Jack of Ravens

8

‘Who is this Fragile Creature?’ Jerzy asked as they followed the echoes of Evgen’s boots down the winding stone steps.

‘It depends if he is who he says he is,’ Church replied. ‘Thomas the Rhymer is a figure from the myths of my people, like King Arthur — very much like Arthur, in fact. Both of them were supposed to sleep under a hill until the darkest hour when their people would need them again.’

‘So he was a great warrior?’

‘Not in the same way. According to the old stories, Thomas was kidnapped by the Faerie Queen while he slept under a hawthorn tree. He stayed with the Fair Folk for a while and was given two great gifts: the power of prophecy and the Tongue that Cannot Lie. If you can actually call that a gift. True Thomas, they called him. When he returned home to Scotland he made his mark, achieved legendary status and then disappeared back to Faerie. But that might not have happened yet. Or maybe this is it happening now. I can’t get my head around the whole time-not-being-linear thing.’

‘Perhaps he simply ran out of friends in the Fixed Lands because of all that truth-telling,’ Jerzy said.

Evgen led them into a large chamber in the castle’s guard-tower where a man sat alone, swathed in a cloak with a hood pulled over his head. Evgen nodded to Church and left.

The man stood and removed his hood to reveal a dour face and lank brown hair. Intelligent but troubled grey eyes surveyed them forensically. ‘This is it, then.’ His Scottish accent softened his irritable tone. ‘A naif and a fool.’

‘What winning ways,’ Jerzy said drolly. ‘We must introduce you to the queen.’

‘I’ve been teaching him the humour of our world,’ Church said. ‘He particularly likes irony and sarcasm.’

‘I am glad you are using your time wisely,’ the stranger said. ‘After all, you could simply be fighting for humanity and the whole of Existence.’

Church tried to read how much the stranger knew, but his eyes gave nothing away.

‘I have been gifted — ’ Thomas enunciated the word venomously ‘- with the ability to see into the future. We are fated to walk the same road, at least for a while.’

‘Friends, then,’ Church said.

‘Oh, I would not go that far.’ Thomas the Rhymer smiled tightly.