Angel Fall (20 page)

She was
not
alone. Amanda buried her face against his chest and for a long time they cried together.

Finally, when quiet came, he said. “Daughter, I want you to understand. Look with me once more.”

Lifting her to her feet, she faced the bed. The man, her mother’s brother, was rising. As he stood up, she looked into his face, and just as within the awful city, she found that she could see beneath his skin. With the double vision, she saw the hideous thing that lived inside him. Sleek. Soft. Putrefied. Rotting. Eyes that were empty circles bleeding drops of death. Torn lips. A jaw hanging open in a silent scream. Yes, all of this and something more. Weakness! The thing that lived within him was weak, disgusting, pitiful, no longer a man, a slave, trembling with fear.

But what was he afraid
of
?

The one who was standing beside her whispered, “Look down at yourself.” She looked. A strange radiance was coming from the bed. It was glowing from inside little Amanda. Beneath her skin was a soft white light. The thing in the man saw it and was terrified.

“He’s afraid of what’s inside me.”

Unable to stand the light any longer, he rushed from the room.

“He was
afraid
and he
hated
me.”

“The power that controls him hates all children.”

“Why?”

“Because a child knows things and never questions.”

“Like what?”

“What did you know when you prayed?”

“I guess that there was someone listening.”

“And why did you stop?”

Amanda didn’t answer.

“Look down at yourself again.”

The soft light was fading.

“What’s happening? Why is it going away?” As she watched, a second face appeared beneath the face of little Amanda. No longer was it the face of a child. Its eyes were old and in them was anger and sorrow and pain. “Why do I look like that?”

“The disease that was in him has entered you. This is what the Dark One wants for every child. Death before they’re born, and if not that, hate and bitterness in their souls. That’s what you are seeing.”

“Is that what I look like inside right now?”

“You’re older.”

“So you mean it’s
worse
?”

Silence.

“No, that isn’t me! That’s not what I look like! I don’t believe it! I’m leaving. You can’t keep me in here.” She rushed to the door. But when she tried the knob, it wouldn’t open. “Let me out!”

“Amanda, this room is buried in your heart. Long ago you closed and locked it. But you locked yourself inside.”

“That’s not true! That’s a lie! I want out right now!” Then she screamed and pounded until she collapsed against the door.

“I’m so tired. I just want to die and sleep forever.”

“Even if your mind sleeps, your soul lies awake in this room. Amanda, do you really want to leave this terrible place?”

Burying her face in her hands, she sobbed, “Yes.”

“Then you must trust me and do a very hard thing.”

“What is it?”

“You must call him back.”

“What?”
She stared in horror.

“Call him back and give him to me.”

“I can’t do that! I can’t bring him back in here.”

“If you don’t, he will keep returning. The hate and rage inside you draws the Evil One. It unlocks the door to your heart.”

Amanda groaned and covered her eyes. Suddenly she had a burning headache. For a long time she didn’t say anything, then she whispered, “If I call him back what are you going to do to him?”

“You must leave that to me.”

“I want you to
hurt
him. I want him to
die
and I want to see it.”

“Which do you want more, to hate or to get out of this room?”

“You saw what he did. I have a right to hate him. I have a right to want him dead.”

“Yes, and no one can take that from you. You must give it up on your own.”

“I can’t. I’m going to hate him forever.”

Then she heard a guttural sound and looked over at the bed. Slowly the head of little Amanda turned toward her, and she saw the face within her face. It was choking with rage, grinding and scraping itself against the inside of her skull. As she watched, its nose and ears began to rub away. Its mouth opened in a scream, but all that came out was an eerie, mewing whine, like the drone of a giant insect.

Amanda covered her ears and shrieked, “Stop it. Stop it. I’ll do anything. Just make that go away.”

“Then call him back…and give him to me.”

“I…don’t know…if I can.” She was gasping and tears were streaming down her cheeks.

“Try!”

“You’ll…be here? You won’t leave me?”

“I’ll be right beside you.”

Instantly she was back on the bed, trapped beneath the covers. The blankets were so tight that she could hardly breathe, but finally she managed to gasp out, “Come…come back…now.” At first she heard nothing. Then as she stared at the door, the knob began to turn. Softly, so softly it opened. And he entered.

Step by step he walked across the floor until he stood above her. Once more she saw the face within the face, and it was
smiling
. Slowly he bent down and the double face drew close to hers. Then came
the whispering…the laughing
. She felt his terrible weight begin to crush her. But just before her mind drowned in darkness, she looked straight into his eyes and whispered, “I don’t want to hate you anymore. I give you…
to him
.”

Instantly the weight was gone. The double eyes, the eyes within the eyes, stared at her. The smile within the smile faded. Slowly the creature rose and came face-to-face with the One in the Mists. It groaned, and from its mouth gushed oozing bile. With a gagging croak it began to sink into the pool of its own darkness. Screaming, it clawed at the bed, trying to reach Amanda, but its arms were shriveling and drying up. Finally only its head stared up at her. And then, with a gurgle of hate, it was gone.

At that moment something happened inside Amanda. It was like an icy shell melting, falling away, and with it, the terrible weight, the crushing heaviness of sorrow that had been on her heart for so long, completely disappeared. It was as though a child buried in a grave had been reborn.

Sobbing, but sobbing with happiness. Sobbing with unspeakable joy.

“Stand up, child.”

Amanda jumped up. She wanted to run and sing, but she stood in front of the man whose face she couldn’t see. His arms encircled her. She buried her face in his chest, and all she could say over and over was, “Forgive me, forgive me, forgive me…for throwing you away with the bear and the dog.”

Gently he whispered, “Daughter, now you are ready.
Awake and be strong.
”

Swirling streaks of crimson and gold. Swirling mists of fire. So soft. And in them, the pink and white room of terror and sorrow faded from her heart.

T
hat’s a
skull
. I don’t like skulls.” Tori was staring at the pile of bones and dirt on the chair.

“It can’t hurt you.” The moth was sitting on her shoulder.

“And look at
that
.” On the wall above the chair loomed a huge stained-glass window. Suspended in it was the image of the regal-looking woman with the terrifying face. “
That’s the one who was sucking on the bottle
.”

“During the day the Painter keeps the spirits of his slaves frozen in glass.”

“You mean she’s alive up there?”

“Well, a kind of living. There’s no reason to be afraid. I’m taking care of you.”

“Yeah, right.”

“And just exactly what does that mean?”

“You’re a
bug
. If she comes down what can you do, fly up her nose?”

“I assure you that if I chose to do so, her nostril would never be the same. However, she is blind and deaf until nightfall—unless you make a lot of noise. Any disturbance will cause the Painter, who sees through her eyes, to know that you are here, which would precipitate a distinctly undesirable conclusion.”

“You’re sure they never come down before night?”

“Almost never.”

“Almost?”

“Lammortan is weak right now. His body is in a kind of prison. He doesn’t want to waste his power. His slaves can’t stand the daylight. It burns their strength away, and it’s up to him to keep them alive. Since he has been in prison, only once in all the centuries has he sent them out when the sun was shining.”

“Why did he do that?”

“A year ago two of them traveled to your world to look for the thing that had been hidden. But it cost him a great deal of energy.”

“Did they find it?”

“Yes, but one of the Worwil stopped them, so now they’re desperate. It’s time to go. Do you see those doors at the back? Go through them.”

Hurrying through the doors, Tori found herself in a sweltering corridor. The walls were covered with paintings that dripped with mold. The moth began fluttering ahead.

“Why is it so hot in here?”

“Have you ever had a fever?”

“One time when I had the flu.”

“This building is full of disease. That’s why it’s so hot.”

“Why are there so many pictures of kids?”

“Lammortan likes to remember his sacrifices.”

Suddenly she began smelling something horrible. “Peeeeuuw, what’s that?”

“The dining room.”

“It smells like
poo
.” The odor got worse until they were outside a pair of ornately carved doors. As they hurried past, she held her nose. “If that’s the dining room, why does it smell so bad?”

“The Painter can read your mind. He takes all the ugliest, most disgusting thoughts inside your head and paints them into imaginary food. Then he feeds it to you and makes you think you’re eating a delicious meal.”

“But it’s really eating poop?”

“If that’s what’s in your mind, then that’s what’ll be in your mouth.”

“What do they drink, pee?”

“He calls it sweet wine.”

“Ewww. Has my brother eaten in there?”

“You’ll have to ask him about that.”

“Where is he?”

“We’ll be there soon.”

“How’d he get in this nasty place?”

“He landed in the ocean in a raft. But he was alone. When he got to the shore he chose a road that brought him here.”

“Why doesn’t he leave?”

“He tried, but he can’t. He’s become one of the Painter’s slaves.”

“Like the things in the windows?”

“Almost.”

“But we can save him, right?”

“If he lets us. He’s very ill. We’ve got to take him to a place where he can get help.” Mirick fluttered to a grimy door and landed on the knob. “Okay, this is it. He’s in this room. But you’ve got to be ready for what you’re going to see because your brother is
in between
.”

“In between what?”

“The living and the dead. His body isn’t dead, but it’s dying, so part of him is trapped in a window and part on a bed. It’s not pretty. When we go in, don’t try to wake him. And one more thing. When he does wake up, I’ve got to stay hidden.” The moth fluttered to her shoulder and his light went out.

“Why?”

“Because his mind belongs to Lammortan and he’ll think I’m an enemy.” He crawled into her hair.

Tori winced. “Not this again.”

“Yes, this again. Here’s what you have to do. Whatever I whisper in your ear, you tell him exactly that. Do you understand how it will work?”

“I think so. Just don’t start tickling.”

“Heaven forbid that I should do that. Now, go in quietly.”

Easing the door open, Tori slipped into the room and stared in amazement. On a wall loomed a massive stained-glass window, and in it was the stupidest thing she had ever seen. It was supposed to be an image of her brother, but gone was the sloppy slouch and the half-snarling smirk. The stained-glass version of Alex stood with his shoulders thrown back and his chin jutted forward as though a steel rod had been shoved up his spine. Sunlight shone through dumbly fearless eyes, and on his mouth was plastered an idiotic grin as though he had been quick-frozen in a drug-induced stupor. And then there were his clothes. He was dressed in grime-slimy jeans and a T-shirt slick with greasy filth that had been rendered in excruciating detail. Adding to this grandeur, around his shoulders hung a cape made of rat skins, their flattened little bodies exquisitely created from tiny chips of gray glass. The entire image made Alex look like the brain-dead king of Sewer World. But then Tori looked down and almost screamed in horror. Beneath the window was a bed and on it lay a filthy shadow wrapped in skin. Alex’s eyes were open, but there was no life in them. They were sunk in a face so gaunt that it looked like a skull. His greasy hair lay matted; his shirt was off, and rivulets of gray filth ran down his bony chest. Walking over to him, she began to cry.

“All right, I admit this is a bit more than repugnant,” Mirick whispered. “But if you want to help him, stop making those snuffling sounds.”

“He looks dead.”

“Well, he isn’t. Now find a place to sit. We’ve got hours to wait before the sun sets.”

Tori looked around the room and froze. On a wall behind her she saw the picture frame. Its glass was gray and empty. “That’s like the one…”

“Don’t worry. It can’t hurt you.”

“Are you sure?”

“The Painter can’t see you until your brother awakens. But if it makes you feel better, go pull the curtain and hide it.”

After cautiously doing this, she sat down on the floor and leaned against the bed. For a long time she stared at the curtain. Finally she fell asleep.

W
ake up.”

Tori’s eyes flew open. Sunlight was fading and the shadows were growing deep. Mirick was still in her hair.

“Stand up and watch the window.”

Something was happening. As the sunlight faded, the colors began to drain from the glass and form a mist in the air. For a moment they hung in a watery blur, then suddenly there was a cracking sound, and a streak of brilliance flashed down into Alex’s body. There was a sucking gurgle and his chest heaved.

“All right, get ready. The next part is going to be singularly unattractive.”

With a muffled shriek Alex lurched and every muscle in his body went rigid. Then he began thrashing. A mass of drooling spittle erupted from his mouth and covered his chin.

“He’s choking.”

“He’ll be fine. He’s just getting put back together.”

Shuddering to the edge of the bed, he flopped to the floor and landed on his face. Tori rushed over and bent down. Mirick whispered, “Don’t do or say anything until he looks up at you.”

Slowly Alex quieted, and with a grunt he opened his eyes. Seeing his sister’s shoes, he twisted his head and squinted up at her through a blur of mucus. “What…?”

She knelt and hugged him. “Alex…”

“What’s this? Who’re you?”

“I’m Tori.”

“Tori…?” He tried to rub the mucus away, but his vision wouldn’t clear. “You’re not Tori. Go’way and leave me alone.”

“I
am
Tori.”

“No, you’re not. You’re just a dream.” He laid his head back on the floor.

Mirick whispered, “Get him up. There isn’t much time.”

She looked at the curtain. It was moving as though in a slight breeze.

“Alex, get up. We’ve got to get out of here.” She pulled on him. Nothing. Then she pinched him hard.

“Ow, stop that.”

“I’m going to keep doing it until you get up.” She pinched him again.

“I said, stop it.”
He struggled to his knees. “Will you leave me alone?”

“We’ve got to get out of here before they all wake up.” When he was on his feet, she began dragging him to the door.

“This is a dream. I know it.”

“I don’t care what you think it is,
just move
.”

Stumbling into the hall, he almost fell, but she caught him. Then she began pulling him down the corridor. After a few moments he stopped and stared at her. “Wait a minute. Who are you?”

“I’m Tori, you jerk
. We’ve got to get out of this horrible place.”

“If you’re Tori, how’d you get in here?”

“I’ll tell you later. Now would you come on?”

“There’s no way out. I’ve tried.”

“Somebody’s gonna help us.”

“Like who?”

Mirick whispered to her what to say.

“He’s here, but you can’t see him,” said Tori.

“What?”

“He’s sort of invisible, but not quite. You’ve got to trust him or you’ll die.”

“This is some kind of trick. I don’t even think you’re really my sister. I told Melesh
I don’t want any more games
.”

Tori kicked him in the shins as hard as she could.

“OW!”

“Does that feel like a trick?”

At that moment a strange, shrieking roar came from far down the hall behind them.

“They’re awake.” Mirick whispered urgently. “Tell him if they catch you they’ll kill you.”

“Alex, they’re coming and they’re going to kill us. Now let’s go.” The sound was growing louder.

“I told you, there’s no way out. This is a stupid waste of time.” But he let her grab his hand and together they began running. With Mirick whispering directions, they rushed down reeking corridors, through mold-choked rooms, then up and down a series of slippery staircases. After that, on and on, constantly running, climbing, descending in what felt like meaningless zigzags, with Alex complaining every step of the way, while the shrieking behind them grew louder. Finally they burst through a door and stopped cold. They were inside a small room; on the wall hung an ancient lantern, and from it came a dismal flicker just bright enough to show that they had come to a dead end.

“This is it? This is where your invisible friend has been taking us? Well, it looks like the game’s over,” Alex sneered. The roar was very loud in the corridor they had just left. “But there’s nothing to worry about. Everybody in here thinks I’m some kind of god, and they’ll do whatever I want. So if you’re really Tori, when they get here it’d be a good idea if you were kneeling and worshiping me. Then everything will be fine.”

“Tell the little ‘god’ to pick up the lantern,” Mirick muttered.

“Pick up the lantern.”

“What?”

“Pick…up…the lantern. Are you deaf?”

“Why should I?”

Jumping two inches from his face Tori shrieked, “Pick it up, you ass!”

“All right! But you’re going to be sorry for calling me that.” He grabbed the lantern from the hook. Instantly there was a deep grinding rumble. Then the floor started tilting and a crack appeared across the bottom of the opposite wall. As they struggled to keep their balance, the floor tilted more and the crack yawned wider. They began slipping toward it. Yelling, they slid through and began sliding with unbelievable speed down a stone ramp as smooth as oiled glass, down thousands of feet in huge circles it took them until it felt like they would slide forever. Finally they tumbled out onto the floor of a cave, and there they sat, dazed and breathless. And the lantern was still burning.

Alex groaned, “I bashed my shoulder. Where the heck are we?”

Mirick whispered in Tori’s ear, “There’s a big hole in the wall. Go through it and you’ll find a tunnel.
Hurry!”

Jumping up, she grabbed the lantern. “Come on.”

“Where’s your stupid invisible friend taking us now, to the dungeons?”

Beyond the hole was a corridor. They had gone a hundred yards when a strange object appeared up ahead.

“What’s that?” Tori raised the light.

They approached cautiously. In the gloom soared the stern of a long narrow boat. Once it had been painted in bright colors, but long ago they had faded to a rusty brown. Alex stared at it. “It looks like a Viking ship.”

“Climb in,” Mirick whispered.

“He says, climb in.”

“Why?”

“I don’t know. Let’s just do it.” She struggled to get over the rail. “Help me, Alex.”

Lifting her, he groaned and swore. “My shoulder’s really screwed. You know, we haven’t escaped anything, we’re just deeper in the mountain.”

“Get in.”

Throwing a leg over the side, Alex dragged himself up and flopped to the floor next to her. The deck was empty except for a long box sitting in the middle.

“Okay, now what’s
that
? It looks like a coffin.” He went over to it and bent down. The lid was ornately carved with words in a strange language.

Mirick whispered, “Find the flower and lay your hand on it, then tell him to open the lid.” Joining her brother, Tori began searching.

“What are you doing?”

“Looking for something.” At one end of the box she found a carved flower, and in the center was the outline of a hand exactly like hers. Carefully she placed hers over it. “Now, open the lid.”

Grasping the wood, Alex pulled and the lid creaked opened. Tori held up the light and both of them stared—lying in the box was the body of a man. He was wearing a simple white robe, and his hands were folded on his chest as though in prayer. Though he must have been dead a thousand years, his body was amazingly preserved. Long silver hair flowed down over a pillow of stone; the skin of his face was as dry and thin as paper, but in it they could still see the creases and lines of great suffering. But even sorrow and ancient death could not conceal his gentle strength.