by Mur Lafferty
He soared high over the road, forgetting for a moment the army that headed toward heaven, toward Kate, and toward the new Earth. Flying was exquisite — freedom incarnate. Then the first arrow whizzed past him and he snapped out of his reverie and picked up speed, climbing in the sky to get out of the reach of their weaponry. More arrows and stones followed, and Daniel became aware of presences behind him.
Ah, crap. I forgot they had flying demons with them, he thought. At least seven demons of varying size were flying to catch up to him. Little, fast demons closed the gap quickly, presumably to entangle him until the bigger demons could catch up. With Horus advising him, Daniel abruptly folded his wings and pointed his head downward. The army below him dragged complicated weaponry with them; a large wooden construct that Daniel recognized as a trebuchet. The ropes and handles created a netlike mess, and Daniel angled himself toward it.
More arrows slipped past him in the air and in a stroke of luck one of his pursuers screamed and fell from the sky, skewered by friendly fire. They were closing in on his tail feathers and Daniel hesitated for a moment, then headed straight into the mess of wood and ropes that made the trebuchet. There was a small hole that looked too small for a pigeon, but Horus directed him there.
A clawed hand closed around his tail just as he folded his wings to his chest, winced, and slipped through the hole in the ropes. They scraped against his feathers, but his momentum carried him clear. He jerked back briefly, but was able to continue as his tail feathers stayed with the demon and momentum carried him past the end of the ranks of the demons.
He faltered in flight, unable to fly solidly without the stabilizing tail feathers, and landed painfully, human again, on his knees. He scrambled to his feet and ran, not looking behind him.
Daniel lay on his back in the middle of the familiar roundabout of heaven. The road had cracked and was weeping a black ooze. The sand in the center of the roundabout had gone black. He wondered where he would go. He wondered how she was doing. He reached into his robe where he'd stashed the note from her. He broke the seal and stared at it.
Come back to me. When this is over, no matter what happens, come back to me.
He read it three times, then held it in his hand tightly until it burst into flames. The fire didn't hurt. It more felt as if he were absorbing her words, imprinting them into his hand so he wouldn't forget her request. When the paper was gone, he slipped his hands under his head and stared at the sky, where the storm clouds gathered. Finally a plan began to form, and he sat up, picked a road, and then began walking.
CHAPTER SEVEN
In the beginning was the Room and it was Empty. No winds blew and no rains poured. The Goddess came through the door and shed a tear at the lack of joy, and behold: The oceans were formed. A drop of blood brought the land and she watched over us as the young Earth turned.
While the Goddess had many lovers, we were her only children. When she was angry with one lover, the world split and changed. The Northern Continent was formed, and with it went the animals. The Southern Continent was formed and with it went the people. And the Western Islands were formed and with it went the monks, for monks were not people at all, but actually created from the drops of the goddess's blood. In the East formed the whirlpool that led to the Underworld.
The Goddess was troubled. She wanted her children to live together in peace and she wanted her monks to spread her word. So, she came to the world in the body of a woman, in disguise. First she visited the island of the monks. “Who here will take the word of the Goddess to the people?” she asked. The monks, who had built lovely temples and cities to her, laughed at her. “The uneducated do not deserve the word of the Goddess!”
She left the city, weeping. From her tears came warrior monks who knew their goals were not simply to worship her, but to spread her word of peace. They followed her. From a dream she once had, she constructed a ship and crossed the ocean with her monks, commanding that the island of monks never be visited again by any living being.
Without the aid of the Western monks to remind them, the people in the South had forgotten her and lived in squalor, destroying her land with poor farming and mining, treating their rich like kings and their poor like slaves. She wept again, and from her tears formed a hill, and on the hill a shining golden temple. The poor gathered around her as she sat in the muddy courtyard of the temple and formed ten people from mud: peasant monks who could teach the people about how to properly treat the Earth, respect the weather, and raise animals of aid and food.
“Who will carry the word of the Goddess through the land?” she called to the waiting throngs of poor. Seventeen men and women raised their hands while the rest avoided her eyes. She marked the seventeen as her disciples, and then left the temple populated by warrior monks and the peasant monks and took her disciples with her. They boarded her holy ship and went north to the land of the animals.
“This is my sanctuary,” she whispered, and the people flung themselves to the deck of the ship upon seeing the great birds and magical creatures. They were convinced they would be devoured, but the creatures left them alone, many of the more intelligent beasts recognizing the Goddess and bowing to her in deference. They ended up in a desert oasis where the goddess meditated and preached her message.
“Do not fear the darkness,” she said. “Do not fear the unknown. Trust in yourself and trust in your friends. The most enduring thing in the world is love, and if you can trust in that, then nothing will be lost.”
“But, Goddess,” they said, “we fear the Underworld and we fear death!”
She smiled softly. “Do you fear going to sleep at night? Do you fear waking up? Do not fear the change that death brings; if you have lived a life worth living you also needn’t fear the Underworld. What you need to fear is anyone who tries to tell you that I do not love you or that I have forsaken you. I do not know how long my time here will last, and when I leave, you must know in your heart that I love you and that I always will. Let that knowledge carry you and you will remain strong in times of adversity.”
The disciples nodded. On the thirty-fourth day, the skies darkened and the Goddess looked up into the Heavens. She summoned a great bird to carry her disciples back to the South and ascended into the Heavens, reminding them to be strong. The disciples returned home and began preaching the word of the Goddess. And in the times that followed — the dark times — it was her love that kept them alive, praying for her return.
* * * * *
Kate hovered in space near the Earth, making sure the hole she had plugged was well and truly filled. Her people were troubled, but she hoped she planted the seeds to make things better. She needed to do something about those haughty monks in the West, but she couldn't bring herself to go all Old Testament on them. She returned to her office where mere seconds had passed since her leaving to set things up on the earth. Ganymede wrung his hands as he waited for her.
“Did he get out of here safely?” she asked. Ganymede nodded, “They nearly caught him, but he escaped. He’s free.”
“Good. Hopefully he'll be able to help us out.”
“Can we trust him, Goddess?”
Kate walked to the window in the hallway. It was little more than an arrow-slit. “I can trust his heart. I can't trust him not to make bad decisions, but he doesn't mean us harm. I know that.” She rubbed her head where it throbbed and Izanami retold the story of how she trusted her husband as well. Kate shushed the goddess. “What's going on outside?”
“They’ve surrounded us with siege engines. We expect an attack at any time.”
As if answering him, the castle shuddered and cries came up from the ramparts. Kate focused her will and repaired the wall that had crumbled against the attack, only to have her attention diverted by yet another attack. “And the residents?”
“Sequestered in the room you provided.”
“Okay. Have the ranking angels meet me in my office.”
The boy ran off. Kate trudged down the hall t
o her office, fortifying the walls of the fort, building them higher. The demons attacked with flaming pitch, coating her walls with stinking foulness, but still the walls held. The angels were there when she opened the door: Gabriel, Michael, Ruth, and Esther. They sat at her table and looked expectantly at her. She sighed, gathering her strength. “Has something like this ever happened in heaven?”
Michael shook his head. “Not since my creation, Goddess.”
“Great …” mumbled Kate. “So, what are our options? They outnumber us, but it doesn't look like they can come in easily. And this isn't even like a real siege, is it?”
Ruth shifted uncomfortably. “No, there are no supply lines to cut off. Our sustenance comes from you, Goddess, not the roads they are blocking.”
Kate took the maps of heaven from the bookshelves and rolled them out onto the table. “But the new souls I just created can’t come in, can they?”
Gabriel looked stricken. “No.”
“Where are they going?”
“There is no way we can find out.”
“So much for omniscience,” Kate said. The angels stared at her. She frowned at them. “I thought that you were my advisors. Why can’t you give me any better info here?”
Esther spoke, her voice soft. “We are but extensions of you. When you are hesitant, we cannot act. When you are decisive, we are your fists.”
Kate’s jaw dropped. “You’re kidding me. You mean I don't actually have any real angels with free will?”
Michael nodded. “Angels have never had free will, not since the rebellion. We are but extensions of the Divine.”
“Great. I’m having an argument with myself. Get out. Go guard the walls. Slice up some demons with your swords. Can you manage that?”
The angels scrambled out of the room. Kate collapsed into a chair, rubbing her head. Another impact shook the castle and she repaired the damage, fortifying the walls as she did so. “How about you guys?” she asked. Hermes was at the forefront of her mind warm and glowing.
You are learning.
“Yeah, I’m learning that all this power is doing little good. I’m learning I'm really alone here. What about you guys? Are you all just bits of me, too?”
Odin’s voice was wry. Oh no, dear, we are very much real. More than you know.
“Then help me!”
Get the maps, Izanami advised, and remember that none of these places are honestly physical. Kate went back to her maps. She traced her finger over the strange, four-dimensional map again, wondering about the W-axis that touched each heaven, bisecting, penetrating, and sometimes just touching. Although the roundabout and all the heavenly roads, now black and burning on the maps, indicated that heaven was a clean wheel, the map indicated that heaven was a jumble, with some realms literally on top of each other. Kate frowned. She peered at the realm that lay below heaven. It was the heaven of the delusional: the true believers who are good, loving people, but whose beliefs didn’t fit anywhere else.
“The island of misfit toys …” murmured Kate, running her finger through the map. Reality shuddered briefly and then righted itself. She thought of the metaphysical and grinned. She routed around in her backpack and pulled out a silver cell phone, opened it, and then dialed one number. Four.
Perhaps you are getting the knack of this, Anubis whispered.
* * * * *
Ganymede, the only advisor she was sure wasn't an extension of herself, stood expectantly at her side as she rolled up the maps and gave him some instructions. “Make sure you have some bourbon ready before you go; I’ll want to welcome our guests.”
The boy was off in an instant. Kate paused a moment to allow herself a fond feeling for him. She’d miss him. She put the maps into a map case and swung it over her shoulder to rest by her sword. She looked around the office. There was nothing else here she’d need. A knock sounded at the door. She opened it. Her angels stood there, steadfast and confident. “I guess you are extensions of me,” she said. They nodded. She handed them each a shining rope that streamed from her backpack. The pink rope went to Ruth, the black to Esther, the brown to Michael, and the green to Gabriel.
“Fly to the four directions of heaven. Right by the walls you’ll find an anchoring bolt. Tie the string around the bolts and give the rope a tug. Then go back to the ramparts and keep up the defense.”
The angels took flight in the hall and each flew to their directions, flying straight through the walls and taking the ropes with them. Soon, Kate’s backpack had four ropes forming an “X “out of the top. Ganymede came back down the hall carrying a bottle of bourbon and two glasses with ice. As if waiting for that libation, the air beside Kate cracked and split, bleeding blue fire, and out stepped the grinning hobo: Alternate Dimension Bela Boost. Before his rift closed, however, he dragged through with him Jane the Boxcar Beekeeper.
Bela’s futuristic uniform had gotten shabbier since Kate had last seen him, and was tinged with blue spots.
“Ahhhh, the Uninteresting Goddess! Hello!”
She smiled at them. “Bela, Jane, I'm glad you could make it. Would you like some bourbon?”
“There is nothing more I would like. Why have you asked my god to send me here?”
“I need help Bela, and I think only a hobo can do it.”
“Hobos are jacks of all trades, Goddess. But few put their trust in us. Why have you?”
Kate grinned ruefully. “I really don't have anywhere else to go.”
Bela clapped his hands. “Perfect! And what will you give us?”
Kate handed them glasses of bourbon as an answer. “And at the end there will be freshly baked pie.”
Bela stopped, his glass halfway to his lips. “Brackleberry pie from Dimension Blue?
Kate hesitated. Promise it to him. When this is over, you can make it happen, Izanami hissed. Kate smiled. “Definitely.”
“Then I am your man. Whatever can I do for you?”
The black rope twitched and Kate went to inspect it. Then the other three ropes all twitched. “I’m going to give each of you a package. I want you to toss it on your back and protect it for me. Bela, Ganymede will stay with you and advise you. This package is quite precious, so I’m putting a lot of faith in you.”
Bela’s grin got wider; something Kate didn't know was possible. “No one notices a hobo! You are a wise woman.”
“The thing is, I need you to stay in this heaven. If you have a problem, just let me know.”
Jane had been silent up to now, sipping her bourbon. “And my job?”
Kate turned to the small woman. “You may go where you like and do what you like, just care for your package. That's all I ask. I'll be with you for the first part of the journey anyway.”
“I don't like brackleberry pie. I want key lime.”
“You've got it.”
She nodded and went back to her drink. Kate thanked them and went back to the ropes that were taut through the walls of her castle. She took two in each hand and took a deep breath. Right as she began to tense, Ganymede’s voice stopped her:
“Goddess, the leader of the enemy forces wishes to meet with you.”
CHAPTER SEVEN
Daniel had read "Lord of the Rings" as a teenager, trying to escape into the fantasy world of Frodo and Sam and away from his own hell of a mother devolving in a nut house. His friends complained that yeah, they loved the book but, man, those hobbits sure did walk a lot. They walked and walked. They were hot; they walked. They were thirsty; they walked. The ring got heavy; they walked. Sam dumped his cooking pans into a crevice; they walked.
These are the things that Daniel relished about the books. The walking said as much to him as the fighting did, maybe more. Just like life, it wasn't the short bursts of excitement that really brought you up or down, except for the last burst of excitement. It was the daily grind. Happiness and misery were mountains that had days upon days of little instances building them. Not one big car, or wedding, or death, or fire. Yes, when his mother murdered his
sister it was a hot flare of agony that changed his life, but it was every day after that, dealing with life under that shadow, his father's depression, and forcing himself to get out of bed in the morning that had been the true difficulty.
In "The Lord of the Rings," walking illustrated that, even though the wars raged elsewhere, those heroes could stick a sword in an orc and be done, while Sam and Frodo still had to walk. This comforted Daniel. Sam and Frodo walked straight into hell and ended up changed, but overall okay. This made Daniel enjoy walking in life, not as a means of transport but just as a way to clear his head. Focus on either the good parts, or the bad parts.
Daniel walked. He didn't know where he was going but he trusted he'd go to the right spot. Either his companions would guide him, or those he sought would. It hadn't taken him long before he decided to leave the road and head off into a Wasteland. He didn't know how long he'd been walking. He had run at first, hoping to get this over with quickly, but Kagutsuchi and Hermes admonished him for using their god-given speed and told him he needed to walk this one. Time was fluid in heaven and hell, and hurrying wouldn't get him what he needed any faster.
The terrain didn't change much while they walked. Sand blew softly around his feet, created rippling dunes to his left and right. It caked at the edges of his mouth and eye, and he didn't wipe it away. Fatigue gnawed at his bones and he blinked, surprised. He wasn't supposed to get tired.
Rules are different here, boy, Odin said, You're not so strong here. There may be bigger things than you.
"Yeah, well everything's bigger than me lately, old man," Daniel said, licking his lips with a dry tongue.
