Jack of Ravens by Mark Chadbourn Read Free Book Online

Church felt as if he was lying next to a massive generator; the atmosphere was distorted, infused with such an overpowering dread that he felt he might go insane with the intensity of emotion. ‘Hold hard. You must see the dawn,’ the woman continued.
    And then she was gone in the blink of an eye, leaving Church unsure whether she had really been there.
    11
     
    ‘It comes.’ Conoran’s voice made Church start; he had been convinced he was alone.
    ‘What comes?’ Church said weakly.
    Conoran appeared in Church’s frame of vision. ‘You fight hard, Jack, Giantkiller. I was certain you would be dead before the dawn. But look, its first rays break. All is not lost.’
    Tannis and Owein freed Church from the stretcher and propped him up. A thin line of silver lay to the east. In the firelight, Church could see they were sitting on a grassy bank, looking down on a thick forest of gorse. Just visible beyond it was a circle of scrubby yellowing grass, worn by many a foot. Several ghosts stood inside the circle, immobile. It took Church a few seconds to realise they were standing stones, glowing spectrally in the first glimmer of light.
    ‘Boskawen-Un,’ Conoran said reverently. ‘We must get you into the circle before the sun comes up.’
    Tannis and Owein helped Church to his feet. His head spun and he couldn’t stand without their support.
    ‘What was hunting us?’ Church’s thready voice was almost lost to the breeze.
    ‘There will be time for that later.’ Conoran looked over his shoulder to the north. ‘If you survive what is to come, they will be waiting.’
    Other outlying stones became visible around the central circle as Tannis and Owein helped Church down the slope to a thin path through the protecting gorse.
    Once they were in the circle, Church was surprised to feel a potent atmosphere suck the tension from his limbs. It was the same sensation he felt whenever he held his sword.
    Conoran turned to face the golden sun now half-risen above the horizon and bowed his head. ‘For too long the days have been dark,’ he said. ‘Let it be so no longer.’
    ‘Look at him – a weak, straggly thing,’ Branwen said harshly of Church. ‘He does not have the strength to endure what lies ahead.’
    ‘He has more strength than you, or I, or any of us.’ Etain marched forward defiantly and kissed Church on the lips. When she pulled back, tears rimmed her eyes. ‘I would give you my life if it were enough,’ she said so only he could hear. ‘But only your own heart will suffice.’
    When she backed away, Conoran began to lead Church towards the circle’s westernmost stone, the only one made of white quartz.
    ‘I don’t think I can make it,’ Church said. The darkness was closing in around him again.
    ‘You will,’ Conoran said sharply. ‘This is no longer just about you. It is about the people of this land, and their survival into the long days to come.’
    ‘You are sure?’ Owein said. ‘This is what the gods spoke of.’
    ‘This is what the gods fear.’
    Conoran directed Tannis and Owein to haul Church to the white quartz stone, where they left him clinging on with the last of his strength. He felt as though the remnants of his life were trickling out of him, the trickle growing faster by the moment.
    ‘Ruth,’ he whispered into the returning delirium. ‘I love you.’
    Church’s world shrank to the ring of stones and the white quartz pillar, the whisper of the wind on the grass, the fragrance of the yellow gorse blossom.
    ‘You place too great a burden on him. It is not just.’ Etain’s sad, angry voice came from somewhere behind him, a world away.
    ‘Existence has placed the burden,’ Conoran replied, an anxious edge tohis voice. ‘Existence has chosen its vessel. All lies within this man’s grasp, if he can but rise to the challenge.’
    The words fanned a spark within Church. He gripped the quartz stone tighter and attempted to haul himself upright. He no longer knew where he was,