A Hero's throne tae-2

by Ross Lawhead

  Gemma smiled. “I have a better idea,” she said and turned. As she left the room, Gabe smiled and giggled at the face of the witch pressed up against his window.

  The TV was emitting the sounds of souped-up motor engines. Anthony was oblivious, as usual, to anything other than what was directly in front of him.

  She went into the kitchen and found that the witch was standing outside the kitchen’s French windows. Startled, Gemma took a step backward. She gripped the bottle tighter and moved forward.

  “In the stories,” Gemma said, “the witch-bottle has to be thrown in the fire. The doorstep works as well, but that won’t get rid of you for good.”

  “I think I picked the wrong sibling in this house. I’ll tell you what, why don’t I make you a deal? Come with me, and I’ll tell you all of my secrets. I’ll give you power you would never know otherwise. You’ve obviously got the knack. I will train you to be the mightiest witch in all the land.”

  “I’m curious,” Gemma said. “Do I know you? I mean, are you someone that lives on the street? Someone local?”

  “I’ve seen you many times. Sometimes as often as every day. I’ve watched you grow up.”

  Gemma held up the bottle and pressed the cork in as firmly as she could. In her arms, Gabe shifted and gave a little grunt.

  “In the stories they always threw it in the fire, so that it would burst. I don’t have a fire. But I think this will work.”

  She opened the door of the microwave and placed the bottle on the glass plate.

  “No!” screamed the witch.

  Gemma shut the door, set it to high, and turned the timer, switching it on.

  The witch screamed and writhed outside in the garden, as if she were the one in the microwave. Gemma watched her as she withdrew into the corner. She wrapped her arms tightly around Gabe and then crouched down.

  The witch’s screams became shriller and shriller, mounting to a crescendo as the bottle in the microwave burst.

  Gemma expected a flash of light, and maybe another explosion, but the only thing that happened is that the door swung open and banged against the kitchen wall. Bits of the bottle tumbled onto the counter. Gabe began to cry.

  “What’s going on in there?” Anthony demanded, pausing the DVD.

  “Nothing,” Gemma said, gently shaking Gabe. “Just dropped something.” She went to the window and looked at the body of the witch, lying stretched out in the garden. She was dead, apparently.

  “So clean it up.” The DVD started again; motors revved. “And put Gabe back to bed.”

  “Sure,” Gemma said. She considered what she should do with the body in the back of the house. . Bury it somewhere? That sounded hard, not to mention dirty. Burn it? Drag it around the shed and hide it?

  Then she realised that she didn’t have to do anything. She could just leave it there. It would give her mother a fright in the morning, of course, but then the police would come, take it away, and that would be the end of it. No one would possibly connect the death to a broken bottle and some minor damage to a microwave. She wondered who the witch was. They changed their faces when they were doing their witchy things, and when they were killed their faces turned back-rather like werewolves-that much was a consensus in the stories.

  She took Gabriel back up to bed and then went downstairs again to use the dustpan and brush, unable to stop smiling over the satisfaction of her victory. She looked out the window, and the witch was still on the ground. She would have to wait until daytime to find out who she really was, since she certainly wasn’t going outside now. But if it wasn’t one of the teachers at her school, she was going to be very disappointed.

  II

  “Lies? What do you mean ‘lies’?”

  “You could have gone home-you could always have gone home. But we needed to send you on that quest. We needed to try-we needed heroes.” Modwyn opened up her palms.

  “But we failed. We didn’t kill Gad.”

  “It was not about him-not exactly. We just needed you to survive.”

  “That doesn’t make any sense. What happened to you? What-” Freya looked down at the stone knife that she still gripped in her white-knuckled fist. Her eyes went to the bloodless gap in Modwyn’s own chest. She looked to Vivienne, clearly gobsmacked, and then to Frithfroth, and found him backed against the door frame, a look of near terror on his face.

  She spun on Modwyn and yelled, “What’s going on here? What are you?!” She shook the knife at the beautiful woman who had propped herself up on an elbow.

  “Calm down, now.” Freya felt Vivienne’s hand on her shoulder.

  “No!” She pulled away and looked back and forth between the women. “You tell me what’s going on here. Now!”

  “I–I-truly thought she was dead,” Vivienne said.

  “And I. . was desperate,” said Modwyn tiredly, swinging her legs around to sit up. “Ni?ergeard was invaded. There was only one thing I could do. .”

  “Stab yourself in the chest?”

  “I’m immortal. My ghost wouldn’t have moved on, but it couldn’t stay in my body either. It’s. . a unique situation. I kept them out-I kept them all out, even Ealdstan. I was waiting for you. We all waited for you-for eight years. I didn’t think you’d stay away that long. I thought you’d come straight back.”

  Freya looked down at the stone knife as Modwyn gingerly inspected the gaping hole in her chest.

  Vivienne stepped forward. “Are you all right? Is there anything we can get you?”

  Modwyn shook her head.

  “There is so much you can tell us,” Vivienne said, “so much that is urgent. How were you able to stay here at all?”

  “I killed them. All who would cross the threshold, whose souls were already dark and weak. When I. . removed my soul from my body, I was able to affect the spiritual aspect of. . others.”

  “Are you saying that you took souls out of people’s bodies?” Freya fought to keep her voice level.

  “No. But I could move them on. A soul is like a large rock. If it teeters on the brink, then just a gentle shove can send it into the pit.”

  “Well, this just gets better and better. Thanks for not ‘shoving us into the pit,’ Modwyn.”

  “There was no chance of that. I could feel how you were both different-conflicted. I let you and the other one, the simple one, alone.”

  “The other one? You mean you didn’t know who we all were? You still don’t know?”

  “No, but I am glad you are not with the other-he is simple and twisted inward. A yfelgop, is that right? You came back with one of them? Was the yfelgop escorting you, or you him? Please tell me, it is important to know.”

  “Neither,” Freya said, her frown deepening. “That was Daniel you sensed.”

  “Truly?”

  “I’m afraid so.”

  “That is a pity.”

  “Do you still sense him? Is he still here somewhere?”

  “No. He. . left. I let him go. Once he crossed the boundary of this building, he passed from my perception.”

  “Modwyn. . nider-cwen,” Vivienne said, her tongue catching slightly on the unfamiliar word. “Where is the Great Carnyx?”

  “I am not certain I should tell you-if I knew. I heard you speak of Gad while you were in these walls. Are you not an enemy of Ni?ergeard?” Modwyn stopped and turned to Freya. “Do you not wish destruction to this place and the people in it?”

  “How did you hear me?”

  “It is not for you to know and difficult to explain even if I wished to.”

  Freya shrugged. “I honestly don’t know. I’m beginning to think that this situation is more complex than just a simple either/ or, good/bad situation. Just because I agree with Gad doesn’t mean I agree with what he’s done. I think there might be a way through this all without so much bloodshed, if any. Hopefully not more than has already been spilled.”

  Modwyn smirked. “You have changed from the scared, wide-eyed girl who first arrived here. Perhaps Ealdstan was rig
ht to act as he did.”

  The Rage rolled through Freya like a blast of heat. She leapt forward and slapped Modwyn hard across the face.

  “How dare you,” Freya spit out, clenching the knife and feeling a terrible urge to plunge it back into the queen’s chest. “How dare you put Daniel and me through what you did and not even feel badly about it. We were children!”

  Even in the dim light of the lantern, the pink imprint of Freya’s hand was starting to show against Modwyn’s fine and pale skin. Modwyn lifted one hand, palm down. “I wish you. . to understand why we lied. . the circumstances behind what we did.” She seemed rattled, uncharacteristically discomposed.

  Maybe I’m getting through to her, Freya thought.

  “You’re right. It is a complex problem, and there are more sides than are first visible. And you two were a small part of that. Very small cogs in the big machine. Small, but vital.”

  “There were others,” Freya said. “I saw some of them in a dream. How many were there in total? How many children did you send to their deaths on that dreadful quest?”

  “I do not remember exactly.”

  “That’s monstrous.”

  “You do not share our perspective, the perspective of centuries. All die in time-some sooner, some later. Try to imagine-century upon century, unending years-all the same. And facing more, ever more. Stuck down here, trapped. Locked in a dark box.”

  “You’re right,” Freya said with a fair amount of sarcasm. “How could I be so heartless? Pardon me if I feel no guilt. Are you going to tell us where the Carnyx is or not?”

  “You are agents of Gad. I sensed your allegiances.”

  Freya said, facing her squarely, “You’re not exactly helping to win me to your side. But anyway, Vivienne isn’t.”

  “Blood does not lie.”

  “Blood? What do you mean?” Freya said. “She’s Alex Simpson’s aunt. Alex is one of your people aboveground. I thought-”

  Modwyn’s face was set. Her whole manner, Freya observed now, was in fact one of someone who might be undergoing some sort of interrogation. And Vivienne’s manner-was it deferential or quietly dominating? “What do you mean ‘blood doesn’t lie’?”

  “Freya,” Vivienne said, her mouth twisting slightly, “Gad’s my brother.”

  III

  “You are not dead,” the unknown, imperious figure beside Agrid Fiall assured Daniel.

  “Are you sure about that? I just journeyed through all of creation and spent an evening floating in a disembodied cloud around a field.”

  “You’d be dead if I had any power at all in the matter,” Agrid informed him. “I’ll do everything within my power to make you wish you were.”

  “If you were dead, this conversation would occur somewhere else,” said the unknown elf.

  “Somewhere much more uncomfortable for all of us,” Stowe said grimly.

  “But we’re in Elfland?” Daniel said. “Why am I here?”

  “Because when you were last here, you took something that didn’t belong to you, which you were specifically warned not to do.”

  “No. .” Daniel said. “No, I don’t think I did. I was very careful to-”

  “You took our lives, you empty-headed fool,” Fiall interrupted him. “Oh, don’t give me that look. Certainly our lives aren’t something you could put in your pocket, but did you honestly, seriously think that you could blithely go around killing whomever you pleased and not feel the effects of it?”

  “But the merchant-Reizger Lokkich-he said it would be all right, that I wouldn’t have any trouble going back after I did.”

  Stowe chuckled. “And you believed him?”

  “What about you? I killed you in my world.”

  “Oh, I’m just here for the show.”

  “You will have a reckoning in your world as soon as you have had one in ours,” Agrid said.

  “It isn’t quite as Agrid states it,” the third elf said. “Your actions came at a cost to your soul-and now your soul must pay the price.”

  “Who are you?” Daniel asked, looking him up and down. “I remember Agrid Fiall-Agrid Fiall who wanted to buy me and keep me as a pet-but I don’t remember you.”

  “I was there.” The elf tilted his noble face upward. “I was following behind Fiall to relieve myself. I heard the explosions from the device that slew him-slew him almost instantly-and then you turned your machine at me. One piece of metal hit my chest.” He pulled at his cloak and revealed a white, smooth chest that suddenly warped and contorted before Daniel’s eyes, turning into a livid, diseased, purple-green infected hole. The skin separated in the centre of the ugly whorl and oozed puss and blood.

  “Another,” the figure continued, “struck me here.” He passed a hand across his face and it was transformed to show a gash running from the edge of his chin up to his cheek and over his ear. The sickening discolouration filled the whole side of his face; his eye was blood red, with a completely black pupil.

  Daniel breathed out and looked away.

  “I did not die quickly. I lingered inside my body as they fought to keep it alive-surgeons, herbalists, healers, enchanters-but none of them had any powers over the poisonous metal that had entered my body. It took days, and I myself struggled no less desperately than they, but in the end I gave way to the inevitable and died.”

  Out of the corner of his eye, Daniel saw his face change back to the fine, unmarred, porcelain-like features of a few moments ago.

  Daniel swallowed. “Were you a servant? Or a guard?” he asked. The elf’s bearing, his manner, suggested something regal, and Daniel had already begun to suspect, before the words were even out of the other’s mouth.

  “I was not. I was Prince Lhiam-Lhiat. You assassinated one of the royal line.”

  Daniel winced. “I’m. . sorry?” he said.

  “Are you though? You must think it, I’m sure, but can you say you wouldn’t do it again? Seriously consider that, right now, before you answer.”

  Daniel did think about it a moment. “You’re right, I would do it again.”

  Lhiam-Lhiat smiled and nodded. “You do not lie. Good. I thought you would not be regretful. But tell me why.”

  “Why not? You were evil, all of you, and this world-any world-is better for you not being in it.”

  “Spiteful little pup!” Fiall spat venomously. “I’ll see you regret those words!” He leapt at Daniel, springing high into the air. Trying to twist out of the way, Daniel fell back but was too slow. The enraged elf’s outstretched hands met his chest and Daniel toppled backward. He hit the ground with Fiall’s knees on his chest. He saw hands raised against the evening sky, curled claw-like as they descended, slashing at his face and neck.

  But there was no pain. Or, Daniel also saw, blood. Fiall’s fingers just bounced off of him with no effect or damage to either of them. When he realised this, he just laid back and let Fiall impotently continue. Fiall’s rage gradually fell from him and he stopped. Daniel shifted his weight, pushed Fiall off of him, and then stood. Fiall was on one side of him, Lhiam-Lhiat and Stowe on the other.

  “That was fun. I guess. Is that what this is, then?” Daniel asked. “I’m going to be haunted by you and shown the error of my ways? Have a miraculous change of heart and find enlightenment? Are you going to show me my past, present, and future so I can see what a ruthless monster I am? Will you take me on a tour of all the lives I’ve destroyed because of my actions and reveal the connectedness and nobility of life? That might be entertaining. Go ahead, bring it on, because you’re right, I’m not sorry, and I would do it again. I’m not an idiot. I know what I am. You think I don’t? You think I haven’t thought long and hard about what I’ve done, what I’ve set myself to do? I’m not some selfish, unexamined soul!” Daniel said, his voice rising. He drew his sword. “I’m a hero! So bring it on! I’ll take you and the whole universe on! Win or lose, I don’t care. I’m fighting on the side of good! It may not always be pleasant, but it is always right!”

  Dan
iel stood opposite the two tall, gaunt, marble-like apparitions, his eyes blazing. He felt the electric fire of righteousness racing though him. Lhiam-Lhiat was smiling at him in that smug, self-satisfied way of his. Fine, let him keep smiling. Daniel wasn’t a man to be intimidated by that. But. . Agrid Fiall was also smiling, the exact same smile-and for some reason that rattled him.

  The sky seemed to be growing darker.

  “Do you know,” Fiall said, “I do believe I’m going to enjoy this far more than I previously imagined.”

  “This isn’t a lesson,” Lhiam-Lhiat said to him. “This isn’t forgiveness or an atonement-those rules work differently in this place. This is punishment, pure and simple.”

  There was a twisting feeling in Daniel’s gut. The righteous fire of defiance inside of him faltered slightly. “Torture? Doesn’t matter, I’ll get through it somehow. I’ve got friends here, and in other places. They’ll find me and rescue me. I can hold out until then. I can survive. I can escape.”

  “Can you run?” Fiall asked him.

  “What?” Daniel asked.

  Fiall’s eyes shifted to look behind Daniel, and Daniel turned. Behind him, the sun had been setting; minutes ago, deep reds and golden yellows lit the sky. Now the cold, purple expanse of twilight filled the air above him, and on the horizon-dark. But it wasn’t the dark that was an absence of light; it was the horrible, running darkness that chases after you in nightmares. It was darkness that had an edge to it-and a sharp edge, with teeth and claws. Although it was still a far ways off, and only flickering slightly, Daniel knew with the untold certainty of a nightmare that the darkness was alive, and angry, and coming after him.

  “What is that?”

  “When you were a child, were you ever afraid of the dark? It was because you had not forgotten the realm that came before existence. That is Night.”

  “What does it want?”

  “You. Forever.”

  Daniel started running. He ran as fast and as long as he could, which was considerable, since he didn’t tire here, but he couldn’t outrun the turn of the planet.