As the steam cleared, they were presented with a train like none they had ever seen or dreamed. Aspects reminded them of the Victorian royal coach, but there were echoes of an Egyptian funeral barge, with its curlicues and hawk-headed statues; of a Viking ship, with sleek lines and raven motifs; of a Chinese emperor’s carriage; and of entirely alien modes of transport: wings and cupolas, scales and spikes. The body of the vehicle was an unreflecting sable, but the inlay and detail were silver.
All was silent. Ruth, Shavi and Laura strained to see into the darkened interior, but then candles flared into life along every carriage. Monstrous shapes were caught in the flickering half-light.
Slowly, a door swung open to reveal leather seats, brass fittings and an inordinate amount of foliage.
‘They don’t really think we’re going to step in there,’ Laura said.
A grinding came from the front of the train, followed by another hiss of steam. It was preparing to depart.
‘Is it a trap?’ Shavi asked. ‘Or should we board?’
Ruth gripped her spear, unsure.
As the door began to close just as slowly as it had opened, Ruth, Laura and Shavi were propelled into the carriage, and a heavy weight fell on top of them. The door closed behind them with a click and the train began to move off.
‘Get off me, you big, fat lump.’ Laura threw off the weight and saw it was Church. ‘And where’ve you been?’
‘Somewhere near and far away. With Puck.’ He helped Ruth to her feet.
She glanced at Laura. ‘See. Bit of faith.’
Laura snorted.
‘Friends,’ Shavi said, looking down the corridor, ‘we are not alone.’
The carriage was empty apart from a solemn figure. Long, pristine black robes shrouded a skeletal body, and the face, too, was skull-like, with just a few wisps of hair clinging to the desiccated skin that barely covered the bone. The eyes were heavy-lidded and the whites had a sickly yellow tinge. Ruth wrinkled her nose at the graveyard odour coming off him.
‘Welcome,’ he said in a crackling voice, ‘to the Last Train.’
‘That doesn’t sound very good,’ Ruth said.
‘It’s just a name,’ Church replied.
The attendant’s mouth broke into an enigmatic yellow-toothed smile. ‘You may call me Ahken. I am master of this conveyance. All here is given freely and without obligation. Ask of me what you will.’
‘Slight problem — no tickets,’ Laura said. ‘You going to throw us off at the next stop?’
Ahken took Laura’s hand and turned it over. She shuddered at his touch: his bony fingers felt like dry wood. He pointed to the mark of Cernunnos. ‘That will provide passage for all your group, to the end of the line.’
‘What would have happened if that wasn’t there?’ Laura asked.
Ahken continued to smile, but his expression had changed ever so slightly and Laura wished she hadn’t asked the question.
‘I think we’re supposed to be here. Isn’t that right?’ Church asked Ahken.
‘You are here. You are alive,’ Ahken replied, as if that should be answer enough. ‘You may go anywhere within this train, except for the last carriage.’
‘What’s in there?’ Ruth asked.
Ahken’s smile faded, but he didn’t answer. ‘There are some here who are waiting to see you.’
‘How could they know we’d be boarding?’ Church asked. ‘We didn’t even know ourselves.’
‘Your presence has always been expected on the Last Train.’
Laura cursed loudly. ‘This is like trying to hold a conversation in an old people’s home. Let’s just find a seat and chill for a bit. I’ve had enough running around.’
‘We need to know where we are going,’ Shavi cautioned.
‘Who cares as long as it’s away from that hell-hole?’ Laura replied.
‘Shavi’s right. Where’s the end of the line?’ Through the window, Church caught glimpses of distant flashes of light in the darkness that suggested they were no longer in the tunnel.
‘The end of the line is far away in time and space,’ Ahken said, ‘but you will alight at the place where you need to be. And who knows, you may find your way back to the Last Train again, perhaps even for that final journey.’
‘Okay, that’s it. Conversation over,’ Laura said. ‘He’s now reached maximum on the creepometer.’
Ahken bowed deeply. With a sickening twinge, Ruth thought she caught sight of things wriggling beneath his robe. ‘I will take my leave,’ he said. ‘Should you require anything of me, please pull the gold cord at the end of the carriage.’
‘Don’t hold your breath,’ Laura said under hers.
As he passed by them to the front of the train, an odour of loam and cleansing fluids followed in his wake.
‘Looks like we’re out of London,’ Ruth said, ‘but we can’t keep running. Sooner or later we’ve got to get off the back foot.’
‘That’s the last thing the Army of the Ten Billion Spiders wants,’ Church said. ‘They’re going to do anything they can to keep us off-balance.’
‘We can take comfort from the knowledge that the Enemy considers us a sufficient threat to divert resources to destroy us,’ Shavi noted.
‘Oh yeah, lots of comfort,’ Laura replied. ‘They’re aiming the big guns at us and Shavi wants to celebrate.’ She gave Shavi’s ear a painful but playful tweak, then eyed the end of the carriage. ‘You reckon we can get a drink on here?’
‘We ought to find out who wants to see us,’ Church said.
As Ruth opened the door at the rear of the carriage, she felt a surge of vertigo. A small walkway constrained by low iron rails led to a short gap over which they would have to step to reach the walkway leading into the next carriage. An oppressive smell of iron hung in the air, and the wind buffeted them so wildly that it felt as if they were moving at five hundred miles per hour. The darkness on either side was so dense it was impossible to tell if they were in a tunnel or on a vast, night-blanketed plain.
The next carriage was a sensory rush of wild, fiddle-driven music and strange voices raised in song, of cloying, sweet incense and a mass of dancing bodies that were as colourful as they were inhuman: cloven hoofs and serpent tails, horns and wings and glowing eyes. Amongst them, achingly beautiful golden-skinned beings danced with a liquid grace that complemented their physical forms.
‘The Seelie Court,’ Church whispered in Ruth’s ear. ‘What are they doing here?’ Church edged through the dancers, who recognised him and parted out of respect. The queen of the court smiled sweetly at Church, but in her eyes was a honeyed desire that Ruth had recognised at their last encounter in Cornwall. She felt a twinge of jealousy. Church was oblivious and that annoyed her even more.
‘Brother of Dragons.’ The queen allowed Church to kiss her hand. ‘We meet again in these troubled times.’
‘Your Highness. This is a surprise.’
‘A pleasant one, I hope?’ The king had a supercilious air, but clearly respected Church.
‘You’ve been a great help to us. We won’t forget that,’ Church replied.
The queen’s gaze fell briefly on Ruth, and then moved on to Shavi and Laura without even registering Ruth’s presence. ‘Sit with us awhile,’ she said. ‘There is much to discuss. Like you, we are dispossessed, forced to flee this land we love. The Devourer of All Things and its vast, unyielding army drive us out like rats, harrying and slaughtering those who fall behind. We, and all those like us, are being purged to make this a world without hope.’
‘A new order has come,’ the king added. ‘The Devourer of All Things is building itself a body, and when it is complete, its legions will rule all that is, and has been, and evermore shall be.’
Courtiers cleared a space so Church, Ruth, Laura and Shavi could sit on the leather seats.
‘What’s changed since the last time we spoke?’ Church asked.
‘Why, you have, Brother of Dragons. The Quincunx has all but come together,’ the king noted. ‘Did you think the Devourer of All Things would sit idly by and watch while you organise a rebellion against its rule?’