Jack of Ravens

4

Evgen led Church and Jerzy to two neighbouring chambers where they could recover from their ordeal. The rooms were comfortable with fires blazing in the hearths, rugs, tapestries, chests, chairs and a large bed in one corner.

Church dried himself off, but he was too troubled to rest. He repeatedly went to the window to look out across the storm-washed court. Etain was nowhere to be seen, but Church knew she would be back.

Despite the fire, he couldn’t rid himself of the chill in his bones and was pleased when a knock at the door signalled Jerzy’s arrival. The Mocker’s grin was tempered by troubled eyes.

‘Tell me, good friend,’ he said as he huddled in front of the fire, ‘was that truly a dead thing that hunted us this evening?’

‘Definitely dead, but not at peace.’

‘You knew her. I could see that in her face — and yours. What did you do to bring her back from the Grim Lands?’

The Mocker had given voice to the one question that had haunted Church since he had first seen Etain’s dead face. ‘I don’t know,’ he said. ‘Unless she wanted revenge.’ Church unburdened himself of everything — from his arrival in a past time to the discovery of the Pendragon Spirit and the murders of Etain, Tannis, Branwen and Owein.

‘I cannot say if she holds you responsible for her death,’ Jerzy said when Church had finished, ‘but know this: I hold you responsible for my life. I would be dead now if you had not risked your own existence to save me.’ His eyes sparkled with amazement that this should have happened.

Church was touched by Jerzy’s reaction. ‘I just saw you in trouble and reacted-’

‘Yes. You did not even have to think. That is the wonder of it. I believe we shall be good friends, Jack Churchill.’ For the first time his grin looked happy.

Their conversation was interrupted by Evgen, who was strangely uneasy. ‘Her highness requests your presence in the library.’ He nodded to Jerzy. ‘You may come, too.’

Evgen’s tone made it clear there was no choice in the matter. Church and Jerzy followed him along torch-lit corridors until they came to a large hall lined with shelves of books. Niamh sat at the head of a table surrounded by several other members of the Tuatha De Danann, all talking at once. Before her were spread piles of ancient leather-bound books with yellowing pages, scrolls and numerous maps printed in gaudy colours. Niamh waved her coterie away with frustration and summoned Church to her.

At the scooped breast of her gown, Niamh wore a piece of silver jewellery. Church was shocked to see it move of its own accord. At first it shivered, before the edges blurred and it reshaped itself into a silver egg that sprouted legs and scurried over Niamh’s breast and onto the table.

Church realised this must be one of the Caraprix of which Jerzy had spoken. He was mesmerised as the creature shifted its form again, growing into an upright, flat oval shape. In its movements, Church recognised a warped echo of the black spider that had burrowed into his arm.

The oval took on a glassy appearance; all Church could think about was Snow White’s wicked stepmother asking who was the fairest. The glass grew smoky, and when it cleared a moving image played across the surface.

‘I have been informed of your recent troubles.’ Niamh maintained her haughtiness, but now Church could hear an unfamiliar tone of unease beneath it.

‘Our apologies for being such a trouble, Your Highness,’ Jerzy said with a fawning bow. ‘We will ensure such a thing does not happen again.’

‘How can we ensure it?’ Church said. ‘Not that I’m not thankful for the last-minute rescue, but I’m betting you didn’t do it out of the goodness of your heart. You just didn’t want your possessions harmed.’

Niamh waved his comments away. ‘I would know the nature of the thing that hunted you.’

‘I don’t know what it was or why it was after me,’ Church half-lied. ‘Perhaps it’s like you, preying on humans just because it can.’

Niamh eyed Church forensically before indicating the Caraprix-mirror. ‘Reports have arrived from the very edges of the Far Lands, where they disappear into the mysterious heart of Existence. The foulest things in all of this realm are being drawn there.’

In the mirror, dark shapes tramped across a bleak landscape of volcanic rock and scrubby trees and brush, like ants trailing back to their nest from different directions. Fires sent up thick clouds of greasy smoke that added a hellish tone to the view. Church glimpsed a Redcap, its hair covered by ragged human skin, the remnants of intestines draped around its neck like jewellery. There were other things that Church half-recognised, though whether from his own memory or some bad dream he wasn’t sure, and others so horrific he had to look away.

‘What is their purpose?’ Jerzy saw Niamh’s expression harden and added hastily, ‘If you do not mind me asking, Your Highness.’

‘That is not yet known, though there have been reports of a structure being formed — a nest, perhaps, for these scurrying creatures.’

‘Something you can’t control?’ Church taunted.

Niamh’s eyes flashed. ‘At this time there is no need for the Golden Ones to pay it any attention.’

‘But you’re still worried that what hunted us is connected to it in some way.’

‘Begone! I find you tiresome. I will summon you again the next time I require entertainment.’ Her words were designed to sting, but Church found them reassuring; she was not as all-powerful and controlling as she pretended.