Mark Chadbourn - Always Forever

Church watched Tom curiously. He had never heard him speak so tenderly, nor talk of any of the happy times in his human life before his transformation at the hands of the Tuatha De Danann Queen. It was as if he had wanted to keep them secure from the horrors that had assailed him since.

"Now I begin, for the first time in many years, the memories come thick and fast." Tom's eyes glistened in the sun. "Days of tenderness, composing songs and poems. Nights watching the stars over the Eildon Hills. My mother and father, at Christmas, leading the singing before the fire. My best friend James, playing hide-and-seek in the kitchens, then later courting the girls from the village together." He turned fully to Church with no attempt to hide his tears. "Remember your own bright moments, Jack, and hold them in your heart. They will keep you warm in the coldest nights."

"Why are you telling me these things?"

"Nothing I could say would help you to comprehend right now. You will understand everything presently."

Church tried to glean some insight from Tom's face, but he was taken aback to see it was packed with complex emotions. For so long, Tom had appeared to have no feeling in him at all; as inhuman as he always believed himself to be. It felt like a sea change had come over him, even in the last hour. "What's happened to you?"

"Time has come a-calling. Finally."

Church could see he was not going to get anything out of the Rhymer; infuriatingly, his friend's unexplained words worked their way deep into his mind, where they set off a troubling resonance.

While he wrestled with his thoughts, he scanned the deck where the crew busied themselves for departure. The main Tuatha De Danann force had all disappeared below with their weapons. Manannan stood at the wheel, overseeing the activity. He raised a hand in greeting when he saw Church.

"I hope you're telling him what a pathetic little runt he is." The Bone Inspector's gruff voice shattered the mood in an instant. He leaned on his staff, the wind whipping his grey hair.

Tom snapped, "No-"

"I was talking to him." The Bone Inspector nodded towards Church.

"Don't start with your useless prattling." Tom eyed him murderously.

"You may have been honoured by the Culture in the times of my ancestors, but that doesn't mean I can't give you a good whupping with my staff." The Bone Inspector underlined his point by twirling the staff around his arms as if it were alive.

"Great. Two old people fighting," Church muttered. "It'll be like watching your granny barge her way into the bread queue."

"Don't forget," Tom cautioned the Bone Inspector, "the Culture dies out with you." He smiled sadistically.

"Well, that's where you're wrong. I've been making some plans-"

"Don't you think that's a little premature?" Church said.

"You shut up and concentrate on your job, you lanky-arsed weasel." The Bone Inspector returned his attention to Tom, nodding superciliously. "Yes, I've been thinking. Now the seasons have turned and all the materialistic, logic-obsessed bastards have had a rude awakening, it might be time for a reflowering of the Culture. I can see the colleges now, maybe at Glastonbury and Anglesey, like we used to have in the old, old days. Passing on the wisdom to a new generation of bright-eyed-"

"You think you'd make a good teacher?" Tom sneered. "After all that time sleeping in ditches they'll need to hose you down with industrial cleaning fluid just to get somebody in a room with you."

The Bone Inspector scowled. "At least I know my arse from my elbow."

"Yes, but do you know your arse from your mouth? I think not."

Church sighed and made to pacify them, but they turned on him so venomously he backed away. "Okay, go ahead, knock yourself out," he said tartly. "Literally, if possible."

The bickering ended when Niamh walked over. Tom gave a restrained, deferential bow, but the Bone Inspector simply looked away, as if he were alone on deck and lost in a reverie.

"The Master is preparing to sail," she said. She glanced round to ensure she could not be overheard, then added quietly, "Taranis oversaw the arrival of a container brought aboard by Nuada's personal guard. It was stowed in a section of the hold where access is restricted only to the Master and Taranis. Those faithful to Nuada stand guard without."

"I think I saw it," Church said. "Was it a large wooden chest with bands of iron around it and a gold clasp?"

"That may be how you perceived it." Niamh looked from one to the other. "I believe it to be the Wish-Hex."

"They won't even let you near it?" Church asked.

She bit her lip. "I could attempt… It would cost…" She shook her head. "No matter. There is too much at stake."

Church looked to Tom. "When do you think they'll detonate it?"

"When it's close to Balor and they're well away."

"Not on board ship?"

"Good Lord, no!" Tom looked horrified. "And lose Wave Sweeper? This isn't just a collection of timber and nails, you know!"

Church took Niamh's hand and led her to one side. "I know this is hard for you, working against your own people, but if there's anything you can do-"

"Do not feel you have to ask anything of me, Jack. I do what I do freely because I believe in the rightness of this course. And I believe in you." She looked down at where her slim, cool hand still lay in his. "You have changed my existence, Jack. And to one of the Golden Ones, who are as constant as the stars, that is a humbling and profound thing."

"I don't see how I could have, Niamh," he protested. "I'm nothing out of the ordinary."

She leaned forward to kiss him gently on the cheek. "Things are coming to a head, Jack. All will be made clear soon."

Her smile was filled with such deep love he was left floundering. She turned and drifted away amongst the frantic activity of the crew, an oasis of calm and dignity.

The ship hove to soon after and made its way into the Estuary. Though it still remained a tranquil place, the strain on all who sailed was apparent. Tom rejoined Church at the prow, looking around nervously. "Now if we can get to that pep talk without any interruptions from that old curmudgeon…" He pointed to the makeshift rucksack hanging from Church's shoulder. "You have the Wayfinder?"

Church removed the old lantern with the flickering blue flame that had guided him through the earliest days of the mystery to show him. "But I don't know what use it's going to be. I was thinking of leaving it here. I don't want to be carrying any more weight than necessary."

Tom shook his head furiously. "There is still one talisman to find." His smile suggested this was another long-kept secret he was relieved to be revealing. "The biggest one of all."

"Where is it?"

"Somewhere near our destination. You recall when we summoned the Celtic dead for guidance in Scotland? They said: You must find the Luck of the Land if you are ever to unleash the true power of the people."

"Yes," Church said suspiciously, "and you said you had no idea what they were talking about."

"At that exact moment, I did not. But it came to me soon after. There was only one thing it could be."

Church bared his teeth. "And you didn't see fit to tell me until now?"

Tom shrugged dismissively. "The time was not right."

"Tom… "

"All right," he snapped. "I wanted only you to know. And I left it to this late stage because I did not want you to confide in any of the others, as you undoubtedly would have done with your various romantic liaisons," he added sniffily. "And then it would have been all over the place."

"All right. No need to act like my granddad."

"It is my role to be-"

"All right, all right! What is the bloody Luck of the Land?"

"The Luck of the Land is the severed head of Bran the Blessed. He was a great hero, and the closest of the Golden Ones to humanity. He knew about the destiny of the Fragile Creatures and he was even prepared to sacrifice himself to see us achieve it. The old stories tell how he was murdered by a poisoned arrow. On his deathbed, he told his followers to cut off his head, yet even removed, it could still eat and talk. It was brought back to London and buried beneath the Tower, where it became the source of the land's power. Of humanity's power. Another myth said King Arthur sought it out as the source of his own strength. You can see the symbolism."