times that number had blocked all roads leading to the isolated farm where the festival was being held, a population equivalent to the third biggest city in the state.
‘Would you like to spend some time with the Seelie Court?’ the queen asked.
‘Thank you — that’d be great. And I would like to ask for your help in a very important matter.’
‘A boon?’
‘You have always been friends of my people. The years to come are going to be very hard for them. They’re going to need all the help they can get, as will I.’
The queen patted the grass beside her. Sit, then, Brother of Dragons, and tell us your heart’s desire.’
32
On the stage, Santana were playing, their samba rhythms a jaunty contrast to the lowering clouds. It was the following day, and Church was apprehensive despite a good night’s sleep. It felt as if they were on the brink of a disaster. In the Far Lands, the courts of the Tuatha De Danann were refusing to unite despite the fact that the forces of the Army of the Ten Billion Spiders were increasing by the day. And here in what he still humorously called the real world’, the Enemy appeared to have reshaped much of the globe into the Void’s image of Anti-Life, where power and money and war and brutality ruled, and there was no room for hope, love or wonder. He saw only one opportunity to turn back the tide and that depended upon the vagaries of the Seelie Court.
Gabe came up to him as he watched the band. ‘You ready?’
‘Are you?’
He grinned. Never been surer. Marcy and me, we’re poles apart in the way we see the world, but without her I haven’t got a point.’ Gabe glanced up the slope to where the preparations were being made for the wedding.
‘You’re never going to forget the bands you had for the reception,’ Church said.
‘It just felt right. The vibe here … it’s what we believe in. Things are falling apart all over, but we’ll remember this day, and what it meant, and if things do get dark we’ll have something to keep us going.’
Church considered this for a moment. ‘I’m worried about you, Gabe. You’re starting to talk some sense.’
‘Blame Marcy for that.’ He laughed quietly. ‘Thanks for being best man.’
‘It was me or Tom, and frankly if he’s the best you can do, there’s not much hope.’
‘Wavy Gravy and the Hog Farm are doing the food. I’d better check everything’s on schedule.’
He headed off just as Niamh wound her way through the crowds. She looked perfectly at home, barefoot in a hippie dress, her ethereal beauty drawing stares from everyone she passed. She pulled his arm through hers.
‘Tom’s helping some kids who took some bad acid,’ she said.
‘He still doesn’t want to go back to your court?’
‘He says his heart is here in the Fixed Lands at this time. He says he will do what he can here to mount a resistance to the Enemy’s plans.’
‘That sounds as if he’s admitting defeat.’
‘No. He says he has faith in you.’
‘Good old Tom. Never one to pile on the pressure.’ Church felt sad that they would be parting ways. For all his curmudgeonly ways, Tom had been a good friend.
Niamh looked towards the stage and her grip on him grew tighter. ‘It will not be long now before you are reunited with your love.’
‘Just over thirty-five years here. A blink of the eye in the Far Lands.’ Church noticed the subtle cast of Niamh’s face and silently cursed himself for his insensitivity. ‘I’m sorry,’ he added.
‘Why?’
‘Because I can’t return what you feel for me.’
‘If anyone is to blame it is me. You have no choice. I choose to love you regardless.’ She forced a smile. ‘Besides, it will all be meaningless in a short while.’
‘What do you mean by that?’
Gabe was hailing him from further up the slope. The wedding was about to begin. Niamh urged Church gently towards the ceremony, and soon he forgot he had even asked the question.
33
It was Sunday evening and hundreds of campfires blazed across the festival site. For a moment, Church thought he was back in the Iron Age at some vast gathering of the tribes. There was the same feeling of hope in the air, that no matter how dark the night, a new dawn was never far away.
The wedding had gone well and Gabe and Marcy had taken their tent to another part of the site for some honeymoon privacy. Tom and Niamh had gone off, deep in conversation. Their mood was restrained, but they refused to tell Church what was on their minds. More secrets; he was sick of it all, the undercurrents and the manipulations. He longed for simpler times, for some fabled golden age when there was no responsibility.
Someone announced over the speaker that it was midnight and Blood, Sweat and Tears were about to come on stage.
‘How very fitting.’
Church looked around to see the Libertarian sitting next to him. He held out a paper bag. ‘Would you like some brown acid? I’ve been giving it away in the crowd.’
Church tried to jump to his feet, but he was thrust roughly back to the ground. It was Veitch. Etain, Tannis, Owein and Branwen stood nearby.
‘No need for any anxiety. Chill out. That’s what they say here, isn’t it?’ The campfires were reflected in the Libertarian’s sunglasses so that it looked as if his eyes were burning. ‘I just want to talk. No fighting. No blood, sweat or tears. Just a quiet chat in the hope that we can reach a mutual agreement.’
Church bristled. ‘You think we’re going to find some common ground?’
‘I do. Really, it’s the only sensible course. We both have needs … obligations … If we can both achieve our ends without any further death, surely that is the way forward?’
‘Why the change of tune? Afraid you’re going to lose?’
‘Oh, no. There’s no chance of that at all, now. Which is why the time is right to discuss futility and wasted effort, and hope and despair.’
Church eyed Veitch’s cold, hateful stare and Etain’s dead eyes. He couldn’t fight, he couldn’t run. ‘Go on.’
The Libertarian stretched out on the grass and put his hands behind his head, watching the spray of stars. ‘A few short decades away from here we have the love of your life. She hovers on the brink of death. One tiny push will send her over the brink into oblivion. We have your two close friends, as well. It is the time of the Source and our powers are at their height. There is no protection for Brothers and Sisters of Dragons. You’re all rabbits waiting for the gun.’
‘Is that supposed to be a threat? It could easily be a lie.’
‘It could be, but it is not. I think you already know I’m speaking the truth.’
Church recalled what Hal had told him when he reclaimed the Pendragon Spirit from the lamp: Ruth is in a bad place. ‘What are you saying?’
‘I’m offering you a simple trade. A pact.’ He glanced around at the crowds and smiled. ‘A Pax Americana, if you will.’
‘Go on.’
‘You surrender yourself to us and we promise not to kill your love or the other two. We won’t free her from where she’s being held, but she won’t die.’
Church glanced at Veitch; his face gave nothing away. ‘So I get executed, and Ruth, Shavi and Laura live.’
‘Nothing so vulgar. There is no need for execution if we can simply remove the king from the board.’
‘What, then?’
‘A sleep that will be like death. I knew you would not willingly give yourself up to die, knowing how strongly you hold your obligations to Existence. I fear you would even sacrifice your love for that. The big picture, and all. But a sleep like death? That would allow you a glimmer of hope that you might return to the field, and I know how much you value that slippery little fantasy. “While there’s life there’s hope”, and other fairy tales.’