But as he slipped his hand under the blanket he used as a pillow, he discovered that the Arabian lamp was no longer there. No one owned up to taking it — in fact, they all looked honestly surprised — and even though they scoured the area there was no sign of anyone who could have slipped into the camp unseen.
Without the missing Pendragon Spirit he could not be whole, and he would never achieve the power he needed for the coming struggle.
Hopelessness began to tug at his thoughts until he was disturbed by Lucia’s exclamation of surprise. She was pointing towards the stones where Church could see blue lights flickering like candles at Evensong.
Decebalus thundered down the hillside like a bull, with Aula and Jerzy in pursuit. Lucia helped Church to his feet and supported him, bringing up the rear. Niamh remained behind.
‘Nothing,’ Decebalus bellowed once they stood amongst the stones. ‘What trickery is this?’
‘No, there!’ Aula pointed to a spot above a stone where a blue light had flickered and disappeared.
‘And there!’ Jerzy indicated another one. He gambolled after it.
The atmosphere had changed. It now felt like a dream, alive with possibilities. Exhilaration rose inside Church unbidden; his fingers tingled and goosebumps prickled over his skin. When he looked round at Lucia, she appeared to have stars glimmering in her dark hair and on her brow. She gave him a warm, peaceful smile, revealing emotions that had been lost to her since she had learned of Marcus’s death; it was as if the grief had been lifted right out of her.
‘Can you feel it?’ she said in a quiet, honeyed voice.
The blue lights were flickering across the breadth of the complex, growing stronger, and as they flared then receded, Church thought he could glimpse faces in them, like the ones that had appeared briefly in the column of fire under Boskawen-Un. Their features were all different: men, women, children.
‘The spirits of the dead,’ Decebalus said in awe, but there was no fear in his voice, nor in any of their faces.
Church felt Lucia stiffen beside him, and when he followed her gaze he saw Marcus shimmering in one of the sapphire lights away in the stones. It could have been an illusion, but it felt real and deeply affecting. Lucia swallowed hard, then moved towards the figure.
Feeling invigorated, Church slumped down at the foot of one of the stones. Decebalus, Aula and Jerzy moved amongst the lights, interacting with the people they encountered, their faces innocent and open like children’s as they gave themselves up to the wonder invoked by the potent atmosphere.
The missing lamp was forgotten, and his suffering at the hands of Janus, and all the many hardships he had faced, large or small. In that dreamy, endless moment, all the darkness receded. It was as if the universe was talking directly to him, and what it told him was not to worry about anything: all would be made right, and peace awaited him at the end of it.
He didn’t know how long he spent in that warm night with the shades shimmering around him, their soothing whispers mingling with the breeze through the olive trees. Eventually the blue lights winked out one by one, like stars fading as the dawn approached. Lucia appeared out of the night, her expression beatific. She sat beside him, and for a while neither of them could find any words to express the vast mysteries of what they had experienced.
Finally Lucia said, ‘We are blessed.’
‘In what way?’
‘Across the land, people suffer brief lives. They strive for little reward, and see those they hold in their hearts die, and they watch their own bodies wither. And though they cherish their beliefs, they are haunted by one simple notion: that there might be nothing more. That all the suffering might be for naught. That we appear, we feel pain, we wink out, the blink of an eye that amounts to nothing. But we know. This Blue Fire links our group and what is here, in this life, to what lies beyond. We recognise that we exist in a small pool, and beyond its edge there are infinite horizons we barely glimpse. We know that death is not the end. And we know that, however difficult it is to see, there is a reason for it all.’
Lazily, she rested her head on his shoulder, and he slipped an arm around her; friends. The magic of that balmy Italian night still hung in the air, and Church knew that whatever happened to him, he would never forget it.
Decebalus lurched up. ‘I thought I saw Secullian,’ he said, puzzled. ‘And he was smiling.’
Church glanced at Lucia, who was smiling, too.
‘We find comfort in the heart of mystery, for in mystery there is always hope for something better,’ Lucia said.
‘We’re going to need to remember that for what lies ahead,’ Church said. ‘There’s a war coming, and it’s going to be brutal and hard. I don’t know what the Army of the Ten Billion Spiders really wants, but it looks like they’re out to change the ways things were … are. They want to alter reality. And they’ve got the advantage — Janus, one of the oldest and most powerful gods, is on their side.’ His thoughts turned to his own personal war with Veitch, one that threatened all the Brothers and Sisters of Dragons to come. ‘How are we supposed to win a battle like that?’
‘How are we not?’ Lucia replied. ‘We stand for the Blue Fire, and we carry the colours of the Kingdom of the Serpent. Look around you, remember what we saw and felt this night, and tell me we cannot win. We are champions of a force that is pure and strong, a force that runs to the heart of everything we see and know. And it is always at our shoulder.’
Listening to Lucia’s words, Church felt a shift deep within him that was like the slow but powerful movement of the ocean. His own desperate predicament, and the deaths of Etain and the others, and all the other suffering he had experienced, had left him wallowing in darkness. But it was all a matter of perspective. He needed to look outwards, where hope burned everywhere, and where the Blue Fire waited to be tapped.
Lucia sat forward, her eyes glimmering with tears in the moonlight. ‘The deaths of Marcus and Secullian, their sacrifice, are the strength that empowers us. We fight for them. And every death will give us more strength, for every death is a sacrifice.’ She took Church’s hand. ‘If I die in the days ahead, do not mourn for me, for I will travel into the heart of the mystery. And in my leaving there will be no loss, only victory.’
Church leaned back against the stone and thought about her words until the sun came up. In the quiet peace of that night he had learned something profound that would help him in the struggle to come.
Chapter Four
1
While Church recovered at the Palace of Glorious Light, Niamh sequestered herself in her rooms and continued her investigation into the disappearance of her brother with mounting desperation.
One of her first visitors was the god the Celts called Math, a sorcerer from the Court of Soul’s Ease who wore a mask with different animal faces on each of four sides. It magically rotated around his head and each time a new face appeared, his voice changed accordingly. His disturbing appearance reminded Church of Janus, and that night he had his first nightmare about his time in Rome.
But even Math could not locate Lugh, and that left Niamh desolate, for Math could see across all the Fixed and Far Lands.
Decebalus, Lucia and Aula adapted quickly to the many wonders of T’ir n’a n’Og and formed a tight-knit group that began to build a reputation across the court for adventuring. But even though they were fellow Brothers and Sisters of Dragons, Church did not place them above suspicion in the disappearance of the Arabian lamp, though he could not comprehend any possible motivation. The missing lamp preyed on him continually. He had to presume it had been stolen for a purpose, but he didn’t know where to begin looking for it. In the meantime he felt bereft, as though the missing part of his Pendragon Spirit rendered him some kind of shadowy half-person, unable to affect the world around him.