Angel Fall

by Coleman Luck

  A few minutes later they turned a corner, and ahead appeared a great, twisted pinnacle of broken glass. Crimson light from the rising moon reflected on a billion grimy shards. Floor upon floor hung in teetering chaos. The whole shattered mass was draped like layers of crystal skin on an iron skeleton that looked as though it had writhed in a dance of death. When Wanderspoon saw it, tears began running down his cheeks. Raising his arms, he cried out in rapture, “My people, I have come back to you. Did I not promise to return and be your salvation? Though vast forces were arrayed against me, I have kept my word. So worship me, for I am greater than the gods.”

  The wagon creaked to a stop in front of the tower. A dozen long stairs led from the street up to a wide plaza beyond which stood a set of splintered doors. But it was an object in the center of the plaza that drew Amanda’s attention. Out of a huge empty fountain rose a gargantuan statue that looked like a shrieking giant. Its fists were raised, and its mouth gaped open as though screaming at the sky. Suddenly Wanderspoon turned and struck a ridiculous pose with his fists in the air and his mouth open.

  “Notice a striking resemblance?”

  “What do you mean?”

  “The statue—it’s me!”

  “If you say so, but why would they make a statue of you?”

  Instantly he went almost insane with rage. “Why? I’ll tell you why. Because I am their prophet, their priest, their king—their savior.” Leaping into the back of the cart, he pointed. “Look at all of them. Look how they scrape and grovel. Look at the flowers they have strewn in my path. Look how they hang from their windows, sobbing with exultation at my return. Listen to their cries of fervid adulation. You can see all this and ask why they would make a statue to me, their god?”

  “You’re delusional.”

  “What?”

  “All I see are broken buildings and all I hear is you.”

  Wanderspoon stared at her aghast. “The crowds—are you blind to the vast multitude all around us?”

  “In your dreams! There’s nobody here but us.”

  “Insanity! Lying, evil monster girl!” Jumping to the ground, he rushed up the stairs. When he was beneath the statue he turned majestically. Raising his arms, he cried out, “Silence. Listen to me, my people. Withhold for a moment your ravishing displays of affection. I must speak to you of horror. There in my royal carriage sits a craven criminal riddled with disease. A burglar, a miscreant, a scoundrel, a stealer of infants, remorseless, pitiless, the lowest form of life. Beyond all hope. Far worse, beyond all therapy. And why have I transported such a monster? Out of nothing but kingly compassion. Though she had broken into my house, I have carried her this long distance to alleviate her suffering. But in what coin does she repay my kindness? With denigration and insults, besmirching the character of me, your one true king.”

  He paused as though listening to the roar of an enraged mob.

  “Yes, yes, I understand your desire to tear her limb from limb, but I urge you to restrain yourselves. Let her own diseased brain wreak the vengeance she so justly deserves. However, in your restraint, do not fail to show your displeasure, to reveal to her darkened mind the glory of my majesty, the godlike magnificence of Pilfius Bordre Wanderspoon.” With that, he made a deep bow, then turned on his heel and strode toward the building. Pushing through the glass doors, he didn’t seem to notice as they fell crashing to the ground.

  Amanda looked down at the baby. “He’s totally insane. He could come back in the middle of the night and kill us. We’ve got to get away.” Desperately she struggled to push herself up, but the pain was so great that she fell back. “I can’t do it.” Looking down at herself, she started to cry. Prickling growths were shooting out of her elbows and knees. And something was sticking from her cheek that was beginning to block her vision. Suddenly the tears turned to anger. “Why did Bellwind send me out this way? She knew I’d never make it. I’m gonna die. We’re both gonna die and nobody cares. I want to go home. I want my mom.” Amanda closed her eyes, and through her tears she whispered, “Just get it over with. Let me die so I won’t hurt anymore. Let me die right now.”

  As she lay, hurting and crying, a soft wind began to blow. Then she felt a strange vibration, and a voice she had never heard before spoke softly. “Stand up, child.”

  Without thinking, she replied, “I can’t.”

  “You can.”

  So odd. Suddenly she wasn’t hurting anymore.

  “Stand up.”

  And Amanda stood up. The movement was easy, but everything felt weird, dislocated.

  “Look down behind you.”

  Turning, she looked. Lying in the cart with the baby in her arms was a girl whose body was slowly transforming into a small white tree. Branches tangled in her hair, and her skin was thick and rough like bark. It took a moment to realize that she was seeing herself from the outside. Then she became afraid.

  “What’s happening?

  The voice answered, “Do you really want to die, Amanda?”

  “Who’s talking? Where are you?”

  “Because, if that’s your wish, I’ll grant it.”

  She grew angry again. “I’m dying whether I want to or not. I just can’t stand to hurt anymore.”

  With great gentleness the voice answered, “So death is what you want?”

  She began sobbing. “No! But I don’t want to live either. I hurt so much, and how am I supposed to get to the mountain if I can’t move?”

  The wind grew stronger, and with it came the sound of distant singing. Once more Amanda felt the overwhelming love that had swept through her in Bellwind’s tower. The voice spoke again with deep emotion. “I have searched for one whose heart could be broken and would not turn cold, because the task is great and the road I travel is filled with sorrow.”

  Suddenly all her anger vanished, and she whispered through her tears, “Who are you?”

  “Do you really want to die, Amanda? Think carefully before you answer. All of your pain can end right now.”

  “What would happen to the baby?”

  Silence.

  “I’ve carried him a long way; I have a right to know.”

  “What is it that you know already?”

  “I know he can’t be left with that evil little man. But look at me, I can’t even move. How can I protect him?”

  “He is safe in your arms.”

  Kneeling beside her body, she looked at the little boy who was sleeping peacefully. “It isn’t fair. I love him so much. I can’t leave him this way.”

  “But what if loving him costs you everything?”

  “I just don’t see how I can get him to the mountain. It’s impossible.”

  “Loving and never giving up is all that matters. Your journey to the Mountain began the moment you were born. You will reach it because the One Who Lives in the Mists has called you. He will make the way.”

  As she looked at the baby, his eyes opened and he looked back at her. “He loves me too. I can feel it,” she whispered.

  “Do you want to live, Amanda? Think carefully before you answer.”

  “I want to live…if it will help him.”

  There was a long pause. When the voice spoke, it was filled with tears. “You have made your choice, and it will be honored forever. Now, see and learn the sorrows of the past, for in them are shadows of what is yet to come.”

  There was a thunderous crash, and suddenly she heard the roar of screaming voices. As she stood up, everything changed. It was daylight, and no longer were the buildings black and broken. They were tall and majestic and glittered in the sun. Thousands of people surged in the street. Thousands more were leaning out of the windows. All were shrieking with rage. But they didn’t seem to realize that she was there. Then Amanda smelled a horrifying odor. Staring at the people closest to her, she almost screamed herself. Their skin was sickly yellow, and they were covered with huge running sores. Their eyes bulged and their hair was falling out. And as far as she could see, everyone was the same
. The city was full of plague. The odor was the smell of dying.

  But none of this was what terrified her the most. As Amanda stared at them, she realized that, because she was outside her own body, she could see inside theirs. She could see beneath their skin. And behind every face a second shadow-face was visible. It was like double vision, seeing the spirit under a mask of flesh and bone. Although their bodies were all different, old and young, men and women, plain and beautiful, the shadow-faces were exactly alike. Every feature that made one person unique from another had been rubbed away as though they had become leprous and grinded and grated and scraped themselves until every mark of individuality had been erased. Their noses and ears had vanished. Their eyes were empty circles of horror. What was left of their jaws hung open as though trying to scream, but all that came out was an eerie mewing whine that sounded like the drone of bees.

  The droning whine and the shrieking—Amanda couldn’t stand it. She was about to close her eyes and cover her ears when the city shook with drumbeats. Instantly the screaming stopped and the crowd waited breathlessly. Then came the rhythmic crash of a thousand marching boots.

  A block away, the crowd parted. Into view advanced an army, and at the front was a golden carriage pulled by white horses. To Amanda’s amazement, standing in it with his fists was a man who looked vaguely like Wanderspoon. But she almost didn’t recognize him because he was young and handsome. The only similarity with the ugly creature she knew was a vague cast of the face and an insane intensity in his eyes. Like everyone else he was covered with disease.

  When the carriage reached the tower, a command rang out. It stopped and the army stopped behind it. Picking up a large covered basket, the man who looked like Wanderspoon jumped to the street, then rushed toward the stairs. As he passed, Amanda realized that she couldn’t see beneath his skin. With him the double vision didn’t work. At the top of the staircase he stopped beneath the statue and turned toward the crowd. There was another command and the army faced him. Then he cried out, “I promised that I would save you. And I have kept my word.” Pulling back the cover on the basket, he held it up for all to see. Amanda gasped. Inside was the little boy she had been carrying. “Healing is ours! Out of death, life will come for us all.”

  Instantly the crowd went insane with joy. Wanderspoon raised his hand for silence. “But I ask you, my friends, why should we share this great gift with others? What have the ancient cities of Boreth ever done for us?”

  The multitude screamed, “Nothing.”

  “And Lammortan, what has he ever done but take our children and tell us lies? Why should we serve him any longer?”

  There were screams of agreement.

  “Then let us overthrow the gods and become gods ourselves. Together we will rule the world.”

  For what seemed an eternity they raved and cheered. But when the sound began to die away, another voice rang out. “You are all fools!”

  Everyone turned to stare, as out of the crowd stepped a beautiful young woman. She was tall and her dark hair hung almost to her feet. Though she was ill like everyone else, in her eyes there was a strange power. And beneath her flesh Amanda could see a being filled with light.

  When Wanderspoon saw her, he shrieked, “You! You dare to come here? If you have something to say…speak before you die.”

  Like a queen going to her execution, the young woman walked up the stairs to face him. Then she cried out, “Do you think this terrible act will save you?” She turned to the crowd. “How many times have you been warned and you have not listened? I bring you the final message. You killed your souls with your evil. And now your bodies will follow. Let the judgment come!”

  Wanderspoon screamed, “How long must we live with the babbling of these false prophets? It is time to silence them forever.” Then he shoved her down the stairs.

  Instantly the mob was on her. Throwing the young woman to the ground, they began beating and stomping. As they pounded and kicked her to death, her face remained utterly peaceful, and the light that was inside grew brighter with every blow. At the moment of dying she looked straight up at Amanda and whispered, “Until Mountaincry.” Then there was a flash of blinding brilliance and the light disappeared.

  The young woman’s broken body was lifted and passed over the cheering mob, her blood drenching those beneath her. With shouts of joy everyone surged forward, desperate for the drops to fall on them. Then Wanderspoon held the basket high and shrieked, “To the sacrifice!” A great cheer went up as he rushed down the steps toward his carriage. There were yells of command and the drums began to beat.

  But just as they were at a fever pitch, Amanda heard a call that made every other sound vanish into silence. It started in a low moan that made the buildings tremble, then it lifted into a bloodcurdling scream. The mob froze. A man pointed and everyone looked up.

  Looming above the skyscrapers was a gigantic bird hanging motionless in the air. Instead of two wings, it had six, and its feathers looked like shards of broken glass dazzling in the sun. And it was staring down with huge flaming eyes. Its beak opened and out of it came another scream. The people turned and ran, shrieking, trampling, clawing each other to get away. But it was too late. The ground began to rise and fall like the waves of an ocean. The pavement cracked into huge fissures. The buildings danced and teetered, then split and crashed. Thousands disappeared beneath the crushing debris.

  From high above there came a wrenching groan. The universe seemed to grow black with boiling mist. Then fire vomited downward. Burning rivers poured from the sky onto the buildings, rolling down the walls, exploding and surging through the streets in mighty waves. Though the agony and destruction were unspeakable, the last thing Amanda saw was the most terrifying of all. As the people died, their spirits twisted out of their bodies and hovered in the air. For a moment they looked around confused as though not knowing what had happened. Then the bird gave a haunting cry, and with agonizing wails, all of them began rising toward him. Quickly they gathered beneath him like a swarm of flies. Then, majestically, the creature turned, his wings began to beat, and he vanished into the smoke. Like a stream of shadows in the fiery sky, a million spirits followed. And in a heartbeat, all were gone.

  Day.

  Daylight.

  Amanda couldn’t move. Everything was a blur. Try as hard as she could, her eyes wouldn’t focus. Her jaw was frozen shut, and she didn’t even have the strength to groan. Suddenly she heard someone climb onto the cart. Then a vague shape that looked like a head bent close, and out of it came the voice of Wanderspoon.

  “There, you see? Just as I predicted. You can’t move and you can’t talk anymore, either. Silent as the forest on a winter night, that’s what you are. And so much the better for me. I won’t have to listen to anymore of your vicious insults. Since you can’t see yourself, let me describe your appearance. In short, you’ve become a deciduous denizen of the thicket. Your skin has turned to bark, and your hair is a mass of dirty little branches. Nasty roots are growing from your feet, and since they aren’t attached to the ground, no moisture can get into your ugly trunk, which means you’ll get drier and drier unless I plant you someplace. But why should I do that when you’re getting exactly what you deserve? Well, from now on it will be a much pleasanter trip for me. Perhaps I shall sing a bit.”

  Humming happily to himself, the little man climbed into the seat, and Amanda felt the cart begin to move. Slowly it rolled and bounced over the broken pavement.

  Light.

  Shadows.

  Darkness.

  Light.

  Shadows.

  Darkness.

  The squeaking axle.

  Wanderspoon’s awful, tuneless gargling.

  Light.

  Shadows.

  Darkness.

  Darkness.

  Darkness.

  Darkness.

  And then slow awakening.

  When she awoke, Amanda was at home.

  24

  THE PINK AND
WHITE ROOM OF TERROR

  Dreams and visions, what are they?

  Dreams come when the body sleeps. Visions come whenever they please.

  Dreams drift away like a morning haze. But a vision is something you never forget.

  And it was a vision that came to Amanda.

  In it, she was lying in her old bed in the old bedroom. The little-girl room. And it was dark, but not the darkness of night. A misty darkness soft in the air.

  Without knowing how, she knew that everything was just the way it had been in the Time Before Time so long ago. The room with the pink walls and the fluffy white curtains. The room she had tried so hard to forget. A different Amanda had lived here, the Amanda who had loved stuffed animals and collected them by the dozens, the Amanda who had sat for hours pretending they were all alive.

  The pretending room—gone forever. Vanished with Amanda the child. But not forever. It was back again. And the animals were back, waiting in a pile in the corner where they always waited until she awoke. Imaginary friends, but not the closest friends. None of the ones on the floor had earned the right to sleep in her bed. Only two could do that: the bear with the broken eyes and the scrunched-up dog with eyes that wouldn’t open—both furless because she had hugged them so much. They had been the hardest to throw away. For a long time she had allowed them an agonizing reprieve. From her bed to the floor, from the floor to the secret place on the garage roof where the rain and snow had obliterated their identities and unnamed them. That’s what she had done. Letting them die had taken their names away. When their faces had disappeared and their seams had broken, she had ripped their stuffing out and tossed it to the wind. So strange. They were back again, resurrected beside her pillow. Old imaginary friends. Instinctively Amanda pulled them into her arms and felt their softness against her cheek. Yes, everything was just as it had been.