Mark Chadbourn - Destroyer of Worlds

With as little obvious effort as possible, Church strained at his bonds.

The Libertarian smiled. 'I know what you're doing. I remember that quite clearly, as I remembered exactly where you would be this day when my agent brought down the darkness. I find I'm remembering more and more the closer we get to the point of transformation.' His lips quirked as if he was tasting something unpleasant. 'A small price to pay, I suppose, for being able to interact with you at these vital junctures.'

'But there are still a lot of variables, aren't there? Or you wouldn't be bothering with me. These x-factors… the little pushes and shoves I'm getting from the Oldest Things in the Land-'

'Forget about those deluded creatures,' the Libertarian snapped. 'Their days are numbered. As you are aware, we have already eradicated one of them. The rest will follow. You cannot understand the magnitude of what we have achieved. The Oldest Things in the Land! Playing their little games since your world was built out of shit and piss. Always a part of everything, always powerful, and now they are falling before us, one by one by one.' He stood up and bowed. 'Our brilliance, incarnate. I thank you!'

'What killed the part of you that cared?' Church asked, sickened.

'You think I am the villain of the piece. I am not. There are no villains in life, my young Jack Churchill. Nor any heroes. There are only people who want the things you want, and people who want the opposite. At the moment, you are caught up with your vision that people would be happier if they were completely free. That, in itself, is a trap. The choices, the striving… they only bring misery. No, better to be happy with your lot. To be content, and at peace. The Mundane Spell… the lack of meaning in everyday existence… surely that is a small price to pay for being content.'

'War, corruption, abuse, sickness-'

'All small prices when seen from the view of humanity as a whole. They do not affect everyone. Most people have steady lives.'

Church thought for a moment, then said, 'Don't you miss Sinatra?'

Pausing, the Libertarian appeared to be struggling to recall something just beyond his grasp. A shadow crossed his face.

' "Fly Me to the Moon"? How about your parents' faces, on a summer day, when you were a kid? Don't you miss Ruth?'

'No!' The Libertarian whirled, his features fixed with anger. 'I thought I had already strangled the life from her in Greece, that's how little I care!'

'Don't you miss the magic, Jack?' Church said quietly.

In a rage, the Libertarian threw the chair to one side with such force that it shattered into pieces. Hurling himself at Church murderously, he pushed his furious face so close that it filled Church's vision. When he spoke, each word had the stab of an assassin's knife. 'I know how much you love her. I know she is the prop that holds your fragile life together. And I know that she is the thing holding you back from reaching your destiny. Which is why I now have her.'

Church flinched as if he'd been hit.

'Do I miss Ruth? I'll show you. First I'm going to torture her till the pain blooms in her face and she can see no good in life. And then I'm going to murder her, slowly and agonisingly, and I'm going to dump her body somewhere you will never find it. No chance for mourning. No closure. Your ravens will peck away at her flesh, and then her bones will yellow, and crumble, and she will be gone, as if she never existed.'

Tears stung Church's eyes. 'I'm going to kill you.'

The Libertarian smiled. 'That's the spirit.'

When night fell across the Great Plain before the Court of the Soaring Spirit, the Enemy began its advance. Lost to the gloom, the first sign that Decebalus had of their movement was mounting vibrations in the ground, growing stronger, like the first tremors of an earthquake. The weather had worsened — something to do with the abilities of the remaining Riot-Beast, he guessed — and now torrential rain lashed their ranks and turned the ground around them to a sea of mud.

'They will try to overwhelm us by sheer numbers,' he said as he peered into the dark. 'I am surprised they did not try it before.'

'Perhaps they wisely fear your ultimate deterrent,' Lugh responded. Behind him the silent, unmoving ranks of Tuatha De Danaan warriors glowed a dull gold.

Decebalus eyed him askance. 'You know of that?'

'I am a master tactician, after all. It is what I would have done.'

'But would you have been prepared to use it?'

'Thankfully, I will never have to find out. That is now your burden, Brother of Dragons.'

As a low, mournful call rolled out across the great plain from somewhere in the vicinity of the city walls, Lugh started and looked around hopefully. 'My brother, one of the most powerful of the Tuatha De Danaan. Missing for so long. Is he joining the fray?' When he saw Decebalus's puzzled look, he added, 'In the time of the tribes, he was known as Cernunnos, but your kind have a great many names for him, as befits his status. The Green Man. Jack o' the Green. He walks in the beating heart of nature, and pulses with the lifeblood of Existence.'

'Of course I have heard of him,' Decebalus said. 'He has helped the Brothers and Sisters of Dragons many times. Though, I must say, he has never seemed quite like you Golden Ones.'

'My brother is like us, and is also greater than us. His influence straddles many Great Dominions, as befits one of the Oldest Things in the Land.'

'He is one of those strange creatures, and also one of you?'

'The Oldest Things in the Land are a higher force, and they draw to them those who can help shepherd the ways of Existence.'

'A force for good, then.'

'A force for a plan that transcends the concepts of good and evil that Fragile Creatures love to clutch to their breasts for comfort. The universe is not simple, Brother of Dragons, and its pattern is lost to all of us.'

The mournful howl rolled out again, but was subsumed by the rising tramp of thousands of feet and the pounding of the downpour.

Rain sluicing from his head, Decebalus said, 'Nearly here now.' Flickering lights could now be made out in the dark — the torches of the enemy — stretching as far as Decebalus could see in a horseshoe formation from foothill to foothill around the city. 'Closing in. Nowhere to run.'

'You are a strange being. You sound as if you are almost enjoying this desperate situation,' Lugh said.

'We only truly find out what it means to be Fragile Creatures when we are closest to death. Your men are ready for the assault?'

'Of course. This will be as glorious as the Second Battle of Magh Tuireadh, when I slew the great Fomorii god, Balor.'

'Then it is time to engage the Enemy.' Pulling his sodden cloak around him, Decebalus strode back to his own ranks where a bonfire hissed and crackled, and pitch-soaked torches struggled to stay alight in the storm. The Brothers and Sisters of Dragons sheltered patiently in the tents, looking out of the huge unfurled doors towards the Enemy. As Decebalus moved past them, nodding to the leader of each unit, he saw how alike their expressions were, all of them laced with fear, all trying to hide it, preparing themselves mentally for the battle, knowing that death was likely. Through it all, the Pendragon Spirit blazed in their eyes.

Next to the fire, where everyone could see him, he announced loudly, 'The time has come! We go now to meet the Enemy. Our job is to harry down the middle. We strike fast, retreat, regroup, strike again. We have speed and skill on our side. On your left flank will be the Tuatha De Danaan, well-drilled, relentless. They will find their line and hold it until they or the Enemy are gone. On your right flank will be the brute force we need to blow the Enemy asunder. The Asgardians have more power than sense-' a laugh ran through the group '-and we will use that, along with a few surprises to keep the Enemy on their toes.'