Ch. 8: The King of the Dead

(Return toArheled)

           June  now  rolled  in,  balmy  and  lovely. It grew  hot  for  a  few  days,  and  the  wild  roses  were  blooming  all  white  and  yellow  like  lemon  meringue  against  green,  and  in  the  forests  the  mountain  laurels  broke  into  blossom  of  white  and  pale  pink. Then the  weather  abruptly  got  cold  and  rainy  as  it  usually  did  all  through  the  first  week  of  June,  except  it  was  already  Flag  Day. Pentecost weekend  was  a  washout. Bell moped  around  the  island  in  her  dark-green  raincoat,  Forest  pacing  behind  her  with  the  umbrella.

“Forest, when  you  saw  the  Stars  on  Christmas  Eve,  was  it  summer  or  winter?”  she  said  suddenly.

           “Uh,  it  was  another. Winter, I  mean.”  ''It  was  another  Christmas  Eve  of  long  ago,  and  the  Road  was  returning. '' “Except it  wasn’t  Christmas  back  then.”

           “Oh,  right,  Arheled  did  say  something  about  it  being  around  Noah’s  time  when  the  Stars  rebelled,  didn’t  he? Funny to  think  Christmas  has  been  embedded  deep  in  the  cycles  of  the  World  long  before  Christ  was  born. But was  the  Road  returning  every  hundred  years  back  then? I mean,  from  what he  was saying  to  Brooke  it  seems  the  Road  didn’t  start  doing  that  until—later.”

           “He  said  it  was  returning  as  long  ago  as  the  founding  of  the  Tower.”

           “Oh  yes,  the  world  bent  long  before  the  Great  Flood,  silly  of  me. But Brooke  seemed  to  think  the  Road  was  the  Milky  Way.”

           “Uh  uh.”  contradicted  Forest. “He said  it  was  the  sign  of  the  Road. Maybe the  plane  of  the  Milky  Way  galaxy  is  the  plane  of  the  Flat  World  before  it  was  Bent.”

           “That  would  be  really  cool.”  said  Bell. “Wasn’t that  just  creepy,  though,  when  the  Wild  Man  said  he  could  claim  anything  Brooke  possessed?”

<p style="margin: 1em 0px"><span style="line-height: 115%; font-family: 'Times New Roman', 'serif'; font-size: 12pt">           “Fairies  are  like  that,  too.”

<p style="margin: 1em 0px"><span style="line-height: 115%; font-family: 'Times New Roman', 'serif'; font-size: 12pt">           “Oh  yes,”  said  Bell  pensively,  leaning  on  one of  the  pine  trees,  “in  the  stories,  you  hear  them  exacting  tolls  like  a  summer  day,  or  a  name,  or  even  a  heart. I wouldn’t  want  to  run  into  a  fairy. Is Wild  a  fairy?”

<p style="margin: 1em 0px"><span style="line-height: 115%; font-family: 'Times New Roman', 'serif'; font-size: 12pt">           “Kevin  called  him  an  Elemental.”

<p style="margin: 1em 0px"><span style="line-height: 115%; font-family: 'Times New Roman', 'serif'; font-size: 12pt">           “Yes,  but  Kevin  was  insulting  him. Just like  Wild  was  calling  him  a  firebaby.”

<p style="margin: 1em 0px"><span style="line-height: 115%; font-family: 'Times New Roman', 'serif'; font-size: 12pt">           “I  don’t  think  he’s  an  Elemental.”  Forest  said  slowly. “He’s…” ''He  is  earth,  and  stone,  and  many  things;  but  he  is more  than  those  things. ''

<p style="margin: 1em 0px"><span style="line-height: 115%; font-family: 'Times New Roman', 'serif'; font-size: 12pt">           “If  you  go  and  complete  that  sentence  in  your  head  again,  I’m  gonna  bop  you  one.”  threatened  Bell. “It’s not  like  I’m  telepathic  or  something.”

<p style="margin: 1em 0px"><span style="line-height: 115%; font-family: 'Times New Roman', 'serif'; font-size: 12pt">           “He’s  more.”  blurted  Forest. “He’s something  more  than  what  he’s  made  of. He’s venda.”

<p style="margin: 1em 0px"><span style="line-height: 115%; font-family: 'Times New Roman', 'serif'; font-size: 12pt">           “That’s  what  Arheled  called  himself.”

<p style="margin: 1em 0px"><span style="line-height: 115%; font-family: 'Times New Roman', 'serif'; font-size: 12pt">           “Yes,  but  different.”  Forest  stumbled  on. “Wild is  venda  like  Rugg  Valley,  eerie  and  wild  and  creepy,  but  Arheled  is  venda  like…like  imperishable  crystal  at  the  world’s  end. High venda.  You  know?”

<p style="margin: 1em 0px"><span style="line-height: 115%; font-family: 'Times New Roman', 'serif'; font-size: 12pt">           “Yeah.”  mused  Bell. “I know.”

<p style="margin: 1em 0px"><span style="line-height: 115%; font-family: 'Times New Roman', 'serif'; font-size: 12pt">

<p style="margin: 1em 0px"><span style="line-height: 115%; font-family: 'Times New Roman', 'serif'; font-size: 12pt">

<p style="margin: 1em 0px"><span style="line-height: 115%; font-family: 'Times New Roman', 'serif'; font-size: 12pt">           Lara  Midwinter  leaned  on  her  windowsill,  gazing  moodily  out  into  the  leaves  of  the  green  wet  trees  outside. The window  was  open  and  the  cold  raw  air  flowed  around  her,  so  refreshing  after  all  the  heat. Not that  she  minded  the  heat  much—it  was  a  relief  in  some  ways  after  the  Fell  Winter—but she  hated  working  in  it. Even with  air  conditioning  the  ovens  and  stoves  made  it  awful  in  back.

<p style="margin: 1em 0px">''<span style="line-height: 115%; font-family: 'Times New Roman', 'serif'; font-size: 12pt">           Naked  silver  trees,  limbs  of  grown  crystal… ''

<p style="margin: 1em 0px"><span style="line-height: 115%; font-family: 'Times New Roman', 'serif'; font-size: 12pt">           She  shook  her  head. In many  ways  last  night’s  dream  had  been  one  of  the  most  disturbing  yet.

<p style="margin: 1em 0px">''<span style="line-height: 115%; font-family: 'Times New Roman', 'serif'; font-size: 12pt">           She  had  been  in  a  forest,  but  a  forest  of  glass,  with  branching  treelike  shapes  more  beautiful  than  any  tree  that  grew  upon  the  earth,  and  a  dew  of  ice  and  diamond  spangled  them  and  gleamed  upon  them. The ground  that  they  grew  out  of  was  a  floor  of  solid  mist,  a  pearly  gleaming  mist  that  drifted ankle-deep  around  the  silver  boots  and  fire-glass  shoes  of  the  two  shining  figures  that  paced  through  this  grove. One was  a  man  of  silver  pearl,  his  face  glowing  like  moonlight  made  solid;  the  other  was  a  woman,  whose hair  drifted  loose  about  her  as  if  it  had  no  gravity,  a  luminous,  molten  golden-white;  the  glance  of  her  eyes  burned  like  a  thrown  lance  of  sunlight. Her gold  flesh  was  as  bright  as  if  dipped  in  flame. ''

<p style="margin: 1em 0px">''<span style="line-height: 115%; font-family: 'Times New Roman', 'serif'; font-size: 12pt">           “The  child  of  Charosa  is  an  ill  shining  to  us.”  said  the  silver  lord. ''

<p style="margin: 1em 0px"><span style="line-height: 115%; font-family: 'Times New Roman', 'serif'; font-size: 12pt">           “Yes,  Silmo,  but  Charosa  has  had  more  children  than  any  of  the  other  Wandering  Stars   <span style="line-height: 115%; font-family: 'Times New Roman', 'serif'; font-size: 12pt">(she  said  a  word  that  sounded  more  like  ‘alaplonto’  but  that  was  what  Lara  understood it  to  mean)''. These all  gleam  most  peacefully  beyond  the  Bords  of  Brightness,  content  to  be  Lesser  Stars.”  the  woman  said. Her voice  was  fierce,  almost  scorching. “Mayhap might  this  one  be  no  different.” ''

<p style="margin: 1em 0px"><span style="line-height: 115%; font-family: 'Times New Roman', 'serif'; font-size: 12pt">           “Aye, but  hark  thee,  Urwendí,  our  son  Angar  the  Dark  has  been  speaking  in  riddles  that  the  father  is  known  to  him,  when  not  even  our  daughter  can  illumine  the   <span style="line-height: 115%; font-family: 'Times New Roman', 'serif'; font-size: 12pt">lend''  that  enseeded  it  within  her. During the  week  in  which  it must  have  been  conceived,  she  was  shone  upon  by  at  least  a  hundred  lender.”  He  sighed. “I long  for  the  purity  of  Valinoria,  free  of  this  mad  lust  that  grips  the  heavens.” ''

<p style="margin: 1em 0px">''<span style="line-height: 115%; font-family: 'Times New Roman', 'serif'; font-size: 12pt">           “Thou  knowest  what  was  said  to  them  in  their  enplacing,  by  the  Father  Himself:  Be  fruitful  and  multiply,  fill  the  heavens  and  populate  the  firmament,  but  meddle  not  beneath  the  heavens,  nor  mingle  in  affairs  of  earth;  be  thou  for  signs  and  for  seasons,  and  for  watching  and  singing,  but  never  make  thou  war;  or  thou  diest.” ''

<p style="margin: 1em 0px">''<span style="line-height: 115%; font-family: 'Times New Roman', 'serif'; font-size: 12pt">           Silmo  frowned. “So it  is  said,  yet  I  think  not  such  a  meaning  was  intended. But as  long  as  their  consent  is  free,  we  can  frown,  but  we  cannot  compel  their  wills,  for  fear  of  risking  strife. And now  no  Star  will  take  a  wife,  but  shine  into  whatsoever  walls  are  soft  to  him,  and  the   <span style="line-height: 115%; font-family: 'Times New Roman', 'serif'; font-size: 12pt">lennaí  are  no  better. It is  a  wonder  if  any  walls  remain  hard  at  all  in  the  firmament.” ''

<p style="margin: 1em 0px">''<span style="line-height: 115%; font-family: 'Times New Roman', 'serif'; font-size: 12pt">           Urwendí  made  an  impatient  gesture. “It is  a  mark  of  the  Shadow  that  darkens  the  Choir  and  makes  its’  song  poisonous  to  overhear,  that  such  mad  softness  be  so  common. <span style="line-height: 115%; font-family: 'Times New Roman', 'serif'; font-size: 12pt">Lend or  lenna,  all  are  fearsome,  their  rays  hard  and  their  points  sharp,  even  as  they  leave  soft  their  walls  to  one  another.” ''

<p style="margin: 1em 0px">''<span style="line-height: 115%; font-family: 'Times New Roman', 'serif'; font-size: 12pt">           Silmo  lowered  his  voice. “Arcturus has  begun  to  forge  weapons  that  will  focus power  and  increase  it. It is  said  he  knows  how  to  tap  into  the  essence  of  the  residue  of  Chaos. Angar is  close  to  this,  and  their  rays  often  blend. I do  not  know  what  this  may  mean.” ''

<p style="margin: 1em 0px">''<span style="line-height: 115%; font-family: 'Times New Roman', 'serif'; font-size: 12pt">           The  light  of  Urwendí’s  eyes  flashed  with  alarm. “Is he  then  planning  to  make  war? Be he  mad?!” ''

<p style="margin: 1em 0px">''<span style="line-height: 115%; font-family: 'Times New Roman', 'serif'; font-size: 12pt">           “I  know  not. But thou  knowest  the  doom  of  the  Stars  is  also  laid  on  us,  when  first  thou  reflected  back  my  rays  and  took  on  flesh  for  love  of  me  and  I  of  thee. Thou knowest  what  the  Lord  of  the  Cosmos  ( <span style="line-height: 115%; font-family: 'Times New Roman', 'serif'; font-size: 12pt">he  actually  said  Iluvala,  but  Lara  heard  it  as  that)  said  at  our  joining.” ''

<p style="margin: 1em 0px">''<span style="line-height: 115%; font-family: 'Times New Roman', 'serif'; font-size: 12pt">           “How  could  I  forget  it?”  Urwendí’s  voice  grew  deep  and  serene,  as  if  recalling  another  voice. “ ‘Since thou  hast  chosen  to  be  incarnate  in  the  heavens,  be  the  fate  of  the  heavens  thy  own  fate  as  well. Measure out  the  days  and  watch  upon  the  years,  but  meddle  not  on  earth,  and  never  make  thou war.’ ” ''

<p style="margin: 1em 0px">''<span style="line-height: 115%; font-family: 'Times New Roman', 'serif'; font-size: 12pt">           “None  the  less,”  said  the  Lord  of  the  Moon,  “Kings  we  are  of  the  lights  of  the  heavens,  and  we  cannot  let  this  problem  grow. We must  confront  Arcturus  and  lay  our  authority  on  him,  and  then  must  we  pierce  the  doings  of  our  son.” ''

<p style="margin: 1em 0px"><span style="line-height: 115%; font-family: 'Times New Roman', 'serif'; font-size: 12pt">           Lara  remembered  well  the  bleak,  lead  feeling  she  had  had  when  she  woke  up. She did  not  need  to  know  what  they  meant  by  the  Shadow,  for  she  felt  it  very  clearly  in  herself:  a  careless,  lead-like  despair,  “eat  and  drink  and  merrymake,  for  tomorrow  we  die.”

<p style="margin: 1em 0px"><span style="line-height: 115%; font-family: 'Times New Roman', 'serif'; font-size: 12pt">           It  hadn’t  helped  any  at  Mass  when  Father  Orlando’s  replacement,  an  older  heavy  priest  who  always  spoke  as  slowly  as  if  about  to  fall  asleep,  forgot  (intentionally,  perhaps,  as  he  also  said  “Sisters  and  brothers”  instead  of  the  Bibical  vice  versa)  to  sing  the  Gloria  and  Kyrie  Elaison.  Both  were  always  sung  in  Latin  at  the  8:00  Sunday  Mass. Not to  mention  omitting  both  the  Confiteor  and  the  Pentecost  sequence;  but  the  latter,  it  seemed,  was  under  some  sort  of  universal  anathema  as  far  as  the  US  bishops  were  concerned,  for  Lara  had  never  heard  it  sung  anywhere.

<p style="margin: 1em 0px">''<span style="line-height: 115%; font-family: 'Times New Roman', 'serif'; font-size: 12pt">           She  remembered  well  the  last  part  of  the  dream. She had  passed  quite  suddenly  from  the  crystal  forest  to  an  equally  crystalline  palace. The floor  was  transparent  sky,  while  the  walls  were  a  mesh  of  crystal  vines  like  a  trellis  of  woven  glass. Apparatus of  silver  wires  and  silver  fashioned  into  bizarre  and  fantastic  shapes  cluttered  the  clear  shelves  and  hung  from  a  thousand  filaments  under  the  woven  ceiling. ''

<p style="margin: 1em 0px">''<span style="line-height: 115%; font-family: 'Times New Roman', 'serif'; font-size: 12pt">           Arcturus  was  there,  bent  over  one  device  like  twisted metal  spaghetti,  and  flashes  of  silvery-blue  power  were  passing  from  his  hands  into  the  device. How they  came  Lara  did  not  see,  but  there  they  stood,  the  Lord  and  Lady  of  the  Moon  and  Sun,  burning  silver  and  clear  gold  in  the  midst  of  that  laboratory. Arcturus looked  up  and  a  flash  of  green  light  was  startled  out  of  him. Then he  bowed  deeply. ''

<p style="margin: 1em 0px">''<span style="line-height: 115%; font-family: 'Times New Roman', 'serif'; font-size: 12pt">           “My  lord  the  Moon,  and  my  lady  the  Sun,  welcome  to  the  halls  of  Arcturus.”  the  Star-lord  greeted. ''

<p style="margin: 1em 0px">''<span style="line-height: 115%; font-family: 'Times New Roman', 'serif'; font-size: 12pt">           “Bandy  not  formaliness  with  thy  soveriegns,  Arcturus.”  the  scorching  voice  of  Urwendí  answered. “We have  come  to  shine  light  into  thy  doings.” ''

<p style="margin: 1em 0px">''<span style="line-height: 115%; font-family: 'Times New Roman', 'serif'; font-size: 12pt">           “I  comprehend  thee  not.” ''

<p style="margin: 1em 0px">''<span style="line-height: 115%; font-family: 'Times New Roman', 'serif'; font-size: 12pt">           “Oh,  thou  dost,  thou dost  indeed.”  the  Lord  Silmo  answered. “Why art  thou  bending  weapons?” ''

<p style="margin: 1em 0px">''<span style="line-height: 115%; font-family: 'Times New Roman', 'serif'; font-size: 12pt">           Arcturus  seemed  wary  but  not  afraid. “I am  preparing  against  that  which  is  coming.” ''

<p style="margin: 1em 0px">''<span style="line-height: 115%; font-family: 'Times New Roman', 'serif'; font-size: 12pt">           “Thou  art  foolish. None of  the  lights  of  Heaven  will  dare  to  make  war,  or even  to  quarrel,  lest  we  trigger  the  doom  and  the  curse  that  is  laid  into  the  Stars.”  Silmo  answered. ''

<p style="margin: 1em 0px">''<span style="line-height: 115%; font-family: 'Times New Roman', 'serif'; font-size: 12pt">           And  Arcturus  said, “ I  deem  that  fear  no  longer  enough  to  face  that  which  is  coming. Think ye  the  Shadow  on  the  Choir  is  a  natural  one,  a  result  of  the  wearing  and  the  weariness  of  Time? Nay, my  Lord  and  Lady,  evil  walks  the  heavens.” ''

<p style="margin: 1em 0px">''<span style="line-height: 115%; font-family: 'Times New Roman', 'serif'; font-size: 12pt">           Then  Silmo  said,  “But  it  is  madness  to  make  weapons,  for  no  matter  what  may  come  against  us,  if  we  go  to  war  at  all  we  will  incurr  the  curse,  for  it  is  laid  into  our  very  natures,  to  transform  within  us  into  energy,  into  matter,  and  escape  us,  changing  us  from  inside,  till  we  are  dead  and  our  bright  corpses  take  our places  in  the  heavens.” ''

<p style="margin: 1em 0px">''<span style="line-height: 115%; font-family: 'Times New Roman', 'serif'; font-size: 12pt">           And  Arcturus  said,  “What  then  of  the  Evening  Star? You know  that  in  the  last  war  against  the  Great  Enemy  he  alone  of  all  the  lights  of  heaven  descended  to  war,  and  overthrew  the  Winged  Dragons  themselves,  even  that  black  one  so  great  three  mountains  broke  under  his  fall. Yet no  curse  befell  him.” ''

<p style="margin: 1em 0px">''<span style="line-height: 115%; font-family: 'Times New Roman', 'serif'; font-size: 12pt">           And  Silmo  answered,  “Thou  know  as  well  that  he  was  not  a  Star,  but  a  Mariner  taken  up  into  our  midst,  the  Last  Jewel  of  the  Three  upon  his  brow,  bearing  the  Light  that  Was  Before  the  Sun  and  Moon;  and  that  his  doom  is  the  same  as  the  Man  in  the  Moon  who  tendeth  the  Rose:  to  meddle  never  in  the  affairs  of  Men,  nor  walk  on  Middle-earth. He was  never  reckoned  among  the  Stars,  but  among  Elves,  and  he  does  not  share  our  curse.” ''

<p style="margin: 1em 0px">''<span style="line-height: 115%; font-family: 'Times New Roman', 'serif'; font-size: 12pt">           Then  Arcturus  began  to  laugh. A queer  shaky  laughter,  sounding  as  odd  coming  from  his  imposing  form  as  if  he  had  suddenly  oinked. “I know  the  tale  of  our  curse.”  he  said. “But has  it  never  entered  thy  minds,  my  lords,  that  mayhap  the  curse  is  but  a  bogey-tale,  to  frighten  us  into  the  ways  of  peace?” ''

<p style="margin: 1em 0px">''<span style="line-height: 115%; font-family: 'Times New Roman', 'serif'; font-size: 12pt">           And  Urwendí  bent  her  piercing  eyes  upon  him,  that  glance  so  searing  that  not  even  the  lord  of  Chaos  had  been  able  to  bear  it;  and  Arcturus dimmed  and  flickered  under  that  stare. “Thou hast  no  fear  of  the  curse.”  she  said  thoughtfully. “Thou believest  that  thou  canst  defeat  it. What hast  thou  pierced? Tell us,  we  bind  thee,  by  the  authority  we  bear  as  the  Sun  and  Moon!” ''

<p style="margin: 1em 0px">''<span style="line-height: 115%; font-family: 'Times New Roman', 'serif'; font-size: 12pt">           And  Arcturus  looked  doubtfully  upon  them. “My lords,  I  do  not  dare.”  he  said  slowly. “It is  a  possibility,  but  a  dim  one. I would  not  lay  the  burden  of  it  upon  you  as  well. If I  alone  possess  it,  I  alone  bear  the  blame  if  it  should  prove  a  false  trail. If I  am  wrong,  and  the  curse  is  all  too  real,  then  I  will  be  the  one  who  falls  to  it  and  not  the  Sun  and  Moon. If I  fall,  make  Sophia  shine  in  my  place;  her  rays  are  young  but  steady  beyond  her  wheelings. I say  no  more.” ''

<p style="margin: 1em 0px">''<span style="line-height: 115%; font-family: 'Times New Roman', 'serif'; font-size: 12pt">           There  was  a  pause  as  the  Sun  and  Moon  gazed  at  him. “So you  think  you  have  pierced  a  way  to  keep  the  curse  from  acting  if  you  should  go  to  war?”  Silmo  said. “And thus  you  have  made  yourself  a  sacrifice,  that  you  should  go  to  war  for  us,  and  suffer  in  your  person  the  doom  if  your  piercing  is  wrong. Your reasons  are  lofty,  Arcturus,  but  I  fear  lest  this  become  known. Keep thy  secret  to  thyself,  we  thee  bind.” ''

<p style="margin: 1em 0px">''<span style="line-height: 115%; font-family: 'Times New Roman', 'serif'; font-size: 12pt">           “This  will  I,  I  so  swear.”  said  Arcturus. ''

<p style="margin: 1em 0px">''<span style="line-height: 115%; font-family: 'Times New Roman', 'serif'; font-size: 12pt">           At  the  back  of  her  mind,  as  if  she  was  seeing  behind  her  head,  Lara  saw  another  chamber  of  webbed  traceries  with  very  similar  devices,  and  standing  in  it  a  tall  Star  in  black  robes  spangled  with  yellow,  and  his  hair  gave  out  no  light. Another Star  in  strange  violet  robes,  hair  and  form  all  wavering  with  violet  light  in  his  excitement  as  if  uncertain  which  shape  to  retain,  stood  before  him. ''

<p style="margin: 1em 0px">''<span style="line-height: 115%; font-family: 'Times New Roman', 'serif'; font-size: 12pt">           “But  my  lord  Angar,  the  possibility  you  suggest…it…it  is  fantastic! If such  a  thing  is  probable,  it  will  put  us  in  a  position  of  unimaginable  power!”  he  was  exclaiming. ''

<p style="margin: 1em 0px">''<span style="line-height: 115%; font-family: 'Times New Roman', 'serif'; font-size: 12pt">           “All  the  more  reason  why  I  want  it  investigated  and  developed.”  the  dark  biting  voice  of  Angar  hissed. “I have  much  staked  on  this. My calculations  are  certain.” ''

<p style="margin: 1em 0px">''<span style="line-height: 115%; font-family: 'Times New Roman', 'serif'; font-size: 12pt">           Then  the  room  changed  again,  and  yet  again,  and  the  devices  of  magic  and  science  shifted  position  and  form  like  shapes  in  a  dream,  and  the  person  opposite  Angar  changed  and  shifted  constantly;  now  a  tall  and  haughty  prince  of  Stars,  now  a  cold  lord  in  blue,  now  a  great  warrior  with  red  hair  who  shone  red  and  gold. Though the  changes  were  countless,  to  each  of  them  she  knew,  somehow,  Angar  was  making  the  same  revelation  and  making  it  seem  as  if  none  other  knew. ''

<p style="margin: 1em 0px">''<span style="line-height: 115%; font-family: 'Times New Roman', 'serif'; font-size: 12pt">           The  whirling  shapes  grew  stranger  and  stranger. Now she  saw  Lilac  cutting  lilacs  off  a  bush  which  transformed  into  horrible  little  dragons  as  they  fell  to  the  ground;  now  Summer  was  opening  her  baby  mouth  and  withering  weather  grew  all  around;  two  young  but  gigantic  faces  more  like  a  girl  and  boy  made  ice,  but  she  knew  somehow  they were  more  than  ice,  they  were  winter  itself. Then she  saw  the  boy  Kevin  who  had  tried  to  date  her  at  work,  but  he  was  all  on  fire,  and  it  was  not  harming  him,  and  he  wanted  her  to  dance  with  him. “Come into  my  arms,  lovely  Lara,  and  the  fire  will  be  yours  as  well.”  he  was  saying,  and  she  wanted  to  so  badly,  but  she  was  cold,  and  cold  was  in  her,  and  he  was  beginning  to  frost  over  even  as  he  spoke…. ''

<p style="margin: 1em 0px"><span style="line-height: 115%; font-family: 'Times New Roman', 'serif'; font-size: 12pt">           She  had  come  slowly  awake  and  found  a  cold  wind  was  blowing  in  the  window,  and  it  was  still  dark  out. She pillowed  her  chin  in  her  arms  now  and  sighed  with  exasperation:  seeing  tiny  fragments  of  the  picture  was  so  difficult  when  you  still  didn’t  have  the  whole  thing.

<p style="margin: 1em 0px"><span style="line-height: 115%; font-family: 'Times New Roman', 'serif'; font-size: 12pt">

<p style="margin: 1em 0px"><span style="line-height: 115%; font-family: 'Times New Roman', 'serif'; font-size: 12pt">

<p style="margin: 1em 0px"><span style="line-height: 115%; font-family: 'Times New Roman', 'serif'; font-size: 12pt">

<p style="margin: 1em 0px"><span style="line-height: 115%; font-family: 'Times New Roman', 'serif'; font-size: 12pt">           “Mom,  when  are  we  getting  the  dock  out  this  year?”  Forest  asked  at  breakfast.

<p style="margin: 1em 0px"><span style="line-height: 115%; font-family: 'Times New Roman', 'serif'; font-size: 12pt">           “I’ve  been  hoping  that  now that  your  father  is  here,  he’d  get  around  to  doing  it…”  said  Mrs. Lake significantly,  lifting  her  eyebrows  at  Hunter  Light,  who  was  reading  the  newspaper  placidly  at  the  far  end  of  the  table  and  paying  no  attention  to  what  was  going  on  around  him.

<p style="margin: 1em 0px"><span style="line-height: 115%; font-family: 'Times New Roman', 'serif'; font-size: 12pt">           “I’ll  get  started.”  he  mumbled.

<p style="margin: 1em 0px"><span style="line-height: 115%; font-family: 'Times New Roman', 'serif'; font-size: 12pt">           “Yes,  you said  that  before  Memorial  Day  too,  and  Bell  couldn’t  have  her  friends  over.”  Mrs. Lake teased. She was  keeping  her  old  name,  as  the  legal  hassle  of  new  ID  and  so  on  was  more  than  they  felt  like  dealing  with  right  now.

<p style="margin: 1em 0px"><span style="line-height: 115%; font-family: 'Times New Roman', 'serif'; font-size: 12pt">           “Mom! You know  perfectly  well  we  had  family  over!”  spluttered  Bell.

<p style="margin: 1em 0px"><span style="line-height: 115%; font-family: 'Times New Roman', 'serif'; font-size: 12pt">           “Well,  I  do  have  today  off  from  teaching,”  Mr. Light said  dubiously,  so  I  may  as  well  get  it  over  with  so  a  certain  pretty  woman  will  give  me  some  peace.”  This  made  Mrs. Lake blush  and  giggle,  which  made  Bell  laugh  and  Forest  grin.

<p style="margin: 1em 0px"><span style="line-height: 115%; font-family: 'Times New Roman', 'serif'; font-size: 12pt">           They  helped  him  pull  the  dock  into  the  water,  splashing  about  and  getting  their  work  clothes  muddy. It had  been  beached  on  the  grassy  bank  behind  the  barn. After a  lot  of  splashing,  swimming  and  shoving  they  had  it  in  place  and  anchored,  and  Forest  and  Bell  ran  and  jumped  off  it  until  their  mom  remembered  they  were  supposed  to  be  in  school. Professor Light  said  a  few  tardys  never  hurt  anyone.

<p style="margin: 1em 0px"><span style="line-height: 115%; font-family: 'Times New Roman', 'serif'; font-size: 12pt">           “Dad,  take  us  rowing?”  begged  Bell,  and  Hunter  glanced  out  at  the  lake  and  decided  there  weren’t  too  many  motorboats  out  yet,  so  they  got  ready. The life  vests  were  located  at  long  last  under  the  tarp  in  the  garage,  where  they  had  no  business  being,  and  Mrs. Lake came  out  to  kiss  Hunter  goodbye  before  going  off  to  work. Then they  were  finally  ready  to  go.

<p style="margin: 1em 0px"><span style="line-height: 115%; font-family: 'Times New Roman', 'serif'; font-size: 12pt">           “So,  tell  me,”  said  Hunter  Light  as  he  pulled  at  the  oars,  “who  put  the  dock  out  while  I  was  gone?”

<p style="margin: 1em 0px"><span style="line-height: 115%; font-family: 'Times New Roman', 'serif'; font-size: 12pt">           “Mom. Me.” said  Forest.

<p style="margin: 1em 0px"><span style="line-height: 115%; font-family: 'Times New Roman', 'serif'; font-size: 12pt">           “Was  he  always  like  that?”  Bell  wanted  to  know. “Or is  he  just  a  retard?”  She  said  it  in  a  sweet  way  that  rendered  it  almost  into  an  endearment.

<p style="margin: 1em 0px"><span style="line-height: 115%; font-family: 'Times New Roman', 'serif'; font-size: 12pt">           “Well,  Forest  always  was  quiet,”  Mr. Light said  thoughtfully  as  he  rowed  around  the  island  and  into  the  Narrows. “But now  I’m  beginning  to  be  almost  afraid  of  him.”  he  finished  with  half  a  smile.

<p style="margin: 1em 0px"><span style="line-height: 115%; font-family: 'Times New Roman', 'serif'; font-size: 12pt">           “Why?”  said  Bell,  amused.

<p style="margin: 1em 0px"><span style="line-height: 115%; font-family: 'Times New Roman', 'serif'; font-size: 12pt">           “When  he  does  speak,  what  he  says  is—almost  like  a  wise  old  man. He sees  the  heart  of  things.”

<p style="margin: 1em 0px"><span style="line-height: 115%; font-family: 'Times New Roman', 'serif'; font-size: 12pt">           They  glided  for  a  while,  drifting  on  the  small  waves. “Ooh! I saw  a  big  fish.”  Bell  exclaimed. “I wish  we’d  brought  our  tackle. But we  never  catch  anything.”

<p style="margin: 1em 0px"><span style="line-height: 115%; font-family: 'Times New Roman', 'serif'; font-size: 12pt">           “Dad.”  said  Forest. “What happened  to  your  machine?”

<p style="margin: 1em 0px"><span style="line-height: 115%; font-family: 'Times New Roman', 'serif'; font-size: 12pt">           Hunter  Light  put  out  the  oars  and  rowed  up  to  Summer  Rock. “It’s still  at  the  College.” he  said. “It’s a  strange  thing. We’re still  racking  our  brains  trying  to  interpret  that  massive  energy  surge  and  what  exactly  is  trapped  in  that  machine. It’s big. Whatever we  tapped  is  so  powerful  that  if  we  can  even  understand  it,  it  could  revolutionize  the  astronomic  field. What is  it…how  it  works…if  we  could  harness  it…”

<p style="margin: 1em 0px"><span style="line-height: 115%; font-family: 'Times New Roman', 'serif'; font-size: 12pt">           “But  what  is  it?”

<p style="margin: 1em 0px"><span style="line-height: 115%; font-family: 'Times New Roman', 'serif'; font-size: 12pt">           “I’m  beginning  to  suspect  some  sort  of  cosmic  ground-base.”  Mr. Light said. “Some essential  force  that  serves  as  principle  for  interstellar  relations. The nature  of  gravity,  perhaps,  as  well. All sorts  of  things  would  appear  in  a  totally  new  light.”

<p style="margin: 1em 0px"><span style="line-height: 115%; font-family: 'Times New Roman', 'serif'; font-size: 12pt">           “Oh,  come  on,  everyone  knows  what  gravity  is.”  said  Bell.

<p style="margin: 1em 0px"><span style="line-height: 115%; font-family: 'Times New Roman', 'serif'; font-size: 12pt">           “Do they?”  said  Hunter  Light. “Philosophy is  content  to  define  it  as  the  principle  by  which  matter  exerts  a  force  on  objects  of  mass;  but  that’s  only  what  it  is,  not  how  it  is. We still  haven’t  figured  it  out. Einstein mutters  of  curves  in  spacetime,  while  Planck  shows  us  that  at  an  atomic  scale  gravity  itself  is  in  question  and  all  models—quantam,  relativity,  and  even  cosmic  string—break  down. Others propose  particles  called  gravitons  that  are  produced  by  attracting  masses  and  which  cause  the  gravitational  fields. Sometimes I’m  tempted  to  throw  up  my  hands  and  say  angels  are  doing  it  by  telekinesis.”

<p style="margin: 1em 0px"><span style="line-height: 115%; font-family: 'Times New Roman', 'serif'; font-size: 12pt">           “That’s  actually  a  philosophically  viable  hypothesis.”  said  Forest. “I mean,  if  telekinesis  is  a  spiritual  force  acting  on  matter,  wouldn’t  it  cut  in  at  the  very  bottom  level  of  matter,  where  scientific  models  no  longer  apply?”  He  leaned  back  on  his  seat,  astounded  at  himself  and  feeling  suddenly  weak.

<p style="margin: 1em 0px"><span style="line-height: 115%; font-family: 'Times New Roman', 'serif'; font-size: 12pt">           “Wow.”  said  Bell. “You’re good.”

<p style="margin: 1em 0px"><span style="line-height: 115%; font-family: 'Times New Roman', 'serif'; font-size: 12pt">           “It’s  true  there  are  fundamental  mysteries  and  analomies  that  no  gravitational  model  can  explain.”  said  Hunter. “Dark energy  was  one  until  recently;  my  trapped  energy  may  have  solved  that  problem,  but  it  doesn’t  seem  to  have  any  bearing  on  the  dark  flow.”

<p style="margin: 1em 0px"><span style="line-height: 115%; font-family: 'Times New Roman', 'serif'; font-size: 12pt">           “Now  that  sounds  interesting.”  remarked  Bell.

<p style="margin: 1em 0px"><span style="line-height: 115%; font-family: 'Times New Roman', 'serif'; font-size: 12pt">           “Yes,  well,  it  is. Recent studies  of  the  spectra  and  redshift—that’s  the  position  of  the  color  in  a  spectrum,  Forest,  such  as  whether  it’s  on  top  or  on  bottom—of  the  galaxies  indicate  a  steady  velocity  apart  from  the  expansion  of  the  universe. A velocity  toward  a  particular  part  of  the  sky,  between  Vela  and  Centaurus  constellations,  as  if  the  stars  were  draining  in  that  direction. They’re still  expanding  outward  in  all  directions,  but  are  flowing  toward  this  spot. We can’t  explain  it. Something outside  the  universe  pulling  them…or  a  river  running  through  the  sky,  bearing  everything  with  it…some  cosmic  force  even  stranger  than  my  new  energy…”  He  fell  silent,  still  thinking.

<p style="margin: 1em 0px"><span style="line-height: 115%; font-family: 'Times New Roman', 'serif'; font-size: 12pt">           “Where  does  the  Milky  Way  lie,  with  regards  to  this  river?”  asked  Bell.

<p style="margin: 1em 0px"><span style="line-height: 115%; font-family: 'Times New Roman', 'serif'; font-size: 12pt">           “Odd  you  should  mention  that.”  Hunter  said  with  a  start. “The region  of  what  was  known  as  the  Great  Attractor—that  is,  the  source  of  the  dark  flow—lies  in  a  small  patch  of  sky  between  Centaurus  and Vela,  right  in  the  path  of  the  Milky  Way.”

<p style="margin: 1em 0px"><span style="line-height: 115%; font-family: 'Times New Roman', 'serif'; font-size: 12pt">           The  Road,  Forest  thought. They all  veer  along  the  Road.

<p style="margin: 1em 0px"><span style="line-height: 115%; font-family: 'Times New Roman', 'serif'; font-size: 12pt">

<p style="margin: 1em 0px"><span style="line-height: 115%; font-family: 'Times New Roman', 'serif'; font-size: 12pt">

<p style="margin: 1em 0px"><span style="line-height: 115%; font-family: 'Times New Roman', 'serif'; font-size: 12pt">           Kevin  opened  the  door,  and  stepped  into  darkness.

<p style="margin: 1em 0px"><span style="line-height: 115%; font-family: 'Times New Roman', 'serif'; font-size: 12pt">           Not  that  this  would  have  bothered  him  much. He was  after  all  a  creature  of   night,  and  the  rooms  in  the  middle  of  the  house  on  Big  Island  were  always  kept  shuttered,  shrouded  in  a  constant  gloom. But this  was  different. This had  a  quality  and  feel  in  it  that  made  his  fiery  soul  shrink  in  on  itself,  shivering. Thick and  tangible. He could  almost  hear  it  breathing. He slowed  to  a  stop. Memories he  had  hoped  forever  buried  were  around  him,  of  when  a  similar  choking  darkness  had  engulfed  him,  and when  he  came  out,  he  was  dragon. His teeth  began  to  chatter.

<p style="margin: 1em 0px"><span style="line-height: 115%; font-family: 'Times New Roman', 'serif'; font-size: 12pt">           A  voice  spoke  out  of  the  darkness,  ancient,  soft,  and  deep  as  the  foundations  of  time. There was  a  dreary  sadness  in  it,  and  a  dreadful  weary  mockery,  a  heavy  levity;  and  Kevin  fell  upon  his  face.

<p style="margin: 1em 0px"><span style="line-height: 115%; font-family: 'Times New Roman', 'serif'; font-size: 12pt">           “If  it  isn’t  the  dragon-boy.” <span style="line-height: 115%; font-family: 'Times New Roman', 'serif'; font-size: 12pt">  said  the  voice  of  the  darkness. ''“Well, firebaby? Why do  three  of  the  Six  walk  unfettered  through  the  Five  Villages?” ''

<p style="margin: 1em 0px"><span style="line-height: 115%; font-family: 'Times New Roman', 'serif'; font-size: 12pt">           “Master,  it—it’s  not  my  fault.”  Kevin  said  hastily. Dammit, how  could  anyone  think  with  chattering  teeth? “Brooke called  up  the  Wild  Man. I wasn’t  ready. Her house  is  under  the  Road  now.”

<p style="margin: 1em 0px"><span style="line-height: 115%; font-family: 'Times New Roman', 'serif'; font-size: 12pt">           Then  the  darkness  really  did  laugh,  a  sound  as  empty  and  jarring  as  the  crushing  of  stone. '' “Do the  Three  still  stand  above  the  house  of  the  Hill,  and  does  winterberry  bloom  about  the  dwelling  of  the  Star? Does the  Traveller  stay  hidden  in  her  hall,  or  the  Stream  lie  still  in  her  bed?” ''

<p style="margin: 1em 0px"><span style="line-height: 115%; font-family: 'Times New Roman', 'serif'; font-size: 12pt">           “Master,  Master,”  Kevin  babbled,  “I  can  still  d—d—d—“

<p style="margin: 1em 0px"><span style="line-height: 115%; font-family: 'Times New Roman', 'serif'; font-size: 12pt">           “A  stuttering  dragon,”   <span style="line-height: 115%; font-family: 'Times New Roman', 'serif'; font-size: 12pt">the  darkness  taunted, '' “who  thinks  he  is  God’s  gift  to Winsted’s  women,  yet  who  cannot  trap  two  teenage  girls. I need  them. I want  them. How can  I  walk  without  them  within  me?” ''

<p style="margin: 1em 0px"><span style="line-height: 115%; font-family: 'Times New Roman', 'serif'; font-size: 12pt">           “But,  Master,”  said  Kevin,  perking  up  a  little,  “the  Road  is  powerful. And the  Six  stand  under  protections  too  great  for  us  to  breach. We fear  the  Gods,  Master.”

<p style="margin: 1em 0px">''<span style="line-height: 115%; font-family: 'Times New Roman', 'serif'; font-size: 12pt">           “The  Gods  are  bowed  with  years  in  their  paradise  of  dreams,  and  the  Road  alone  connects  them  with  the  world  they  once  ruled. I have  watched  them  from  the  Void  as  they  twiddled  their  great  thumbs;  they  are  no  longer Lords  of  the  World,  they  are  ancient  dreamers  who  have forgotten  how  to  fight. Even bearing  the  Oppressor  I  threw  down  fivescore  and  ten. Do not  fear  them,  little  dragon. Fear me  more.” ''

<p style="margin: 1em 0px"><span style="line-height: 115%; font-family: 'Times New Roman', 'serif'; font-size: 12pt">           And  Kevin  bowed  and  worshipped  the  Darkness.

<p style="margin: 1em 0px"><span style="line-height: 115%; font-family: 'Times New Roman', 'serif'; font-size: 12pt">

<p style="margin: 1em 0px"><span style="line-height: 115%; font-family: 'Times New Roman', 'serif'; font-size: 12pt">

<p style="margin: 1em 0px"><span style="line-height: 115%; font-family: 'Times New Roman', 'serif'; font-size: 12pt">

<p style="margin: 1em 0px"><span style="line-height: 115%; font-family: 'Times New Roman', 'serif'; font-size: 12pt">           Forest  dreamed  he  was  flying.

<p style="margin: 1em 0px"><span style="line-height: 115%; font-family: 'Times New Roman', 'serif'; font-size: 12pt">           It  was  a  queer  sort  of  flight;  he  was  hunched  up  in  a  crouch  and  hovering  about  five  feet  in  the  air;  but  by  squeezing  his  brain—that’s  what  it  felt  like,  as  if  his  brain  was  a  muscle  and  could  be  clenched—he  found  he  could  glide  forward  at  a  steady  fate,  about  as  fast  as  a  bicycle,  and  steer by  conscious  direction  of  thought,  like  turning  a  handlebar  in  his  mind. He buzzed  forward,  between  parked  cars,  going  up  and  over  an  opened  door. The ground  sloped  and  he  willed  himself—or  squeezed  himself—higher,  till  he  could  with  some  care  clear  the  telephone  wires  and  dodge  treetops. Houses bumped  by  underneath  him. It was  almost  like  some  kind  of  video  game.

<p style="margin: 1em 0px"><span style="line-height: 115%; font-family: 'Times New Roman', 'serif'; font-size: 12pt">           Even  as  he  thought  this,  he  realised  the  ground  was  dropping  away  completely;  houses  and  mountains  suddenly  shrinking  to  diorama  size,  and  toy  cities  shrank  to  grids  of  dotted streets,  and  the  land  below  him  became  almost  like  a  relief  map  in  full  color,  and  slow  huge  clouds  passed  with  ponderous  majesty  like  mountainous  ships  underneath  him. Now even  these  grew  small,  till  the  earth  was  curving  and he  saw  only  cotton  wisps  on  wrinkled,  webbed  green,  and  on  either  side  a  vast  deep  blueness  was  opening  out,  gleaming  with  stars. Yet it  seemed  for  a  moment  that  a  line  ran  out  straight  from  the  top  of  the  curving  globe,  the  cottoned  air  falling  away  to  left  and  right:  a  line  that  flickered  and  was  gone.

<p style="margin: 1em 0px"><span style="line-height: 115%; font-family: 'Times New Roman', 'serif'; font-size: 12pt">           Now  with speed  unthinkable  the  Earth  spun  away  and  vanished  into  a  blue  star,  and  then  into  nothing,  as  wheels  and  spirals  of  misted  soft  stars  rotated  slowly  beneath  him  and  fell  away  in  their turn. Somehow he  was  aware  of  a  vastness  all  around  him,  packed  and  drifted  with  the  clumping  stars,  stars  beyond  stars  and  clouds  beyond  clouds:  stars  like  the  sand  of  the  sea.

<p style="margin: 1em 0px"><span style="line-height: 115%; font-family: 'Times New Roman', 'serif'; font-size: 12pt">           He  was  floating,  he  realized  now;  moveless  in  the  emptiness  that  was  not  completely  Void,  yet  still  the  stars  were  moving,  and  reeling  as  they  did;  and  then  a  great  veering  line  flashed  beneath  him  and  became  level,  and  he  was  standing  on  a  road.

<p style="margin: 1em 0px"><span style="line-height: 115%; font-family: 'Times New Roman', 'serif'; font-size: 12pt">           It  was  made  of  silver  paving-blocks  and  kerbed  with  lattices  of  a  transparent  gleaming  substance,  and  it  ran  on  before  and  behind,  and  yet  it  was  far  huger  than  what  he  saw  of  it. Like a  glowing  stripe  along  the  crest  of  some  submerged  monster  too  vast to  be  comprehended,  perhaps;  or  the  long  ridge  of  a  towering  mountain  sheathed  all  in  fog  save  for  the  ridge  breaking  out  of  it. And the  paving-blocks  were  moving,  they  were  flowing  like  a  solid  river  though  in  such  unison  they  seemed  immobile,  and  the  spirals  of  the  galaxies  were  ponderously  swinging  around  to  follow  it,  so  that  the  whole  sky  was  flowing  all  as  one. And as  Forest’s  mind,  dazzled  by  the  vastness  of  the  spectacle,  reeled  and  sped  on  with  them,  stars  broke  apart  like  mist  and  everything  stood  still.

<p style="margin: 1em 0px"><span style="line-height: 115%; font-family: 'Times New Roman', 'serif'; font-size: 12pt">           Deep,  pure  star-blue  was  all  around  him. In front  of  him  it  was  lighter,  like  noon-blue  in  autumn,  and  it  was  curled  into  intricate  shapes  like  transparent  clouds. And then  Forest  gasped,  for  he  saw  all  at  once  that  it  was  solid  like  stone,  but  if  stone  then  a  stone  so  clear  and  transparent  and  utterly  blue  as  to  resemble  rather  air  made  hard  and  given  shape. and he  saw  now  that  it  was  carved,  in  figures  so  slow  and  strange  and  complicated  he  knew  at  once that  they  were  meanings,  and  meanings  so  elemental  and  fundamental  that  an  eternity  of  staring  would  still  leave  him  ignorant.

<p style="margin: 1em 0px"><span style="line-height: 115%; font-family: 'Times New Roman', 'serif'; font-size: 12pt">           A  sound  like  ancient  thunder,  a  weaving  of  syllables  so  massive  and  simple  and  so  enormously powerful  they  cracked  above  his  head  and  fell  like  stone  upon  his  ears,  broke  out  around  him;  and  now  he  saw  the  blueness  nearby  was  peopled  with  tremendous  shapes. Shapes of  majesty  and  grace  like  the  sweeping  limbs  of  ancient  trees;  shapes  of  stern  power  like  kings  hewn  out  of  stone  from  the  side  of  a  mountain;  shapes  as  beautiful  and  delicate  as  piled  fountains  of  sprayed  ice;  and  all  of  them  were  laid  with  years  like  the  unseen  drifting  of  uncounted  snows;  and  they  were  speaking. And all  their  faces  were  bent  to  the  throne  that  Forest  faced,  and  lifting  up  his  eyes  to  it  he  saw  there  seated  a  form  more  mighty  and  terrible  than  all  the  others. White hair  like  flowless  snow  wreathed  him  round,  and  his  giant  thews  were  old  and  hard  as  rocks,  and  of  blue  and  red  were  his  falling  robes  that  flowed  down  his  throne  like  streams  of  fire. His face,  ancient  and  beautiful,  looked  as  if  the  wisdom  of  the  entire  world  had  been  cast  into  form  and  made  a  shape;  and  his  eyes,  level  as  any  eagle’s,  gleamed  with  a  weary  brightness.

<p style="margin: 1em 0px"><span style="line-height: 115%; font-family: 'Times New Roman', 'serif'; font-size: 12pt">           The  giant  castles  of  sound  fell  about  his  ears  again,  and  Forest  knew  with  a  sudden  clarity  that  burnt  like  fire  who  this  ancient  being  was;  and  the  knowledge  knocked  him  spinning  away  like  a  leaf,  and  stars  whirled  and  wheeled  about  him,  and  dreams  took  him.