"Where is your fear? It was so sweet and deli- cious. Your pain? Your agony? Have you forgotten the dark years of your torment already? I remember them as if they were yesterday.
"Your pain, my pleasure. Think of what I can offer you. Don't you recall? The power. Imagine what you could be here with that power now. They would be forced to listen to you. You could make them bend to your will. They would have to do your bidding."
And I was tempted.
It had been so many years since I'd felt anything close to the sensation of the power. Such a unity of self and soul. Body and mind. Maybe only the absinthe had come close. But even that joy was fleeting.
My blood sang to be used. To be taken again.
From Crater Lake I could feel the pull of even greater power. It sang to me.
Take me.
Use me.
"Yes," he said. "Think of it. This world can't even imagine what the power is. They play at magic like a game. They don't understand. But you do, Aina. You've always understood the true nature of the gift. It's in your blood. Take my gift."
Foolish mistake.
I hadn't thought him so clumsy. So obvious. To go over old ground again.
"Oh, dear," I said. "What was it you said? Fool
me once…"
The blood had been running into my palms. It writhed, then began to whirl. It bubbled over my fingertips and began to slide toward the ground. It wanted me to use it.
It craved that.
I craved that.
So I let us have what we wanted.
From over the horizon, the blue glow from Crater Lake became brighter. The power surged into me. And this time, this time, I didn't refuse it.
The spell burst out of me. It sang and jumped from my lips. Insects flew into the sky in a great cloud. The bones of long-dead animals rose up and began to circle about Ysrthgrathe. The insects joined them, and soon the blood danced out of my hands and mingled with the bones and insects.
Surrounding Ysrthgrathe. Encasing him.
"Aina," he said. His voice was a soft whisper, but somehow I could hear it above the buzzing of the wasps. It was inside me. In my mind, like someone lurking at a window. "Aina, don't turn me away. I shan't forgive you this time. This time I will take everything away."
"Go ahead and try," I said. I released the spell then. Let it surge out of me. Out of my soul. Out of the centuries of solitude and loneliness. From the pain of my loss and sadness.
And, oh, it made such a lovely sight.
Ysrthgrathe became darker and darker, until I felt as if the very light was being drawn into him. Then, in the matter of a nanosecond, there was an immense radiance that blinded me.
When I could see again, there was nothing left of the insects, or the bones, or the blood, or of
Ysrthgrathe. In the sky there was the faint azure glow from Crater Lake, dimmer this time.
Then, there was only the faint twinkling of the stars.
"Where will you go now?" asked Caimbeul.
We were standing in the Orly airport. It was some three weeks after I'd faced Ysrthgrathe for the last time.
I had found Caimbeul unconscious from the blow Ysrthgrathe had given him. I'd healed him, and then we'd gone looking for the authorities to notify them about the cab driver's death. The tale Caimbeul had spun was impressive, even by his usual standards.
We finally got out of Tir Taimgire the next day.
I contacted Dunkelzahn and told him about what had happened. In dragon-like fashion, he merely nodded and accepted what I said. If he had any other opinions, he kept them to himself. Though he did in- vite me to stay and visit.
Caimbeul and I decided to go to the Riviera. Per- haps it was the foolishness of age, but we both thought there might still be something between us.
By the time we parted at Orly, we knew that what- ever had been there was best left in the past.
"Where will you go now?" he asked again.
"I think I shall travel for a bit," I said. "No place too interesting. I think I've had enough interesting things in my life for a while. I know that one day the Enemy will come again, but now that Ysrthgrathe is gone, I feel… safer.
"Maybe they were right. Maybe it was my prob- lem. Perhaps I've been wrong."
Caimbeul shrugged. He'd become very Gaelic during our visit.
"I've always thought your instincts were pretty good," he said. He reached out and pulled me to him. The kiss he gave me was long, and hot, and bittersweet.
It was some six months later that I made it back to Arran.
It was spring.
The land had turned green again. The wind blew from the south, bringing the delicate odor of grass, peat, and heather to me.
I opened the house up, flinging wide the windows to drive out the inevitable mustiness. Caimbeul had stayed here at some point while I was gone. I saw a few things were out of place. How like him, I thought.
I tapped the print bar on my telecom, and material began 1,0 spew out.
Since I'd put a hold on the dailies and the maga- zines, I wondered what this glut could be.
Frowning, I picked up the first sheet. It was an ar- ticle about Aztechnology. There were numerous articles about Aztechnology. They came from main- line papers as well as obscure, paranoid, end-of- the-world publications. Shaking my head, I read another and another and another.
There were articles about many unrelated events. They were scattered across the globe, and these arti- cles were in Chinese, French, German, Swahili, Jap- anese, and many other languages.
Mostly, they were about random occurrences of mania. A woman goes crazy and kills her children. There is no explanation and she doesn't remember the event even happening. Later, she takes her own life, scrawling images of obscene monsters in her own blood on the prison walls.
A shaman loses control of a spell. Ten people are killed, including the shaman. A witness says it looked as if the shaman had changed into something else the moment before the spell went out of control.
There were more.
Each told a similar tale.
I read them all, letting each slip to the floor until I stood there empty-handed. But there was still one more. I pulled it out. A letter from Dunkelzahn.
Aina,
In light of our last conversation, I thought these might be of interest to you. By the way, I've been keeping track of these things, and on the night you told me about, there was a spike at Crater Lake.
Dunkelzahn
I stayed there, staring off into space for a long time. Then suddenly I couldn't bear to stay inside any longer.
The sun was going down as I left the house. There was a bit of a nip in the air. Winter had not yet com- pletely let go. But I didn't feel the cold.
I felt numb. As though encased in amber. Fossil- ized.
Oh, what a fool I'd been. Thinking to protect them all from the Enemy. To warn them. What ego. What hubris.
For I knew now that I had done the very thing I'd warned them against.
I had used the power wantonly. Wastefully. And in so doing I'd made it easier for the Enemy to come across.
I realized now that Ysrthgrathe had sacrificed himself. His defeat was too easy. He'd played me. Played my emotions, manipulated me all along until I couldn't resist. It was his revenge. For he knew that nothing would bring me greater pain than to live with the knowledge that I'd had the means to stop them, and had let anger and fear and foolishness rule me instead.
My chest felt tight. There was nothing for me to do now but prepare. Prepare for that day which was as inevitable as death.
I stared up at the sky. The sun had set, yet a pale radiance still lingered. Then it began to rain. Black drops coming from a clear twilight sky.
I'stayed there for a long time, letting the rain wash over me.