The Queen of sinister

The dark wood loomed before them, vast and low, breathing the slow, measured breath of the predatory animal. Beneath the thick canopy, only shadows lay; sometimes they moved of their own accord. Nettles, brambles and emerald ferns clustered around the forest's edge, the only easy access along the thin path that wound into the heart of it.

Midges danced in the uncomfortably hot morning sun while birds fluttered here and there, but never appeared to enter the trees.

Caitlin wiped a thin slick of sweat from her forehead and thought of the book she had been reading to Liam. The echoes still reverberated through her mind and she mulled over Crowther's suggestion that the impression of this world was created by the people who viewed it. Was she plucking this wood from her memory? Was she remaking the entire place as fractured and desperate as her own deep subconscious? If that was the case, what chance did they have? 'This place has haunted us since we crawled out of caves.' Crowther was at her side, drawn and weary, but at least he was finally talking to her again. Unsettlingly, he appeared to be reading her mind, or perhaps the troubled expression she wore whenever she glanced at the deep dark forest. 'It's the Wildwood,' he continued, 'the primeval forest of our deepest, darkest memory, where all the real terrors lay. This Otherworld is a land of archetypes, and the wood is one of the most affecting. Do you feel it?'

She nodded, thinking oddly of The Wind in the Willows, of Robin Hood and his green men, of the place where Laurence Talbot loped amongst the trees. 'Have you forgiven me?'

There was a long pause before he replied, 'No. I'm simply good at making accommodations with life — always have been.'

Matt came up, swatting away the flies that buzzed around him. 'Better get a move on,' he said cheerily. 'With the Whisperers on our trail, we can't be sitting around.'

'Has anyone told you that your continually perky and upbeat attitude is monumentally irritating?' Crowther said sourly before stalking away.

'You'd think he'd take off his hat and overcoat in this heat,' Caitlin said.

'He thinks it makes him look like Gandalf,' Matt replied caustically, 'when actually it makes him look like a fat old git in a hat and an overcoat.'

She laughed. 'You can be very unkind.'

Caitlin was aware of Matt standing so close that their shoulders almost brushed. It gave her a strange flush of excitement, and that made her unconscionably guilty; how could she even begin to have such thoughts so soon after Grant's death?

'I'm sorry we haven't had time to search for your daughter,' she said, bringing the conversation firmly back to family.

'There'll be time. I didn't bring it up because I didn't want you clubbing me round the head and dragging me off.'

'The professor was different-' she began to protest until she saw that he was joking. His teasing grin brought another unnecessary flush of something.

'I think about Rosetta all the time,' he said, 'but I understand our responsibilities to the people back home. If we don't find a cure for the plague, there won't be any human race left for me to take Rosetta back to.'

'I promise you, once we've delivered the cure, I'll come back here to help you search… however long it takes.'

'I appreciate that.'

A moment of mutual support and tenderness swelled between them. Matt saw her dismayed confusion and moved to ease it. 'This place looks like it might be dangerous. We need to have somebody at the front and back on guard, and I think weapons should be drawn until we're sure of how it's going to play out.'

Her mood changed as she turned to practical matters. She organised the others into a group at the entrance to the wood, despite disruption from Mahalia, who had plainly taken it on herself to challenge Caitlin's authority at every turn.

'Keep Carlton at the centre of the group,' Caitlin said. 'We have to protect him at all costs.'

Though she undoubtedly agreed with the sentiment, this comment appeared to annoy Mahalia immensely, for her knuckles grew white around the Fomorii sword. After the blazing heat of the day, the air was cool and sweet beneath the thick canopy of leaves that cast the world in emerald and grey. Where the branches were at their thickest, the forest floor was almost bare, but in the areas where the sun came through in gleaming shards, thick vegetation rising high above them reduced the path to a ribbon so narrow that they could only walk single file. At those points where visibility was limited, they most feared an attack. Constant movement in the undergrowth kept them permanently on edge. They broke for food after a couple of hours' hard trekking. Matt had brought some of the food regularly left for them in their chambers at the Court of Soul's Ease — fruit, dry bread, cured meat. They refreshed themselves with rainwater collected in the cups of exotic blooms that occasionally spread across their way; it tasted sweeter than any water they had drunk before, and its effect was potent: weariness was flushed from their limbs.

'Look at this,' Jack said curiously. He cupped in his pale palm the head of one of the flowers. The petals were black and withered, dripping the liquid of rot.

Mahalia made a disgusted face. 'You're getting it all over you. Put it down!'

He tossed it away, flashed her a smile. Her response, blunt and challenging but secretly teasing, was lost beneath a low rumble that rose to a high-pitched shriek, somewhere deep in the woods. It was clearly a large animal, though it was impossible to tell if it was hunting or in pain.

They all jumped to their feet. The cry affected them on some primeval level, where the race memories of prehistory were fossilised.

'What the hell was that?' Matt said.

Crowther remained rigid. 'What would be here, in the Forest of the Night?' he mused to himself. 'That wasn't the Wild Hunt. What other dark myths, what other archetypes…?' His words turned to muttering and retreated inside him.

'Let's move,' Caitlin said.

They set off quickly, the animal call still echoing in their heads.

'Could any of you estimate the size of the forest from the view we had when we were wrapped up in the mask?' Matt called.

'Vast.' Crowther wheezed as he levered himself along on his staff. 'But that doesn't matter in a place where time and space are meaningless. We might be through it this afternoon or a hundred years hence.'

'Thanks for the boost,' Matt said.

'We'll be all right as long as we don't stray from the path.'

Mahalia tried to read Crowther's face, saw his subtle mischief and couldn't resist a smile. He was surprised how warm the connection made him feel, and he responded with a smile of his own. Strangely, she didn't scowl or glare, but held his expression briefly. Not even the jagged rocks could keep out the brutal winds of the Ice-Field. Caitlin huddled in a nook, watching the others. Brigid sat cross-legged, cackling to herself like some caricature of a witch from a child's fairy story, while Briony paced back and forth, chain-smoking and bitching to herself. Amy hugged her arms around her, scared as she always seemed to be. Occasionally, though, the little girl would wander over to Caitlin to check that her other self was all right.

The figure in the shadows at the back of their feeble shelter, the one who scared them all, had moved forward enough that Caitlin could just make out her shape against the deeper darkness. She was angular and predatory, her hair wild, and at times she resembled a giant bird more than a woman. Her influence was growing stronger. Sometimes she would call to Caitlin with an insidious whisper, luring, cajoling; at other times she would bellow with a terrifying rage, and on those occasions the others would back away to the very edge of the shelter where the glacial sheets encroached. Although she didn't know why, Caitlin dreaded what would happen when the woman finally emerged into the light.

Amy sat next to Caitlin and slipped an arm around her. 'There's a lot of upset ahead. But whatever happens, don't ever, ever give in to despair. It's easy to slip into that… and once you do, everything goes wrong.' Her voice had taken on a dark tone.

'Despair doesn't just come from the inside,' Brigid said. Her cackling had gone; her face was grave. 'Events conspire, people conspire. You've got to watch out for… anything that might drive you towards despair. Because that's what they want.'

'What who want?' Caitlin's nerves were prickling. This wasn't just part of the conversation; Brigid was imparting something important.

'All the forces lined up against life. The things that want to destroy anything that's good. And behind them all is one thing, one force.'

Caitlin moved away from Amy's comforting arm. She felt cold, colder than she ever had before. 'What do you know?'

'Things are falling into place. You have to be on your guard.' Brigid sighed. 'But it's not all down to you. Sometimes despair is like a spike and others drive it into your heart. They haven't decided yet… they're still thinking. Is the one too precious to them? That's what they think. It could go either way…'

'You're not making any sense!' Caitlin said desperately.

'In the end, it's all down to people,' Amy said sadly. 'Good people and bad people — and sometimes there's nothing you can do but pick up the pieces. If it goes wrong, it won't be your fault, Caitlin. Remember that. Just try… try not to let despair poison your heart.'

'It depends,' Brigid mused, 'on how they drive the spike. She might not have a choice.'

'So sad,' Amy said. 'So sad.'

Caitlin was overwhelmed with a desperate sense that things were falling away from her. 'Stop talking in riddles! If something bad's going to happen, tell me so I can stop it!'

Brigid shook her head. 'I can't tell you any more. I'm not allowed.'

'Not allowed by whom?' Caitlin demanded. There was a long pause while Brigid turned the question over. In the end, she simply said, 'Not allowed.'

She returned to her detached cackling and Amy got up and wandered away. Caitlin stared out to the bleak horizon where the black sky merged with the white Ice Field, terribly afraid of what lay ahead. An hour passed, two, and then they started to lose all sense of time. There was just the greenwood, dense and never-ending, like green static hissing at the back of their heads. Oak, ash, elder, hawthorn, rowan, thick banks of creeper, fern, nettle, gorse, long grass. Sometimes they would chop the path clear with Mahalia's rusted sword, only to see it mysteriously close up behind them. Yet it was hypnotic in its monotony, lulling them into a somnambulistic state.

Perhaps they even slept as they walked — none of them could be wholly sure — but it was a while before Caitlin's conscious mind accepted that it was seeing movement under the trees on either side. 'Did you see that?' she asked lazily.

No one responded; the only sound was the rhythmic plod of their feet.

She glanced back and forth, seeing nothing unusual, but when she looked ahead, the flickerings on the edge of her vision disturbed her once again. 'What is that?' she muttered with irritation, plucking at her eyelashes to see if dust was distorting her vision.

A breeze; her skin turned gooseflesh. Or was it wind, for despite the heat of the day it was cold and it was here and gone in a fraction of a second; it felt like a breath. As she continued to walk she became more receptive to movement, on both sides. At first it looked like the flashes of shadow and light that appear outside a fast-moving car on a summer's day, but the more she concentrated, the more they fell into relief. Shapes. Figures! Insubstantial, like mist forming the essence of a person. They moved quickly, flickering amongst the boles of the trees, some near, some far away.

Now she had realised what it was, the spectacle was mesmerising. She was in a dream, sitting on the lawn on a summer's eve as the curious moths came from all over to investigate the lamp.

In this half-detached state, it took her a while to realise that one of the shapes had stopped and was allowing itself — if that was the right way to consider it — to stand in full view. She looked directly at it and was surprised to see a man with long white hair and a pleasant, smiling face beckoning to her. Still insubstantial, he had a Regency look, wearing a frock coat and pantaloons, and his mood was one of cheery optimism, as if he had just spotted a long-lost friend.

Behind him, the other shapes continued to flit hypnotically amongst the trees, scores of them, perhaps hundreds.

Caitlin smiled and the ghost smiled back. He beckoned again. He had something he wanted to show her, or hospitality he wished to offer.

She wondered briefly why a man in Regency costume would be haunting a forest in the middle of another world, but the thought came and went as quickly as his brethren. She was fascinated: by him, by the way the light broke through the leaves, by the constant movement, but she barely considered the fact that all sound had disappeared from the world.

'Come,' he appeared to be saying in his silent way, 'we shall have such fun together.'

Something large thundered through the trees deeper into the wood; an enormous oak cracked and fell, jarring the ground so forcefully that she almost stumbled. Whatever had crashed into it continued on its way, but the disruption broke the spell. The ghost looked over his shoulder in shock and in an instant his appearance changed. Caitlin had a fleeting impression of something old and twisted, not human at all, and then it was gone into the trees, screaming silently.

Caitlin shook her head as if surfacing from the depths of a swimming pool. There was a pop and sound returned: the rustle of leaves and the creak of branches, bird calls high above the canopy, and somewhere far away, people calling her name.

She looked around. The others were nowhere to be seen. The path was gone. And all around the ghosts flitted like angry wasps, preparing to move closer.

Her heart pounded. How could she have been so stupid as to fall under such a spell? Why hadn't the others noticed? Now she had no idea which way the path lay, and the trees distorted the calls of her companions so that it was impossible to tell their origin.

Her first instinct was to fit an arrow and draw her bow, though she knew instinctively it would be of no use. Now that her head was clear she could sense the ghosts' predatory nature; she had the impression that they hated her, wanted not only to destroy her but to torment her in the process.

She caught a glimpse of another face, eyes too big and dark, mouth wide. Not human at all.

She ran, hoping she was heading towards the others. Branches tore at her face. And then she thundered straight into a long, low object that winded her. She was shocked to see it was a casket, standing on its own with no sign of why it would be there, in such a lonely, inhospitable place. It was constructed from gold and ivory, and the lid was made of a heavy, frosted glass. On the side was a legend: Here lies Jack Churchill, Brother of Dragons — His final battle fought. Before Caitlin could work out what it meant, the ghosts-that-were-something-more flitted all around, hurrying to close the circle. There was still an opening, but before she could break through it, she was knocked to the soft peat-mould. Though winded once more, she fought wildly until powerful hands clamped her down and a gentle voice said, 'Do not struggle, Fragile Creature. I am a friend of you and all your kind.'

She looked up into an incredibly beautiful face: golden skin, high cheekbones, almond eyes, long hair — everything about him was filled with a lustre. More than that, he exuded a tremendous power that invigorated and excited her.

But as he looked into her face, his expression grew curious. 'A Sister of Dragons? Can this be?'

'My… my name is Caitlin.'

He rose, offering an exquisite hand to pull her gently to her feet. As he looked her up and down, with a surprising awe that mirrored her own, he nodded and said, 'Yes, it is so. And here, in the Forest of Glimmering Hope.' He gave a formal bow. 'My name is Triathus. I am one of the Golden Ones, the people your tribes once called the Tuatha De Danann.'

Caitlin was briefly puzzled — he looked nothing like the short, stout residents of the Court of Soul's Ease. But before she could question him, he became aware of his surroundings and quickly took her hand once again. 'Come. We must reach the path before the Gehennis decide to attack.'

The circling ghosts had drawn back at Triathus' appearance, but were now confident enough to move closer once again.

'What are they?' Caitlin asked. Some quality in his nature made her trust him instantly. She allowed herself to be led by the hand as he loped gracefully through the trees. The ghosts buzzed with increasing annoyance, unsure what to do. 'They are the dreams of dying Fragile Creatures,' he replied. 'Bitterness and hatred for what has been lost consumes them, for they know they can never be dreamed again. They prey on all who stray from the path, but Fragile Creatures are always their choicest meat.'

'They eat us?'

He glanced at her with a puzzled expression, as if she were speaking a foreign language, yet his English was impeccable. 'Not in the manner that you mean. They have no interest in your corporeal form. But who you are, what you think, what you dream… that is what feeds them.'

'My soul?'

He nodded, satisfied. 'The Gehennis are soul-eaters.'

The calls of Matt and Crowther were now much clearer, and through the foliage Caitlin could glimpse them ranging back and forth. 'There are my friends,' she said.

'The Gehennis chose you because your essence, your soul is stronger. Otherwise your friends would be long gone.'

The Gehennis made one last move as the path came into view. They streamed from several directions, their true appearance growing more horrific with each passing second. Triathus faced them and made a strange gesture with his hand that resulted in a blaze of golden light. When Caitlin's eyes cleared, there were no Gehennis to be seen anywhere.

'We must hurry. They will return,' Triathus said.

They came to a halt on the path where Matt and Crowther's astonishment quickly turned to suspicion.

'It's OK,' Caitlin said. 'He helped me.'

Jack hung back, his face dark with fear and hatred. Triathus noticed him and held out both his hands, palms upward. 'I see in you the mark of the Court of the Final Word,' he said. 'I can only apologise for the atrocities of my people. I stand with Fragile Creatures, as do all members of my court.'

'Which court is that?' Jack asked darkly.

'The Court of Peaceful Days.'

This appeared to placate Jack, but he continued to keep his distance from Triathus.

'What were you doing out there, alone?' Caitlin asked.

At this, Triathus grew sombre. 'My people are at war-'

'We were told — by Lugh.'

'Then know this: the first skirmish has already taken place. The horns of war have called forth and the Golden Ones are split asunder, perhaps for evermore.' There was a desperate sadness to his voice. 'My comrades and I were travelling the Endless River, bound for the Court of Soul's Ease to persuade Lugh to join our cause, for if Lugh agreed, other neutral courts would quickly follow. But as we moored, we were attacked — unwarned, at our backs, against all the long traditions of my people — by a group from the Court of the Yearning Heart. My comrades were slaughtered where they stood! Golden Ones, eternal, part of Existence itself… lost for all time! How could this happen? How could one of my people commit such a crime against another?'

'We've been asking that question for a long time,' Matt said.

'I still do not know if this is the first strike in the greater battle, or simply a minor altercation, prefiguring what is to come,' Triathus continued. 'My people are patient — we have eternity at our disposal — but if it is the beginning, those who fight for the future are ill-prepared. We will be slaughtered.' He added coldly, with disbelief, 'Perhaps that is what the other side wants.'

'A fight between those who want to hang on to the past, and those willing to grab hold of the future,' Matt said thoughtfully.

'Between consistency and change,' Triathus said. 'My people, of all the peoples, should know that change is the lifeblood of Existence. But we have remained stagnant for too long, and we have grown arrogant in our superiority. We do not want to be supplanted.'

'Then why do you fight for us?' Caitlin asked.

'Because my side do not believe we will be supplanted. There is no reason why the Golden Ones and Fragile Creatures — no longer fragile! — cannot go shoulder to shoulder into the future, equals in an unstable realm.'

Triathus' sadness and shock were affecting. But it was Carlton who came from the back and took Triathus' hand. He looked up at the god with his beaming, innocent face and a sparkle came to Triathus' eyes.

'Intriguing,' Triathus mused as he examined Carlton, without giving any further explanation.

Crowther, who had been listening with an expression of deep concentration, rudely pushed his way past Caitlin and said, 'You've got a boat?'

Triathus indicated along the path. 'Moored on the Endless River-'

'Is it damaged?'

'No.'

'Will you allow us to use it? We are on a very important quest for the survival of… Fragile Creatures.'

'Of course,' Triathus replied without a second thought. 'I will accompany you. I must return to the Court of Peaceful Days to recount what has occurred.'

'Let's get moving,' Matt said. 'I don't like all that movement in the trees… and that wild animal we heard earlier

They set off quickly, with Triathus leading the way. The path ran straight as a die for what must have been ten miles, through forest clearings where they enjoyed the sun on their faces after the chill beneath the branches, through patches of briars that they had to hack their way through, across crystal streams and by brackish pools, where strange bubbles rose occasionally to the surface of the oily water. When they were less than half a mile from the river, according to Triathus' estimations, they realised they could smell it, fresh and invigorating after the oppressive aromas of sun-heated vegetation.

Mahalia was unusually drawn to Triathus. Throughout the course of the journey, the others all saw her eyes repeatedly pulled towards the god, and a mixture of awe and wonder light her often sullen face. At those moments she no longer resembled the hardened, brutal young woman they had come to know, and there was a hint of the child she might have been in easier times.

Finally they could glimpse the river through the trees, ablaze with the reds, oranges and golds of the setting sun. After the gloom of the forest it was an uplifting sight, and their step quickened despite their exhaustion.

Jack was keen to rush ahead to the water, but Matt caught his shoulder before he could run off. 'Wait. I can hear something.'

They all could, now they were listening clearly; trees and branches cracked as the enormous thing that had circled them for most of their journey moved nearby. Its rumbling roar rolled out through the trees, setting their teeth on edge, making their stomachs turn.

They all stopped as one, swords and bows drawn. 'Where is it?' Caitlin asked.

'I think I see it over there.' Mahalia pointed past a wall of creeper. A tree crashed to the ground nearby, and they all briefly caught sight of something as big as a bus moving through the shadows.

'My God!' Crowther hissed.

Caitlin loosed an arrow, but the thing was already gone as it whistled through the trunks.

'Don't bring it to us!' Mahalia snapped.

'I think it's already decided we're on the menu.' Matt looked along the path and saw that the vegetation thinned out in the approach to the river. 'If we can get to the boat-' An enormous shadow fell across them. Caitlin turned to face the creature. It was a boar, but supernaturally large and hideous, its features alien, its tusks stained with gore.

Crowther blanched. 'Twrch Trwyth.'

Triathus knew it by another name. 'The Waustig.'

Yet it didn't attack. It cast one brief look in their direction and then lumbered back into the trees, the deep bass rumble of its voice sounding like an industrial machine. Something was amiss with the great boar. Caitlin noticed it was unsteady on its hooves, occasionally blundering into nearby trees, while its blazing eyes roamed as if it were drunk. A black liquid dripped from its razor teeth and inky lines spread out from around its snout into its dark-brown bristle.

'You know what it is?' Caitlin asked Crowther.

'The boar was a totem animal of the Celts, something of incredible power,' Crowther said. 'In the myths, Twrch Trwyth was supposed to be an evil king transformed into this shape by God. It can't be killed.'

As the thing disappeared into the green depths, relief flooded them and they hurried on. Breaking out of the forest felt like being released from a terrible weight. They all came up hard at the sight of the river. It was much bigger than they had expected, at that point almost a quarter of a mile across, and majestic in the dying sun's crimson glow; a river of blood. It flowed slowly, the trees hard up against it on either bank.

The path ran alongside it for about twenty yards and ended at a roughly constructed jetty. Moored to it was a boat of breathtaking beauty, silver and gold, decorated with a mass of intricate carvings of fish, waves and birds. A graceful swan's neck formed the prow. It was the size of a cruiser, big enough for all of them.

'That is amazing,' Matt said in quiet admiration.

'It'll do,' Crowther said. 'Can we board it?' He glanced nervously over his shoulder in the direction of the forest. 'It is at your disposal,' Triathus said. 'Simply say what you would like it to do, and it will obey. Its name is Sunchaser.'

Mahalia traced her fingertips gently along the hull and then withdrew them in surprise. 'It feels like… skin — warm.'

Triathus led them on board. Below were cramped quarters and some meagre stores of water, bread and cured meat.

'Did you bury the bodies of your comrades?' Caitlin asked.

Triathus stared across the water towards the setting sun. 'There are no bodies. When my people die, they return to Existence.'

'I'm sorry for what happened to you,' Caitlin said.

'I think we should set off as soon as we can,' Jack interrupted. He had been watching the tree line. 'It's getting dark.'

He didn't need to say more. Triathus spoke a word that none of the others could understand, and which made their ears ache even though it was spoken quietly. In response, Sunchaser moved slowly and eerily away from the jetty and into the current. It swung around until it was facing upriver and then set off.

'That was a very brave thing you did, firing on that boar.' Matt silently joined Caitlin at the rail where she had been watching the trees.

'I've got something very important to do. Nothing's going to stand in the way.'

Her words were forceful, but Matt could see she was troubled. 'What's wrong?' he asked.

'I don't know… something about the boar. I just have a bad feeling about what lies ahead.'

Night fell quickly.