The Last Guardian of Everness

by John C. Wright

  Peter gestured. “Wendy, get that garland and put it on my dad’s head. And—hey, who was that guy, Raven?”

  “Max. Don’t know his last name. I took him prisoner, and he agreed to help me instead. I did not know him more than five minutes. He was good friend, and he had a funny sense of humor and a smile. Good friend . . .”

  At that moment, there came a loud shout at the main door, “Have at it, lads! With a will! Heave ho!” and a crash, then another. But the heavy doors did not even tremble in their hinges.

  Peter put the wreath on his father’s head, held up his hands with his index and ring fingers curled in toward his palms, chanted the poem in praise of Daphne.

  He called out the last line three times over: “Apollo, Hyperion, Helion, Day! Moon’s madness you tame, night’s dragons you slay!”

  And then he whispered: “Please wake up, father. Damn it, old man, wake up! I don’t know what to do!”

  There came another crash at the door, then screams, screams, screams.

  Mysterious red light, the color of the newly risen dawn, appeared in the crack along the bottom of the door, and there came a thunderous fanfare of harps and trumpets.

  Then music poured into the air like glory. And with each glissade of the harp strings, another, deeper string was plucked and added its stronger note to the march of music. And each time this deeper humming note sang out, the selkie voices screamed as if they were being shot with arrows.

  The red became golden, until it seemed as if daylight were shining in through the cracks in the door. The music swelled to a rippling fanfare, then fell silent.

  There was no sound of selkie, no movement behind the door, but warm, clear streams of light radiated from the lock, lintel, and threshold. The light banished all shadows from the room.

  A beautiful, deep, masculine voice called out, “Gallus! You are my herald. Announce my coming!”

  And a cock crowed.

  Raven said, “What is going on? Why is rooster crowing?”

  Peter’s eyes were riveted to the door.

  Wendy clapped her hands for joy. “I think something good is happening!”

  The bar flew up out of its staples, and the doors slammed open. Light poured in, rich, warm, and golden, and the room was lit with daylight.

  A golden figure of a youth, taller than any mortal and handsome beyond all description, stooped and came in through the doors. He was too tall for the houses of men; he knelt in the door, holding his golden bow horizontally across his knee. His crown of rays was too bright to look upon. Across his back, on a purple strap, hung a lyre.

  There were bloodstains on the corridor floor beyond and golden arrows piercing walls and floor, but no sign of the selkie.

  He knelt in the doorway, and majestic music radiated from his person, rising and falling as he spoke, solemn and sorrowful by turns, according to his words.

  “You have called and I have come. Your father lies in darkness, swallowed by the ocean stream, beyond my eyesight, beyond my reach, for no ray of sun has ever touched the bottom of the deepest sea. I cannot perform what I have promised, and I am thus forsworn to Everness. These amends I make:

  “First, your father comes ever nearer to my reach, for Acheron is rising, the hateful city. When sunlight can find his soul again, I will go myself to his salvation, sending my son Aesclepious first, to repair and make whole any hurt to his body’s house; requiring my daughter Urania to drive off any lingering madness with the true light of reason. Yet this is no more than to perform as I have promised.

  “Second, my uncle Hades stands within the sea outside your walls, with his grandmother Moira. They have trespassed to my domain. It lies within my power to drive back Death and Fate from these the shores of Daylight’s world, yet with this price; that the stones who have risen up to defend the house must sleep again, for constellations hide when the mighty Sun appears.

  “Third, I can heal you of the wounds you have received while fighting for the honor of Everness. Older wounds than that I cannot touch without the leave of my brother Ares. Yet there is this price: that all those of Everness will be healed, for good or ill. For your ancestor lies bleeding on the bosom of my uncle Poseidon’s waves, and I cannot heal you without he also is allowed to rise again, for the same sun shines on all alike, foul and fair.

  “Thus I will withhold or grant these boons according to your desire, one or all. Speak now. What say you?”

  And he smiled down at Wendy as he spoke. She smiled back, but moved to stand behind Raven.

  II

  Peter tore his gaze away from the shining supernatural figure to look out at the terrible silent silhouettes looming from the sea. “It’s no choice. Either way, we lose. We can’t take on the two dark gods out there, even with the statues. But without the statues, how can we hold the ground against the gunmen, the giants, and the selkie?”

  Raven had his good hand before his eyes but kept staring, blinking, at the unearthly face shining beneath the crown of rays.

  Wendy, who, for some reason, could stare unblinking at the godlike figure, spoke out of the side of her mouth at Peter, “Use the talismans, like I’ve been saying! The Wand of Moly reveals the selkie; the rod of Mollner smites the giants; the Bow of Belphanes drives away the kelpie; the Ring . . . I’m not sure what the Ring does . . .”

  Raven said to Peter, “If you could remember the last defense of Everness, maybe that could stop the gunmen. Talismans drive off magic beasts, see?”

  Wendy said, “He said that what comes for the eighth and final sea-bell is beyond our strength.” She pointed out the window.

  “Who said so?”

  “Galen.”

  Peter sighed. “And what about Galen?” And he thought: is it right to cure ourselves if it means curing Azrael? Would Galen be willing to give up his life to make sure Azrael is destroyed? Am I willing?

  But what he said was: “Right or wrong, I think taking the boons is the best thing to do right now, and we got no time to debate.” Squinting, he turned to the kneeling golden figure and shouted, “Do it!”

  The shining figure turned his head toward Wendy. Wendy said, “Go ahead! What are you waiting for?”

  III

  Before either Peter or Raven could move or flinch, the Shining One, still kneeling, raised his bow and shot them both.

  The arrows turned to streams of light midflight and struck them both with a warm and rosy glow. Raven’s arm no longer ached, and the fuzzy numbness of the morphine fell away, leaving a crisp, clear sense of vitality, clear-mindedness, and calm strength.

  The bandages fell from Peter’s shoulder, and a lump of flattened lead was squeezed up, out of his wound, which flowed shut behind it, leaving a small scar.

  Raven raised both hands overhead, twisting and flexing his arms with a look of wonder and surprise on his face.

  The Shining One gracefully crossed the floor, shifting the weight from his right foot to his right knee, and bringing his left knee forward. He shot three arrows out the windows, and there was sunlight all around and everywhere.

  Raven ran to the window. A rosy glow, like dusk, was slowly fading over the area. The dark gods were sinking away into the sea, swallowed up into whirlpools, fading like dreams.

  Raven threw himself on his knees: “Bright angel!” He cried out, “There is so much I do not understand! You must tell me! It is not so often gods come down to earth!”

  “Kneel not to me but only to the Most High; for we both are fellow servants of the Good, you not less than I.”

  “Then you are a god?”

  “The poet puts his soul into his work; the Demiurge can do no less. If holy power created all things, then all things are holy. You have godliness in you no less than I, though mixed, in you, with baser elements, passion, wrath and shame, which you must study to make pure.”

  “Wait. . .!”

  “Time is older than the gods, and he will not lift up his fallen sands again, not even for us, his children. Even now the gentle Hour
s have harnessed my impatient steeds, and rosy-fingered Dawn, my heraldess, has unlocked the gates of day. Ask a final question, but do not ask me to prophesy for you.”

  Raven opened his mouth, but a terrible feeling came over him, that no matter what he asked, he would think of a much better question he should have asked, a few minutes, or a few years, or decades after the god had walked away.

  “What should I ask?” said Raven to the shining god.

  IV

  The golden voice answered, ringing: “Ask if there is life beyond this life.”

  “Is there?”

  “There is. Here, you live in the country of ignorance and are not told life’s purposes, causes, or results. This country of darkness is meant to teach you courage.

  “Hereafter, you will abide in a country of dreams, the elf-land, where all things are possible upon the mere wish, and fools there call it paradise. That country is meant to teach prudence, or moderation.

  “After that, there is a country of glory, where you will be given worlds of your own making and children of your own to raise. This is my country. This country is to teach temperance (which at times, I fear my father may never learn, as the circumstances of my birth suggest).

  “After that, you will pass on to a country of justice, where all harms will be healed.

  “Once the virtues of prudence, temperance, courage, and justice are broken to the saddle, they will pull the chariot of your soul back to your home, of which this world and the three lesser heavens above this are but shallow and false reflections, and the reason for your long exile will be made clear then.

  “Pain, here, is your tutor’s whip, but highest law forbids the tutor strike any property that truly is your own; your will, your judgment, your consent. Pain can only touch those things lent to you, the texts and materials of instruction; your body, your property, your reputation, your offices, your children, your wife. These things are given back to your instructors at the end of term, and you may not take them with you when you go. Love them not overmuch but in moderation, according to their nature, which is mortal, subject to destruction. Love virtue with full zeal, according to its nature, which is immortal and indestructible.

  “Do you understand what I have told you, young spirit, who calls himself in this life, Raven, son of Raven?”

  “No! I don’t understand anything!” Raven said.

  “Then heed this: those whom you imagine to be your foes are trespassers from the country of dreams, which is the country of magicians. You will learn how to overcome them when you learn the lesson of your world, not theirs.

  “And heed this also: despite that there is life after death, the crime of murder is not excused.”

  And then the great doors closed about the Shining One, and his light could no longer be seen.

  22

  The

  Last Defense

  of

  Everness

  I

  Peter had turned his head away from the shining sun god and was not paying much attention to the speech the god made to Raven, which sounded to Peter like Sunday school preaching, anyway. Because he was looking right out the window when the sun god stepped behind the closing doors, he saw the exact moment when Azrael de Gray reappeared on the land.

  The sky above was now red and black, a swirled and knotted texture of storm clouds, swollen with undischarged rain, breaking into smaller clouds to let the beams of dawn appear. The earth was still gray, and the first upper rim of the sun’s own orb had just peered over the sea.

  The sea gave forth a mighty wave, thundering up the cliffs to an unnatural height, flying over the seawall in sheets of green and sprays of white, so that the gardens and fountain were slopped and overthrown with saltwater.

  When the wave fell, Azrael de Gray stood upon the ruins of the seawall where it had passed, unwetted by any drop. And his garments now showed that he had partway fallen into the dream-world and emerged again, for Peter saw them now as Azrael imagined them; a billowing cloak of rich imperial purple; amulets of power circling his neck, and in his hand, a warlock’s wand. His earthly garments underneath had vanished and now showed as doublet and hose of black, slashed with silk of red and white.

  Peter felt a stab of grief in his heart, for Azrael still wore Galen’s face.

  Peter said, “Heads up. Azrael’s back. Shut the shutters! You can look out through the loopholes. Well? Tell me what’s happening.”

  The room was black again with heavy wooden shutters closing out the dawn.

  Raven went to the doors to lift the heavy bar back into place.

  Wendy said, “The kelpie are jumping into the sea. Yuck! I don’t blame them. They turn all black and icky and dripping if the sunlight hits them. But their horses get all better and nice looking. I bet the horses are the real kelpie and that the men are puppets or something. Uh, oh! Lots of men with guns.”

  “Get down!” shouted Peter. “Those walls won’t stop a large-caliber bullet.”

  “Don’t worry!” exclaimed Wendy. ‘Azrael isn’t letting them shoot up here. He’s giving orders to the gunmen. That’s funny! He’s running around trying to stop the kelpie and the gunmen at the same time.”

  Raven said, “Can’t we get out of, you know, gunfire range?”

  Wendy kept her face pressed up to the tiny hole and said, “I bet he can’t afford to kill us; he must need us to give him the Silver Key; I don’t think he can just take it. Whoops!” Now she shrank back. “He turned and looked up straight into my eye. I guess I guessed right. Gosh, he’s creepy!”

  “Let me see,” said Raven, stepping up to the peephole. “Hah! Sunlight hurts them, I am thinking; Azrael make the ice-troll breathe out big fog and mist, but sunlight still is burning through fog.”

  Peter said: “Raven, stay on the window and keep us informed. Wendy, get over here with that magic stick. Now, then . . .uh. . . what are we supposed to do?”

  Wendy held up a framed banknote. “This is a landscape. A dream landscape. With the Silver Key we can open the gate and step into them, if we’re asleep.”

  Peter stared at the banknote; it was the reverse of a ten-dollar bill, showing the treasury building at the intersection of two roads. People strolled along the sidewalk; Model Τ Fords rolled along the road. In the distance were other buildings, shrubbery.

  Peter said, “The Freemasons put the symbols into American money and national monuments when they moved over here from England. It was part of the spell they used to let us break away from the British Empire.”

  “I didn’t know that!” exclaimed Wendy.

  “Really? It’s what I was told when I was young. I used to think everyone knew that stuff. Now, how do we do this?”

  Wendy said, “I don’t know how we can go to sleep with all that racket outside. Besides, by the time we wake up again, the bad guys will be upstairs here.”

  Peter said, “Don’t worry about that. I can knock you out and wake you up in a moment. If we need to. Which we won’t, not here. What I’m trying to remember is, what’s the curse on each of these things?”

  Wendy said, “Galen told me. If you throw the Rod of Mollner, it will come back to you, and you have to be able to endure its return stroke. To use the Ring of Niflungar, you must forswear love. If you take up the Moly Wand, you will lose all your fond illusions. The Bow of Belphanes will only serve the proud, but the vainglorious will be thrown down. The Sword of Justice can only be wielded by one worthy of rulership.”

  Peter pulled the framed banknotes and coins over in front of him. “Where are the talismans?”

  Raven said, “Do quickly whatever you mean to do. I think something, some terrible thing, is about to be happening now.”

  “What do you see?” snapped Peter.

  “It is something—hard to see in gloom—trees? towers? There are towers rising out of the sea, hundreds and hundreds, like forest. There are webs like spider webs and ropes strung all over them.”

  Wendy shrieked, “Acheron is rising!”

/>   Peter said, “Okay, girl! Zap a picture with that magic wand. Any picture.”

  “Which one?”

  “Any of them! I don’t know where these talismans are, but they must be in these pictures somewhere. Raven, get over here and help us look at these little things in the pictures . . .”

  Raven, hunched over the peephole of the shutters, said, “Wait! They are not towers!”

  “That’s a relief,” said Peter.

  “I found one!” cried Wendy.

  Raven said “They are the masts of ships. Clipper ships with black sails. Score upon score of ship, filling bay as far as eye can see. And other seal- men, like giants, float between ships, larger than whales; seal-men, their eyes are like lanterns. They are not dressed as others. Wear Greek armor, or Egyptian. Farther down, they are wearing older things, older than what I know, and they are huger than islands. I am thinking these ones are very old. They are from the deep places of the world . . .”

  “It’s right here on the back of the dollar!” Wendy said. “Plain as day! These arrows in the eagle’s claws must stand for the Belphanes’ Bow; I guess the olive branch stands for the Moly Wand.”

  “Back of the quarter, different,” said Peter. “Eagle there carrying a fasces.”

  “A which?”

  “A fasces is bundle of rods carried by a Roman lictor . . .”

  “Hey. Rods? Mollner’s Rod?”

  “Zap it,” said Peter.

  “Don’t I have to go to sleep?” asked Wendy.

  “Everywhere else. Not in this house. Zap it.”

  There came a tramp of boots along the corridor, a pounding at the door.

  “Open up!” called a horse voice. “Federal police!”

  Raven said, “Azrael has sent the ice-giant and the fire-giant toward the house. They are coming this way. Holy Saint Katherine! The man in the sky. . . !”