By Gregg Glory [Gregg G. Brown]
Chapter Twenty "The Well Becomes a Window"
Sarah raced through the bracken, anxious to elude discovery by the bands of searchers Barnabas and Granny Pansy were resolutely gathering. The black trees whipped past, invisible except for their stinging twigs. Sarah was headed toward the well, which would offer at least an evening's refuge before the dockworkers or anyone else would think that little Dar had made it so far.
As fast as she was running, Sarah's mind raced on ahead even faster. The challenges before her were numerous, and she had no idea what to do about any of them. She was leaving her family and her Granny Pansy to shield them from danger. The Gods of Autumn were on the loose because she had wakened the well and the energy of that had allowed the gods to walk the earth once again. She must find some way to quiet them down, or make them go away, or something. One man had already been killed, that protesting dockworker shot by the police. Others like that man, crazed and agitated, had been gathered around the well the last time Sarah was here. And Sarah had jumped into the well too, Barnabas reported. She certainly didn't want to do that ever again. And she wanted even less to have her throat torn out by birds and then get tossed in the well as had happened to the shadow-Sarah in the future-telling Shadem Graviosis conjuration back in the kitchen.
Her parents were out with the Political Committee, trying to get Berny Cottswold put back in charge of the town under some kind of emergency regulation. That would take a lot of petition signatures, but they were well on their way with 40,000 already collected and counting. That was the news Sarah had heard on the radio as she had packed her cardboard suitcase. That would just be more trouble, Sarah thought. Berny Cottswold wanted the police and even the Home Guard to crack down on the dockworkers even more harshly than they already were. If that happened, there would be war in the streets. Nobody would stand for their buddies getting trounced by some squad of out-of-town coppers. And the cops sure wouldn't take any guff.
Up ahead, Sarah could see a dim blue glow coming through the fingers of the trees. That must be the well, she thought. Its still singing away. Sarah wondered what other creatures of the old magic the well was inspiring to come back to life like the Gods of Autumn. For all she knew, when she entered the ash tree clearing the well would be surrounded by ogres and hippogryphs and flying monkeys. Sarah stopped cautiously at the edge and peered through a still-leafy branch to see what was happening before entering the immediate vicinity of the well.
There were no flying monkeys, and it seemed that the dockworkers had dispersed. The Gods of Autumn also hadn't returned from wherever they were going when they had crossed the moon. There was no old crone stirring the well like a gigantic cauldron, and the well itself wasn't evening singing. The little glade was as quiet as a field of new snow.
The steady glow still emanated from the well, however, as if someone has tossed an over-sized plasma TV set into the well while still plugged in. Sarah went over to the well, carefully, and leaned over to look into the quiet hole. This was the first time she was gazing into the well without being deranged by singing since she had first spotted herself in its depths with those hands around her neck. That was an eerie reflection that Sarah would rather forget.
Sarah thought again of her brother Gilman's pendant. That rune-written silver stone had helped her out against Bart during their confrontation, she was now sure. And if she had gone alone into the house Mr. Plimsoul and Eva used, she might well have escaped detection entirely. Perhaps the pendant could help her stay hidden from the searchers looking for Dar as well. Sarah patted herself down thoroughly. The pendant definitely wasn't around her neck, nor in her left skirt pocket. Patting down her right skirt pocket, Sarah felt something small and soft wriggle around under her fingers. Had a mouse hopped in her pocket? Sarah didn't thrust her hand in her pocket, but rather cautiously opened the pocket to peek into it by the glowing light of the well. Down at the bottom of her pocket, next to a spare button, a true-love knot she had tied for Gilman out of heather, and the receipt for the last movie she had seen in town with her best friend Missy about a pair of dueling Illusionists, a small black feather danced and wiggled. Oh, that's right, Sarah remembered, that's the feather Eva plucked from her gorgeous boa. Sarah took the feather from her pocket and watched it dance upright on the palm of her hand. Now, what was that song the Eva had taught her? Something or other about "feather lithesome, feather bright...." Sarah began to sing, almost under her breath.
"Feather lithesome, feather bright Feather dancing day or night When my lonely heart has fears Dance my saving graces near."
The feather's wriggling turned to a sort of dancing in time to Sarah's singing. A little bit like when you pet a cat and its back arches up to meet your palm. Sarah smiled despite herself to see the tiny thing react with such pleasure to her singing. And then she remembered that singing the song would put her in touch with Eva, that Eva would see her "just as if you were before me." She'd be found out by the grown-ups before she had even really started to run away. Still, a calm presence began to come over Sarah, making her feel that things would work out all right anyway.
Just then, the glow of the well began to change. It was darkening. Sarah leaned in to see what was happening. Down in the glow of the well, which had always been sort of like a mist welling up from some unknown depth, a patch was starting to clear. The normal glow of the well was being blown aside, or flattening as if it were rising against a pane of glass. Through the window, Sarah could see a scene begin to unfold.
It was a rocky place, full of ghostly cliffs. At one end of the cliffs, a fiery face was moving its lips like an animated drawing. Closer at hand was a tall dark man with an unhappy face and a huge shied strapped to his back. Was Eva in this place? Is this what the feather was showing her? The feather had lain back down in Sarah's palm contentedly, as though its work were done. It was not wriggling any more. Sarah leaned more deeply into the well, taking one foot off of the grass to do so. She thought she could hear some of the figures in the picture speaking, but the words were coming through at a very low volume.
Was that Eva's voice? It sounded like her. That honeyed tone, explaining just how everything had to be so reasonably, so thoroughly, so doggedly. It was like a parent explaining to a very small child why they must never ever touch a hot stove. If that was Eva's voice, where was she in the picture before her? Sarah then noticed a very small figure facing the fiery face at the far end of the cliffs. It was black in the shadows of the place. And it was slowly flapping a pair of large wings, like a bat. It was talking, and the voice was Eva's! What could that mean?
"Thank you, Ancient One," Eva said softly, but with clarity now that Sarah was paying such close attention. The fiery face seemed to nod.
"Do you accept the judgment, Afagddu?" the fiery face was saying. It was like the voice was inside Sarah's head, it seemed so irrefutable.
The tall dark figure in the foreground pawed the earth with a sandaled foot. It was like watching a bull before it charged. His shoulders were hunched in desperate anger--wanting to strike out, but withheld. Sarah expected the creature to murder Eva in front of her eyes. Sarah felt a gasp of concern leap from her heart. Eva had been kind to her. She at least had understood how terribly hard things could be when others are jealous of your talent. And she had said that Sarah was special. What the creature said next surprised Sarah.
"Ay, Ancient One."
Sarah saw several other large figures stir then. They were arrayed around the rocky place, and Sarah had mistaken them for statues carved into the cliffs they had been so still. But once they had started to move, Sarah recognized them from the night at the well when their shapes had appeared in the trees. These were the Gods of Autumn. And Eva had won something from them, or been given something of theirs by this Ancient One. But what was Eva doing with bat wings? It was bizarre and unsettling. The wings hung from Eva's shoulders as elegantly as a tailored cloak, and suited her that way. Maybe this is why Eva could understand so well about being different. Maybe, Eva wasn't just the great-granddaughter of a Draggonnath, maybe she was one herself.
The wager was over, and, incredibly, the gods had lost. Perhaps the fact that the Ancient One had been called on to judge had swayed the outcome. Had he desired to have less competition awake in the world? Or did he, with his prophetic sight, see some weave in the world that this judgment would come to serve--other than the hopes that Eva harbored, of course. The Ancient One had been since the world began, and while few knew his ways, none knew his reasons. His face looked like it was made of fireflies swirling and darting, thought Sarah.
"This season you may reign as you have done since the world was young. When the season ends, so does your reign. Once again, you will live only in the dreams of men. Until another comes to wake you. Another child, another voice. Or until the foundations of the Earth are broken up, and thrown into the eternal fire to be remade again."
As simply as a blink, the fireflies went out. The fiery face was gone.
And with that, this militant Afagddu, and several other gigantic figures filed out of the window Sarah saw them in. They seemed to be going somewhere very quickly. And they were angry.
Eva was alone among the enormous cliffs. She flapped her velvet wings meditatively, and then looked up as if she had just heard someone call her name. She flapped her wings and flew to where Afagddu had stood, at the very edge of the window in the well. She was peering toward Sarah's face. Her eyes were like daggers coming out of a bowl of milk. Eva seemed as imperious then as a church fresco. Eva's face now took up the entire well, and yet she was still squinting. Suddenly, her face regained a more alluring composure.
"Sarah, darling," Eva said.
END OF CHAPTER TWENTY