Fisher And The Bears

by T Hodden

  The bears gabbled excited confirmations and dug in their pockets for change. Dad glanced sidewards at Doreen.

  “Is there another reason for your concern?” He asked.

  “I felt something in the night.” She answered. “For a second I could feel what Fish felt. For a second there was something there, some connection some part of him made between Heavens Edge and his mum.” She looked ashamed. “I thought maybe I could help.”

  “And so you are.” Dad grinned. “So you are.”

  *

  Polly sat beside Doreen in the church yard. Dad was of course reading the book aloud, for Mum and for the bears who were sat on the bench watching in awe of his many voices and mimed actions. Polly had a naughty hot chocolate with sinful whipped cream and dastardly marshmallow in a take away cup, that steamed into the crisp morning air.

  “You look thoughtful.” Polly said.

  “I don't like coincidences.” Doreen whispered gloomily. She saw the way that Polly was looking at her, eyes wide with an awful lot of kindness but not much in the way of comprehension. Doreen took a second to try and fit all the thoughts that were suddenly rushing around her head into words. “Well, the message of the story. About somebody born in hell having to choose if they are good or evil. That is as close as we could ever get to finding a story book about Heavens Edge. And the first time Fish shows me the book is pretty much the same moment that the Taxman turns up and all this begins.” She wished she could have a winter coat to draw around her rather than the spectral clothes she had been doomed to wear. She felt a chill to her very core. “It all seems...”

  “Like somebody watched Fish. Knew what he did every Christmas.” Polly said.

  “Oh no.” Doreen whispered.

  *

  “Is this a trap?” Loretta whispered. “He said that Heavens Edge brought him people like you. Would he despise you so much for defeating him that he would create all this as some kind of ruse to draw you in?”

  “That would require an awful lot of planning.” The Taxman said. “Heavens Edge has been established for decades. This gentleman first encountered Amduscias in the last few years. It strains credibility that he would have the town ready on the off chance that...” He stopped. “Oh. I see.”

  “You do?” Ted asked.

  “Please don't say what you are thinking.” I beseeched Loretta. “Please.”

  “Well, remember, we did not stumble onto the Demon by accident.” Tiger said to the other bears as they huddled around Ted. “His agents went out of their way to target us, our friends.” She paused significantly. “Fish.”

  “You may have been drawn into this long before you realised Fisher.” Sylas smiled. “How little effort would it take to set dominoes falling in the right direction? A little spell here? A suggestion there? A little nudge of this nursery rhyme, that colouring book, scattering little seeds to your parents and letting them drive you here from the crib?”

  “Lives already written out.” Ginger said.

  “Oh Ginger you are beautiful.” I said. “Okay, I have a short trip to make. I will be back soon.”

  “Where are you going?” Loretta asked softly as I stood up and tried to straighten my jacket.

  “The Other World. The Soul Market.” I said. “I need to check the times of events. If Amduscias left his prison in Graveland for even a second there would be records.” I looked at Sylas. “You showed me them once.”

  “You could also see when exactly the Born servant died.” Ginger offered.

  “That is in the rules isn't it?” Tiger asked sweetly.

  Loretta nodded. “I could have the files requested.”

  “I would rather go.” I said, evenly. “There are other questions to ask.”

  She nodded.

  “Well you best come with me.” Sylas said. “You know,” he added lightly, “there was a time you remembered to call me sire.”

  “There was a time I thought you might deserve it.” I told him happily. “But thank you.”

  He shook his head and promised one of the demon girls he would return shortly.

  *

  “Why is it,” The Keeper asked, his body ancient, his ancient clothes threadbare and the colour of dust, his skin like parchment and his face almost entirely cheekbone, “that whenever I see your name in my ledgers I know there will be trouble?”

  “I am sorry to disturb you.” I said, looking at his deep eyes of watery grey. “But this is of absolute importance. I need to know if anybody has left Graveland.”

  “The singular resident you mean?” He lifted a leather bound tome onto the desk almost buried under scrolls and parchments, flicking it open to the most recent page. “People leaving the prison of the arch demon? None.” He said that with sincere satisfaction.

  “What are those in the other column?” Tiger asked, having her paw swatted away from the book.

  “That is the column for souls having entered Graveland.” Sylas sighed. Then he realised what he had said. “Wait.”

  “Lord Scratch Luther of Hell.” The Keeper said. “Once of the Overwatch, entered the dominion of Amduscias. Dort Nicklas, Born of Hell, servant to House of Prices, cast into the same. Both on the same day. Soon after each other.” The Keeper gave a slight cough. “Distasteful as it is, both were torn from their living vessels.”

  “And where did they go after?” I asked. “Souls with no body do not live for long.”

  “They... Ended.” The Keeper said. “They were consumed. Never to reach Here After.”

  “Killed.” Wendy said. “Oh I am so very sorry.”

  “Do we know how?” I asked. “How they were sent there?”

  The Keeper shook his head. He flicked back through several pages of the book. “What, what is this?” He whispered. “Why was I not aware of these... Transgressions?”

  “I need to know if there were any movements too or from Hell at that time.” I said.

  “Shush.” The Keeper frowned and flicked back through the pages of the book. “This is not possible. I am aware of all movements. How can I not have seen these?” He furiously turned page after page. “This is...” He took the book and ran. “Whatever you ask must wait Mister Fisher John King. This takes precedent.” He held up a hand brooking no argument.

  “But...” I stammered. “But wait...”

  “And kindly remove your ursine troublemakers before they leave paw prints on my papers!” The Keeper squealed. “Be gone!”

  “Head back to the House of Prices.” Sylas told me. “I will search for the answers you seek my friend. My father commanded me to help. So I will help.” He considered this. “Or at least I will supervise while somebody else helps.”

  I nodded. “Do you need help?”

  “Not from them.” He gestured at the bears. “Thank you.”

  *

  “I don't get it.” Mac the bear said, on behalf of most of the rest of the bears. They nodded their agreement. “So are you saying somebody made Fish like this book because of the murder?”

  “Or the murder because of the book?” Sally the bear asked.

  “Or, er, the murder and the book because of the...” Dave the bear rummaged in his mind for an idea. “Hang on, I will get this. Try again.”

  “She isn't suggesting anything yet because we don't know.” Dad said at last, his eyes still fixed on the graveyard. “We are seeing too little of the pattern. But even with the curse in place, coincidence should not happen like that.”

  “It seems like a message.” Doreen said. “A warning. About Heavens Edge.”

  “Perhaps.” Dad grumbled. “Or about Orbas? This book, this day...” He looked at Doreen. “She died holding this book.”

  Doreen looked away. “So what do we do?”

  “We check Orbas is still doing an impression of a turnip in his hospital bed, then I guess we better book tickets to the US.” Dad smiled. “I always wanted to see Texas. Ever since I saw Roy Rogers as a kid.”

  The bears tried to look more determined than
excited. They almost managed it.

  A few hours later Dad, Doreen and her huddle of bears were being shown through the winding corridors of a hospital, to a room in a lonely, quiet, ward. The room was painted in pastel colours and decorated with watercolours in cheap frames. There was a bed, a window, a shaft of sunlight from the skylight and a bedside table decorated with plastic flowers. The bed was empty. The bedsheets thrown back, the pillows still imprinted with the impression of a head.

  “No.” Dad gritted his teeth. “No. This is not possible. This should not be.”

  “I am sorry.” Doreen whispered. “But I will... I will solve this.” She gave him the kindest, most determined smile she could. “I will....”

  He nodded. “Heavens Edge.” He said. “I always wanted to be a cowboy.”

  *

  I stared at Amduscias, trapped in his cell, locked away in Graveland. He stared back out at me, his feline eyes burning. Neither of us had spoken since I got there. I was trying to keep my anger under control.

  “Did you arrange this?” I asked at last. “Did you plan this murder as a way to escape?”

  “How are the headaches?” His voice rumbled like thunder. “Too busy to notice them?”

  “I'm managing.” I said. “Did you somehow arrange the murder?”

  “No.” He said.

  “So this is not to get you out of your cell?” I asked.

  “I am not going to look a gift horse in the mouth.” He loomed close to the door. His breath was clouds of steam from his nostrils. “I am not the one who drew you to me all that time ago. I am not the one who set my admirers upon you. I am not the one who whispered your family names to them so they might destroy you.” He snorted with laughter. “But you crossed paths with me. You kept me trapped here. I have my revenge on you.”

  “You have your revenge on me?” I asked. “By making me act as your advocate?”

  He roared with laughter and rested a clawed hand on the transparent stone of the door.

  “No.” He said at last. “Somebody else is playing a game. I do not intend my life to end as a means to knock another piece from the board. I do not intend to be wiped from existence. But I will. So I take my pleasure where I find it and I wait for oblivion. Whoever my enemy is has already slain me, as surely as I have already ensured your eternal misery Fisher John King.” He sighed. “What is it you think I will do now if I ever step from this cell? Run amok? Rain fire and ash upon your world? Rule Hell with an iron fist?” He stared at me. “Having an advocate of skill is a chance, which is better than none. And as I told you before, you are useful to me.”

  “So come on then.” I spat. “Out with it. What is this great big revenge you have cast upon me?”

  He tapped at his head with a single finger.

  “Can you not feel it?” He asked. “Eating away at you from the inside out? You gave everything you could to bring that sweet little ghost of yours back. You wove her out of the fabric of your own soul. And every day, every moment, every beat of you heart, she consumes a little more of you.” He tilted his head. “Now it is headaches. Soon it will be dizzy spells. Dry throats. Pains in your chest. By the new year you will struggle to do anything with out it feeling like your whole body is on fire. By twelfth night I will surprised if you can walk. A month from now you will be dead.”

  “And what ever waits for in Ever After, she will be with me.” I promised.

  “Oh?” Amduscias gurgled that laugh again. “I do hope you like it here Fisher. You will be seeing an awful lot of it in the very near future.” He paused. “And if that poor little friend of yours is tied to your soul you will be bringing her with you. Not here exactly of course. Did you see the mines on your little trip to my humble abode?”

  “No.” I said. “I have regrets. Mistakes. Stupid little things I should never have said. But nothing that would bring me here. Certainly nothing to condemn Doreen.”

  “That depends on who you ask.” Amduscias almost managed to smile. “One of the biggest. You killed an angel.”

  “The Angel Of Death.” I said. “A living weapon. That was on a rampage. It had killed hundreds. I did what was right.”

  “And thus you broke a law to which there are no exceptions. Weapon or no. Mad or no. You killed an angel.” Amduscias whispered. “Naughty naughty. You can go ask those in the know. If you would like.”

  I shook my head and backed away. This could not be true.

  *

  “It is true on both counts.” Taxman said. “You are dying. And you appear to be destined here. If you technically killed the angel or not is something you may be able to argue against. But I am very much afraid as it stands...” He sighed. “You were unaware?”

  “That I was to be cast into Hell? Yes. That I am dying? Also yes.” I snapped.

  “I am sorry.” Loretta said. We were sat in one of her reception rooms. The bears were playing with crayons around one of the fountains.

  “But surely Doreen will not be trapped with me?” I whispered. “I did not bring her back to condemn her? Please?”

  “There are ways and means.” Ted said. “In theory you could accept challenges to redeem yourself. Perform three worthy tasks and you will free your soul from even the most terrible sin. In theory, if you were to perform six....”

  “What sort of challenges?” I asked.

  “Defeat evil.” Ginger said.

  “Overcome all odds.” Gwyn said.

  “Protect the innocent.” Tiger said.

  “Save the world.” Wendy said. “You know, all the stuff we do all the time.”

  “The only real difference is that you have to be set the challenge.” Loretta told me. “And if you fail... You will serve us here in Hell for all eternity.” She looked away. “It will not be a nice experience.”

  “So who has to set me these challenges?” I asked. I was answered by an awkward silence. “Please. I don't exactly have time to mess around here.”

  Before anybody could find the nerve to tell me there was a sound of ringing belles that echoed through the House. The storm of musical notes cascaded through the tunnels and chambers.

  “It seems we have more pressing matters.” Taxman said. “They are here.”

  “Who?” I stammered. “What can be more pressing than-”

  “The Overwatch.” Loretta said bluntly. “The trial is to begin.”

  Three

  There were three of them. They were taller than any man or woman I had ever seen. So tall they had to stoop against the vaulted ceilings of the House of Prices. They each wore armour the colour of copper and had skin the colour of gold. There was one female, and two males, the female clearly being the ranking officer. Their armour was a complex thing of overlapping plates that clung close to their powerful frames. Their bodies were the ideals of classical art, looking like they had been rendered from marble by ancient hands, somehow refined beyond the human. Floating amidst them was an eye shaped gemstone of an incredible blue colour.

  “I am Seraphine,” the female said, “this is Uriel and Ryda.”

  “I am Lady Loretta and I bid you welcome to House of Prices.” Loretta said and pointed at me. “This is Fisher John King, advocate to the accused.” She gestured around herself to the Great Hall. “Is this location suitable?”

  “It is.” Seraphine stared at me hard, but spoke to her assistants. “Fetch the accused from his cell. Justice shall be swift.”

  “Swift.” I repeated the word. “Is this a matter we should be hurrying?”

  “There will be no hurry.” Seraphine laughed with an easy charm. She gestured at the gem. “We are watched by the Singularity itself. His gaze will reach the truth in all things. No lie can be told in his view, even by the likes of The Accused.”

  “So you only have to ask one question?” I asked. “Did he do it?”

  She nodded. She looked sad.

  “Have I done something to offend you?” I asked.

  “I am sorry to see you here.” She said at last. “You
understand what it means?”

  “I recently had it explained to me.” I said. “Only the damned are allowed here.”

  She nodded.

  “And you know of my work?” I asked.

  “We know when one of our own dies.” She said. “The Singularity watches close when each of his children passes. Even one such as...” She mumbled something in a language I did not know. “Even one who has fallen as far as the Angel of Death.”

  “So, just out of interest, what happens when you ask Amduscias if he killed the Lord Scratch and he answers with a no, or a shake of the head, or...?” Ginger asked.

  “And why do you need an advocate to ask one question?” Tiger demanded.

  “An advocate is not needed.” Serephine said. “But if requested it is honoured.”

  “But it is odd.” I said. “That he would demand I was here. For all his talk of me being useful, it is odd. Odd too that he would be so sure his fate is sealed, if all he has to do is say 'no I did not kill the Lord Scratch, before the eyes of...” I stopped. “Where is it?”

  “Where is what?” Loretta asked, soothingly.

  “The sword I pulled out of the very dead Lord Scratch Luther.” I pointed at the steps where the sword had been. “The one that was there earlier. Where did you have it moved to?”

  “Nobody can touch it.” Loretta said. “That is entirely the point.”

  “I'm useful. That was what he kept saying. And that I gave him a chance.” I looked at Seraphine. “Bring your men back! Now!”

  She looked at me. “I do not take orders from-”

  I didn't wait to hear the insult. I was already running for the hallway, with bears on my heels. I did not bother to ask where they had produced their pitchforks and flaming torches from, I didn't even find it all that surprising. We skidded around the corner in time to see the two members of the Overwatch approaching the open door to the Cell. They had swords drawn and were approaching with caution. Amduscias exploded out of the shadows with a roar of anguish and his Bane Sword held over his head. He shoved Uriel aside so hard the stone of the walls cracked under the impact of the angelic warrior. In the same movement he brought his sword swinging around, cleaving into the chest of Ryda and pitching him off his feet. He turned, kicking Uriel back and changing his grip on the sword, ready to drive it down into the chest of the wounded Ryda.