'Be ready,' said Jude, 'Sorrow’s got a plan.'

'How can you tell?' Five, squinted at the women circling each other in the centre of the Grove. It just looked like a fight to him.

'She’s grinning.' Jude spoke with such certainty that Five felt the confidence seep into him.

'May I have the weapon?' said Five.

'You think she’s going to need it?' Sgàthach was already holding out the pole attached to the box.

'I think her swords won’t last much longer.' Five passed the weapon to Number Six. 'I’m going to be busy and probably so will everyone else. Try to get this to Sorrow as soon as Number Four is distracted.'

'Here take this pole. A gift from Number Five,' said Six.

'She’ll know what it is,' said Sgàthach.

'You sure?' said Five.

'She’ll know or she’s not worthy to be a Raven,' said Sgàthach.

'Now,' said Jude, before Five had a chance to ask what Sgàthach meant.

Jude slashed at the air beside Five and pushed him.

Five staggered backwards and found himself on the other side of the grove. He felt the lip of the cauldron against the backs of his thighs. Directly in front of him was a narrow slit that hung in the air through which he could see Jude.

'Heads up,' said Jude.

The slit closed and Jude was replaced with Sorrow. Barrelling towards him, bleeding, on fire and carrying Number Two. She thrust Number Two into his arms, pushing both of them backwards and into the cauldron.

'Keep her in the cauldron with you,' she said. 'If I have to kill her again I’m going to make it stick.'

The stone walls of the cauldron cut off most of the sound from outside. The world had contracted to just the two of them and the circle of sky above.

Number Two trembled in his arms. Her breathing reduced to short, painful gasps.

Five pulled the broken blades from Two’s chest, apologising under his breath, knowing that she probably couldn’t hear him over her own sobs of pain.

Five let out a sigh and his breath rose as a cloud of black vapour. That had to be the poison leaving his body. He did feel invigorated. Then he felt a stab of pain as Two elbowed him in the ribs.

Five held her as tightly as he could and pinned her legs with his own. 'Didn’t you hear her?' he said.

'I’m going to kill him and if I have to kill her first, then so be it,' she said.

'You can kill him any time. There’s no rush,' said Five.

'Not if he’s expecting it,' said Two.

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'So apologise,' said Five. 'You know what he’s like. Make like he’s won you over and bide your time. And then you’ve got time to be sure you want to kill him. Cause like Sorrow said, I can’t prove who killed One or you. But we know Seven didn’t kill Three.'

'Really?' Two twisted in Five’s grip and he was suddenly very aware that she was still holding the broadsword. 'We know that for sure?'

'Yes,' it was the harsh voice of the raven. The bird was perched on the rim of the cauldron. It looked down its beak at them. 'Cause that was me. Strictly speaking it was me and a few hundred of my close personal friends. We was summoned and commanded by a woman who looked a lot like your friend there with the flaming spear. The guy in the Goddess’s lap? I didn’t see him until I was caught and interrogated.'

Two went limp. 'But why would she…' her voice tailed off.

'Cause we have it coming,' said Five. 'Me most of all but all of us. Dozens of times over.'

'I should have stayed dead,' said Two.

#

Sorrow ran for the pool. She had to do something to put the flames out before the pain made her do something inadvisable. She dived in and the cool water on her burning wings was a sudden, almost orgasmic relief. She let her momentum carry her deep into the pool. She wanted to stay. But if the Goddess got bored she might declare that Sorrow had forfeit the fight.

Sorrow surfaced and swam to the edge of the pool. Everyone’s attention seemed to be on the cauldron. Even Number Four was heading for it and not looking out for her.

Sorrow slipped out of the water unseen. No, almost unseen. She could feel someone’s eyes on her. She looked up at the throne, expecting that either Seven or the Morrigan would be looking her way but both were distracted by something. They too were staring at the cauldron.

She searched the tree line, looking for whoever it was that she could feel looking at her. What now? She was wounded, her wings were wrecked and her height advantage was meaningless because her opponent had a fucking spear. A flaming fucking spear.

If ever there was a time for a tactical retreat it would be now. That was the soldier thinking. Run now, come back and fight later. But running wasn’t an option. It wasn’t just her duty to protect Number Seven. She had no intention of abandoning One and Three to whatever postmortem torture Number Four could come up with. And Five might be a murderer but Britain had no death penalty so she wasn’t about to leave him to Four either.

Who was looking at her? There was definitely someone. Was it Six? She didn’t see him in the scrum round the cauldron.

Six slipped out of the shadow of a nearby tree as if he had been waiting for the most dramatic possible moment. He was holding a long metal pole with a metal box on one end. 'Compliments of Number Five,' he said as he held it out. 'And the big lass with the braids.'

He nodded back towards the watching group and a red headed woman in a raven feather cloak who glanced her way, nodded a greeting and then looked back towards the cauldron.

They sent me a box on a stick?' she said.

'It’s a weapon, apparently, the box is to keep the pointy end from causing trouble. There’s a trick to opening it.'

'Which is?'

'They didn’t say,' said Six.

'Yeah. It’s been that kind of day.' Sorrow grabbed the pole, put one foot on the box and tried to pull the weapon out with brute force alone. It did not budge.

'Open up,' she said. Nothing. 'Please?' The iron box unfolded like a flower greeting the sun and released the head of the weapon. It wasn’t a spear as she’d been expecting. It looked a little like a pitchfork and a lot like a trident but it had barbs, on its barbs, on its barbs and the word that leapt into her mind was harpoon.

In her mind's eye she could see the original use of the thing. All the oldest tales told of the sea of monsters. Of how, in the first days, the oceans were full of terrifying beasts. This was a weapon you might use against Leviathan and the Kraken. And then she knew its name, and she knew what it did. She felt sick. Her stomach lurched. Her hands shook as they gripped the pole. But she didn’t let go. Because there’s right and then there’s necessary and sometimes what’s necessary isn’t right.

Sorrow looked at Four, advancing on the cauldron with her flaming spear in hand. A terrible rage rose up to replace the nausea and drive her back onto the field of battle.

'Yield!' Sorrow screamed. Still clinging onto the idea that it might be possible to do the right thing as well as the necessary one.

#