Page 126 of The Simurgh

Macha led them east, if the palace were fixed to the north. Silas had no true sense of direction, even less so once they lost sight of Crystal Palace beneath the deluge. He’d not lied about needing to see to the Sluagh, it was paramount the goddess’s potential vessel be destroyed…but could they have gone for the simurgh first?

Perhaps. It was just that, may the saints forgive him, Silas could not find it in himself to be sorry if their change of plans enabled Lucifer to take the simurgh far away…or destroy it altogether.

Pitch stumbled over something hidden in the mud and ever-rising water. The daemon loosed a string of threats against all and sundry as he limped a few steps but Silas squashed the instinct to lift him up, or even dare offer to carry him. Pitch had made it quite clear he wished to walk. Besides, there was nothing to be gained in drastic speed here –they were likely to run straight into a boulder or off a cliff, the rain made seeing more than a few feet ahead impossible.

Macha flew low, but Silas wondered if that were on purpose or simply because her feathers were so saturated she had no choice but to glide along barely a foot off the ground.

The sorcerer had no voice, not as she’d known in life, but she had found a way to communicate with him just the same. Sending flashes of images rather than words.

They were searching for a rocky hill.

The raven cawed and arched in a wide half-circle before them. Silas shaded his eyes, sensing their brief journey already at its end.

‘I think we are here already. Do you see anything?’

But the words barely left him and the answer appeared through the downpour. A craggy hill. A strange bump in an otherwise flat landscape. He glimpsed hint of the dark rock Macha had shown him in the vision. But with the way the water poured down its side he had little hope of making out the waterfall.

‘Tell me we don’t need to climb that?’

‘I’m not certain.’ Silas searched for Macha. ‘Where is she?’

‘You are the one who shares a bird brain, you tell me.’

A smirk tugged at Silas’s lip. He caught sight of a dark shape. The raven appeared to jettison from within the swell of rocky hillside.

‘There, she’s up there.’

‘Of course she’s up.’ The prince grumbled, but kept step with Silas nonetheless as they negotiated the climb.

The crags proved useful, there was an advantage to be had in a rockface that had natural footholds in its shape. The slope was gentle enough, the rocks not too slippery either, considering. But that did not stop Silas worrying about the state of Pitch’s feet.

‘I’m fairly sure you have enough worries, Silas,’ Pitch called out through the rain. ‘Without adding my feet to them. I’m thicker skinned than you may know.’

‘Oh, I know.’ Silas tried to find him in the rain, but that led to a misstep, a bruised shin, and a scolding.

After a relatively short climb, through sections of rock where water gushed like they were wading through rapids, another flash struck Silas. The image of a waterfall blinded him momentarily and he stumbled, striking his knee hard against jagged stone. For once he was grateful for the terrible visibility, for Pitch would not notice the fall. The prince was itching to cut the sorcerer’s raven from the sky. But Silas knew her true. And more a frightened child than dastardly opponent.

‘There’s a waterfall somewhere here,’ he called out, aiming his voice towards the hulking shape that flickered softly with flame.

‘The whole damned mountain is a waterfall, Silas. That is not helpful.’

He wasn’t wrong.

Silas peered up, squinting as the rain stung his eyes. He’d need more than a snippet of vision from the raven if they were to find this place. The water poured around them like a liquefied avalanche.

I need more, Macha.

The raven appeared out of the downpour, just off to his right, and she cawed, tilting her wing, and banking back the way she’d come. The vision of the waterfall returned to him, a small rocky pool lying at its base, the crags that formed it sodden with a beautiful green moss.

The raven disappeared, to the right and slightly overhead, arrowing straight into the hillside.

‘Over this way, follow me.’ Silas adjusted his course, picking his way through the uneven rocks, slipping a little in his eagerness. ‘Are you still with me, Pitch?’

‘I am, and I’m enjoying the view very much.’

His voice came from right behind. Silas glanced over his shoulder to find that the daemon was indeed nice and close, slightly lower on the slope than he was. The prince’s view, where it was not torrential rain, would be swinging coat tails with the occasional hint of trousered arse cheeks.

Silas’s laughter was utterly misplace in the circumstances, but he was always happy when Pitch was well enough,himselfenough, to play the fool.