Flight of the Night Hawks

An elderly man entered the hall from a door to the right, walking slowly with the aid of a white staff taller than himself. His white hair flowed to his shoulders and it wasn’t until he was almost at Magnus’ side that the boys saw that his eyes were filmed over; he was blind.

‘Why do you disturb our slumber, Magnus?’

‘My brother lies dying,’ Magnus replied, standing to face the old man as the boys reached them. ‘You know my father, and you know what we do. We need my brother’s life spared.’

The old man stared into space, looking frail, but his voice was deep and strong. ‘Our mistress gathers us all to her when it is our time. I may do nothing to alter that.’

‘You can heal him!’ said Magnus. ‘I know what arts you are capable of, Bethanial.’

‘Why didn’t you take him to the temple of Killian or Sung? Healing is their domain.’

‘Because my family made a pact with your mistress years ago, and she can choose not to take my brother. He is needed. It is not time yet.’

‘When is it ever the time for those left behind?’ asked the old High Priest.

Magnus stepped closer to him and said, ‘It is not his time yet!’

‘When is his time?’ echoed a voice through the hall, and the boys instinctively clung to one another, for there was a cold note of hopelessness in it. Yet it also held a faint echo of reassurance, that left a feeling of certainty that all would be well in the end.

Magnus turned to look at the gigantic statue. ‘When this world is safe,’ he answered.

For a moment, all the torches flickered and dimmed.

Magnus found himself within a vast hall, with a ceiling so high it was lost in darkness above, while the walls were so distant he could only see the one to his right; the other boundaries had vanished in the distance.

He stood amidst a chessboard of stone biers. Men, women, and children rested upon them, though many were empty. As he watched, he saw a woman sit up and dismount her bier in the distance, and then start to weave her way through the maze of stone.

An empty bier next to Magnus was suddenly occupied by a baby, no more than a few hours old. Magnus paused to wonder how this infant, who obviously had not survived for long after its birth, would manage the feat of climbing down and walking to meet the Goddess. Then he reminded himself that none of this was real. Magnus knew that he was seeing an illusion of the gods – an image made so he could apply some reference and logic when dealing with a power far beyond his own. Magnus’ patience was thin at the best of times, now it was slighter than parchment. He waved his hand and said, ‘Enough!’

The hall vanished and he stood on top of a mountain, in another vast hall. It appeared to be fashioned from ivory and white marble. Columns supported a vast ceiling high above, but now Magnus could see the walls.

The hall opened on a vista of the distant mountain peaks, and the air was bitterly cold and thin. Magnus adjusted the air around his body so that he felt warm and could breathe easily. Outside, a sea of white clouds lingered just below the lower edge of the floor and he knew he stood in the Pavilion of the Gods, a place his parents had told him of. He smiled, for it was here they had first spoken together, and it seemed a reasonable choice for his meeting with the Goddess.

A figure in black robes sat alone on a simple marble bench. It was a young woman, and as Magnus approached, she pulled back her hood. Her skin was as white as the finest porcelain, yet her hair and eyes were black as onyx. Her lips were the colour of blood, and her voice was like an icy wind as she said, ‘Your powers are prodigious for a mortal’s, Magnus. You may someday eclipse your father and mother in your mastery of magic. You also have far more arrogance than either of them.’

‘I lack my father’s gift for patience and my mother’s acceptance of expediency,’ said Magnus, with a defiant note in his voice. ‘My brother is needed. You know that.’

‘I know no such thing,’ answered the woman. ‘Your father once came to me with his friend, the human who became Valheru,’ she said, standing.

Magnus was surprised to discover that she was taller than him. For some reason that annoyed him. With one thought, he stood taller than the Goddess.

The woman laughed. ‘Vanity, too?’ She nodded. ‘Your father then came to me a second time.’

‘I know,’ said Magnus. ‘He told us of your bargain.’

‘Did he?’ She turned her back and walked away, as if studying the mountain peaks below. ‘I remember no bargain. I do, however, remember giving him a choice.’

‘I don’t understand,’ said Magnus.

‘I know you don’t. I do not know what your father has told you about what is coming, but I have no debt to you or your family, just an understanding which I struck with Pug years ago. Your brother stands with no exemption from fate; he lies at the entrance to my realm and I am under no obligation to refuse him. It is his time.’

‘No,’ said a voice from behind Magnus.

He turned and saw a thin, frail old woman with skin like translucent bleached parchment stretched over ancient bones. Her hair was white and she wore a robe the colour of the snow on the distant peaks. Her robe and hair were arranged with ivory clasps and rings, and her feet were hidden by the hem of her robes. ‘You may do as you wish, daughter, for you are ruler of your domain, but that is just the point: you may do as you wish.’

‘I have an obligation to keep order, and don’t call me “daughter”, old woman. You do not belong here.’

‘I belong nowhere, it seems.’ She glanced at Magnus and smiled.

Magnus studied the old woman and said, ‘You’re the witch from the village.’

‘No,’ said the old woman. ‘But I know her, as I know many others.’

Magnus revealed confusion, for the two women were identical, save that the witch had iron-grey hair and her skin was like leather. ‘Then who are you?’

‘I am one who once was and one who will be, but now …’

‘She is no one,’ said Lims-Kragma.

‘Yes,’ said the old woman, and suddenly she was gone. But her next words hung in the air. ‘You may do as you wish.’

For a moment, neither Magnus or the Goddess spoke, then the Goddess of Death said, ‘Very well. I refuse your brother entrance to my realm. His judgment shall await another time; take him to your island.’

‘Who was that?’ asked Magnus.

‘One who was,’ said the Goddess, then with a flicker of expression that suggested turbulent emotions, she added, ‘and perhaps, as she says, one who will be again one day,’ and with a wave of her hand she took the two of them back to the temple. Everyone stood frozen in time, likes flies caught in amber, and the Goddess said, ‘Ask Nakor or your father about echoes.’ Then suddenly she was gone, and everyone around Magnus began moving.

With a groan, Caleb opened his eyes. He blinked, then said weakly, ‘Brother?’

‘The Goddess answered your prayer,’ said the high priest, bowing his head. The other priests followed his example and also bowed.

‘Come,’ said Magnus to the boys as he picked his brother up from the floor. Caleb’s eyes closed and he fell unconscious again, his head resting against his brother’s shoulder. The boys stood close to Magnus and again felt a sensation of darkness followed by a moment of disorientation.

They stood near the ocean. Tad and Zane could smell the tang of sea salt in the night air. Tad pointed to the two moons in the sky and the boys knew that they were some miles northwest of McGrudder’s inn. Magnus said nothing as he walked towards a large, square building.

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