Chapter 6
Rainsford looked at the diagram yet again. It was palpably warm inside the earthen and stone maze, which did not make sense. If such volcanic activity had been going on all these years, scientists would certainly have picked up on it. Especially after the top of the mountain blew off. Michael's joints, though, whining now after the unexpected climb, were grateful. They had been wandering around for quite a bit, and actually, none of it made sense. The structure was worse than one of those mystery houses, the endless kinds built by eccentric billionaires guilt ridden by the piles of bodies sacrificed in building their empires. Staircases lead to blank walls, passages sank down into underground rivers, gates hung in midair. The labyrinth was not built for human passage, it seemed.
"Well, at least not this part," he said to Gerde, holding up the map to her lantern.
"Mr. Rainsford, can you tell at least which part we are suppose to be heading for?"
To Michael, the map seemed easy enough. The diagram was circular, of course, with entrances and exits clearly marked on sensible points of the compass. None of it corresponded to the real world. Sealed walls met them where doors should be. Some gates did exist, made of pure, solid marble that could not be opened, or worse, just laid out on top of the ground itself. It was a hard thing, being corporeal.
"So basically, this place is built for ghosts?"
"Spirits, yes, essentially. And I wouldn't head for the center of this maze. That would be too easy. I have a feeling this place has many centers, many hearts. Or none."
"What would you suggest, professor?"
Rainsford looked around them. Above them was another gate suspended in the air. Cute.
"Maybe another perception, another way of thinking," he murmured.
"How?" Gerde was worried. She felt so close to Wolfgang in here. She tried to stop herself thinking this way. It was a vain hope, she knew, but the mystery of the place, the obvious spirituality, and danger, helped her see what Shattenjager's faced, and the attraction of it. Another way of thinking...
"I can't tease any logic out of this diagram, Gerde. Nothing helpful to us corresponds. And I can't think like a ghost. If I tried to lead us anywhere, it would be just more dead ends... er, so to speak. And even the option of climbing out of here would be lost."
"Perhaps it can't be done by thinking, professor?" She had an idea, but could not drag this good man into it. "Please give me back the map, sir."
"Excuse me, Gerde?"
"I think you should go back. It's still not too far away to the entrance. I want to try something... that makes no sense." Michael watched her as she pulled out a silver heart from her pouch. He could tell right away that it was recently manufactured, though with great skill, and did not match the other objects half-seen kept within. She held its chain in her hand, stared at it as she touched its shining surface, seemed absolutely unconvinced of its importance. Yet... yet... She quickly placed the chain over her head, and it hung perfectly over her own heart. He could tell she was embarrassed, but made no remark. She stood for a moment, testing the darkness.
"I am going to go in this direction now, professor. I don't think you should follow me."
"Miss, I don't even think I could find my way back, at this point, and I doubt if you will take the time to show me anyway. Might as well stay together." Michael grinned, and knew it was all crazy. "Lead the way."
Gerde said nothing. She could not determine the fate of this man, and knew her own the second she entered the mountain. And there would be no magical protection for any of them. Gerde followed her heart, as she had always done.
********************
After a journey Gabriel only half-remembered, they arrived at the Well. There was such activity above it, as angels flew between the Waters and Heaven, appearing and disappearing in so rapid succession that Knight could not take in what he saw. That would also have been true if they had stood perfectly still before him. That is what they precisely did, when Morrigan approached them. The dimensions held their breaths.
Morrigan spoke. "I come to the Well as Mortal. You cannot reject that one which is with me, and within the world."
The angels stared at her, and at Gabriel. They did not show anger, could not, though they knew what was before them. They retreated, slowly, setting a cleared path to the Well.
Gabriel had never seen such beauty. The creatures that showed themselves to him, whose stirrings fanned the air he breathed.... If he had not the waters of life within him, and Morrigan's presence, he was sure the overwhelming shock to any mortal would have been fatal.
Knight was not ready for this. He wanted to crawl into a hole. He could not think of the horribly scarred, bleeding body he presented to their sacred company. Gabriel felt he was being unmade.
"Grace?" This time it was he who reached for her.
Morrigan looked away from her enemies, toward Knight. Her fierce, angry glare softened. He was not a threat now, and not here. She had better concerns, and withdrew.
"Gabriel, come see." Grace took his hand and lead them to the edge of the Well. He didn't want to look, afraid for any soul he had left. Grace had always had faith, and even she was changed by this but not completely extinguished. And maybe he wasn't either, since his ("planet-sized," Grace had always chided, and laughed) ego, the thing that always told him he was indestructible and could survive any mere vision, any knowledge, told him to gaze.
He looked over the edge of the Well, into its visionary waters.
Within the Well, was the story of the World...
But not this world. It was the world as it would have been. Eden, unfallen. And all the wonders that could have been from that pure beginning. The story told within, the progress of mankind from true wisdom, understanding, patience, love, gave the Heavens hope, reminding them the promise of human existence. Even if humans were now just a faint echo of these potentials.
The Well was an illusion. It was also a Siren's call.
Grace pulled Gabriel back from the edge of it, for he had almost pulled himself into its images.
Knight had seen his own story. He had seen his parents there, alive and young, their companionship unbroken. He could almost talk to them, almost reach and touch them, for their faces, unlined with cares and living in an age parallel with his own, were just a small distance away, among a crowd of laughing friends. If his voice could just carry over the barriers of existence, he felt they would look up, puzzled at this strange call, yet would answer him, welcoming. He could finally ask them the things he had wanted to, or at least let them know what he was trying to accomplish, what he was making of it all, that he was still there...
Knight enviously looked at the people they were with. He recognized them somewhat, familiarity among faces he had never seen. They had to be Shattenjagers, but not as Shadow Hunters, for there was no need, but as wise, enthusiastic knowledge gatherers who reveled in science and the spiritual world for its unblemished discoveries. He thought he even had a glimpse of himself, never having known loss, never needing a barrier against hurtful love, never divided by his dual nature, never unsure...
He fought with Grace, unmindful of her deep wounds now that he had seen, and broke away from her.
"There is nothing in the Well for you, Gabriel. You can never reach that place. You can try, forever falling in its depths, but now with the knowledge we have. Better to accept another hell."
At the waters, Gabriel shut his eyes before he could glimpse it all again.
"Morrigan," another voice said from the midst of the waiting hosts, "you have no need here. For what do you plead?"
"I plead for that one, she said, pointing to Knight. "He has tasted the Well's contents. He stands between worlds. He and his ancestors misguidedly performed your biddings. And you have allowed this. I plead for him."
Knight looked at her, not understanding his place in all this.
"You are just one of many who have been here, Gabriel. Though only a few have survived this last distance. The Great Worm will not consume you. You have importance between the worlds. Pledge yourself to Beithir, and know what he does has been sanctified by the heavens as well."
The hosts were silent. They would not interfere in this decision. But they looked at Gabriel, dispassionately. He felt like an insect under their gaze, something fascinatingly horrible, crude, and foreign. These were suppose to be the interceders for mankind, the messengers of God and deliverance, guardians of fools and over troubled lives why were they doing nothing? Was this betrayal, or how had he so failed that they rejected him utterly?
"See how they look at you, Shattenjager. The vanity of your "good fights." You could never have righted any wrongs, conquered perceived evils, or bring about any small part of Eden. You perhaps allowed part of the world to stagger on another day, another day of crippled suffering. You should have let the wolves feast, the witches dance. They were fast and merciful. Lucky are those who die young, unknowing..."
"No, there is still something left..."
Morrigan laughed, her argument won. "Something? Is that all this amounts to? Where, Shadow Hunter? How far will you seek out this 'something.' Your cynical heart does not believe that. You have no faith. Who do you parrot now? What is the good reward for all your efforts?"
Grace whispered to Gabriel as his eyes filed. "This pained world will never match the promise within the Waters. Bring about its end, and start another that can succeed."
*****************
The Labyrinth rumbled, and Michael fell against Gerde. She nimbly stepped away from his falling weight, which would have done her some damage had they collided further. Rainsford was later kinda glad she did that too.
"Ooouff. D*mned it." Rainsford hit the stony ground jarringly, and the amulet bounced out of his deep-sided, trouser-pocket.
Gerde looked at it. "What are you doing with that?" She picked up Knight's crest, though it held no power for her.
"Oh, you know the owner? Strange, strange man. I was... returning it." Gerde looked at him angrily suspicious. "Honest."
"Do you know what this is?" she said to him.
"No. I was going to research it back at the college... I mean, if, when, er, after it was lent to me." Gerde glared at him as Michael flushed. "I didn't know you knew him! If I had thought of it, though, maybe I should have connected you being here with him, or something. But you and he don't exactly seem a match. I'm afraid I'm pretty bewildered, miss. I blame the fumes."
"Fumes?"
"Well, wasn't that just a volcanic earthquake?"
"Volcanoes? In Scotland?"
"Um, well, it's just a theory." Rainsford turned a little redder. "So, er, what is that thing?"
Gerde held onto the amulet, and walked into the epicenter of the quakes. She knew what direction to go in now, because someone, or something, was shrieking from its heart.
******************
Within the Well of Souls, Beither was emerging. Gabriel looked through the Promise, its visions dying, and saw the worm's blind head deep in the depths of the cleared waters. It opened its mouth, nightmares half digested in its maw.
"Call forth the end, Shattenjager. Name the ending. Your blood is within It. It will listen to you."
"You... you said that world is unattainable. Why..."
She smiled, with all the reassurance of Hell. "I will not allow my new Eden to fall again. This time, there will be no test."
Knight's heart wanted the dream. His mind wanted the destruction. And his blood wanted to believe Morrigan's every word. He never truly believed he had a soul. Now, it acted.
"You're right, Morrigan. I believe everything you've said. You said I had to pick my Hell. I choose... this world."
The angels no longer looked at Gabriel dispassionately. Grace shrieked.
"You could have done so much, Shattenjager! Betrayer!" She screamed the word until there was blood on her lips. Then she tore out Knight's heart.
**************************
In the first second, Michael saw Grace covered in blood, holding her pulsing heart through a deep, deep wound. In the second moment, Gerde saw Knight still convulsing on the ground, a puddle of blood spreading from both opened torsos. Looking at Gabriel dying, hands clutched in the same manner Wolfgang's had been, face contorted like his should have been, Gerde saw the face of the real creature before her, and realized the heart it was holding was not its own. In the last second, Michael saw Gerde rushing up to Grace while he stood frozen, to help her, he thought, as Grace took Gerde's dagger plunge to the hilt. She ripped the knife downward as she pulled it from Grace's neck, causing the mortal cut to split further as blood burst from the artery. Nakimura fell, her look full of bewilderment and betrayal as she recognized Gerde, and died beside Knight, their blood mixing as it flowed toward the Well.
But Morrigan still stood, clutching Gabriel's heart.
She no longer needed them.
All she needed now was betrayed blood, the ultimate proof of the lied Promise.
Morrigan spoke to Gerde. "Gerde, poor child. This is why your family could never aspire to Shattenjager. Fear and anger too easily provoke, do they not? Grace had not attacked you, had not even threatened. Why have you done this to her?"
Gerde fought the nausea of what she had just done. What Had she done? She began to tremble, the useless weapon still in her hand. How could she have been so wrong? How could that awful image of just a few moments ago, a few moments she would trade life for to take back, have been Grace? She could not believe, would not believe, that she had... had killed her, and done no harm to the evil inside. She drew the weapon upward without even knowing. It was such an ineffectual and feeble thing, futile against the incorporeal creature before her. The amulet's owner was also gone to her. How could she have been so wrong about it all...
"Poor, poor child..."
Gerde used the ancient weapon to slit her own throat.
"No! Gerde!" Michael could not even catch her as she fell at Morrigan's feet.
The ground shook again as Beither received fresh motivations.
These were all strangers to Rainsford. He could have easily walked away from it all. Morrigan hardly looked at him, as she lightly picked up the amulet from Gerde's stilled hand. To Rainsford's filled eyes, the world had stopped moving, and this empty moment could have lasted unbroken for eternities. Perhaps he was the last mortal, and now stood at the threshold of new worlds. He had always wanted this. He knew this was all the things he had sought. But never in this way. Never.
"I had not seen you in my visions of this moment, Stranger. Yet, I know your blood for you are one of my own. You may come see the beginning, or stay here with the dead. It will not matter where you go."
Morrigan walked the short distance to the edge of the Well, and seemed to be crossing everlasting impossibilities.