Devastation

by Jane Dougherty

  Jim pushed forward, his face slightly red with retained anger. “What is real, though, is that we’ve just seen the end of the world, our world—the one we care about! We’ve lost all our best mates and been chased by a nut calling himself the Burnt Man down a tunnel in space carved out by bloody great worms.”

  “And you tell us it was all planned,” Tully added. “That you brought us into this fairy tale parallel universe because we are some kind of superheroes whose job is to save a whole bunch of worlds from following our own world down the pan! You must admit that it’s a lot to get used to. Would you like to add anything, Dad?”

  “Nope, it’s all there, in a nutshell, son.”

  Alinor listened to the breathless exposé with half-veiled amusement—just like Yvain. Tully glanced at Jim and, from the dark frown on his face, knew exactly what his friend was thinking. Don’t they take anything seriously in this place?

  “My dear Taliesin—”

  “Taliesin?” Jim spluttered, his frown turning to an expression of hilarity. “You kept that pretty quiet!”

  “His mammy was Welsh,” Jack explained. “When he was little, Tully was the closest he could get to his name.”

  “He was probably afraid it’d turn around and bite him.” Jim grinned.

  “Taliesin was the greatest of the bards, I’ll have you know, young man. In Wales anyway. My Molly was convinced her boy was going to be the greatest singer since Caruso—maybe even greater than Tom Jones.”

  Jim looked as though that was the most ridiculous thing he’d heard all day. “Nah. Him? Greater than Tom Jones?”

  Tully blushed violently—for himself and for the rude interruption—but Alinor just looked at him curiously and nodded her head slowly.

  “When the time comes, Taliesin, your qualities will be revealed. But you are right. A certain amount of explanation is required before we can expect you to help us.”

  “And a few nuclear warheads, like I said,” Jim put in.

  Alinor just smiled, and Jim’s taut features relaxed. He nudged Tully.

  “What the hell,” he said. “You’ve got to laugh, haven’t you?”

  For the whole of the summer afternoon, until the shadows moved across the cloister, the talking went on. First Alinor, then a robust, middle-aged man called Carloman, then another woman—Adelle—who held a baby on her lap, explained about the world, from its creation to the end of days.

  “The Garden of Eden,” Adelle began, “was in another world called Paradisio. Adam and Eve led the first human beings down the first wormhole. Their descendants forgot about their origins, where they came from. Worms and holes became associated with death and tombs.”

  Carloman picked up the story. “They would probably have continued to live reasonably happy existences if they had not retained a niggling doubt that life could be just a bit better, a bit more exciting. So when Wormwood arrived, a brilliant star fallen to earth, with his stories about the wonders of the other worlds, and how he could teach them how to soar to the same dizzy heights, the ancestors of humanity lapped it all up.”

  Jim lifted his head from his hands and looked at Tully with empty eyes. Tully raised an eyebrow, but Jim just shook his head and covered his face with his hands again. Tully hesitated a moment then put up his hand to interrupt.

  “Excuse me, but you mean Adam and Eve really existed? I mean you don’t just believe it. It’s true, like real, factual?”

  “You met Wormwood, I believe,” Adelle said with a comforting smile.

  “Well,” Tully blustered, “we met an extremely aggressive bloke with bad burn scars…”

  Adelle’s smile didn’t falter. Carla touched Tully’s hand, her eyes were weary and hopeless.

  “We met Wormwood,” she said in a colorless voice.

  “Okay, just checking that it wasn’t a case of mistaken identity.” Tully’s voice trailed away, and he looked down at his hands in confusion.

  Yvain took up the story. “Your Fallen Angels were the inhabitants of Paradisio, the first of all the worlds. They were—still are—ethereal, star-like beings who set store only by learning and the creation of great works of art. Inevitably, over the ages, some elements, egged on by Wormwood, began to yearn for more carnal experiences, and they went down a wormhole looking for fun. The hole took them to the world called Earth, where they broke the first law of Paradisio, which was to keep all harmful knowledge away from undeveloped peoples. They corrupted the descendants of Adam and Eve, teaching them the art of warfare, the working of metals to produce arms and generally turning the world into a playground for the warped children that they were. All this was in your Bible, you know,” he explained. “Except in most versions it has been expurgated. You always preferred a different version of events. Anyway, one of your travelers, a sage called Enoch, tried to get Wormwood and his companions to go back to Paradisio. Unfortunately, but not entirely surprisingly, the Sages of Paradisio, furious at what Wormwood had done, refused to let them back in. Instead, they gave Enoch full powers to open another hole into another world, Pandemonium, and force all the trouble-makers into it. Wormwood begged for forgiveness. Pandemonium being a world of ash, flames and torments and peopled entirely by demons who were already corrupted, its delights were limited. However, you know what happened. Wormwood, who liked to call himself the Light-Bringer, was pushed down the hole with all his companions, their wives and offspring, whether they liked it or not, where they languished on a lake of fire, in adamantine chains. With a great deal of remorse, for he was a soft-hearted fellow, Enoch commanded that the worms seal up the hole forever.”

  “Would this Wormwood character be the one we call Lucifer?” Tully asked.

  “Exactly. Light-Bringer was how he introduced himself. It has a more credible ring to it than Wormwood. Anyway,” Yvain went on, “Enoch, as your story correctly relates, left your world and never returned. He had much admired what he saw in Paradisio and decided to stay there. His family left a detailed account of his travels, but again, your spiritual authorities—who did not approve of ordinary mortals traveling, and certainly not of them leaving the world except by the normal route of death—discredited it. But that is by the by. Our present problem stems from the fact that in the upheavals of the end of your world, the worms opened up new holes in search of easy prey, and Wormwood profited from the confusion to escape into a hole at the precise moment your father’s plane, Carla, was also drawn into it. Wormwood took Lucio’s soul and dragged his body—and those of all his fellow passengers—back into the world before it quite ended.”

  Yvain paused, as if inviting questions. Carla hung her head and refused to acknowledge the sympathetic looks she was getting from the others. It was Jim who finally cleared his throat and asked, “Why? I mean, why would this Wormwood bloke want to get back into our world just as it’s all about to go up in flames? Why not choose another world with lots of innocent people to torment?”

  “You mean like this one?” Alinor asked in her calm, quiet voice.

  “Oh.”

  “And who’s this Eblis-Azazel he’s looking for?” Tully asked.

  “When, if, Wormwood finds Eblis, the Four Horsemen will be reunited and the Apocalypse of all our worlds will come about. Your world is, I’m afraid, already dead, but once the Four Horsemen are brought together, they will ride until all the worlds are laid waste. Eblis will sound the last trumpet, and we will all cease to exist, except as minions of Wormwood.”

  Tully’s dad scratched his ear nervously. “Er… This might be a silly question, but what about Heaven, you know, Paradise? Doesn’t anybody get to go there?”

  Yvain gave a wry smile. “If you mean where do the dead go…? Your guess is as good as mine. Paradisio is another matter entirely. Travelers could open up the way for those who wish to get to Paradisio—or anywhere else, for that matter. But they don’t let in just anybody, you know. Perhaps some of the dead do end up there. It’s a strange place, after all, so I’m told. Besides, who in your world would beli
eve what a traveler told them? Look at Enoch, the greatest of them all. He rid your world of its demons, chained them up in Pandemonium and what was his thanks? Getting written out of the Bible!”

  Tully looked around at all the earnest faces and didn’t see the hint of a joke. Ludicrous as the story seemed, he didn’t doubt a word of it for an instant. He held his head in his hands. When he raised it, two different sentiments were struggling for dominance—the incredulity that they could overcome an evil older than mankind and the radiant confidence that between them, they would find a way.

  “So, Wormwood will follow us here, because he believes one of us is Eblis-Azazel. Answer me just one question. Is he right?”

  Yvain, Adelle, Alinor and all the Assembly members looked at one another. Finally, Alinor spoke.

  “That, I am afraid, we cannot say. The answer is up to you. Any one of you could become Eblis. Eblis means Despair. Take care not to fall into the trap and assume his name. That is the only advice we have to offer.”

  Jim nudged Jeff. “Here, Sage, can’t you see the end of this story?”

  Jeff closed his eyes and searched. His face blanched, and beads of sweat pearled his forehead. He shook his head with a sigh. “Some stories have many endings. This is a story that isn’t finished, so the endings are infinite. I’m sorry.”

  Yvain placed a friendly arm around Jeff’s shoulders. “The ending is in your hands, my young hero. Let us make it the best possible.”

  “And on that note, my friends,” said Alinor getting to her feet, “it is time to dissolve the Assembly for today.”

  When all but a handful of the sages had left, and the cloister was silent again, Alinor sat down next to Carla.

  “My young friends”—her face was full of compassion as she spoke—“when the time comes, your task will be to bring Wormwood to the Poll Ifrinn, the gateway out of this world and into his. Then you must make sure that he and his companions leave by it. Each day they remain in this world will mean death and suffering for the people who lie in their path. You will entice the demons to Poll Ifrinn as quickly and as surely as possible. It is a hazardous undertaking—”

  “You’re not kidding!” Jim muttered.

  “And your safety will depend on secrecy and discretion, as well as your own qualities. We can help to reveal your talents and teach you how to use them wisely. Our healers, builders, sages, travelers, warriors and poets will be honored to show you their talents. Spend your remaining time with us profitably, and arm yourselves for the coming ordeal.”

  Jack looked from his friends to the sages.

  “Don’t get me wrong. I’m right behind you, but wouldn’t it be more sensible to get an army together, a few units of paras, anti-tank missiles and that? You know, there’s only a few of us, and none of us has any training in dragon-slaying and whatnot. That’s right, isn’t it, brothers?”

  Nobody bothered to reply.

  “Fine,” Jack said with resignation. “Just askin’”

  “I thought it was all over, all that Burnt Man stuff,” Jim said, with desperation in his voice. “And it’s just the same here! Except they expect us to get rid of him for them. Fuckin’ lunatics,” he muttered, looking at his hands, turning them to stare at the palms then the backs but evidently finding no answer to his unasked questions there.

  “You are the only ones Wormwood will follow, I’m afraid,” Alinor said, with compassion in her voice. “Our only weapon against him is his belief that one of you is Eblis. Only you can draw him safely to the Poll Ifrinn and send him back where he belongs.”

  “That’s exactly what I was afraid you’d say,” Jim murmured.

  Tully thumped Jim on the shoulder. “We all feel useless at the moment. These people seem to think our talents will reveal themselves with a bit of prompting. Look at Jeff. He’s a right little sage already.”

  “They’d better not wait too long, then.” Jim didn’t look convinced. “I’m pleased for Jeff—that he’s got such an interesting talent—but, to be perfectly honest, if I had to find a strategy for defeating the hordes of Hell, telling them fairy stories wouldn’t be my first choice.”

  Carla had been silent during the discussion—silent and pensive—and when she spoke it was like an icy gale blowing across a June meadow.

  “All this talk of heroes and death and destruction is all very fine. But has everybody forgotten that your Wormwood is my father?”

  Chapter Six

  How to Defeat a Fallen Star

  Carla’s face was white and drawn. Tully tried to take her hand but she put both arms behind her back, standing straight, unseeing, like a marble statue.

  “What I want to know—if any of you so-called sages can give me a straight answer—is how do I get my dad back?”

  She covered her face in her hands. Suddenly the effort to be brave proved too much and her shoulders shook with silent sobbing. Tully took her in his arms and stroked her hair. It was Adelle who spoke, the quiet-voiced woman with the baby on her lap.

  “Your father, child, was caught up in his destiny. Lucio Bellini renounced his body to Wormwood. He had no choice. Wormwood was a star and a powerful sage in Paradisio, but his transgression of their laws, his corruption of humankind and his imprisonment in Pandemonium twisted and perverted his wisdom. Wormwood and his companions have become what you call demons. How could a normal man resist?”

  Carla raised a tear-streaked face to Adelle and asked, “But how do I get him back?”

  Adelle handed her baby to the man beside her and moved across to sit next to Carla. She took her hands and smiled.

  “Perhaps Lucio was already dead when Wormwood stole his body and soul. Probably not. If he is still alive and he fights against it, it is possible your father can oust the demon. If he is strong and he really wants it, he can win. Demons can be fought, after all.”

  “How? Just tell me, and I’ll do it!” Carla leapt to her feet with clenched fists, her eyes flashing with determination.

  Adelle looked at Yvain and Alinor. “This child is a warrior. Give her the means, and she will defeat the army from the dead lands.” Then she turned back to Carla. “A demon cannot be fought with weapons. As you have already seen, traveling changes people. For some”—Adelle’s expression grew earnest—“traveling serves as a catalyst to bring out the true self, to realize the potential of an individual. Those, like Wormwood, who travel with evil intentions, become…different. His knowledge and that of his companions has been warped and corrupted, and their power to create has become a power to terrorize and annihilate. But they can be fought with words and actions. The right words of love will pass through the demon and pierce the heart of your father. If he holds hard to those words and uses them to fight Wormwood, he will be released.”

  The brightness in Carla’s face died. She hung her head and shook it slowly and reluctantly. Her voice was quiet and dull, drained of emotion.

  “Weapons would have been easier. At least I know I could learn how to fight. But I don’t know my father, not really. And he doesn’t know me. Since I was a baby, he has been absent from my life, well-meaning and thoughtful, but physically absent—always on a mission, always at a summit or setting up an NGO.”

  “But he is still your father, child. He still loves you.” Adelle squeezed Carla’s hands.

  “I’m sure he does, and I love him, but we’ve always been detached from one another. We have always been good friends, shared jokes and interests, but not been close. I just don’t know the right words, not the kind of words that could free him from…that!” Her voice trembled with disgust.

  “Your mother would know what to say to bring him back. We’ll find her.” Tully still had his arm around Carla’s shoulder, and she stared at him in astonishment.

  “How?”

  “We know where she was when the Abomination started. Nobody who survived moved very far afterward. Maybe Jeff can see her, then one of these travelers could go back and get her out.”

  Tully knew he was playing
with fire. Carla had spent the time in the mall trying to come to terms with the idea that both her parents were dead. Now she knew that her father had been hijacked by some kind of head demon, was it fair to raise false hopes about her mother? How would she react if they tried to find her and discovered she had been dead for the last five years?

  “It’s got to be worth a try!” He tried to fill his voice with hope. Carla shut her eyes. When she opened them, the spark of determination had returned.

  “Okay, we’ll do it! But if anyone’s going to get her, it’s me.”

  Adelle looked at her fellow sages with a glow of triumph in her eyes. “The Assembly has found its warrior. All we need now is to find her a traveler.”

  * * * *

  Alinor, Adelle, Carloman and the others had gone home or back to their jobs, leaving Yvain to show Jack, Kat, Jim, Jeff, Carla and Tully to their lodgings, so they could wash and rest before supper. In keeping with what they had seen of the country, their rooms were bright and simply furnished, containing just a bed, a washstand with its porcelain basin and pitcher, a couple of straight chairs and a wooden chest. Each chest, perfumed with cedar, held a suitable selection of linen shirts, trousers or skirts in the clear blues, greens, yellows and browns preferred by the people of the country.

  The lime-washed walls, tinted in the softest hues, set off the warmth of the polished wood floors and furniture. Each room had wide, shuttered windows, flung open on the gardens of the park, and a single touch of brilliant color, a vase of garden flowers, a small painting on a wall or a bright bedspread. Two bathrooms with piles of thick towels and scented soaps were at the end of the corridor. They were in a wing of the Assembly building used to lodge official visitors, and the wing contained eight bedrooms. In the seventh room a single bright red rose lay on the white bedspread. Matt’s room.

  Tully set down his backpack and his heavy jacket, pulled off his walking boots and lay down on the bed. He was staring at the ceiling, his hands behind his head, listening to the sounds that trickled through the open window from the park. His memories of leaving Earth were growing dim and fuzzy, like the eerie dusk that never quite made it to daylight. All that remained clearly in his mind was the fear. They had come so close to death, to annihilation. Here he was alive, living in the music all around him in the small sounds of birds settling for the night, the breeze in the leaves, water rippling, far-off dogs barking, in voices murmuring and feet pattering, pans clattering and glasses clinking. And he wanted to be that music. He suddenly knew that he didn’t want to wisecrack anymore. When he spoke he wanted his words to count for something, to add up to an achievement. He wanted people to listen to him and feel uplifted.