He grunted as the pain intensified. While he was attending to his soul, his body was being pulled by the power of the Heart of Gold. With its primeval magic, it was trying to change his physical self, wrenching it into patterns long gone from the face of the earth. His bones creaked, yearning to reshape themselves along strange, ancient lines.
He dug in. It was no good holding onto his soul if his body was consumed.
Accustomed as he was to changes in his being, he drew on his experience. It helped him resist the transformational waves that pulsed through through every inch of him.
Nevertheless, a particularly sharp jab made him hiss and open his eyes. He was surprised when he saw that night was close. Shadows of the houses stretched across the road ahead. They'd reached the city.
'Steady on, old man,' George said. 'I'll get you there.'
Aubrey closed his eyes and sought for the strength to endure.
'WE'RE HERE.'
Aubrey jerked and opened his eyes. Black shapes skittered across his vision, vague almost-decipherable sigils that frightened him badly. He blinked and they swirled away. 'George?'
'Easy, now. Let's get you out of the lorry.'
Aubrey did his best, but without his friend, he would have been stuck there. George lifted him out and he was grateful to feel a breeze on his skin.
'Come on, now,' George said. 'We have to hurry.'
'Hurry?'
'We crashed through a blockade or two. And I don't think we're meant to park here, either.'
With an effort, Aubrey lifted his head. They were right outside the processional doors of the Cathedral of Our Lady. The lorry had mounted the footpath, glancing off a lamp post that was now leaning at something rather less than vertical. The front fender had rammed the bluestone newel post of the stairs. He was grateful that the cathedral hadn't faded like some of the other churches. He wondered if it wasn't because it was closer to the centre of Gallia and so was holding together longer. It was a fascinating thought, but he couldn't hold onto it. It wandered away and was lost in the jumble that his mind had become.
'We crashed?' he asked.
'You weren't paying attention. Other things to worry about, I imagine.' George slipped his arm under Aubrey's armpit and lifted. The world reeled and it took Aubrey a moment to realise he was cradled in his friend's arms. His head was too heavy to hold up and it lolled on his chest. His stomach churned. Time swelled and stretched; hours and instants were indistinguishable. The sounds of the city were woolly and indistinct, as if the normal world was only barely intersecting with his.
Hold on, he told himself.
Three police officers were running either toward him or away from him. He couldn't tell as their shapes seemed to inflate and collapse in an erratic rhythm. He thought he could hear shouts and whistles, but the echoes confused him, coming before they should.
The day was fading.
He still held the Heart of Gold. It sat on his chest and was as heavy as the world. Underneath its immensity, he struggled for breath. He couldn't understand how George could lift both it and him.
'Not long now,' George grunted.
'No.'
George grimaced and staggered up the stairs. He pushed the door open with his hip. Aubrey thought the heavy timber was going to close on his head, but George caught it with his shoulder, grunting, and shoved it aside.
Inside the cathedral it was cool and dark. Candle flames danced as Aubrey tried to make sense of the angles and shapes. Pews, windows on high, columns, stone blocks in the floor. They flitted and changed places as George pounded along the aisle like time itself. Aubrey anticipated every footfall, wincing in advance at the pain he knew would follow, but when it came it was always worse than he'd predicted.
He had vague impressions of people coming close before hurrying away. George didn't speak and Aubrey assumed he, too, was saving his breath.
They lurched out of the church proper and a figure stood in front of them. 'Sister Claire,' George gasped. 'We've brought it back.'
Sister Claire smiled. Serene and patient, Aubrey felt her concern wash over him. 'We know. We felt it coming.'
She disappeared. George groaned and followed her.
The Chapel of the Heart. The alcove. A nun, sitting, hands outstretched. A lamp over her head. Her wimple, touched with light.
'Sister Anne,' Aubrey whispered. His voice sounded strange in his ears, as if it were strained through wire.
Sister Claire spoke. Aubrey heard it as the ringing of bells. 'We've kept our vigil. Someone has waited here, ever since it left.'
Aubrey eased himself from George's grasp, but was grateful when his friend helped him stand. The Heart of Gold beat, slow and soothing now, and the pain vanished. It went so abruptly, so unexpectedly, that his knees buckled and George had to catch him. 'You'll be all right, old man.'
Aubrey wanted to tell him that he was more than all right, but words were thick and clumsy, too big for his tongue to manage. His gaze fell on the Heart of Gold in his hands. Its presence was now restful, not damaging. Aubrey blinked, confused, when it blurred while he looked at it. He tried squinting, but it was like looking through rain-streaked glass. The Heart of Gold eluded his focus, shifting in ways he could not follow.
Suddenly, his surroundings whirled away. Images flashed through his mind, one after the other, as if a cosmic art gallery were being drawn past him at an everincreasing rate.
At first, he saw wilderness, vast forests undisturbed by humanity. He was puzzled – they sported strange, exotic, almost tropical vegetation, lush with vines and tall palmlike trees. Dozens, hundreds of these images rolled past, and the scenes gradually changed: floods, fires, creatures both gargantuan and bizarre. It was then that Aubrey realised the landscape was that of many, many years ago.
The images streamed past him. He watched, amazed and eager to know more. People came, primitive but recognisable. Family groups, clustering together against the wild, becoming a settlement. Farming, hunting, living on the edge of a broad and pristine river. Then moving, crossing to an island in the middle of the river when threatened by a roving band of brigands. A village grew there, protected.
Faster, the images flew. The village extended, the wilderness receded, and the village became a town. Churches and buildings of stone replacing wooden structures, and the first bridge spanned the river. Before long, Aubrey understood he was looking at the birth of Lutetia.
Landmarks appeared – towers, cathedrals – the town grew into a city, and the city became a nation, teeming with people and their lives. Aubrey was taken through happiness and sorrow, loss and triumph. He was shown wars, families, grief, loss, famines, celebrations and progress. He was given Lutetia: the City of Love, the City of Lights, the City of Art, the foremost city of the nation of Gallia.
He held the Heart of Gold in front of him, the true and living heart of Lutetia and Gallia. It was as light as thought. He took a step and placed it in the hands of Sister Anne in the alcove.