The Realm of the Deathless, page 24
“Sorry,” Fire Thief said. “I thought I could keep the Under from coming to the Sun. My powers are weakening.”
“No shame to you, Uncle,” Second said. “It was a hard thing. So much harder than we thought. Why is that?”
“Because she has joined them at last,” Fire Thief said. “With her, the Under is unstoppable.”
“Veronica?” Delia said.
“She had a choice,” Dusk said. “To become a creature of life or one of death. I hoped she would choose life.” She sighed. “I should have killed her when it was possible.”
The great wave of pain had subsided, but Delia could still feel it, down in her marrow.
“I don’t understand,” she said, through her tears. “What are we doing now? Why are we here?”
“The Under can’t come here yet,” Fire Thief said. “Not until Moon is completely dead.”
Delia gestured at the weird landscape.
“Is this alive?” she asked.
“Look,” Fire Thief said.
At first she didn’t know what he meant; then she saw a mist had begun to rise around them; and then water—apparently coming from beneath them, drawn up from the world below—began spilling over the rim of the Moon and into the long, narrow hollow. She slid back on the stone as the water rose, but even as she did, the stone shifted beneath her, and the moon— grew. A little. The pool of water was bigger, deeper, and wider.
“Before, he would fill all the way up,” Fire Thief said. “The tides, you know. He would get round and fat and full. But now....” He shrugged.
“You’re helping Moon out,” Second said. “He’s still dying, but it will take longer now. Give us some more time.”
“More time for what?” Dusk demanded, sparks flashing in her eyes. “To find Aster? To lure your mother from her cave?”
Second shook his head. “Mom’s in the Under now. That plan is finished.”
Dusk shook her head. More electricity danced in her eyes, and a few arcs jumped along the surface of her bare arms.
“Why did you bring me, then?” Dusk said. “I could have helped First. We might at least have killed Veronica. I could have died with honor.”
“Wouldn’t have mattered,” Fire Thief said. “And you’ll be needed here. The Under cannot come here yet. But they will try, and as his life fades it will become easier. They’ll come for Delia. And we will fight them as long as we possibly can. Then you can have your honorable death.”
Dusk stared at him silently, her face twisted in anguish. Then she nodded and began climbing the horn of the moon, perching about fifty feet above.
“So what is the plan?” Delia asked.
“Well,” Second said. He nodded at the water. “There’s fish in there. I’ll catch us a couple. Anyone comes up here after us, we’ll kill it. And we’ll see what happens.”
“That doesn’t sound like much of a plan,” Delia said.
Second shrugged. “It’s what we’ve got for the moment. Plans are maybe overrated, as we just found out, I reckon. The simple ones are best.”
With that, he took his spear and started walking along the water’s edge. Fire Thief rose into the air and settled on the Moon’s opposite point.
Delia closed her eyes, took a deep breath, and let it out. She felt a stirring inside her. Nothing big; maybe her baby’s first kick.
Are you still there? she wondered.
She felt another little movement, and then, without words, she knew something. She knew that she was where she was supposed to be. That the stars were still there. And she was still alive, and well, and for the moment, in a place of peace.
She thought about what Pearl and the others had said about the Moon, all of the terrible things he had done. Rape. Incest. Murder. How could this—place—be a place of peace? But it was. All the anguish she had felt when they arrived was gone now.
She opened her eyes and saw the stars, like gems in the sky.
And Second, bringing a fish.
PART THREE
THE WOMAN IN WHITE
ONE
DEFEATED
Aster was sleeping when Billy settled them on the ground, and he did so so gently she almost didn’t wake. But she did, and she remembered, and she leapt up, trying to grab one of his fingers.
“Billy!” she shouted, as loudly as she could. “Please stay!”
He paused for an instant, staring down at her with his expressionless face. Then he looked off in the distance. He took a long step, and then another. She watched as he disappeared a little at a time, from the bottom up, like a ship sailing over the horizon.
“I’m sorry,” Errol said.
She nodded. “So am I.”
“Where are we?” Errol asked.
In answer, Aster pointed. The top of Billy’s head was the only part of him that remained visible. The sky was now aglow with rosy light, and as he finally passed from sight a sliver of a rising sun appeared.
“Did they—did they somehow do it without you?” Errol asked. “Did we win after all?”
“No,” she said. “Look behind you.”
He turned to see what she meant. There was a road behind them, an asphalt road. Across it was barbed wire fence and pasture.
“We’re back in Sowashee,” she said.
***
After those first few words, Errol couldn’t get much out of Aster, but she followed him when he started walking. His first thought was to go after Billy, figuring that the giant would lead them back into the Pale. He was able to for a while, moving from one huge footprint to the next. But then the ground got boggy, and then actually swampy. They pushed through that, but when they came out, they ran straight into another road. This one had a sign designating it as highway 393. He knew where that was. They weren’t in the Pale; they were still squarely in the Reign of the Departed.
But pretty far north of Sowashee. Closer to where his grandmother had lived. He thought about that for a few minutes, looking down the north and south.
“Do you have any ideas about where we ought to go?” he asked Aster.
She just shook her head no.
So he started off north, away from Sowashee.
Just like the last time they’d been here, they were dressed to be noticed. But in what was probably more than an hour of walking, they didn’t encounter anyone either on foot or in a car. Finally they did have to duck into the woods to avoid being seen by the driver of a car pulling out of a long, country driveway. He watched as a woman in jeans unhitched a cattle gate, drove her car through, got back out and closed the gate, then returned to her car and drove off.
The driveway wound up through a pasture to a little house on a hill. When they continued on, Errol noticed a clothesline just barely showing from behind the house, heavy with garments.
Dogs barked inside the house as they approached, but when Errol knocked on the door, he got no answer. When he was pretty certain no one was home, they went around back and took stock of the clothes hanging to dry. He found a pair of jeans and t-shirt that fit him. Nothing on the line was a great fit for Aster, but even pants way too big for her would draw less attention than the near-naked condition she was in.
They undressed and dressed behind the house, where no one would see them from the road. Errol took a sheet from the line and wrapped up their stone-age clothes. He carried it over his shoulder like a sack, and they hurried on, lest someone return before they were safely away.
Midday, they reached their destination—an old house built of weather-greyed planks and a streaked tin roof.
“Where is this?” Aster asked.
“My grandmother’s house,” he said.
“Is she still here?”
“No,” he said. “She died a few years ago. Nobody else wanted to live here. It’s barely got water and electricity. Anyway, all the neighbors moved into town years before she died. There’s nobody around for miles. Sowashee is twenty-five miles away or more. We should be safe here.”
“Safe?”
“From being recognized,” he said. “From the police.”
“Errol, we aren’t safe,” Aster said. “The world is about to end.”
“Are you sure about that?” he said. “There’s still a sun here, and it’s still moving. Maybe here is so cut off from there that we’ll never know it when the Kingdoms and all of that go kablooie.”
“We’ll know,” she said. “And we’ll die, too.”
“Fine,” Errol said. “Then we can’t just wait for the end of the world. We’ve got to figure something out. Meantime, we need a place to stay that isn’t jail. Okay?”
She nodded, but he thought it wasn’t so much that she was in agreement with him as she wanted the conversation to be over.
The house didn’t have any locks other than the inside latches of the screen doors, so getting in wasn’t a problem. But as soon as they were inside, he wondered if he hadn’t made a mistake.
He hadn’t been here since Grandma died. He had never seen the place empty. The big feather bed was gone, the rocking chairs, the dining room table. Even the old stove had been taken out. The house had always seemed so warm, as if it itself was alive. But now ... it made him feel sad, and empty.
But it was dry and safe. They still had a little food in their leather packs. The house got water from a deep well, and while the electrical pump that served the kitchen tap was probably turned off, he remembered that there was a little hand pump outside.
Days passed. He tried to draw Aster into conversation, but she wouldn’t even look at him. He went on walks in the woods and pastures he had grown up with. He made a bamboo fishing pole, dug some worms, and caught a few sunfish in the pond, which was starting to turn into a marsh. He managed to talk Aster into starting a fire so he could cook them, but she still didn’t say anything.
Finally, on the fourth day, as he was sitting on the porch watching the sunset, she came out and sat next to him.
“Sorry,” she said.
“It’s okay,” he said. “I get it.” He looked off across the yard. It was warmer than when they’d been here last time, and green buds were appearing on the apple trees by the fence, so he figured it must be spring. Things were coming back to life.
“They’re dead, aren’t they?” he said.
“Dusk and Ms. Fincher?” Aster said. “Probably. But the Twins were there. And Dusk has all of that thunder stuff. Maybe they got to someplace safe.”
“Those things were coming from everywhere,” he said.
“I’m sorry,” Aster said. “I know you and Dusk were ... close.”
“Yeah,” he said. “I guess I don’t believe it. It’s hard to imagine Dusk dying. I thought Veronica was dead, after the cave. She wasn’t. Not only wasn’t she but—why did Veronica do that? Make Billy bring us here? I don’t understand what happened.”
“She’s with the enemy now,” Aster said. “She went over. She was always on the razor’s edge, right from the beginning, because of what she was.”
“But every other time she chose not to go there, become that,” he protested. “What was different this time? And if she is part of that now, why didn’t she just kill us?”
“Maybe it was her last human act,” Aster said. “To save our lives. She didn’t have to kill us to stop us from waking up the Sun. She just had to put us so far away we would never make it back in time. She could have had Billy take everybody else with him, but she didn’t. Just us.”
“Because we’re her friends,” he said.
She nodded, and they sat there silently for a moment, listening to the familiar songs of the frogs and a not-too-distant whippoorwill.
“So,” he finally said. “How do we get back?”
“We don’t,” Aster said. “Get it through your head, Errol. We failed. There isn’t a do-over.”
“This world is still here,” he said. “You said it yourself, it shouldn’t be. So it must not be over. There must still be a way. There has to be.”
“I love your optimism,” she said. Her tone said otherwise.
“So you’re really giving up?”
“Exactly.”
He wanted to be mad at her, but he had really never seen her like this. She had always been the one that drove them on, that always believed she could find a way, no matter what.
“You know I can’t do that,” he said. “Dusk and Mrs. Fincher might still be alive. If for no other reason than that, I have to get back. Or at least try. So help me out. Give me some ideas. One step at a time. How do I get back?”
She sat in silence, eyes focused on nothing. Finally she sighed.
“I don’t know,” she said. “As the High and Faraway is torn apart, the Pale will be affected. I’m not sure how. The ways in and out might get harder or easier to find. Eventually the destruction will reach here, but I’m not sure how that will play out. This place—this world—is deluded, Errol. It thinks it is the whole universe; it is in denial everything else exists. I suspect that when the Reign of the Departed ends, it will be very quickly, like a person having a stroke or a heart attack. Everything will seem fine until it isn’t.”
“So if I go back to Sowashee and try some of the places we went in before, maybe I’ll be able to see a way through?”
“You’re missing my larger point,” she said.
“I’m not,” he said. “I’m ignoring it.”
“Then sure,” she said. “You have crossed often enough. You might be able to see your way in.”
“I’d have a better chance if you were with me,” he said.
She shrugged.
“Do I have to go all the way back to Sowashee?” he asked. “Surely there’s a way through to the Pale around here someplace.”
“Of course. But you aren’t familiar with any of them, and neither am I. I think you have to go to Sowashee.”
“And what will you do, if I leave you here?” He asked.
“I don’t know,” she said. “Don’t worry about me.”
His empathy had been keeping his anger in check. No longer.
“Fine,” he snapped. “I’m leaving in the morning.”
He left her on the porch. It was dark inside the house, and he was tired, so he laid out the cloak the Pearl and her people had given him and tried to go to sleep, with no luck. All he could think about was Veronica and her strange eyes, Dusk facing a wall of monsters, and a thousand imagined versions of her death. Helplessness felt like fluid in his lungs.
After a while, he heard the screen door open and close, then the wooden door shut. He heard Aster take a few steps toward him. He lay on his side and pretended to be asleep.
She laid down next to him, and he realized she was crying.
“Aster ...”
She reached around from behind him and pulled herself tight against his back. He was frozen at first, wondering what it meant, feeling the quake of her body against his as she continued crying.
“I’ve lost everyone, Errol,” she finally gasped. “I don’t want to lose you too.”
His throat tightened.
“I know,” he said. “I feel the same way. It’s why I got mad.” He was crying now, too. “Remember your first day at school?”
“Yes,” she whispered. “You gave me an apple from your lunch.”
“You didn’t have anything to eat,” he pointed out.
“My dad said I could eat the school lunch. The money he gave me was just some leaves with an enchantment on it. Once I left the house, it turned back into leaves. Dad was still figuring this place out, and I guess he screwed up. But you gave me your lunch.”
“I liked your accent,” he said. “I liked that you were different.” He chuckled. “You called the apple an ‘ahabowl’.”
“A’bol,” she murmured. “I didn’t know the English word yet. Anyway, they’re almost the same in both languages.” She paused. “I liked you, too,” she said. “Everyone else just thought I was a weirdo, and they never changed their minds. They were used to everyone being the same.”
“I thought you were a weirdo, too,” Errol said. “But I like weird.”
“Because you’re a weirdo, too,” she said.
“Yeah,” he replied. “I guess I am.”
“I’ll go with you tomorrow,” she said. “I still don’t think there’s anything we can do. But I will go with you.”
“Thanks,” he said.
They fell asleep like that, and for the first night since their return, Errol didn’t have any nightmares.
TWO
DEBTS
The next morning they packed everything up and walked up the long dirt road until they reached the highway. After about a mile they reached a convenience store. They were out of food and had nothing to drink. Errol reluctantly agreed to let Aster pay with enchanted leaves.
“I’m better at working here than dad was,” she said. “It’ll still look like money a few days from now.”
He remembered the store. It had new gas pumps and bright new sign, but inside it retained some of the character of the country store it had been when he was little. Big jars of pickled pig’s feet, sausages, and eggs sat on the polished wooden counter. On the wall behind it were shelves of cigarettes, rifle and shotgun ammunition, hair cream, and various cures for head and stomach aches. Half of the place was a hardware store, and there was a butcher counter in the back. Long open coolers full of soft drinks and ice cream treats invited him to stick his head down in them and have a breath of refrigerated air.
Errol grabbed some tins of sausage, chips, and drinks, trying not to draw attention.
“Is that the Greyson boy?”
It took a second to register. Errol hadn’t heard his last name in so long it sounded almost alien. He looked over at the old man behind the counter.
“Mr. McKee,” he said. “Yes, sir. Errol Greyson.”
“I thought so,” Mr. McKee said. “You’re a foot taller, but I remember you. Used to come in here with your grandmother.”
“Yes sir,” he said. “I remember that.”
Mr. McKee looked out the window, surveying the empty parking lot.
