Jack of Ravens

9

What followed came in flashes as if he were viewing intermittent frames on a reel of film. Being carried out of the fogou, seeing the powder-blue and pink flush of a dawn sky, with a few stars and a ghost-moon still hovering. Lying next to the fire in a roundhouse with Etain leaning over him, tears in her eyes. A foul stench from a pot bubbling over the fire, and an anxious Conoran throwing unseen things into the brew. Tannis bowing before him, making some oath that Church couldn’t translate.

A long period of darkness followed, and when Church next came to consciousness, the fragmentary nature of reality had subsided but the pain and exhaustion in his limbs was near-unbearable. Church fumbled for where the spider had been embedded in his arm, felt nothing.

‘Death stalks you.’ Conoran loomed over Church, his pale eyes gleaming in the firelight. ‘Are you ready for the next step of your journey?’

‘Yes.’ Church’s voice sounded as if it came from a different person. ‘But I’m not ready to die.’

‘You must fan whatever flames lie within you if you are to pull your spark back from the dark.’

‘What do I have to do?’ Church found his strength creeping back, but he still could not lift his head.

Conoran considered his response. ‘You are to meet the god above gods and plead for your life.’