Mark Chadbourn - Destroyer of Worlds

Church saw the truth in their faces. 'You don't trust me,' he said. 'You know I'm fated to turn into the Libertarian and you think I'm going to sell you all out.'

'It's not that,' Mallory said unconvincingly. 'We just don't want to take any risks. The more of us we can get in there, the better chance we'll have.'

The sting of betrayal was evident in Church's face for a brief moment before he continued, 'Then we all choose the two teams. I'm going to the Fortress, so the other team needs a leader. Mallory?'

Mallory nodded. 'I've seen Stoke. After that the Grim Lands is the only place left to visit.'

'Ryan?' Ruth suggested. 'You told me the dead worship you as some kind of hero. Sounds like you could use that to our advantage. They should know where the Market is in their own home.'

'No,' Mallory said firmly. 'I don't need to be looking over my shoulder all the time in a place like that.'

'Fair enough,' Veitch replied. 'Your loss, mate.'

'I'll go.' Caitlin flashed a brief smile at Mallory. 'We make a good team. We trust each other. And two of us should be enough. Travel light, travel fast.' Mallory began to protest, but Caitlin silenced him. 'Don't try to protect me. I've got a goddess of death inside me, you goon.'

'Okay, that's a plan,' Hunter said. 'And it only leaves one question outstanding. How do they get to the Grim Lands?'

After a long moment of silence, Veitch said, 'The same way everybody else does. They die.'

The great council chamber in the Court of the Soaring Spirit was almost as large as the Colosseum, with marble pillars supporting a domed glass roof that brought shafts of morning sunlight onto the chamber floor. Bas-reliefs of events from the long history of the Tuatha De Danaan lined the walls, and high overhead Gothic carvings of strange beings echoed the works of the master medieval stonemasons. The building's enormous scale generated a reverential atmosphere, and even though it was almost full, barely a whisper ran around the tiered seating.

Caitlin stood on the floor of the chamber next to the Speaker's Wish-Post, turning over what Veitch had said. The chatter of her three personas had stilled for long periods since the Morrigan had joined with her, but she could always feel the goddess's brooding presence at the back of her head. The Morrigan was a being of contrasts: cold of will and hot of passion, death-dealing and life-affirming, but always dangerous; very, very dangerous.

Mallory entered the chamber with Lugh, Rhiannon and two other gods Caitlin didn't recognise. With each passing day, she found Mallory more impressive as he rose to the challenge of dealing with the responsibilities that had been thrust upon him. Yet she was troubled by the deep sadness that now suffused him. There appeared to be no cause for it, but it had gained such a powerful grip on him that it was almost as if he had decided that the best of his life now lay behind him, and only duty and sacrifice were ahead.

He was concerned about her too; it was visible in his face whenever they were together, and after their decision to travel to the Grim Lands it had become even more intense.

Mallory believed the Morrigan was a corruption that would eventually eat away the essence of the Caitlin he knew. How could she explain to him that she finally felt whole? With the Morrigan inside her, doubts faded like the morning mist. Her slowly creeping, black despair was now walled off. Her mind was clear and fresh, her thoughts sharp, and she fizzed with an energy and unshakable vision. It was almost like a drug. It was almost as if it was meant to be.

Mallory took her to one side. 'Church and the others are getting a briefing from Decebalus on the gods and the readiness of the Army of Dragons, but he'll be along if you need him.'

'I'm fine.'

'You're sure?' he pressed.

'As a Sister of Dragons, they'd listen to me, but you know they've got a deep-seated prejudice against Fragile Creatures. With the Morrigan inside me, though, I'm one of them — they have to listen. Doubly so, because they're scared of the Morrigan, and a Sister of Dragons and the Morrigan combined is just too much for them to contemplate.'

'If you can't win them over with rational argument, give them your spooky stare and terrify them into submission. Nice strategy.' He squeezed her hand. 'Good luck.'

As Mallory left, Hunter sauntered up, seemingly oblivious to the weight of the historic occasion. 'Still no sign of the last two courts,' he noted.

'So we're missing the Unseelie Court and the Court of the Final Word.'

'Yeah, I wouldn't hold my breath for that last one.'

'Oh.'

'We had a bit of a falling out.'

'That's never stopped them before,' Caitlin said, puzzled.

'They had a lot of big plans. But in the end they came to nothing.' Hunter smiled tightly.

Caitlin shrugged. 'Apparently the Unseelie Court hates everybody, and they've got a real grudge against the human race from hundreds of years ago.'

'So this is it — eighteen of the twenty Great Courts.' He looked around at the silent ranks glowing in the sun with a diffuse golden light. 'All the arrogant bastards hanging on the words of one Fragile Creature.' He surprised her with a kiss on the cheek. 'Knock 'em dead. Literally, if possible.'

Hunter joined Mallory, Lugh and Rhiannon on the edge of the floor and Caitlin immediately went to the Speaker's position.

'These are the End-Times,' she said in a strong, clear voice. 'You know it in your hearts. You can feel the ashes on the wind. And if you still doubt, you can look up into the sky and see the Burning Man looking back, ready to judge you. I know for a race like the Golden Ones it's easy to dismiss these signs. You have existed — and exerted your power — far beyond the time of Fragile Creatures, and all other beings in the Far Lands and the Fixed Lands. You have always believed this rule would continue for all time. Unshakable. Yet I know you understand the rules of Existence, and that you know the most important one, for the wiser ones amongst you have stated it many times — there is always something higher. What you now face is higher. And you have been expecting this time because it holds such a powerful place in your own stories and mythology: the time when the Devourer of All Things will return to end the days of gods and men, to wipe the board clean, and to set out its dark vision for a new age.'

As she looked around the audience, Caitlin experienced a startling moment of clarity. Once again she was the small-town doctor whose only aim in life was to heal the people who came to her. And here she was addressing a congregation of gods. She was so out of her depth it was laughable. Yet, astonishingly, they were heeding her every word.

The power of the Tuatha De Danaan was so great she could feel the throb of it in the air. Some of the lower ranks had the plasticky features of shop dummies, as though they had been freshly minted. But the oldest were barely human in shape at all; some she perceived only as balls of brilliant light, and amongst those, she knew, was the one the others spoke of in reverent tones as the Dagda.

'This is an historic meeting,' she continued. 'The first time the Great Courts have joined for a council since you left the four cities of your homeland. You're all suspicious of each other, I know that. But above all you recognise that this is about the survival of your race.'

Caitlin placed one hand on the Wish-Post. In the air above it, an image coalesced until everyone in the room felt as if they were standing amidst the scene they witnessed. There was the Enemy Fortress sprawling on a scale that took the breath away, the smell of rotting meat and burning, clouds of greasy smoke obscuring the sky, the constant beat of heavy machinery. Overhead, the Burning Man glowed through the billowing smoke. The image closed in on the shape until everyone could see the figures writhing within the conflagration.