Year's Best SF 10, page 36
Abruptly, the terrible visage turned, with the sound of rock scraping on stone, and the three flattened themselves against the boulders, scarcely daring to breathe. For a moment the good eye swept along the slope, but the sunlight blinded it, making it squint and look away. The men kept climbing.
Custard was the first to reach the cave, and he helped the others under the protection of the ledge. They clapped one another on the back and turned toward the opening.
It was little more than a niche in the rocks, and Washington searched only a short while before finding the iron box set in a recess. It proved neither long nor heavy, and he drew it out easily and opened the lid, which needed no lock with such a terrible monster guarding it. Within lay a brown parchment.
“The Words of Power,” Washington whispered. He placed the scroll within his breast pocket and slipped the box back into its place.
“Have any ever come this far before?” Custard asked softly.
“Only two,” Ike said. “Their bones are strewn across the slope.”
Shuddering at Eisenhower’s words, Washington told the Old Commander to lead them back down.
They were nearly to the tree line again before Washington realized Custard was not behind him. He turned to discover Arm Strong ascending the mount. General clutched Eisenhower’s arm and pointed to their comrade.
“That vainglorious fool!” Eisenhower hissed.
Reaching the region above the monster’s heart, Custard raised his sword high above his head, shouting, “Die, beast, in the name of Arm Strong, Captain of the Seventh Cavalry!”
He looked magnificent at that moment, his cape billowing, his golden hair sweeping back behind his head, the last rays of the Sun glinting on his blade. With all his power, he thrust downward.
The sword snapped beneath the weight of the blow, leaving Custard gaping at it in astonishment.
A scraping noise filled the heavens as all four of the monster’s heads swiveled toward the captain. General gasped, for the faces had transformed into the features of Custard, Washington, and Eisenhower. Only the head with the blind eye remained unchanged.
The air filled with roaring as the heads screamed their rage. The whole mount trembled as vast arms rose from either side, reaching toward Custard.
“Let’s go!” Eisenhower ordered. “He won’t make it.”
“No,” Washington cried, handing Ike the parchment. “Take it and flee!”
General did not hear Eisenhower’s reply; he was already sprinting toward Custard, Valleyforge at the ready. Though it had taken several minutes to creep down the mount, he ascended in seconds and was beside Arm Strong as the giant arms groped toward both of them. Washington saw his own face, filled with hatred, glowering down upon him.
Do I really look like that? he thought. My nose seems so large.
At that moment Apollo Leven streaked from the sky to harrow the faces with his talons. But the action bought the men only a moment before the rocks erupted around them, lifting them off the ground and sending them sprawling down the incline. Custard’s expression was wild, but he held a knife in his hand as he rolled to his feet. Washington scrambled back toward the mountain’s heart, axe upraised, staring straight into his own seething eyes.
The mount rippled beneath him, but as he fell he brought his axe down on his target with all his strength. He expected nothing but the destruction of his weapon, followed by his own death, but Valleyforge cut easily through the rock.
The whole mount screamed, a deafening blast. Blood rilled from the wound, covering General in ichor. He rolled on his back and saw the faces above him, including his own, writhing in their death struggles. He watched himself expire, the light leaving the eyes, the head lolling downward.
The mountain shuddered and sank. The four dead faces stared across the plain.
For a moment, Washington could hear nothing, but finally Custard’s voice came to him, as the captain helped him up. “You have shamed me, sir, and saved my life. I am in your debt forever.”
Eisenhower reached them a moment later and fell immediately to his knees before Washington. “You are the one,” Ike cried, taking the circlet of five stars from his forehead and casting it at Washington’s feet. “The one who was to come. You have ended my vigil. Accept my service. Wherever you go, I will go also, and will serve you until my death.”
“I, too, will follow you,” Custard said, though he did not kneel. “Accept my service as well, General.”
Scarcely understanding their words, Washington gaped up at his defeated foe. “But how?” he exclaimed. “How could a failure such as I be named worthy to destroy the beast when Arm Strong could not?”
Apollo glided to a landing and placed his large head under General’s hand. “Do not question the turn of events, Washington Paleface, but accept the fealty of these men, and mine as well, for I, too would follow you.”
Still overwhelmed, Washington laid his hands on the shoulders of the two men. “I do not understand, nor know where this will lead, but I cannot refuse the service of such brave warriors, nor of this great eagle. Now rise. We have a giant to kill.”
“Another?” Ike asked.
They spent the night in Eisenhower’s house, where Washington cleaned the blood from himself and his garments. In the morning they left Rushmore far behind, and the four dead heads gaped at them to the edge of the horizon.
They rode once more across the darkness of the Black Hills, and as they went Eisenhower asked, “General, why did you go back for Custard? You had the scroll. If you and I had died, there would have been no one to stop the wizard.”
“I could not leave him behind.”
“If a commander thinks expending ten thousand lives will save twenty thousand later, it is up to him to do it.”
“Custard was not ten thousand, but one,” Washington said. “And though you have a point, I labor to keep alive in my breast that little spark of celestial fire called Conscience. I could not desert him and live with myself.”
They passed back into Mount Ana, where Custard seemed to grow increasingly nervous. At last they came once more to the banks of the Bighorn River, where they topped a hill and found a giant American Native standing before them. Behind him sat a creature with the head of a stallion whose eyes were lit with madness and another with the head of a bull.
“I am Bitter Gall,” the native said. “The appointed time is come.” He raised his arms and hundreds of warriors suddenly appeared over the hills, dressed in feathers and skins, war-paint covering their fierce faces.
Sweat broke across Arm Strong’s brow, but he said nothing.
“What do you want?” Washington asked.
“Your people have sinned and there must be death,” the sitting bull said.
“I have done it!” Arm Strong burst forth. “I am not what you think me, General. I admit it, now. I have shed the blood of children. I spoke before of unfinished business. Long ago, it was prophesied that I would meet my death by the banks of the Little Bighorn. I hoped to redeem myself in the slaying of Rushmore, but I failed there, too.”
“Only one life is required,” the crazed horse said. “One of you three. But none shall pass until the deed is done.”
“I have accepted the fealty of this man,” Washington said, “and I cannot tell a lie. I am responsible for him. I will accept the punishment in his stead.”
For a moment Arm Strong’s eyes became crafty. But he looked at Washington and shook his head. “No, General. I have been a villain, but you returned for me on Mount Rushmore when I would not have done the same for you. You must live to fight the wizard. My fate is sealed. You have shown me the way to restore my honor, and I will go with the Sun shining on my face.”
Custard bowed low to Washington, then strode down the hill toward Bitter Gall, passing out of the story and into history. But Washington wondered if someday, he too, would have to pay for the deaths of so many of his men in the battle of Fort Duquesne.
Washington and Eisenhower, grieving at Custard’s loss, made their way through the Sequoia Forest, where they had many adventures. At last they came to York, a city of magnificent spires. Others heard tell of Washington’s heroism on Mount Rushmore, and warriors came to him offering him their service, so that he gathered a group of America’s finest around him. Of these, Lafayette DeGaul was one of the greatest. Though a Gaul, he had vowed to follow Washington when General had saved his life many years before, and had been with him through the Gaul and American Native War.
“Mon General,” Lafayette said, “it is good to see your face. The wizard, accompanied by his giant, approaches the city and is encamped beyond the banks of the Mighty Delaware. Those sent to stop it have been smashed to bits. I was just preparing to go myself, to die for the cause of freedom.”
DeGaul was a wild-eyed man, with a mustache and plumed hat. Until he met Washington, he had been a member of the famous Musketeers, who had fought against the powers of darkness and evil in the Old World.
Washington assembled his company, which had grown to more than five hundred men, just inside the gates of York. As he looked upon them, despair ran through him, for they were poorly armored and had few supplies, the Hun’s blockade of the harbor preventing needed goods from entering the city. Despite his reservations, he drew a deep breath and addressed them briefly, explaining the situation.
He ended with: “The time is now near at hand which must determine whether Americans are to be Freemen or Slaves. The fate of untold millions will depend, under God, on the courage and conduct of this army. Our cruel and unrelenting enemy leaves us no choice but a brave resistance or the most abject submission; this is all we can expect. We have, therefore, to resolve to conquer or die.”
The men gave a ragged cheer while Apollo Leven wheeled and cried overhead.
Knowing how few warriors he had, Washington ordered a special surprise in the form of large, mysterious crates loaded onto the supply wagons.
As they rode out through the gates of York toward the Canadian Ice Fields, a crowd assembled to watch them go, young women pinning flowers and kisses on the warriors. Washington was approached by one of the most beautiful ladies he had ever seen, with pouting lips and eyes that flashed like fireworks. Her dark hair flared long and wild over a necklace hung with wooden teeth, suspended over a dress of forest green. She handed him a red, white, and blue standard covered with thirteen stars and stripes.
“Take this, General,” she said, “and fight for York. The Star Weaver herself has enchanted it, washing it in the tears she sheds for those who die beneath the titan’s heels. Tie it to your axe-handle in your moment of need, and its magic will give your blade power.”
He reached down from the heights of Silver’s back to take the cloth, and for a moment their hands and eyes met. “What is your name?” he asked.
“Martha Custis.”
“I thank you for this,” Washington said.
She smiled and watched him ride away.
“She is a beauty, that one,” Lafayette said.
“There is no time for such things,” Washington replied, but his hand felt warm where she had touched it, and he raised the standard high.
For three days the company traveled north, and by the second afternoon icy winds began to blow. Snow flurried by evening, and the warriors soon rode through banks of white. It was bitterly cold, and Washington’s men lacked sufficient clothing.
By midafternoon the company reached the edge of a valley, where ran the Mighty Delaware River. In the vale’s center stood the giant, Britannia the Great, hundreds of feet tall, an enormous creature with the face of a woman, wearing a crown and carrying a heavy mace that it used to pound the earth. Wherever it walked or struck, it flattened houses, fields and living things, a brutality that came to be known as the Stamp Act. The wizard stood upon the titan’s shoulders and an army of ten thousand red-clad warriors followed behind.
“How can we face them?” Lafayette asked.
“I have a plan,” General said. “But the Words of Power will not work unless the monster hears them, so I must be very close. We will wait until nightfall.”
The snow fell harder as evening progressed. The men carried half-shrouded lanterns, but it was still difficult to see through the storm. Everyone shivered with the cold, but Washington led them to the banks of the Delaware, accompanied by the wagon filled with the mysterious crates. They found boats upon the shore, left there at Washington’s request by his American Native friend, Massasoit. In the dead of night, scarcely able to find their way, the company crossed the torrent of the Mighty Delaware, Washington standing upright, holding the red, white, and blue banner before him. He shivered from more than the cold, knowing that if the wizard or Britannia discovered them upon the waters, they would be doomed.
After a long hour, they reached the farther shore. Washington divided the men into three sections, under the command of Eisenhower Iron Hewer, Stonewall Jackson, and Benedict Arnold, three of his greatest warriors. Giving them their orders, General turned to Lafayette. “The rest is up to us, I fear. Come with me.” Washington took the banner Martha Custis had given him and tucked it beneath his cloak.
Together, the two comrades crept toward the titan, whose gigantic form blocked the stars. They slipped between the sentries, then waited until moonrise. As the first rays lit the land, Lafayette called in a loud voice just outside the Wizard Cornwallis’s tent. “Come out, great magician, for we have seen your might and know we have no chance against you. Come and accept our surrender.”
The sentries around Cornwallis’s camp leapt to their feet, but Lafayette drew his bow and covered them. “Stand back, my friends. We surrender to Cornwallis alone.” As the guards hesitated, the wizard appeared at the tent door, a dazzling lantern in his hand. Lafayette lowered his weapon.
The wizard wore a bulky red robe and a white, pointed hood, which allowed only his dark eyes to show. His voice was grating as he spoke. “Who dares interrupt the slumber of Cornwallis, Grand Wizard of the Empire?”
“It is I, Lafayette DeGaul, with the great General Washington, who asks you to accept his surrender.”
The giant, Britannia, gave a low rumble and raised its mace, but Cornwallis bid it stay its hand.
“Why do you come slinking to me in darkness?” Cornwallis demanded.
“We came as quickly as we could, to end the bloodshed, for who knows what this behemoth of yours will do?” Lafayette replied.
Cornwallis laughed. “I almost believe it. How like your people, the wretched refuse of the Old World, vermin sent to pollute these fair shores, fit to be nothing but slaves. When York is overthrown, I will show you how such should be treated.”
“We are willing to do as you say,” Lafayette said through gritted teeth. “Only accept our surrender.”
“I have heard of you, Washington. It is said you cannot tell a lie. Tell me then, commander, is that truly why you have come? I will believe it from your lips.”
Washington dared not answer, knowing the truth would spring unbidden from his mouth.
“I thought so,” Cornwallis said, signaling to the giant.
“Scatter!” Washington ordered.
The Americans moved just in time to avoid a shattering blow, as Britannia brought its mace down with all its force. The impact tossed Washington off his feet, but even before he hit the ground he was unrolling the scroll containing the Words of Power, for this had all been part of his plan, to bring the giant close to the earth in striking. On landing, Washington instantly sprang up and began reading in a mighty voice.
At the first word, everything seemed to freeze in place, as if time had stopped. Britannia remained immobile as Washington spoke:
We hold these truths to be self-evident, that all men are created equal, that they are endowed by their Creator with certain unalienable rights, that among these are Life, Liberty, and the Pursuit of Happiness. That to secure these rights….
On and on Washington read, his voice growing stronger with the reading, his delight rising as he saw the wizard and the giant both helpless against the words. He raised his arms as he ended: And for the support of this Declaration, with a firm reliance on the Protection of Divine Providence, we mutually pledge to each other
our Lives,
our Fortunes,
and our sacred Honor.
The moment General finished, Cornwallis fell to his knees. When he tried to rise, Lafayette, with the speed of thought, raised his bow and placed an arrow through the wizard’s evil heart.
“Liberty, Equality, Fraternity!” cried Lafayette.
Britannia gave a terrible scream, for the Words of Power began to turn its feet to stone. With a snarl, it fled toward the south, stomping away on increasingly clumsy members.
A roar rose from the valley’s edge as hundreds of fireworks, the contents of the mysterious crates, were released at once. The sky erupted in red, white, and blue flares as Eisenhower, Arnold, and Jackson led the Americans into the valley toward the Red Army, which was milling in confusion, stunned at being attacked from a direction they thought safe.
“The giant!” Washington cried. “It heads toward York.”
Washington and Lafayette captured two of their enemies’ horses and sped after the titan, but clearly the mounts could not keep up. As soon as they reached their camp, Washington leapt off his steed and onto Silver, who stood waiting for his master, impatiently pawing the earth.
“Go on!” Lafayette shouted to Washington. “Go on, mon General! I will catch up.”
Faster than the wind Silver ran, while Washington kept his eyes upon the giant. But when he reached the banks of the Mighty Delaware, General found the titan had already crossed. He nearly despaired at that moment, until Apollo Leven streaked out of the sky and landed before him.
“You must ride upon my back,” the eagle screeched.
