Anno Mortis

by Rebecca Levene

  He found himself at the shore again, little wavelets lapping against the rocks at his feet. The ferryman was there too. He always was.

  "I want to cross," Narcissus told him.

  The man shook his head, hidden beneath his cowl. "You don't have the coin."

  Narcissus felt for the purse that hung at his neck, but he already knew that the ferryman was right. It was empty.

  "I'll pay you when I reach the other side," Narcissus told him.

  The ferryman laughed and Narcissus saw a brief flash of yellow teeth in the shadows. "They all say that, son. And none of them can."

  "I'm different!" Narcissus said, though he wasn't sure how.

  "They all say that too."

  "Then I'll swim." Narcissus looked down at the water. He had a memory, a bright blue one, of being dragged through the sea to the shores of Alexandria. He hadn't known how to swim then, but he thought he could manage now.

  "Unwise, boy," the ferryman said. "This river will carry away more than your body."

  "What choice do I have?" Narcissus asked him, and the ferryman had no answer to that. His flat boat drifted away, lost in the mist in moments, and only the long, slow-moving river remained.

  Narcissus couldn't see the far shore, but it should be possible to reach it. And, after all, what more did he have to lose?

  He drew in one breath and dived beneath the ice-cold surface before his mind could supply an answer to that question.

  Petronius found himself on the bank of a great river. He could hear the waters rushing past, though they were hard to see in the gloom of the world that lay through the gate. Vali stood beside him - if that was even his name - and Nero lay limp in his arms. When Petronius put the little boy down, he clung tight to his thigh, his only anchor in this strange world.

  Vali frowned at the river, its far shore lost in the darkness. "We need to cross," he said. "Before she follows us through."

  "Who are you?" Petronius said. "And who's she?'"

  Vali smiled crookedly. "Gods and demons, beings from another realm. We're just people, Petronius, with many names and normal desires. And currently my desire is to survive. How about you?"

  "Cold water!" Nero said, and Petronius saw that the child had knelt to dip his finger in the river.

  Before Petronius could react, Vali swooped and lifted him back. Nero let out a little yelp of protest that faded into silence as he stared at the tip of his index finger, which he'd wetted to its middle joint. Petronius could see the middle joint. The water had withered the skin and flesh above it, ageing it a hundred years in a second.

  The little boy began to cry, more from shock than pain, Petronius thought - and Vali hurriedly put him down. "This river runs with more than water," he said. "It carries the hours of the night, time passing in its ebb and flow."

  "Then how can we cross it?" Petronius asked. He looked down at the water and felt a terrible temptation to dip his finger in it too - his whole hand. To feel time as a physical thing, flowing past.

  Vali grimaced. "There was a day I could have swum it without fear of harm, but I've lived in the mortal realm too long. I fear time has caught my scent."

  There was nothing else around them, a featureless plain stretching away from the river to a horizon that lay in darkness. Petronius suspected he could walk forever and never reach it. He could hear the gushing sound of what might be a huge waterfall, somewhere in the distance, but he couldn't see it.

  "If these are the hours of night," he said, "can't we follow them into day?"

  Vali laughed, a surprised and genuine sound. "How typically Roman - logic in the midst of unreason. No, the night here is endless, for all that it ticks on second by second like any other time."

  Petronius found his gaze suddenly drawn behind them, back to the distant source of the dark river. "Then how about a boat? Could that carry us across?"

  Vali's gaze tracked his until he saw the same thing. The barge was broad and high-sided, and it was the only thing in this gloomy land which carried its own source of illumination. The light from inside it spilled out on the water, and Petronius saw with a jolt of fear that the water itself was black. It absorbed the light that hit it and gave nothing back.

  The barge sailed close to the shore, its double banks of oars sending the pitch-black water to splash against the land. The whole thing was painted in bright colours, daubed with the pictures and symbols the Egyptians used in their writing, a side-on eye and a falcon, a scarab and a bird. And there was a ladder leading up the side, Petronius could see that now. It should be possible to jump aboard it - possible, but frightening, if the aim was to avoid touching even one drop of the water beneath. The slightest stumble and they'd fall into the river and be burned to the bone by the waters of time.

  Nearer still, Petronius caught his first glimpse of the oarsmen, hidden in the bowels of the barge. He flinched away from flashes of eyes slitted like those of beasts. One of the oarsmen smiled, a wide gaping in a mouth that was more of a muzzle. A pink tongue lolled over sharp white teeth.

  Suddenly, climbing aboard didn't seem such an appealing prospect.

  But behind them, there was another sound - a tearing in the air itself - and he guessed that Sopdet had followed them through.

  "Our only chance," Vali said, and leapt aboard the barge.

  His fingers caught on the rungs of the ladder, but the blue paint there must have been slicker than it looked. Petronius heard the barbarian gasp and his fingers slid until only his nails gave him any purchase. He was already leaning backwards - a second more and he'd fall into the rushing waters of the river below.

  There was no reason Petronius should care. He had Nero to take care of, and himself, and Vali had lied to him from the start. But he found himself hooking an arm under Nero and flinging himself at the barge.

  He aimed for the rung beneath Vali, the lowest that was still above the water. The river was smooth here but the slightest wave might splash and burn him. His feet scrabbled for their footing, finding the rungs already slick with water. The heel of his sandal saved his foot but when he risked a glance down he saw the leather rotting away.

  Nero was as slippery as the wood beneath his feet, squirming in his arms. And his own hands could reach only the outer edge of the ladder, circling Vali's body between them in a loose embrace.

  The initial force of the impact pushed all three of them against the side of the boat, saving Vali from falling and driving the breath out of all their lungs. Then, a second later, they all began falling back, rebounding from the slick wood of the boat. Petronius gritted his teeth and tightened his grip on the side of the ladder, hardly any power left in him after this long, strange day.

  Vali was heavy, and the boat was swaying now - as if it knew it had uninvited riders, and was trying to buck them off. Vali fell back against Petronius with all his weight, and his elbow caught him beneath the ribs.

  Petronius let out a harsh gasp of pain, but the pain made his hands convulse and clench and the extra strength of their grip saved him. Then the boat swayed back, they were pressed against it once again, and this time Vali didn't wait. His hands reached above him and he swarmed up the ladder towards the top of the boat and whatever awaited them there.

  Petronius was only a little slower in following, hampered by the small boy clasped against his chest. The higher rungs seemed more robust, or maybe his diminishing fear made them seem that way, as he left the water below him.

  As he neared the top, he began to hear a sound, a deep buzzing that was as much in his bones as in his ears. The light grew brighter too, but he was glad of that. Anything that pierced the darkness was welcome.

  But when he finally entered the barge, the light was brighter than he could have imaged. He shut his eyes against it in a flinch of pain, but the light burned through his eyelids, seeming to pierce directly into his brain. He didn't dare open them again - wasn't sure that if he did, there'd be anything left behind his eyelids but burned-out black husks.

  O
nly the image remained, almost as bright in memory as it had been of itself. He could feel the heat of it too, setting his skin smouldering - that great, burning ball of flame that he knew as the sun, carried here on a barge through the hours of night.

  And Boda, too, found herself facing a river. It traced a gentle curve through the endless field of grass, its waters a pleasant tinkle to counterpoint the wind whispering through the stalks. In the far distance, she could see something black stretching into the sky, and she guessed that it was Yggdrasil. She thought the source of the river might lie beneath the tree's roots, and she was afraid to touch its waters, however pleasant they sounded, and however blue they looked.

  But there was a bridge, only a few minutes' walk along its course. The light here was diffuse, no one source to sparkle from the water or the bridge itself, but as Boda drew nearer she saw that the whole thing was constructed from rich, buttery gold.

  When she reached the short flight of steps leading up to the bridge, she saw the figure standing astride it, one foot at one edge and one at the other, though the structure must be twenty-paces wide.

  The giantess didn't seem to sense her approach at first. The level of her gaze was high above Boda's head, and perhaps her ears were too distant to detect the sound of her tread. But when Boda placed her first foot on the bridge itself, the giantess shifted her gaze downwards, squinting as if she found it hard to focus on something so small. This close, Boda could feel the waves of cold rolling off her. Her armour had looked like silver from a distance, but now Boda could see that the whole suit was made of ice - intricately carved and near transparent, showing the blue skin beneath.

  "Little mortal," the giantess said. "I am Modgudr, guardian of the bridge, and you may not pass."

  Boda found herself pushed back a step by the enormous volume of her voice. The rasp as Modgudr drew her sword was louder yet, the sound of a mountain of ice breaking away to fall into the sea far below.

  The blade steamed with cold and Boda fumbled at her side for her own, before remembering that in this realm she didn't wear one. She smiled at herself, because even if she had, how could she possibly have hoped to defeat this vast being?

  "I must pass," Boda said. "Mimir commands it."

  Modgudr huffed a breath that rolled over Boda like a freezing mist. "My bodiless brother is not my master. I chart my own course."

  "Oh? Your learning must be great indeed, to exceed that of the master of the Well of Wisdom?"

  "Do you mock me?"

  Boda forced herself to look up and up, into Modgudr's distant eyes. "Perhaps. I've drunk from the well - have you?"

  "I have no need of it! My understanding is deeper than the ocean, which Thor himself could not drain. My knowledge is broader than the plain of Vigrid, where the gods themselves shall die. How dare you question me, little ghost!"

  "A contest, then," Boda said. "A test to see who's wiser."

  "You challenge me?" Modgudr bellowed, the force of her words so strong, they blew Boda back to the edge of the bridge.

  Boda clung on to the railing and set her teeth against the gale. "I do, riddle against riddle, and the one who can't answer must forfeit her life - or what life she has, in a place such as this."

  "Hmmm..." the giantess said, a profound vibration. "But nothing must be asked that is not known by the questioner."

  "Agreed," Boda said. "My word on it."

  "Then mine is given too - and I shall ask my question first. Tell me this, daughter of worms, what is it that walks on four legs in the morning, two in the afternoon, and three in the evening?"

  Modgudr smiled, clearly pleased with herself, but Boda smiled wider. Maybe if she hadn't spent those months in Rome, she might have been baffled, but she'd learnt their legends too. "Man crawls on four legs in the morning of his life," she said, "walks upright on two in the healthy afternoon, and stoops on two legs and a stick in the fading twilight of his years."

  The giantess snorted, clouds of ice puffing from her nostrils to fall as snow on the bridge below. "Very well then - your question for me?"

  Boda clenched her fists, then said: "Tell me, what did Vali whisper in my ear in the second before I died?"

  There was a long silence. "This is your riddle?" Modgudr said eventually.

  "Yes. Can you answer it?"

  "Of course not! No one but you knows the answer."

  Boda allowed herself the tiniest smile. "But I do know - which was the only condition you set."

  The giantess's roar of rage seemed larger than the sky. Boda wondered if the white clouds would crack and the earth tear at the power of it. She fell to her knees, curling her arms around her head to block it out, but the noise was everywhere, in her and around her, and she thought if it went on a second longer it would melt her flesh and shake her bones apart.

  When it finally ended the silence felt like a blow. Boda had a second to uncurl herself, and then Modgudr's sword began to swing. Boda flung herself to the side of the bridge, but the sword was broader than the walkway, broader than the river itself. There was no escaping it.

  The point came towards her, blotting out the sky behind it, and she wondered if it would crush or pierce her. Closer still, and she could see the pits in the metal, the first huge specks of rust. It came level with her knees, her chest - and the outer reach of its swing whistled by a pace from her head, setting her blonde hair flying. Boda toppled backwards as the great blade continued to swing up, up and inward - towards the giantess's own heart.

  The blade sank in without a sound, and Modgudr fell to her knees with only a low murmur of pain. Her aim was true and Boda saw the blood gush from the wound, as blue as the giantess's skin. Droplets as big as fists spattered against Boda's head. She was surprised to find that Modgudr's blood was as warm and sticky as human blood, though it smelt of wet ash.

  The giantess's eyes were shielded behind lids as big as sails, but she blinked them open one last time. "Pass then, little ghost," she said. "Your wisdom is greater than mine."

  He dragged himself from the water, wondering why he'd been swimming and where. The landscape around lay in darkness, the bare outlines of jagged rocks visible in the distance. Had he been here before? He couldn't remember.

  He looked back at the river, and when he did he saw a boat, a flat-bottomed barge which was floating towards him. The man steering it had hidden his face beneath a deep black cowl, but he saw the ghost of a smile as he approached.

  "So you crossed," the ferryman said. "Brave and stupid, boy."

  "Crossed what?" he asked. He hadn't crossed anything, he was just standing there. Except, no. He'd just come out of the water, hadn't he? He must have swum the river. This new piece of knowledge about himself excited him, and he laughed.

  The ferryman shook his head, lost in shadows. "The River Lethe is unkind to mortals. Do you know why you needed to be here?"

  "No," he said. "Can you tell me? Can you tell me who I am? What I want? Where I came from and where I'm going?"

  "So many questions - and I have only one answer to give. Which one would you like?"

  He thought about it. He'd like to know his name - he seemed to remember that people needed names - but the ferryman was perfectly happy to speak to him without one. And he'd like to know where he came from, but he'd probably left there for a reason. On the other hand, if he found out where he was going, he might find what he wanted then he got there.

  The ferryman nodded, as if he'd said all that out loud. "You're going to find the god who died, and persuade him to stay dead."

  He frowned, because that didn't sound familiar at all. But why would the ferryman lie to him? "And where will I find him?" he asked. "It's part of the original question!" he added hurriedly, as the ferryman shook his head.

  The boat was drifting away, already fading into mist, and for a moment he thought the ferryman wouldn't answer him. But the voice floated back, almost lost beneath the splash of the waves. "The dead god sits in the hall of judgement, as far from the river's ban
k as forgiveness and as near as guilt."

  He wasn't quite sure what that meant, but it sounded like he needed to walk away from the river. After all, why else would he have swum it? He set off across the landscape of fallen rocks, the crushed remnants of a mountain that was long gone. The sharp edges tore his feet and his knees when he stumbled, but he didn't mind. He'd forgotten how to feel pain.

  For miles and maybe years the landscape didn't change. But then, finally, he saw something, a greater darkness in the distance that resolved into a gateway as he drew near. Was that where he meant to go? If not, it must lead somewhere, and somewhere was better than the endless nowhere of this land.

  He was almost at the cave-mouth when he saw the creature that lived inside. He fumbled for the word and found to his delight that he remembered it: 'dog'. But weren't dogs meant to be small, no taller than his waist? And did they normally have three heads?

  The three heads swung to face him as he approached, and the creature rose to its feet, lifting them far above him. The heads seemed to be smiling at him, white teeth shining, but was it really a smile? He thought there might be another word for that expression, and for the deep growl that came from the creature's barrel chest.

  Saliva dripped from the pink insides of its lips to the rocks below, burning where it landed, and he discovered that fear was an emotion he hadn't yet forgotten.

  Petronius had always thought that blindness would be dark, but now he knew that it was as bright as the light that had burned his eyes. He wondered if he would see the sun for the rest of eternity, blazing behind his eyelids.

  Nero still clung to his hip, though he didn't know if the boy had also been blinded. Only Vali seemed entirely unharmed. He'd taken Petronius's arm and led him ashore when the barge had neared the far bank.

  Stepping off into nothingness had been terrifying - knowing that the waters of time might wait to drown him beneath. But he had to trust Vali. He had no choice.