The Queen of sinister

After two hours beneath the blasting heat, a scrubby oasis rose up from the rolling dunes. Caitlin had come like a storm sweeping across the landscape, but now she decided to break her journey to refresh herself with water, though she felt as if she could walk without sustenance or rest for ever. Beneath the cool shade of the palms, she scooped several handfuls of the clear water to her mouth, then immersed her face and soaked her lank, greasy hair, already gritty with the wind-borne sand that was insinuating its way into her nostrils and ears.

She was only minutes out of the oasis on the path the Morrigan had chosen for her when she became dimly aware that she was not alone.

As the sand shifted beneath the wind, it uncovered two mounds on either side of her that gradually revealed themselves to be figures lying buried just beneath the surface. Shaking the streaming gold from them, they stood up quickly and threateningly. They wore armour that brought to mind Japanese samurai: black enamel with delicate gold line-work of swirls and scrolls, helmets with broad cantilevered panels at the sides and back, long swords that curved into a broad blade. Yet within each helmet, the faces appeared to be nothing but sand.

Caitlin waited for it to slough off, but it didn't; it just shifted constantly into an approximation of faces, mouths yelling or pensive, eye hollows, noses long and thin or hooked.

'What are you?' she asked defiantly.

'We serve the Djazeem,' they said together, their voices like the rush of granules through an egg timer. 'You drank their water. It was not given freely-'

'I do what I will,' Caitlin said, 'and no one tells me otherwise.'

'There are rules-'

'I make my own rules.' Caitlin notched an arrow, but wondered how she could possibly harm the oasis guards if their forms truly were made of sand. 'Don't stand in my way — I haven't got time.'

The guards stepped towards her with the unnerving rhythm of mechanical men; their swords sliced the air, then poised ready to strike. 'The Djazeem demand an offering in return for the theft of this most precious resource. You must pay-'

Caitlin loosed the arrow. It hit the right-hand guard in the middle of his face and punched through the back of his helmet. As she anticipated, it didn't affect him in the slightest. He continued to advance, pulling out the shaft as he did so and tossing it to one side with a gauntleted hand.

'So who are the Djazeem?' Caitlin said, attempting to buy time while she considered her options. But she had already placed the name the White Walker had mentioned when she had first entered the Far Lands.

'They are Lords of the Weeping Wastes,' the guards said in unison, still advancing. 'You are a visitor in their territory. You must obey their rules.'

'I've already answered that one.' Caitlin moved quickly to reclaim the discarded arrow.

The guards moved rapidly and balletically, spinning and striking so fast that their blades were a blur. Yet the instant they attacked, Caitlin's entire perception changed: it was as if time moved so slowly that her attackers were like statues. She projected the slow arc of their swords, considered several tactics and then danced athletically out of their way. The blades slashed through the space where she had stood, the guards spinning in surprise that she had evaded their attack so easily.

Their dance continued for five full minutes, Caitlin weaving through their attack, the guards growing more determined, their movements more complex.

Caitlin knew she could run and would probably evade them, given time, but the Morrigan's scratching voice inside her head suggested another path.

She came to a sudden stop, no longer knowing what she was doing; the Morrigan seized full control. It felt as if a weight was forming deep in the pit of her stomach. The guards didn't slow in their attack; their swords swept fluidly to slice through Caitlin from two separate directions. The last remaining conscious part of her knew she no longer had a chance to avoid them.

The weight in her stomach twisted and turned rapidly, as if a family of rats nested there. Electricity rushed to her extremities and she was thrown backwards, a black cloud erupting out of her. Crows. Born from within her, so many that they obscured the white-metal sky, the shifting sands, the two attacking guards. And still they came, pouring out of her in a constant stream of black feathers, thrashing wings, sharp talons and darting beaks. Their deafening cawing was like the sound of a summer storm.

The cloud billowed and then drew in with hurricane force on the two guards. Caitlin couldn't see what happened in the frantic attack, but within seconds the birds were retreating inside her. It felt like being pounded by rocks. Briefly, she lost consciousness, and when she was next aware, there wasn't a crow in sight. She lay on her back on the downward slope of a dune. Her hands went to her stomach, which was sore, as though she'd eaten a barrel of sour apples, but beyond that she was unharmed.

Pulling herself to her knees, she saw the guards' armour scattered all around, their sand bodies lost to the surrounding dunes. Movement caught her eye. A creature resembling a hairless monkey the size of her palm crawled out from beneath one of the breastplates.

Caitlin darted forward and snatched it up. It squealed in terror and pain as her fingers closed around it, the skin warm and obscene to her touch. But she held on tight and brought it up to her face.

'Do not harm me!' it said in a high-pitched whine.

'Now you listen to my rules,' Caitlin said. 'In return for your survival, you'll answer some questions. Do you understand?'

'I serve the Lords of the Weeping Wastes-'

'I'm not going to ask anything that goes against your obligations to your bosses. All I want is directions.' The tiny creature stared up at her with its little currant eyes. Caitlin felt the rapid beat of its heart through its papery skin. 'OK. How far am I from the Endless River?' she asked.

'It lies southeast of here,' the guard replied curtly. 'Follow the route you were taking, then turn south when you reach the edge of the Weeping Wastes. You will have to pass through the Plain of Cairns…' A flicker of something crossed its face, quickly stifled; Caitlin had the impression that the Plain of Cairns was not a place she should attempt to cross. 'Two sunrises should see you there.'

"Very good. Now, the river was taking me to a place where I could find something very important to me… it's called the House of Pain. Do you know it?'

The creature gave a high-pitched mewling that made it appear even more like a monkey. Its eyes ranged in its head, wide and frightened. 'The House of Pain is not of the Far Lands.'

'I was told it stands-'

'It stands on the Borderlands, but it is not of the Far Lands. It comes and goes between here and there… some say it even exists here and there. It belongs to the Great Dark.'

'If I chose to go directly to the House of Pain-'

'You would not return.'

'-which way would I go?'

The creature shivered, rolled its eyes, but saw no reason to try to dissuade her. Coldly, it said, 'When you reach the edge of the Weeping Wastes, it will present itself to you. If it requires you, you will not be able to turn away. And there shall come an ending.'

Caitlin glanced towards the horizon; her decision had already been made. It would be a waste of time to seek out her fellow travellers; besides, she had always known it would be down to her in the end. 'One last thing: I don't want any more trouble from your kind, or the Djazeem. I'm just going to pass through and leave you to your own devices. Understand?'

He nodded eagerly. 'And should we offer the same protection to any who follow in your wake?'

'Sure. Why not? Though I can't imagine anyone would want to follow in my footsteps.' She saw the creature's fellow watching malignantly from underneath the other breastplate, and tossed the one in her hand towards him. He hit the sand with another squeal. 'Now,' she said, 'not long ago I learned a little word to whisper to you.' Matt, Jack and Mahalia said goodbye to the Culture on the misty banks of the river. The members of the secretive group, now eager to play some part in the events they had awaited for so long, could barely wait to get back to their camp to scheme and plot. Mahalia hardly said a word. The weight of her actions still lay heavily on her, but she was starting to see a way through it.

As the Culture trailed back through the marsh to begin the ritual that would return the First to the human world, Sunchaser moved back into the stream. The mists disappeared so quickly, it became apparent they were part of the peculiar defences of the Culture's home, and soon the sun was beating down hard on a savannah that reached up to a range of snow-topped mountains in the east, and disappeared towards the horizon in the west. Occasionally the yellow grass shifted violently as if large beasts were tracking the boat, but they saw no other sign of life.

'He's off again,' Matt noted to Mahalia and Jack.

At the aft rail, Crowther sat rigidly while the mask began to tune into its psychedelic displays.

'It started the minute we left the mist,' Matt noted.

'Perhaps we should have left him with the Culture,' Jack suggested.

'No,' Mahalia said firmly. 'He's one of us.'

'You say that now.' Matt pulled his sweaty shirt away from the skin of his chest; it was growing hotter. 'You saw how bad it was getting. If he spins out of control, we're in trouble.'

'We'll think of something,' Mahalia said.

Matt thought for a moment and then said, 'You know we'll have to kill him. We can't risk failing the mission.'

Mahalia fixed a cold eye on Matt that made him feel instantly uncomfortable. 'This leadership thing is going to your head,' she said. 'You sound like some stupid army man. Or,' she added as she started to walk towards the professor, 'like me.'

She approached Crowther cautiously. It was impossible to tell exactly how the mask would react, but the nascent light displays moved away from her enough for her to conclude that she was seen as safe. She sat next to him and said gently, 'Professor, can you hear me?' There was no reply, but she thought she saw the silver mask move a little in her direction. 'I saw you in the clearing last night. Something had changed. I think you're aware in there. Can you hear me?' It seemed as if he wasn't going to answer, but then his muffled voice sounded. 'Yes.' She felt honest relief. 'If you're yourself again, why don't you take the mask off?' 'I can't.' 'Won't it let you?' 'No. I won't let me.' He turned his head away. 'Professor, you know what the mask can do. You told us yourself. It's getting out of control out here.' She glanced back to Matt who was watching her, arms folded. 'They won't let you stop us getting to the cure.' 'I know what you're saying.' 'Then take the mask off, for all our sakes.' 'Go away,' he said bluntly. 'Don't ask me again… for your sake.' She waited for a moment or two to see if he would soften, but his head remained turned away and the intensity of the mask's display increased, as if responding to Crowther's emotions. 'So are we going to have to kill him?' Matt asked when she returned. She walked straight past him to the prow. 'We'll probably all be dead long before we have to make that decision.' The mood on the boat was grim, and they all settled down in separate areas, conserving their strength in the growing heat; Mahalia told Jack she needed some time to think, and while it upset him, he acceded to her wishes. The savannah gradually gave way to a scrubby wasteland and then to an arid rock-strewn landscape that resembled the surface of Mars. The river had grown much narrower and it was apparent that they would soon have difficulty following its dwindling course. Before they had to make any decision, the boat drifted over to a wooden jetty. It was rickety and treacherous, with missing planks, some broken; it looked barely used.

'Terminus,' Matt said.

They collected their things and disembarked, sorry to be leaving the relative security of Sunchaser.

'Which way now?' Jack asked.

Matt pointed towards the northern horizon where the sky shifted with colours like a kaleidoscope. There was an area of darkness that hinted at some kind of structure, but it made their eyes hurt to stare at it for too long.

'The House of Pain,' he said redundantly.

'So all we have to do is cross this dusty old plain with all those piles of rocks,' Jack said, peering from beneath a shading hand.

'Cairns,' Mahalia said. 'They're called cairns.' Across hills and fields she came, down long roads filled with shadows, under nights of sparkling stars, through dappled forests, across windswept plains where the echoes of ancient voices could be heard, over crystal streams and the summer-drenched meadows of wild barley and poppy. At times, Mary thought the journey would never end. It was a quest that left the path and went deep into the heart of her, where dark caverns loomed like cathedrals, unexplored throughout her long life, the terrors they contained shrinking from the lamps of her eyes. When she finally emerged from the lanes leading out of Bradford-on-Avon on a sparkling morning of blue sky and hot sun, she was finally reborn into a new life, though she still hadn't truly understood that fact. Death continued to track her relentlessly, and it had drawn closer; on several occasions she had seen the twisted form jerking its way across the landscape and she had been forced to pick up her pace. But it no longer frightened her; it was simply there, as it always would be.

And now she had reached her final destination. Bath was spread out before her, home of her spiritual ancestors for ten thousand years, since the first Neolithic hunter- gatherers had left their simple offerings at the gushing hot springs. Mary knew her history and she knew her Craft, and everything had pointed her towards this place as the solution to the questions that gripped her.

Yet this was not the Bath she remembered. Vegetation swarmed over it, almost obscuring the grand Georgian buildings, the classical Royal Crescent, Pulteney Bridge with its echoes of the Ponte Vecchio. A wall of blackthorn the height of three men, softened by climbing honeysuckle and clematis, circled the entire city. Mature trees sprouted through the hard asphalt of the city centre's roads. Ivy draped from chimneys and gorse clustered in bushes, wild roses like small explosions of colour bloomed in every direction.

Though nature had started to reclaim many aspects of civilisation since the Fall, the density and maturity of the flora was too advanced. Magic was all around, in more ways than one: the vision of the works of humanity and nature in harmony was undeniably uplifting.

Yet the city was eerily still. No smoke drifted up from the many chimneys, nothing moved on the winding, ancient streets, neither human nor animal. Yet something was there; Mary could feel it, like a tremendous weight pressing outwards. Desperately hoping she had made the right decision, she set off down the slope towards the city.She walked for almost a mile around the perimeter before she found an opening. It was barely wide enough for one person to pass through, and the vicious blackthorns were so dense and so close that one misstep would have raised blood. As she moved cautiously along the winding path, she realised it had been carefully designed to allow only one person to enter at a time, either for defence or as a processional route to some sacred inner sanctum; perhaps both.

The wall of blackthorn must have been fifty feet thick, and when she emerged once more into the sunlight, she felt as if she was being born into a new world. The city no longer had the feel of any human place; it was otherworldly, heavy with mystery and a profound sense of sanctity. As Mary moved out into the sun-kissed streets, now filled only with the rustling of leaves and the perfume of wild flowers, she felt she was on the verge of some tremendous transcendent revelation. Everything around her, even the air itself, was heavy with meaning.

Feeling humbled, she made her way through the city slowly, drinking in the incredible peace, reaching out every now and then to trail her fingers through the leaves or to caress the petals of a flower. The old tourist signs still remained to guide her way, an irony that was not lost on her.

Bath had always had a time-lost quality, with its ancient sites pressed up close against modern developments, but now it was even more affecting. And as Mary moved through it, she realised the flashes she had seen from the corners of her eyes were not simply sunlight breaking through branches. There was movement, but not life. Ghostly men and women moved thoughtfully amongst the foliage. She saw strangely attired figures she took to be the Celts who had erected the first shrine at the city's springs in 700 bc, and Romans who had come after, and others in the clothes of later ages, drifting in a tranquil state, barely seen but their presence felt. They weren't frightening; rather, they gave Mary an odd feeling of comfort.Finally she came to her destination. Twin fires burned furiously in braziers on either side of the path, though there was no sign of anyone who could possibly have tended them. Beyond, the modern entrance hall to the site of the Roman baths was almost hidden beneath a thick covering of vegetation. But the doors stood open, the interior impenetrably dark.

Mary summoned up the reserves of her character. It was the time of reckoning. 'This water isn't going to last long.' Mahalia moistened her lips from the canteen they had brought from Sunchaser.

Matt shielded his eyes from the sun to peer across the dusty plain, where only crabgrass and rocky outcroppings broke the monotony of the cairns, so regularly spaced on the sweeping uplands that they resembled some geometric design intended to be viewed from the heavens. 'I don't know — it's hard to tell from this perspective, but it shouldn't be too long before we reach the other side.'

'What if there's no water there, either?' Jack asked. 'Not that I… really need it.' He cast a worried look at Mahalia.

'I think that's the least of our problems,' Matt replied.

Though the sun was low on the horizon, the sky was a mass of shifting colours, purple folding into gold, bubbles of red bursting into green shimmers. The sense that the Borderlands was now close was also evident in the surging eerie noises that occasionally materialised out of the wind, like the effects of some psychedelic garage band. Flavours burst on their tongues — strawberries, burned iron, cardamom and lime. The aroma of rose petals and incense filled the air.

Crowther followed them, his own twisting of reality more muted in comparison but still disturbing, windows on to other worlds opening here and there when they least expected it.

They had been walking all day across the unrelenting landscape, the river now lost far behind them. Their clothes and hair were white with the dust that worked its way into everywhere, stinging their eyes and choking their throats.

Jack eyed one of the cairns as they passed. 'What are they?'

'Just piles of rock.' Weariness was evident in Matt's voice. 'Someone had too much time on their hands.'

'That shows how much you know,' Mahalia said sullenly. 'They're memorials. In some cultures, they're burial mounds.'

Matt shrugged as if the distinction was unimportant, but Mahalia's words struck a chord with Jack.

He stopped and scanned the wide plain uneasily, taking in the countless cairns that stretched as far as the eye could see in every direction. 'Burial mounds?' he repeated.

'That's a heck of a lot of dead bodies,' Matt commented.

Mahalia saw the thoughts flickering across Jack's face; he looked ghostly in the fading light. 'What is it?' she asked gently.

'I heard something,' he began, struggling to pluck information from his memory's depths, 'in the Court of the Final Word. About a place of the dead… like an annexe of the Grey Lands, that's what they said. It had another name-'

'We don't need a history lesson,' Matt snapped, with irritation born of too much trudging. 'Just keep walking or we'll never get to the other side.'

Jack did as he was told, but kept searching for the information niggling at him. Crowther's warping of what passed for reality was setting them all on edge; it was impossible to concentrate on anything.

Yet even through the mask's weird effects, something unusual caught Mahalia's eye. 'Did you see that?' she asked. 'One of the rocks rolled off that cairn over there.' 'It's all that stuff the prof is causing,' Matt said. He picked up his pace, eager to get through this area before dark. They could all sense something in the air, though they had been putting it down to the unusual atmosphere in the proximity of the Borderlands. 'That's just light and sound,' Mahalia snapped at his dismissive attitude. 'The mask isn't generating any vibrations.' A rock rolled off another cairn to her left, and another directly ahead. This time Matt saw it, too. The stones appeared to have moved of their own accord. 'See!' Mahalia said with a note of triumph. Matt paused, then slowly turned, scanning the area. Rocks were rolling off cairns all over the place, one after the other, opening up gaps into their interiors. He glanced up at the sky. The psychedelic warping offered a deceptive illumination; the sun was almost down. On the other horizon, a full butterscotch moon was rising. A jolt transformed Jack's face. 'The Land of the Sleeping Dead!' More rocks fell. Every cairn was coming alive. Movement was visible in the cracks splitting open the ones near at hand. 'There are things inside!' Mahalia gasped. A ghostly white hand began to emerge from one of the openings. 'Jesus!' Matt said under his breath. He grabbed Mahalia and Jack, and yanked them forward. 'The professor!' Mahalia exclaimed. 'Leave him.' Matt began to run, then looked at the innumerable cairns stretching out into the distance and realised the futility of trying to escape. 'The Baobhan Sith!' Jack said, his face as white as death. 'What are they?' Mahalia asked. She began to move forward, saw another figure begin to emerge and turned back, only to be confronted by yet more. 'They lie in wait to suck the blood of travellers… you can't escape them…' Jack said breathlessly.

Matt noticed the cairns in the distance were unmoving. 'They're waking up as the moon's rays fall on them!' he said. 'If we run, we might be able to outpace them.' He sprinted from a standing start.

'You can't escape them!' Jack yelled. Nonetheless, he grabbed Mahalia's hand and ran, too.

The white dust rose in clouds under their pounding feet. Across their field of vision, shimmering shapes emerged from the cairns. There would be thousands, perhaps tens of thousands; and Matt, Jack and Mahalia were right in the centre of the vampiric creatures' homeland.

Matt's greater strength pulled him ahead, but he fell back when he saw Jack and Mahalia floundering. The Baobhan Sith drew slowly from their dark holes, hair long and wild, faces as inexpressive as dolls', dressed in tattered shrouds.

The shadows retreated before the moon's rays at a remarkable rate; there was no way Matt, Jack and Mahalia could keep up. One night creature pulled itself out near their feet as they ran, its dumb expression flickering at their passing. Hands reached out of the cairns ahead of them. At their backs, Matt, Jack and Mahalia could feel the weight of the massing ranks of the Baobhan Sith.

And then a terrible shriek cut through the dusty twilight air. Mahalia felt as if she'd been stabbed in the heart. It was an alarm. Matt glanced back, as more reverberating shrieks picked up the call, the look on his face revealing the horror they all felt.

And then the shrieks were all around. From the corners of her eyes, Mahalia could see masses of wretched figures sweeping towards them, a tidal wave of teeth and clutching hands. The cairns ahead were almost exploding as yet more bloodsuckers emerged rapidly in answer to the call. And suddenly they had nowhere to run. Mahalia dropped to the ground, huddling into a ball. Jack threw himself over her to protect her. They couldn't see Matt.

All around, the Baobhan Sith rushed towards the small circle of dust where they lay; it felt like the only tiny area in the vast plain not covered by bloodthirsty bodies.

And just as they screwed their eyes shut ready for the creatures to fall on them, something very strange happened. A powerful scent of roses descended, followed by the most intense silence Mahalia had ever heard; in a fraction of a second, there was no shrieking, no wind, nothing. She opened her eyes to see a glistening bubble all around them; Matt was sprawled in the dust nearby, blood streaming from the rake-marks of talons across his forehead.

Beyond the bubble, Mahalia could see the Baobhan Sith swarming like roaches, slipping around the edge of the bubble, unable to see it or Mahalia, Jack and Matt within.

'What's going on?' Jack asked, dazed.

Matt pointed through the bubble along the route they had come. Crowther stood there, the mask staring blankly at them. The Baobhan Sith were keeping well away from him, fearful of the power he was exhibiting.

Mahalia jumped to her feet. 'See! He is looking out for us!'

The bubble fizzed and faded in parts before strengthening again.

'I don't think he can keep it up for long,' Matt said. He looked around frantically for an option, then inspiration lighted on his face. Scrambling on his knees, he dived into one of the cairns and began to pull the rocks towards the entrance. 'Come on!' he shouted to the other two.

'You're crazy!' Mahalia said. 'What happens when they go back in there? We'll be trapped!'

'Any better ideas?' Matt snapped. 'I'm betting they won't return until sun-up. If they really are like Jack said, they probably can't stand the rays. So when this one starts coming in, we bolt out. If day's coming, they won't be able to follow us.'

Mahalia wasn't convinced, but she couldn't see another option. She pushed Jack in first, then forced her way in behind. It was cramped inside. The hard rock of the cairn jabbed into backs, ribs, heads, elbows.

With Matt's help, Mahalia rebuilt the doorway, and just as the last stone slipped into place, the bubble disappeared with a faint pooofl

Mahalia's heart instantly sprang into her throat. Through the gaps between the rocks, she saw the Baobhan Sith surge like wild animals into the space they had just vacated. Her breath caught. Would they see them hiding there, rip the cairn open and drag them out to tear out their throats with those needle-teeth?

For a second it seemed that they might. They came right up to where the opening had been, rushing round the edge of the cairn emitting that bone-chilling shriek. Yet none of them bent down to peer into the darkened cracks, or tugged at the precariously piled rocks. She could only guess that they must be predators with minimal intelligence. The thought did nothing to ease her fear.

For the long hours of the night, she remained rigid, afraid that the slightest movement would be heard; it felt as if she hadn't even taken a breath, and by the time the darkest hours had passed her chest burned with the strain.

The shrieking died down after a while, but the Baobhan Sith continued to roam in their masses, and on several occasions one came right up to the cairn, as if it had seen something within. Jack's nails dug into her shoulder more than once, but still she maintained her motionless vigil.

And for all that time Crowther stood stock-still nearby, the mask throwing off loops and warped flashes of light. The night creatures shied away from him like whipped dogs. Finally, the sky began to lighten. In one eerie moment, the entire seething plain of night creatures stopped moving, their noises draining away, and they turned as one to look towards the point where the sun would shortly rise. After a moment that may have been fearful or perhaps even respectful, they began to slink back to their cairns.

Mahalia felt Matt flinch against her back. Everything rested on the next few moments.

All around, the Baobhan Sith started to slip into their holes, the rocks magically rolling back into place. The night creatures passed on either side, heading home, and at last one began to stalk direcdy to the entrance. It paused outside, puzzling that the opening had been filled, and then began to pluck the rocks away with its unfeasibly long, thin fingers.

Matt tapped Mahalia on the shoulder and whispered, 'Now.'

Without thinking twice, Mahalia drove forward, sending the remaining rocks flying. Jack and Matt piled out after her.

The Baobhan Sith drew back, hissing like a cat, but it didn't attack. Instead, it cast repeated menacing glances as it passed by them, easing into the cairn and replacing the rocks behind it.

More Baobhan Sith streamed by on all sides, snarling or scraping the air with their talons, but not one of them made a move towards the companions. The three of them were frozen in the face of the preternatural terror, until finally they accepted that they weren't going to be harmed. The Baobhan Sith were driven by one primal fear: of the rising sun. Matt motioned for the other two to follow him, and they quickly picked a path, continually veering away from any of the Baobhan Sith who came too close, just in case.

Mahalia was soaked in sweat. She still couldn't believe they had got out; she had resigned herself to a quick and painful death. Glancing back hopefully, she was overjoyed to see Crowther plodding relentlessly behind them. She felt a deep and surprising connection with the professor that had crept up on her; even more surprisingly, it felt good. Once they found some way to get the mask off him, she was determined to let him know that he was a good person and that she trusted him. She felt there was no higher recommendation. By the time the sun emerged fully above the horizon, the last of the night creatures were gone, and only then did they allow themselves the chance to celebrate. Mahalia and Jack hugged each other and then they both hugged Matt.

'I thought our number was up there!' Matt gushed. 'Good old Crowther. Who'd have thought the old fool would save the day?'

Mahalia went over to thank the professor personally, but he gave no response at all. She returned to the others, undeterred.

Their survival invigorated them, wiping away the exhaustion they had felt for most of the journey. 'You know what?' Mahalia said. 'If we can get through that, we can get through anything.'

'Don't speak too soon,' Matt cautioned, but his face showed that he clearly felt the same way. The Plain of Cairns ended in a band of lush greenery. Once they saw it, they ran as fast as they could, whooping and skipping. Just beyond, in the shade of some tall trees, lay a series of lakes. They dived in fully clothed, washing the dust from their hair and throats.

Afterwards, they lay on the banks, resting and talking quietly, but they knew it was only a brief respite. The sky overhead mutated furiously with colours and sounds. 'Close,' Matt mused as he looked up at it. He nodded to a steep, grassy rise beyond the lakes. 'Just over there, I would say.'

They steeled themselves, then set off, climbing slowly, putting off what they knew lay ahead. As they neared the top of the rise, the House of Pain loomed up in the distance. It appeared to reach right up into the sky itself, but their minds still couldn't absorb any detail. They saw it as just a black smudge on their vision, and the more they looked, the more it made their heads hurt and the queasier they felt.

Finally they reached the top of the rise. As they looked out across another massive plain of grassland and rocky outcroppings, they realised that the Baobhan Sith hadn't been the worst thing at all.

Purple haze drifted as far as the eye could see, like the smoke of some First World War battiefield. Within it and behind it lay the army of the Lament-Brood, now swelled to apocalyptic proportions. The Whisperers faced the rise, completely surrounding the House of Pain, their numbers disappearing into the misty distance.

'Jesus H. Christ,' Matt said in awe.

'It looks like they've taken over everybody in the Far Lands,' Jack gasped. 'There must be a hundred thousand of them.'

'And there's just four of us.' Mahalia turned from the terrible spectacle and faced them with glittering eyes. Inside her, passion carved its way to the surface. This was it: her time. There was no backing away, no chance of survival. It was all about going out in the best way possible and she didn't care about death. She just wanted to do it right.

She smiled tightly and said, 'Game on.'