Jack of Ravens

2

The procession moved through the Forest of the Night at dawn. As the birdsong began, and the butterflies fluttered amongst the trees, the king and queen led the Seelie Court at a measured pace. There were scores of them, stumbling and shambling, slithering and flying, but the mood was sombre and respectful. None spoke. Heads were bowed. It was the first time the Seelie Court had ever come together to share their grief and respect for a Fragile Creature.

With them were Niamh and Tom, still adrift, uncomprehending of what had come to pass. The procession stopped at the casket of gold and ivory, and the court formed a circle amongst the trees.

Niamh could contain her grief no longer. She began to cry silently.

‘Do not hide your tears, sister, for this Brother of Dragons is worthy of the sorrow of all creatures under Existence, though he did not recognise that himself,’ the queen said gently.

‘I do not understand how this could be,’ Niamh said. ‘If the Enemy attacked at the festival we would have known.’

‘He went willingly, as a sacrifice to save the lives of others.’ Tom spoke with the authority of someone who had glimpsed the truth.

‘Know this, sister,’ the king said. ‘The Brother of Dragons is not dead. Nor is he alive. He hovers on the brink between the dark and the light until a way is found to break the Enemy’s spell.’

Niamh smiled sadly. ‘Then there is hope. But it is not something I will see. Or True Thomas.’

‘Sister?’ the king asked, puzzled.

‘We have both seen the patterns that lie ahead. Our own lives will be sacrificed in the coming conflict. I had dared to believe that path might change, but now I see it cannot. I am resigned to my fate, as is True Thomas.’

A murmur of appreciation ran through the assembly.

‘The Seelie Court recognises your great sacrifice, sister, and yours, True Thomas. You will never be forgotten in the stories of the Golden Ones. May we all learn from them.’ The king offered Niamh a candle that burned with a blue flame. ‘This light shall never go out as long as the Brother of Dragons lives. Take it, sister, and keep it by you in remembrance for whatever time remains you.’

As Niamh accepted the candle, Tom was deep in thought. ‘I wish to leave a gift in the casket,’ he said.

‘As do I,’ Niamh added.

‘Then do it,’ the king said. ‘The spiders will not attack unless you attempt to move them or the Brother of Dragons.’

One of the attendants opened the frosted glass lid. Niamh recoiled from the seething mass of spiders, but steeled herself to lean in. Church’s face remained uncovered and he looked as though he were sleeping.

Into the casket she slipped the pack of Tarot cards. ‘Take these with my love,’ she said softly. ‘If the gods would contact you, or you the gods, the ravens shall fly swiftly.’ She kissed him on his cold lips before turning away in grief.

Tom stepped up and pressed something between Church’s lips that the others couldn’t see. ‘A present from Doctor Leary,’ he whispered. ‘Use the sacrament wisely.’

The attendant closed the lid, and then they stood in silence, listening to the birds and the breeze rustling through the trees, thinking of times past and yet to come.