Jack of Ravens

3

Church searched their quarters, the music room and the extensive, steaming kitchens where Jerzy used to pass his time amongst the thronging cooks and their assistants. Afterwards, Church tried the Hunter’s Moon inn and the maze of alleys that had become a regular hideaway for both of them. Jerzy was nowhere to be found.

As Church made his way back to the palace, Tom ran up. ‘You’d better come quickly,’ he said breathlessly. ‘The bloody idiot has finally lost what little sense he had.’

At the palace, a crowd of bemused Tuatha De Danann stood in the central courtyard, looking up the vertiginous walls of the keep. Church could just make out Jerzy standing precariously on one of the gargoyles that vented water from the guttering.

Church sped up flights of stairs until he came to the window through which the Mocker had accessed the tiny ledge that led to the gargoyle. Church could see him balanced on its head, arms outstretched, eyes closed.

As Church threw one leg out of the window, Tom grabbed him. ‘What do you think you’re doing?’

‘I have to get him back in-’

‘You’re as much of a bloody idiot as he is.’ Tom averted his gaze from the dizzying drop.

‘I thought it was enclosed spaces that scared you.’

‘Enclosed spaces … heights … anywhere there’s the slightest chance I might lose my life ahead of schedule. You’re telling me it doesn’t bother you?’

Church glanced at the golden specks moving around the courtyard far below and felt sick. ‘I can’t let him do anything stupid.’

He climbed out. Instantly the wind threatened to drag him off the ledge, which was only as wide as his feet. He pressed his back against the stone and kept his eyes straight ahead. Each step was a battle. Vertigo made his perceptions shift so that he could easily have pitched forward, and he had to close his eyes continually to take a deep breath. Finally he was close enough to call.

‘Jerzy, what are you doing?’ He tried not to startle his friend, but Jerzy still wrong-footed himself in surprise. He went off the edge of the gargoyle and it was only his innate athleticism that allowed him to grab the carving with both arms and, feet kicking wildly, scramble back on top.

‘Go back,’ he sobbed. ‘Go back.’

‘What’s wrong?’ The stone was hard against Church’s back, the wind increasing.

‘If you die here, I truly will be damned.’ Tears streamed down Jerzy’s face.

‘I’m not going back inside until you tell me what’s wrong.’

Jerzy took a juddering breath. ‘What is wrong is that I have betrayed the greatest man to walk any of the Lands … the best friend a fool like me could ever ask for.’

‘You haven’t betrayed me.’

‘Oh, but I have, I have.’

A sharp gust of wind dragged past Church and he clutched at the stone, his hands slick with sweat. ‘You’d better tell me quick, Jerzy, because I can’t hold on much longer.’

Jerzy stifled a sob. ‘It was I who took the lamp that contained your essence. I delivered it to the Court of the Final Word.’

‘Why?’

‘I had no choice! They control me in a way that even the mistress cannot control me.’

Church steeled himself to stop his head spinning. ‘If they control you, you had no choice. I can’t blame you.’

‘You should, you should! I did it to buy my freedom!’ He prepared to jump.

‘Wait!’

Jerzy balanced precariously on his tiptoes.

‘You’re a friend, Jerzy, and I don’t turn my back on my friends, whatever they’ve done. We’ll sort it out.’

Jerzy hesitated. ‘Friends, still? Even after my grand betrayal?’

‘Friends, Jerzy.’

Jerzy looked towards him, guilt conflicting with desperate hope. Tears streamed down his face.

Back inside the keep, Jerzy flung himself at Church, burying his face in Church’s chest and sobbing uncontrollably. Church awkwardly gave him a brief but manly hug before prising him off.

Tom rolled his eyes and muttered, ‘For God’s sake.’

In the privacy of their quarters, with the doors securely locked, they huddled together as Jerzy retold how the Caraprix had been inserted into his head at the Court of the Final Word.

‘And it drove you to take the lamp containing my Pendragon Spirit just after we left Rome,’ Church said.

‘I was forced to deliver it to the old stones, where one of the Court of the Final Word crossed the barrier between worlds to collect it. You met me as I was returning from my terrible act.’ Jerzy unconsciously drove a knuckle into his mouth at the memory of what he had been compelled to do.

‘Why did they want the lamp?’ Church asked.

‘The Pendragon Spirit is the very essence of Existence,’ Tom said. ‘For one who can divine its secrets, anything is possible.’

‘We have to get it back,’ Church said.

Tom and Jerzy recoiled as one. ‘No one ventures into the Court of the Final Word unbidden,’ Jerzy hissed.

‘Those who enter never come out unchanged,’ Tom added. ‘Many do not come out at all.’

‘There has to be a way. The Pendragon Spirit is a part of me. I’m not whole without it.’

‘I know.’ Tom’s gaze was unwavering.

‘We can’t leave the lamp in their hands. It might be the key to unlocking all sorts of doors.’

‘I know.’ Tom looked down at his boots.

‘You’re saying I’m on my own.’

‘You do not venture in there on a whim,’ Tom said. ‘Planning is essential. You must bide your time until a path presents itself.’

‘All right, we gather information. But we can’t wait long.’

Tom nodded. I will begin discreet enquiries.’

‘The first thing we have to do is remove that thing from Jerzy’s head,’ Church said. ‘But we have to be careful it doesn’t get back to the Court of the Final Word.’

‘Who amongst the gods would be prepared to abort such a thing?’ Jerzy asked.

‘Somebody isolated,’ Church replied. ‘Someone who has more on their mind than idle talk. Get your things together, Jerzy. We have a long ride ahead of us.’