Standing Between Earth and Heaven

by Douglas Milewski

  Near the promontory, Ebon paused again. “I’ll go in alone. I’ll come back when I’m done.”

  Again, Maran waited in the car. She put her hands over her head every time she heard a shot. This time, there were many shots. They snapped fast and grim. After a while, they stopped, only to start again, then stop. Eventually, Ebon emerged again, carrying one of the featherhead’s guns, and knocked on the window. “I’m all done, my digging friend. Come see what I found.”

  Maran exited the car, completely unsure of what she would find. Would there be bodies? Blood? Or would there be nothing? What happened to the dead in this place?

  What Maran found was a featherhead still twitching. It lay there near the door. Behind it, on the wall, Maran saw its blood sprayed across the bricks. Apparently, the thing could move nothing but its eyes. It looked at Maran, and Maran knew. She just knew it wanted to end.

  “He’s not dead,” said Maran.

  “I know,” said Ebon. “They seldom die quickly. If you shoot a deer, it runs, and you may spend days following it. Death is rarely a quick thing.”

  Maran now needed to decide how to do this. She could not bear the thought. “Kepi, you do it. Kill the featherhead.”

  Kepi rushed in, grabbing the bird-person by the neck and shaking hard. The spinal cracks were audible. The featherhead stopped breathing. Its eyes lost their luster.

  “So that is how you do it,” said Ebon. “I always wondered. Now I know. It was obvious.”

  That comment relieved Maran. Her forebears were not so heartless as she had feared. They were people of merciful death, which was a concept Maran had barely even suspected existed.

  “Come inside, mon ami, and see more.”

  Ebon opened the wooden door with many glass panels in it. One of those panels was cracked and broken around a circular hole.

  At the base of the lighthouse was a little building. Inside, Maran found Siberhaus curled up in the back of a dog cage. He looked feral. Outside that cage were many poking implements. The featherheads had clearly played cruel games with Siberhaus.

  “He does not listen,” said Ebon.

  Maran approached the cage gently. Siberhaus made no response. Gently, Maran lifted the latch that held the cage door shut. With a click and a rattle, Maran opened the cage.

  “Come out,” said Maran.

  Siberhaus did not respond. His eyes did not move except for blinking.

  Maran opened the door further. “I’ll leave the door open. Come out when you feel safe. I’ll get you to the Iron Duke. I promise.”

  Siberhaus did not meet her eye.

  Maran backed away. “He’ll come out in his own time.”

  “There is more, and it is more important,” said Ebon.

  Through another door, they entered the well of the tower. Sitting there were two Astrean women in front of three moving picture boxes. Each stared blankly into one of the screens. One watcher was Altyn. Another was Tavan as she must have looked before she was burned. The final watcher was missing. That screen showed the inside of a small shack, along with bottles and a machine filled with letters and numerals.

  Ebon asked. “So, how do we release them?”

  Maran shrugged. “I don’t know. Turn these off, I guess. How we do that? I don’t know.”

  Ebon took one of the featherhead’s tin guns, aimed it at the screens, then fired short bursts of bullets them, causing tremendous pops as each screen exploded into shards. Maran hid her eyes from the flying glass. When she looked back, both the Astrean women were gone.

  Maran suddenly realized how stress-filled she had been, for now she felt her burden leave. “I guess they are released now.”

  “I supposed so, if they want to be released.” Ebon shrugged.

  “What do you mean by that?”

  “Bad gods are bad friends that do not easily leave you. I should know. I followed them once. I was the faithful servant of Brenin Du Mawr, king of Knessex and Lord of Lagan Keep. It was only the Prophet who led me right, the Prophet who still lives in my heart, and the Prophet who still keeps me straight, even if he is dead. But for him, I would run back to them, to the Oathbreakers, even now. But for the Prophet, I would be one of them.”

  “I didn’t know that. How did that happen?”

  “Does it matter? He’s dead, too, and his lands are still there, unmercifully forgotten. Perhaps we should forget old things and move to new ones? Let the winter be the winter, and let the spring be the spring.”

  Maran understood the woman’s request. Looking at the chairs, she came back to the question in her mind. “We saw Altyn and Tavan. That leaves Imeni here, but she’s not here. If this was Imeni’s chair, where is she? Is she alive or dead?”

  “How should I know?”

  “Kepi, Imeni sat in this chair. Can you find her?”

  Kepi sniffed the chair for a while, then sniffed about some more. Kepi walked out a bit, then walked to the doorway and waited.

  “I suppose we have to follow her. Can you drive me some more?”

  “Yes. We have to drop your friend off anyway. Let’s clean this place up first. The dead can wait.”

  Ebon unloaded the guns, tossing them into a bag she found somewhere. She tossed the bag into the nose compartment in her car.

  Meanwhile, Maran pulled the featherheads corpses out and piled them. “Time to give the White Lady her due,” said Maran. “What to do with you? The turtles can have you. Maybe that’s a literal saying here, and not just a figure of speech.” This was not something Maran wanted to do, but it needed to get done, even if there was an entire ocean out there. One by one, Maran tossed the bodies into the waves. Incongruously, even as she tossed the first corpse, a turtle steamed towards the lighthouse, belching black coal smoke. It paddled up to the shore on its flippers, then consumed the featherheads.

  While it ate, Maran petted the featherhead’s car. It had suffered as well, looking at Maran with its damaged front. With one headlight gone, it was one-eyed thing. She would have mercy on it, too. Getting the car to move was hard, but she eventually figured out which things to twist to make it start. Maran drove that car forward onto the beach as well, only stopping when the waves lapped its tires. The turtle made a happy sound, then ripped the vehicle apart with its iron jaws. Its life flowed out in oil onto the water.

  Maran stood away. Ebon walked up to her. They both watched in rapt curiosity as the turtle devoured the engine.

  “What do you know about those turtles?” asked Maran.

  “Nothing,” said Ebon. “Who does?”

  “I would think that everyone knows about them.”

  “No. I don’t know about most things. When you come here, everything is new and you have many questions. Eventually, you grow old, accept this place as it is, and forget what you don’t know.”

  One day, Maran told herself, she would figure out those turtles. Maybe the turtles destroyed you, or maybe they just took you to Endhaven the long way. Maybe they even belonged to someone. Or maybe she would just accept them and stop wondering.

  Maran turned her back on the ocean, hoping that the waters did not take that opportunity to attack. They did not.

  Maran returned to Siberhaus and his cage. He was still inside, pushed up against the back corner.

  “Come out, sir, we’re going out again. We need you.”

  “That sound,” moaned Siberhaus.

  “That’s the ocean, sir. We’re leaving it. Come with us and leave the ocean behind.”

  “You’re in cahoots with them, filthy cockroach. I knew you would betray us. Stay back. Stay away. I will divulge no secrets.” Siberhaus attempted to wedge himself even further back into his corner.

  Maran looked to Ebon for help, but Ebon shrugged. She motioned gracefully with her thin hands. “This is your problem, not mine. I can’t help you.”

  What now? Maran could leave without Siberhaus, just to hurt him, but her conscience did not like that. She felt obligated to try, and she also felt obligated to succeed. So f
ar, her perseverance had served her well, so perseverance would be her friend.

  “Sir, I am going to the Iron Duke. Will you come with me to the Iron Duke?”

  Siberhaus refused to meet her eyes. “That is a trick. A lie. A deceit. I know the Red Lady. You cannot fool me.”

  “I’m not trying to fool you, sir. I’m going to the Duke. I don’t need to know any of your secrets. I can just go to the Duke and he’ll tell me anything that I ask. Why do I need your secrets?”

  Siberhaus remained silent at that.

  Maybe he needed proof? Maran went back to the car and retrieved her shovel. She showed it to Siberhaus. “Do you see my shovel? Here, look at it.” She slid it towards him.

  “What of it?”

  “Look who made it.”

  Siberhaus cautiously looked, then picked up the shovel and examined the marks. “This is a fake. The Duke would never make such a thing.” He tossed the shovel back out the cage.

  Something in Maran got tired of the game. He was acting like a pouty child. Maran knew how to handle a pouty child. “I’m done with you. You can come out on your own, or I will turn this cage over and dump you out. It’s your choice.”

  “You will not fool me.”

  With no more words, Maran walked to the back of the cage and grabbed onto it. With a big push from her legs, Maran flipped that cage over, sending Siberhaus tumbling to the floor. She then lifted the cage off of him, hurling it away. Without speaking, she picked up her shovel and walked out of the lighthouse.

  Maran yelled back in. “I’m off to see the Iron Duke. You can come or not. Trust me or not. You can stay here at the ocean. It’s your choice.”

  “We drive?” asked Ebon.

  “We drive. It’s his choice.”

  They let themselves into the car. Still Siberhaus did not appear. Ebon turned on the vehicle, and still Siberhaus did not appear. Ebon made the car move, crunching down the sandy lane and Siberhaus appeared. He ran down the lane waving his hands amid the waving grasses.

  Ebon stopped the car. Maran got out.

  “Into the back,” said Maran. With enthusiasm, Siberhaus climbed in. Maran settled herself back into the front seat. Kepi climbed onto her lap.

  Ebon drove south, moving away from the terrible ocean, back onto lanes of black.

  They drove up the coast a while, passing by fields and farms. Had she visited here before? Some places seemed familiar, as if she had dreamed about them before, but she could not say which dream. In their way, they were like all dreams.

  Maran realized where they were when they rounded a point and she looked across the water to the Steel City. They approached quickly from the north, which defied common sense, as so much of this place did.

  Ebon eked them through the town, past many more damaged places. Cars moved quite slowly. Maran found that they crept along more than they drove. The battle itself seemed to have ranged all over the city, terrible destruction appearing at random intervals. At least the worst fires were out. The damage increased as they approached the Iron Duke’s forge. Houses there were flattened. No buildings remained standing near the forge. The only reason that the road was open at all was that large machines were pushing the debris into piles.

  This battle must have been far more terrible than first one. Judging by how long that tornado had stayed near the forge, the damage should have been worse.

  On finally seeing the gate, Ebon stopped the car.

  “I am not going any further,” said Ebon. “I don’t care. I am not going near there. You can get out here and walk.”

  Maran opened the door, letting Kepi out, then letting herself out. “This is terrific. Thanks.”

  Siberhaus emerged as well. He howled in delight, then dashed for the gates. Maran breathed a sigh of relief, closing the door. “We did it.”

  Ebon talked through the car to Maran. “Don’t be a stranger. If you need a ride, just call. Tell the hello girl you want the Knackery. She’ll get you through. Ask for me.”

  “I will.”

  “And one more thing. Figure out who you’re working for.”

  “I have,” said Maran. “I have.”

  Ebon waved, then turned around, driving off slowly and surely.

  Maran turned back to the forge, then remembered something. “Oh, crud, I forgot my shovel.”

  Kepi barked a few times, then went dashing off after Ebon. Maran called to Kepi, but then stopped. She did not need the dog. Kepi was supposed to take her to find Imeni, but she had had a long time to think about that in the car ride.

  This place of dreams seemed wrapped quite tightly. Everything seemed to have its place, and nothing existed without meaning, even if you did not know what that meaning was. What remained dangling here was Jack’s girlfriend, the crow, the unburied dead. Who was she? There was only one answer left. She had to be Imeni.

  Maran walked through the gate, aiming for Jack’s shack. She rapped on the door as hard as she could.

  “Jack! Jack!”

  After several minutes, Jack opened his door again. “What? Can’t a man sleep?”

  “Jack, where is she? Where is that crow woman?”

  “What do you want her for?”

  “Who is she, Jack?”

  “She’s a crow. What do you care?”

  “What’s her name?”

  “How should I know? I don’t ask names.”

  Maran pushed inside the little shack, knocking aside bottles. She rushed to the woman on the bed, lying so still. “Imeni? Is that you, Imeni?”

  The crow looked toward Maran, a flicker of something in her eye, a moment of humanity.

  “I’m going to find your bones, Imeni. I’m going to find them. I will bury you. Just tell me how you died.”

  The woman thought a moment or two, then muttered in a faraway voice, “Them. Them everywhere. White bugs. They are coming for me. I must hide. I must hide under. I must hide myself away. They must not get me.”

  Imeni fell silent. She stared ahead again, saying nothing more.

  Judgement of the Choir

  Maran woke. The world now felt unsteady, swaying gently beneath her. Reality pushed into her mind, much like mud pouring into a pond. The crystal clear waters clouded, losing what perfection they might have had. By reaching in and trying to hold onto that moment of clarity, Maran’s hands and feet riled up the mud even more quickly, chasing that clarity away.

  The dream world slipped away, already distant even as Maran struggled to hold onto what she had done and what she had seen.

  Trying to sit up, Maran failed. Her body failed. Her soul had forgotten this world. To even begin sitting, she had to roll over onto her face, then push herself onto her hands and knees. Even that proved too much. The world here seemed heavier. Maybe it was heavier. Was there a word for that?

  Next, Maran had to build enough self-will to leave the tent, and that seemed another overwhelming hurdle. Through the flaps, sunlight pushed in. Maran still feared that light. She knew how much it hurt her eyes. Given her choice, she would never go through that flap. She would stay here. Yet, she could not stay here. In here there was nothing. Out there was everything. Out there is where she needed to go.

  Maran crawled forward and exited Osei’s tent. She blinked a bit, expecting pain, but her eyes adjusted to the mid-morning sun. The air felt wonderful. The storm brought cooler and dryer air from the north. A cool wind blew across the river, as it should this time of year. The heat wave was over.

  Everyone looked toward Maran, and everyone smiled. Altyn smiled. Altyn Tag smiled a genuine smile, from her heart, deep happiness pouring through her eyes. She smiled and could not stop smiling. The mere knowledge that she was smiling made her smile even more. She had a decades of smiles to catch up on. She smiled so much that she hid it with her hands.

  “You are back,” said Altyn. “Thank you. I cannot describe this. Thank you. I am … I am at an utter loss for words. I can’t … You know. You know exactly.”

  Maran did know. The worl
d had color. How could she forget such wonderful color? In her dream, the world was like chalk on paper, but here she had color like paint laid thick on a board, with a brush dipped heavily in each color, mixing all those colors together into overwhelming and wonderful streaks.

  How could she forget that this world was so wonderful?

  Osei took up his pole, pushing the boat gently around. He caught Maran’s eye as he walked along the decking. “Thank you,” he said quietly. “I have never seen her smile before.”

  Maran enjoyed smiling, too. She had forgotten to smile over the last few days. She certainly felt less grouchy. In fact, she felt far more like her old self, and that felt pretty good. Her heart could now enjoy the sun on her face and the wonderful weather. No more storms. No more tornados.

  Recalling the tornado wiped the smile from Maran’s face. What horrors had that caused? The tornado had looked like it had landed between the forge and the court, which would put most of the damage between Groppekunta Street and Shuffle Dog. Those sections of the outer city were entirely hidden behind the forge. The only thing that she could see was a mound rising behind the forge, which looked like an enormous ash pile. Was that the Beehive? If it was the Beehive, every house on it was gone. All that remained was the rubble itself, and even that pile seemed smaller.

  With that many houses destroyed, how many were dead? Maran could not fathom it. Were those deaths on her hands? Was she responsible? What would Justice think?

  A clunk disturbed Maran’s contemplation. Something landed near her feet. Looking down, Maran saw a folding shovel painted green. It was her shovel, with a very proud Kepi standing over it, tail wagging.

  Maran knelt down, petting that doggie on her head. “Kepi, you brought me my shovel! You are such a good doggie. Yes, you are. I never expected to have that here. Now I do. What a surprise. Do you know what, dog? I’m going to need this. There are dead people out there who need burying. I have more work to do than my soul can bear. I must accept some of this guilt.”

  Kepi said nothing. She never did.

  Altyn took notice of Maran. “I see you have a shovel now,” said Altyn. “Out of thin air, it seems. Does that mean that you are done being a cook?”