Bran shuffles up beside me a few seconds later, stares at my damp cheeks, touches them with a finger, then tastes it. “Stony,” he declares mysteriously, then lays his head on my shoulder, closes his eyes, smiles and goes to sleep.

Some hours later, having finished another game of chess, Drust packs the pieces and board away, sets his bag down and rises. “Bec,” he summons me. I gently move Bran’s head and go see what the druid wants.

“It’s time,” Drust says, looking down at me solemnly.

“For what?” I frown.

“I’ve been waiting for the tide,” he answers cryptically. “The level is correct now. But it won’t remain that way for long. We must hurry.”

“I don’t understand. What…?” I stop. Drust is taking off his robes. Soon he’s naked. I’ve seen many naked men—a lot of warriors fight the old way, stripped bare—but Drust looks different in the flesh. His nudity is unsettling, as if I’m seeing an aspect of him I shouldn’t.

“Hey!” Goll grunts, getting up. “What are you—”

“Stay back,” Drust says, eyes flashing. “Bec and I must go for a while. But we’ll return shortly.”

“Go where?” Fiachna asks. He’s standing beside Goll now, as is Lorcan. Connla watches us with mild interest, lying on his back. Bran still sleeps.

Drust nods towards the edge of the cliff. “Old Creatures reside beneath our feet. They are maybe the only true beings of Old Magic left in the world. They can tell us where to find the tunnel between this world and the Demonata’s. Now stay back and keep quiet—this is a delicate business and we need to concentrate.”

Drust faces me again. “Remove your clothes,” he says, and though I feel uneasy, I do as he commands. “We’re going to walk to the edge of the cliff, then step off. Before that, we’ll cast two spells. One will let us hold our breath for several minutes. The other will keep us warm—the water’s extremely cold.”

“But… the fall… I can’t swim… the rocks…” I stammer.

“You have nothing to fear,” Drust says. He takes hold of my right hand. “I’ll be with you. I’ll guide you. As long as you cast the spells correctly and don’t panic, you’ll be fine.”

“But how will we get back up?”

“Climb,” he says, then laughs at my incredulous expression. “It’s easier than it sounds. Trust me. You’re no good to me dead. I’ll not see you come to harm.”

“You left me for the demons tonight,” I mutter.

“Aye,” he agrees. “But I thought I’d perish if I went back for you. It was better that one of us survive than none at all. But I need you, Bec. If you’d died, I’d have had to search for another apprentice.”

“Why?” I ask. “Why am I so important to you?”

“You’ll find out soon,” Drust promises, then turns to face the edge of the cliff. “Will you do this with me? Take my word that the future of your land and people rests upon it?”

I don’t want to. But we’ve come too far, faced too many dangers, and lost too many friends to stop now. I start walking, Drust beside me. We mutter spells, warming ourselves, holding our breath and extending it. Behind us the others watch—except Bran—unsure of what to expect.

We reach the edge. The waves are rough below, smashing into the rocks of the cliff, tearing themselves to pieces along the length of the Jutland. It looks like the mouth into the Otherworld. Only a fool could stare down and not feel fear. And only someone far beyond ordinary foolishness would even think for a moment of leaping into that roaring, forbidding abyss.

I look up quickly at Drust, starting to unlock the breathing spell, to tell him I’ve changed my mind, this is madness, I’m not going to do it. But before I can, Drust hops forward. His fingers are tight around mine. He drags me after him. I fall. The land disappears behind me. I plummet into darkness… violent roaring… into terror and certain death.

The fall doesn’t last as long as I thought it would. A couple of seconds, surely no longer. Then the collision. Our feet hit hard. We shoot underwater. My teeth shake in my jaw, threatening to snap loose and burst up into my brain. Even with the warming spell, the water is colder than anything I’ve experienced.

Dark down here, much darker than the night world above. We slow. Water presses tight around me. I feel the swell of the waves. Inside my head I see myself being smashed against the rocks. I start to panic, to kick defensively against the rocks—which must be close—breaking for the surface so I can scream.

Drust’s fingers squeeze mine. Pain forces me to ignore the cold and dark. I try to wrench my hand free but Drust squeezes again. Then a light flares and his face is next to mine. His eyes are furious, warning me to stop struggling, to obey his commands.

I go limp and Drust relaxes his grip. The light is coming from his right hand, flames glowing dully despite being underwater. That’s a spell I don’t know. I wonder if I could do it. While I’m wondering, Drust looks around, then moves slowly through the water. He’s not swimming exactly, although his legs kick out softly behind him and his right arm sways to the left and right, guiding us.

A shoal of fish glides by, either not seeing us or unworried by our presence. I watch them swish past, amazed, taking a moment to reflect on the strange twists my life has taken, the marvels I’ve become part of. So easy to take it for granted, but this is something no normal human was made to see. The world of magic has blessed me with wonders and it’s only right to stop every now and then to appreciate them.

Then—rock. The cliff, studded with shells, draped with seaweed, jagged and immense. Drust is heading straight for it. Coming up fast. He angles downwards. It looks like we’re going to hit the rock and be torn to shreds, but at the last moment I spot a hole—the entrance to a tunnel.

We’re swept through the mouth of the tunnel. I’m not sure if magic propels us or the thrust of the tide. We pass along smoothly, protected from the walls by the water and Drust’s spell. The light in Drust’s hand fades, plunging us into total darkness. For a while there’s just the rush and noise of the water. I don’t feel afraid. It’s oddly comforting. It reminds me of when I was born, entering the world through the tunnel from my mother’s womb.

Then there’s a glow ahead of us. Seconds later we’re out, shot into a pool of comparatively warm water. We float to the surface, where Drust pushes me on to land and crawls out after me. He touches my lips and nods. I stop the breathing spell and draw in a lungful of fresh air, shivering from the chill of the water.

Drust stands and offers me his hand. Clutching it, I let him draw me to my feet. He smiles at me when I’m standing, then places a hand on my left shoulder. Heat flares within me and I dry quickly. Drust releases me and looks up. I follow his gaze and gasp.

We’re in the middle of a huge cave. I can’t see the roof, it’s so far above us. All around are thick stone pillars… twenty… thirty… more. And on each pillar—something.

I can’t think of any other word to describe them. Slowly shifting shapes of coloured light, taller than ten men stacked one on top of the other, the colours changing as their shapes twist and swirl, casting a dim light which illuminates the massive cave. There’s magic in these shapes, strong magic, but unlike any I’ve felt before. No… that’s not true. I have felt it a couple of times. In the ring of stones when the demons were repelled. And earlier tonight when Lorcan’s axe melted.

“What are they?” I whisper.

“Old Creatures,” Drust whispers back. He’s smiling strangely, gazing at the lights as a child might regard a new toy. “The magicians of the ancient past. The creators of land, life, maybe even the gods. Some say they came from the stars. Others that they are the stars, or at least their worldly forms.”

He walks forward, then around in a slow circle, studying each pillar and shape. Most of the pillars boast scores of old etchings, but not like those found on ogham stones. These are long, complicated signs. If they represent words, the language must be much more complicated than ours.