Prospero Regained

by L. Jagi Lamplighter

  Strong arms embraced me from behind. I caught whiffs of brimstone and an intoxicating masculine scent. My forehead tingled.

  “I have caught you, my sweet.” Seir of the Shadows’s laughter suddenly cut off. “Argh! Your wings are burning me.”

  “You came!” I whispered.

  “Of course, my love, how could it be otherwise? Were you to perish, it would be as if my very self had died.”

  I twisted about until I faced him. This seared him briefly but put my wings behind me. Leaning closer, the sable incubus whispered in my ear, “I rescued your brother as you requested. Now, I have come to claim my reward.”

  We fell together, plummeting toward the flames. The world turned to darkness, and then, I was standing amidst the swirling mist of Limbo again, to one side of the battle, with the incubus’s arms still wrapped tightly about my waist.

  He gestured at my forehead with his head. “This is the reward I seek. To be free.”

  “Astreus! I thought you were dead!”

  “Love saved me.” The incubus spoke with Astreus’s voice. “Love is stronger than any curse or oath. It is stronger than the waters of the Lethe. Love is the strongest thing in the universe, and nothing in Hell can dim it.”

  I looked up into his laughing green eyes and, for an instant, I felt as if I was the one who had resisted the Torturers a thousand years lest I lose my chance at Heaven; as if I was the one who had pursued the White Lady through field and forest, hill and dell, on the faint glimmer of a suggestion that there might be a way to freedom; as if I was the one who had fallen in love with the young woman who bore within her the hope of this promise; as if I was the one who had waited over three hundred years to bring her the key that could set us both free.

  Coming back to myself, I would have stumbled backward had he not been holding me so tightly. I swayed in his embrace, a strange tingle running up and down my limbs and making them weak.

  All this time, all these years, I had completely misunderstood him. I had ascribed to him every elvish and quixotic motive I could invent. I had doubted his every action, his every word. When all the time, his motives had been entirely plain and straightforward.

  Hope and love.

  Within me, my heart took flight. It swelled until it seemed too large for my body, too large for the unending cavern of Limbo, too large for all of space and time. Only Heaven was large enough to encompass it now.

  Touching two fingers to my forehead, I tapped his shoulder. He jerked, startled. I declared: “I call upon the Sixth Gift of the Sibyl! Astreus Stormwind, I release you from any and all oaths you have ever sworn, to anyone. You are free!”

  A cloud of dark snow rose about Seir, accompanied by a faint scent of brimstone. Within the darkness, he grew taller. Then, the air cleared, and Astreus stood in Seir’s ripped opera cloak, his eyes a triumphant violet. We embraced and, laughing, he kissed me again, this time with his own lips, which were as cool and fresh as a winter’s breeze. And I was still there. I had not fallen away into dreams.

  Pulling away, I looked up at him from the circle of his arms—for suddenly an idea had struck me, a terrible, wonderful idea. It was an idea so awe-inspiring that just thinking of it caused tremors of heat and cold to shoot across my limbs.

  “Astreus,” I asked slowly, “how many elves have been tithed?”

  “Altogether?” He tilted back his head, calculating. “Hundreds of millions, if not more.”

  “Where are they?”

  “Most of them work for Lilith.”

  I regarded the hellish host. “Really? You mean they are right here?”

  “Many of them, yes.”

  “What would happen if I picked one, say that one”—I pointed at an ouphie who was jumping up and down on the back of Mephisto’s Mammoth—“and freed him from his oath to Hell.”

  Astreus gazed at me, his attention arrested. His eyes had turned that eerie angelic gold. “He would go free, I expect.”

  “Has any Sibyl ever freed an elf?”

  “Occasionally. They only seem to stay free for a time. There is some trick to it that I do not know.”

  “But they do go free at first?”

  “Yes. They do.”

  Staring at the raging horde, I whispered hoarsely, “It couldn’t be that easy.”

  “But what if it is?”

  “Well…” I gulped. “There’s only one way to find out.”

  Touching my forehead, I pointed at the field of battle. In a loud voice, I cried: “By the power invested in me as a Sibyl of Eurynome”—a lightning bolt flashed across the gloom overhead—“I release all elves, servants of the High Council, fairies, sylphs, bwca, dwarves, salamanders, undine, djinn, oreads, ouphie, oni, and all other elementals and denizens of Fairyland, everywhere, from their oath to the Infernal Powers! There shall be no more tithe to Hell!”

  Puffs of darkness rose everywhere at once. The smell of brimstone hung thick in the air. Evil peris became pixies. Imps transformed into fairies and winged sprites. Ouphe became sylphs and Aerie Ones. To my left, Mab let out a whoop and threw his hat into the air.

  “Hey, look!” he cried, pointing in the direction of the general jubilation and waving with great enthusiasm. “It’s my cousin!”

  Not all the troops transformed, but most of those who did were from Lilith’s personal retinue. The newly restored faery folk wreaked havoc with the lines of battle. Laughing, singing, and turning cartwheels, they tumbled away in all directions, dashing about randomly and tripping their comrades.

  Astreus threw back his head and laughed with joy, a sound that was very different from the laughter of mortals. “For longer than your sun has burned have I dreamt of this day! Surely, this…”

  His voice trailed off as he looked down, frowning. Light streamed from his finger tips.

  Raising his hand, Astreus stared in puzzlement at the beams of golden light that sprouted from each finger. As he moved his hand, the five beams were visible against the mists of limbo. Then, holy golden light began to radiate from his eyes, from his mouth, and from every pore of his skin. The opera cloak split down the back as wings unfolded from his shoulders.

  Then, a second pair.

  And a third, and a fourth, and a fifth, and a sixth and a seventh—until eight pairs of wings had sprouted. By this time, Astreus was fifteen feet tall and clothed in splendor. His face was glorious. In his eyes, I could see the majesty of the night sky, as if the universe itself was contained within him, but one of his many secrets.

  Awe paralyzed me. My limbs trembled as if pricked by needle points of holy fire. The bones of my face and jaw vibrated like the plucked string of a harp. I could no more speak or move than I could have melted the ices of Pluto and sent the planet careening from its orbit by an act of will.

  On the battlefield, lesser demons and denizens of Fairyland alike turned and fled. Running randomly in their panic, they screamed, “Angel!”

  A distance away to the left, my brother Mephisto smacked himself on the forehead. “D’oh! Of course!”

  He was in his smaller human form again, bruised and bloody, with all his clothes ripped; however, I could not see any open wounds. He tapped his staff, and I began to imagine a glorious sight.

  The imagined became reality: The Archangel Uriel, Regent of the Sun, Protector of Earth, and Lord of the West Quadrant, strode across the battlefield.

  Towering more than twenty feet tall, Uriel was clad in armor of shining Urim, too bright to look upon, and a surcoat of purest gold. Over his arm, he carried an enormous shield, which I recognized as the Shield of Virtue. Nine pairs of eagles’ wings sprang from his back, and nine halos shed illumination above his head: a golden circle, a ring of blue sky, a ring of fire, moons, stars, a circle of starlight, comets, a ring of sunlight, and constellations. Beholding his face was like beholding the face of God.

  Nor was it merely the eye that saw the glory of his coming. Rays of spiritual warmth the eye could not behold radiated from this Servant of High Heaven
. Like the first crocus bud of spring raising its head out of the snow to unfold its pale lavender petals toward the warmth of the life-giving sun, my heart, my very being, was lifted out of the dreary darkness.

  One could not look upon the Seraph and not rejoice.

  Uriel drew his flaming sword and stepped up beside Astreus. The two of them strode across the battlefield. All Limbo trembled in the angels’ wake, and the dark mists of which it consisted began to disperse. Some shades rushed away pell-mell. Others paused their endless chase for the first time in what might have been a century, or a millennia. Their wispy bodies took upon themselves form and substance where the light that shone from the Regent fell upon them. Raising their heads like men, they fell in step behind Uriel, marching and singing hymns in unison.

  An undulating wail rose from the combatants. The demons and their cohorts, both high ranking and low, dropped their weapons and fled. They stampeded toward the Gate of False Dreams, knocking each other down and running over their cohorts. We gave way quickly, letting them go.

  And that was that. The battle had ended. We had won.

  We stood there stunned, watching the angels in awe. Mephisto was the first to recover. He tapped his staff numerous times, sending away the healthier of his creatures, one after another. Then, he grabbed my arm and dragged me from one to another of the wounded ones. I smiled at his brave furred and feathered friends, and felt warmth flow from my forehead toward them. We were able to save all but the magnificent roc, whose vast body lay stiff and lifeless. Mephisto sat down on its wing and cried.

  My family was now scattered across the vast emptiness of Limbo. Those who had been on the outside of Gregor’s barrier of silence stood at some distance. Eventually, we regrouped near the two empty thrones—I gave the one on the left wide berth.

  I made my way back to my brothers. Titus, Theo, Gregor, and Caliban were bleeding profusely: Titus from his thigh wound where he had been gored by a horned demon; Theo from the gash across his forehead; Gregor from deep cuts in his shoulder, arm, and hip; and Caliban from a slash across his chest as well as slashes on his legs. Blood still oozed from Logistilla’s many cuts on her face and neck, though they were healing quickly, thanks to the Water of Life I had given her. Ulysses moved stiffly, massaging his hurt arm.

  Erasmus was sunburned on one side of his face. Apparently he had gotten too close to Theo’s blast. Mab had that ugly wound in his shoulder where the demi-goblin had bitten him, and Father had taken a bad blow to the back of the head. I had a scratch or two, though I was basically unharmed.

  Only Mephisto was entirely unscathed.

  As my family drew back together, I imagined the world from the point of view of each one and felt the living love stream from my forehead into their weakened bodies. Smiles replaced scowls, and they all stood straighter and began to walk with more ease, except for Caliban, who continued to limp.

  Of the enemy, the only ones left were several dozen fish, who flopped helplessly in the drifting mist, unable to flee. In the distance, the two angels had stopped to converse. The taller one was arrayed in nine glorious halos. The second angel, only slightly shorter, bore no halo at all. I watched them with heavy heart, realizing that I had freed Astreus, or maybe I should say Astriel, only to lose him to Heaven.

  At least, I could take joy in his triumphant return to Heaven. I truly had granted his heart’s desire.

  Erasmus halted suddenly and began glancing about.

  “Where is Cornelius?” he asked.

  CHAPTER

  THIRTY-ONE

  Tears for the Living

  We found Cornelius upon the battlefield standing over a prone body. He gazed down at it, puzzled. As I grew closer, my stomach did an odd kind of flip. The body at Cornelius’s feet had a bandana wrapped about its head, but the Cornelius standing above it wore no bandana. Instead, he looked around in astonishment, gazing at his hands, glorying in his new-found sight.

  “So, here you are!” Erasmus came up and slapped Cornelius’s shoulder. His hand went right through Cornelius. Erasmus’s face crumpled in horror. “High Holy God! You are dead!”

  Cornelius smiled. “Yes, but my sight has been restored. Oh, the beauty, the wonder of color and shape! I had forgotten how much I had been missing!”

  “If you think Limbo is spectacular, you should see the world above.”

  “Or the one above that,” said Cornelius, “for I believe that is where I am headed.”

  Two angels with wings of purest white descended a single golden ray that split the darkness of Limbo. They were not as brilliant as the Regent of the Sun, who still strode across the battlefield in the distance, with Astreus at his side, but they radiated a holy glow that made me feel as if I had just awakened, refreshed, upon a warm summer morning. Most of the wraiths fled from the brightness, but a few began circling the ray, as if attempting to climb it.

  The angels alighted on either side of Cornelius. If a tongue were granted to a harp, it would have sounded much like their voices. Upon hearing them, my spirits lifted and I felt as if I could dance with weightless grace or even fly.

  “Come, Child of the Earth, we are here to bring you to Heaven.”

  “Stop! Leave him!” Father brandished the Staff of Eternity. “You may not take him!”

  Some of the leaves and flowers had been damaged in the fight, and bits of demon ichor still clung to it, but it was already repairing itself. The broken blossoms and branches straightened more quickly when the angels’ radiance shone upon them.

  Reaching Cornelius, Father touched his staff to Cornelius’s body. A bridge of rosy and azure light sprang up arching from the body to Cornelius’s spirit.

  “Father, please…” Cornelius bowed his head. “Let me go.”

  “What do you mean?” Father asked sharply. “Is all our work to be for nothing, again?”

  “Cornelius, don’t be a fool!” Erasmus insisted. “Get back in your body!”

  “Please,” Cornelius begged again. “Don’t ask me to go back into the darkness.”

  Father drew back and put his hand on his chest, across his heart. Erasmus let out a long wordless moan. Titus limped over, tears in his eyes. The rest of us stood helplessly, torn with sorrow. Logistilla turned away, crying.

  “Come with us, Cornelius.” The angelic voices swelled like a choir, though there were only two. “We shall bring you to your long awaited reward in Paradise.”

  Cornelius’s face lit up. He straightened, as if the weight of the world had been lifted from his shoulders. He resembled a different person, the man he might have been had secrecy and lust for power not corrupted his generous nature—a man I might have loved as dearly as I loved Theo.

  Nor was Cornelius the only one affected. Around me, the faces of my other siblings were bathed in the light of Heavenly joy. While in the presence of the Messenger of the Gods they had sparkled with cleverness and wit; now, in the presence of angels, they seemed young and fresh, as if the centuries of distrust and toil had never happened, and they were still unfallen and whole.

  I, too, felt uplifted, as if I had been wallowing in the mud, crying, my face buried in my hands, and some vast and glorious presence had come and helped me up, lifting me out of both my squalor and my sorrow.

  “Cor-Cornelius is going to Heaven!” Theo cried. His face was slack with shock and relief.

  “Of course.” Cornelius’s shade patted Theo’s hand kindly. “I did my duty.”

  “And I was worried? I have been a greater fool than I thought!” Theo gave a burst of joyful laughter, and Cornelius laughed with him.

  We all laughed with them. I stepped forward and, leaning toward Cornelius, whispered, “Finally, you get your wish.”

  “My wish?” Cornelius inclined his head, just as he had done when he could not see.

  “The one you made on New Year’s,” I reminded him. “You finally get to retire.”

  Cornelius closed his eyes and his spirit body sagged, as if shouldering a great burden. Opening hi
s eyes again, he turned to the divine emissaries.

  “Thank you, kind Messengers of Heaven, but I must decline. My sister is right. To go now to my final reward—when Father’s staff would allow me to remain—is no different than choosing retirement. I must stay, for the battle is not yet won and much remains for me to do.”

  “No!” I cried, immediately regretting my words. “Cornelius! Don’t stay. You have a chance to go to Heaven! Isn’t that what this is all about?”

  Erasmus opened his mouth, stopped, opened it again, and stopped again. Finally, he said, “I cannot advise you. I cannot urge you either to eschew Heaven or to give up on life if you can continue to lie.”

  “Come with us.” One of the angels extended a shining hand toward Cornelius. Just hearing the angel’s voice brought a feeling of serenity. Its voice rippled like a sacred harp. “Years, centuries, you have labored in darkness, bearing far more than most are ever asked to bear; even the hardest mortal life ordinarily lasts but the blink of an eye. There is no need for you to return to the darkness. Come with us into the Light.”

  Cornelius’s gaze rested on the heavenly messenger, his face full of longing. He looked like a shipwrecked man who had been dragged out of the ocean into paradise and was now contemplating diving back in.

  “Go, My Son,” my father said finally, his voice breaking. “You have earned your rest. Though … though, nothing. Go with my blessing.”

  “Come. All the Choirs of Heaven wait to sing your praises.” The angel extended his proffered hand.

  Cornelius’s eyes locked on that hand as if it were the last hope of a drowning man, almost totally submerged, before he went under.

  “No.” He shook his head firmly. “The Heavenly Choir will just have to wait a bit longer. There is still work to be done here.” He looked down at his body. “Really, the darkness isn’t so bad.…” His voice trailed off.

  “We shall await the glorious day when you return for your final reward,” the angels sang in unison. They flew once over the battlefield before rising back up the white beam. As they went, their wings swept up the wraiths who had been circling about their golden light and those more substantial shades who had fallen into step behind Uriel, who ascended singing hymns.