Nightmare's Edge

by Bryan Davis

  The wonderful words continued, as sweet as ever. “You are the gifted one, my love, and you are playing the celestial waltz.”

  Scarlet? But he couldn’t utter her name, not while playing. Not with all this pain. And he couldn’t see if the red-haired angel had appeared. It was just too dark. But that voice wasn’t Scarlet’s. It was Kelly’s, though it seemed bathed in pure peace and contentment.

  With pain scourging his mind, he stroked the strings with every ounce of passion he had. Mictar responded. Sparks shot upward, red from Nathan’s violin and a jumble of red, blue, and yellow from Mictar’s, giving away his position. He was close, maybe within reach, but the blackness made it difficult to know how close.

  Nathan watched the sparks shoot upward into the darkness. His stream mingled with Mictar’s, the two seeming to fight as they ascended. High above, they stopped and mixed into two new streams descending from higher levels, each coming in at a steep angle, a blue stream from the left and a yellow one from the right.

  “I hear more violins!” Daryl pumped her fist. “Rock on, Francesca!”

  Goose bumps covered Nathan’s skin. His mother had arrived with her greatest weapon, and little Francesca, his darling from the Yellow world, had taken up her bow. The battle was on. The breath of God had taken center stage. Mictar didn’t stand a chance.

  Nathan again bent his body and dug deep. Heat flowed from his belly and ripped through his limbs. His hands felt like they were on fire, but he didn’t care. Let the fire burn. Let the blood flow. This performance was for his Lord; no holds barred, nothing left unplayed.

  As if given birth by the music itself, the words returned, still spoken in Kelly’s gentle voice, still carrying wisdom beyond her reach.

  “Now you are in Sarah’s Womb, my love, a place of comfort and healing. As the trio of gifted musicians mend her wounds, she will rise again. She will separate the worlds and guide them in their dance through time and space. Everyone in her grasp will feel her healing touch — the touch of her creator, the greatest of all healers.”

  The mingling of sparks descended, a cyclone of color, like fireworks that wouldn’t die. As the storm reached the ground, Nathan’s stream continued to fly toward it, angling into a horizontal flow. The swirl looked to be the size of the top of Sarah’s Womb, the hole the great violin spanned with its golden strings.

  As if drawn by a gravitational pull, Nathan walked toward the swirl. Kelly kept a hand on his shoulder while Clara’s hand slid down to his waist. Daryl kept pace at his right, her candle in hand, while Mictar’s sparks flowed at his left, still mixing with Nathan’s.

  When he reached the edge, he halted and gazed across its expanse. The storm of sparks illuminated everything within an arm’s reach. On the other side of the storm and to his left, his father and mother stood, his mother playing her violin with bloody hands. Cerulean walked up behind them, his arms crossed over his chest and his brilliant blue eyes shining. A dark tunnel lay behind them, their path to this central point.

  Far to the right, Francesca Yellow stood in a simple white dress, Amber at her side. While Amber shed an aura of glowing gold, Francesca seemed to radiate white. With her dark locks draping her luminous shoulders, Francesca truly looked like an angel. As she played her violin, sparkling tears ran down her cheeks and dripped into the swirl, adding a new color to the musical storm — pure white, like diamonds mixing in with the rainbow streams. She, too, stood in front of a tunnel, apparently her passage from Earth Yellow.

  Below, a dark void spread out beneath the sparks, bordered by a perimeter wall that acted as a circular boundary for the cyclone, keeping it from expanding further.

  While his hands continued to blaze, Nathan stared at the amazing sight. This vertical chamber must have been the larger cylinder that hovered in the sky, while the three paths to the central point were likely the branches that had stretched to the three Earths.

  Clara stood at the very edge of the sparkling storm and shouted at Nathan’s father on the other side. “Solomon, Mictar is somewhere close. He is wounded, but he is interrupting the music. I’m not sure how much longer Nathan can go on.” She looked back at Nathan for a moment, her expression a blend of feigned confidence and worry, then turned back to the cyclone.

  “Any suggestions?”

  Nathan’s father’s voice boomed from his Earth Blue position. “There is a narrow ledge that goes around the hole. I tried to come around, but I could barely keep my feet on the path, and those sparks are like live wires.”

  Daryl pushed her candle into Clara’s hand. “I’ll make sure that cocky zombie takes his final bow.” With her fists clenched, Daryl rushed toward the source of the foul music.

  “Daryl!” Kelly cried. “No!”

  Two seconds after Daryl disappeared, a loud thud sounded, then grunts and groans. Nathan lifted his bow and looked, but a new voice — low, masculine, and familiar — sprang up from Francesca Yellow’s direction. “Play on, Nathan! You must not stop.”

  His bow hovering over the strings, Nathan looked toward the source of the voice. Patar strode toward them over the top of the storm. His sandals seemed to absorb the sparks, and a dimmer path appeared in his wake. Something protruded from the top of his trousers’ pocket, something plastic. When he hopped down to their side, he pushed the plastic out of sight and looked Nathan in the eye. “Now that Mictar is down, you are free to complete the healing! You cannot stop now! Not for Daryl, not for anyone!”

  Kelly tapped Nathan’s shoulder. “Keep playing. I’ll help Daryl.” She ran into the darkness. Clara followed, carrying the candle. Its glow illuminated the struggling trio on the ground. Arms, hair, and fists flew, along with growls and shrieks, but it was impossible to tell who was getting the upper hand.

  “Stay back, Clara,” Nathan yelled as he stepped toward the fray.

  Patar stopped him with a rigid arm. “You must play the key, Nathan Shepherd! Forsake the few you love and rescue the unlovable masses. This is true sacrifice. You were called to this task, and you have suffered a great deal to get here. Do not turn from your sacred duty now.” He lowered his arm and turned toward Mictar. “I will deal with my brother at the proper time.”

  Nathan raised the bow and watched, shaking so hard he could barely stand. Patar walked toward the candlelight slowly, too slowly. Nathan began “Foundation’s Key” again, but the driving fire in his hands had cooled. The notes sounded wrong — flat and lifeless.

  As Patar drew close, Mictar threw Daryl to the side but hung on to Kelly, her back against his chest and his arm around her waist. “Not another step, brother!” Mictar sat up and laid a hand over Kelly’s eyes. “Or you know how much she will suffer.”

  Nathan cringed. He played, but just barely. His mind screamed at Patar to stop Mictar. But would he?

  Patar pointed at his twin. “Do not think that your threats will stop me from exacting justice, brother. You killed my mate and many others, so you must die.”

  Now on her hands and knees, Daryl crawled to Nathan. Her face marred by deep scratches and her hair matted by blood, she looked up at him with pleading eyes. “Don’t . . .” She coughed and spat. “Don’t trust Patar. You have to save her yourself.”

  Nathan pulled Daryl to her feet, but she couldn’t stand on her own. As he lowered her back to the ground, he whispered, “I have to let her go. I have to sacrifice what I love and keep playing.” Again he stroked the strings with his bow, and again the notes sounded pitiful, cursed by fear and hatred.

  Patar set his hands on his hips. “What do I care about that girl’s pathetic eyes? They are of no value in her own world. Why should they be of any value to me?”

  “You surprise even me,” Mictar said. As light spilled out from behind his hands, Kelly screamed and thrashed her arms and legs. The stalker held on tight, his body seeming to radiate a light of its own. Kelly struggled, but she seemed weaker. Then, her screams fell silent.

  20

  BLINDNESS

  Nathan dropped
the violin and charged. He pushed Patar to the side, grabbed Kelly around the waist, and pulled, but Mictar held fast.

  As smoke rose from Kelly’s eyes, Nathan grunted through every word. “Give . . . her . . . to . . . me!”

  Mictar’s evil face grew brighter than ever. “She is no good to you now. She will be blind and helpless, an invalid you will have to feed and dress. She’s as good as dead.”

  Nathan peeled Mictar’s lethal hand back, revealing Kelly’s charred sockets, but he couldn’t pry her free. “She’s more valuable blind than I am with sight.”

  Mictar snorted. “That is saying very little.”

  “If you let her go, I’ll . . .”

  “You’ll what?” Mictar turned his hand and dug his pointed nails into Nathan’s wrist. “Are you offering to take her place again? You lack creativity.”

  “Creative or not, that’s my offer.”

  “Be gone, fool. Your mother has already provided the catalytic element, and your little harlot has given me enough energy to feed Lucifer. So why would I need you?” Mictar planted a foot on Nathan’s chest and shoved him backwards. Still holding to Kelly, Nathan flew away and tumbled across the ground while she slid to a stop nearby, writhing and moaning.

  Clara leaped for Kelly and gathered her into her arms. Kelly reached for her face with her fingers. They passed over her eye sockets, for a moment interrupting the rising strings of smoke.

  “My eyes!” she screamed. “They’re on fire! I can’t see!”

  Crawling on hands and knees, Daryl scooted closer. She grabbed Kelly’s wrists and forced them against her chest. “Just relax, honey,” Daryl said, weeping. “Don’t touch your burns. Just take deep breaths. We’ll take care of you.”

  Nathan struggled to his feet, holding his head. He wobbled, unable to figure out what to do next. One thought crowded out all others: Kelly was hurt, and he had to help her.

  Boosted by Kelly’s energy, Mictar rose to his full height. His skin glowed white, and his eyes shone red.

  “Clara!” Nathan’s father called from beyond the storm. “Is everyone okay?”

  “No! I think Nathan’s all right, but Kelly’s not.”

  “Should the Francescas keep playing? The swirl is dying.”

  Patar shook his head. “They can stop. They have already provided substantial healing, but the foundation points have likely shifted. We will have to employ the final option if we are to complete the task.”

  Picking up his violin, Mictar glared at Patar. His glow pulsed in a heartbeat rhythm. “Are you such a fool that you think I have no plan to stop this final option of yours?”

  Patar turned back to him. “Let us say that I am such a fool.”

  With several quick strokes, Mictar played a violent run of dissonant notes.

  Kelly called out, her voice a lament as she translated the music. “I come. Release Lucifer and let him roar!”

  Like flying embers, the notes shot toward the spinning storm, hesitated a moment over the swirl, and then zoomed upward into the cylinder. Mictar followed, leaping into the cyclone and soaring around and around, ever upward until he was out of sight.

  “Whoa!” Daryl called. “That can’t be good.”

  Patar’s eyes blazed as red as his brother’s. “Mictar has called for his allies in my world to start the Lucifer engine. Come! We must leave this place.”

  Nathan staggered to Kelly and lifted her away from Clara. Her arms fell limp. Although she was breathing, she showed no other signs of life. “What about Kelly?” he asked. “How can she be healed?”

  “Her physical eyes have burned,” Patar said. “They can never be restored, but if you will finally heed my words, you will be able to gain the power to recover her lost energy.”

  Patar helped Nathan shift Kelly’s body to a better carrying position. “The storm of music will end soon,” Patar continued. “Then we must follow my brother and ascend the Womb’s canal to the great violin. That is where the final step must take place. If, indeed, the Lucifer lion begins to growl, that passage might close.”

  In the distance, the cyclone slowed its spin and formed an inverted funnel that channeled the sparks straight up. As tiny lights vanished in the upper reaches, the edges of the swirl contracted, and the darkness grew thick again.

  In the light of the few lingering sparks, Nathan caught only brief snapshots of his parents, Francesca Yellow, and the supplicants. His father eased around the hole, his back to the wall as he carefully guided his feet along the narrow path. Nathan’s mother followed, as did Cerulean. On the opposite side, Francesca and Amber did the same, each one spreading her arms for balance.

  “Son!” Solomon called as he arrived hand in hand with his wife. “Is she alive?”

  Nathan nodded, but he couldn’t speak. With Kelly near death, he barely managed enough strength to breathe. It was as though his spirit weakened in proportion to her dwindling life force.

  His father held out his arms. “Give her to me. I’ll carry her for you.”

  Shaking his head, Nathan refocused on Kelly. Now with only a candle flame flickering across her lovely face, she seemed ghostly. She had saved his life so many times, but now she was helpless. His heart ached, and he let the passion flow. He had to give it all back, every ounce of love she had shown him, even after he responded with doubt and distrust. Now if only she would wake up and live, he would show her the love she deserved — pure, holy, unconditional.

  Squaring his shoulders, he lifted Kelly higher. “I have to carry her.”

  “I understand, son, but don’t take it too far. Let your loved ones help you bear your burdens.”

  “Right, but not just yet.”

  His mother pushed back his hair. “I see it in your eyes, my son. You have found the passion, haven’t you?”

  “I think so, but is it enough? Will Kelly ever — ”

  From somewhere high above, a long note sounded, sung at a high pitch. Another joined it, and soon, a choir of several voices screeched a horrible tune, if it could be called a tune at all.

  Patar laid a hand on Amber’s shoulder. “Are you ready?”

  Her face looking paler than usual, Amber nodded. “I am ready.”

  Patar reached for Cerulean. “And you?”

  The male supplicant’s blue eyes shone like radiant sapphires. “I have cradled my beloved’s dream image of herself, but I have not yet found her living body. Although my friend Jack still searches for her, I have little hope that he can find her.” Cerulean bowed his head and folded his hands at his waist. “Still, if you command this step, I will take it.”

  With an arm around each supplicant, Patar walked toward the spot where the sparks had spun. “Come, everyone. Although our three players have given us more time, we must make haste before Lucifer roars.”

  Still cradling Kelly, Nathan followed. Daryl shuffled along at his side, carrying her bag and candle once again. “I feel like Edward Scissorhands gave me a facial, but at least my legs are okay.”

  Nathan winced. “I hope you don’t get scars.”

  “Me, too.” She held the candle close to her eyes. “I’m not exactly vain, but how often does the world get to see a face as gorgeous as mine?”

  He gazed at her half-hearted grin. Obviously she was trying to lighten his mood, but it wasn’t working.

  When Patar and the two supplicants stopped at the edge of the hole, Patar looked up.

  Solomon arrived next and faced him. “What do you have in mind?”

  “Elevation. We have to rise into the heart of Sarah’s Womb.”

  “But how? We can’t fly.”

  Patar turned to Solomon and gave him a condescending stare.

  “By now, my friend, you should have learned that the rules of physics are not the same in my world, but your ignorance matters little at the moment. I will guide us from here.”

  Nathan shook his head. Patar never was one for polite talk. Still, all the caterwauling flowing down from the misty world was enough to make anyone
irritable, especially considering the danger it signaled.

  Francesca Yellow raised her hand. “If you don’t need me, sir, I would like to return. My husband is badly wounded.”

  “Very well.” Patar nodded toward the tunnel leading to Earth Yellow. “Follow the path. It will lead you back to the foundation point.”

  “I’ll go with her,” Clara said. “I’ve patched up our Solomon a few times.”

  After Francesca and Clara made their way around the hole and then through the tunnel, everyone gathered at the edge. Patar looked again into the darkness above. “Most of you have seen images of the dream worlds and Sarah’s central Womb, but now we are standing underneath what you saw. Though your vision is inadequate to perceive it, the violent shaking of the cosmos has ripped apart the barrier that separates the dream worlds. Yet they are still held together by a force I cannot discern. I would have thought they would fly apart.”

  “Even Earth Red’s?” Nathan asked. “It wasn’t supposed to crash with the other two.”

  “How little you know.” Patar formed a cylinder with his hands. “The three worlds, both the real and the imagined, are linked in an interdependent bond. If any one of them is lost, the others would be thrown out of balance, as I am sure you learned.”

  Daryl nodded. “You mean Earth Red’s loss of analog communication.” “Very good. And the more they diverge, the worse their conditions. They would eventually perish in a fashion more excruciating than what they would have experienced from interfinity.”

  “What would you call that?” Daryl asked. “Extrafinity?”

  Patar glowered at her. “I assume you think that to be a clever quip. Perhaps you will also deduce the reason the dream worlds hold together.”

  “Uh . . . no. I haven’t figured that out yet.”

  “Then leave the cleverness to me.”

  Daryl leaned close to Nathan and whispered, “Wow! This guy is really fluorescent.”