Mark Chadbourn - Jack of Ravens

Ruth held her breath and thought that she might die. In the dark the presence hovered behind her, all around her. Any second it would attack, she knew, and then it would tear her soul apart.

She bit her lip and tasted blood, forcing herself to hold on. And then she glimpsed a firefly moving far away. After the intensity of the gloom, she thought it might be a hallucination. But it stayed, and drew closer, and she realised it wasn’t a firefly but a distant light. Hope flared in her heart.

Tentatively, she began to move towards it. She felt the malignant presence surrounding her fill with rage, rise up ready to strike, but she kept moving, focusing on the light ahead and not what lay at her back.

Her pace increased. She could scarcely believe it after so long amongst the horror and the dread; it felt as if she’d been there for a thousand years.

As she neared, she could see it was the light from a lantern, but it was blue. The malevolent presence made one final, futile effort to drag her back, but Ruth was moving too quickly now. All she could see was the light.

Briefly, she passed another presence, but this one filled her with the sense that everything would be all right. And then, without reaching the lantern, she was stumbling out of the wardrobe and into the light of her bedroom, blinking.

It took a moment to ground herself, but the dark presence in the wardrobe was already receding so fast she could barely recall it. There were voices coming from her lounge.

She peeked through the gap in the door and saw the back of a man with a knife who was clearly holding prisoner the two others who were there. A third, an elderly man, lay unconscious on the floor. Disoriented, she leaned against the wall, one hand over her face. What was going on?

The man with the knife was saying, ‘Don’t worry about Jack Churchill. He’s a prisoner in a gold and ivory casket in the middle of a forest way out there in Fairyland. You’ll never see him again.’

Ruth opened the bedroom door a little more. Shavi and Laura noticed the movement, and Ruth motioned to them not to draw attention to her.

Veitch agonised over what he had to do. Finally he jumped to his feet, holding the knife tightly. ‘I’ve got to do it, I’ve got to do it,’ he said to himself. He advanced on Shavi. The look in his eyes left no doubt that he was going to kill them.

Ruth crept into the room, unsure of what she could do. She was still dazed, but her heart was thundering fit to burst. Veitch drew back the knife. Shavi closed his eyes.

Ruth snatched up a metal box in which she kept her keys and phone. She stepped quickly forward and smashed it into the base of Veitch’s skull. He crumpled instantly.

‘You are Ruth!’ Shavi jumped to his feet. ‘He implied you were dead.’

‘Somebody needs to tell me what’s going on.’ Ruth was distracted by a flapping at the window. An owl was now sitting on the ledge, staring at her with its eerie eyes. Strangely, she felt comforted. ‘Why was that man trying to kill you? And what are you doing in my flat?’

‘Better sit down,’ Laura said. ‘It’s a trip and a half.’

Twilight was drawing in as they stood on the edge of Stonehenge. The English Heritage workers had long since gone home and they could proceed without fear of interruption. Ruth was still reeling from all she had been told, but somehow her life made a lot more sense than it had done previously. For the first time in a long while she felt positive, and excited, whatever dangers lay ahead.

Laura surveyed the megaliths rising up against the darkening sky. ‘So we dance like pixies and a magic doorway appears,’ she said sarcastically.

‘On the other hand I could just crack you on the head with my staff,’ the Bone Inspector said. ‘Now get a move on. Soon Veitch or one of those spider-people will be here and I don’t intend being around when they arrive.’

‘You are not coming with us?’ Shavi said.

‘My place is here, not over there. I’ve got a job to do.’

Shavi turned to Ruth. ‘Are you up to this?’

She glanced up at the owl flying overhead, and grinned. ‘Oh, yes.’

The journey across the Far Lands took longer than they anticipated, but as they passed through its mysteries and wonders it began to feel as though they were awakening from a long, dreamless sleep. Earth and its grey streets were a distant shadow. The Land of Always Summer was more real, and life there was lived fully.

They encountered many strange beings, were guided with a paternal curiosity by some of the Tuatha De Danann, overcame untold dangers and magics and eventually arrived at the dark heart of the Forest of the Night.

The casket stood lonely and unmourned, gleaming in a solitary shaft of sunlight that broke through the dense canopy.

‘Veitch said Church is being held prisoner in that,’ Laura said in hushed tones. ‘I hope they’ve been feeding him.’

‘I think he meant Church was being held magically,’ Shavi said.

‘How are we supposed to break the spell, then?’ Laura asked.

‘I think that’s down to me.’ Ruth gathered herself as her owl settled in the branches of a tree.

‘Why you?’ Laura eyed Ruth suspiciously.

‘I don’t know … instinct. I think we all have particular roles to play-’

‘Archetypal roles,’ Shavi interjected. ‘Seer, warrior, king …’ He looked to Ruth. ‘Are you ready?’

She flung open the casket lid. The spiders roiled in the depths.

Laura screwed up her face. ‘That is disgusting.’

Ruth was oblivious to the spiders. All she could see was Church’s face; it pulled her in and refused to let her go, speaking to some deeply buried part of her. It was distressing, for on the surface she did not know the man at all, yet in the well of her unconscious he was all she knew. The bonds that had been forged were unbreakable, tying them together for all time, however many miles or years lay between them. Now she knew why her recent life had been swathed in sorrow, why she felt as if she had been frozen in a living death, like Church.

Her heart swelled until it felt as if it was pressing against the prison of her skin. The sadness and the loneliness were part of the past. Now she could return to life.

Without thinking, she leaned in and kissed Church on the lips. There was a discharge of blue light and the spiders rushed from the casket. She heard their torrent hit the ground and the loud rustling as they fled into the undergrowth.

And still she kissed. His lips were cold at first, but gradually warmth came back to them, and they moved in union with hers. She broke away as his eyes flickered open.

He sat up and looked around. ‘How long have I been asleep?’

‘A while, but you’re awake now,’ she said softly.

‘I had the strangest dreams.’

His eyes locked on hers, and gradually realisation dawned in them. His smile was like the sun coming up. They embraced again, passionately this time, and for that moment no darkness could touch them.

It was the strangest reunion Church had every experienced. Though it felt as if they barely knew each other, a deeper part of them recognised the coming together of best friends, with bonds forged over time that were now unbreakable.

Shavi hugged Church warmly. ‘I do not understand it, but you feel like my brother.’

‘I am,’ Church replied. ‘We’re Brothers of Dragons. Apart, we’re just who we are. Together we’re something better. Or so I’m led to believe.’ Shavi nodded, smiling. ‘That sounds right.’

Laura threw herself at Church, embracing him with a tangle of arms and legs. She kissed him passionately on the lips. ‘I don’t feel as if you’re my brother,’ she said with a wink.