by Jon Steele
‘Gosh, the light … it’s so beautiful.’
He stepped behind her, raised her arms, turned her palms to the window.
‘And you will be the bearer of the light.’
A shaft of colour took shape and cut through the dull grey light in the cathedral, touching the floor and racing over the stones and crossing her feet. She looked into the window, as if standing in the middle of a rainbow. The man stepped in front of her. The brilliant light glowing all around him as he faded into silhouette.
‘Where are you going?’
‘To purify the light before it touches the life within you. C’est le guet, il a sonné l’heure, il a sonné l’heure.’
thirty-nine
‘Miss Taylor, Miss Taylor.’
Katherine woke and saw Harper standing over her, Rochat next to him with his lantern in his hand.
‘Hey, I must have dozed off.’
She lifted herself from the wood bench. The blankets slipped from her shoulders. She noticed their clothes covered in dust, the dirt on their hands and faces.
‘What’ve you guys been doing? You’re filthy.’
Rochat looked at Harper, Harper looked at Katherine.
‘Stacking chairs, we were stacking chairs at the doors.’
‘Didn’t you do that already … Marc?’
‘Oui?’
‘I just woke up and that lantern’s really bright.’
‘Pardon.’
Rochat lowered the lantern. Katherine saw their faces.
‘You’re sunburned, the two of you.’
Harper looked at Rochat, Rochat looked at Katherine, he said the first thing that came into his head.
‘We went on the balconies of the lantern tower to check the doors were locked and the sun is very bright today.’
‘Wait, you guys left me alone? No wonder I was having weird dreams.’
‘Nightmare kind of dreams?’
‘No, Marc, just the run-of-the-mill weird kind.’ She folded the blankets, remembering. ‘I dreamed the sun was coming through that big stained-glass window and this guy was floating in the light. He was saying the words Marc says when he calls the hour. Kind of funny, if you think about it.’
‘What did he look like, Miss Taylor?’
‘What do you mean, “What did he look like?” It was a dream, you know how dreams are.’
‘Actually, I don’t.’
‘What?’
‘Did he look like a tramp?’
Katherine raised an eyebrow.
‘Yeah, how did you know?’
‘What did he say to you?’
‘Gibberish, that’s the way people talk in dreams, the way you’re talking now.’
Harper pulled the blankets from her hands, set them on the bench.
‘Miss Taylor, it’s important. What did he say to you?’
‘What’s going on, Harper?’
He didn’t answer.
‘This comes under the heading of things I wouldn’t understand in a billion years, doesn’t it?’
‘Something like that.’
‘OK.’ Katherine pointed to the burning candles on the crossing square. ‘He was over there. He told me you guys were gone, that you’d be back, and he said something in Latin … “Una salus victis” … something. I told him I’d never remember it.’
‘“Una salus victis nullam sperare salutem.”’
‘Yeah, and now you’re freaking me out.’
‘What else?’
‘Harper …’
‘Tell me.’
‘He took me for a walk.’
‘Where?’
‘On the altar.’
‘Show me.’
‘Harper, it was a dream.’
‘Show me.’
‘Fine.’
She walked to the centre of the crossing square and turned and faced the giant stained-glass window in the south transept wall.
‘He said, “Walk with me,” and he took my hand and led me here, in the middle of these candles.’
‘On that exact spot, dead centre of the altar square?’
‘Yeah, right here. And he held out my arms and turned the palms of my hands towards the window and he told me to watch the light. I remember the sun passed by the stained-glass window and it got really warm. Then there were all these colours. I remember it felt like I was standing in the middle of a rainbow. That’s when he started to float away into the light and he said something about purifying the light to protect the life inside me, me being the bearer of light … don’t stare at me like that, Harper. I told you it was a dream.’
‘What else happened in the dream?’
‘I don’t know. No, I do … everything went bright as the sun and the nave was filled with people watching us. It was really weird because they didn’t have faces, they were just shapes. The tramp said they were the undying souls to be born into a new … Now you’re staring at me, Marc. What is it?’
‘I … I was wondering where my lantern was.’
‘It’s in your hands.’ Rochat looked down to his lantern.
‘Oh. Merci.’
‘You know, you two lunatics are acting weirder than the guy in my dream. Sorry, Marc, you’re not a lunatic. It’s just an expression.’
‘Pas grave.’
Twelve deep-throated gongs rolled through the nave.
Harper looked at his watch, tapped the crystal. Rochat leaned close to him.
‘Is your watch still broken, monsieur?’
‘No, it’s ticking again, just backwards.’
‘That’s because it’s a cheap watch, Harper. First thing I noticed about you at LP’s.’
The sun crossed the giant rose window, the thousands of pieces of coloured glass sparkled like tiny jewels. Katherine shaded her eyes.
‘And it’s a good thing it was only a dream or that’d make the third time today the sun was going by that window. Man, it’s all so weird, isn’t it?’
Katherine turned, saw the two of them huddled over the wristwatch. She walked close to them. She saw the watch winding back and slowing to a stop and then racing ahead. One thirty, two, three fifteen, three forty. Katherine threw up her hands.
‘OK, I give up. I’m lying back down because, obviously, I’m still dreaming.’
Harper looked at her.
‘Miss Taylor, earlier, do you remember telling me the lad would never leave the cathedral, telling me to get with your dream, Plan B?’
‘Huh?’
‘That’s what I thought. Goodnight.’
‘Huh?’
Harper passed his palm in front of Katherine’s face.
‘“Dulcis et alta …”’
She fell back into Rochat before Harper finished the words. Rochat stumbled, the flame in his lantern flickered.
‘The lantern, mate. Don’t drop it!’
Rochat quickly steadied himself. Still-burning lantern in one hand, collapsed angel in the other.
‘I’ve got them both, monsieur. But why did you—’
A terrible growling wind rose from beyond the cathedral walls, snapping and biting at the stones. Black mist seeped through the spaces under the doors and crawled along the flagstones to snuff out the candles on the crossing square. The light in the nave grew dim and the long shaft of tubular light pouring through the giant stained glass in the south transept wall seemed to slow amid a billion motes of dust. Harper saw the dazed expression crossing Rochat’s face.
‘C’mon, mate, you know how time works. You can see this, just blink.’
Rochat blinked. His eyes seeing the world gone still as a photograph. The unmoving threads of coloured light, the motionless dust, the still-life wisps of smoke from the snuffed candles on the crossing square. Only the flame in his lantern moved. He reached out with a finger and poked at the threads of light hanging in the air. Small concentric waves rippled outward.
‘It’s like throwing a stone in Lac Léman.’
‘If only it was going to be as much fun.’
‘
Pardon?’
Harper nodded towards the leaded glass in the walls of the chancel. Rochat saw black mist spreading quickly over all the windows and across the giant rose window in the south transept wall. Casting the nave into complete darkness but for the fire in Rochat’s lantern. The growling wind pounded on the doors, sending shock waves through the unmoving world of the cathedral.
‘I’m very sure evil has returned to Lausanne, monsieur.’
‘I’m very sure you’re right.’ Carefully, Harper took the lantern from Rochat. ‘Take Miss Taylor, get in the alcove over there.’
Rochat gathered Katherine in his arms and shuffled quickly to the Virgin’s chapel near the south transept. Harper grabbed the wool blankets from the bench, ran after him, tossing one of the blankets to Rochat.
‘Cover her with the blanket, cover yourself with your overcoat.’
Rochat tucked himself in the small alcove. He pulled Katherine close to him and wrapped her in the blanket. He saw Harper dropping to his knees between two tightly fitted pillars, wrapping a blanket around his shoulders.
‘Monsieur, the fire in the lantern, it’s dying!’
Harper saw the choking flame.
‘Just get down!’
Rochat pulled the collar of his overcoat over his head, peeked through the buttons and saw Harper lean over the lantern and breathe into the flame before disappearing under his blanket. The cathedral dissolved into blackest dark. The growling wind beyond the doors wound to an ear-splitting pitch … then silence.
Rochat pulled Katherine closer.
‘Be not afraid, be not afraid.’
The wind howled again and the cathedral doors broke open with a terrifying crash. The barricades of wood chairs flew through the nave, smashed into the pillars and arches and shattered apart. All the doors tore from their hinges, skidded over the flagstones and slammed into the stone walls. The leaded-glass windows in the high balconies exploded into dust. Then all the windows of the nave and along the chancel. The great rose window in the south transept wall crackled and cracked and distended inward till it burst apart with a horrible crash and the sum of man’s knowledge when the world was flat fell through the nave like flecks of coloured snow.
It was silent again.
Rochat saw Harper looking towards him from under his blanket, his finger at his lips – Don’t move, don’t make a sound – pointing to the broken doorways. Black mist crept over the threshold and moved over the flagstones as if hunting prey. Sniffing, searching. It gathered on the crossing square and formed into a cyclone. Swelling and spinning and rising. Sucking in the broken remains of the nave. It stretched high into the lantern tower, pulsed with black light and roared before it crashed down on to the centre of the crossing square and smashed through the flagstones and drilled deep into the earth. A cloud of ancient dust filled the nave before being sucked into the cyclone. Skeletons ascended from the crypt and were drawn into the spinning blackness like frightened things.
‘Watch out! They’re coming for her!’
Rochat saw Harper’s hand, pointing towards the altar.
Shadows emerging from the cyclone, slithering over flagstones towards the Virgin’s chapel. They formed into tentacles and wrapped themselves around Katherine’s body and pulled. Rochat felt her slipping from his arms.
‘Non!’
He jumped after her and caught her wrists. He twisted around and pounded down on the shadows with his crooked foot.
‘You can’t take her, you bad shadows, this is my cathedral! C’est le guet! C’est le guet!’
The shadows squealed, released their grip, fled into the cyclone.
Rochat pulled Katherine back to him and held her tight as Harper threw off his blanket, grabbed a pillar and rose to his feet. Steadying himself in the raging winds and holding up the lantern.
‘That’s it! Say the words, you need to say the words!’
Rochat took a deep breath and shouted as if shouting from the belfry.
‘C’est le guet! Il a sonné l’heure! Il a sonné l’heure! C’est le guet! Il a sonné l’heure! Il a sonné l’heure!’
A flash of fire exploded in the lantern and slashes of light, brilliant and sharp as lightning, shot from the lantern straight for the heart of the cyclone. The spinning black thing howled and disintegrated into a thousand shadows that shrivelled and faded away, leaving the ancient bones and shattered remnants of Lausanne Cathedral hanging in the air like specks of dust.
Rochat looked at the lantern.
The brilliant light was only a fragile flame on a wick.
Daylight washed through the shattered doors and blown-apart windows.
Rochat tucked the blanket under Katherine’s head. He got to his crooked legs, shuffled towards Harper.
‘I saw you breathe into the fire. You inspired it to do things and chase away the bad shadows.’
‘Me? I was just trying to keep it alive. Wasn’t until you started shouting that it came to life. All I did was get out of the way.’
‘It did that because of me?’
‘Seems so.’
Rochat thought about it.
‘I kicked them and they ran away, like in Tom and Jerry cartoons.’
‘And you kicked them where it hurts.’
‘So are they gone, did we win?’
‘Those were devourers looking for dying souls. The real bad guys will come later.’
‘When?’
‘Sundown, they always come at sundown.’
‘Why?’
‘Because even after two and a half million years of free will, they’re still so fucking predict …’
Harper clocked it.
Twenty-five-metre-deep well, two-point-five kilometres deep in the tunnels of Christ the Saviour and Lausanne Cathedral. Two and a half million bloody years ago, Homo ergaster line of humanoids suddenly stand up. Learn to fashion tools from stones, control fire. Something kicked it off, something made it happen, something inspired the creatures of this place with a soul. He held up the lantern and looked at the delicate flame.
‘Well, what do you know.’
‘Are we imagining something, monsieur?’
‘We are.’
‘Oh. What?
‘We’re imagining why the earth under Lausanne Cathedral is sacred to our kind.’
‘Because of the fire we found.’
‘Not just any fire. You’re looking at the first light of creation, born of the unremembered beginning.’
Rochat studied it.
For the moment it looked like any flame in his lantern. Then he rewound his way through time to when they found it. Coming out of the tunnel into a small cave and seeing the fire burning alone in a tiny stone lamp, on an island in the middle of the source flowing under Lausanne. And the detectiveman said, ‘Bloody hell.’ And then looked at it some more and said, ‘Give us the lantern, mate,’ and Rochat did. But the candle in the lantern was almost burned away and Rochat said, ‘I don’t have any more.’ The detectiveman said, ‘No worries,’ and he watched the detectiveman take a candle stub from his pocket and transfer the flame from the rock to the candle’s wick and carefully reset the candle in the lantern. Then he handed the lantern back to Rochat and said, ‘Whatever you do, mate, don’t drop this.’ And Rochat said, ‘I won’t drop this.’
Rochat blinked back to nowtimes.
‘But where did the fire come from, monsieur?’
‘It came from … from wherever the hell I came from.’
‘Who put it in my cathedral?’
‘Someone who thought my kind couldn’t be trusted with it, I suppose. Looking at the way things turned out for paradise, someone was right.’
Rochat held up the lantern and looked deep into the fire.
‘It’s like the light Maman gave me, isn’t it?’
Harper looked at Rochat’s eyes, seeing the reflection of light.
‘It is at that. And that means you and me, we’re the same in a way.’
‘Really?’
‘Yes. And given that, maybe you should imagine a new place to hide the fire.’
‘Me?’
‘Sure. Your cathedral and all.’
‘I’ll try to think of something.’
The two of them stood side by side. Watching the dust and the dirt, the shattered chairs and the broken doors and shards of glass, the skeletons from the crypt and the stones from the well all suspended and still, high in the hollow space of the lantern tower.
‘I see it, monsieur, but I don’t understand it.’
‘It’s a time wake. Works like a massive stun grenade, establishes the battle perimeter. Wind time back on itself and let it go. Snaps back with considerable force. Good news, the good guys did it. Bad news is they’ve trapped us inside with the enemy.’
‘Why would they trap us with the bad shadows?’
‘All part of the plan, mate. All part of the plan.’
Rochat had no idea what any of that meant.
‘Oh. Is it like this everywhere in Lausanne?’
‘No, just the cathedral. And the locals can’t see it. Not yet anyway.’
Rochat took off his hat and scratched his head. It didn’t help make things any clearer, so he put his hat back on his head and tried to imagine where he was in time instead. He was very sure he could go to beforetimes and come back to nowtimes. But this, this was very new. As if he suddenly found himself stuck in the middle of the two places.
‘So is this betweentimes?’
Harper looked at Rochat. ‘Betweentimes. I like it.’
‘Merci. Do the bad shadows know we took the fire from the cave?’
They walked to the edge of the gaping hole in the crossing square. Rochat held his lantern and they looked down. Their eyes searched through shards of coloured glass, broken bits of wood and skeleton bones suspended in an unmoving spiral stretching down into the well and deeper into the shaft carved through solid rock.
‘I’d say so.’
Harper poked the hanging dust and watched more concentric shapes ooze outward. ‘“Una salus victis nullam sperare salutem.”’
‘Those are the funny words the angel said, from the man she saw in her dream.’
‘They’re from Virgil’s Aeneid. It means the only hope for the doomed is to have no hope at all. It’s another message from the good guys, it means hold on till the time wake shifts a bit and the cavalry can squeeze through.’