Destroyer of Worlds

4

Entranced, Church, Veitch and Ruth moved amongst the camps of the tent city, each one with its own particular flavour, each wild and untamed.

They avoided the gaze of a snake-haired woman and were mesmerised for almost half an hour by the mercurial tongue of Hermes, speaking what at first appeared to be nonsense as he addressed a small crowd. More snakes slithered in streams from a black tent where Damballah watched them with burning eyes. Birds flocked around the beak-faced Tangata-Manu. Ishtar ignited barely controllable erotic desires as she attempted to summon the three of them to her tent, and the Shichi-Fuku-Jin travelled in a boat that floated a foot above the ground, offering Church good fortune for the coming battle.

Finally, they could take no more. In the midst of the gods, every sense was forced to operate at its most heightened, and they began to feel queasy from the power that radiated off each of the beings. Despite the status of the Brothers and Sisters of Dragons, the sense of threat from many quarters was palpable, and on more than one occasion they remained unsure about the virtue of having the gods at their backs.

Emerging from the bubble of glamour, it felt as if they had escaped into a quiet room where they could finally catch their breath.

In the shadow of the walls, Etain and the other Brothers and Sisters of Spiders waited on their mounts, dead, unblinking eyes fixed on Veitch.

'Look, I'll catch you later,' he said to Church and Ruth uncomfortably. 'I'm just… you know… going to say a quick word.' He went over to the group and, for the briefest moment, Etain's eyes snapped onto Church, and then Ruth.

'I don't trust her,' Church said.

'I thought she was an old girlfriend of yours,' Ruth said tartly. 'Oh, wait… and what about Niamh, psychotic bitch and arch-manipulator? A lack of trustworthiness seems to be the defining factor. You certainly know how to pick the rotten apples in every barrel.'

'I picked you, didn't I?'

'A brief lapse in your bad taste.'

Acutely aware of the time for their departure drawing closer, Church led the way back to the city gates. 'So, are things all right with us?' he asked hesitantly.

'This isn't the time to have that kind of conversation,' Ruth replied, before adding, 'We're fine.'

'What about Veitch?'

'It's complicated.'

'How?'

'He needs me. And I've got to help him, because we all need him.'

Church set his jaw.

'I know that's not what you want to hear,' Ruth continued. 'Church, I don't want anyone else but you in my life. But I meant what I said to you in Norway.'

'Is this where you give me the Casablanca talk?'

'We don't amount to anything compared to what's going on around us.'

'I disagree with you so profoundly I can barely put it into words. You and me, what we have, is the entire reason why we do what we do. It's a symbol-'

'Don't start intellectualising just to win your argument.'

'I can't help who I am, Ruth. I think deeply about everything. Including you and me… and Veitch. I know he's trying to win you over, and I'm not going to stand back and let it happen.'

Her eyes flashed and Church felt as if he was looking into a deep well of Blue Fire. 'Okay, let's get one thing straight,' she said. 'I am not a ball that bounces back and forth between you and Ryan. I am not here to be fought over. It is not my role to be "the girlfriend". You love your archetypes, but I'm not playing that one.'

'I didn't mean that-'

'Accept that I love you. Deeply. And then give me space to find my own path to where you want me to be.' She didn't wait for a reply, marching through the gates and up the winding, cobbled street towards the Palace of Glorious Light. In every word and every movement, he saw the strength and sensitivity that had first attracted him to her, undiminished.

She was right, he knew that. And he hated his own insecurity, but he was more afraid of losing her than anything else. He wanted to claim that he'd accepted the hero's role for the sake of humanity, and Existence, and all the good, decent reasons that the storybooks liked to claim. But it was for Ruth. Always Ruth. And while he could rise above that for most of the time and do the right thing, if he didn't have Ruth he was afraid of what he would do.

The depth of his feelings was not only the source of his strength, but also his greatest weakness, and in them he could hear the first seductive whispers of the Libertarian. Sickened and afraid, he hurried into the city.