Angel Fall (29 page)

The shriek came again, this time even louder. It was answered from below with a wave of fearful groans. Tori shivered.
Are they coming?

“They’re getting ready to gush out. Now, I want you to close your eyes and don’t open them until I tell you. Is that clear?”

Yes.

“Do it now.”

She closed them.

“Remember no matter what you hear or feel they can’t hurt you.”

I’m going to feel something?

“Maybe a little bit of cold when they pass by.”

You didn’t say I was gonna feel anything.

From below came an eerie flapping, as though a million bats had awakened. The Caller screamed again and the flapping grew louder.

“Okay, they’re coming. Get ready.”

A moment later the shaft was swollen with a reeking presence, and flapping air pounded in Tori’s ears. Then something cold brushed across her face, icy strands slithering, creeping. She gulped and almost gagged; close by, a woman sobbed as though her heart would break. Desperately Tori tried to keep her eyes shut, but she just couldn’t. She had to see who was crying that way.

She opened them.

The dim glow of the Larggen’s bodies illuminated a river of shadows. Around her swirled thousands of ghostly shapes streaking upward. Heads, faces, arms, hair, things that had once been people, but now were phantoms. And it was impossible to tell whether they were men or women, old or young. Behind them and around them trailed streams of dusty filth like flapping shrouds. Suddenly one of the faces lurched within an inch of her own. Its eyes were blind and dead and its mouth hung open. Out of it came a stinking hiss. Tori couldn’t help it. It was too terrifying.

She screamed!

And not with her mind, with her mouth.

The response was instantaneous. The phantoms began shrieking and swarming around her. Their breath filled her nose. Their fingers brushed her skin. Over and over they screeched, “A child, a child, where is the child?”

Tori screamed again and the phantoms grew thicker.

Mirick yelled in her mind,
Tori, stop it! Stop screaming! You’re making it worse. Close your eyes!

They were already closed, but it didn’t help. Out of her came choking sobs. And the phantoms kept swarming, their freezing fingers reaching, stroking, caressing.

Mirick yelled, “They can’t hurt you! Nothing can hurt you! We’ll be out of here in a minute. Hang on!”

It was unbearable! Now the voices were calling names, children’s names. Desperate parents overcome with despair, crying out for their lost ones. Another moment and Tori knew she would go insane. Then the scream of the Caller drowned out every other sound, and they were out of the shaft.

For a moment more the shrieking continued. Then it faded as the ghosts streaked off into the sky.

“They’re gone.” The moth breathed a sigh of relief.

Still sobbing, Tori opened her eyes. High above hung the crimson moon. Below yawned the blackness of the shaft. Extending away from it in every direction was a rolling crater, a vast wasteland of dirt and rocks that went on for miles, and the walls of the gigantic caldera were scarred with jagged cliffs.

“Go north! We’ve got to get out of here,” Mirick yelled to the Larggen.

“I’m sorry, I’m so sorry. I just couldn’t help it.” Tori struggled to control her tears.

“It’s all right. It was a terrifying place, and you were very brave. What’s done is done. Let’s just pray that their shrieking wasn’t heard.”

With a roar of wings the insects flew toward the crater wall. They were almost to the top when Mirick said, “Too late.”

“What?” Then Tori stared in horror.

Shadows were rising on the cliffs. Drifting shapes that suddenly took form. Above them appeared thousands of black horses and riders in a line that stretched for miles along the rim. The insects slowed and hovered, and Mirick spoke quietly to them. “Brothers, we can’t escape. You know what to do. Brave friends, be faithful.” Then he whispered to Tori, “They’re going to capture us. But I will stay with you no matter what. Just remember to talk to me only with your mind.”

The Larggen flew upward until they reached the summit of a cliff and flew forward. Instantly they were surrounded by the horsemen. With great gentleness the insects lowered Tori to the ground and released her. As she struggled to her feet, she saw how the Larggen chose to die—each picked a rider, then with all their strength, they attacked. With five terrible flashes, the insects dropped to the ground, their bodies and wings on fire. For a moment they writhed…and then they were gone.

In tears, Mirick whispered, “My brave warriors, I salute you. I swear that your lives were not given in vain. May you find peace in the heart of the Great Mountain.”

But there was no more time for words. The horses and riders parted, and in front of Tori appeared a stallion. Smoke swirled around his body, and on his back sat a figure wrapped in darkness—only his face was visible.

Towering over her in the moonlight…was Alex.

A
lex!”

Tori stared up into her brother’s face. Icy waves of hate almost knocked her down. A darkness like a universe without stars filled his eyes, and out of them drifted wisps of black mist. She had seen that mist before. It was the mist that had oozed from the frame on Bellwind’s wall, the mist that had crawled across the room and drawn her away to die. Now it covered her brother’s body like a shroud.

“Alex?” This time she spoke his name in a whisper.

Then she heard Mirick’s voice in her mind.
He’s there, but he can’t hear you. Lammortan is squatting in his brain like a toad in a teacup.

A strange look came to her face. Walking over, she stared up at the Thing that was Alex and said, “You’re like a toad in a teacup. My brother doesn’t belong to you. Get out of him!”

With a roar, it kicked her in the mouth. She fell to the ground, bleeding. Then it shrieked, gagging out screeches about toads and teacups until spittle ran down. Finally it screamed, “Take the little witch so I can kill her slowly!”

One of the riders jerked Tori up by her hair, grabbed her around the waist, and pulled her onto the horse in front of him. As he gripped her, his arm felt like steel.

“Are you all right?” Mirick whispered.

My lip’s cut, but I’m okay
. She wiped blood from her mouth.

The Thing that was Alex cried out, “Follow!” and the giant stallion leaped into the air. In a moment all of them were high above the crater, racing over mountains and valleys, forests, and deserts. And as they flew, in their wake roared clouds and slashing wind. Tori began sobbing,
I’m so stupid. I’m just so
STUPID
.

“No, you are very brave,” Mirick replied gently.

I’m not brave. We got caught because I started screaming. If I had kept my eyes closed like you told me to, this wouldn’t have happened and your friends would be alive.

“We don’t know that.”

Well, I do.

“No, you don’t! Child of Earth, we walk the path that has been set for us. Our lives are in the hands of the One Who Is Above All. The Larggen didn’t die only for you. They died for Him.”

But it’s still my fault, and I’m so sorry.

“You are forgiven. Now stop crying. What’s important is to think clearly, and you can’t do that with salt water and mucus bubbling out of your head.”

Okay, you’re right. I’ll stop
. Tori wiped her eyes. Suddenly, in the distance, she saw something. She squinted. It looked like a shimmering cloud of dust streaming through the air.
What’s that ahead of us?

“The spirits of the Lost Ones.”

We’re following them?

“Before this night is over you’re going to see terrible things.”

I’ll close my eyes.

“This time it won’t do any good.”

The shimmering cloud began to descend, and the riders followed. A gleam of moonlight was on water. They were heading toward a line of cliffs that ran along a shore. Rising from them were dark shapes that stretched inland for miles. As the phantoms descended, suddenly there was an echoing moan and they disappeared.

They’re gone. Where’d they go?

“Into the ruins of an ancient city, the oldest in the world. It was called Arringale, the Garden by the Sea. The people who lived there were the first to sacrifice their children. They strangled them on beds of flowers.”

That’s awful!

“It’s where the horror began.”

The riders started circling. Tori stared down.
I don’t see a city.

“The buildings are covered with vines.”

They circled lower.
Okay, I think I see them now. It looks kind of like a jungle with streets.

And then she heard it. Rising above the wind came a scream.

Is the Caller down there?

“He is.”

Lower and lower the riders flew. When they were just above the buildings, Tori saw a grotesque form. Standing in the moonlight was the statue of a giant bird with its wings outstretched.

Is that him?

“He is imprisoned inside.”

Where are the ghosts?

“Look across the city.”

Down a vine-choked street a dark river was flowing. Thousands and thousands of phantoms were marching toward the stone figure.

I see them. What are they going to do?

“What they have done every night since the Caller was imprisoned in a battle long ago. But this night will be the last.”

Suddenly the Thing on the stallion screamed, “Ended! No more will you march!” The ghosts shuddered and froze. Then the voice from Alex cried out, “Rindzac…come forth, you old monster!”

Within the statue appeared a fiery shape. It had the body of a man but the wings and head of an eagle. Its burning eyes looked up at the rider and it screamed, “Blood for blood, Lammortan! Hear the last oracle of the Crimson Throne.”

The Thing that was Alex shrieked,
“You curse me?
Never will you scream again!” With a roar the stallion flashed down and vanished into the burning figure. A pillar of fire engulfed the statue. The Caller lifted his head and one last scream filled the air.
“The Curse of the Blood…let it fall!”
With a rumbling crash the statue was no more. The fire blazed upward and the Worwil was gone. From out of the smoke rose the stallion with Alex on his back.

I
n a strange room on a distant island an old woman stood before seven golden frames. In one, the glass was shattered. Taking a deep breath, she bowed her head and started circling the room making peculiar reaching motions. On the fourth circle she began to sing. A thick vapor rose from the floor. Slowly it drifted higher, and the room became filled with radiance.

Seven times.

Seven circles.

And at the end of the last one the vapor congealed into streaks of crimson. Four of the frames were running with blood. The old woman whispered, “Angel fall! Only two of us left to stand against him. Indeed and forever, the night has come.” Moving to the frame with the broken glass, she raised her hand and cried out, “Spoken, spoken, foretold and spoken! On this night all truth will be revealed. In the Name, the Very Name, I command you…paint your presence before my eyes!”

The darkness swirled and, line-by-line, in the broken glass of the seventh frame appeared the work of a great master. It was the face of Alex, and from his eyes flowed crimson tears. When the portrait was finished, the face smiled and whispered, “My sister, I come.” Then it faded and was gone.

Coldly the old woman replied, “Long, yes, long, have I waited. So come and do not delay!” She turned and walked to the wall. Passing straight through the bricks, she went outside.

Moonlight and mist.

A world of blue-green shadows.

As Bellwind stood on her porch, all the creatures of her island gathered before her, strange and lovely beings, large and small. “Dear ones, yes, my very dear ones,” she began. “For untold ages, this night we knew would come. Through wars and endless dying, safe we were upon our island because to the shore of darkness we were not allowed to go. Died, our brothers and sisters, in untold millions. And now, this night, our night it is upon us. Be brave, my children. I love you still and will love you always.” Raising her hand, she cried out, “Look to the Mountain! At the end of sorrow will come the Dawn!” Then she turned and walked back inside her house.

Quickly Bellwind began to climb the stairs of the tower. And with each step the marks of age fell from her. Higher and higher, through floor after floor, from wrinkled and old to beautiful and young. When she reached the top, the soft light of her loveliness filled the tower. Calmly she turned and looked toward the land; far away, she saw it, a streaming cloud blotting out the stars. But her heart held no fear, for beyond the cloud she saw the Mountain. With joy she whispered, “Tonight, yes, this night…I will be home.”

W
here are we going now? Who’s he gonna kill next?
Tori couldn’t stop trembling with rage.

“He’s destroying the last of his enemies,” Mirick replied.

How many more are there?

“Only two.”

They were flying above the ocean. Far below, waves crashed and foamed. In the roaring hurricane behind the riders streamed the phantoms of the Lost Ones, moaning and shrieking. Suddenly, in the distance, appeared a soft green light that glowed on the water like a floating star. The riders veered toward it.

What’s that up ahead?

“It’s the island of the Watcher.”

Who’s that?

“One of the mightiest of the Worwil. Her name is Bellwind.”

That’s the old lady who was with us in the raft. She’s one of them?

“She is.”

Then he’s going to kill her too
. She started crying.
Somebody’s got to warn her. She’s got to get away.

“She knows he’s coming. She’s been waiting for this night for ten thousand years.”

As the light drew nearer, the riders descended until Tori could see the crimson cap of each moonlit wave. And then the source of the lovely light became visible. It was streaming from a tower that rose high above a mantle of glistening mist. She stared—something was
in
the tower. No,
someone
. Closer still. The light was coming from the shining form of a lovely young woman. It was flowing from her body.

I see a girl in a tower. And she’s so beautiful.

“That’s Bellwind.”

But she’s young. Bellwind is old.

“Her spirit is young forever.”

She’s just standing there. It’s like she doesn’t even see us.

“Oh, she sees us.”

Then why doesn’t she do something?

“Watch!”

The attack began. Like a typhoon of smoking filth, the riders swept down. With the Lost Ones screaming behind, they began circling the island. Around and around they went, and each time they passed the tower, Tori saw Bellwind’s face. It was so strange. She wasn’t looking at them. She was looking up as though at something far away, and her eyes were filled with blazing joy.

With each revolution the circles grew tighter. And then a bell began to toll. Deep and clear it rang. With each mighty peal, waves of light began rippling outward. Tori had never seen light that looked this way. It was thick and soft, and as it flowed from the tower, it pulsed like blood from a wound. When the first wave slammed into the horses, they went insane, screaming and shrieking, as though they had been covered with burning oil. Hundreds plummeted into the ocean. The rest scattered. The horse carrying Tori bucked and thrashed. It was all the rider could do to keep them on its back as it raced away.

Over and over the bell tolled, and the waves of light rolled on. From out of Alex the deep voice raged, “Stop running! Come back and form around me! Obey!”

But the horsemen couldn’t control their mounts. The ones that didn’t fall into the ocean vanished into the darkness. All that was left were the ghosts of the Lost Ones, circling and moaning in the hurricane. Finally, with a raging shriek, the great stallion turned and raced alone toward the tower.

Within the room of the frames there was a thunderous crash. Out of the seventh frame flew a spear of darkness. As it streaked across the floor to the stairs, it became the stallion with Alex on his back. They climbed, and with each step, the horse’s hooves struck lightning. The tower began to burn.

Outside, Bellwind gasped and whispered, “Oh, Father…I am dying.” As she stood in the roaring night, no longer could she see the Mountain. The crimson mists were lost in horror. As flames rose within her body, the agony deepened in her eyes. Yet the bell continued ringing.

Up the staircase the stallion pounded. As the rider passed each landing, the stairs behind him vanished in howling flames. Through floor after floor he raced until he was at the top. Above him was the crashing bell, roaring sound, and pulsing light. He shrieked, insane with rage. Leaping up, he grasped the iron and screamed,
“Ring no more forever!”

The bell stopped, but the reverberations grew, ringing light and fire. Suddenly there was a mighty explosion. As the tower fell, Bellwind lifted her hands and cried out, “Lord of the Mists, I come!” With a streak of burning light she vanished in a cloud of crimson.

From out of the firestorm leaped the stallion. Rising into the air, the rider gave a cry, and once more his army gathered. They drew their swords. Tori closed her eyes and tried to cover her ears, but still she heard the horror. Over and over the horse that carried her swooped down, slashing and screaming, killing Bellwind’s lovely creatures. The dying seemed to take forever, and all she could do was sob. Finally the Thing on the stallion gave a call and the shadow-riders leaped into the air. Below, the lovely island of emerald mist vanished into the waves.

When she felt the wind on her face, Tori opened her eyes. Still sobbing, she asked,
They’re all dead, aren’t they? They killed all the beautiful things on the island
. “Yes.”

I hate him! Isn’t there anybody who can stop him?

“He will be stopped. And when it happens it will be forever.”

When is that? After everybody’s dead?

Mirick didn’t answer. As they flew on, the ocean vanished behind them. Below, in the moonlight, flowed a landscape of forested hills and, beyond that, a broad, empty plain. Tori cried for a long time, but she was so exhausted that her eyes finally began to close. In spite of the awful clouds and beating wind, she fell asleep.