Page 127 of The Simurgh

When he refocused on the path ahead Macha’s raven was there. Perched on rocks slightly above their path.

‘This is it.’

A pull-up was necessary to negotiate the rise. Once he was on the flatter section above he turned to offer his hand to Pitch. The daemon did not need assistance, they both knew that. Pitch took his hand and let Silas pull him up without a single word of indignation. They kept close, shading their eyes to try and make out this place they’d arrived at. The harsh pummelling of the rain was giving Silas a headache. But there was the pool he’d seen, and in reality it was far more beautiful. The water was crystal clear, though its surface was chaotic with the rainfall, and the rock beneath the water was covered in a glowing algae that made the pool’s astonishing depths frighteningly evident.

Pitch touched his hand. ‘What now?’

Silas hoped against hope the answer was not a dive. ‘I’m not–’

The raven burst from the calamity of water at the far end of the pool, and an image of the waterfall flashed once more in Silas’s mind. There was no rain in the vision, so he could see very clearly the narrow path that made its way around the small pool, and in behind the waterfall’s flow.

‘This way.’

Silas led them along the path, mindful of the fathomless depths to one side, and the possibility that there was an equally worrying drop to the other. He could see nothing much at all but a few paces ahead of him. Pitch held onto the back of Silas’s coat, reassuringly close.

The churning magnificence of the waterfall appeared out of the gloom, a high rock ledge that was at least double Silas’s height, the spray turning to a fine mist as it struck the pool. Its roar was lost in the maelstrom of all the rain. The path disappeared into a frothing curtain of water. One capable of snapping their necks if they rushed through. The ring hummed around his finger, and a shiver of trepidation took hold of Silas.

‘This is it, but the waterflow is substantial–’

‘Allow me, Mr Mercer.’

Pitch sent twin blasts of flame at the violent flow. He shaped an archway of fire in the liquid, creating an enormous steam cloud, and a way through.

‘I was going to use the scythe to protect us,’ Silas said, somewhat ungratefully. He rubbed at the ring, discomforted by its vibrations. He was wondering if perhaps he should have Pitch wait here.

‘Of course you were, my good man.’ Pitch looked ethereal, surrounded by the swirl of steam. ‘And you can wipe that consternation from your face. I’m not waiting here.’

Silas might have been more astonished at being read so well, were it not for the hairs on the back of his neck prickling, and his stomach tightening. He turned to the opening. The air that came from within was stale. And something fouler.

Silas stepped through the firey archway, the heat blistering for a short moment, until he broke through into the gloom of the cave that lay beyond.

A weight, far worse than that of the rain, made Silas stagger. The burden of grief mingling with anger and debilitating regret was breathtaking. The terror and loss had him reaching blindly for anything to keep him upright.

‘I have you.’ Pitch slipped beneath his arm. ‘Silas, can you hear me?’

‘Yes, yes,’ he coughed. ‘This is it.’

A glance around showed him no sign of the altar he’d seen in the teratism’s shared vision. This was but an empty cave, small and not much higher than Silas was tall. But the Sluagh was here, there was no denying that. All the grief he’d shed to bring down the Herlequin was filling him up again, soaking into his pores, making him leaden.

The raven squawked, and the tip of a sodden feather brushed his cheek. A blast of fire chased Macha away. Pitch stepped around him, a look of such ferocity upon his face that Silas fought through the Sluagh’s destitution to reach him.

‘Don’t harm her, we need her.’

‘Yes, roasting on a spit, preferably.’ But the daemon let the flames subdue to points of light beneath his fingernails. Enough light still to illuminate the walls around them. There was sigils carved into the rock face. ‘She’ll have no second chances with me, Silas. Not where you are concerned.’

The raven settled on one of many outcrops of quartz, all as milky white as her eyes.

‘We need to move on, a bit further.’ Silas winced, touching at his temple. ‘They know I’m here. She knows…’

‘Who?’

‘I…the goddess…’ His own goddess’s sister.

Macha’s raven tilted its head, turning one milky eye to the darkness at the back of the cave. She cawed, just once.

‘There.’ Silas raised a shaking finger. ‘We need to keep going.’

‘Silas, this feels like a terrible idea. This place is…I don’t like the way it feels.’