Angel Fall

by Coleman Luck

  Sobbing, but sobbing with happiness. Sobbing with unspeakable joy.

  “Stand up, child.”

  Amanda jumped up. She wanted to run and sing, but she stood in front of the man whose face she couldn’t see. His arms encircled her. She buried her face in his chest, and all she could say over and over was, “Forgive me, forgive me, forgive me…for throwing you away with the bear and the dog.”

  Gently he whispered, “Daughter, now you are ready. Awake and be strong.”

  Swirling streaks of crimson and gold. Swirling mists of fire. So soft. And in them, the pink and white room of terror and sorrow faded from her heart.

  25

  ESCAPE

  That’s a skull. I don’t like skulls.” Tori was staring at the pile of bones and dirt on the chair.

  “It can’t hurt you.” The moth was sitting on her shoulder.

  “And look at that.” On the wall above the chair loomed a huge stained-glass window. Suspended in it was the image of the regal-looking woman with the terrifying face. “That’s the one who was sucking on the bottle.”

  “During the day the Painter keeps the spirits of his slaves frozen in glass.”

  “You mean she’s alive up there?”

  “Well, a kind of living. There’s no reason to be afraid. I’m taking care of you.”

  “Yeah, right.”

  “And just exactly what does that mean?”

  “You’re a bug. If she comes down what can you do, fly up her nose?”

  “I assure you that if I chose to do so, her nostril would never be the same. However, she is blind and deaf until nightfall—unless you make a lot of noise. Any disturbance will cause the Painter, who sees through her eyes, to know that you are here, which would precipitate a distinctly undesirable conclusion.”

  “You’re sure they never come down before night?”

  “Almost never.”

  “Almost?”

  “Lammortan is weak right now. His body is in a kind of prison. He doesn’t want to waste his power. His slaves can’t stand the daylight. It burns their strength away, and it’s up to him to keep them alive. Since he has been in prison, only once in all the centuries has he sent them out when the sun was shining.”

  “Why did he do that?”

  “A year ago two of them traveled to your world to look for the thing that had been hidden. But it cost him a great deal of energy.”

  “Did they find it?”

  “Yes, but one of the Worwil stopped them, so now they’re desperate. It’s time to go. Do you see those doors at the back? Go through them.”

  Hurrying through the doors, Tori found herself in a sweltering corridor. The walls were covered with paintings that dripped with mold. The moth began fluttering ahead.

  “Why is it so hot in here?”

  “Have you ever had a fever?”

  “One time when I had the flu.”

  “This building is full of disease. That’s why it’s so hot.”

  “Why are there so many pictures of kids?”

  “Lammortan likes to remember his sacrifices.”

  Suddenly she began smelling something horrible. “Peeeeuuw, what’s that?”

  “The dining room.”

  “It smells like poo.” The odor got worse until they were outside a pair of ornately carved doors. As they hurried past, she held her nose. “If that’s the dining room, why does it smell so bad?”

  “The Painter can read your mind. He takes all the ugliest, most disgusting thoughts inside your head and paints them into imaginary food. Then he feeds it to you and makes you think you’re eating a delicious meal.”

  “But it’s really eating poop?”

  “If that’s what’s in your mind, then that’s what’ll be in your mouth.”

  “What do they drink, pee?”

  “He calls it sweet wine.”

  “Ewww. Has my brother eaten in there?”

  “You’ll have to ask him about that.”

  “Where is he?”

  “We’ll be there soon.”

  “How’d he get in this nasty place?”

  “He landed in the ocean in a raft. But he was alone. When he got to the shore he chose a road that brought him here.”

  “Why doesn’t he leave?”

  “He tried, but he can’t. He’s become one of the Painter’s slaves.”

  “Like the things in the windows?”

  “Almost.”

  “But we can save him, right?”

  “If he lets us. He’s very ill. We’ve got to take him to a place where he can get help.” Mirick fluttered to a grimy door and landed on the knob. “Okay, this is it. He’s in this room. But you’ve got to be ready for what you’re going to see because your brother is in between.”

  “In between what?”

  “The living and the dead. His body isn’t dead, but it’s dying, so part of him is trapped in a window and part on a bed. It’s not pretty. When we go in, don’t try to wake him. And one more thing. When he does wake up, I’ve got to stay hidden.” The moth fluttered to her shoulder and his light went out.

  “Why?”

  “Because his mind belongs to Lammortan and he’ll think I’m an enemy.” He crawled into her hair.

  Tori winced. “Not this again.”

  “Yes, this again. Here’s what you have to do. Whatever I whisper in your ear, you tell him exactly that. Do you understand how it will work?”

  “I think so. Just don’t start tickling.”

  “Heaven forbid that I should do that. Now, go in quietly.”

  Easing the door open, Tori slipped into the room and stared in amazement. On a wall loomed a massive stained-glass window, and in it was the stupidest thing she had ever seen. It was supposed to be an image of her brother, but gone was the sloppy slouch and the half-snarling smirk. The stained-glass version of Alex stood with his shoulders thrown back and his chin jutted forward as though a steel rod had been shoved up his spine. Sunlight shone through dumbly fearless eyes, and on his mouth was plastered an idiotic grin as though he had been quick-frozen in a drug-induced stupor. And then there were his clothes. He was dressed in grime-slimy jeans and a T-shirt slick with greasy filth that had been rendered in excruciating detail. Adding to this grandeur, around his shoulders hung a cape made of rat skins, their flattened little bodies exquisitely created from tiny chips of gray glass. The entire image made Alex look like the brain-dead king of Sewer World. But then Tori looked down and almost screamed in horror. Beneath the window was a bed and on it lay a filthy shadow wrapped in skin. Alex’s eyes were open, but there was no life in them. They were sunk in a face so gaunt that it looked like a skull. His greasy hair lay matted; his shirt was off, and rivulets of gray filth ran down his bony chest. Walking over to him, she began to cry.

  “All right, I admit this is a bit more than repugnant,” Mirick whispered. “But if you want to help him, stop making those snuffling sounds.”

  “He looks dead.”

  “Well, he isn’t. Now find a place to sit. We’ve got hours to wait before the sun sets.”

  Tori looked around the room and froze. On a wall behind her she saw the picture frame. Its glass was gray and empty. “That’s like the one…”

  “Don’t worry. It can’t hurt you.”

  “Are you sure?”

  “The Painter can’t see you until your brother awakens. But if it makes you feel better, go pull the curtain and hide it.”

  After cautiously doing this, she sat down on the floor and leaned against the bed. For a long time she stared at the curtain. Finally she fell asleep.

  Wake up.”

  Tori’s eyes flew open. Sunlight was fading and the shadows were growing deep. Mirick was still in her hair.

  “Stand up and watch the window.”

  Something was happening. As the sunlight faded, the colors began to drain from the glass and form a mist in the air. For a moment they hung in a watery blur, then suddenly there was a cracking sound, and a streak of brilliance f
lashed down into Alex’s body. There was a sucking gurgle and his chest heaved.

  “All right, get ready. The next part is going to be singularly unattractive.”

  With a muffled shriek Alex lurched and every muscle in his body went rigid. Then he began thrashing. A mass of drooling spittle erupted from his mouth and covered his chin.

  “He’s choking.”

  “He’ll be fine. He’s just getting put back together.”

  Shuddering to the edge of the bed, he flopped to the floor and landed on his face. Tori rushed over and bent down. Mirick whispered, “Don’t do or say anything until he looks up at you.”

  Slowly Alex quieted, and with a grunt he opened his eyes. Seeing his sister’s shoes, he twisted his head and squinted up at her through a blur of mucus. “What…?”

  She knelt and hugged him. “Alex…”

  “What’s this? Who’re you?”

  “I’m Tori.”

  “Tori…?” He tried to rub the mucus away, but his vision wouldn’t clear. “You’re not Tori. Go’way and leave me alone.”

  “I am Tori.”

  “No, you’re not. You’re just a dream.” He laid his head back on the floor.

  Mirick whispered, “Get him up. There isn’t much time.”

  She looked at the curtain. It was moving as though in a slight breeze.

  “Alex, get up. We’ve got to get out of here.” She pulled on him. Nothing. Then she pinched him hard.

  “Ow, stop that.”

  “I’m going to keep doing it until you get up.” She pinched him again.

  “I said, stop it.” He struggled to his knees. “Will you leave me alone?”

  “We’ve got to get out of here before they all wake up.” When he was on his feet, she began dragging him to the door.

  “This is a dream. I know it.”

  “I don’t care what you think it is, just move.”

  Stumbling into the hall, he almost fell, but she caught him. Then she began pulling him down the corridor. After a few moments he stopped and stared at her. “Wait a minute. Who are you?”

  “I’m Tori, you jerk. We’ve got to get out of this horrible place.”

  “If you’re Tori, how’d you get in here?”

  “I’ll tell you later. Now would you come on?”

  “There’s no way out. I’ve tried.”

  “Somebody’s gonna help us.”

  “Like who?”

  Mirick whispered to her what to say.

  “He’s here, but you can’t see him,” said Tori.

  “What?”

  “He’s sort of invisible, but not quite. You’ve got to trust him or you’ll die.”

  “This is some kind of trick. I don’t even think you’re really my sister. I told Melesh I don’t want any more games.”

  Tori kicked him in the shins as hard as she could.

  “OW!”

  “Does that feel like a trick?”

  At that moment a strange, shrieking roar came from far down the hall behind them.

  “They’re awake.” Mirick whispered urgently. “Tell him if they catch you they’ll kill you.”

  “Alex, they’re coming and they’re going to kill us. Now let’s go.” The sound was growing louder.

  “I told you, there’s no way out. This is a stupid waste of time.” But he let her grab his hand and together they began running. With Mirick whispering directions, they rushed down reeking corridors, through mold-choked rooms, then up and down a series of slippery staircases. After that, on and on, constantly running, climbing, descending in what felt like meaningless zigzags, with Alex complaining every step of the way, while the shrieking behind them grew louder. Finally they burst through a door and stopped cold. They were inside a small room; on the wall hung an ancient lantern, and from it came a dismal flicker just bright enough to show that they had come to a dead end.

  “This is it? This is where your invisible friend has been taking us? Well, it looks like the game’s over,” Alex sneered. The roar was very loud in the corridor they had just left. “But there’s nothing to worry about. Everybody in here thinks I’m some kind of god, and they’ll do whatever I want. So if you’re really Tori, when they get here it’d be a good idea if you were kneeling and worshiping me. Then everything will be fine.”

  “Tell the little ‘god’ to pick up the lantern,” Mirick muttered.

  “Pick up the lantern.”

  “What?”

  “Pick…up…the lantern. Are you deaf?”

  “Why should I?”

  Jumping two inches from his face Tori shrieked, “Pick it up, you ass!”

  “All right! But you’re going to be sorry for calling me that.” He grabbed the lantern from the hook. Instantly there was a deep grinding rumble. Then the floor started tilting and a crack appeared across the bottom of the opposite wall. As they struggled to keep their balance, the floor tilted more and the crack yawned wider. They began slipping toward it. Yelling, they slid through and began sliding with unbelievable speed down a stone ramp as smooth as oiled glass, down thousands of feet in huge circles it took them until it felt like they would slide forever. Finally they tumbled out onto the floor of a cave, and there they sat, dazed and breathless. And the lantern was still burning.

  Alex groaned, “I bashed my shoulder. Where the heck are we?”

  Mirick whispered in Tori’s ear, “There’s a big hole in the wall. Go through it and you’ll find a tunnel. Hurry!”

  Jumping up, she grabbed the lantern. “Come on.”

  “Where’s your stupid invisible friend taking us now, to the dungeons?”

  Beyond the hole was a corridor. They had gone a hundred yards when a strange object appeared up ahead.

  “What’s that?” Tori raised the light.

  They approached cautiously. In the gloom soared the stern of a long narrow boat. Once it had been painted in bright colors, but long ago they had faded to a rusty brown. Alex stared at it. “It looks like a Viking ship.”

  “Climb in,” Mirick whispered.

  “He says, climb in.”

  “Why?”

  “I don’t know. Let’s just do it.” She struggled to get over the rail. “Help me, Alex.”

  Lifting her, he groaned and swore. “My shoulder’s really screwed. You know, we haven’t escaped anything, we’re just deeper in the mountain.”

  “Get in.”

  Throwing a leg over the side, Alex dragged himself up and flopped to the floor next to her. The deck was empty except for a long box sitting in the middle.

  “Okay, now what’s that? It looks like a coffin.” He went over to it and bent down. The lid was ornately carved with words in a strange language.

  Mirick whispered, “Find the flower and lay your hand on it, then tell him to open the lid.” Joining her brother, Tori began searching.

  “What are you doing?”

  “Looking for something.” At one end of the box she found a carved flower, and in the center was the outline of a hand exactly like hers. Carefully she placed hers over it. “Now, open the lid.”

  Grasping the wood, Alex pulled and the lid creaked opened. Tori held up the light and both of them stared—lying in the box was the body of a man. He was wearing a simple white robe, and his hands were folded on his chest as though in prayer. Though he must have been dead a thousand years, his body was amazingly preserved. Long silver hair flowed down over a pillow of stone; the skin of his face was as dry and thin as paper, but in it they could still see the creases and lines of great suffering. But even sorrow and ancient death could not conceal his gentle strength.

  They were looking into the face of a king.

  “Who is it?” Tori whispered.

  “How the heck should I know?”

  “I wasn’t asking you.” But before Mirick could answer, they heard the sound of running water. Grabbing the lantern, Alex moved to the rail.

  “The cave is flooding.”

  Tori joined him. As they watched, water rushed in faster
and faster. Suddenly they felt the boat lift. Then they were moving. Trying to see, Alex ran to the prow, but the light wasn’t strong enough. All he could tell was that they were traveling with increasing speed through an underground tunnel carried along on a river of rippling shadows.

  26

  BUG ISLAND

  I’m sick of riding in this tub down a thousand miles of sewer pipe. Where are we going?” Alex had been complaining for an hour.

  “Tell him to stop whining or I’ll fly into his mouth and drill a hole all the way to the back of his head.”

  “You wouldn’t do that.” Tori was trying to deal with both of them at once.

  “Wouldn’t do what?”

  “Not you, Alex. I’m talking to my friend.”

  “You’re crazy, you know that? There’s nobody here but us.”

  “Then why do you keep wanting me to ask him questions?”

  “I must tell you that my patience with your brother is fading rapidly. And a moth doesn’t have a copious supply to begin with,” Mirick whispered loudly in her ear.

  “Stop it! Both of you.”

  “Look at me, Tori. I am only one person so both of me can’t do anything.”

  “Shut up!”

  “What a superlative idea. If only he would do it.”

  “You too! Everybody just be quiet! You’re driving me crazy.” Tori marched to the stern of the boat and plopped down. Alex continued slouching near the prow.

  “Fine! But maybe you could tell your stupid imaginary friend that I’m starving to death.”

  “I told you, I’ve got nuts and berries.”

  “I hate nuts and berries!”

  “Then go eat poop.”

  “That was not poop. It was the best food I’ve ever had.”

  “Then just pretend you’re eating more of it and leave me alone.” Closing her eyes, she leaned her head against the carved wood. They had been speeding down the underground river for hours, and Alex had become more and more obnoxious. Mirick, who was still nestled in her hair, whispered, “I should warn you that in a few minutes he’s going to get very, very nasty.”

  “How can it get worse than now?”

  “Oh, believe me, this is nothing. It’s almost dawn outside, and he’s away from his window.”