‘There are still places of magic,’ she said.
‘Of course there are. It will take more than a few generations of mankind to destroy it utterly. Have you seen Uzamatte?’
Her heart sank. ‘Yes. It is wonderful.’
‘Once the Wishing Tree woods were like that.’
‘There are people living around Uzamatte who feed the magic,’ she said. ‘They do not drain it.’
‘Ah, Caretha, if only all people were like you. One day soon the people on this side of the ocean will journey across the mighty sea. They will discover the wonders of the lands there and they will seek to settle them. This is not prophecy. This has happened on other worlds, whose histories mirror this one almost perfectly. The new settlers will arrive. They will begin to die. The people who dwell in that land will take pity on these poor travellers. They will bring them food. They will show them love. In return, as the centuries pass, that love will be repaid by murder and death and betrayal. These newcomers will spread, and they will, in a few hundred years, devour the magic that has taken a million years to create.
They will rip up the earth, and tear down the trees. They will create poisons to pollute the rivers. This is the human way, Caretha. Mankind is what it is. It does what it does. Mankind is a plague.’
‘Then why do you wish to return, Cernunnos?’
‘Why, to destroy man, of course. To eradicate him from the planet. I will help him to play his vile games, to develop his weapons, to perfect his murderous nature. Then the world can be at peace.’
‘You cannot destroy all of mankind through war,’ she said.
‘Oh, but you can. Man is capable – given time – of creating weapons that can obliterate nations. I shall merely increase the speed of such invention.’
‘Why do you tell me this, Cernunnos?’
‘Perhaps even a god does not like being misunderstood.’
‘I do not misunderstand you. You deceive yourself. You and the Seidh took a creature with enormous potential, and you began to mould it in your own image. You created man as he is. If we are a plague then we are a plague of your making. And I do not believe the Morrigu left here in despair at humans. I believe she left because, as you said, the Seidh could not create magic. They too devoured it. They too, therefore, were parasites. So spare me your specious reasons for becoming a part of the hatred that curses us. You are not a god, Cernunnos. You are just another sad, tormented creature consumed by rage and a need to justify your actions. The Rigante will stop you. And better than that, we will find a way to preserve our world and rebuild the magic. We will conquer our demons.’
Cernunnos laughed then, and there was no malice in the sound. ‘Spoken as I would expect by someone with my blood in her veins. Go then, Caretha. Seek out young Gaise Macon. In him you will find all that I have said to be true. Hatred consumes him. Even if he could defeat me – which he cannot – you would all lose eventually. The only way he can win is to become more vile than that which he faces. He knows this.’
‘I pray to the Source of All Things that you are wrong.’
Once again he laughed, and this time there was an edge of bitterness. ‘I too once prayed to that paralysed and senile force. No more. Fare thee well, kinswoman. Fight your valiant, losing battle.
If all were indeed like you there would be no need for what is to come.’
The light faded. The Wyrd struggled to her feet. Then despair, like a mountain upon her heart, overcame her and she sank back to the stone.
Once more a light formed. This time a sense of peace came with it, and with the peace tears flowed.
‘Did you hear?’ she asked.
‘Yes,’ said the voice of Riamfada, in her mind.
‘Everything he said had the resonance of truth, Riamfada. We have proved to be a plague upon the world.’