He ate slowly, savoring each mouthful. He ate an enormous quantity.
Then he rose and retired to his study, where he located cigarettes. From there he moved to the foot of his favorite tower and mounted its stair.
Atop this tower, smoking, he studied the black sphere. Yes, it had moved considerably since last he had looked at it. Jack blew smoke in its direction. Perhaps it was an effect of the drugs, but he felt a sense of elation over what he had done. Come what comes, he was the mover, father of the new circumstances.
"Are you sorry now, Jack?" asked his soul.
"No," said Jack. "It had to be done."
"But are you sorry it had to be done?"
"No," said Jack.
"Why did you burn the inn at the Sign of the Burning Pestle, on the coach road by the ocean?"
"To avenge Rosalie, for the treatment she received at that place."
"What were your feelings as you walked along the beach afterward?"
"I don't know."
"Were you just angry and tired? Or was it more than that?"
"I was sad. I was sorry."
"Do you get that way very often?"
"No."
"Do you wish to know why you have felt more such things recently?"
"If you know, tell me."
"It is because I am about. You have a soul, a soul which has been freed. I am always near you. You have begun to feel my influence. Is it such a bad thing?"
"Ask me another time," said Jack. "I came to watch things, not to talk."
... And his words reached the ears of one who sought him, as a distant mountain shrugged off its peak, spewed fire into the air, belched and was still once again.
13
JACK LISTENED вЪ the sound of snapping rocks and watched the black spot fall; he heard the groans within the world; he saw the lines of fire cross the land.
There now came to his nostrils the acrid odors of the inner world. Ashes, like the bats of his predecessor, swarmed, rose, fell in the chilly air. The stars executed movements never before recorded in the heavens. Seven torch-topped mountains stood in the distance, and he recalled the day he had made one move. Flocks of meteors constantly strung the sky, reminding him of the appearance of the heavens on the day of his last resurrection. Clouds of vapor and trails of smoke occasionally obscured the constellations. The ground did not cease its trembling, and far below him Shadow Guard was shaken upon its foundation. He did not fear the falling of the tower, for such was his fondness of the place that he had laid mighty spells upon it and knew that it would stand so long as his power held.
His soul stood silent at his side. He lit another cigarette and watched a landslide on a nearby mountain.
Slowly the clouds gathered. They collected in the distance, where a storm began. Like many-legged, fiery-legged insects, they strode from mountain to mountain. They lit up the northern sky, were assailed by the meteorites, were spat at by the attacked land. After a time, Jack could hear the growling attendant upon the conflict. After a greater time, he noted that the battle was moving in his direction.
When it was almost upon him, Jack smiled and drew his blade.
"Now, soul," he said, "we'll see how my powers hold."
With this, he scratched a pattern on the stone and spoke.
The river of light and thunder parted, flowing about Shadow Guard, passing it on either side, leaving it untouched.
"Very good."
"Thank you."
They now stood enveloped: the ground burned and shook beneath them, the storm raged about them, the sky was barred by shooting stars above.
"Now how will you be able to tell?"
"I'll be able to tell. In fact, a lot can be told already, can it not?" Jack said.
His soul did not reply.
Hearing a footfall, he turned toward the stair.
"It will be Evene," he said. "Storms frighten her, and she always comes to me when they occur."
Evene emerged from the stairwell, saw Jack, rushed to his side. She did not speak. He wrapped his cloak and his arm about her. She stood there shivering.
"Do you not feel any remorse over what you have done to her?"
"Some," said Jack.
"Then why do you not undo it?"
"No."
"Is it that remembering, she would hate you?"
Jack did not reply.
"She cannot hear me. If I phrase questions, you could reply briefly and she would think you are but muttering.-Is it more than hate?"
"Yes."
Both were silent for a time. "Is it that you fear she will go mad if restored?"
"Yes."
"This means you possess more emotions and sentiments than once you did, more than I had even suspected."
Jack did not reply.
The noise and the flashing lights were still all about them, and Evene finally turned her head, faced him and said, "It is terrible up here. Shall we go below, my dear?"
"No. You may, if you wish. But I must remain."
"Then I will stay with you."
Slowly, very slowly, the storm began to pass, died down, was gone. Jack saw that the mountains still burned, saw too, that the ruptured land heaved forth fires of its own. Turning, he noted a whiteness in the air that he finally realized was not smoke, but snow. This was far to the west, however.
He had a sudden feeling that it was not going to work, that the devastation would be too complete. But there was nothing to do now but watch.
"Evene ... ?"
"Yes, Lord?"
"I 'have a thing to say ..."
"What is it, my love?"
"I-Nothing!"
And his soul drew nearer, standing directly behind him now, and the strange feeling rose until he could bear it no longer.
Turning back to her, he said, "I am sorry!"
"For what, my dear?"
"I cannot explain it now, but there may come a time when you recall that I said it."
Puzzled, she said, "I hope that such a time never comes, Jack. I have always been happy with you."
He turned away and his eyes went to the east. He stopped breathing for a moment and he felt his heartbeat everywhere in his body.
Through the dust, the noise, the chill, it followed the trail. The flaring lights, the trembling land, the stalking storm meant nothing to it, for it had never known fear. It glided down hills like a ghost and slithered among rocks like a reptile. It leaped chasms, dodged falling stones, was singed once by lightning. It was a blob of protoplasm on a stick; it was a scarred hulk, and there was no real reason why it should be living and moving about. But perhaps it did not truly live-at least, not as other creatures, even dark-side creatures, lived. It had no name, only an appellation. Its mentality, presumably, was not great. It was a bundle of instincts and reflexes, some of them innate. It was lacking in emotions, save for one. It was incredibly strong, and capable of enduring extreme privation, great amounts of pain and excessive bodily damage. It spoke no language, and all creatures it encountered fled from it.
While the ground shook and the rocks rattled about it, it began its descent of the mountain-
which-once-had-moved, currents of blazing cloud dropping fires along its way.
The landslide did not stop it any more than the tempest could.
It picked its way among the strewn boulders at the mountain's base and for a moment regarded the final ascent.
There led the trail; there must it follow.
High, high-set, walled and well guarded ...
But in addition to its strength it possessed a certain cunning.
...And its one emotion.
"Win or lose, it's working," Jack said; and although Evene did not reply, his soul did.
"You lose. Whether it is the world's gain or loss is another matter. But you lose, Jack."
... And as he gazed into the lightening east, Jack felt that this was true.
For the sky had grown pale of something other than volcanic fires and storms. Within him, he felt his power begin to break. Turning to the west, he saw again how far the black orb had fallen, and the dawn exploded in his mind.
As his power slipped away, the walls of Shadow Guard began to crumble.