He’s with me, I says. He won’t harm none. I whistle fer him to come an he runs beside Hermes.
When we reach the road, we turn east.
East to the sunrise. East to Weepin Water. East to the bunker in the hill. An DeMalo’s magnificent dawn vision.
His secret. His half truth. His outright lie.
I start to hear the faint throb of drumbeats. Many drums bein played together. The faint glow of torchlight colours the sky. As we git closer, the drums grow louder. Their fast, earthy beat urges us on. The hubble of voices warms the air.
The wind’s brought great rollin banks of grey cloud. They clash an part, tumble an break overhead.
Me an my Tonton escort stop on the low ridge that overlooks the torchlit meadow. The sweetgrass meadow with the bunker hill in the middle. It’s thronged with hunnerds of people. Stewards of the Earth, scrubbed an polished. There’s plenty of Tonton about. Fer them, too, it’s a day of celebration. At the foot of the hill sit the children from Edenhome. Kept apart from the rest by a line of Tonton. Low junktents ring the meadow. Through their smokeholes, the smell of food billows from cookfires. It seems that a feast will follow.
I see what’s kept DeMalo so busy. He’s completely transformed the hill. On top of it stands the white vision room. He’s had the walls an floor an ceilin moved, piece by piece, then put back together atop the hill. The front of it stands open to the meadow so’s everybody can see inside. Jack did say it was made in sections. Only DeMalo could do such a thing. I should be amazed, but I ain’t. I know his singularity of purpose.
Extraordinary. Jest like he said. All here will witness his miraculous vision. Most of ’em will of seen it once before. In a small group, inside the bunker, at the start of their new life in New Eden. But today they’ll witness it together. At the dawn of this marriage day of great joy.
The story will be told fer generations to come.
Everybody’s seen us. They’ve all seen me. They fall silent as I follow the front four Tonton. The back four bring up the rear. The drums beat our way down the ridge. The crowd falls back, clears a path fer us to the hill.
In this broody dawn of torchlight an drums, crow on my shoulder, wolfdog at my side, people ain’t certain if I’m real or not. The Angel of Death. Slayer of kings. She who rides the night with starfallen souls. Superstitious fools, DeMalo called ’em.
A few brave ones dare to dart forwards. To touch her dress. Her boots. The murmur spreads. She’s real. She’s alive. Captured. Conquered by the Pathfinder. Jest like them.
The drums. The spectacle. The crowd. The tang of flesh, sharp with excitement. I feel the hot clench of red start to burn in my belly.
It’s the Cage at Hopetown as I entered to fight. It’s the gauntlet, that snakeroad of drug-crazy hands, eager to pull me apart. It’s Freedom Fields on that midsummer night, with Lugh staked out to burn. It’s the beat beat of fear, the beat of sticks on stones as I came to the Snake River camp.
I look fer any familiar face. Cassie, even Vain Ed the miller. But none do I see. It’s a blur of bodies an torchlight.
DeMalo meets me near the foot of the hill. He’s dressed all in white. Of course. Britches, shirt an cloak. His black hair gleams. His skin’s golden in the torchlight. His face tightens when he sees what I’ve done, what I’m wearin. The rip in the magnificent marriage gown. My armour, my boots, Lugh’s necklace.
My beautiful bride, he says. His smile don’t reach his eyes. You brought your own entourage, I see, he says. I set Nero to fly. I slide down from Hermes. The wolfdog stays here, he says.
A flick of his hand brings a Tonton with a cord. I slip it around Tracker’s neck. Go, I tell him an he’s led away.
Then DeMalo holds out his hand to me. High. With ceremony. I lay my hand in his. He grips it painfully. He turns us so we face the crowd. As the drummers drum an the dawn creeps closer, the Pathfinder an his warrior bride move around the hill slowly. So’s all can look up an admire them.
It wouldn’t be obvious to nobody else. It is to me. DeMalo’s ill at ease. The first time I ever seen him so. You wouldn’t know from the calm of his face. But his eyes keep goin to the sky. To the clouds that tumble an shadow. Even as I wonder why, the answer comes to me. He needs the clear light of dawn fer his miracle. Dawnlight to trigger the Wrecker tech of the white walls. I know he won’t of left this to chance. He will of tested it. Probly more than once. But the master of control ain’t got no control over Mother Earth. When it comes down to it, he’s at her mercy like the rest of us.
DeMalo never loses. He always has a safety net. But not today. The biggest day of all. His whole body’s tense. I feel it through his hand.
Disarm yer opponent if possible.
I look at him. Our eyes meet. I squeeze his hand. Fergive me, I says. The dress is beautiful. I ain’t bin myself the past while.
He nods, distracted. We’ll have our handfasting after the visions, he says.
It’s nearly dawn. The clouds have finally started to move, swept westwards by the wind. The sky behind looks clear.
It’s almost time, he says. As he leads me up the hill, Stewards an Tonton begin to fill its slopes. They want to be close to the show.
Know yer battlefield. Locate yer allies.
Nero’s perched on top of the vision room. My belly tight with nerves, I scan the crowd once more. Then I see them. Down to my right. Off to one side. Tommo, Peg an Webb. They’re guarded by Tonton. Roped at the wrists.
I thought they was in prison till we married, I says.
DeMalo don’t even glance their way. I want them to see this, he says. So they’re left in no doubt whose side you’re on.
By now he’s properly on edge. His eyes fixed to the sky, as the clouds move away. Slowly. Slowly.
You’ll stand at my side, he tells me. We’ve reached the top of the hill. As our hands part, his silver bracelet catches my eye. He goes to git into position in the centre of the white room.
I pause beside a Tonton. I point to Tommo. That prisoner, I says. The boy. The Pathfinder wants him here, right now.
The Tonton pelts off down the hill, shovin his way through the gathered crowd. I wait till I see him seize Tommo an start rushin him up the hill.
I walk into the white room an stand near DeMalo. He’s in the centre, directly beneath the pinhole in the ceilin. He holds the great chunk of clear crystal rock, ready to raise it fer the light to latch on. It ain’t necessary, the walls do the work. But it looks good. Adds to the mystery.
At last it’s a cloudless sky. The marriage-day dawn is on the break. The drumbeats stop. The torches go out. A hush falls. Heavy with anticipation.
Tommo arrives at the top of the hill. Him an the Tonton outta breath from their haste.
The dawnlight’s about to hit the pinhole.
I speak loudly to DeMalo. I have a marriage gift fer you, I says. A bracelet to match the one you wear.
As he glances at me, distracted, I’m givin the nod to the Tonton. He thrusts Tommo forwards into my arms. Tommo looks at me, bewildered. Fergive me, I says.
I grab his roped wrists. I raise them high. I show DeMalo the bracelet. The identical twin of the one he always wears. He stares at it. He looks at Tommo. His face turns ashy pale. Tommo stares at him in shock. At his father, so long believed dead. Father an son. Their likeness is strong. Seen here together, their kinship cain’t be denied.
An the vision has come to the smooth white walls. The bloom of dawn colours. The soft song of birds. The low sweetness of music.
A murmur of unease runs through the crowd. They all know how the visions come to life. The Pathfinder raises his crystal rock to receive them. The visions are playin. But the rock ain’t raised. The Pathfinder’s starin at this boy. Clutchin the rock to his chest. How is it possible? What’s goin on?
Tommo frees hisself from my grip. He takes a step towards DeMalo. Confusion an wonder war on his face.
You said you’d come back, he says. I waited fer you, Pa. I waited an wai
ted. All these years I thought you was dead.
His words ring out among the smooth white walls. Everyone in earshot hears them. Tommo’s voice is rough an hoarse. The unmistakeable voice of a deaf boy.
It’s the Pathfinder’s son! His child! a man calls from somewhere on the hill nearby.
I nearly cry out his name. The surge of relief is so great. I stop myself jest in time. It’s Jack. He’s here. He came after all.
Word spreads. It spreads quickly. Down the hill. Through the meadow. Son? The boy’s deaf. Listen to him speak. It’s his son. The Pathfinder’s son is deaf.
A woman shouts out, The Tonton killed my sister becuz she couldn’t hear!
At the same time, there’s a risin buzz about the visions. The walls play without DeMalo. The grasslands, lush an green. The eagle. The mountains. The herds of beasts roamin the plains.
The visions are fake! It’s Wrecker tech! shouts Jack. He ain’t no Pathfinder. He’s a trickster. A liar.
Nero starts to screech. The crowd erupts to confusion an anger. Some of ’em surge towards us. The Tonton run to form a line. They push back aginst the bodies with their firesticks.
DeMalo ain’t moved. He’s frozen. Blank-faced. Clutchin his chunk of crystal rock.
Speak to me, Pa. What happened? says Tommo. Why didn’t you come back? Look fer me?
Answer yer son, I says. Answer these people. Tell us. We all wanna know.
His face changes. From nuthin to rage. In the split of a second. Wild, black rage. He drops the rock, pulls a knife an lunges at Tommo.
I dive at Tommo too. Knock him to the ground. DeMalo’s knife slashes my arm. Tommo’s back on his feet. DeMalo goes fer him agin.
I seize the crystal rock.
I raise it high.
I smash DeMalo in the head.
One heavy blow to the back of his skull. With the swing of my full weight behind it.
He goes down.
Like a stone.
He don’t move.
I’m on my knees beside him. Feelin fer life. My fingers wet with his blood. His head’s crushed. A mess of hair, blood an bone. Tommo’s with me. He helps to turn him over.
Seth, I says.
He’s dead.
Words need sayin. So I do.
After a moment, I close his eyes. An behold, this day I go the way of all the earth.
There’s silence. From the crowd. From the Tonton. The visions play on. The music plays on. Nero drifts quietly above.
I look at Tommo. I’m so sorry. I didn’t plan that, I says.
He stares down at the father who denied him. He would of killed me, he says. He was ashamed of me. That’s why he left.
I touch Tommo’s face. He had wrong ideas, I says.
Yer arm’s bleedin, he says.
Only now do I remember the knife caught me. The point ripped my sleeve. Sliced my skin, not deep. I’m fine, I says. It ain’t nuthin.
The Tonton ain’t known what to do all this time. Now a couple of ’em move towards us, their guns pointed. They falter. They stop. They turn away.
Becuz there’s somethin happenin. In the meadow below, Stewards cry out. They’re startin to run towards the ridge. Me an Tommo stand slowly. I cain’t believe my eyes.
A tide of people flow down from the ridge. Slaves in their collars. The Snake River folk who went back to the farms. I see Creed an Ash an Slim. There’s Molly an Auriel with the rest of ’em from Nass Camp. Women from the babyhouses with infants in their arms. Many others, Stewards, carry babies as well. People call out as they spot friends an family. They run. They embrace. There’s tears an laughter.
It’s what we wanted. It’s what’s right. I’m glad fer them all. I only wish I could feel it in my heart.
A Tonton grabs me. Shoves a gun in my back. Another Tonton’s grabbed Tommo.
What’s the plan? I says.
Wait fer orders, says my guard.
So we stand there, the four of us, an watch the reunions. Watch as the children from Edenhome run free, lookin fer their brothers, sisters, mothers, fathers, anyone at all they know. I cain’t miss Nell’s copper hair. She’s found Webb. Him an Peg are free of their bonds. Deserted by their Tonton guards. An Tracker’s bin set free too. Peg’s got hold of him. She raises her hand when she sees me lookin their way.
When did you know? says Tommo.
I turn my head to find him lookin at me. Not till Edenhome, I says. When I seen yer bracelet. I cain’t believe I didn’t realize before. You are so like him.
If it was Seth’s child I lost, it would have bin brother or sister to Tommo. What a very strange thought that is.
His eyes shift away, then back to me. You called him Seth, he says.
Keep quiet, says my guard.
We’ll talk later, I says.
A few commanders shout orders, but the Tonton’re fallin apart. Some throw down their guns an walk away. Some find theirselfs bein disarmed by Creed an Ash, Vain Ed an other Stewards. They don’t put up no resistance.
Tommo’s guard spots a Tonton commander walkin up the hill in our direction. Sir! he shouts. Prisoners here, sir. Awaitin orders.
The Tonton commander is Jack.
As he comes towards us, he says, Release all prisoners an stand down.
Stand down, sir? says my guard.
That’s the order, he says. We’re disbanded. This is over. No more Tonton. As Jack speaks, he throws off his black cloak. Unbuckles his weapons belt. If yer amenable to society, he says, there might be a place fer you here in New Eden. There’s a man down there’ll tell you what comes next, what you hafta do. His name’s Salmo Slim. You cain’t miss him.
They hesitate, jest fer a moment. Then they’re gone without further ado.
Tommo’s already got Jack by the hand. I might of known you wouldn’t stay dead fer long, he says. Then, with a glance at the two of us, he heads down the hill.
He didn’t ask about Emmi or Lugh. He must be able to see it in me.
An we’re alone. Me an Jack. With Seth lyin a few foot away. We don’t look at him. We move outta the room an a few steps down the slope. The noise of celebration fills the mornin air. The late autumn sun shines bright. There ain’t a cloud in the blue blue sky.
We stand a little bit apart.
The day’s turned out fine after all, says Jack.
I’m sure I got you to thank fer all this, I says. I didn’t know what I was gonna do. Thank you.
You set it all goin, he says. Once it got started, it was amazin how quick it went. Like a runaway horse. I had to hold it back some. We needed the … what did you call it? The big gawdamn rumble. You gave us that, no question. Talk about wingin it, though. That was hairy, even by my standards. But you did it. I didn’t … really believe it would work. I would never of thought of it. Congratulations.
I nod at the scene below us. It’s them you need to congratulate, I says.
We’re talkin as if we’re two strangers.
He turns to look at the walls of the vision room behind us. Silent now. Jest white walls. Nuthin more.
You was in this room with him, he says. In the bunker. Before you an me went together. That’s how you knew about the light. His eyes go to DeMalo. Then to me. You owe me the truth, he says.
It was when I believed you’d turned aginst us, I says. You was at Darktrees. You sent me back the heartstone. I didn’t unnerstand why, you know that. An then you took Emmi an Lugh warn’t there an—I was in a bad way. I fell, Jack. I didn’t wanna be caught, but he caught me. He was the only one there. He saved my life an—
I cain’t look at him.
Jack’s silent. You did ask how I’d feel if you’d bin with somebody else, he says. I had no idea you meant him.
It got very … complicated, I says.
I can only imagine, he says.
I’m jest about to say somethin. I dunno what. Maybe
I never loved him, I love you, always you, can you ever fergive me fer my lies an deceit
but a horde of peopl
e come rushin up the hill. Ash an Creed an Slim an Molly. An Tommo agin. An Cassie. There’s Webb an Ruth an their coppernob Nell. An Vain Ed the miller an JB, the very last Treedog. I’m grabbed by them an swept away down the hill in a wave of celebration an laughter. Come on, Jack! cries Molly. Come with us!
I look back but he’s already gone.
NEW EDEN
IT FELL APART SO QUICKLY. SO COMPLETELY. DEMALO’S New Eden. I was right. He did build it on fault lines. He was right. The story will be told fer generations to come. It jest won’t be the story he intended.
New Eden it will remain in name. But in spirit an body, it’s already startin to be somethin else. Somethin good an right an hopeful.
There’s much mournin to be done. Much healin that’s needed. Much atonement to be made fer grave wrongs. Much fergiveness to be granted from some bigger place within us. Fer many, it’s like bein wrenched from a dreamworld where they’ve long bin held captive. Such was the power of one man. His vision, his passion, his belief, his will.
The people of this New Eden will need courage an faith. They must be strong enough never to be followers agin. Healin the earth an all who share her is the work of many lives an it will take many lifetimes. DeMalo said that. He was right.
At the centre of New Eden will be a council of nine wise women. The first council they choose includes Mercy, Auriel, Molly an Ash. They’ve chosen well. They try to choose me, but I won’t be chosen. My warrior’s part is played out. The strength of New Eden, their future lies with them, the people. An them alone.
There’s a few here can read, Tommo among them. They’re startin to discover the secrets of the seedstore. That gift from the past to the future, which is now. I’m hopeful fer New Eden. Fer the earth an the sky. The water an the trees. The beasts an the people.
If I’m hopeful fer myself, I hope fer no more than this. That beyond the horizon, somewhere, someday, I can live with myself an what I’ve done. I cain’t ask fergiveness fer the highest of my sins. Them I’d beg it of are dead.
So I ain’t fer this land no more. I’m done here. I hafta move on. An keep movin.
I stand with Mercy as she burns her slave rags. A great pyre is built. All the slaves’ clothes are placed upon it an we all bear witness to the fire. Black smoke billows upwards an fades to the blue.