Shadows Fall

by Simon R. Green

  Callahan stood and watched. Patients came and went, and no matter how many the Saint healed, there were always more. The strength was going out of Augustine, slowly but surely, taking years of his life with it. He must have known, but still he carried on. Callahan had been there twenty minutes or more when finally there was a lull. Augustine looked round and smiled at him. On anyone else’s face it would have been a death’s-head grin, but for him it was a real smile, despite his tiredness.

  “Come to help, Nate? Always use for an extra pair of hands here.”

  “I’ve come to you for help, Augustine. The Warriors must be stopped. You have the power of the Lord in you. Come with me, and use it against the Warriors.”

  Augustine’s smile changed slightly, and he shook his head. “Did you think that hadn’t occurred to me, laddie? It was the first thing I thought of, when I saw what those butchers were doing in the Lord’s name. But you can’t stop violence with violence. I won’t raise my hand against another. It goes against everything I ever believed in.”

  “But I need you. The town needs you.”

  “I’m needed here.”

  “All you’re doing here is mopping up other people’s messes! You could stop the fighting, stop the killing; stop the flow of wounded at the source.”

  “Only by denying everything I ever stood for. Everything the town stands for. Look at these people here, Nate. Some of the wounded are townspeople, some are Warriors. I don’t ask which is which. It doesn’t matter. I just help, where I can.”

  “And how many more will die, because you didn’t stop the fighting when you could?”

  “Do you think I don’t understand the temptations of violence? The attraction of simple action, good guy versus bad guy; the appeal of the easy answer? No, laddie; I’m not a fighting man, and I won’t let those butchers make me one.” He smiled at Callahan, with understanding and compassion. “I know more about what’s going on in this town than you do, Nate. Already forces are gathering that will put a stop to the fighting. But if you need to be a part of that, then so be it. I give you the power of God; use it as you see best.”

  He reached out and placed his hand on Callahan’s head in a blessing, and a powerful shock tore through the priest. His legs buckled and he fell to his knees. Power burned and heaved within him, power beyond hope or sanity. Callahan could hear the minds of everyone in the hospital, crying and screaming and babbling all at once. He got his feet under him and staggered out of the operating theatre, his hands pressed uselessly to his ears. He didn’t look back, so he never saw the look of understanding and sorrow on Augustine’s face before he turned back to his next patient.

  Callahan made his way out of the hospital, barging through the crowds and crying out at the pressure of the power seething within him. He stumbled out into the hospital grounds and the volume of the voices in his head died away a little. He grasped at the sudden sense of control, and forced the voices out of his mind. He stood for a long moment, shuddering helplessly, slowly coming to terms with what had been done to him. He had power now, real power, and unlike Augustine he wouldn’t hesitate to use it.

  He reached out tentatively with his new augmented senses and found a battle going on half a dozen blocks away. The two sides had fought themselves almost to a standstill, but neither wanted to be the first to back off. Callahan tapped the merest fraction of his new power and rose effortlessly into the air. He soared through the night sky, the cold wind blowing tears from his eyes, and headed towards the gunfire and the screaming.

  He stood on emptiness above the two sides, and where he looked guns would not fire and explosives were made harmless. Wounds were healed and the near-dead rose blinking to their feet and looked uncertainly about them. For a long moment it seemed the battle was over, and then a Warrior officer barked an order, and his men filled their hands with knives and bayonets and threw themselves at their enemies. The town’s defenders did the same, and in a moment the two sides were at each other’s throats again. Callahan smiled grimly.

  All right, Augustine. I tried it your way. The Warriors cannot be trusted. Now we do it my way. And may God have mercy on their souls.

  He raised his hands above his head, brought them together and then moved them slowly apart. On the ground below the two sides were separated and forced apart by an invisible irresistible compulsion. Callahan looked down upon the Warriors and no mercy moved within him; only a dark and bitter hatred for what they had done in God’s name. All the terrible things that he had made possible through his blindness. Power blasted down from him, crushing the Warriors to the ground like ants under a boot. They screamed and pleaded as they struggled helplessly under the unbearable pressure. Blood spilled from their mouths, and one by one they died. And all the suffering Callahan had caused burned in him like all the fires of Hell.

  He fell out of the night sky like a wounded bird as the dying thoughts of the Warriors howled through his mind. He hit the ground hard, but took no harm from it. It would take more than that to hurt him now. Callahan lay curled in a ball on the ground as he fought for control, but the pain of the dead was just too much to bear. They hadn’t been evil, most of them. Just soldiers doing what their officers and superiors had assured them was the right thing. They had listened to the wrong people, and hadn’t questioned enough, but often that was the extent of their guilt. To understand all is to forgive much, and Callahan finally realized what Augustine had meant. You can’t fight evil by becoming evil. By showing no mercy to the Warriors he had been just as blind as them.

  Vengeance is mine, saith the Lord.

  Callahan rose shakily to his feet as the voices gradually died away in his mind. They’d never be completely silent; they were a part of him now, and always would be. The triumphant defenders approached him diffidently to offer thanks, but he waved them away. They would only ask questions he didn’t have the answers for yet. He turned and walked away, and the defenders let him go. Living in Shadows Fall you learned to respect power where you found it.

  Callahan walked on through the town, stopping the fighting wherever he came across it. He took no vengeance on the Warriors, and stopped any who tried to take it in his place. Let the law handle it. Human law. He walked on, street by street, square by square, and a slow healing calm settled over his part of the town. He knew the power within him was capable of much more, but he refused to be tempted by it. Trying to impose his will on the town by force was what had got him into all this trouble in the first place. He was a man of God, a man of peace, though it had taken Augustine’s power to remind him of that. Choosing violence inevitably took you down the Warriors’ path, where everyone who disagreed with you was automatically a sinner, and therefore an enemy. In their pursuit of their version of justice, the Warriors had forgotten mercy and compassion. And more than that, they’d forgotten the strength such things could inspire.

  Callahan stopped before an open square and looked about him. The place was silent and deserted, though there were signs that a battle of some kind had taken place there quite recently. He reached out with his heightened senses, and found them blunted, masked. There was something in the square with him, something he was being prevented from seeing. Even as he realized that, magic roared around him, consuming him and his surroundings in incandescent flames. Nearby street lamps drooped like dying flowers, and the street cracked open under the impact of the raging heat. Throughout the square the air was scorched away, and paintwork blistered and boiled on even the furthest buildings.

  And in the midst of those flames stood Father Callahan, serene and untouched. The magic intensified, boiling the surface of the street around him, and still it couldn’t touch him. He was a man of God, and the Lord’s power was with him. He reached out with his heightened senses, and quickly located the source of the attack. The Warriors had set their sorcerer priests against him. Their power raged within them, fell and potent, and Callahan knew he couldn’t turn away. As long as the circle of sorcerer priests still held, Shadows Fall wou
ld never be truly safe. He smothered the flames around him with a thought, and reached out to the priests, and in that moment battle was joined, their faith against his.

  The two forces came together, clashing head on. There was no room for subtlety of manoeuvre, for dialogue or compromise. The battle raged this way and that, switching from physical to spiritual and back again. The square was consumed in an inferno, blowing apart the surrounding buildings like rotten fruit. And slowly, step by step, Callahan was driven back. He was still new in his power, and there were so many of them. He drew on greater and greater reserves of power, knowing the toll it was taking on his mortal frame, but helpless to prevent it. Man was not meant to use such power as this, and it was consuming him, body and soul. So he did the only thing he could, the one option left to him. He called up all his power in a single moment, and let it do what it would with him. The power lashed out, driven by every last vestige of his life force, and the sorcerer priests fell back, unable to match his magic; because in the end Callahan was not afraid to die, and they were. The circle disintegrated as each man tried to save himself, and with their power broken and their faith shattered they were no match for the force that swept over them.

  The flames died down, guttered, and went out. The temperature dropped quickly back to normal, and all was still and silent in the fire-blackened square. And in the middle of it all lay one dead man, burned to a charred corpse. A man at peace with himself at last.

  —

  Rhea Frazier stopped struggling and let the two soldiers drag her where they wanted. She stumbled along, her head swimming, the world passing by in brief impressions of wrecked buildings and running men. One of her eyes was swollen shut, and there was blood on her face and in her mouth from the beating the soldiers had given her when they captured her. They were furious over the men Ash had killed, before they killed him. They’d thrown her back and forth between them, not letting her fall, hitting her again and again. She had no doubt they would have beaten her to death if she hadn’t managed to make them understand that she was the Mayor of Shadows Fall. They’d backed off then, reluctantly, and left her to lie shaking and crying on the ground while one of them radioed his superiors for instructions.

  The beating had shaken her, destroying her confidence on some basic, instinctive level. They’d taken their time with her, enjoying it, and there had been nothing she could do to stop them. Except out-think them. As long as she was still thinking, planning, they hadn’t beaten her. They could break her body, but not her spirit. She stopped crying, forcing it back by sniffing and swallowing, and sat up slowly. Her ribs hurt her with every breath, and her stomach was a single mass of pain. She spat several times, trying to get the taste of blood out of her mouth.

  A soldier came back and stood over her, and she shrank back instinctively. He hauled her to her feet without speaking to her, and held her there while another soldier handcuffed her hands behind her back. Then they dragged her over to a nearby jeep, threw her in the back, and drove off. She had no idea where she was going, the passing streets merely an impression of noise and movement, but just the fact that the beating had stopped gave her hope. Somebody still thought she was valuable, that she could be of use to them. With a little luck, she might find a way out of this yet. The jeep finally stopped, and they hauled her out of the back and down the street. Finally she stumbled up some steps and into a building, and it was only then she realized where they’d brought her. The town Library.

  It seemed pretty much untouched by the general destruction, and she just had time to wonder why when the two soldiers stopped suddenly and threw her to the floor. Without her arms to protect her she landed hard. The thick carpet cushioned some of the impact, but it was still enough to knock the breath out of her. She lay still, struggling to get her breath back, and they left her alone. For the first time, she allowed herself to think about Ash. She didn’t cry, there wasn’t enough strength left in her for that, but seeing him die again had hurt her on a level that the soldiers hadn’t even come close to touching with their beating. It was as though there was a gap in her now, a hole the shape of Leonard Ash, and all he’d meant to her. She’d lost him again.

  She pushed the thought aside. She couldn’t think about that now. It would have to wait. She raised her head slowly and looked around her. She was in the midst of the main Library stacks, and soldiers were crossing back and forth before her, carrying arm-loads of books from the shelves and stacking them in neat piles by the reception desk. There was a definite sense of purpose to it, and Rhea turned the thought over in her mind. Surely the soldiers hadn’t destroyed half the town just to seize some books from the Library? The town had its fair share of important and forbidden texts, but they were all safely locked away in the Archives at All Hallows Hall, under Time’s watchful eye. There was nothing in the Library worth fighting a war over.

  She saw someone approaching her, and tried to sit up straight. It was hard to get her balance with her hands handcuffed behind her back, and she moaned despite herself at the pain her efforts caused her. One of the soldiers standing over her grabbed a handful of her hair and jerked her head back so that she was looking up at the newcomer. He was an officer of some kind. Mid-forties, stocky, but little of it fat, back straight as a poker and hair cropped right back to the skull. His face was cold, his eyes impersonal. Just from looking at him, Rhea knew that he was sharp, intelligent, controlled. He saw her pain, but took no pleasure from it, just noted that it would make her questioning that much easier. Rhea struggled to clear her mind. This man was dangerous. He listened calmly as the soldier holding her hair described Ash’s attack and death, and her capture. The officer thought for a moment, and then turned his attention to Rhea. When he spoke, his voice was slow and calm.

  “I’ve been an army man all my adult life. Seen a fair amount of combat, here and there. Got my hands dirty on occasion, and never once gave up on a mission until it was completed. I’ve seen some strange things in my time, and none of them threw me for more than a moment or two. But this town of yours is pushing me to my limits. From what I’ve seen, I’d say it’s infested with demons, witches and unbelievers. Which are you?”

  Rhea swallowed hard. She wanted to be sure her voice was clear and calm and steady when she answered. “I’m Rhea Frazier, Mayor of Shadows Fall.” Her lips split open again as she spoke, and she tasted fresh blood in her mouth. Some of her teeth felt uncomfortably loose too, but she could cope with that. She did her best to look coldly at the officer. “I speak for this town and its defenders. Is there anyone among your people with two brain cells to rub together that I could talk to?”

  The soldier with his hand in her hair shook her head roughly. Tears ran down her face, as much from weakness as pain. The officer waited for her to regain her composure.

  “Mind your manners,” he said finally. “I am Major Williams of the Warriors of the Cross, and I speak for God, in the absence of a superior officer. We are all warriors of God, and an insult to us is an insult to him.”

  “What are you doing here?” said Rhea flatly. She knew it was important not to seem cowed before this man. He respected strength. “Why are your men taking those books?”

  “We have come to bring the word and will of God to this sink of iniquity. The guilty shall be punished. Blasphemers will be punished. The word of God shall reign supreme here. As for the books; we’re sorting the wheat from the chaff. We’re removing all books of a fantastic nature. Fantasies are unhealthy. People must learn to live in the real world. Besides, many of these books deal with magic, and the word of the Lord is clear. Thou shalt not suffer a witch to live.

  “We are also removing all books that contain information that the common people are not ready to cope with. A little knowledge is a dangerous thing, and is best left to those who have been trained in the proper ways of interpreting it. And finally, we are removing all books which in any way contradict God’s word. Blasphemy is not permitted. As soon as this town is secured, we’ll have a commu
nal book-burning. Sit around the fire, toast marshmallows, sing a few songs. I like a good book-burning. Helps bring a community together.”

  His voice never rose and his face remained calm all the time he was talking. There was little point in trying to reason with the man. Rhea knew a fanatic when she saw one. But she had to try; the town was depending on her. She couldn’t lose that as well as Ash. A sudden rush of grief swept through her, catching her by surprise. Ash was dead. She’d only just got him back and now he was gone again. I can’t have lost you again, Leonard. I couldn’t bear it. She forced the thought away. She’d grieve for him later, when she had the time. The town needed her now.

  “I’m the Mayor of Shadows Fall,” she said again, doggedly. “As representative of the town’s civil authority, I’m prepared to discuss surrender terms.”

  “Terms?” said Williams, his mouth twitching in something that might have been a smile. “You’re in no position to dictate terms. The town will surrender or it will be destroyed. Your fellow town Councillors also tried to dictate terms. They are now dead, executed in the name of the Lord.”

  He watched the realization of what that meant sink into her, and smiled inwardly. She had no way of knowing he was lying, and the damned Councillors had actually escaped for the moment. It was true enough anyway; the Leader had given orders they were all to be shot on sight. The Mayor also had no way of knowing that portions of the Warrior forces were currently getting their ass kicked in no uncertain manner. If she could be persuaded to surrender the town, the enemy forces would have to stand down, without ever knowing how close to victory they’d come. Might as well try her with a few pertinent questions, while she was still off balance.