Marc Chadbourn - The Devil in green

'I have a sword,' he said.

'Your sword is built to despatch the threats of the Fixed Lands. This is a sword of my people. It has a power that transcends the space it holds. Three great swords were forged from the very stuff of Existence, so our stories tell us. Three swords that can cleave the very foundations of life. One is the Sword of Nuada Airgetiamh — that stands alone and will not be seen again until the Dragon-Brother returns. The second is lost, believed corrupted, a danger to all who wield it. This is the third, and it is linked to your land in a fundamental way. Keep it close. It will bring you light and warmth in the dark days ahead.'

'You're talking as if it's alive.'

'It is, in the way that all things are alive, from the stones of the field to the clouds of the sky.' She proffered the sword. Mallory hesitated before taking it, but when it slipped into his fingers it felt instantly comfortable. A tingling warmth spread through his palm into his arm. It felt as if the dragons on the handle were shifting to accommodate the unique musculature of his hand. 'It is called Llyrwyn.'

'It has a name?' Mallory said wryly.

'There is a reason it has a name, and that reason should be clear, if not now, then in good time.'

'Why are you giving me a sword?'

'I told you, there is a meaning to everything that happens. You are not here by chance. In the terms of your world, you may have arrived a little earlier or a little later, but you would always have come here, to this spot. For the sword.'

Mallory turned the blade over in his hand curiously. The faint blue glow wasn't a product of the moonlight at all — it truly was coming from the weapon. 'I don't understand.'

She moved her hand slowly to indicate the trees, the sky, the grass. 'Everything is alive, everything is linked. There is a mind behind it all. We cannot know it, nor begin to know it, but it shapes us all… Fragile Creatures, Golden Ones… We are all part of it. And it demands champions. In its wisdom, it has decreed they come from the ranks of Fragile Creatures… of your kind, Mallory. They fight for the very essence of Existence, for Truth and Life. They are known in the Fixed Lands… in your world… as Brothers and Sisters of Dragons. At any time, five are chosen, though they may never be called to fight the enemies of Existence.'

Mallory didn't like the way the conversation was going. 'What are you saying?'

'The five who held that role throughout the troubles that devastated your land are broken, Mallory. Gone… to time long gone, to the Grey Lands, to different roles where the need for them is greater. A new five must arise.'

He shook his head as if his own denial would prevent what she was saying from being true.

'You are the first, Mallory.'

'That's ridiculous. It's so ridiculous it's laughable. Me, a champion?'

The concept was absurd in so many different ways he couldn't begin to tell her.

'There is a need for you, Mallory. A great need. And you will be ready for it, though there may be more forging necessary. Existence does not choose its champions unwisely. You are a Brother of Dragons.'

'A Brother of Dragons,' he repeated with a disbelieving laugh. 'OK, I'll bite. For now.'

She gave him a scabbard, which he fastened to his belt, and then she motioned for him to follow her again. Mallory's mind was racing. He'd just about accepted that he was nowhere on earth, that he was in a place that had slipped into folklore as Fairyland and that the woman with him was of a race that simpler people had come to call fairies. But where he really was, and what she truly was, escaped him. What made him uneasy was the realisation that since the Fall the world was not simply at the mercy of isolated supernatural predators that looked as if they'd wandered in from Grimm's Fairy Tales. There were other powers, perhaps higher powers, that had some interest in humanity; mankind was no longer in control of its own future.

As they moved back through the trees towards the Court, he put his tumbling thoughts to one side and said, 'Why are you helping me?'

'You were brought to me, and I never turn away a creature in need.' She appeared to consider this for a while before adding, 'My people have always had a relationship with your kind, sometimes friends, sometimes enemies, but always there.'

An owl broke through the branches and circled her until she held out an arm for it to land. Her skin remained unscathed under its claws. She leaned towards it, apparently listening, as it made a series of strange sounds deep in its throat. 'There is food and drink on the table if you wish to refresh yourself,' she said as it took flight.

On the way back to the Court, Mallory thought he could sense a deep sadness underneath her calm, as if she had lost someone or something very dear to her. He found he had warmed to her with remarkable speed; she appeared uncomplicated and uncorrupted by cynicism.

In the Court, they walked for ten minutes along corridors where the only sound was the soft tread of their feet. Eventually, they entered a large hall with a beamed ceiling and luxuriant tapestries hanging on the stone walls. Food and drink were laid out on the table — silver dishes and platters containing seafood, spiced meats, breads and fruit, and decanters of a deep red wine — but there was no sign of any servants.

'Not many people here,' he said.

'The Court of Peaceful Days is filled with life, but my subjects know I prefer silence to follow at my heels.' She gestured for Mallory to sit. 'Everything in my Court is given freely and without obligation.'

'Subjects?' You're the queen?' Mallory suddenly realised how hungry he was. He didn't know how long he had been out, but after the days of cathedral rations his stomach yearned for sophisticated food. He tore into the ham and bread, washing them down with a goblet full of red wine.

She took the seat at the head of the table but didn't touch the food, seemingly content to watch Mallory enjoy himself. 'That is my responsibility.'

'The queen of all Fairyland.'

She laughed silently at his name for the land. 'There are many Courts in the Far Lands, and each has its own queen or king, its own hierarchy, its rules and regulations, petty rivalries and intrigues, loves and vendettas.'

Once he had taken the edge off his hunger, Mallory sat back and looked at her in the light of the latest information. 'When everything went pear- shaped a while back, everyone was talking about gods carrying out miracles all over the place. That was your people?'

She nodded slowly. 'We were worshipped when your race was in its infancy. The tribes called us the Tuatha De Danann. We are known to ourselves, in your tongue, as the Golden Ones.'

'Why did everything change?'

She gestured dismissively as if it were a minor question. 'The seasons turned. It was time once again for an age of wonder, of magic. We returned to the land we knew, and that many of us loved.'

Mallory selected a sharp silver knife and began to quarter an apple. 'Your kind were supposed to be everywhere during the troubles, but since then there's hardly been any sign of you.'

'My people have detached themselves from Fragile Creatures once again. After the rigours of the Great Battle, when suffering and hardship were felt on all sides, the decision was taken to withdraw amongst ourselves, to concentrate on our own affairs. But we can no more leave Fragile Creatures alone than your kind, good Mallory, can leave the Golden Ones alone. Isolationism never works. We are all bound. We must find ways to exist together.'

Mallory poured himself another glass of wine. The velvety warmth of it was spreading through his limbs. 'I wouldn't hold your breath. My own people can't get on together.'

She stared introspectively into the warm shadows in the corner of the room. 'We are all bound, Mallory. Freedom to act independently is an illusion. Obligations and responsibilities tie our hands, as do love and friendship. And good men can no more turn their backs on need than cowards can face danger.'