Mists of Everness (The War of the Dreaming) (22 page)

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Authors: John C. Wright

BOOK: Mists of Everness (The War of the Dreaming)
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The winds pushed at her as well, tossing her hair and skirts, but she was walking with her feet above the ground. Streamers of light erupting from the struggling Sun-God splattered and rebounded from the floorboards to her left and right as she walked forward, a very small figure indeed.
Peter’s goat-monsters pulled his bucking wheelchair across the floor despite the gales of winds, with Galen clinging to the back. They rolled up next to Raven, and Peter shouted, “What the hell does she think she’s up to? What? I can’t hear you …”
The winds began to grow to hurricane force.
“Enough!” said Raven in a loud, calm voice. He took a deep breath. The winds were gone.
In the unexpected silence, they all heard Pendrake shouting at the top of his lungs, “ … shut up about this king business already and do something!”
Azrael said, “Majesty, I can do nothing. Not Azrael. Perhaps if …”
Lemuel called across to Wendy. “Wendy. Stop being such a silly girl and come right back here! All we need to do is have Koschei give Galen’s life back to him, and then have Galen cure you of your illness with his bow!”
Wendy turned, her eyes large and round. “Will that work?” But her tone of voice said,
Does this mean I do not have to die
… ?
There was a look of fear and of relief on her face, a look of trembling courage about to fail, a look that only those who walk willingly to their own deaths, and are then reprieved, might wear.
“Hurry up now, darling, we haven’t got all day.” Lemuel forced a cheerful note into his voice.
Wendy ran back across the floorboards toward them and a tear flew from her cheek.
At that moment, the light from the windows turned gray and then dark. Through the windows they could all see a sudden nighttime cover the land and sea.
Pendrake looked up. “It’s an eclipse!”
Lemuel said, “The Moon’s in the wrong position.”
Azrael de Gray said, “It is a body larger than the Moon, and the shadow of his wings are larger than the Moon’s shadow.”
The voice of War trembled through the great hall. “Defeated Hyperion, begone! Galen’s time and thine are run! For now it is night!”
The Sun-God was flushed with rosy color as he bowed his massive head. His light grew purple, faded, and he was gone. The three gods of darkness stepped into the great hall. The voice of Fate pronounced: BEGONE, URIEL. THE SUN SHALL NEVER MORE COME AGAIN: ACHERON IS RISEN.
Through the archway behind the three dark gods were windows, and through them, in the deep twilight above the seawall and the waves, low in the East, the morning star pulsed and twinkled with a growing brightness.
That Strong, Unmerciful Tyrant
High on the balcony, eyes rolling, looking each way at the landscape of unnatural night that extended out from the broken windows, Azrael de Gray lashed at the skeletal rumps of his steeds with the reins in his hand, crying out, “Treason! Treason! I have betrayed all! King, house, kin, and all! I have betrayed my name! Fly, horrors, fly! Fly with wings of fear to where my soul flies off!”
The Kelpie-steeds leapt into the air, passed out through the broken windows with the speed of nightmare.
Galen raised his bow to shoot the steeds and prevent Azrael’s escape, but at that moment, the figure of Death advanced into the great hall like a storm front advancing, or the line of a nightfall seen far-off at sea; and a glance from the empty eye sockets of bone struck Galen to the floor, where he lay, unable to move.
Peter raised a gun that he had reloaded and shot at the unearthly huge figure. It had no more affect than as if he had shot at a mountainside, or at a constellation.
Lemuel, throwing himself to his knees, drew out on the golden arrow from Galen’s quiver and jabbed Galen with it. The arrow did not glow in Lemuel’s hands; the arrowhead drew a spot of blood.
Raven knelt down on the other side.
Galen’s lips drew back. Through his teeth, a little flutter of light glimmered. Galen’s mouth was filled with a gleaming pearl of lovely light, which began to come up out of his mouth.
Raven could not touch the ball with his hands; his fingers passed through it. Ignoring the light, he put his lips to Galen’s, pinched Galen’s nose, and breathed. The light bobbled and floated back a little ways into Galen.
Raven found no pulse. He interlaced his fingers, leaned forward, and began to pump Galen’s chest above his heart.
“Don’t touch him!” Raven said to Lemuel. Raven took out the little box Pendrake had given him, and shocked Galen with the electrode. Galen’s body thrashed.
Raven saw a pulse in Galen’s neck. Raven put his lips to Galen’s once more, and breathed. When he drew his head back, the little light gleamed momentarily in Galen’s throat and returned back down into Galen.
Raven asked Lemuel, “What is this light? I was thinking Galen’s life was in Wendy.”
Lemuel shook his head. “I don’t know. A temporary life lent to him by Hyperion? A symbol?”
The three dark gods took another step into the hall. The corpses of the dead men in the hall were being wrapped in the loose chain ends radiating from the figure of War. The chains, like tentacles, pulled the dead men up into the mouth of the Beast, who chewed and consumed them, blood drooling from the terrible fangs.
The figure of Death raised his great sickle, and leaned forward. The shadow of the sickle fell in the large semicircle on the ground around Galen. Then, as the cold, black hand drew the sickle slowly back, the creeping shadow slid across the floorboards, closing in on Galen.
The figure of Fate put her glove on Death’s mountainous shoulder. NOT HIM. Fate’s flail pointed at Wendy. IT SHALL BE THAT ONE.
Wendy straightened up, a far-off look in her eye. Whatever reprieve she thought Lemuel’s hope had given her was gone. In a small and solemn voice, Wendy said, “She’s right. This all started because I lived past my time.” Then, almost angrily; “Koschei! Come here! I want you to take my life and give it to Galen!”
A wash of darkness slid down from the balcony like a waterfall of mist, and crawled across the floorboards, a carpet of dark fog. As it came near Wendy, the pool collected together, rearing up, shrinking and thickening into the tall, starved, angular form of Koschei. The darkness he wore as a cloak rippled, and bones and skeletal plates rose up into view like stones emerging from sinking stream-beds, and formed his grotesque armor.
His pale, thin hand held up his pale, thin scabbard. The hilts of his blade were wound around with complex knots. “Undo this knot, fairy-girl, and I shall perform.”
Raven stepped between where Wendy stood and where Koschei loomed and swayed like a leafless tree. Raven spread his arms, putting Wendy behind his back. “No! Should be me! Take my life instead, Spirit! Is my fault and I must pay!”
Wendy put her hands up onto her husband’s shoulders and whispered into his back, “It’s past the time to be afraid, Raven. I may be going into a dark place. But it’s okay. Really. Because I know that dark place is not a pit. It’s just a tunnel. And the tunnel leads to a brighter place on the other side.”
The shadow of the sickle of Death still formed a half circle on the floor around Galen. The three outer gods stood like towers, impassive, patient, motionless, looking down gravely at the small beings gathered at their feet.
Koschei offered his sword hilt now toward Raven. In the gaunt and famished gray face, Koschei’s eyesockets gleamed like two points of marsh gas, glinting in the shadow of his crown of dead men’s severed hands. “Unbind my power, then, son of the Titan; the choice of Alcestis lies before you,” came the eerie, echoing voice, “But be comforted: They say the torments in the wood of suicides in the gardens of Dis are lighter for those who take their lives to save another’s.”
Raven slowly reached out his hand, but he felt a rapid wind blowing in from the broken windows down the hall, and he heard an unsteady rumble of thunder. He drew a deep breath to calm himself. Raven muttered to himself, “Why so afraid? Why should I try to make same mistake again … ?”
Meanwhile, Wendy was trying to push in front of him, “No, Raven! I’m just not going to let you do this, that’s all! Koschei! I’m ready!”
Lemuel snapped, “Stop it, you two! Anubis! I know your secret name!” He stepped forward, tracing a star shape in the air with his left pinky. Koschei was flung backward across the hall, and he landed in a clatter of bones, his darkness sweeping the floorboards about him.
Lemuel said angrily to Wendy and Raven, “This is very foolish and very dangerous! You don’t talk like that to Archons from the spirit-world! Apollo said there was a logical way to solve this, and I’m not going to hear any more talk about anyone dying!”
But Koschei had gathered himself upright again, his shoulders and head floating upward as the pool of darkness spread at his feet shrank. “Too late, old guardian.” The voice of Koschei was like a violin. “You think to match yourself against me? It is only the young who delude themselves to deem that Death can be overcome. You and I, however, old, old man, we know the same fear. You see the grave in your bedsheets each night you lie down, not knowing if you will rise again. You hear the footfall of the psychopomp when the murmur of your heart skips; in your cough, you hear the crow’s cry.”
Koschei hissed, and his eyes glinted pallid fire as he saw Lemuel blench and stiffen. Koschei’s sinister voice purred: “Your knowledge of the night-world is as great as mine, old man; why have you not called upon the Horrid Powers to shed mortality? Be as me, and escape the jail of life; those who cannot live therefore cannot die.”
Lemuel took a breath, and calmly said, “I read in my books that you were a shadow, Koschei, a shadow who says the Sun cannot exist because he never sees it. Those shadows who embrace eternal death cannot see sunshine of eternal life. There is always something blocking his way.”
Koschei said, “Wise words! Your wisdom is too late, this time. The deed is done. Observe.” And he held up his naked blade in his hand.
Raven shouted, “But I didn’t untie it this time!”
Koschei’s voice hummed with echoes. “A word is sufficient.” He pointed the sword at Wendy, made a slashing motion, pointed at Galen. Raven stepped before Wendy, blocking the way.
Behind him, Raven heard Wendy gasp. He turned to catch her as her body fell limp in his arms. A pearl of light flew out from her mouth and darted into Galen. As the light touched him, Galen’s eyes flickered open.
The voice of War roared in the hall. “Victory! Take them both. She is dead of her disease, he is a disembodied spirit.”
Raven was looking into his wife’s face when he saw her go pale, sallow, hollow cheeked and baggy eyed; as if an instant had recaptured all the hours and days of pain and waiting in the terminal ward at the hospital.
Lemuel was staring in horror at Galen. The little light which dove into his body immediately bobbed out from his mouth again, as if there was nothing inside his flesh to hold it. Galen convulsively came to his knees, snatching at the light with his hands. It slid through his fingers and began to drift away. Galen crawled forward with frantic awkwardness, clawing toward the gently bobbing light.
Koschei said, “The first of mortal race, by his crime, condemns all children of his blood, mixed or pure, into the authority of Death; your life, for that original sin, is forfeit! Do you deny this?”
Raven shouted, “She is not awake and cannot answer you!”
Pendrake, speaking down from the balcony, said in a voice of ice, “I deny it. A child cannot be justly punished for the crime committed by another person, even if that other person is her father. Nor can anyone be justly punished without a trial, without any defense, and without a statement of charges; and to be alive, to be human, these things are not a crime. Galen, shoot her with your bow.”
It was with a very brave look on his face that the kneeling Galen, ignoring the living light which floated ever farther from him, put out his hand to have the bow and arrows jump up from the floor into his grasp. He drew the bowstring to his jaw and loosed a shaft. There was sunlight.
When Galen’s shaft entered her, Wendy face grew full and healthy again. Her eyes opened slowly. She said, “It’s not true.”
“What? What is this?” said Raven softly.
Wendy said, “There is no death. A light told me. It’s not true.”
Pendrake drew a folded leather coat from a deep pocket in his cloak and tossed it, spinning and flapping through the air, down toward Galen. “This is your property, Galen. I should have given it to you earlier, but it took me till just now to figure out what it was. Gwendolyn! If he has any trouble putting that on, see if you can use your wand in reverse to help him.”
Wendy kissed her husband, walked over to Galen, knelt, and put the Selkie-coat around his throat. When the clasp was shut, Galen looked no different, except that the light from his bow now cast his shadow on the floorboards. The little bobbing pearl of beautiful light circled around him, closer and closer, and landed on his chest, sank in, and vanished.
“Thank you,” said Galen softly, “for saving me …”
“You’re welcome! Thanks for saving me!”
“And … umm …” Galen suddenly put his hands on her shoulders and thrust his face into hers for an awkward kiss. “Sorry … I mean, I really wanted to do that …”
Wendy smiled brightly, rising to her feet. “It’s okay. A lot of people have been doing that lately. And never apologize for kissing. It sounds bad.”
Galen stood up, still with one hand holding Wendy’s, then he saw Raven watching with half-hidden amusement, and he dropped his hand nervously away.
Lemuel made a gesture with his fingers, and this flung Koschei across the great hall. “Begone!” Lemuel said. “Your plans have failed!”
Crouching like a great, ragged spider on splayed limbs, his enveloping darkness billowing like a smoky fire, his head cocked sideways at a strange angle, Koschei opened his mouth wide. His voice issued from that mouth, even though no tongue nor lips moved at all. “The dead are dead, healed or no! Her time has passed; her life returned to Galen! If she has no life in her, then she is dead! Do you deny this?”
Lemuel, facing Koschei, turned his head back, putting out a warning hand, “No one speak! Don’t answer him!”
The voice of Fate spoke. TAKE HER.
Death stooped, and it was like a mountainside stooping over. The great black hand of Death, coated with icicles of blood and rottenness, emitting a terrible frost, reached down.
Galen, Raven, and Peter, all attacked the hand, with bow, bolt, bullets, and hammer. It was as if they attacked five pillars of solid iron; the hand did not bother to brush them aside.
Raven had his arms still wrapped around the gigantic thumb joint when the hand closed around his screaming wife and rose back into the air. The stink of the hand, and the terrible penetrating cold, dazed him. The floorboards fell away underfoot, dizzyingly, as if he were being hauling upward by a crane. He tried to pull himself closer to his wife, hammering at the huge plate of the thumbnail.
Wendy had one arm free; the other was pinned to her side. There were tears in her eyes from the pain of the cold and of the grip. In that hand she held the unicorn horn. She brought its silver-tipped point down into the iron flesh; the horn stabbed into the hand of Death like a dagger. Wendy said, “Begone! Back to the dream-realm with you! Go away! Oh, and leave me here! And my husband!”
Then Raven was falling through midair, his wife’s small hands plucking at his broad shoulder. Death had vanished.
But Wendy was not strong enough to hold him. Raven shouted as he fell, “Galen! Get your bow!”
Then a giant goat-monster was in the air next to him, hot smoke breathing from its nostrils. The huge, square yellow teeth of the monster grabbed him unceremoniously by the coattails, and he was momentarily strangled by his own coat.

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