Jack of Ravens(189)

The king and queen approached Church with their attendants.

‘Brother of Dragons,’ the king said. ‘So good to see you recovered from your previous predicament. Of course, we knew it was only a matter of time.’

‘Your legend grows by the day,’ the queen said lightly.

‘And these are your fellow Brothers and Sisters of Dragons?’ The king surveyed the others. Laura was fixated on a man with a hawk’s beak and the legs of a goat, while a woman with silver eyes and grey skin was examining Ruth’s long hair, much to Ruth’s discomfort. Church introduced the three of them.

‘You’re here at my request?’ Church asked the king.

‘This is where our quest led us, Brother of Dragons. The task you set us was not easy, for the prize did not want to be found. We had to listen quietly to the whisperings of Existence, follow the scents on the wind—’

‘Thank you. I’m in your debt. Where—?’

The queen brought a hand to her temple. Her brow furrowed. ‘Beware. The hunters have come.’

On the lip of the crater high above, five riders were silhouetted against the lights of the visitors’ centre. The spiders couldn’t enter the peculiar magical atmosphere of the site, but Veitch and his four followers had no problem; they had all been touched by the Pendragon Spirit and the Blue Fire held no fear for them.

Veitch fell into relief as he urged his horse down the winding path. The others followed.

Church turned to Ruth, Shavi and Laura. ‘We have to find some way to hold them off until I can do what I need to do.’

‘Go,’ Shavi said. ‘We will do what we can.’

The king pointed towards the tropical biome. Church ran for the entrance with the sound of the approaching horses in his ears.



13



Sparks flew from the iron-shod hoofs of the horses as they thundered from the path towards the biomes. Ruth was drawn to Veitch, whose dark eyes never left her face. Something crackled between them, but what it was she did not know; he scared her and intrigued her in equal measure.

She braced herself for a confrontation, but he continued past her, never breaking his stare, which, like her feelings, had a strange duality: accusing and yearning.

She heard two words as he passed: no quarter.

It was the second rider who almost brought her down, a once-beautiful woman, her face now half-scarred by burns; Church’s description hadn’t captured the true horror of Etain’s dead, menacing stare. Ruth threw herself out of the way at the last moment.

Not far away, Tannis, Owein and Branwen focused their attention on Shavi and Laura. The monstrous horses attacked with a terrifying ferocity. Laura threw herself into the dense vegetation with Shavi close behind. The riders moved along the network of paths to head them off.

Etain tried three more times to run Ruth down, but Ruth felt infused with energy and desperate to make up for all the time she had spent sleeping through her life. Etain remained cold and aloof, as efficient in her attack as a machine, but Ruth sensed some well-hidden part of her that was not that way.

As they continued their cat-and-mouse game, Etain successfully backed Ruth into a corner. As Etain rode her down, Ruth’s owl swooped from the sky and raked a chunk of dead flesh from the charred side of Etain’s face. Once Ruth had escaped, the owl retreated before Etain could strike.

Deciding on a change of tactics, Etain leaped from her mount and drew a rusty, bloodstained sword. As she advanced, Ruth realised what was hidden behind those dead eyes: jealousy.



14



The heat hit Church like a wall the moment he stepped through the door. In an instant he went from the cool of an English summer evening to the oppressive cauldron of a humid tropical night. High overhead the hexagons and pentagons of the biome roof were just visible through the thick canopy of lofty, flourishing trees. The sound of rushing water thundered all around from artificial waterfalls and streams pouring into languid green pools. Standpipes sprayed a mist of water at regular intervals to maintain the humidity.

His heart pounding, Church hurried along the twisting path amongst the dense tropical vegetation. He had no idea where he was going – the path branched, leading down to dead ends or rising high up along a rock wall. His clothes were already drenched with sweat.

He forced himself to calm down. Closing his eyes and letting his breathing become deep and regular, he allowed himself to feel. The Blue Fire called to him. He only had to let himself be drawn into its embrace.

When he opened his eyes, his perception had changed, yet though he searched along the path there were no blue lines of force. If there was no Blue Fire to guide him, how could he do what had to be done?

As he turned slowly, ducking down to examine the surface of the path, he caught a glimmer of blue deep in the undergrowth. Peering in, he saw a barely visible sapphire filigree, secret, only for those who really wanted to find it. His prize had been as well hidden as the king had said. Scuttling on his hands and knees, he followed the thin blue line into the vegetation.