The knight banneret who led them, a plumed cavalier carrying the sign of a leprous face on his shield, now smiled with false warmth, and said unctuously, “Beloved friends …”
Peter whirled the hammer and threw it with an angry convulsion of his powerful arm.
The Kelpie-knight did not even bother to raise his shield, but swatted the hammer aside with his palm as if it were an annoying insect. The mighty hammer fell to the grass with a dull noise. One of the other knights shook his head sorrowfully. “Poor, ignorant man! Does he think diseases.can be vanquished with bludgeons? You do not kill a fever by stabbing the patient!”
The knight banneret said; “Beloved friends, the citadel of the chiefs of our high order on the dark side of the moon has been ruthlessly destroyed by one of this house. While we forgive you, it is not right that you should have while we do without. Therefore we intend that you should share your house with us. Is this not simple fairness? In return, we will share the blessings of our diseases with you. Poxes! Plagues! Instruct them in our wisdom!”
Peter gestured; the hammer jumped back into his hand; he threw again; a smiling knight lightly brushed the hammer aside with a small movement of his shield, ignoring it.
With a flourish, and a murmur of polite excuses, the knights lowered their dripping lances, spurred their grotesque horses, and charged.
Lemuel jumped on the back of the wheelchair. Peter screamed at the goats, who spun and raced down the road.
Clouds of dust erupted from the tires of the shuddering wheelchair. Racing horses were to either side of them, half-hidden in the smoke billowing from the flying hoofs of the goat-monsters. The horses, ears flattened, necks tense with veins, yellow teeth bared, galloped at supernatural speeds equal to the goats’. The knights, with condescending smiles on their faces, jabbed with vile spears and lashed out with stinking swords.
One horse leapt ahead, a hurricane of speed, rearing up before them, its rider standing in the saddle, glorious in his armor and crested helm, black blade held high.
The goats trampled him; he smiled as he fell, thankful words on his lips. Tanngjost began to stumble and vomit black blood.
“Through there!” shouted Lemuel, pointing at a line of trees crossing the southwest lawn.
Peter cut Tanngjost out of the traces with a sweep of his hammer. The monster goat, dying, turned and fell upon the pursuing knights, spitting blood and fire, kicking with hoofs like meteors. Two ranks of knights were crushed and burnt before the row behind swept over the falling Tanngjost, whose hair had fallen out, and flesh grown pale, leprous, and corroded.
They passed through the trees, the Kelpie-knights only strides behind them. When the knights encountered the line of the trees, however, they smashed into an invisible wall; some were flattened and others thrown.
There was a single moment while the trees turned sickly, rotted, and fell, and the cavalry passed though the unseen barrier. During that moment the wheelchair had flown to the front gate. The front gate was held against them by a vaster cavalry than they had seen before, including charioteers of obscenely fat blind men, whose cars were drawn by pairs of the rotting, horrible Kelpie-steeds.
They turned again, now pursued on both sides. Lemuel shouted and pointed, “The cabin!” They flew beyond the shrubs that hid the smaller, modern house. There was no time to open the front door; Peter shattered it with a throw from his hammer.
Tanngrisner stumbled, his flesh crawling with sores and boils, his fur peeling off in clumps. The goat-monster fell sideways, and momentum carried Peter and Lemuel, and the wheelchair, over the goat-monster’s shoulder in through the door. They fell and slid across the carpet, yanked out of the wheelchair when the reins around Tanngrisner went taut. The great beast had bent the doorposts, but was too bulky to pass through the frame.
The Kelpie-knights reined in, coming instantly from their impossible velocities to a dead stop. The corroded Kelpie-steeds stamped impatiently, and pulled on their bits.
One knight leaned from the saddle, doffing his helm. He said politely, “May we come in?”
Peter pulled himself, hand over hand, out of the toppled bookshelves of his son’s tapes and recorded music, which he had crashed into. “Dad! What do we do now?”
Lemuel had risen weakly to his feet, and was staring in horror at a tiny cut on the back of his hand. It was the tiniest of cuts; but his wrist was becoming inflamed and swollen, and blisters were visibly growing and crawling down his forearm.
III
At that same moment, there came a great commotion and noise from the east of the little cabin. Two gigantic hands coated with ice plunged in through the east wall, ripped it out of its foundations, and opened that side to the sky.
Bergelmir the ice giant, face hidden behind its featureless mask of ice, raised the wall on high. But it was not attacking those within the cabin; it was facing the other direction, toward the southern forest.
Through the drenching downpour of rain, which was, somehow, on that side of the cabin, Peter could see the forest on fire, and, wading through the burning trees, the flame giant Surtvitnir came, breathing out conflagrations.
At the edge of the trees, walking calmly, dry, untouched by wind, was Raven, son of Raven. There was also a squad of Kelpie trying to close with him, and armed men; but they were being whirled away by the tremendous winds that flattened the nearby trees. The only creatures large enough to stand were the two giants.
Bergelmir threw the wall at Raven. Lightning danced off the ice-giant with no noticeable effect. The tons of brick and masonry fell; a hurricanic wind threw Raven to one side. During that moment, Surtvitnir, his fiery body also unharmed by the lightning, stepped out from the forest fire and stooped toward Raven, raising his burning bludgeon on high.
Peter curved his shot so that the hammer passed through Bergelmir before it sheared off Surtvitnir’s head, and then, coming again back to his hand, the hammer passed through both their falling bodies. One turned to ash and was blown away; the other collapsed into powdery light snow.
The hurricane stopped at a nod from Raven. Peter waited till Raven had come close enough before he spoke. “You killed my son! It’s payback time!” And he drew back the hammer.
Lemuel said, “ … Beware … the wall broken … ward broken …”
The Kelpie-knights dismounted and came in through the door, stepping over the fallen goat.
“You will thank us for this, in time,” said one, raising his sword and coming toward Peter. Another stooped over Lemuel, who had fainted.
Raven said loudly, “Peter, wait!”
Peter glanced at the knight closing with him. He only had one short moment to avenge his son. He threw the hammer.
Galen stepped out from the woods behind Raven and raised his shining bow. He shot.
Suddenly, Lemuel’s daze passed. A sharp warmth stabbed into him. He opened his eyes to stare in awe at the arrow which, touching his freshly healed arm, was transforming into a beam of sunlight. The Kelpie-knight bent over Lemuel, who had just been missed by the shaft, was staring at the arrow, his face slack with guilty fear. In the light from the shaft, the knight looked pale and unhealthy.
The other Kelpie-knights had frozen in shock and shame. One stared toward Galen and shouted, “It’s not my fault!”
That one doubled over the shaft that pierced his midriff, and transformed immediately into a disease-ridden hulk. Two others fell, their wholesome appearance vanquished by the radiant shafts. One sobbed, “We were wrong! It’s not them! It’s us! It was always us!”
Lemuel stood, his heart expanding with pride and happiness to see the heroic figure of his grandson bending the great bow. “Good boy, Galen!” he cried.
At that, Galen, smiling happily, walked forward. He shot, took a step, shot, took a step. Some kelpie ran away; some ran at Galen, brandishing weapons. Galen took an arrow from his quiver and pushed it into his chest over his heart. It became a beam of light, and the kelpie-weapons did not bite on him.
Whether the knights ran or stayed, the result was the same. In a moment, twoscore knights lay helpless on the ground, too disease-ridden and leprous to move.
Galen spoke in a loud voice: “Those who wish to rise, rise up! For you are healed! Those who will not accept my healing, pass away, back into the shadows from whence you came!”
One, their leader, the leper-knight who had killed Lancelot, whispered defiance through his disintegrating mouth, coughing bile. “No! We couldn’t help it! It’s all your fault!” And he passed into a miserable death, excreting his own entrails.
The others slowly rose, their limbs weak but whole, and knelt toward Galen. One said, “We were wrong. We wish to resume the burden of humanity again.”
Galen handed them a handful of arrows. “Go! Heal those you have deluded into believing themselves sick. For the next year and a day you are bound to do them any service they might require of you.” The knights, now human beings, bowed and departed.
He turned. Lemuel was watching him with shining eyes. Lemuel put out his arms.
They embraced.
Lemuel said, “I’ve always been so proud of you, Galen. You didn’t have to prove anything to me.”
Galen felt the bow vibrate in his hand, stiffening, and he let whatever vanity was growing in his mind to relax and go away. Instead of boasting, he said, “This all is my fault. I should have been more careful. I’ll be careful from now on.”
Lemuel looked him deep in his eyes, saying, “Your faults are forgiven; you have saved us both. Grandson, you are a true Guardian of the Everness.”
Peter, sitting nearby, said, “Yeah, he’s right, Son. I’m sorry too, about, well, shit, about a lot of things. A lot of things I said about you wasting your life and stuff, okay? That was a real smooth military operation you just pulled off. And, yeah, I guess I believe in magic nowadays, too.”
Galen straightened up in shock.
“Where’s Raven?” cried Galen.
IV
Peter said, “You know, I’m sure glad I can call that hammer back to my hand before it hits its target …”
“Me, I am also very glad,” nodded Raven, pulling Peter’s wheelchair upright and bringing it over.
There was a rumble of hoofs outside as the riderless horses of the kelpie, now strong and healthy looking, ran with flowing manes and tails, past the broken cabin wall toward the sea.
Peter asked, “So what the hell do we do now?”
And they turned and looked at Lemuel.
Lemuel ran his hand across his bald head, trying to hide his embarrassment. It was clear everyone here regarded him as some sort of wise man.
He resolved to do his best to live up to that expectation. “Galen, shoot those goats; they may not be quite dead, not if their bones are intact. We can use them to uproot any other enemy forces in the area. I think we won’t be getting any other major opposition until sunset; the three outer gods are very weak when the Sun is in the sky. Unfortunately, their governing planets are very strong; all three are above the horizon now. Worse still, Acheron is rising; we would not be seeing the kelpie abroad in broad daylight except that Morningstar himself is very near the earth.”
Raven said, “Does each evil race have a talisman to drive it back?”
Lemuel nodded, “Except Morningstar himself.”
Galen said, “What can we do?”
Lemuel said, “Find the Horn. Blow it. Wake the sleepers. Call an end to this world, and the beginning of the next.”
V
It was Raven who spoke next. “We have not so much time, I fear. Azrael de Gray and Acheron-things, they were all around Mommur, city of Oberon. We saw them fly up like great black cloud. They leave. Galen, he catch kelpie, forced to tell us black legions coming here, Everness. They following Wendy, who we are thinking has the Moly Wand, and has Silver Key. We got here more fast on dream-colt, you see? And dream-colt say horrible thing. Galen, he …” Raven’s voice trailed off and he looked at Galen sadly.
Galen spoke with dignity. “Father, Grandfather, Look behind me. I don’t cast a shadow. I’m a ghost. Unless we can get me my life back, at dawn tomorrow, Apollo has to kill me. They’re giving me this one day, today, as a grace period.”
Peter whispered, “Holy shit. Got to be some way out of that.”
Lemuel hid his reaction. He only said, “Let’s sit down. I’d like everyone to tell me what they know. Let’s coordinate our information.”
15
The Pendragon’s Daughter
I
Wendy woke up. She was lying in a large, four-poster bed. She heard sea-mews calling; overhead, reflections formed moving webs of light which danced across the polished wood of the ceiling.
She sat up. Wendy was in a large chamber overlooking the sea, decorated in four styles; Arabian, Oriental, Viking, Norman. To her left, the window was guarded by Mameluke armor; to the right, by Viking armor; behind her, the bay windows overlooking the sea were watched by a rack of Samurai armor with a scowling faceplate; to one side of the door, before her was a Norman helm, kilt, and chain mail.
The door was open. A long corridor decorated with ship models, with paintings of ships, Neptunes and nautiloids, mermaids and sunken cities stretched away before her. The carpet was navy blue, and the wainscoting was a wood polished till it gleamed like gold. The pedestals and carven archways ranked down the corridor’s length gave it the sobriety and sublimity of a museum.
At the far end, she could see the shoulder and trident of the god guarding the corridor and a glimpse of the white marble floor of the central circular corridor.
“This is Everness,” she whispered. “I never saw it by daylight before! Gosh, it’s beautiful! But I thought it was all blown up and burnt!”
A tall, blond man with a lace cravat and dressed in a long-tailed coat and carrying a covered tray came in from the map room, a room Wendy recalled had been collapsed when the figure of Atlas holding the ceiling had attacked a group of selkie. A wonderful smell came from the tray: bacon, hot chocolate, and buttered toast.
“Hello, Tom,” she said, sitting up. The folds of silk covers, gathered in her lap as she sat, spreading to either side of her along the bed.
“Top of the morning to ye, me darling. The Wizard Azrael, he’s been making to fix up what harms were done here right quick as he may. But he be afar gone now, off in Oberon’s fairy-land a-chasing you. Eat your breakfast up quick! For we must be away from here before Azrael gets home.”
She fluffed the pillows behind her, smoothed the sheet, and set the little legs of the tray to either side of her. She saw she was wearing the green-and-gold princess dress with the puffy sleeves she had had on in Oberon’s court.
Tom removed the tray cover with a flourish, displaying the china and crystal. There was parsley on the omelet and a rosebud in a slim, glass vase.
Wendy picked up a slice of buttered toast from a cute little rack designed just to hold toast. She nibbled on a corner. “Thank you very much! Breakfast in bed!” Now she looked up at him. He had sat on the side of the bed next to her and was staring into her eyes.
She smiled, showing her dimples, and said softly, “And who are you really?”
“Your love, before ye recalled that murderer ye married,” he said, his voice low and husky. “Yer husband, if ye will wed me.” And he leaned down and kissed her.
II
She kissed him back, but without any warmth, and when he put his arm around her shoulder to kiss again, she turned her cheek. “That’s not really an answer, Tom,” she said softly. She touched him gently on the cheek and smoothed the hair above his ear.
“’Tis the truest answer me poor old heart can give, sweet missy,” he said, in low tones. “I fear me I shall not live unless I can know the answer to whether ye will have me. Have all
our days together in King Oberon’s fair court meant nothing, then? The hunts, the jousts, the fetes, and festive days? Why come back here to this tired world of old sorrows, when ye could live forever and a day in the Land of Youth? ’Tis joy, not sunlight, which lights that land for all eyes to see! Ah! Aye, come with me, sweet lass, my darling belle, and I shall make ye a queen of a fine and handsome folk!”
“Mm. Sounds nice. But I only have one question, you handsome hunk.”
“Aye, me lass … ?”
“Where’s my Moly Wand? Where’s the Silver Key?”
Tom straightened up and stepped backward. He licked his lips and raised both eyebrows. “Er … that’s two questions, actually, there, girl.”
Wendy put the tray aside and swung her feet out onto the floor. “You’ve got a cute face. I like it.”
“Er … Thank ye, sweetheart …”
“Who did you have to kill to get it?”
“Ah, …”
She stood, lips pursed, looking up at him, and put her little fists on her hips. “Hmph! As if I wouldn’t figure it out! Men! They think they can get away with anything, don’t they! Well?”
“Well, what?”
“You took the wand away from my hand while I was waking up and still asleep! You’re Mannannan, aren’t you? The Seal-King?”
Tom bowed his head, and put one hand to his throat. His face and body wrinkled and fell away, and he swelled up to his true size.
He seemed to be a burly, huge man, robed in white ermine.
His bushy beard was white and streaked with dots of black, as was his long hair, which fell to his shoulders. His face was round, and his neck-muscles were so thick his head seemed almost to flow smoothly into his wide shoulders. He was one of those rare men who was of wide girth without seeming obese. Beneath his huge stomach and chest were layers of hard muscle.
On his head was a crown of gold, caked with age, but still bright, and little fingers of coral had grown from every point of the crown. A smell of sea brine came from his hair.
Mists of Everness (The War of the Dreaming) Page 20