Once In a Blue Moon (67 page)

“You said you saw the Demon Prince, on your way to the Castle. What was he like?”

“I didn’t actually see the Demon Prince himself, as such,” Jack said quietly. “Just a corpse he wore, like a rotting coat, to speak through. Apparently the Demon Prince lives inside people now.”

“So that means . . . anyone could be the Demon Prince?” said Raven. “He could be staring out the eyes of anyone we meet, listening and laughing and silently plotting against us? Terrific. As though we didn’t have enough problems.”

“Too much talk, not enough movement,” Fisher said briskly. “Follow me, try to keep up, and stay out of the way if I have to use my sword.”

“This is just a Cathedral now,” Raven said carefully. “Has been for decades. There’s nothing here to fight.”

“Lot you know,” said Fisher. “There are doors here—hidden, secret openings to places and realities beyond your worst nightmares.”

“I am seventy-one years old,” Jack said to Raven, “and I used to be the Walking Man, the wrath of God in the world of men. So why do I still feel six years old every time she talks to me?”

“Why do you think I ran away from home, to study magic?” said Raven.

“Jack, Raven, hurry up!”

“Coming, Mother.”

“Is it any wonder I turned to Necromancy, with a family background like mine?” said Raven.

“I heard that!” said Fisher, not looking back.

“Sorry, Grandmother. Coming right along.”

Fisher led the way up the long marble stairway that wound around the inside wall of the Cathedral, the wide steps protruding out of the wall itself. There was no railing to protect climbers from the increasingly vertiginous drop, so they all kept their shoulders pressed firmly against the wall, all the way up. They ascended through floor after floor, rising high into the more rarefied atmosphere of the Cathedral. There were no more crowds, no more tourists, but they did pass many religious types along the way, everyone from quietly scurrying priests to those who’d come on pilgrimage and then stayed to study the many wonders of the Cathedral. Because nothing else could ever match the experiences they found there.

Religious fanatics, like the extreme Order of the Penitents, hung strapped or even nailed to their own crosses, so they could share the suffering of the Lord. Lost in the mystical ecstasy of their penance, they paid no attention to anyone. Meditating monks sat quietly in their own little niches, wearing only simple loincloths, to show their repudiation of the material world. All of them lost in their own thoughts, or visions. Some were actually levitating, sitting cross-legged in midair. A few even had halos.

Jack sniffed loudly as he passed, unimpressed, and regarded all the more extreme types with grave suspicion. “I was a contemplative monk for twenty years, but I still took time out to weed the gardens regularly. Never trust a show-off . . .”

A tall, emaciated figure came shuffling forward from a side corridor, with great rents torn in his robes to show off the blood dripping from his stigmata. He came to a halt before Jack, to ask for his blessing. Jack had to stop or walk right through him; and while he hesitated more pilgrims appeared, addressing him by his old title, the Walking Man, and begging his blessing. Some just wanted a kind word, others wanted forgiveness for sins, and some just wanted to touch him. Jack slapped the reaching hands away and gave a hard prod with his wooden staff to anyone who tried to get too close.

“I’m a monk, not a saint!” he snapped. “And stop calling me Walking Man! I gave all that up years ago!”

“It doesn’t seem to have given up on you, Uncle,” murmured Raven. “No one knew we were coming this way, but here they are. Let them kneel to you, if they want. Didn’t you say earlier that even simple souls must find spiritual comfort where they can?”

Jack glared at him. “This is never what I did. I was never a holy man, or a great soul. I was the wrath of God in the world of men! And all the oceans in the world couldn’t clean the blood off my hands.”

“I thought you only killed in a good cause, in God’s name?” said Fisher.

“Killing is killing,” said Jack. “And blood is blood.”

The religious types were already backing away, disappointed. The Walking Man had let them down by being just a man, after all. Fisher grinned suddenly.

“Now you know why I never use my real name. Never meet your heroes. They’ll always disappoint you.”

Raven smiled. “Maybe we should have a talk later about your reputation, Uncle Jack?”

“Shut up, Nathanial.”

“Yes, Uncle.”

They continued on up through the Cathedral. Past hanging galleries and sheer marble walls, marvellous sights and countless works of art. And still a brilliant light shone from nowhere and everywhere, illuminating everything. There were still shadows, though, here and there. The religious types grew scarcer as Fisher and her party ascended, and the few they saw kept a respectful distance. Some made the sign of the cross when they saw the Necromancer, and some made the sign of the seriously upset. Raven just smiled easily back. He was used to such reactions. In fact, he’d have been disappointed at anything less. The marble stairway wound ever upwards, from floor to floor, and the three climbers passed many fascinating displays and items of religious interest. Jack and Raven would have liked to stop and examine them more closely, but Fisher drove them on with iron discipline and harsh language. She strode from step to step with boundless energy, but Jack found it hard going, and leaned increasingly heavily on his wooden staff. He was in excellent shape for a man of his age, but he was still a man of his age. Raven silently offered his uncle an arm to lean on, and Jack nodded brusquely as he accepted the help.

“What are we looking for, Mother?” Jack said finally. And just a bit testily.

“Call me Fisher,” she said, without looking back. “‘Mother’ makes me feel ancient.”

“You are ancient,” said Jack unfeelingly. “You’re older than me, and I’m old.”

“I am not getting involved in this conversation,” said Raven. “Though I am starting to feel somewhat decrepit myself. I never knew there were this many stairs in the world.”

“All right, all right, we’ll take a quick rest,” said Fisher. She stopped, and looked back at her son and grandson, who were leaning gratefully on each other and breathing harshly. Jack lowered himself to sit on the step, amid much creaking of old bones. Raven put his back against the smooth marble wall.

“I’m getting too old for this nonsense,” growled Jack. “I retired from the world twenty years ago, and it’s experiences like this that help me remember why.”

“We have to do this,” said Fisher. “There are . . . items of power that we need to get our hands on before anyone else does. They’re locked away here, behind secret doors to forgotten rooms.”

“After all these years, Grandmother?” said Raven. “Are you sure?”

“Did you actually see these items of power yourself?” Jack said carefully. “Or are we just chasing legends?”

“I saw them,” said Fisher, and something in her voice made them look at her sharply. “In the Ossuary, the Museum of Bones.”

Jack and Raven looked at each other, and shrugged pretty much simultaneously.

“Never heard of it,” said Jack.

“There is certainly no mention of such a place in any of the official histories,” said Raven. “Is this one of those things you chose not to talk about, Grandmother?”

“The Ossuary contained, among other things, the three lost Infernal Devices,” said Fisher. “The ones no one ever talks about. Soulripper. Blackhowl. Belladonna’s Kiss.”

Jack scrambled back onto his feet, forgetting how tired he was. He and Raven looked hard at Fisher, not even trying to hide their shock.

“There are more of those damned swords?” said Jack. “I was always taught there were only three, and all of them lost or destroyed during the Demon War.”

“Seems like you can’t trust anything to stay lost anymore,” said Raven. “They’re really here? They’ve been here all this time?”

“The great and terrible Transient Being known as The Engineer forged six Infernal Devices,” said Fisher. “Six swords to rule the world or break it forever. The three in the Armoury were bad enough; these were worse. Hidden, or perhaps imprisoned, in the Cathedral long ago. Because some weapons are just too dangerous to be used.”

“Then why do we want them?” said Jack.

“We don’t,” said Fisher. “But we can’t let anyone else have them. If someone has to wield the Infernal Devices in this war, I need it to be someone trustworthy.”

“And that’s us?” said Raven.

Fisher smiled briefly. “Best I can manage.”

“Why not Father?” said Jack. “Why isn’t he here?”

“Because he had a chance to wield an Infernal Blade during the Demon War,” said Fisher. “He chose not to. He always was the best of us.”

“Are you really ready to let these evil swords loose in the world again?” said Jack.

“I’m thinking about it,” said Fisher. “None of us ever talked about these swords before, because we were afraid that someday, someone with good intentions might try to do what we’re about to do. The Walking Man Jericho Lament never spoke a word about these swords. Not even after he resigned his position and married my sister Queen Felicity, to become Prince Consort of the Forest. He didn’t trust what might be done with the swords in the name of duty, and defence of the realm. And now it seems I’m no better than the people we all distrusted. Well, we’ll see.”

“Back in my old Walking Man days,” Jack said slowly, “I walked all through this Cathedral on my last visit. Up and down and back and forth. I was a lot younger then, and stairs didn’t bother me so much. And I never heard of, never saw any sign of, this Ossuary. This Museum of Bones.”

“Some places are only there when they choose to be,” said Fisher. Her face was set and grim, her eyes lost in yesterday. “The Ossuary was constructed entirely from human bones. Taken from the burial grounds of every priest and saint and holy man in the Forest Kingdom. Supposedly brought here to raise the general level of sanctity in the Cathedral. But in reality, the architect who became the Burning Man had them brought here so he could work blasphemy with them.

“After our business here was done, Jericho swore that he would see the museum broken up, and all the bones properly interred again. I don’t think that ever happened. I can . . . feel the museum’s presence, like a bruise on the air, calling me on. Perhaps Jericho decided it was more important that the Ossuary remain hidden, along with what it contained. Lost from history, and public knowledge. He never did believe in taking unnecessary chances.”

“But would you really use the Infernal Devices in the war that’s coming?” insisted Jack.

“Oh hell, why not?” said Fisher. “I did last time.”

They looked at her, shocked again by the incredible past of this woman they only thought they knew.

“In the Demon War, I wielded Wulfsbane,” said Fisher.

“I didn’t know that,” Jack said slowly. “What was it like?”

“The sword was alive and aware, and it hated,” said Fisher. “It tried to corrupt and control me. Just the touch of the sword’s blade was enough to make things rot and decay. I did horrid things with it . . . Wulfsbane was lost in battle, killing a demon the size of a tower. Or perhaps I let it go so it couldn’t have me . . . I did hear that Wulfsbane reappeared some years later, only to be lost again. Good riddance, I say.”

“And you’re still prepared to use these new Infernal Devices?” said Jack. “After everything you went through?”

“Yes!” said Fisher. “Don’t you get it? The Demon Prince is back! That changes everything.”

“Can we really hope to control these swords?” said Raven. “Can we trust them?”

“Of course we can’t trust them!” said Fisher. “They’re Infernal Devices. The clue is in the name. But we can use them. They love war. And killing, and destruction. But we’re not just here for the swords. There is . . . something else, in the Ossuary. Or at least I hope it’s still there. A box. A simple wooden box, supposedly made by our Lord when he was learning how to be a carpenter. And inside that box, the original spark, from when God said
Let there be Light.
The Source, of everything.”

Raven shook his head. “The places you’ve been, and the things you’ve seen, Grandmother.”

“But . . . you couldn’t use such a thing in a war!” said Jack. “It would be sacrilege!”

“Even if we use it to put a stop to war?” said Fisher. “Your predecessor, Jericho Lament, used it. In the Land of the Blue Moon, called Reverie. We thought it would destroy that unnatural place and all the awful things that lived there. We hoped destroying Reverie would put an end to all the Wild Magic in the world . . . But we assumed too much. We should have known better. The Transient Beings are ideas, concepts, given living shape and form in the waking world. How can anyone destroy a concept or an idea? How could we ever hope to destroy a world of Thoughts and Dreams . . . But if the Demon Prince, Lord of the Darkwood, is back in our world again, can you think of a better weapon to use against him and the Darkwood than God’s own Light?”

Jack and Raven looked at each other, and had nothing to say. Some things were just too big to think about. Even after everything they’d seen and done in their very active lives, they knew it was nothing, compared to what Rupert and Julia had seen and done.

“Come on,” said Fisher. “Enough resting, more climbing. Think of how fit all this exercise will make you.”

“Fit for nothing,” growled Jack.

“Fit to drop,” said Raven.

“You didn’t inherit that attitude from my side of the family,” said Fisher.

They ascended even farther through the Cathedral, and the higher they went, the fewer people they encountered, until finally they climbed and walked alone. Through huge empty galleries, and corridors that seemed to have no end, their footsteps echoing loudly in the quiet. And though none of them would admit it, they could all feel a definite, growing sense of drawing closer to something significant.

“We have got to reach the spire soon,” said Jack, stopping for another rest. The aching muscles in his legs trembled from the strain of the long climb, and he was having trouble getting his breath. “It can’t go much higher. It just can’t.”