Jack of Ravens

9

Church woke on horseback, his arms secured around a warm body in front of him and a woman’s musk in his nose. At first Church thought it was Ruth, then Etain, and finally the chill brought him round fully and he saw he had his arms around Lucia’s waist. They were riding slowly through woodland with the rain dripping down through the canopy, the wind blowing all around, awash with the noises of nature. He could just make out the others on horseback ahead, dark shapes bobbing in the darker wood.

‘What happened?’

‘Ah, so you are awake at last.’ Lucia’s voice was laced with sadness, and Church thought she had been crying. ‘You flew too close to Aula’s god. We are Fragile Creatures, after all — our minds and bodies can only take so much.’

‘Did the Green Man say he was going to help us?’

‘Aula says that of all the gods he loves us as though we are his own children. He has requested aid, from whom I do not know. But he will not abandon us.’

‘Gods,’ Church said, still dazed. ‘They manipulate us, and torment us, and twist us out of shape. Roll on the day when we’re our own masters.’

‘A revolutionary,’ Lucia said humorously. She sounded better for it.

‘Where are we going?’

‘To greet the Ninth,’ she replied with irony, ‘and celebrate their joyous return home.’

At that they both fell silent. The horses continued at a measured tread. They carried no torch to keep themselves hidden, and the going was slow and dangerous in the pitch dark. They were on one of the old, straight tracks the Celts and the people who preceded them had carved into the landscape. It cut straight through the wood, roots twisting up and branches hanging down to make their passage even more precarious.

Briefly, Church had the impression of a figure in the trees watching their passing, but he sensed no threat, only curiosity. There was something familiar in its sleek, lithe appearance, and he remembered seeing something similar outside Carn Euny, just after the gathering that had mourned the stillbirth of the young girl Ailidh’s baby. But whatever it was vanished within seconds, and in the tense atmosphere was just as quickly forgotten.

After half an hour they broke out onto moorland where there was nothing to protect them from the full force of the elements.

‘This god-forsaken country,’ Lucia cursed quietly. ‘In fair Rome the rain is like velvet.’

‘Why did you come here?’ Church asked.

‘I was called by the Pendragon Spirit — it takes us to where we are needed. You know we cannot resist it. I hope to return home, one day.’

Church understood the plangent tone in her voice.

They came to a halt on a ridge. In the valley below, the full complement of a Roman legion marched in strict time. The thunder of their regimented step and the clank of their shields and armour gave the impression of a single giant machine of destruction moving relentlessly. Church could see why the Roman army was so feared across the known world, but even beyond that there was an unquantifiable menace about the Ninth Legion that chilled him all the more.

Joseph jumped from his horse and ran over to Church. He looked utterly out of his depth. ‘Are you to lead us in Marcus’s place?’ he shouted above the gusting wind.

Lucia untied Church’s hands so he could climb down. ‘You’re not suggesting five of us should oppose thousands, even if Cernunnos is providing some support?’ he said. ‘We’ll be slaughtered in minutes.’

‘But it is your role,’ Joseph said, puzzled.

‘It’s not my role to lead people to their deaths.’ All of them were looking at him, expectant, demanding; he couldn’t turn away. He sighed resignedly. ‘We need to get a closer look at what we’re up against,’ he said reluctantly.

Decebalus agreed with his tactics, and soon he and Church were skidding down the rain-slick bank to more tree cover further down the hillside.

‘The witch troubles me,’ Decebalus said of Lucia as they moved under the branches. ‘I do not trust her kind, and I do not like her at my back.’

‘You’ve got to get over it,’ Church said. ‘The only way the Brothers and Sisters of Dragons can work together is through trust. You have to be a tight unit, ready to risk your lives for each other. Or else you’re nothing … just five individuals. And what can anyone do alone?’

Decebalus took the lead through the dense wood until they came so close to the advancing legion that they could feel the ground shake. The big barbarian selected an old tree and motioned for Church to follow as he scaled the slippery bark with a speed that belied his size. He used his powerful arms to swing himself up into the large lower branches.

Finally they reached a branch as broad as a table along which they could crawl to a point fifteen feet or so above the place where the outer ranks of the Ninth Legion would pass. Decebalus hung upside down like a monkey to get a better look.

Church gripped the branch tightly as the tree began to sway with the approaching thunderous footfalls. When the first of the legionnaires marched into view, Church was transfixed by the jarring chiaroscuro intensity of the scene. The contrast of black shadows and white was too strong to be realistic.

As the legionnaires drew nearer, Church saw that to a man their faces were shockingly white, not with the bloodless look of fear, but the pure white of snow. And where their veins could be glimpsed, they were as black as ink with the poison that had spread from the metallic spiders embedded in each and every forehead. The legionnaires moved like robots, without the slightest hint of the discomfort that Numerius had shown, and Church realised this must be the final stage of the process that had been intended for him.

Church glanced at Decebalus and quickly realised that his superstition had rushed to the fore, threatening to overwhelm him. When he had thought he was only facing men, Decebalus had been as brave as ever, but now he was pallid and shaking so much he was almost slipping from the branch.

Tugging at Decebalus’s sleeve, Church managed to urge him back to the trunk, and soon they were on the ground and scrambling back up the hillside to the others. Decebalus was mute with fear, and Church dispatched him to the horses so the others would not see. After Church explained what they had witnessed, Joseph and Secullian crossed themselves, but Lucia and Aula took it in their stride.

‘What now? They are closing fast on Eboracum?’ Lucia asked.

All eyes were on Church. ‘I don’t think any Brothers or Sisters of Dragons can be killed by the Army of the Ten Billion Spiders. The Libertarian hinted that they can capture us, torment us, but they can’t deal with the Pendragon Spirit. Everyone else can chop us into bloody chunks, but not the thing we’re supposed to be opposing, which must really stick in their spider-throats.’

They eyed Church, still uncertain.

Decebalus appeared on the fringes of the group. ‘The only way we are ever going to amount to anything is by trusting each other. That is what sets us apart as champions.’

‘We’ll ride to where the Sixth Legion is preparing to meet the Ninth,’ Church said. ‘We’ll do what we can there.’

As the others returned to their horses, Decebalus said to Church, ‘I don’t believe a word of it, but if it gets them moving that is all that matters.’

As Church climbed onto the back of Lucia’s horse, she asked quietly, ‘Do we face our end?’ She showed no sign of fear.

Church couldn’t lie. ‘I don’t know.’