And it gazed up at Ponch.
Above them all, the darkness grew and took shape as the Pullulus pressed inward. All around them, it beat against the orbit of the Moon as if against a seawall, and though for the moment it flowed no farther, Kit could feel that, at any moment, it might. Still, though, that pierced-through lane of normal space and starlight above them persisted … and suddenly Kit realized what he was seeing. The memory of voices back in the cavern on Rashah descended on him, so that he might almost have been lying in the pup tent again; and a voice said, No power more will come to you, and no new life, until you once more see before you the path you refused, and set out to walk it alone.
This is my place, Ponch said to the darkness. Go away!
Make me, the Darkness said.
I will, Ponch said. We said we would take care of them.
You can’t, said the being that was now wearing the Pullulus, in the shape of something huge and wolfish, with fangs as dark and deadly as its eyes. And they can’t save themselves, or you. You all get to die today.
I have driven our Enemy out of time for just a little while, Memeki had said.
Kit swallowed. I guess our time just ran out.
You’re just one more dog, the Darkness said. You have no power against me, and your threats mean nothing.
Ponch’s gigantic shape merely stood there, growling softly in his throat.
I will always be here, no matter what you do, the Darkness said. I will come for every one of your kind, sooner or later. That’s the way this universe is.
I think, Ponch said, that I have had enough of you telling me how things will be.
If you had, you’d be doing something about it. But you can’t. I own this place, whatever you may think. And as I will come for all your people in time … I will come for all of his kind as well. And for him!
The growling stopped.
You came for Ronan, Ponch said very softly. You came for Memeki. You came for Roshaun. But if you think you’re coming for him today, think again. Today I choose a new way to go—and it goes through you!
And Ponch threw himself at the throat of the Darkness beyond the Moon.
It was a “dogfight” in the same way that the meteor that killed the dinosaurs was an “impact.” The stars seemed to shake and the Moon rumbled and quaked with the tumult and the furor of it, and there was no telling how long it went on. The terrible growls and snarls of the Darkness were matched in their awfulness, and in a strange kind of splendor, by the righteous rage of the giant doglike shape with the starlight caught in its coat. Stunned, staggered, many of the watching wizards fell to their knees as the great battle slowly began to turn; others just stood gazing outward into that turbulent night, trying to assimilate what they were seeing. Kit, though, knew; for he’d heard the story beforehand. He watched as what had been foretold came to pass—the Hound taking His old enemy by the throat and throwing him down, yelping, against the floor of heaven.
The Wolf that ate the Moon slowly stood up from that downfall, still growling. There, in the darkness with which it had surrounded itself, It slunk a few steps away, head down, tail between Its legs, growling more softly … and then tried to dodge around and do Its Enemy one final harm. All at once, the Pullulus flowed past the Moon, heading for the Earth and past it, toward the Sun, trying to envelop them both—
The Hound opened His jaws and leaped at His enemy one last time.
The flare of power that had burst up from the group wizardry before was as nothing to this. All space went white as lightning in the flash of the terrible teeth. Kit closed his eyes and still could see nothing but that intolerable whiteness. In it, everything vanished. There was nothing to be felt or experienced but pure power and the eternity in which it was happening. In the face of that irresistible brilliance, the Pullulus burned away like so much ash.
In the white timelessness, Kit stood for some while, as blind as any other wizard on the Moon. But presently he was able to see something dark; and a wagging shape came wandering along to him, and put its head under his hand.
“I have to go,” Ponch said. “But I wanted to thank you first!”
Kit got down beside his dog. “Thank me? For what?”
“You showed me what to do,” Ponch said. “Now dogs have a new story, and a new way to be… thanks to you.”
Kit shook his head, burying his face briefly against the glossy black of Ponch’s coat. “I’m going to miss you,” he said. “You’re not coming back, are you?”
“Not like this,” Ponch said. “I have another job now, and I have to get started. My people have been waiting for me for a long, long time. But I won’t ever really go away.” He looked up at Kit, and his eyes were full of starlight now. “And dogs won’t really seem to change that much. Some old ways of being are good, while we work out what the new ones are.”
Kit put his arms around Ponch and held him for a long time. He had no idea how long they remained like that, or when the light began to fade. But gradually it paled, like dawn in reverse, and Kit found himself kneeling in moondust. He looked up and saw nothing above him but starry night, untroubled by any darkness except the one that properly lives between the stars.
Nita was crouching down by him, looking closely at Kit. “You all right?” she said.
Kit let out a long breath and looked around him. What he had been holding was gone. “Yeah,” he said. “I think so.”
Nita sighed, too, as she stood, looking over to where Carmela was standing with one arm around Dairine. “And as for you!” she said to the Pig, which was standing on the other side of Kit.
“Tell me you’re not going to ask me that question!” said the Pig.
“I was going to ask you,” Nita said, “whether all that was what I thought it was.”
“If you thought that dogs now finally have their own version of the One,” said the Transcendent Pig, “then the answer is yes.”
Kit was shaking his head. “I can’t believe it,” he whispered. “Are you trying to tell me that my dog—my dog was—”
“Was? No. Is? Yes, it’s the ‘spell-it-backward’ joke again,” the Pig said, with some resignation. “The One just loves those old jokes. The older, the better.” It raised its bristly eyebrows. “Making a big BANG! sound and running off to hide behind the nearest chunk of physical existence, like some kid ringing the doorbell at Halloween. And the puns. Don’t get It started on the puns… you’ll be there forever.” It smiled. “Literally. But what did you expect? Your dog started making universes out of nothing. This wasn’t a slight tip-off?”
“And not just making them,” Nita said. “Saving them.”
“Or saving one person,” Kit said.
“It’s the same thing, I’m told,” said the Pig; and it vanished.
Kit looked around at the thousands of astonished and exhausted wizards. Then he looked along the arc of the now-dimming spell diagram, and saw Dairine standing there, holding in her hands a collar with a stone that had gone as clear as water, and now was shading gently toward gold; and beyond her, off in the background, Ronan’s still form. “This is going to take a while to sort out,” he said, and wiped his eyes. “Let’s go home.”
15: Armistice