'So I'm a prisoner now,' he said bitterly, before joining their march, refusing to look at any of them.
The tunnel emerged at the back of a deep cave at the very edge of the foothills. They fought their way past a wall of wild rose obscuring the cave entrance and then picked a path through a sea of nettles and tangled brambles filling a small gully. Brilliant sunlight stunned them after the constant greyness of the Court of Soul's Ease. There was summer birdsong, and clouds of small flying insects buzzed back and forth in search of patches of shade. Velvety green grassland rolled gently, patchworked by lazy cloud shadows, reminding Caitlin of the South Downs and happier times. Behind them, the snow-capped peaks looked down impressively. Caitlin took in the whole vista, then said, 'This is just like the book I was reading to… reading to..The name choked in her throat.
'That's hardly surprising,' Crowther said sullenly. 'Nothing here is really how it appears.'
'That's life,' Matt said whimsically. 'Everything's a front and nobody is how they seem.'
'We're dull and stupid beings, trapped by the limitations of our senses,' the professor continued, ignoring him. 'The human brain continually reshapes the signals it receives, making everything more acceptable to our poor, weak minds. It's like a short-sighted man thinking the world is really blurred and indistinct.'
'So what's it really like?' Caitlin asked dreamily.
'The Eastern religions had it right.' Crowther rested on his staff, depression overcoming him as he came to terms with the fact that there was no escape for him. 'Reality, at least at this level, is shaped by will. The strongest wills create what lies around us. And not just here. We make this world, and we make our own world as well.'
'We make our world?' Matt laughed.
'Well, I wouldn't expect you to understand. Shallow thinkers always accept things as they see them. Don't you understand — nothing is ever how it appears. Everything is a metaphor! Everything a symbol! Realising that is all part of our journey to the next level.'
Crowther stalked away, leaving Caitlin and Matt to ponder his words. They marched as quickly as they could for the next hour in case any of Lugh's men were in pursuit. Once the foothills were behind them, the going was easy through meadows of thigh-high grass waving in the gentle breeze. Psychedelically coloured butterflies the size of Caitlin's hand fluttered lazily around them. The lowlands eased in gently, with copses suddenly breaking the tranquil scenery, the grass becoming shorter and greener. Then, as they came over a rise, they saw a thick, dark forest stretching out almost as far as the eye could see. It was oddly menacing, and they all stopped and surveyed it for a long moment. In the middle of the forest, the steely, mirrored glint of a river caught the sunshine. Caitlin brought them to a halt on the edge of a copse of ash, with the wood still some three miles away. 'Lugh told me where the House of Pain lay.' She waved towards the north. 'But I want to be sure there are no major obstacles in the way.' 'What are you going to do? Call the RAC?' Crowther sneered. He took off his hat and mopped the sweat from his brow. 'No,' Caitlin replied, 'you're going to find out for us — and any other information that might be of use.' 'Really. And how do you propose I do that?' Crowther slumped against the base of a tree. The others waited for Caitlin to reply, but instead her eyes rolled back eerily until only the whites were visible. 'Don't try to trick us.' It was Brigid's voice, punctuated by a cackling laugh. 'I wish she wouldn't do that,' Mahalia hissed. 'It's in your pocketssss…' Brigid said, teasing him. Crowther blanched. 'What are you talking about?' 'In your pocketssss.' Another cackle. 'The secret one, in the lining of your coat.' Crowther shook his head uncomfortably. 'The mask. We need the mask,' Caitlin/Brigid hissed. 'Go away.' Crowther looked spooked now. Matt pulled the professor to his feet. 'What are you hiding?' 'Get away from me!' Crowther brandished his staff, his fear plain to see. 'We needssss it,' Caitlin/Brigid keened. Crowther held his threatening pose for a moment and then sagged. From the voluminous depths of his overcoat, he pulled an object that glinted like sunlight. It was indeed a mask, but fashioned of the purest silver. The male face shaped on the front was perfect — the wide, empty eyes just the right distance apart, the nose straight and small, the lips full, the cheekbones beautiful — so much so that they all found it attractive. Yet its effect was even greater than that: the simple appearance was so powerful that it moved them to tears, sucking swelling emotions from places that had never been touched before.
'What is that?' Mahalia whispered in awe.
Jack made a strange sound in the depth of his throat. 'The Immaterius. The Mask of Maponus.'
'You know it?' Crowther said, surprised.
'I've heard whispers… in the Court of the Final Word.' Jack couldn't take his eyes off it. 'They say you can look into the very depths of Existence with it, understand the reasons behind everything, but it was tied into the mind of one of the gods… And when he went mad, something happened to the mask, too.'
'If you look through it in the right way you can see God,' Crowther said dully. 'And if you look in the wrong way you see hell — you go mad, like Maponus.'
'That was how you found me,' Caitlin said. 'You looked through that and saw me, and you came.'
Crowther nodded. His hands were shaking as he held the mask. 'You don't understand…' He attempted to put the mask away, but appeared unable. 'Every time I use it, it takes a part of me, a little sliver of my soul. It's killing me a bit at a time. That's the price I pay for getting its knowledge.'
'Do you think I care?' Caitlin said coldly. 'This is about more than you, or me, or any of us. It's about saving the human race — all those poor people dying for something that has nothing to do with them — and if sacrifices are needed, that's what we have to do.'
'I didn't sign up for that,' Crowther replied dully.
'No, you thought you were getting an easy ride to an easy life. Tough. You made the wrong choice. You were better off where you were.'
Crowther stared at her unwaveringly for a moment, seeing her with new eyes. 'I don't know whether you're quite hateful, or simply deluded,' he said eventually. 'Well, you can't make me.'
Caitlin's icy smile made him uneasy. 'Don't tempt me.' The sun was setting in a flame of deepest red when Crowther finally felt ready to use the mask. Odd, discomfiting shadows crept from the base of the sprawling forest and strange hungry bird-sounds echoed from its depths. The incarnadine glow gave a hellish tint to the mask's sheen as Crowther searched for a location for his ritual. He eventually settled on a spot near a sprawling rowan bush, its flowers emanating a sickly-sweet perfume.
While Caitlin and Matt helped Crowther to settle, the younger ones sat several yards away, watching the scene. 'You know all about this,' Mahalia said to Jack. 'Who's Maponus?'
'He's one of the Golden Ones,' Jack replied. 'They called him The Good Son and he had a special place amongst the gods. Really powerful, you know, but they all loved him, too. And then he became trapped on your… our… world and that drove him mad. Now the Golden Ones keep him locked up somewhere in the Court of the Final Word, trying to cure him. Even they don't dare let him loose. He could destroy everything — and probably would, given half the chance.'
'And this mask is really powerful?' Her eyes glimmered.
"Very powerful.' He gave her a sideways glance. 'Too powerful for you or I. Best not to get involved in things like that.' As Crowther sat cross-legged, Matt wandered off to the place fifty feet away from where he and Caitlin had decided to monitor the proceedings. Caitlin was about to follow him when Crowther spoke.
'Making sure you don't get too close, I see,' Crowther said savagely. 'The risks appear to be all on my shoulders.'
'You chose it,' Caitlin said. 'Do you know what you're doing?'