The World Ends at Five & Other Stories

by Langlinais, M Pepper

  Michael smiled, but instead of being an altogether pleasant sight, it was more like a flash of lightning during a particularly damaging storm--a flash that promised only more of the same, if not worse.

  “Congratulations, Stephen,” he said, “you’ve proven yourself.”

  Stephen only blinked.

  “This was as much a test of your own faith as well as hers. . . and Andrew’s. It was thought by some that you would not be able to go through with it. And that Andrew might be tempted away as well.”

  “Andrew hated,” Stephen reported sadly.

  “And it was his hate that saved him. Your compassion is your weakness, Stephen. Many of us thought you would have too much of a heart to let the city fall.”

  “But Andrew--”

  “Had to steel himself against the temptation of an old friend. Lucifer’s betrayal angered him as it angers me and also our God. But it is ended for now.” Michael waved them on. “Go, get her to the Gate.”

  “For now?” Doria asked as Stephen ushered her on. “What’s that supposed to mean?”

  “Lucifer will be locked in the Abyss for one thousand years,” Stephen replied absently, his mind elsewhere.

  “And then?”

  The angel sighed. “And then he will be released. But you know this; it was made known to John of Patmos in the Revelation.”

  “Yeah, but I just never thought I’d be some major part of it, you know?”

  “Nor did I,” the angel admitted.

  “It doesn’t seem fair that after all this, they’re going to let him out again,” Doria went on.

  “It is not a question of fair. It—” But he broke off when he caught sight of what they’d been looking for.

  Doria gasped. “Is that--?”

  Stephen nodded. For a long moment they just stood there.

  “I guess we should. . .” Doria began.

  Stephen nodded again. Neither one of them moved.

  Finally, with a deep breath Stephen collected himself. “Come,” he said, starting forward.

  Doria hesitated. “Does this mean I’m dead?” she asked breathlessly.

  “Not at all. On the contrary, you have eternal life in Heaven.”

  “Oh, well, in that case. . .” She started after him.

  It was like glass, she saw as they got closer, only you couldn’t see through it. It shone with a blue and silver light and was taller than any building she’d ever seen. When they were a few paces away, the Gates swung open and spewed forth even more light. Doria thought that it should have been bright enough to blind her, but somehow it didn’t bother her at all.

  When they reached the threshold, he stopped. “Go inside; they will be waiting for you,” he told her.

  “But aren’t you coming?”

  “Not yet. I told the whore that Heaven could only be reached by a sincere heart. Now I must make sure mine is so.”

  “You mean you’re having second thoughts,” Doria deduced.

  “Doubts,” Stephen said with a small nod. His expression was tightly drawn, as if he was in physical pain.

  Doria fought back a sudden urge to touch him on the shoulder or draw him near for comfort. “Where are you going to go?”

  “Back to the city. I must make sure that I have no. . .” he searched for a word. “Regrets?” The word tasted bitter on his tongue. He studied her for a moment. “You don’t, do you?”

  Doria smiled and looked up at the great open Gates before her. “No.”

  “You sound surprised.”

  "I am. But then, not really.” She sighed and turned back to him. “Sorry; I’m not explaining it very well.”

  Something passed along his lips that might have been a smile. “Go on in.”

  Doria stepped forward into the light.

  Stephen found Michael standing on top of a building that had not yet been reached by the flames, surveying the smoldering city below. “Where is he?” Stephen asked.

  Michael gave a slight shrug. “He’ll be along soon enough. The Lord’s plans are steadfast.”

  Stephen’s eyes roved what was left of the far half of the city. The fire moved steadily towards them, smoke and ash swirling with the gusts of hot wind. But there were no people; the city was deserted.

  “Fallen is Babylon the Great,” Stephen whispered. “You are concerned about what I said about Andrew,” Michael said without turning. “About hate.”

  “It is wrong to hate,” Stephen said. “Not evil. We are to hate evil.”

  Stephen considered this. “But can we not have pity on it, too?”

  Michael shook his head. “No mercy. Only wrath.”

  “But what about—”

  Michael held up a hand to silence him, then pointed down at the street. A glowing thing was moving towards them like the will-o-the-wisps in old ballads. It stopped on the street in front of the building and looked up at them.

  “Lucifer!” Michael called down to him, sounding as if he were greeting an old friend.

  The bright figure did not move, except to let its eyes go from the dark curls of the taller angel to the white-blond hair of the thinner one. “How is it that you got to be the tall, dark, and handsome one?” Lucifer shouted back at Michael. “All the rest of us look alike!”

  Michael gave a mirthless chuckle. “Just blessed, I guess!” He held up the key. “Recognize this?”

  All humor went out of Lucifer’s face. He looked at Stephen. “Do you think I wanted to do this? That I chose it? I am, as we all are, simply a pawn on a huge chess board designed for His amusement. I could not have been anything other than what I am, even if I’d wanted to!”

  “He’s trying to trick you,” Michael said to Stephen.

  “But isn’t it true, in a way?” the younger angel asked.

  “He is a liar. He is filled with fury because he knows that his time is short.”

  Stephen’s gaze fell on the shining, scowling creature below them. “But would you have wanted to?”

  Lucifer smiled again and turned back to Michael. “He’s a clever one you have there, Michael! But this is between you and me, is it not? For old time’s sake?”

  “You had better go,” Michael told Stephen as he prepared to jump from the roof and meet his adversary. “But about evil and hate—”

  “Hate the sin but love the sinner. Unless the sinner happens to be pure evil, of course.”

  “And all the people who never had a chance to learn the truth? Who died ignorant of their sin?”

  “Will be judged accordingly. You must know that our God is not so cruel. Have faith in Him!”

  Stephen opened his mouth for one more question, but it was too late; Michael had taken flight. With no particular interest in watching the battle--he knew the outcome, after all--Stephen started back towards the bay. As he walked, he thought about the difference between righteousness and self-righteousness, about the difference between evil and ignorance, about how one could never truly fathom the Lord’s wrath and mercy. These were things he’d never had cause to consider before. They disturbed him. They shook his faith somehow. And suddenly he understood why the Tree had been off limits.

  Once again on the shore of the bay, Stephen allowed himself one last glance at the city, now bright as day in the aftermath of what was really just the beginning. The City of Lost Angels. How appropriate. And, if the legends of Heaven held true, it had been built on the ruins of Eden, a false paradise, a pretender built on Earth by the pretender to the Throne of Heaven. But, as the Lord’s word had proven, false idols never stood the test of time. And the time was now at an end.

  As he was thinking, Stephen became aware of an odd sensation between his toes and beneath his feet. Looking down, he discovered he’d been unconsciously wriggling his toes in the wet sand. It made him smile. There was nothing like this where he came from, and there probably never would be.

  Stephen’s gaze traveled out over the moody water. Somewhere out there the Gates waited to receive him. He had nothing to fear, even Michael
had commended him on the successful completion of his duty, yet there was a cold dread settling somewhere within him.

  Not yet. He could not go back yet. There were too many things here to see, now before they were gone, too many things to learn and reason out, things he’d never had the cause or ability to think about before. So with a glance behind and one last look at the dark and uninviting waves, Stephen started off along the shore, away from all of it, digging his toes into the sand with every step.

  A Tale of Two Queens

  There was once, long ago, a king who had two beautiful daughters. As they shared the hour of their birth, he knew that he would have to split his kingdom between them, and so he did. When the time of his end drew near enough that he could feel the breath of Death on his face, he called his daughters to him and spoke.

  “I have split my kingdom between you, and so you shall share it equally, each with your own palace and own court. But there is a piece of land that neither of you shall touch, nor even venture into, for it belongs to Naptethis, who gave me my kingdom on the promise that I would not disturb hers, and so you owe your kingdoms to her in turn.” And so the king died and the two sisters split the kingdom and ruled each in her own portion.

  But it came to pass one day that one of the queens was inspecting her lands when she spotted from afar a palace much grander than her own. Now she had not seen her own sister’s palace, nor been to visit her sister, and so she thought, “So! She was given a better palace than me! Well, we shall see about this!” And she turned her horse in that direction.

  Yet even after she had ridden half a day, the palace seemed hardly closer than before. And so the queen stopped beside a lake to rest and let her horse drink. And while she was there, a frog crawled out of the lake and croaked, “Turn back! Turn back!”

  But the queen refused, thinking that a frog had no right to dictate to a queen, and so after letting her horse drink, she again set off for the far-off palace. Yet even when the sun was sinking in the sky, the palace seemed a long way off. And so the queen stopped at a river to rest and let her horse drink. And while she was there, a fish poked its head up from the river and gasped, “Turn back! Turn back! Before the first star appears!”

  But the queen refused, thinking she had already come such a long way and that it would be a waste to turn back now. And so after letting her horse drink, she again set off. And still the palace seemed no nearer until she saw above one of its tall towers the first star of evening. Then, all at once, the path became straight and the palace seemed within reach.

  When the queen arrived at the palace, a youth of exquisite beauty came to take her horse. And the queen thought, “So! She was given more beautiful servants as well! Well, we shall see about this!” And she came down from her horse so the youth could lead it away. And while the youth was away, a rabbit came up out of the hedgerows and said, “You may still free yourself if you do not speak aloud to anyone here!” And it hopped away.

  Then a beautiful young maid came and motioned to the queen to follow her into the palace. And so the queen was led to a great hall filled with many beautiful youths and maids, all of them in dress more elegant than anything the queen had ever seen. The columns of the hall were crusted in gold and jewels; even the patterns on the floor and walls were of jewels and precious metals.

  And then a fanfare sounded and the curtain at the end of the hall parted and a woman entered whose dress was many times more splendid than the queen’s.

  “Who enters my hall?” the woman called out. But the queen, knowing now that she was surely in some enchanted place and not her sister’s court, and remembering the rabbit’s admonition, said nothing.

  “I am Naptethis, queen of this land and of the Faerie People! Who enters my hall?” the woman called again.

  And the queen was very afraid, and so sought to save herself by pleading. “Please, Your Highness,” she said and curtseyed low, “I came here thinking this was my sister’s kingdom.

  “For my father, the king, died and split the kingdom between us and I have not seen her since. So I rode out thinking to see her, but it took all day to get here, and now I find I have been mistaken in my direction.”

  But Naptethis knew the queen was untrue and replied, “Your father was a good and honorable man who did me good service, and so I shared my land with him. But you have done nothing to earn your share of my kingdom. And so if you want to keep your portion of the kingdom, you must do something for me.

  “I want you to ride out to the crystal mountains and fetch me the wild rose that grows there.”

  And so the queen agreed—what else could she do?—and rode out the very next morning for the crystal mountains. She rode all day, but the mountains hardly seemed any closer for her trouble, until at last she saw the first star of evening appear over the highest peak. Then, all at once, the queen found herself at the foot of the mountains. But the crystal was so smooth her horse could not climb the ridge. And so she dismounted and climbed on foot until she came to the place where the wild rose grew between some crystal rocks. So she plucked it and made to climb down.

  But before she reached the bottom, a great gryphon stood before her and would not let her pass. “Why do you take my rose?” it roared. “For I am alone here, and that rose is my only joy. When it blooms, the mountains turn red with its color.”

  And the queen replied that Naptethis had ordered her to take the rose.

  “And what is Naptethis to me?” asked the gryphon. “For I am not a faerie, so she is no queen of mine.

  “But if you will bring me some other companion, I will allow you to take the rose.”

  And so the queen left the rose and returned to her horse. “Where shall I find a companion for a gryphon?” she thought. And her horse said, “We must go into the darkling forest, for surely there we will find what we seek.”

  And the queen was amazed. But her horse said, “I am an enchanted steed that can only speak while in the realms of Faerie.”

  So the queen rode to the darkling forest and there found a most beautiful bird with feathers as red as the reddest rose and a beak of gold. And she thought, “Surely this bird will cause the mountains to become red with its color, just as the gryphon said.” And so she set herself to catch the bird.

  But her horse said, “That is a firebird that can only be caught in a net of water.”

  And the queen began to cry, for she saw it was hopeless, for how could she make a net of water? But her horse said, “You must ask the water sprites.” And he took the queen to a nearby stream, where sprites were playing in the reeds.

  “Can you make me a net of water so I may catch the firebird?” the queen asked them.

  “What will you give us if we do?” the sprites asked her.

  “What would you like?” the queen replied.

  “Oh, we would like the dust of pixies, for it will allow us to fly.”

  And so the queen returned to her horse and told him all the sprites had said. And her horse replied, “Then we will go to the pixies.” And they set off deeper into the forest until they came to a place where the tree branches met high above them like a great cathedral. And there many little lights darted about above their heads.

  “You must clap to get their attention,” said the horse, and so the queen clapped her hands and a tiny pixie came to hover in front of her nose.

  “I have come for some pixie dust,” the queen told the pixie, and the pixie flew off and drew the other pixies to her so that they hung like a halo high in the tree branches. Then the pixie returned and said, “We will give you some pixie dust if you catch the will-o-the-wisp for us. For it has given us much trouble.”

  “And how do I catch the will-o-the-wisp?” the queen asked her horse.

  “You must take off your slippers and leave them at the edge of a marsh. The will-o-the-wisp will not be able to resist trying them on, and so will become stuck in them, for they are as enchanted to him as all things in Faerie are to you.”

  And so th
ey came to a marsh and the queen left her slippers out and the will-o-the-wisp came and tried them on and was trapped by them. Then the queen put her slippers and the will-o-the-wisp in a velvet bag that hung from her saddle. And so she rode back to the pixies and was given the dust, which she gave to the water sprites in return for the net of water, which she used to capture the firebird that she brought back to the gryphon in return for the wild rose.

  Then the queen returned to the Faerie court and gave Naptethis the rose. And Naptethis was pleased and let the queen go, giving her a retinue of servants and many treasures to last her the rest of her days.

  Now it came to pass that the second queen said to herself that it was time she was married. So she had her servants go out into her portion of her father’s kingdom and bring her all the eligible men that she might choose one as a husband. But none of the men who were presented pleased the queen. And so she rode out herself to discover where a suitable husband might be found.

  When she had covered all of her lands and found no one that pleased her, the queen went then to the edges of her sister’s kingdom. Now she had not visited her sister since the time their father had died and did not know of her sister’s adventures, nor had she any desire to see her sister. But it was in her sister’s lands that the queen came upon a beautiful youth who was walking along the road, carrying pheasants he had snared for his supper. He was very beautiful and the queen was much taken with him. She paused her horse and said, “Tell me, lad, if you might like to be a king.”

  And he replied, “Oh, no, my lady, for I am in service to a most wonderful queen, and that is enough for me.”

  But the queen’s desire for him was great, and she said, “Then take me to this queen who is so much more wonderful than I.” For she thought she must be in her sister’s lands and that this youth was in service to her sister.

  But the youth was crafty and knew that no good could come of him taking this lady to his queen, and so he said, “If only you will take my birds up on your horse, my lady, I shall lead you to my queen.”