Always Forever (77 page)

As they progressed further into the eastern fringes of the capital, the mood
on Wave Sweeper darkened considerably. The pleasant sunshine was soon
blocked out by continually rolling black clouds whipped by the powerful winds
circulating the city. It brought the temperature down several degrees while
adding a permanent gloom to the cityscape. Vast swathes of southeast London
were burning, bringing huge clouds of smoke rolling across the river. Church
fastened a scarf across his mouth, but the foul smell of charred plastics and
rubber still stung his throat.

As he saw the city up close for the first time, Church thought of all the
people he knew who lived there, his old friends, like Dale, who had done so
much to try to lift his spirits in the dark weeks after Marianne's death. Had they
survived? Had they suffered? It was too depressing to consider, and he was
almost pleased when Tom grunted, "Not as bad as the Great Fire."

"Things always were better in the good old days, weren't they?"

The ship suddenly lurched dramatically to the starboard. Church gripped
the rail to avoid being thrown into the grey waters. A second later it was
swinging back the other way. "What's going on?" he shouted over the wild
activity that had erupted on deck. The crew struggled to restrain any item that
wasn't lashed down, while Manannan fought with the wheel to keep Wave
Sweeper steady.

Tom pointed into the water further upstream. A black, sinuous shape
stitched white surf into boiling water.

"Their guard dog," Tom said.

"Dogs," Church corrected. Two more serpentine shapes rolled in the waves.
Their attacks were throwing up so much backwash the ship was buffeted back
and forth. They were tiny compared to the monster that had attempted to sink
Wave Sweeper in Otherworld, but their speed and random, darting movements
made them equally dangerous.

The ship sloughed towards the north bank before executing a sharp turn
towards the south, rapid manoeuvres that no real-world craft would ever be able to
complete. Members of the crew sprawled across the desk, clutching for handholds.
Church and Tom were drenched by the eruptions of water as the serpents threw
themselves against the sides, either in an attempt to hole the ship or to turn it over.

A shadow fell across them. Church knew what it was before he looked up.
The serpent's head towered over them, the same terrifying features he had glimpsed in the sea off Skye: a flattened cobra head, yellowish eyes glowing with
an alien intelligence, strange whiskers like a catfish tufting from its mouth,
which contained several rows of lethal teeth.

It hovered for a second or two, during which time Church felt the faintest contact with an intelligence that fizzed in the back of his head. He knew what it was
going to do before the head darted down towards them, jaws prised wide. Church
rolled over and pulled the Sword from its scabbard, jabbing it upwards towards the
descending darkness. It impaled the head as if it were slipping through crude oil.
The serpent made a high-pitched mechanical whine as it thrashed madly. Church
felt an electric jolt in that deep connection the serpent had made with him. An
instant later it transformed into a searing scream. Caledfwlch's particular powers
ensured that death always resulted from the slightest injury it inflicted.

Church tried to retreat from the bond the serpent had made with him, but it
was locked in place. He felt its life force flare briefly, then dwindle down into a dark
tunnel before finally winking out. Its body slipped back into the water, lifeless.

The shock of feeling the beast's final moment left Church dazed and distressed. Tom shook him roughly to bring him round, but the sensations stayed
with him like a shadow in his subconscious.

Wave Sweeper continued to lurch from side to side. By then the Tuatha De
Danann forces had made it on to the deck with several silver weapons resembling harpoons plugged into grenade launchers. Three of them manhandled one
to the rail and launched it.

Lightning crackled out across the water. It headed towards the north bank,
and then made an unnatural dogleg to the right to strike one of the serpents as
it attempted to dive. The creature burst from the water, stinking foully as it
charred. A moment later, its shrivelled form drifted downstream.

The remaining serpent was retreating as the Tuatha De Danann struck. It
was eradicated just as quickly.

Tom saw Church eyeing the weapons cautiously. "Yes," he said. "They are
too powerful to be in hands that cannot be trusted."

Manannan forged on quickly along the centre of the channel. Church watched
the banks intently, but he could see no sign of any Fomorii threat. Yet the air of
incipient danger grew more and more intense until deep, rhythmic vibrations
began to run through Church's legs; it was accompanied by a distant noise,
almost too low to be heard beneath the wind. Something about it made his
stomach turn. "What is that?" he asked.

Tom stared into the water darkly. "The beating of Balor's heart." The wind
whipped at him.

Soon after the smoke and river fog closed in around the ship, limiting vision
to a few yards ahead. Manannan let Wave Sweeper drift slowly. The crew
remained silent, listening intently for any sound of attack.

Thoom. Thoora. Thoom. The beating had grown a little louder. Church felt it
in the pit of his stomach.

And then the obscuring mists parted and Church's blood ran cold. A black
tower soared up from the northern bank, its top lost in the clouds above. It rested
on the remnants of the Tower of London, the ancient fortress that symbolised the
defence of the nation, and was constructed like a termite nest from rubble, crushed
vehicles, plastics, household refuse, girders torn from other buildings and anything else that came to hand. Slowly Church looked up the structure as far as he
could see. Fires blazed at various points, some inside seen through ragged windows, some on the surface where the leftovers of the twenty-first century still
burned. It was a sinister mockery of the gleaming skyscrapers that rose out of the
City's financial district only yards away, another source of unbridled power.

As he watched, there was movement through the windows and a second
later winged Fomorii burst out in a massive swarm. They swooped up as one,
then hurtled down towards Wave Sweeper.

The Tuatha lle Danann were prepared. The harpoons that had made short
shrift of the serpents were hooked upwards and unleashed. Lightning crackled
across the sky, tearing holes in the Fomorii swarm before the harpoons were
drawn back, reloaded and fired again.

Some of the Fomorii made it through and engaged with the Tuatha De
Danann in fierce fighting across the deck. Church ran into the fray wielding
Caledfwlch. Wherever he went the Tuatha De Danann stepped aside deferentially. The Fomorii he encountered shrivelled in the air like dry autumn leaves
and fluttered into nothingness on the wet boards.

But the Fomorii were proving too numerous. Many of the Tuatha lle Danann
were driven over the rails into the river or carried off into the black tower to meet
an undoubtedly hideous fate. Others were torn apart as the winged menace
descended on them like raptors. Manannan kept the ship going at full speed,
steering it as far towards the south bank as he could without running aground.

A difficult course had to be navigated through the remains of the shattered
bridges-London, Southwark, Blackfriars and Waterloo-but eventually they
rounded a bend in the river and the swarms of Fomorii began to fall back.

Finally, the aerial assault ended. Church slumped against the mast,
exhausted. "I can't believe they've left us alone."

Tom, who had kept well out of the trouble, replied, "It is just a lull, a
regrouping. They will be back in force soon."

"Then we better get to where we're going quickly."

The parade of broken bridges continued apace: Westminster, Lambeth,
Vauxhall, Chelsea. But then the familiar site of the Battersea Park Peace Pagoda
loomed up out of the smoke, reminding Church of Sundays spent walking there
with Marianne. Finally the remains of Albert Bridge came into view, as misty as
the day when it all started for Church so many months before.

He felt a brief frisson as the images flooded into his mind: the figure washing
his head in the water, the first meeting with Ruth, the trip beneath the bridge and
his first encounter with one of the Fomorii before it murdered Maurice Gibbons.

"If I'd known then what I know now ..." he said.

"Be thankful you don't know what lies ahead," Tom said darkly.

As they prepared to drop anchor, Church headed below deck to find Niamh so
he could say goodbye to her; he felt he owed her that at least. He searched for
fifteen minutes with a number of Tuatha De Danann pointing him this way and
that. Eventually he saw her emerging from a cabin in an area set aside for the
Tuatha De Danann force. He called her name and was instantly surprised by
what he saw on her face: unmistakable shame. She attempted to walk away as if
she had not heard him, then thought better of it.

"What's wrong?" he asked, honestly concerned.

She forced a smile before leading him away from the door a few paces. "I
will be allowed to accompany the small group Nuada has placed in charge of the
Wish-Hex."

"To Balor? I don't think I like that. You'd be better off here."

"Why? Because you think I have not been in a dangerous situation before?"

"No, because I don't want you to get hurt." He shrugged, uncomfortable at
the open way she was watching him. "The others I don't care about-"

She placed a hand on his forearm to stop him. "That makes it all worthwhile, Jack. There is no need to say any more. But I must come, for the WishHex is now my responsibility, and your survival is my responsibility. If I am not
there, you may die."

"Maybe-"

"That is the way it is."

The door swung open on the cabin Niamh had just exited and one of
Nuada's lieutenants swaggered out. He cast a glance at Niamh, then moved
lazily towards the stairs.

Church looked from him into Niamh's face, but he couldn't find the words
to express the thoughts that were suddenly falling into place.

She saved him the trouble. "We all do what we can, Jack."

Deeply troubled at what he had forced upon her, Church made his way back to
the deck where Tom and the Bone Inspector were waiting for him. They would
be going ashore with a small group of Tuatha De Danann briefed by Nuada
before he'd left with Lugh and Veitch. Another group would remain to guard
the entrance to the tunnels so no Fomorii could come up behind them, while the
remainder would stay on board Wave Sweeper to take the fight back to the
enemy, as a distracting ploy more than anything.

"I want to know who's in charge," the Bone Inspector said. He patently
wasn't going to accept any answer that included the Tuatha lle llanann.

"The Brother of Dragons will lead the way," Taranis said in his usual aloof
manner. "However, the Golden Ones who will be accompanying you must be
free to follow their own hearts if the need arises."

Church knew what that meant-they must be free to sneak off to unleash
the Wish-Hex.

While they prepared for a boat to be lowered, no one noticed the dark figure slip
out from the place where he had been hiding for so long, living on the blood and
meat of rats and other foul creatures. Nor did they hear the faint splash as he
slipped into the cold water and swam quickly to the shore. Callow had bided his
time well and now things were working out better than he could have dreamed.

The area beneath the bridge gave Church an uncomfortable feeling. Despite the
fact that most of the span was missing, it was still uncommonly dark. An
unpleasant atmosphere set his nerves on edge.

The Tuatha lle Danann stood back to allow Church to search for an
opening. They gathered protectively around the large chest that he knew contained the Wish-Hex. Niamh was with them, pretending to be aloof from the
Fragile Creatures.

"I don't know how I'm going to find this," he said after five minutes wandering around the featureless area.

The Bone Inspector swore profusely. "Call yourself a leader of men?" He
marched past Church and rammed his staff against a stone set into the wall on
which the bridge's foundations were set. The ground fell away with a ghostly
silence. "After you," he said sarcastically.