picking myself up, the face of the girl forms in the floor in front of me. Her expression is the same as Loch’s. I gaze at her in horror. This is what Loch will be like for all eternity, or at least until his body rots. Blank, lifeless, ever still, ever serene, ever —
The girl’s eyes snap open. Her lips part. She shouts at me, words I can’t understand.
I scream and propel myself backwards. Scream again. Halfway through, it turns into a howl. With an effort, I force the howl down, then fix my eyes on the face in the floor. “No,” I snarl, pressing my hands hard against the sides of my head.
“NO!”
I roar.
Something shoots out of me. A force I haven’t felt in all its power since I fought Lord Loss and his familiars in
Slawter.
I shut my eyes, feeling energy zap out of me. The scream rises and rises. I feel as if I’m floating above the ground. I think that if I opened my eyes I’d find that I
am
floating. I hold the scream, the cords in my throat feeling like they’re going to burst, until. . .
A sound like cannon fire. Then sudden silence. The scream dies away. My head flops. I collapse. My hands come away from my head, to protect my face from the fall.
When I sit up, I’m breathing hard and crying. But the whispering has stopped. I glance at the spot in the floor. The girl’s face has disappeared. And I don’t feel sick anymore — only small, lonely, and scared.
Standing, I shine the flashlight around, trying to pin down the source of the cannon fire. It only takes a few seconds to find it — a large crack in one of the walls, close to the waterfall, that wasn’t there before. Did I divide the rock with my magical scream, or is the crack coincidence, the result of air flowing into the cave or a change of temperature? I don’t know. At this particular moment, I don’t really care.
I stagger over to Loch and slump beside his lifeless form. Impossible to believe he’ll never move again, or laugh, or wrestle. You think your friends are never going to die, that all the people you know and care for will be with you forever. Then the world makes an idiot of you, so quickly, so simply, that you wonder whether any of your family or friends will survive another day intact.
I want to bring him back. I want to shake him, kick him, pump magic into him, make him breathe, make him live. It should be easy, like starting a stalled car or a crashed PC. There should be rules, instructions, things you can do. But there aren’t. When it comes to humans, death’s death, that’s that, and you’re a fool if you think any different.
Crying, I lean over Loch to hug his empty shell and tell him how unfair this is, how good a friend he was, how he shouldn’t be dead, how much I want him to live, how scared I am. And it’s only when I grab his shoulders and haul him up, pulling his head in towards my chest, that I realize — his head, the coat, and the area around his shoulders. . . they’re all dry.
At first, I’m so distraught I don’t understand why that should be so strange, why it strikes me as being out of place. I’m about to dismiss it, to banish it from my thoughts, when the significance hits and I do a confused, incredulous double take. Then, because I still can’t make sense of it, I cry the question out loud, in case giving it voice will help me find an answer.
“Where the hell has all the blood gone?”
The Promise
D ERVISH regards the cave with something close to religious awe when he enters. For a long minute he doesn’t even glance at where I’m hunched over Loch. His attention is fixed on the walls, the roof, the formations, the waterfall. Then Bill-E nudges him softly and mumbles, “Over there.”
Dervish snaps to his senses and advances. “Billy told me what happened,” he says, still several yards away. “How is he?”
“Fine —” I say, and Dervish smiles “— for a dead man.” The smile vanishes. He slows. Behind him, Bill-E covers his mouth with his hands, stifling
The girl’s eyes snap open. Her lips part. She shouts at me, words I can’t understand.
I scream and propel myself backwards. Scream again. Halfway through, it turns into a howl. With an effort, I force the howl down, then fix my eyes on the face in the floor. “No,” I snarl, pressing my hands hard against the sides of my head.
“NO!”
I roar.
Something shoots out of me. A force I haven’t felt in all its power since I fought Lord Loss and his familiars in
Slawter.
I shut my eyes, feeling energy zap out of me. The scream rises and rises. I feel as if I’m floating above the ground. I think that if I opened my eyes I’d find that I
am
floating. I hold the scream, the cords in my throat feeling like they’re going to burst, until. . .
A sound like cannon fire. Then sudden silence. The scream dies away. My head flops. I collapse. My hands come away from my head, to protect my face from the fall.
When I sit up, I’m breathing hard and crying. But the whispering has stopped. I glance at the spot in the floor. The girl’s face has disappeared. And I don’t feel sick anymore — only small, lonely, and scared.
Standing, I shine the flashlight around, trying to pin down the source of the cannon fire. It only takes a few seconds to find it — a large crack in one of the walls, close to the waterfall, that wasn’t there before. Did I divide the rock with my magical scream, or is the crack coincidence, the result of air flowing into the cave or a change of temperature? I don’t know. At this particular moment, I don’t really care.
I stagger over to Loch and slump beside his lifeless form. Impossible to believe he’ll never move again, or laugh, or wrestle. You think your friends are never going to die, that all the people you know and care for will be with you forever. Then the world makes an idiot of you, so quickly, so simply, that you wonder whether any of your family or friends will survive another day intact.
I want to bring him back. I want to shake him, kick him, pump magic into him, make him breathe, make him live. It should be easy, like starting a stalled car or a crashed PC. There should be rules, instructions, things you can do. But there aren’t. When it comes to humans, death’s death, that’s that, and you’re a fool if you think any different.
Crying, I lean over Loch to hug his empty shell and tell him how unfair this is, how good a friend he was, how he shouldn’t be dead, how much I want him to live, how scared I am. And it’s only when I grab his shoulders and haul him up, pulling his head in towards my chest, that I realize — his head, the coat, and the area around his shoulders. . . they’re all dry.
At first, I’m so distraught I don’t understand why that should be so strange, why it strikes me as being out of place. I’m about to dismiss it, to banish it from my thoughts, when the significance hits and I do a confused, incredulous double take. Then, because I still can’t make sense of it, I cry the question out loud, in case giving it voice will help me find an answer.
“Where the hell has all the blood gone?”
The Promise
D ERVISH regards the cave with something close to religious awe when he enters. For a long minute he doesn’t even glance at where I’m hunched over Loch. His attention is fixed on the walls, the roof, the formations, the waterfall. Then Bill-E nudges him softly and mumbles, “Over there.”
Dervish snaps to his senses and advances. “Billy told me what happened,” he says, still several yards away. “How is he?”
“Fine —” I say, and Dervish smiles “— for a dead man.” The smile vanishes. He slows. Behind him, Bill-E covers his mouth with his hands, stifling
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