The Redemption of Althalus

by Eddings, Leigh;Eddings, David

  They continued along the Edge of the World for a week or more while autumn marched inexorably toward winter. Then one evening after they’d eaten, Gher looked off toward the north. “That fire out there seems awful bright tonight, doesn’t it?” he said.

  “Why don’t we go have a look?” Althalus suggested, standing up.

  “Why not?” Gher said.

  They left their camp just as the moon was rising and walked over to the Edge of the World.

  The moon gently caressed the misty cloud tops far below, setting them all aglow. Althalus had seen this before, of course, but it was different here. The moon in her nightly passage drinks all color from the land and sea and sky, but she could not drink the color from God’s fire, and the seething waves of rainbow light in the northern sky also burnished the tops of the clouds below. It seemed that they almost played there among the cloud tops with the moon’s pale light encouraging the amorous advances of the rainbow fire. All bemused by the flicker and play of colored light that seemed almost to surround and enclose them, Althalus and Gher lay in the soft brown grass to watch the courtship of the moon and the fire of God.

  And then, far back in the mountains of Kagwher, they heard the sweet sound of the song of Eliar’s Knife. Althalus smiled. All manner of things were different this time.

  He fell asleep easily that night. The fire of God in the northern sky and the song of the Knife rising from the forest seemed perfectly matched, and everything fit together just as it should. It must have been along toward dawn when thoughts of shimmering fire and aching song were banished by yet another dream.

  Her hair was the color of autumn, and her limbs were rounded with a perfection that made his heart ache. She was garbed in a short, archaic tunic, and her autumn hair was plaited elaborately. Her features were somehow alien in their perfect serenity. On his recent trip to the civilized lands of the south, he had viewed ancient statues, and his dream visitor’s face more closely resembled the faces of yore than the faces of the people of the mundane world. Her brow was broad and straight, and her nose continued the line of her forehead unbroken. Her lips were sensual, intricately curved, and as ripe as cherries. Her eyes were large and very green, and it seemed that she looked into his very soul with those eyes.

  A faint smile touched those lips, and she held her hand out to him. “Come,” she said in a soft voice. “Come with me. I will care for you.”

  “I wish I could,” he found himself saying, and he cursed his tongue. “I would go gladly, but it’s very hard to get away.”

  “If you come with me, you shall never return,” she told him in her throbbing voice. “For we shall walk among the stars, and fortune will never betray you more. And your days will be filled with sun and your nights with love. Come. Come with me, my beloved. I will care for you.” And she beckoned and turned to lead him.

  And, all bemused, he followed her, and they walked out among the clouds, and the moon and the fire of God welcomed them and blessed their love.

  And when he awoke the next morning, his heart was filled with contentment.

  The days grew shorter and the nights more chill as Althalus and Gher followed the Edge of the World toward the northeast, and after about a week, they entered a region that was very familiar. “We’re getting close to the House, aren’t we?” Gher said one evening after supper.

  Althalus nodded. “We’ll probably get there about noon tomorrow. We’ll have to wait a bit before we can go inside, though.”

  “What for?”

  “I didn’t go across the bridge to the House until late in the day last time, and I think we’d better keep it that way. Ghend’s been using these dream visions since the beginning, and every one has fallen apart on him. It sort of looks to me as if something doesn’t like it when we start playing with things that’re all over and done with. That’s why I’m going to make this time turn out as close to last time as I can—put my feet in the same places, scratch my nose at the same time, and all that. I’d like to get back on the good side of whatever it is out there that doesn’t like tampering with the past. Once we’re both back inside the House, we’ll be all right, but as long as we’re outside, I think we’d better be very careful.”

  They arrived at home late the following morning, and Althalus realized that he hadn’t looked at the House from the outside for quite some time. He knew that it was much larger than it appeared to be from out here, but it was still an imposing place. Its location on that promontory, separated from the narrow plateau by the chasm the drawbridge crossed, silently suggested that it was separated from the rest of the world as well. Althalus was fairly certain that the House would remain exactly where it was, even if the rest of the world happened to vanish.

  They dismounted and sat down on the rock behind which Althalus had hidden twenty-five centuries before.

  At noon, Andine and Leitha came across the bridge with a large wicker basket. “Lunchtime,” Leitha called.

  “Is Emmy mad at us or anything?” Gher asked apprehensively.

  “No,” Andine replied. “Actually, she seems to be rather pleased about the way things turned out.”

  “Dweia wants you to wait a bit before you cross the bridge,” Leitha told them. “It’s not quite time yet.”

  Althalus nodded. “I know,” he said.

  “Keep an eye on the tower window,” Leitha instructed. “Bheid’s going to flash a lantern to let you know when you’re supposed to come home.” She smiled briefly. “That’s part of his job, isn’t it?”

  “I think I missed that one,” Gher admitted.

  “The Knife told him to illuminate, didn’t it?”

  “Are you trying to be funny?”

  “Would I do that?” Then she smiled again. “Poor Bheid’s been staring at the floor ever since he saw you two talking with Dweia’s brother,” she told Althalus. “He definitely wasn’t expecting that.”

  “Neither was I,” Althalus replied, “and I’m going to have a very long talk with Emmy about it. I’m sure she recognized him last time, but she didn’t bother to tell me just exactly who the crazy man was. Why don’t you girls go on back home? It’s a bit chilly out here.”

  Althalus and Gher ate lunch, and then they sat waiting and casting frequent glances up at the tower window.

  The sun was low over the southern horizon when they saw the flicker of light in the window. “That’s it, Gher,” Althalus said, rising to his feet. “Let’s go home.”

  “I’m ready,” Gher agreed.

  They led their horses across the bridge and into the courtyard, where Eliar was waiting. “I’ll take care of your horses,” he told them. “Emmy wants to see you in the tower. Take Ghend’s Book with you.”

  “Right,” Althalus said. “Bring the Book, Gher.”

  They went into the House and made their way to the stairs leading up to the tower.

  Dweia was standing at the top of the stairs, and Althalus felt a peculiar twisting inside. He hadn’t fully realized just how much he’d missed her. “Have you got the Book?” she demanded.

  “I’m awfully sorry, Em,” Althalus told her. “We used it to start fires along the way.”

  “Very funny, Althalus.”

  “I’ve got it right here, Emmy,” Gher told her, patting the leather bag he was carrying.

  “Good. Bring it upstairs, but leave it inside the bag for now.”

  Althalus and Gher climbed up the stairs, and Dweia fiercely embraced Althalus at the top. “Don’t go away anymore,” she told him quite firmly.

  “Not if I can help it, Em,” he agreed.

  “May we see the Book?” Bheid asked eagerly as they entered the tower room.

  “No,” Dweia said. “That’s not necessary.”

  “Dweia!” he protested.

  “I don’t want you to touch it, and I most definitely don’t want you to read any part of it. We brought it here to destroy it, not to read it.”

  “What do you want me to do with it, Emmy?” Gher asked.

&nb
sp; “Toss it under the bed for now,” she replied indifferently.

  “Why not get rid of the dreadful thing right now?” Andine demanded.

  “Not until morning, dear,” Dweia told her. “We definitely want plenty of daylight around when we bring the Books together. I want all traces of night gone before we start.”

  “You’re cruel, Dweia,” Bheid accused.

  “She’s protecting you, Bheid,” Leitha told him. “She knows all about your hunger for books—even for this one. There are things in Ghend’s Book that you don’t want to know about.”

  “Are you telling me that you know what’s in it?”

  “Only in general terms, Bheid. I’m staying as far away from it as I possibly can.”

  “This discussion isn’t really going anywhere,” Dweia told them. “Why don’t we all go down to supper?”

  “Do you want me to stay here and guard the Book, Emmy?” Eliar asked.

  “Why?”

  “Well, shouldn’t somebody stay here and keep an eye on it—just in case Ghend tries to sneak in and steal it back?”

  “Ghend can’t enter the House, Eliar,” she replied, “not unless somebody invites him in.”

  Several things clicked together for Althalus at that point. He knew what he had to do now. “There’s something I’ll need to discuss with you, Eliar,” he told the young Arum as they all started toward the stairs. “Later on, probably.”

  “Anything you say, Althalus.”

  “Are you sure you know what you’re doing, love?” Dweia asked Althalus later, when they were alone.

  “More or less,” he replied. “Your brother hinted around the edges of it, and I know Ghend well enough to have a fair idea of what he’ll probably try to do. Please don’t interfere, Em. Ghend’s my responsibility, and I’ll deal with him in my own way.”

  “No killing in my House, Althalus,” she said flatly.

  “I wasn’t planning to kill him, Em. Actually, I’m going to do something worse.”

  “It’s dangerous, isn’t it?”

  “It won’t be a casual stroll in the park,” he admitted. “The timing’s going to be crucial, so don’t interrupt me or distract me—and keep the others out from underfoot. I know what has to be done, and I don’t need any interference.”

  “Are you certain you’ll be able to handle it?”

  “Your brother seemed to think so. Oh, by the way, he sent his love.”

  “Are you trying to be funny?”

  “Didn’t you hear him?”

  “Not very clearly, no.”

  “You missed the good part of the conversation, then. When you get right down to it, you’ve got your brother wrapped around your little finger. He absolutely adores you.”

  She started to purr. “Tell me more,” she urged.

  “We might as well get on with this,” Dweia told them the next morning after breakfast. “It’s broad daylight now, so let’s go upstairs and get started.”

  They rose from the table and started toward the door. But Althalus motioned to Eliar, and the two of them lingered in the dining room. “Pay very close attention, Eliar,” Althalus told the young man. “This is crucial.”

  “What do you want me to do, Althalus?”

  “When we get to the tower room, I want you to go over to the window where your special door’s located. Be sort of casual about it, and as soon as you’re sure that nobody’s watching, I want you to unlatch that door and leave it just slightly ajar.”

  “Is that a good idea? I mean, if Ghend’s looking for a way to get inside the House, and if that door’s unlatched—”

  “I want him to see that the door’s not locked. When he comes at me, I want him to come through that door. I don’t want him coming at me from behind my back.”

  “Oh, now I see what you’re getting at. When did you want me to do that other thing?”

  “Wait for my signal. Just be ready when I give you the word. We’ll only have a few seconds, so stay on your toes. If Emmy starts screaming at you, just ignore her and do what I tell you to do.”

  “You’re going to get me in trouble, Althalus.”

  “I’ll explain it to her after it’s all over. It’s essential that you only listen to me once this gets started. If we don’t do it exactly right, none of us’ll be here to see the sun go down—and that’s assuming that there’ll still be a sun, or anything for it to go down behind.”

  “You’re starting to make me nervous, Althalus.”

  “Good. At least I’m not alone.”

  “Will you two stop dawdling?” Dweia called down the stairs.

  “We’re coming, Em,” Althalus called back. “Don’t get excited.”

  “Now, then,” Dweia told them all after Althalus and Eliar had joined them in the tower room, “when this starts, I want you all to stay back. This might be dangerous. All right, Gher, fetch Ghend’s Book.”

  “Anything you say, Emmy,” the boy replied, going to the bed. He knelt and groped around under the marble platform until he found the leather bag. Then he stood up and brought the bag to her. “Here it is,” he said, holding it out to her.

  “Take it out of the bag, Gher,” she told him, putting her hands behind her back.

  “It won’t hurt you, Emmy,” he assured her. “It feels a little funny, but it’s not scalding hot or anything like that.”

  “That probably depends on who you are, Gher,” she told him. “Take the Book out of the bag and lay it on the table beside our Book. Don’t let them touch each other, though.”

  “If that’s the way you want it,” he said, untying the thong that held the bag shut. Then he reached in and pulled out the large, black leather box. “It seems a little heavier,” he noted. Then he laid the box on the gleaming marble table. “Is that just about where you want it?” he asked.

  “Move it just a bit closer to the white one,” Dweia replied.

  He slid the black box across the table top toward the white one. “Is that about right?”

  She squinted at the two boxes. “Close enough, I think.”

  “Nothing’s happening, Dweia,” Bheid said.

  “Not yet,” she said. “That’s because it’s not complete yet. Give me your Knife, Eliar.”

  “All right, Emmy,” he replied, drawing out his dagger.

  Althalus glanced quickly toward the south window and saw that the door was slightly ajar, even as Eliar reversed his Knife and offered the hilt to Dweia.

  “Not that way,” she told him, extending both of her hands, palms up. “Just lay it across my hands.”

  “Whatever you say.” Eliar placed the Knife on her outstretched hands.

  She turned to face the table then and stood holding the Knife over the two books. “Now we wait,” she said.

  “Wait for what, Emmy?” Gher asked curiously.

  “The right moment.”

  “Is a bell going to ring, or something like that?”

  “Not exactly. I’m sure we’ll all notice it, though. They’ll probably notice it on the other side of the world.”

  “Oh, one of those things.”

  “‘Those things’ as you put it, are a sort of family tradition. We do that a lot in my family.”

  Then the House itself seemed to shudder, almost as if shaken by a distant peal of thunder, and the sky outside darkened.

  The Knife lying across Dweia’s palms seemed to shift and blur, and its aching song rose in triumph. Then it expanded into a formless sort of mist.

  “What’s happening?” Bheid’s voice was alarmed.

  Dweia, however, did not answer as the blurred mist above her hands coalesced. Then a slender golden box lay glowing where Eliar’s Knife had been.

  The darkness that had descended on the House was quite suddenly pushed back by the golden glow that seemed to emanate from Dweia’s Book. The inky black clouds that had temporarily obscured the light roiled titanic along the horizon as the golden light of the Book and the rainbow light of God’s fire engulfed them.

&nb
sp; “I’ve missed you,” Dweia said fondly to her Book. “The time’s finally come for you to do what I made you to do at the very beginning.” And she gently placed the golden Book atop the other Books on the table, meticulously shifting it so that it bridged the gap between the Book of Deiwos and the Book of Daeva.

  The shuddering of the House intensified, and from deep in the earth there came a sound so low that it was felt rather than heard. And from the sky and the nearby mountains came that familiar wail of despair commingled with the song of the Knife.

  “Oh, hush,” Dweia said absently. “Both of you. I’m trying to concentrate.”

  The golden light of the Book intensified, enveloping the entire table in a blinding intensity. “Get back!” Dweia cautioned them. “It’s starting!”

  A tendril of smoke began to rise out of the shimmering light that enveloped the table.

  “Are the Books on fire?” Bheid exclaimed in a shrill voice.

  “Ghend’s Book is,” Dweia replied. “That was the purpose of this from the beginning.”

  “I thought you said it wouldn’t burn,” Andine said in a frightened voice.

  “Not in an ordinary fire, dear,” Dweia replied. “That fire on the table isn’t really fire.”

  “It’s truth, Andine,” Leitha told her.

  “But—”

  “Hush, dear,” the pale girl told her, “and get back.” Then she looked quickly at Althalus. “He’s coming!” she warned.

  “I know,” Althalus said grimly. “I’ve been expecting him.”

  Eliar’s door crashed open, and Ghend, all in flame, was there, with burning Khnom just behind him. Garbed in armor of fire were they, and armed with swords of flame.

  “I have come to reclaim that which is mine!” Ghend declared in a voice of thunder, and his burning eyes were incandescent and filled with madness.

  The flaming pair bulked large in Eliar’s doorway, but beyond them it seemed that another door opened on absolute horror. It appeared to Althalus that the door beyond Eliar’s door looked out over a city of fire. The buildings were columns of flame, and the streets were rivers of liquid fire. Multitudes howled and burned in the streets of fire, and lightning seethed around them.