The Last Guardian of Everness

by John C. Wright

  “Open up!” shouted the voice behind the door.

  Peter shouted for Morpheus to knock out the men behind the door, but he did not know their names, or have anything belonging to them, so nothing happened. “I wish I could remember what the last defense of Everness was. Now would be a good time.”

  “Oh my!” cried Wendy, and fell backwards off the bed.

  A bald eagle, larger than any living eagle, rose up, dreamlike at first, then solid and real, its magnificent wings beating, and it uttered a fierce scream. In one claw, a golden bow with a sheaf of arrows; in the other claw, a slim wand, with leaves and flowers sprouting from it. In the air all around this apparition, thirteen points of clear light orbited, sweeping the air with soft but penetrating brilliance.

  Wendy, up on her feet again, said, “Here birdy! Here eagle! Here boy! Give Wendy the things!” And reached out her hands for the wand and arrows.

  But the eagle fluttered up to the ceiling and spoke in a majestic, piercing voice, a voice like a brass trumpet: “Separation of powers is our law: know these talismans serve jealous gods, and no hand may hold more than one! Who takes the bow may not touch the wand.”

  Raven, still at the peephole, said, “There is a man running through the air wearing storm clouds like a cape. He is in the air behind the ships, blowing in their sails with his bagpipes . . .”

  The voices at the door shouted for them to open up. Peter worked the action of his machine-gun, slapped in his last clip.

  At that same moment, hurricanic winds rose up from outside, shrieking louder and louder until the whole sky screamed.

  The windows behind Raven blew out, wooden shutters flying off their hinges, shards of glass falling. Raven fell back with his hands over his face.

  The whole room shook like a ship at sea. From outside came the cracking, shrieking, popping noise of trees being uprooted.

  The balcony outside the north windows collapsed on one side so that the whole formed a drunken ramp. When the pillars holding the eastern part of the balcony collapsed, the northeast corner of the room tore open, and an angle opened between the two walls.

  Through that gap, they could see a small folly tower on the north wing crashing into ruin, and gold plates and ancient tapestries were lifted out of the dust and tumbling planks, and flung away on the wind.

  Above the wreckage of the tower, two supernatural creatures strode across the sky with flying steps, a thunderclap echoing from each footfall. One, dressed as a Roman soldier, clashed his sword against his shield to make the heavens quake with thunder; the other was stirring up a whirlwind with the skirling of his bagpipes, his cape and kilt swirling up into the stormwinds chasing him, and the spout of a tornado followed his music.

  The two storm-princes ran across the winds against the east, herding the rolling stormclouds towards the sun, as if to smother the coming dawn.

  There was a hissing noise from the door and a spray of sparks that erupted from a burning point of light, which began to melt one of the hinges. The men beyond the door had applied an acetylene torch.

  The streaming sunbeams from the dawn were covered by gathering clouds; the kelpie cheered, and the selkie began to sing, a thousand voices roaring from the ships.

  The frost-giant began to glide across the gardens, leaving icicle-hung trees behind him as he came. Through the shattered windows in the south, they saw an angry giant step over the garden wall, lighting the bushes to either side of him afire with a salute of his two torches.

  The eagle shouted, “Choose!”

  A second eagle, dreamlike, manifested in the room, carrying in its claws a bundle of rods, which it dropped. In the midst of the bundle was a hammer like a sledgehammer, but with a short haft. The second eagle screamed, “Only one willing to endure the stroke of War may raise this rod in War.

  Who takes this rod in hand may take no talisman besides, for the military shall not be rendered independent of and superior to the civil power.”

  So piercing and loud were the voices of the eagles that the howls of the hurricane could not drown them.

  Raven was looking at Peter’s face when he saw the sudden look of memory, of hope, come triumphantly into it. He could not hear what he said, but saw his lips form some words “. . . remembered . . . last defense of Everness!”

  The burning hinge fell from the door. The door settled, and then shook under a powerful blow from a battering ram.

  Peter was grabbing Wendy by the shoulder, shouting in her ear, pointing toward the gap in the wall. By chance, or fate, the winds grew more quiet at that moment, and Raven heard, “. . . point at the lightning rod on that steeple there! Fulgrator! As the Guardian of Everness, on Everness land, in my hour of distress, I invoke my swift command!”

  The door fell, and armed men appeared in the gap, both men in blue helmets and wearing black fatigues, with M-16’s, and men in purple robes, with hunting rifles. The first two men came into the room, and, by some quirk of habit or instinct swung their rifles to cover the suits of armor hanging, limp and inert, before the door and windows.

  The man behind him swung a hunting rifle to cover Raven, then jerked the barrel up when he saw Raven wearing a purple robe. His glance swept over Wendy and Peter and Lemuel; a small, young woman and two old men in bed; and he decided there was no great danger here, so he started to sling his rifle, shouting, “The Dark Messiah claims this house!” Because he did not move forward, the men behind him could not at once come into the room; the heavy marble column they had been using as a ram was in their way.

  A voice from behind shouted, “Down on the floor! You’re all under arrest!”

  Wendy said, “Hi! You can’t see these two giant eagles, can you? Are you hypnotized to ignore weird things? Azrael must have done that so you wouldn’t get scared.”

  Peter pointed with his right hand out the window and with his left hand at the door. The two men in the room took that as a threatening gesture and swung their rifles toward him. The moment it took them to bring their rifles to bear was a moment too long.

  Peter brought his hands together so that both forefingers were pointing at the men.

  Raven smelled ozone and felt the hairs on the back of his hands stand up. A humming tension filled his ears. He tackled Wendy, pulled her body under his as he fell, and tried to protect her with his arms.

  Lightning entered the room, a blinding, blue-white explosion of hideous glare. Raven was deafened and blinded for a moment.

  When Raven looked up, and blinked free the dazzle in his eyes, he saw near the hole where the door had been the corpses smoldering and twitching. He saw the sizzling sparks crawling across the dropped firearms. Sparks were also buzzing on the door hinges, metal buttons, and buckles. Tension hung in the air like the aura of power surrounding a throbbing dynamo.

  Framed in the smoking ruins of the door, a supernatural creature stood. It looked like a man and wore a long black coat with lace at its throat. Its face was harsh, an intersection of angles, high cheekbones, a narrow jaw. Long, dark hair fanned out from its face, writhing and standing on end.

  In one black glove it held a javelin. When it looked over its shoulder and smiled, Raven saw the electricity burning in its eyes. Sparks jumped from its upper teeth to its lower, so that, for a moment, it seemed to have fangs.

  It turned, it smiled, turned back and threw the javelin down the corridor at the fleeing men, some of whom were crying out, trying to surrender. There was a flash of intolerable white fire where the javelin struck; Raven turned his eyes away in time.

  A dry, inhuman voice: “Free again, I am, I see. But I do not see the Ni- flung Ring on any hand commanding me. Madness has its uses too; but will anything, without the ring, tie madness up when time, this time, is through?”

  With a swirl of black coat, the creature stepped through the smoking doorway, after the javelin. There was a hissing rustle as it moved, and Raven heard it chuckle.

  Raven turned his head and gaped at Peter. “Why don’t you Everness pe
ople rule the world, you can do things like this?”

  Peter grunted, “I think we used to. Gave it up or something. I don’t know.”

  II

  Wendy kissed her husband. “Will you get up?!! You’re squishing me!”

  Raven stood. “I hear no wind outside. Is that bad or good?”

  The two eagles had perched on the bedposts, with three talismans glittering on the floor behind the headboard: a slender wand, living flowers springing from its dead wood; a bow of gold with pale arrows, fletched with white feathers; a gnarled stump of a hammer, short handled, with a head of black iron.

  Raven looked out the window. The two giants had halted and were staring up at the sky. Both flinched when a lightning bolt crashed down nearby. One lifted up its icy mask and began to breathe out fog; the other plunged a torch into a pool of seawater that had gathered on the broken tiles. The torch, inextinguishable, sputtered, and steam from the water billowed up. Both giants were trying to hide themselves.

  The armada of selkie had fallen into a hush. Some side boats, filled with sailors, had been lowered, but now the selkie sat at their oars, laughing nervously and slyly, daring each other to be first ashore. The kelpie knights were staring upwards in grim resignation, or they lowered their heads in postures of noble sorrow.

  Wendy said, “Look!”

  On the top of the central tower, a lightning bolt was swaying. It stretched from Everness to dark clouds above, a crackling strand of energy, flickering, dancing, many forking arms and branches tightly folded into a narrow path.

  A church bell began ringing in the distance, and Wendy imagined some quaint old New England church, with white clapboard, perhaps covered with ivy, on some green hill or overlooking a quiet cove not far away.

  At the sound of the church bells, the selkie began to wail and gnash their teeth, clutching their ears. The kelpie knights all bowed their heads remorsefully, and their handsome features began to sag and melt into pockmarked and disease-scarred masks of horror. The mingled fogs and smoke from the giants grew thicker, hanging over the whole area.

  Peter said, “That’s North Point Episcopalian. They hold a sunrise service this time of year.”

  Raven said, “Are we winning?”

  23

  The

  Wand of Moly

  I

  Raven, gazing outward in the growing light at the nightmare armada, at the host of diseased kelpie knights, and at the giants wreathed in smoke and fog, remembered the words of the sun god, that these things were from the dream-world, the world of magicians. His brow was furled in wonder and dark thought.

  And there was the magician himself, Azrael de Gray, standing atop the fallen stones of the broken seawall, his robes and cloak blowing in the dawn wind.

  Azrael touched his necklace, kissed his fingers, and pointed to the north, which was the direction from which the carillon of church bells came.

  The bells fell silent.

  A hissing murmur of calls and laughter rippled through the host.

  But when the church bells began again, moments later, the mocking cries became shrieks and curses, dwindling to sullen silence.

  Azrael pointed his wand at the ice-giant and uttered some command, which Raven did not hear. The ice-giant held up his massive hand and shook his featureless head in curt refusal.

  One of the men behind the giant held up his rifle in salute. “Master, send us! We’ll shut them up!”

  Azrael pointed with his staff at the speaker and waved to the north. The man shouted for his companions, and several men in purple robes trotted away out of sight around the north wing.

  Raven said to Peter, “The sunlight hurts the kelpie more than the other monsters. Who are the church bells hurting?”

  “The storm-princes. Church bells drive back storms. Notice how quiet it’s gotten? I hope it rains. The fire in the south wing don’t seem to be spreading, and maybe they’ll burn themselves out. . .”

  “He is sending gunmen to the church. He asked giant, but giant said no.”

  There came the noise of an engine whispering in the distance, a car on the road traveling north.

  Outside, Azrael gestured with his wand. The leader of the kelpie knights, bearing the same armor and shield as the man who had slain Lancelot, saluted with his bleeding sword. The kelpie knights mounted up on their chargers and began to trot in file off the edge of the sea cliff, each front rank, in its turn, plunging wildly into the sea below. Wendy pointed out how handsome and strong the steeds now seemed, Arabian stallions of the finest breed, that had seemed so sick by torchlight.

  The clouds blotting out the dawn began to break apart, and beams of red sunlight streamed through the gaps, vivid against the darkened sky. No sign of the two storm-princes was seen above.

  Peter said, “Wish I knew what he was up to. Won’t attack while the lightning’s sitting on the house, that’s clear.”

  Wendy said, “Can’t storm-princes push each other around?”

  Peter looked at Raven, “She’s right. After his gunmen kill the people in church, he’ll get his storm-princes back, and they’ll gang up on our storm-prince.”

  Wendy said, “Let’s use the magic talismans!”

  Raven pointed out the windows. “We must drive this navy back before gunmen stop church bells. No way to warn church? No telephone?”

  Peter shook his head. “It’s one of the things I always hated about this place.”

  Wendy stamped her foot, and said, “What about the magic? Let’s use the talismans!”

  Peter sat up in the bed, and, with his hands, swung his legs out so that he was sitting, leaning on the headboard, looking at the talismans on the floor next to him.

  “I’ll take the hammer,” grunted Peter. “It has a curse I can live with. Always have been able to dish it out as well as I can take it.”

  Raven said, “Is that what that curse means? Sometimes this fairy-tale stuff very tricky, you know?”

  Peter said, “Wendy? You’re the expert on fairy-tale stuff.”

  She had dimples when she smiled. She said “Peter, you should get the hammer since you’re the warrior. Raven, you should get the bow and arrows ‘cause you’re the hunter, and you’re not vainglorious or over proud.”

  Raven said, “Kelpie are leaving. Peter, did you hear what storm-prince said? One of us must take ring, what is it called?”

  “Niflungar,” said Peter.

  “Geshundheit!” said Wendy, and she giggled.

  “One of us must take Niflung Ring or else storm-prince cannot be bound up again.”

  Wendy continued: “And I get the wand on account of my innocence.” And she batted her eyelashes.

  A cold touch of dread entered Raven’s heart.

  Peter, meanwhile, was looking at the hammer. Finally he said, “Every soldier who stands in harm’s way knows he might have to get wounded or killed for a chance to strike at the enemy.” And his voice, which had held a note of uncertainty at first, grew firm with resolution as he spoke. With un- shaking hand he picked up the mighty hammer, which he handled carefully, with respect, as if it were a firearm.

  Peter stared. It looked more like a sledgehammer than anything else, except that the haft was short, and it felt balanced for throwing. Yet it seemed to pulse in his hand and felt warm to the touch. “Damned thing is alive!” he whispered.

  One of the eagles screamed, “Take up in defense of heaven’s light, and take as foes those wrathful and sullen giants whom that light awes! Vow to use in no unsober purpose, nor to set aside, nor to deliver to any agent of the enemy, until thy charge is passed, or until the King is come again, and excuses you your duty!”

  The eagle cocked its head aside, staring at Peter with a yellow eye.

  Peter asked the eagle several questions, but it did not speak again. Then he saluted the eagle with the hammer, saying, “I hereby swear to support and defend the Constitution from all enemies, foreign and domestic.”

  And the eagle screamed and vanished. It di
d not disappear or fade; instead, like an image from dream, it simply became hard to recall that it was there, as if a mist hid it from sight and memory.

  “Wow!” said Wendy. She looked up at the other eagle and waved. “Can I have the Moly Wand?” she asked.

  Raven stepped forward. “Darling! Don’t touch that wand!”

  “Why not?”

  “I—I—I am not knowing how to say this, but, I think you will be very unhappy if you touch that wand! Remember, there is curse!”

  “Oh, really? Are you saying I have fond illusions, Mr. Raven, son of Raven? You must think I hallucinate!” And she snorted, almost giggling.

  Peter looked up from the hammer in his lap. “Hey. Maybe someone else should take that wand, you know? Someone already hardened and cynical. Disillusioned. Not a little pretty thing like you.”

  Wendy just rolled her eyes. “Oh, come on!” And she began to reach for it.

  “Wait!” Raven’s voice held a note of panic.

  “Well, what?” asked Wendy.

  “What if you no longer believed in fairy-tales, you touch that wand? What if you no longer believed in your father and mother?”

  Wendy giggled. “Oh, Raven, don’t be so silly!”

  “No! Listen! Stay away from that wand! It will make you lose your parents! You will realize the truth that they never exist! You will realize you never flew as a child! It was dream! Never hung in air outside kitchen window to wave at mother! No mother! It was dream! There are no miracles in life!”

  Wendy arched her eyebrow (her favorite expression). “And I suppose I only pretended I got better in the hospital? That wasn’t a miracle, which happened only yesterday? Was that a dream, too, I suppose you think you’re going to say? Hah! Some people just don’t know anything about real life!”

  Raven turned pale.

  Wendy said, “Raven? What’s wrong? Aren’t you feeling all right?”

  Peter, trying to distract her, said, “Say, Wendy. Raven might be right about getting the Ring instead of the bow and arrows.”