Angel Isle

by Peter Dickinson

  Night was coming early under the heavy clouds, but there was no need of moon or stars. Bolt after bolt of lightning slammed down into the waves, adding their thunder to the roar of the wind. Their glare marked the center of the storm, whirling the gale around it as it marched toward the land. It wasn’t as large as she’d have expected for so huge a storm, but a concentrated swirl of utter blackness in the mottled dark of the hurling clouds. The lightning dazzled down from its fringes. Its come-and-go brilliance blinded her vision and made the dark yet darker until it flashed again, but behind and beyond that center there seemed to be a different kind of darkness, a huge, squat column rising from the sea. She couldn’t be sure.

  Rain came, sudden and dense, driven horizontal on the wind, rattling against their cloaks, sending the horses skittering sideways with the shock of it. Again the groom mastered them, coaxing and cursing. They started to climb. Now we’re for it, thought Maja.

  But no. If anything the wind seemed to ease slightly. It was coming more from the left, too, or perhaps the road had turned that way, making it seem so. They plodded on, and yes, though the road began to twist to and fro to lessen the incline as the hill became steeper, checking her bearings with what she could see of the city below, and the sea and headland on her left, she thought she was right. Of course. The wind was only part of the colossal swirl that circled that dark center out to sea, and the line of the road was taking them more and more across the curve of it.

  It was still a mighty gale, wherever it blew, but its power continued to lessen, and she felt that they were climbing not only out across it but also up out of it. And now when she looked out to sea, she was seeing slantwise to its course, so that the dark column she thought she had glimpsed was no longer directly behind the storm center and its blinding lightning, but a little to one side.

  Yes, there was something there, something solid, not a plain column but a vast, vaguely human shape with a great, snouted, neckless head and something like arms. Between its hands, or paws, it held a long black rod which it brandished toward the storm. A lash of lightning sprang from its tip, shot out above the surface of the sea, curled around the storm center and whipped it round, as a child might do with a whipping-top, faster yet and faster, and at the same time drove it toward Larg.

  The churning waves around the center began to shape themselves into a line of swirling waterspouts, taller than the tallest trees, which separated from the steady, implacable march of the main storm and charged toward the shore, all seeming to aim for the point where the two banks of the debouching river funneled in and became the outer harbor.

  They never reached it. Through the weakened ward she sensed an invisible wave of a different order of magic sweep out from the city to meet the waterspouts near the center of their line and break it apart, and send the ones on either side crashing into their neighbors, and those into the ones beyond, and so on all the way down the line, until they had all collapsed into a tremendous flurry of foam, a white wave which spread outside sideways, lost direction and spent itself uselessly against headland and marsh.

  Maja heard Ribek’s shout behind her.

  “Holding her own against the little ’uns. Big one’s something else. We’re not going to make it. Horses go any faster?”

  “Doing their best already, sir.”

  “Let me down.”

  Maja twisted her head to see him slip neatly from his saddle, wriggle out of his waterproof and start to run up the hill, awkwardly, with his arm clenched to his midriff and leaning sideways into the buffeting gale.

  He vanished into the darkness ahead. The horses plodded on. The storm marched forward, seemed to falter, gathered itself, and came on. Faltered, and came on. Faltered longer, but still came on. It was now desperately near.

  “Something happening up ahead,” yelled the groom. “That where we’re heading for, missy?”

  She had already sensed the change, urgent and powerful, despite the barrier. With an effort she leaned sideways to peer past him. A pale light glowed up ahead, but everything round it was darkness. A blink of lightning showed her a twisted tree by the roadside. That was where Ribek had turned back, testing what happened to him beyond the barrier. The appalling pressure increased…the cactus…Jex and her amulet…they couldn’t be far…

  “Let me down! Let me down!” she yelled.

  Without waiting for him to stop she flung herself off the horse’s back, sprawled, scrambled up, gathered the heavy folds of her waterproof up around her and staggered on up the road, driving her feeble legs on and up…another step…another…A hand gripped her arm, helping her on.

  “Almost there, missy,” grunted the groom. “Look at that, now!”

  The light was moving. Against its glow the cactus stood for a moment, a black, gesturing shape which vanished as the light passed on.

  “There!” she gasped. The groom hauled her forward. As they passed through the barrier she was almost overwhelmed by the other tempest that it had been holding back, the buffeting to-and-fro of Azarod’s demonic power and the counter-power of the mysterious moving light. She could no longer hear or see or feel, only sense a small, quiet focus of peace and rest somewhere in that turmoil. She wrapped the end of her head-scarf round her hand to pick Jex out from among the prickles. The amulet was easier to find, with firelight glinting off its bead. Odd…Not now. She looped the cord around her neck, dropped the pendant inside her blouse and slid the amulet onto her wrist.

  The world returned.

  Gasping, she stared around. The pale light was moving toward the headland at astonishing speed, as if its own separate gale were blowing it into the storm wind. There was a figure at its center, robed and still, the folds of its cloak unruffled by the tearing wind. Up the hill, where the light had been, only the reddish glimmer of embers—Saranja could get a fire going anywhere. Now in the lightning flashes, shapes around the fire: the horses, Saranja kneeling, bending over someone lying on the ground—two people lying on the ground…Ribek!

  She tried to run, tripped on the folds of her cloak, fell, struggled up, wallowing in the wind-driven folds of waterproof…

  “Easy now, missy, easy,” grunted the groom, as if speaking to one of his horses. “Where you trying to get to now, then?”

  “Up there!”

  “Get you there the sensible way, shall we? What else is horses for, if you don’t ride ’em?”

  She let him lift her up into the saddle, and clung to the horse’s mane, peering into the dark, waiting for another lightning flash…

  It came, and Ribek was sitting up, head bowed, his arms clasped round his knees. More lightning, and she saw the heave of his shoulders as his lungs gulped air. Benayu was lying on his back, as if fast asleep, Saranja beside him feeling for his pulse. Sponge lay with his head on his master’s chest, tense and watchful, ready to take on all the demons in the world.

  Maja slid down, staggered to Ribek’s side, crouched and put her arm round his shoulders, for her comfort as much as his, then looked again out to sea.

  The moving light had almost reached the headland. Azarod’s whip lashed toward it, and the lightning, almost continuous now, danced around it. The light didn’t falter. The roar of thunder seemed to shake the whole hill.

  No, the hill had indeed shaken, but not because of the thunder, for that ceased as the lightning died, but another colossal bass roaring was still there, not blast upon blast like the thunder but steady and continuous. The whole hill shuddered to its sound. And by the next flurry of lightning they saw that a full half of the massive headland had fallen away, and the rocks it had been made of, millions of tons of them, weren’t simply lying out of sight at the foot of the new line of cliffs, but were shooting out like water sluicing across a tiled floor, forming a kind of causeway through the waves toward the place from which the demon Azarod arose.

  Now the pale light came into view, speeding along the causeway toward the demon. Uselessly Azarod lashed with his whip. He turned away, but the rocks closed ro
und his base before he could flee. They surged upward, building themselves into a rugged wall, into a vast rock pillar, encasing him, covering him over. The last howl of his tempest snapped short and he was gone.

  The pale light faded. The wind eased and died. The clouds drifted apart, thinned, became silvery with moonlight, cleared away. Four people were left standing on a hillside, another inert on the ground at their feet, horses greeting each other with whickers in the stillness.

  “What…what happened?” whispered Maja. “To Benayu, I mean? And Ribek?”

  “I don’t know what happened,” said Saranja irritably. “Nobody’s told me what’s going on. I’ll tell you what I saw. I was sitting with Benayu worrying where you’d got to when Ribek came pounding up the hill. I’ve never seen a man so shattered with running. He pretty well fell flat in front of Benayu, but managed to crawl forward and hold out his fist in front of Benayu’s face. I thought he was going to punch him. ‘Breathe this. Can’t explain,’ he said. He only just managed to get the words out. He opened his hand, Benayu took a sniff and Ribek collapsed. Benayu looked baffled for a moment, and then he seemed to be listening to someone. Then he thought for a bit and nodded. ‘Very well, I agree,’ he said, and lay down like he is now.

  “Then there was light all around us, and this woman standing beside him. I think it was a woman, but there was some kind of veil over her head and her robe covered the rest of her. I couldn’t see her feet, but I thought she was floating a little above the ground. She didn’t say anything, but she turned and looked out at that monster that seemed to be making the storm. She stood like that for quite a long while and…”

  She broke off, staring over Maja’s shoulder. Maja turned and saw the pale light floating toward them. She helped Ribek to his feet and they stood and waited

  “Well, at least she’s coming back,” said Saranja. “Perhaps she’ll do something about Benayu. He’s still alive, but I don’t like his pulse. It’s incredibly slow.”

  The light reached them and stopped. The tall, veiled figure within it, neither man nor woman as far as Maja could see or sense, turned, raised an arm and pointed toward the pillar that imprisoned the demon. A light flared from its summit, and continued to burn as the figure turned again and stood beside Benayu. It seemed to shrink a little, and was now clearly a woman. She lifted her veil aside to reveal a calm, pale face, looking as if it had been carved from marble and polished to that unnatural smoothness. Or perhaps that was the effect of the moonlight.

  The groom snatched off his hat and fell on his knees, covering his face with his hands.

  “Stand, my friend,” said the woman. “You have done well. While my powers are on me I would like to reward you. I could take twenty years off your age if you choose.”

  “More than’s right, m’lady. I’ll be happy to go in my natural time, but a good, healthy life for me and the missus till then…”

  His voice tailed off, as if he felt ashamed to ask even for that.

  “Good,” she said. “My blessing is on you.”

  “What about Benayu?” said Saranja, firmly refusing to be awestruck.

  “He must sleep a long while. What lies there is only his physical body, with barely enough of his inward self left to keep it breathing. All of the rest he passed into this form, as I had done out of my own body that still lies sleeping down in Larg, and with our joint powers we mastered the demon. I could not have done it without him. But now, if all that he had lent me, and besides that all that he has acquired by sharing this form with me, were to return in one rush where it belongs, it would destroy his physical body. He must sleep for all this night, and tomorrow, and another night, summoning it power by power in due order. Then, that next dawn, he can safely wake.

  “But even then he must rest. Though he is naturally extremely gifted, he is very young, both for the work we did tonight and for the powers he now possesses. He will need to sleep long hours, and to do no magic at all until he knows himself to be fully ready. And you must care for him in every way you can. He is the Empire’s best hope for generations to come.”

  She turned to the groom.

  “You, my friend, may return to the city and tell the Proctors what you have seen and heard. You others can wait here, and in the morning the Proctors will decide how they can reward you all for what you have done. That will be their choice, not mine. Farewell.”

  She was gone, and they were left on the hillside listening to the rejoicing bells of the city and gazing out at Larg’s new seamark summoning ships to harbor from league on league of moonlit ocean.

  CHAPTER

  10

  Jex spoke briefly in the middle of the night, in a voice so faint that Maja strained to hear it.

  “There is a touching point near Barda. An island off the coast. Angel Isle.”

  The sun was barely clear of the horizon and the dawn still dew-fresh when the old groom came riding up the hillside, accompanied by a uniformed functionary and two servants leading pack mules. Maja was already awake, so rose and staggered down to meet them with her finger to her lips.

  “Morning, missy,” said the groom, grinning. “Thought you’d be fancying a bit of breakfast.”

  “Lovely,” she whispered. “I’m starving. But please don’t wake Ribek. He pretty well killed himself, running up the hill last night. Shall I get Saranja?”

  The functionary interrupted with a pompous cough.

  “You have two hours,” he said. “At that point a delegation from the Court of Proctors will arrive to greet and thank you for your services to the City of Larg. It would be appreciated if you and your friends are ready to receive them.”

  “We’ll do our best.”

  “Furthermore, I am instructed to enquire of you how the City may best reward you for the aforementioned services. We will need to know your names. Perhaps you had better wake your friend.”

  Saranja was always snarly first thing, and wasn’t at her most gracious as she spelled the names out and the functionary wrote them down. He became steadily huffier, and barely controlled his astonishment at the idea that they couldn’t wake Benayu and they’d need a litter for him.

  “I will inform the Court of your requirement,” he said stiffly, and bowed and turned away.

  “Could have asked a bit more than that, missy,” the groom whispered to Maja. “Gave me a medal and a purse of silver without me so much as hinting.”

  He glanced over his shoulder at the functionary, already fussing over his horse’s harness, making it clear he was too important to keep waiting.

  “I’d better be off,” he said. “You’ll be coming back to Larg one day?”

  “I hope so.”

  “Look us up, supposing you do. We’ll have a lot to talk over.”

  He trotted off, cupped his hands to give the functionary a leg-up into his saddle, and then swung himself up as nimbly as if he’d been thirty years younger.

  They rode away down the hill, the groom keeping a respectful half length behind the functionary. The two servants stayed and unloaded the mules. There were fresh logs for the fire, fodder for the horses, cooking utensils and two hampers.

  Maja opened one, found a long, narrow, crusty loaf, still warm from the oven, and broke a piece off to keep her going till breakfast was ready.

  Ribek groaned, yawned, stretched and sat stiffly up.

  “I’ve been dreaming of sausages,” he grumbled. “Still am. Fat chance up here.”

  “It isn’t our kind of sausage,” said Maja through an unfinished mouthful. “But it’s lovely. Here.”

  She offered him her plate.

  “Still dreaming,” said Ribek, and helped himself. Happily she watched him munching like a well man.

  “Jex spoke to me last night,” she said. “He sounded terribly weak. But he says there’s a touching point near Barda. It’s called Angel Isle.”

  He nodded, but his mouth was too full of sausage for him to answer.

  “Do you think it’s all right to move Benayu,
supposing Sponge will let us touch him?” said Saranja as they watched the procession climb the road. “I mean, does he have to stay where he is till he’s got all his whatever-it-is back?”

  “Anima, I suppose,” said Ribek, wiping the grease off his mouth and fingers and rising to his feet. “This sort of thing—it comes from another universe, Benayu says. Maybe our ‘here’ doesn’t matter there.”

  “Anyway, Zara would have told us,” said Maja, rising too and moving with the others to the roadside to meet the procession.

  A mounted herald in a splendid surcoat, with a banner sticking up from his saddle, led the way. Behind him came six Proctors, and several other dignitaries, all on horseback, and an armed escort on foot. The morning sunlight glittered off their spear points in the clean hill air. The travelers waited respectfully for the riders to dismount.

  The herald lifted a trumpet to his lips and blew a strange, unmusical note: Paaarrrrrp! He took a scroll from his pouch and started to read.

  “Plenipotentiary delegation from the Court of Proctors of the Sovereign City-State of Larg. Occasion: Award of the Freedom of Larg to the following. Saranja Urlasdaughter, please step forward.”

  She did so, head high, as if born for this moment of glory. The President opened one of the boxes, took out what looked like a gold medal on a chain and hung it round Saranja’s neck.

  “Saranja Urlasdaughter,” he said, “by order of the Council of Proctors I hereby invest you with the state and all the ancient privileges of a Freewoman of Larg.”

  He handed her the scroll, and then almost managed to startle her out of her hero mode by kissing her soundly on both cheeks, but she recovered enough to thank him and say she was very honored and shake his hand.

  Ribek when his turn came walked forward with a different kind of swagger, halfway to a dance step, took his kisses as if this sort of thing happened to him most weeks, and winked at Maja as he returned. If she’d been told beforehand that this was going to happen she’d probably have been overwhelmed with shyness, but she managed to carry it off. The President spoke to her in a gentler voice, his kisses were feather light, and he held on to her hand for a moment after he’d shaken it.