Angel Fall (13 page)

“I can’t stay. But I’ll come back. I promise.” She was trembling. He liked that.

“Well, you can’t leave until I get some answers.” But before he could say another word, a tiny beam of sunlight flashed through the glass and fell close to her. She screamed, “I have to get back to my window or I’ll die.” To his amazement, she rushed into the shadows…and disappeared.

“Hey!”

At the place where she had vanished hung long curtains with a drawstring. Thinking she’d gone behind them, Alex pulled them back…and
froze
. Under the curtains hung a life-size portrait without a trace of mold. It was of a little girl, and the image was so real that the tears on her cheeks looked as though they were actually falling.

The portrait was of Tori. And the paint was still wet.

As Alex stared at it in horror, a beam of sunlight struck the gold on his arm and he felt a terrible weakness. Then came the sound of cracking and ripping, and he was no longer in his body. It was as though his flesh had grown flat and hard and his blood had congealed into veins of lead.

And Alex Lancaster slept—seeing nothing through eyes of crystal—a figure of power and dark beauty in a window of stained glass.

F
rom darkness…to crimson moonlight.

When Amanda emerged from the black tunnel, she found herself at the entrance to a huge stadium. Above her rose a hundred tiers of crumbled seats covered with thick moss that blanketed every stone. Masses of vines hung like clumps of matted hair above gaping arches. Once, long ago, screaming crowds must have gathered here. Now all that was left was rotting emptiness. But it wasn’t the stadium that had taken Amanda’s breath away; it was what she saw in front of her.

In the middle of an arena loomed a gigantic form, a horse ten thousand times larger than any horse that she had ever seen. The stupendous creature lay on its back, a haunting image of rage and misery, as though it had been thrown down and quick-frozen in the peak of a thrashing battle. Its legs rose high in the moonlight. Its huge head was wrenched up and its teeth were bared as though shrieking against an invisible foe. Every muscle, every line screamed power. But it was power under brutal control. The horse was chained to the floor, weighed down with gigantic iron links pulled taught and embedded in the stone.

Slowly Amanda began to realize that it was a statue…the greatest sculpture of a horse that she had ever seen. But as she looked at it, she was filled with inexplicable sorrow. It was so wild and beautiful. Why had it been thrown down and chained? And why had someone destroyed its eyes? For where eyes should have been there were only gouged-out holes.

“Don’t be afraid. Walk out into the arena.”

Amanda looked around. “Where are you? I don’t see you.”

“You see me very well. Come quickly, Bellwind’s friend. I have been waiting for this moment through a million sorrows. The little one…I can feel his presence…bring him to me.”

“Are you…the statue?”

“I am.”

Still Amanda hesitated. “Well, if you’re the statue and you’re talking, why can’t I see your mouth move?”

“Why would I tell you that I’m the statue if I’m not?”

“I don’t know. Maybe you’re like a ventriloquist and you’re trying to fool me just to get me out there.”

“If I were a ventriloquist wouldn’t I make the mouth move so that I could fool you?”
There was a hint of irritation in the voice.

“Okay, good point. But how do you know Bellwind?”

“I am Sandalban, Worwil of the Winds, Thunderer of the Storm. If you’ve come from my sister she will have told you my name.”

“Thunderer. But how can you be one of them? You’re a big, carved rock and they’re like…angels.”

“Child, I see that among your many gifts is the gift of aggravation. You think that rocks are dead? I tell you they are not. No, not on any world. They feel and cry out. But their voices are too deep to be heard by deaf little creatures like you. For endless eons the rocks of my world have been weeping, for over them have washed rivers of innocent blood.”

“Why are you chained down?”

“Long ago there was a great war. Across this world people slaughtered people until almost all were dead. But the most terrible battles were fought by the Spirit Lords. I led a mighty host, but we were overcome. There is only one who was strong enough to capture me. He brought me here so that his creatures could take pleasure in my pain. They came by the thousands to watch me tortured.”

“That’s horrible. Where are they now? It doesn’t look like anybody’s been here in a long time.”

“The war went on for many centuries. The Worwil were overcome until only two remained, and they were weakened. But at the moment when the Enemy was about to be victorious, the prophecies were fulfilled and the child you carry was born. With him came strength. The Enemy was bound and his fortress shrouded with the Music of Heaven. But he was not destroyed. His spirit has remained powerful in the hosts of his crystal lords. They tried to kill the child. His mother was murdered. But he was hidden from their eyes. And so Boreth has dangled on the brink of death waiting for ancient words to be fulfilled. Now that he has returned, the end is near. Quickly, let him touch me. But stay away from the chains. They’re linked through the ground to the heart of Evil.”

“Why do you want him to touch you?”

“Because within him is the Spirit of Joy, and I have waited so long for a single drop of it.”

Cautiously Amanda began walking out into the arena. She came to the first chain—it was easy to step around because each link was larger than her body. She was almost to the horse’s head when there was a distant rumble.

“Too late, they’re coming.” The great voice no longer whispered. “Find shelter! Hide! But not in the tunnel!”

Holding the baby tight, Amanda ran back to the edge of the arena and began scrambling up over the stones. The sound grew louder. Gasping for breath, she hid in the vines above an arch. From there she peeked out at the stadium. The rumble turned to thunder. That sound—she had heard it before. It was the sound in her dream—the sound of galloping horses. Looking up, she stared in horror.

From the moonlit sky a long, dark cloud was descending. It swirled downward until it vanished behind the far wall. Then with a crashing roar they appeared. Flying straight out of the stone came a thousand jet-black horses, and on each sat a ghostly rider. As the stampede raged forward, they streaked and blurred as though their bodies were made of painted smoke. When their hooves touched the ground, they dashed madly around the statue, and the ruins echoed with the pounding roar. But gradually the insane race slowed until every horse and rider stood in silence facing the great chained form. And somehow, the silence was more awful than the noise. Then, as though at a mysterious signal, they turned and looked toward the sky.

A terrible voice echoed in the gloom, “Live until the gift of dying. Live…until death is all that remains.”

When Amanda heard it, the words made her feel terrible things, like joy at the suffering of others and hate for the happiness of a single soul. She wanted to scream. To keep from it, she bit her tongue until it bled.

As the voice echoed into silence, down from the sky swirled a huge stallion that shimmered in the moonlight. On it rode a shadowy image of smoke and fire. The horse landed by the statue’s head. Then slowly the Fiery Shadow raised the vague form of a hand and spoke.

“Sandalban…my brother…the spider’s web is broken. Our sister is dead. This is the night that was foretold in the prophet’s singing. Soon I will have a body of human flesh in which to ride; I will be transformed into the glory that I was when the stars were new. Beg for your life and I will give it. Pray to me and we will ride together as we did so long ago. No one will stand against us. We will conquer the Crimson Throne.”

From the horse came a majestic whisper.
“Mourn, I mourn for you, oh, Lammortan. I mourn for the rainbows that sang at your awakening. I mourn for the glory of your birth at the gateposts of the dawn. I mourn for the flashing colors of your splendor. But most of all I mourn for the blood that you drank…and the lives that are gone.”

The Fiery Shadow leaned close to the statue’s head. “Sandalban…the little beast and the thing she carries…they have been here. I can smell their trailing stench. Give them to me and your dying will have no pain.”

Quietly came the answer,
“The creature…Lammortan…the creature must do and obey. The Song will be sung again, and my voice will join with it.”

Instantly the Shadow let out a scream of rage and drove its burning hand deep into the socket of the gouged-out eye. A cry of unspeakable agony echoed through the ruins, and a river of dark blood gushed from the empty hole. The horde saw it and went insane with joy. But they had only begun their celebration, when there was a thunderous roar. The mob leaped back as great cracks appeared in the statue. The agonizing cry of Sandalban faded into a gasp as his body split open and granite flesh fell away, revealing bones. Then they too crumbled and broke until the arena was littered with dust and jagged pieces. Finally, all that remained of the great horse was his head lying on the stadium floor.

With a shout of victory the dark riders gathered behind their leader and began a triumphal march. To Amanda’s horror she realized that they were heading straight toward the tunnel beneath her hiding place. Huddling down, she tried to flatten herself against the stone. As the stallion and the Burning Shadow passed below, the air was filled with a stench so horrible that she gagged. In a few moments the last of the horde had clattered out of the building. Then, with a thunder of hoofbeats, she heard them rise into the air. A moment more, and they were gone.

When Amanda could breathe again, she started sobbing. Once more came the whisper of Sandalban, but this time it was very weak.
“Bellwind’s friend…come quickly. Bring the child. Let him…touch my head.”

Trying to control her sobs, Amanda climbed down and made her way through the bloody dust and broken bones.

“Little girl…dry your tears and turn toward the Mountain. Think of nothing else…than completing your task.”

“But he’s looking for me. He wants to
kill me.”

“The One Who Lives Above…He is greater than all. Your life…is in His hands.”

“But I’ll never make it to the Mountain. They’re gonna catch me.”

“While you carry this little one…you are hidden in his light. Your enemies live and see only in darkness. But they sense his presence…and are filled with fear. Remember this. Help may come…in shapes that are unexpected. This much I can tell you, your path…is filled with pain. But at its end…lives joy forever. Trust…and walk on…as quickly and as far…as you can. Now, let him touch me…for my life is slipping.”

Amanda lifted the baby. The little boy reached out both his tiny hands. As soon as he laid them against the broken stone, a wonderful thing happened. The pieces of the sculpture began to glow. Suddenly, out of the destroyed remains there rose the form of a gigantic, shining stallion. Not a stone horse, but a creature with the breath and fire of the stars. As though awakening from a long sleep, he stood and shook himself. Then, raising his head, he gave a joyful cry.

“Father of the Mountain…I come!”

Washed in waves of brilliance, the spirit of the mighty Worwil leaped into the air. Higher and higher he flew until he became a streak of lightning. And when the lightning vanished, thunder roared—the whole stadium began to shake. Huge fissures appeared in the walls. The ground began rising and falling with such violence that all Amanda could do was drop down and try to shield the little boy. Then, with one rolling crash, the building fell away. In a moment all that was left of Sandalban’s prison were great mounds of moonlit stone.

A
manda awoke.

She didn’t feel good. Not good at all. Where was she? Beneath her was a slab of dusty granite. With a jolt of terror she sat upright.

Where was the baby?

Struggling to her knees, she looked around…and saw him. He was playing in the dust under the statue’s head. Though she was stiff and her body ached, she rushed over and scooped him up…then gave him a big hug.

“You gotta stop crawling away like this. You’re gonna scare me to death.”

He smiled and dropped a tiny fistful of dirt on her clothes. Brushing it off, Amanda stared at the shattered ruin. Nothing was left of the stadium but giant piles of rock. After the earthquake she had been afraid to move and had remained on the ground, trying to protect the little boy until they both had fallen asleep.

“Look at this place. We are in trouble. The tunnel’s gone. I don’t even know where it was. And our backpack is buried under a million tons of rock. I’m starving and I’ll bet you’re hungry too. I guess we should try to find the path.”

After placing him in his sling, she began picking her way between the mounds of rubble. Several times she slipped and almost fell. Finally she managed to climb out into the forest. A small stream was nearby, and at the edge stood a scraggly apple tree. Water and half-rotten apples became their breakfast. When they were finished, Amanda climbed onto a stump and tried to figure out where they were, but nothing looked even slightly familiar. And trying to see the Mountain through the trees was useless—they were too thick and tall.

“I guess we’ll just have to walk around the building until we get to where we came in. I hope we can find it.” But by the time she had stumbled three quarters of the way around the giant heap, her legs ached and her arm hurt so much that she wanted to cry. The disease was back and it was a lot worse.

After a short distance they found the entrance to a trail. “Maybe this’ll take us to the path. I sure hope so ’cause I’m starting to feel really bad.” But it was only a narrow animal track that wound through dense underbrush. As she pushed through, Amanda did her best to protect the baby from sharp branches, which meant that she couldn’t protect herself. Soon she was covered with scratches and scrapes. A few more minutes, and the trail sloped downward into a shallow ravine. By then it was clear that it wasn’t leading back to the path, but she was too tired to retrace her steps. All she could do was continue on, hoping for a view of the Mountain. But the view never came.

The ravine broadened into a narrow valley bordered by jagged cliffs. The bushes receded, which made walking easier, but now she felt such pain in her joints that every step was agony. The patches of dead skin were getting bigger, and there were new ones on her chest and stomach. At one point she fell and scraped her knee. The skin broke but there was no blood. Instead, from the wound came a sticky pale-red ooze, and the pain was almost unbearable. Though she cried, she kept going.

In the middle of the afternoon a cold fog began to rise. The night was going to be miserable. Shivering, Amanda hugged the baby. “At-at least…you’re warm. If only…I could…catch my breath. I…just…can’t…seem to get…any air.”

Suddenly she smelled smoke. “S-something’s burning. With my luck…it’ll be…a…forest fire.” The smell grew stronger, and in it was a foulness like charred meat.