But they had another problem. Only Tom knew how to use the talismans to summon the Tuatha De Danann and he was still under the control of the Caraprix. While Laura grew closer and closer to death, Tom still had enough free will to direct them to another fluid spot where they could cross over to the Far Lands, and there they met Ogma, keeper of wisdom, one of the few Golden Ones to escape the Wish-Hex. Using the medical lore he had learned from the god the Celts called Dian Cecht, he removed the Caraprix from Tom's head and cured Laura. Here the companions also learned of the Fomorii's true aim: to bring back Balor and thereby damn us all. Tom, too, had a revelation which shocked them alclass="underline" his real identity was Thomas Learmont, a thirteenth-century landowner who became known as that famous figure of Scottish mythology, Thomas the Rhymer, after he fell through into the land of Faerie and was given mystical powers by the Queen of Faerie herself, or so the old legends said. Only the reality had been much harsher than the myth. After finding himself in T'ir n'a n'Og, Thomas had been subjected to the torments and wonders of the Tuatha De Danann, a race so far beyond us they barely noticed the suffering they were inflicting. What is understood is that he was significantly changed by his ordeal, both psychologically and physically. He received the gift of prophecy and his long life was attributable to his repeated stays in that other world where time does not flow constantly.
There was a brief time for refreshment and revitalization which also allowed Church and Laura to consummate their long-simmering affection and then the companions returned for the summoning, which was to take place at Dunvegan Castle on the Isle of Skye.
By the strange warping of time which takes place in the Far Lands, they arrived back on the day of their deadline, the feast of Beltane. As they headed towards the Kyle of Lochalsh for the crossing to Skye, they passed what resembled a mediaeval battlefield, slick with blood where numerous soldiers had been butchered, obviously in final battle with the Fomorii. When they arrived at the Kyle of Lochalsh, the place was in flames, all the inhabitants dead. The Fomorii had massed just across the straits on the shores of Skye, an impenetrable barrier between the companions and Dunvegan.
The only option was to take a boat and attempt to sail around Skye to the castle on the northwest coast, but the waters were guarded by a ferocious sea serpent which could only be controlled by Shavi's shamanistic abilities; the effort, however, scarred his mind.
At Dunvegan, they left him in the boat while Ruth, Laura, and Tom went to summon the Tuatha De Danann. Church and Veitch were dispatched to another fluid place known as the Fairy Bridge to at least try to delay any Fomorii attack. None of the companions truly realized how devious the enemy were; they had sown the seeds of their plan long in advance. The Roisin Dubh given to Church by Marianne's spirit was Fomorii in origin; it was the Kiss of Frost, a subtle force which gradually corrupted the holder, and Marianne, his great love, had had her spirit imprisoned and tormented by the Fomorii and used by them to manipulate him. In a battle with Calatin, Church was slain, as had been foretold in the Watchtower.
But in this terrible new world, death was not the end. The others had succeeded in freeing the Tuatha De Danann who rushed to the bridge, driving the Fomorii away. The Cauldron of Dagda, the wondrous Grail, was brought to Church's lips and its tremendous power gave him back his life. Reborn into the world-I shy away from saying resurrected although I wonder in years to come how this event will be seen-Church was changed in a fundamental way; some essence of the Tuatha De Danann had been instilled in him by the contact with the Grail, but he also still bore the corruption of the Fomorii, the light and the dark fighting within him.
Then came the bitterest blow of all. Because of Church's own weakness in allowing the Fomorii corruption into his life, the Tuatha lle Danann refused to help. Worse, the companions discovered the ones they had counted on as saviours were as devious and amoral as the foe they faced. The Tuatha lle Danann revealed their own plans had been put into effect many years ago; the Brothers and Sisters of Dragons had been manipulated throughout their lives, secretly, from beyond the barrier. To bring the Pendragon Spirit to the fore in force enough for the companions to help the Tuatha lle Danann they all had to experience death. And so the Tuatha lle Danann had controlled an agent: to murder Marianne; to slay Shavi's boyfriend; to kill Laura's mother; and they manipulated Veitch into killing Ruth's uncle, which led to the death of her father. That their entire lives had been condemned at the whim of a higher power was a revelation of such abject heartlessness, it almost destroyed the five. The fact that they survived is a testament to their enduring spirit which gives me so much comfort and hope in these dark times.
And so the Tuatha De Danann were loose in the world, untrammeled by rules, free to torment and destroy creatures they considered less than nothing. And the companions, in their despair, feared they had helped bring about that which they had attempted to stop: the destruction of everything we had built here on Earth.
But life goes on, and hope always burns, and the companions, as we all know, did not give up. Forged by their experiences, they grew closer together, seeking strength in their very frail humanity.
Not even the radio announcement of martial law and the Government's tacit admission of impotence in the face of such unknown power could deter them. The Government, of course, had known all along what was happening; not exactly, I am sure, but certainly enough to convince them to stifle any media reports of the growing crisis. And so the people were left in the dark until the last, worst moment.
But I digress once again. This is not a story about politicians or soldiers, it is about everything that is good about the human soul. About hope, and faith, and a quest for meaning in a world floundering in darkness. Perhaps it will shine a light that illuminates the way ahead. New legends for a new age.
But now my eyes grow weak. Too much writing by flickering candle flame has taken its toll, and I dream of the time when we took for granted a burning lightbulb in every home. Yet there is much of the story still to telclass="underline" great battles, great loves, terror and wonder, intrigue and betrayal, sacrifice and death. But most of all, about what it means to be human.
James Watchman
Salisbury Cathedral
Year One NDA (New Dark Age)
A Prologue
May 2, 8 a.m.; above the English Channeclass="underline"
"Somebody must have some idea what's going on." Justin Fallow fiddled uncomfortably with the miniature spirit bottles on his tray as he watched the dismal expressions sported by the air stewardesses. It was amazing how little fluctuations in the smooth-running of life were more disturbing than the big shocks. Those looks were enough to tell him something fundamental had changed; he had never seen any of them without those perfectly balanced smiles of pearly teeth contained by glossy red lipstick.
"I wouldn't lose any sleep over it. Everything will be back to normal in a few days." Colin Irvine stared vacuously out of the window at the fluffy white clouds. The reflection showed a craggy face and hollow cheeks that seemed older than his years. The trip to Paris had been better than expected; the business side tied up quickly, then two days of good food and fine wine, and one brisk night at a brothel. His head still felt fuzzy from the overindulgence and he would be happier if Justin shut up at least once before the plane landed.
"Well, I wish I had your optimism." Fallow's public school accent was blurred by the alcohol and he was talking too loudly. He flicked back the fringe that kept falling over his eyes and snapped his chubby fingers to attract the attention of one of the stewardesses. "Over here, please. Another vodka."