Sophie looked back anxiously. ‘Will they keep coming?’
‘They will always keep coming. They will not rest until all the Golden Ones who have sided with Fragile Creatures are wiped from Existence. That is how deep the fault lines run. How can you condone the destruction of your own people and stay close to the essence of What Is?’ Ceridwen shook her head, consumed by disbelief. When she turned back to Sophie, her face had hardened. ‘We cannot stop,’ she said. ‘They will attack relentlessly, hiding beneath the dark of the moon or under the cover of clouds, to come in the night and slit our throats while we sleep. We must ride without rest. Are you ready for the challenge, Sister of Dragons?’
Though she was already exhausted and hollow with hunger, Sophie nodded. So much was at stake; she would not be the one who failed.
And so they rode, across the downs and into the night, and in the morning they swept across the plains in a light rain, their clothes plastered against their bodies. Through wooded valleys and by rocky foothills, they continued without rest until everything became like a dream to Sophie and she was convinced she was a girl once more, in bed, wishing herself to a land where anything was possible.
On the third day, a fortress city of white marble presented itself to them, gleaming in the sunrise. It rose up the foothills, so vast it seemed a hill itself, the upper reaches lost in the low clouds on the edge of the mountains behind. Sophie’s breath caught at the sight of the awe-inspiring assemblage of turrets and domes, obelisks, palaces, keeps and dwellings, all surrounded by a single monolithic wall. Along the ramparts, golden flags fluttered in a light breeze; majesty and wonder lay across the entire city.
‘Here it is, then,’ Ceridwen said. ‘The Court of Soul’s Ease.’
Great gates of gold and glass soaring up for six storeys above Sophie’s head swung open soundlessly as the two travellers approached. Once Ceridwen and Sophie were within the shelter of the walls, the gates closed with a musical chiming. All around, tall, thin, impossibly beautiful people went about their business, their skin touched by gold. As Ceridwen led the way up a winding sunlit street, the passers-by turned to smile, reserving much of their pleasant welcome for Sophie. Everywhere there was the peace of a lazy summer afternoon.
Ceridwen dismounted in a cobbled square beside a fountain of gold, glass and white marble, the shimmering water gushing twenty feet or more into the air. Beyond lay an opulent palace, the frontage ornately carved with beatific statues, all dominated by a stylistic sun motif high above the entrance.
As the gates had done before, the door swung open as Ceridwen and Sophie approached, and several guards rushed out. They wore armour that continued the white-and-gold theme, with the same solar motif prominent on the breastplate. Though their helmets threw most of their faces into shadow, their eyes glowed golden.
‘Your brother welcomes you,’ the captain of the guards said, kneeling and bowing his head. ‘He requests your presence in the Great Hall to inform you of the current state of the war and to hear news of the Court of the Final Word. Will you accompany us?’
‘Of course,’ Ceridwen replied. ‘It is a relief to be in a place of safety once more.’ She breathed the air, fragrant with the scent of clematis, and said softly, ‘Home.’
Sophie followed in awed silence until they arrived at an airy hall where sunlight streamed through glass skylights in the roof high overhead. A group of people had gathered in the centre near a large table on which lay what at first looked like a map, but as Sophie approached was more like a hologram, three-dimensional, moving, alive. The group talked and planned in quiet, thoughtful voices, overseen by a man who was clearly their leader.
His armour was white overlaid with the faintest gold filigree so that he glowed in the shaft of light in which he stood. At first he had his back to Sophie, but when he turned there was only a brief moment of transition before her breath was taken away by his handsome features. He looked to be in his early twenties, with dark eyes and long dark hair framing a face that was both strong and sensitive.
‘Greetings,’ he said to Ceridwen with a warm smile, before his eyes fell on Sophie. ‘And what is this? Another Sister of Dragons? My court is truly blessed.’
‘Yes, brother. This one is known as Sophie.’ Ceridwen turned to Sophie and added, ‘In the days of the tribes, the Fragile Creatures knew my brother as Lugh. At the second battle of Magh Tuireadh, he slew Balor, the one-eyed god of death, and saved the Fixed Lands from the rule of the dark and monstrous Fomorii.’
‘Hello,’ Sophie said, before mentally kicking herself for sounding so pathetic.
‘I stand alongside Fragile Creatures in the coming struggle,’ Lugh said. ‘It was not always so, but I have reclaimed the wisdom that departed me.’ He smiled at Ceridwen again. ‘With no small help from my sister.’
Sophie’s mind was racing. Standing amongst the gods, it felt as if she was at the heart of a massive electromagnetic field: her ears buzzed so much that it was difficult to concentrate; her skin tingled and her mouth felt as though it was filled with iron filings. But as she fought to stay on top of what was happening around her, one thing came through loud and clear.
‘Did you say another Sister of Dragons?’
*
The suite of rooms was grand by any definition and if Sophie had not known better she would have thought it belonged to Lugh. It was high up in the palace, with a balcony providing a breathtaking vista across the great wall to the sweeping plains beyond and, further still, to snow-topped mountains lying dreamily beneath a blue sky. One room led on to another, and another, and another, all with delicate tapestries lining the walls and furs scattered across the stone floors. The furniture was designed for maximum comfort, the sumptuous cushions and hanging drapes giving it the feel of some Arabian Nights tent.
Sophie found the woman on the balcony, her eyes closed as she let the sun play on her face. In her late twenties, she wore a long gown of a rich, dark green, but her hair was tied back with an elastic band, an odd mundane detail amidst the otherworldly ambience. She glanced over when Sophie stepped out into the warm air, and her attractive features carried the mark of a strong will, but also a deep sadness that looked as though it cut to the heart of her.
‘Is that how I used to look?’ she mused softly to herself. ‘So strong and full of power?’ The woman came over and took Sophie’s hand warmly. ‘You don’t have to tell me — you’re a Sister of Dragons. Are you here to have a go at me for letting the side down?’
‘I just turned up here by accident.’
‘There aren’t any accidents,’ the woman said. ‘Rule number one of the new age. I’d better introduce myself, then. Caitlin Shepherd. I used to be one of you.’
‘Sophie Tallent.’ Sophie went to shake Caitlin’s hand, then felt an overwhelming urge to hug her, two kindred spirits in a frightening land. After a moment, Sophie pulled back and said, ‘You used to be a Sister of Dragons?’
Caitlin stepped away and leaned over the marble rail to survey the swarming citadel below. ‘One of the great defenders of humanity. Our last, best hope. And I threw it all away to try to save my husband and son. For nothing. They died. The Blue Fire deserted me and I think I probably doomed the human race with that same decision.’
‘I don’t understand.’
‘I’m only really just getting my head around it myself,’ Caitlin said. ‘But the abridged version is this: the universe or whatever lies behind it — Existence, as the gods call it — has a lot of hidden rules and one of them is this: there need to be five Brothers and Sisters of Dragons at any one time. Numbers seem vital to the whole underlying plan. On the one hand you could see it as a spell, on the other an equation — all the principal elements have to be there to make it work.’ She gave a wan smile. ‘I’ve had a lot of time to think about this.’