Mark Chadbourn - Destroyer of Worlds

'You mean humanity is going to end up like them?' Ruth said. 'How depressing.'

'No, you'll be better, because you've got the Pendragon Spirit. You're Existence's new, refined model.'

A tremendous clamour drew them to a large tent filled with Aesir swigging from flagons of mead as they cheered and argued around a large oaken table where two men arm-wrestled, the veins on their foreheads standing out, faces like stone from the concentration, sinews bulging. Most were so drunk they could barely stand.

'They have been locked in struggle for two hours, neither of them gaining the slightest advantage.' Freyja appeared beside them, her potent sexuality making their heads spin.

One of the men was Thor, his wild mane of hair a fiery red, his eyes as grey as the skies over the northern wastes. The other was Chinese, his body just as strong, his features marred by a ragged scar that necessitated a patch over his left eye. He was bald with a long, black ponytail. A silver axe etched with red Chinese characters rested against the table next to Thor's hammer, Mjolnir.

'Lei-Gong.' Church recognised the figure from the assemblage of gods beneath the Forbidden Palace in Beijing.

'Stop now!' Freyja called. 'We have honoured guests. Brothers and Sisters of Dragons.'

Reluctantly, Thor and Lei-Gong broke their grip.

'This pretender lays claim to control of the storm and the lightning and the thunder,' Thor bellowed.

'You are the pretender,' Lei-Gong said.

'And so it begins.' Tom sighed.

'Do not heed those two,' Freyja said. 'They are both hot-headed. The rest of my brothers and sisters, and my cousins, have experienced a revelation during our brief time here-'

'A rude awakening,' Tom interjected.

'Do not diminish us, True Thomas. During all our time, we have — each family group — believed ourselves to be the pinnacle of Existence. To accept that we have equals is…' A shadow crossed her face. 'Crushing.'

'Tough,' Veitch said sardonically.

'Yet also liberating,' Freyja continued. 'I have found much in common with my cousins, and a greater understanding of our place within Existence. We all, ultimately, seek wisdom, do we not, and that is its own reward?'

'Will that make you any less manipulative?' Church asked.

Freyja smiled. 'It is the nature of all living things to have their own agenda. And to have their own flaws.' She gently took Tom's hand, and the others were all surprised to see him flinch. 'How I admire your ring, True Thomas. Andvarinaut. Why, is that not cursed to bring destruction to all who possess it?' Her smile felt like the wind across a frozen plain. She gave a slight, ironic bow, and left.

'What's going on with you two?' Church said. 'When you said Freyja gave you that ring to help us find what we were looking for, you didn't say it was cursed.'

'Though your arrogance tells you otherwise, I do not answer to you.'

'What's the curse? What have you done, Tom?'

A terrible, haunted quality sparked briefly in Tom's eyes, and then he almost ran from the tent and lost himself in the throng outside.

Entranced, Church, Veitch and Ruth moved amongst the camps of the tent city, each one with its own particular flavour, each wild and untamed.

They avoided the gaze of a snake-haired woman and were mesmerised for almost half an hour by the mercurial tongue of Hermes, speaking what at first appeared to be nonsense as he addressed a small crowd. More snakes slithered in streams from a black tent where Damballah watched them with burning eyes. Birds flocked around the beak-faced Tangata-Manu. Ishtar ignited barely controllable erotic desires as she attempted to summon the three of them to her tent, and the Shichi-Fuku-Jin travelled in a boat that floated a foot above the ground, offering Church good fortune for the coming battle.

Finally, they could take no more. In the midst of the gods, every sense was forced to operate at its most heightened, and they began to feel queasy from the power that radiated off each of the beings. Despite the status of the Brothers and Sisters of Dragons, the sense of threat from many quarters was palpable, and on more than one occasion they remained unsure about the virtue of having the gods at their backs.

Emerging from the bubble of glamour, it felt as if they had escaped into a quiet room where they could finally catch their breath.

In the shadow of the walls, Etain and the other Brothers and Sisters of Spiders waited on their mounts, dead, unblinking eyes fixed on Veitch.

'Look, I'll catch you later,' he said to Church and Ruth uncomfortably. 'I'm just… you know… going to say a quick word.' He went over to the group and, for the briefest moment, Etain's eyes snapped onto Church, and then Ruth.

'I don't trust her,' Church said.

'I thought she was an old girlfriend of yours,' Ruth said tartly. 'Oh, wait… and what about Niamh, psychotic bitch and arch-manipulator? A lack of trustworthiness seems to be the defining factor. You certainly know how to pick the rotten apples in every barrel.'

'I picked you, didn't I?'

'A brief lapse in your bad taste.'

Acutely aware of the time for their departure drawing closer, Church led the way back to the city gates. 'So, are things all right with us?' he asked hesitantly.

'This isn't the time to have that kind of conversation,' Ruth replied, before adding, 'We're fine.'

'What about Veitch?'

'It's complicated.'

'How?'

'He needs me. And I've got to help him, because we all need him.'

Church set his jaw.

'I know that's not what you want to hear,' Ruth continued. 'Church, I don't want anyone else but you in my life. But I meant what I said to you in Norway.'

'Is this where you give me the Casablanca talk?'

'We don't amount to anything compared to what's going on around us.'

'I disagree with you so profoundly I can barely put it into words. You and me, what we have, is the entire reason why we do what we do. It's a symbol-'

'Don't start intellectualising just to win your argument.'

'I can't help who I am, Ruth. I think deeply about everything. Including you and me… and Veitch. I know he's trying to win you over, and I'm not going to stand back and let it happen.'

Her eyes flashed and Church felt as if he was looking into a deep well of Blue Fire. 'Okay, let's get one thing straight,' she said. 'I am not a ball that bounces back and forth between you and Ryan. I am not here to be fought over. It is not my role to be "the girlfriend". You love your archetypes, but I'm not playing that one.'

'I didn't mean that-'

'Accept that I love you. Deeply. And then give me space to find my own path to where you want me to be.' She didn't wait for a reply, marching through the gates and up the winding, cobbled street towards the Palace of Glorious Light. In every word and every movement, he saw the strength and sensitivity that had first attracted him to her, undiminished.

She was right, he knew that. And he hated his own insecurity, but he was more afraid of losing her than anything else. He wanted to claim that he'd accepted the hero's role for the sake of humanity, and Existence, and all the good, decent reasons that the storybooks liked to claim. But it was for Ruth. Always Ruth. And while he could rise above that for most of the time and do the right thing, if he didn't have Ruth he was afraid of what he would do.

The depth of his feelings was not only the source of his strength, but also his greatest weakness, and in them he could hear the first seductive whispers of the Libertarian. Sickened and afraid, he hurried into the city.

The sun was at its height when Mallory slipped into the room in the most secluded part of the castle. In a mood of intense, brooding silence, Veitch, Laura, Shavi, Hunter and Caitlin waited. There were no windows, and the only light came from two small lanterns in opposite corners.