‘What do you want of us?’ Britha asked, trying to mask the revulsion in her voice. As the creature swung to look at her, she had to resist the urge to shrink away from its gaze.
‘To help you, I think. The raiders are no friends of yours and they are certainly no friends of ours.’
‘You are hurt?’ Fachtna said.
‘I am old and weak,’ the creature replied.
‘Else you would have changed these people.’
The serpentine creature looked at Fachtna for a long time. Its eyes didn’t blink. The warrior held the strange gaze as best he could.
‘I am not as others of my kind you may have met,’ it finally said. Despite the creature’s disquieting appearance, Britha could not miss the loneliness in its voice.
‘You did not fall,’ Teardrop said finally. ‘Something about this cave protected you. You are not insane and corrupt like the others.’
The weight of the creature’s years was apparent as it shuffled to its chair and sat down. Despite the strangeness of its face, the sadness there was unmistakable.
‘You served the Muileartach,’ Teardrop added. The creature nodded its head. The gesture looked strange in something so inhuman.
‘When the madness broke through, I fled with my mother, who I served even as the rest of them were infected. We fled as far as we could, through the seas, but this is a small world.’
Teardrop walked to the wall of the chamber and reached up to run his hand over the rough crystalline growths.
‘The crystal protects you?’
‘Or hides me. I’ve never been sure which.’
Fachtna was following this exchange with a look of confusion.
‘What are you saying?’ he demanded. He did not like it that a cornerstone belief of his seemed to be under threat.
‘That this Naga is not your enemy,’ Teardrop said.
‘I am more than a weapon. I will not use your flesh or plant my warped children in you.’
Britha was still confused but relieved that this Naga creature did not seem to wish them ill, horrifying though it might look.
Fachtna muttered something about the Naga not having a chance to defile his flesh.
‘We have met other servants – they are starting to fall,’ said Teardrop.
‘We were not her servants. We were her, or rather their, children, just like you.’
‘You speak of the gods?’ Britha asked, confused.
‘I speak of your forebears,’ the creature told her. It turned back to Teardrop. ‘I hear them fight. I hear their song as they fall. My cave keeps me safe. So far.’
‘So the Muileartach has fallen?’ Teardrop asked, sounding worried.
The creature shook its head slowly. ‘No, you would have felt it. She sleeps.’
‘So what is Bress doing with my people?’ Britha asked.
‘Bress is a servant. I have heard his master at the ceremonies of the Corpse People from the west and the demon-ridden slaves that Bress keeps. I have heard this in my dreams. I have seen the Dark Man in their fires. He comes to give birth. The anti-birth. Instead of life there will be death and Ynys Prydein will become Ynys Annwn, the isle of the dead.’
‘Who is the Dark Man?’ Fachtna asked, his hatred gone now, drawn in by the Naga’s story.
‘The Corpse People of the west call him Crom Dhubh. He will kill a man, steal the secret of birth so all will be stillborn, and then the Muileartach will fall and from her poisoned womb will come Llwglyd Diddymder.’
‘What does that mean?’ Teardrop asked.
‘I only know the songs they sing to their servants, nothing more. I do not know this Crom Dhubh, but he is old and has power.’
‘Only one man must die for this to happen?’ Fachtna asked. The Naga’s head seemed to wrinkle. Britha guessed it was frowning or concentrating.
‘This is what is sung,’ it finally said.
Fachtna turned to Teardrop. ‘Have you heard this?’
‘I have not dared open myself. Even with what little I did today, I heard the murmur of madness in the background. It sounded like ten thousand voices all struck by the moon and wretched.’
‘You must beware his followers, the Corpse People. They eat the flesh of heroes, kings and those touched by the gods. They harvest their power.’ Britha noticed the meaningful look that the Naga gave Teardrop as if trying to convey something else.
Teardrop nodded as if he understood. ‘Where is the Muileartach?’ he asked.
‘You cannot go there. The very land itself will fight you.’
‘We have no choice,’ Britha said. ‘Bress has my people.’
‘Then they are not yours any more.’
‘There is no shame in dying even though it proves you right,’ she replied.
‘You will not die. Not at first anyway. Not in the flesh.’
‘You know we will go,’ Teardrop said. The creature gave this some thought.
‘I will ask Tangwen to guide you. Do not go down the coast but instead travel the length of the Grey Father. I will tell her to take you to the lands of the Atrebates to my friend Rin, their rhi. That will take you closer. Do not get Tangwen killed. Her people need her strength.’
For a moment nobody said anything.
‘Thank you,’ Teardrop finally said. Britha nodded in agreement. Fachtna was quiet.
‘I’m sorry,’ the warrior finally said.
‘It saddens me to say that I think your response is probably the wisest. When you meet one of my people, don’t hesitate. Kill them. All that they were would thank you for your kindness.’ There was so much sadness in its voice, but even so Britha was surprised to see the tear that rolled down Fachtna’s cheek. The creature turned its head towards her. ‘I wish I could have been your dragon.’ She had no words for him. ‘Instead all I am is a foolish old snake who pisses in a circle to hide from the bad folk.’
‘Do you come from the Brass City?’ the creature asked as they turned to leave. Teardrop looked back and shook his head. Fachtna looked confused. ‘You carry weapons of the many-edged ones.’ For a while neither of them answered.
‘We are from the Ubh Blaosc,’ Fachtna told him. ‘When you sing, sing of us.’
The seeds were flung into dark rough waters. They spiralled to the seabed to burrow and grow. Strange roots dug deep into the earth, drinking energy from its heat and travelling far to take metal from its flesh. Slowly it began to rise through the silted depths.
The captives were quiet now. Ettin had taught them the value of silence when their screams were not wanted. The smell of fear still sickened him though, and he could feel eyes full of hate staring at his back. The black curragh held steady in the choppy sea as he watched its head slowly grow out of the water.
They were not quiet when they saw it, when they realised what it was, what they were to become. Ettin laid about them with his whip, his latest victim begging him and cursing him to stop from his shoulder as he did so.
21. Now
They had been driving for a while but Beth was sure that she was still on the island. For one thing she couldn’t see them trying to smuggle her out past the roadblocks. They were clearly on a very rough road as she was getting kicked around in the boot of the car. She had struggled with the cuffs but they were solidly built and had been put on tightly. She still had her Balisong knife and her knuckledusters in her jacket – they hadn’t searched her before they dumped her into the boot.
The car came to a halt. She heard a gate creak open, and the car moved over what felt like soft ground. The car stopped again.
The bright light after the darkness of the boot made her squint. Markus was just a large backlit shadow reaching for her and dragging her out. Suppress the anger, she told herself. Wait for the right moment.