Lightning crashed from the clear blue sky and within moments storm clouds had swept up to release a torrential downpour. Aula moved Church down a side street, away from the crowd, and Lucia hurried up, her owl familiar flying overhead.
‘How did you find me?’ Church gasped.
‘We are Brothers and Sisters of Dragons,’ Lucia replied with a smile. ‘We are not without means.’
‘Besides, you are the king, are you not?’ Aula added with a note of sarcasm. ‘There are some who seem to think you valuable.’
At the city walls a hooded woman waited with a horse and cart. It was Niamh. Her beautiful face betrayed no emotion. Decebalus and Jerzy ran up and helped Church into the back of the cart where he was covered with piles of stinking sackcloth. The last thing he recalled was the gentle rocking motion of the cart as it pulled away, and the sound of slowly fading thunder.
19
A summer moon cast long shadows over an unspoiled landscape filled with the scent of olive trees. It was July, and Church sat on the hillside with a bowl of the warm herbal infusion Aula had prepared for him every night on their journey from Rome. It had helped his recovery immeasurably, and although he was still far from his old self, he could walk unaided once again.
Spread out before him were the standing stones of Fossa, not far from where the modern town of L’Aquila would grow in Abruzzo. The stones looked the same as in the photos he had seen in his own time, and had probably changed little since the Vestini tribe had established them 1,000 years earlier. After all the many changes in his life, he found the continuity of the stones comforting, particularly when he had so much on his mind that was troubling. How would the premature death of Maxentius affect history? Would Constantine find a new enemy to defeat before he turned the Empire to Christianity? Or was this the start of greater instability ahead?
‘Your ancestors were an astonishing people.’ Niamh had come up quietly behind him. Church was surprised to hear respect in her voice.
‘Because in the Iron Age they had the ability to align stones for astronomical significance? Or because they survived your people’s interference?’
‘Both.’ She sat next to him with her tarot cards and began to lay them out in her favourite divinatory spread. ‘Because they were capable of great things even with my people’s interference.’
Church took in the scope of the stones. Some were up to twelve feet high, pitched in circles and straight lines, patterns that looked incomprehensible to the untutored eye.
‘They knew the places in the earth where the Blue Fire was strongest and they recognised its true nature.’ Niamh concentrated on the cards. ‘They built their monuments to mark nodes of power, and they worshipped there, too, for life and Existence was their purpose.’
Church noted the cemetery of the Vestini amongst the stones: death and life and spiritual strength joined together in one image.
‘They knew these places were a gateway to your home?’ he asked.
‘They did, and to all the lands beyond.’
‘I’m sorry I didn’t find your brother.’
‘There is still time. For my kind, there is always time.’
‘And I want to thank you for coming to rescue me. I suppose it was just a matter of keeping your possessions safe, but thanks anyway.’
Niamh turned the cards, said nothing.
‘I was working under the assumption that only you Golden Ones gave gods to the Celts, but then I met Janus. Is he one of you? Are you responsible for all Earth’s gods?’
Niamh wrestled with her response. ‘My people believe what they want to believe. That is their way, a natural response to being so close to the heart of Existence.’
‘Arrogance-’
They believe they cannot die. They believe nothing in all of Existence can threaten them, because that is how things have always been. And if they receive information that contradicts that stance, they ignore it.’
Church was puzzled. There was an edge to Niamh’s voice as she fought with the changes taking place within her.
‘They believe they are unique,’ she continued.
‘But they’re not?’
‘We know other races existed in the Far Lands before we arrived from our long-lost home. We have seen their ruined cities on the mountaintops and beneath the waves, and we have heard tell of their names: the Drakusa, the Hyanthis …’ She shrugged. ‘Many races exist in the Far Lands, and the Far Lands stretch for ever. Who knows what lives there? Though …’ She hesitated. ‘There are rumours of other races related to us living in further corners of the land, but it is not something my people wish to consider.’
A shooting star blazed across the sky. Church and Niamh watched it together. She picked a handful of dry grass and released it into the wind. ‘There is much I wish to learn. Things I must see for myself.’ A shadow crossed her face as she wrestled with the fading of lifelong certainties. She looked over at the campfire where Decebalus and the others were finishing their evening meal.
‘Fragile Creatures … your lives always hang by a thread,’ she mused, ‘yet they risked everything to rescue you. They see beyond themselves in a way my people never do. They recognise in you a deep seam of goodness that will be mined for the benefit of all Fragile Creatures.’ Niamh gave Church a quick sideways glance, but would not meet his gaze. ‘I would know what drives you.’ A pause. ‘All of you.’
Church finished his drink and levered himself shakily to his feet. ‘Come on. Let’s join them.’
‘You look well,’ Decebalus noted as Church approached. ‘Aula has some uses, then.’
‘Be still, ox-brain.’ The blonde woman sighed. She lay next to the fire, staring at the stars.
‘Tomorrow morning when Niamh, Jerzy and I cross over to the Otherworld at the standing stones I want you all to come with us,’ Church said.
‘To T’ir n’a n’Og?’ Decebalus said in astonishment.
‘It’s not safe for you here. Veitch and his little spider-gang won’t rest until they’ve hunted you down and killed you. Especially now that you’ve freed me.’
‘There is nothing for me here,’ Lucia said. ‘I welcome new horizons.’
‘We can return?’ Aula asked. ‘Occasionally, to see our homeland?’
‘The Pendragon Spirit will allow you to transcend the barrier with impunity, as can anyone you bring in your wake,’ Niamh said.
A broad grin crossed Decebalus’s face. ‘Goddesses. The wine of the gods. New adventures. I say yes!’
Church noticed a pale will-o’-the-wisp floating in the dark further down the hillside and realised it was Jerzy making his way back from exploring the stones.
‘That was quite a performance you put on in Rome,’ Church said as he met him halfway.
‘You have yet to see my best, good friend! One day.’ Jerzy glanced warily past Church to the campfire.
‘What is it?’
From inside his jerkin, the Mocker pulled a piece of parchment. The writing covering it was in a language Church had never seen before, but one word stood out: Lugh.
‘Where did you get this?’
‘In Rome. I spied on a ritual for the sun god-’
‘Apollo.’
‘Yes — when I was trying to steal the sun mask. There were ten men, chanting, drumming, and then one of them was overcome by …’ He shrugged. ‘I know not what. He began to speak words I could not understand. The others had clearly experienced it before, though, for one of them was prepared to write it down.’ He tapped the edge of the parchment and smiled shyly. ‘I thought you could use it to trade with the mistress for your freedom.’
Church was touched. ‘Thanks, but I’d rather find out what this means before I show it to her.’ He slipped the parchment into his pocket.
Back at the camp, Church was overcome with exhaustion and made his way to the blankets laid out for him beneath an olive tree. He saw the deep bonds of camaraderie growing between Decebalus, Aula and Lucia and desperately wanted that for himself.