Creatures of Light and Darkness

SHADOW AND SUBSTANCE

“Father?” says the dark horse shadow upon the castle wall.

“Yes, Typhon.”

“Father!”

A sound to break the ears occurs, then:

“Anubis said you had perished!”

“He lied. Osiris must have wielded the Hammer, saying that he was saving the universe, for I was losing the battle.”

“That is true,” says the Prince.

“I was not losing, however; I was winning. He wished to slay me, not the Nameless.”

“How did you survive?”

“A reflex. I went into fugue as the blow descended. A fraction of it fell upon me and Anubis retrieved me, senseless, and spirited me off to his House. He scattered my gear across the Midworlds. He trained me as his weapon.”

“To slay Thoth?”

“That was the task he gave me.”

“Then he dies!” says Typhon and rears, flaming.

“Desist, brother,” says the Prince. “He did not succeed, and we may yet have a use for the dog…”

But already the dark horse shadow has faded, and the Prince lowers his head.

He looks to Set.

“Should we follow to stop him?”

“Why? Anubis has lived a thousand years too long. Let him guard himself now. -And how? Even if we would, there is none can stop Typhon when the madness lies upon him.”

“That is true,” says the Prince, and, turning, he addresses Vramin:

“If you would serve me further, my former Angel of the Seventh Station, go you to the House of the Dead. It will soon require the presence of one who can operate the machinery.”

“Typhon was Lord of the House of Fire,” says Vramin,

“Yes, but I fear he will not remain in the House of the Dead after he has gained vengeance. If I know my brother, he will then seek out the one who wielded the Hammer. He will go after Osiris.”

“Then I shall remove me to the House of the Dead. Will you accompany me, Madrak?”

“If the Prince has no further use for me here.”

“I have not. You may go.”

“Lord,” says Vramin, “it is kind of you to trust me again, knowing the part I played in the Wars of the Stations…”

“Those days are gone, and we are different people-are we not?”

“I hope so-and thank you.”

The Prince crosses his arms and bows his head. Vramin and Madrak vanish.

“How,” says the Steel General, “may I assist you?”

“We go again to fight the Nameless,” says the Prince Who Was A Thousand. “Will you come and stand in reserve?”

“Yes. Let me summon Bronze.”

“Do so.”

The winds of Marachek stir the dust. The sun flickers its way into another day.

Vramin stands in the great Hall of the House of the Dead, holding his Maypole cane. Its streamers go forth, entering into all the passageways, visible or otherwise, which come together at that place.

At his side, Madrak shifts his weight from foot to foot and stares about him.

Vramin’s eyes glow, and the light dances within them.

“Nothing. Nothing alive. Nowhere,” he says.

“Then Typhon has found him,” says Madrak.

“Then Typhon is not here either.”

“'Then he has slain him and departed. He doubtless seeks Osiris now.”

“I wonder"

“What else could it be?”

“I do not know. But now I am master here, by delegation of the Prince. I will find the places of power and learn their functions.”

“Yet once you broke faith with the Prince…”

“That is true-and he forgave me.”

Then Vramin seats himself upon the throne of Anubis, and Madrak pays him homage, saying:

“Hail, Vramin! Master of the House of the Dead!”

“You need bend no knee to me, old friend. Please rise. I will need your assistance, for this place is quite different from the Seventh Station, where once I reigned.”

And for hours Vramin studies the secret controls about the throne. Then, “Anubis!” cries a voice which he knows is not the voice of Madrak.

And somehow he mimics the bark, the whine:

“Yes?”

“You were right. Horus was defeated, and he returned here. But he is gone again.”

It is the voice of Osiris.

He gestures with his cane, and the big window appears in the middle of the air.

“Hello, Osiris,” he says.

“So the Prince has finally moved,” says Osiris. “I suppose I am next.”

“I hope not,” says Vramin. “I can personally attest to having heard the Prince assure Horus that he would not take vengeance upon you-in exchange for cooperation.”

“Then what has become of Anubis?”

“I do not know for certain. Typhon came here to kill him. I came here to clean up after Typhon and to hold the Station. Either he has slain him and departed, or Anubis fled and Typhon followed. So listen to me, Osiris: Despite the Prince’s assurance, you are in danger. Typhon is not aware of the Prince’s promise, and he was not party to it. Having learned the true story from Set himself and having heard it confirmed by the Prince, he is likely to seek vengeance on the wielder of the Hammer-“

“Set lives?”

“Yes. He was known for a time as Wakim.”

“Anubis’ emissary!”

“None other. The dog had stripped him of his memories and sent him to slay his own son-and father. That is what moved Typhon to anger.”

“A pox on the whole bloody family! And what has become of my son? He but left me this note, and-Of course!”

“ ‘Of course,’ what?”

“It is not too late. I-“

“Behind you, on the wall!” cries Vramin. “Typhon!”

Osiris moves with a speed which belies his fragile appearance. He dives toward a green tapestry, casts it aside and moves beyond.

The shadow flows after him and rears.

When it moves away, there is a Typhon-shaped hole in the tapestry and the wall itself.

“Typhon,” says Vramin.

“I am here,” comes the voice. “Why did you give warning?”

“Because Thoth gave him his life.”

“I was not aware of this.”

“You did not remain long enough to hear it repeated. Now it is too late.”

“No. I fear he has escaped me.”

“How so?”

“He was not within the chamber when I destroyed it.”

“This may be a good thing. Listen. We can use Osiris.”

“No! There can never be peace between our families so long as he lives, regardless of any chivalrous sentiments my brother may mouth. I love my brother, but I will not abide by his forgiving this one. No. I will search this House until I find Osiris and he passes down Skagganauk Abyss!”

“As did Anubis?”

“No! Anubis has escaped me!” comes the cry. “For a time.”

Then Typhon rears, the flames come, and he is gone.

Vramin makes a daisy-beheading gesture with his cane, and the window is closed.

“Anubis still lives,” says Madrak, looking back over his shoulder.

“Obviously.”

“What shall we do?”

“We shall continue to study the functions of the House of the Dead.”

“I wish to rest.”

“Then do so. Find yourself a near chamber and retire. You know where the food is.”

“Yes.”

“Till later, then.”

“Till later, Lord”

Madrak goes forth from the great Hall, and he wanders. He comes, after a time, to a chamber where the dead stand like statues. He seats himself among them. He speaks.

“I was his faithful servant. Hear me, lady with the breasts like melons. -I was his faithful servant. The poet went to war with other Angels, knowing it went against his will. But he is forgiven and exalted. And where am I? Servant to a servant.”

It is not fair.

“I’m glad you agree with me. -And you there, fellow with the extra arms. Did you spread religion and morality? Did you single-handedly defeat monsters and wondrous beasts among the unenlightened?”

Of course not.

“So you see…” He slaps his thigh. “So you see, there is no justice, and virtue is constantly betrayed, befouled, imposed upon. Look what has become of the General, who devoted his life to humanity: Life took away his own humanity. Is that justice?”

Hardly.

“All comes to this, my brothers. We all become statues in the House of the Dead, regardless of the lives we led. The universe never thanks. The giver is never repaid. -Oh, You Who May Be, why did You make things to be this way-if You did make things to be this way, that is-why? I have tried to serve You and the Prince Your Agent. What has it gotten me? Coach fare and third-class accommodations. I am glad that Set battles the Nameless without the gauntlet of power-“

“What?”

And looking up, he sees a statue which had not been there before; and unlike the others, it moves.

Its head is the head of a black dog, and its red tongue darts and curls.

“You! How could you have hidden from Vramin, escaped Typhon?”

“This is my House. It will be many ages before all its secrets may be learned by another.”

Madrak stands, and his staff spins in his hands.

“I do not fear you, Anubis. I have fought in every clime and place where man may take the Word. I have sent many to this House, and I come myself as a conqueror, not as a victim.”

“You were conquered long ago, Madrak, and you only just now realized it.”

“Silence, dog! You speak to one who holds your life in his hands.”

“And you speak to one who holds your future in his.”

“What do you mean?”

“You said that Set goes to battle the Nameless once again?”

“That is true. And when the Nameless has been destroyed, the millennium will come.”

“Ha! Save your metaphysics, preacher. Answer me another thing, and I will tell you a very good thing indeed.”

“What thing?”

Anubis steps forward, limp arm fluttering, at his side.

“What of the gauntlet of power?”

“Oh,” says Madrak, removing a gauntlet from beneath his dark garment and drawing it upon his right hand. “When I obtained this item, I thought that worlds might be won for the faith with it.” It reaches to his elbow, his shoulder. “I did not know that Wakim was Set. I was tempted to keep it for myself. So I substituted my own gauntlet-that-grows. It is a common enough item in some places among the Midworlds. This one seems to be of peculiar potency, while the other is but ordinary armor.” The gauntlet now flares to cover his back, his chest.

“I could kiss thy fat cheeks!” says Anubis. “For Set will now have less of a chance against the Nameless. -And all along you planned this betrayal! You are a shrewder man than I’d supposed, Dad!”

“I was used and I was tempted…”

“But no more shalt thou be used. Oh no! Now you wear the glove, and I propose an alliance-“

“Back dog! You’re not better than anyone else! I’ve something you want now and my backside is suddenly kissing-sweet. Oh no! Whatever I do with my newfound power, I do for one person: Me!”

“The alliance I propose will be mutually beneficial.”

“I need but give the alarm and you will be bound so tightly that all your guile will not serve to free you. I need but spin my staff in the proper manner and your brains will decorate the walls. So speak now, with that in mind, fork-tongue, and I will listen.”

“If Osiris still lives,” says Anubis, “and if we can reach him, then we three together may be able to destroy Thoth.”

“I am sure that Osiris still lives-though for how much longer this will be so, I cannot say. Typhon pursues him about the House of Life at this moment.”

“We’ve a chance, a very good chance, of recovering all-now that you hold the gauntlet. I’ve got a way to get to the House of Life, and perhaps a way to rescue Osiris, also.”

“Then what? We do not even know where the battle with the Nameless is occurring.”

“One thing by itself, another when it arises. Are you with me?”

“I'll go along with you to the House of Life, as Thoth desires that Osiris live and I may help to effect this much of his will. In the meantime, I shall be thinking.”

“That is good enough.”

“See how the gauntlet grows! Further than before! It is down to my thighs this time!”

“Excellent! The more of you becomes invincible, the better for us all.”

“A moment. Do you seriously think the three of us can defeat Thoth, Set and the Steel General?”

“Yes,”

“How?”

“The Hammer may strike again,” says Anubis.

“It still exists?”

“Yes, and Osiris is its master.”

“Well, granting all these things and assuming that even Vramin, who is now master in your House, may be dealt with-what of the other? What of the great shadow in the shape of horse which will pursue us till the end of our days he who does not live in space as we know it, who cannot be destroyed, and who cannot be reasoned with when anger lies upon him?”

Anubis looks away.

“Typhon do I fear,” he admits. “Ages ago I constructed a weapon-no, not a weapon-a thing-which I thought might serve to restrain him. When I tried to use it recently, he fell upon it and destroyed it. He also took my arm… I admit that I have nothing but my wit to use against him. But one does not throw away an empire for fear of one individual. If only I knew the secret of his power…”

“I heard him mention Skagganauk Abyss.”

“There is no such place.”

“I’ve never heard the name before. You have?”

“Legend, fancy, fiction.”

“And what do these things tell of it?”

“We waste time discussing nonsense.”

“If you wish my assistance, you will answer me. See, the gauntlet now reaches to my knees.”

“Skagganauk Abyss, sometimes called the chasm in the sky,” says Anubis, “is the place where it is said that all things stop and nothing exits.”

“There are many very empty spaces in the universe.”

“But the Abyss is said to be empty of space, also. It is a bottomless hole that is not a hole. It is a gap in the fabric of space itself. It is nothing. It is the theoretical hub of the universe. It is the big exit leading nowhere, under, over, beyond, out of it all. That’s Skagganauk Abyss.”

“Typhon does seem to possess these qualities himself, does he not?”

“Yes, he does; I’ll admit that. But it answers nothing. Curse the mating of Set and Isis! They have begotten a brute and a monster!”

“You can hardly talk, Anubis. Was Typhon always as he is now? How could the Witch be delivered of such a one?”

“I do not know. He is older than I. That whole family is shrouded in mystery and paradox. -Let us be off to the House of Life!”

Madrak nods his head.

“Show me the way, Anubis.”