Free Always Forever by Mark Chadbourn

needed if the day was to be won. He bowed politely. `Jack Churchill, Brother
of Dragons. I am honoured to be in your presence." Ruth echoed his words.
    Manannan nodded without taking his stern regard off them. "I welcome you
to Wave Sweeper." His voice sounded like the surf breaking on a stony beach.
    "It is auspicious that the Master greets you at the beginning of your
journey," Cormorel said. "Who knows? Perhaps it bodes well for you achieving
your stated aims."
    "Which are what, Brother of Dragons?" Manannan showed slight curiosity.
    "To travel to the Western Isles to cleanse myself of the corruption of the
Night Walkers," Church began, "and then to beseech the Golden Ones for aid
in driving the Night Walkers from the Fixed Lands."
    Manannan was plainly intrigued by the suggestion. "Then I wish you well,
Brother of Dragons, for that is an honourable aim." Manannan's attention
crawled over them uncomfortably for a moment longer before Cormorel ushered
them away.

    Church and Ruth were gripped with the overwhelming strangeness of their
situation, but they were distracted from discussing it by a tall, thin figure
looming ahead of them. It appeared to be comprised of black rugs fluttering in
the breeze beneath a tattered wide-brimmed hat. In the shadows that obscured
the face, Church saw eyes gleaming like hot coals. It stretched out an arm
towards Ruth, revealing a bony hand covered with papery white skin. "Watch
your step," the figure said in a whispery voice like the wind over dry leaves.
"There are things here that would drain your lifeblood-"
    Before the dark figure could continue, Cormorel stepped between it and
Ruth, brushing the arm aside. With one hand in the small of Ruth's back, Cormorel steered her away.
    "What was it?" Ruth looked back, but the presence had already melted
away amongst the busy crew. She felt as if a shadow lay across her, although the
effect diminished within seconds of leaving the figure behind.
    "The Walpurgis," Cormorel replied coldly.
    "Yes, but what was it?"
    "A memory of the world's darkest night. A disease of life. An unfortunate
by-product of the Master's policy of admitting all comers is that occasionally we
must play host to ... unpleasant travellers." He eyed Ruth suspiciously. "You
would do well to avoid the Walpurgis at all costs," he warned.
    "Did you hear me calling?" Church asked when they stood in the shadow of the mast.
    "We hear all who speak of us." Cormorel had sloughed off the mood that
had gripped him after the encounter with the Walpurgis and his eyes were
sparkling once again. "A muttered word, an unguarded aside-they shout out
to us across the void." He surveyed them both as if he were weighing his
thoughts, and then decided to speak. "You did not call the ship, the ship called
you-as it did everyone who travels on board, myself included. Wave Sweeper
offers up to us our destiny, revealed here in signs and whispers, symbols that
crackle across the void. It is a great honour. For many who travel on Wave
Sweeper, the journey is the destination."
    The concept wasn't something Church wished to consider; he yearned for
the old days of cause and effect, linear time, space that could be measured; when
everything made sense.
    Irritated by the salty sea breeze, Ruth took an elastic band from her pocket
and fastened her hair back. It made her fine features even more fragile, and beautiful. "You don't mind us coming?"
    "We accept all travellers on Wave Sweeper. They are a source of constant
amusement to us."

    "That's nice," Ruth said sourly. She looked out to the hazy horizon, aware of
the shortening time. "How long will it take?"
    Cormorel laughed at the ridiculousness of the question. "We will pass
through the Far Lands, Sister of Dragons."
    "We have to be back before Samhain. A long time before." She fixed him
with a stare that would brook no dissent.
    "You will be in place to face your destiny." There was something in Cormorel's smile that