Part 11
“It is!” Cordelia said, but frowned. “Yet why do you all have those packs?” “Well...” Marin said, her smile faltered. “I’m afraid we have to leave,” Said Saera, quiet, careful then. “We shan’t be staying any more. I’m sorry, Isaac, but we must Go far away this very night.” “What? Why?” asked Isaac. “Why right now?” “We can’t explain,” said Terry then. “Is it about--” and Isaac’s breath Caught up, and his dark eyes went wide. Saera nodded wordlessly, But then Cordelia said: “No, stay! Please, stay with us, all four of you! You are so young, and have no home. So make your home with both of us! I will look after all of you As if you’re children of my own. You’re all so kind, and so well-mannered, And so courteous and true. Please make your home with us! I beg! Stay with us now, and evermore!” “We...” Marin said, her throat grew tight, Her sapphire eyes were sparkling bright, And on her navy hair a light Shone deeply, richly in the night. For all her power, all her strength All that she could command the sea, The clouds, the rain, the snow, the sleet, Here now she felt such weakness, such Desire to be held so close By someone who would love her much, A thing she had not felt now in So many months, so many years. A thing all four of them had last Felt long ago and far away. “Stay with us, please,” Cordelia begged. “I love you all, and wish that you Would love us back. So stay with us, And let us be a family.” “Yes,” Isaac said, and nodded hard, “Whatever trouble comes our way Let us now all face it as one. Yes, let us be a family!” He spoke, and stood firm in the snow. Clap. Clap. Clap. Clap. Clap. Clap. Clap. The slow applause was slapping now Against the cold and lifeless stone And seemed to bark, to snarl at them; A lonely crack against the gray. The snow had started once again, Some gentle flakes now falling down. “Well done! Well done! Bravissimo! So very rarely have I read A comedy with better end. A wedding, and a family! A marriage, and a happy home! Life is, indeed, a kind of art And it has been done well today. Although, of course, all stories end,” And from the shadows now he came His pitch black robes flowed long and jagged, Gleaming neon red was traced Upon his temples, and his eyes Were glinting in the firelight. They gleamed bright silver, sharp and fierce. “Yes, when the curtain draws at last The players must face harsher light.” “Autolycus?” Isaac asked. “What are you doing here, and why--” “No, no,” said Marin, face grown white, And horror crawling up her spine. “No, no, not here! Not now! Please, no!” “Oh, Marin,” Arius said then, “Is this your scheme? Was this your quest? To pair these lovebirds off at last? A noble effort, and well done. Indeed, I’m glad, am glad to see My good friend Isaac so well-matched.” “Get AWAY from them,” snarled Ardo then, And with a mighty forward step He put himself now in between The lovers and great Arius. And now Cordelia gasped in shock For on both hands his fingers met And Snapped And with a flash of red Bright fire erupted in his palms. “Ardo, you--” Isaac looked from him To Autolycus, who was now So strangely dressed, whose voice had changed, Who seemed to be a brand new man. And then he realized, all too late, Just what was now transpiring here. “Autolycus,” Isaac said. “That never was your real name, was it?” “No,” replied the bald-head man. “My real name, I do not dare share, For already you’ve seen too much. I meant it, Isaac, when I said That I have grown quite fond of you. You are an honest, upright man; Your quality is good and sound. You will make a great husband, And your bride-to-be is fine. She is a lovely, graceful thing, The fairest in the city. So this is what I’ll offer you: Take Cordelia away with you, You both go now. You walk away, And both of you may spend your days In stillness and in peace. Some alterations I will make To what you’ve seen, and what you know; But these are harmless, painless too. I’ll leave Cordelia, leave you, too; Husband and wife, together now, As long as both of you shall live. Just leave these children here with me. Leave them behind, and walk away.” “Why do you want them?” asked Cordelia, Staring still at Ardo’s flames. “I merely come to claim what’s mine,” Said Arius, whose blackened robes Now billowed on the fresh, cold breeze, Which fluttered every person’s hair, Blew Marin’s navy, Saera’s white, Terry’s brown, Ardo’s bright red, And ruffled up Cordelia’s hair, and Isaac’s as they stood. Snow, That everlasting snow, Began now to fall harder down, In fact increased still more as Marin’s heart beat faster still. “Isaac,” said Marin, softly, quietly, “Isaac, do what he says.” “I can’t! I won’t just leave you all.” “You have to,” Terry said, his fist Clenched tight, and now the buildings trembled, Gently, subtly, barely felt. “Yes, Terry is right,” said Arius, Who started circling round, Walking sidelong, facing them, His silver eyes grown bright and keen. “We all must be along quite shortly. So if you please, do not delay.” “And where do you think YOU are going?” Said a woman’s deep, firm voice. Arius turned, and suddenly A sword was stuck up to his neck, Its silver, razor-edgéd tip Aligned against his throat. The massive sword was held at him From up above, from a great arm Belonging to a mighty woman, Tall and broad and strong of arm, With long red hair that billowed now, And keen gray eyes, both sharp and fierce. “Ah, hello, Rafiel,” he said, A smile coming to his face. “Oh, not them too!” hissed Saera then, And at the back, behind them all, She hovered gently off the ground; Cold, swirling winds came round her arms. “Is it just you, my dear?” said Arius, With easy, cheerful tone. Rafiel scowled, and put two fingers Up against her temple then. <Basil, do you have a clear shot?> <I do,> the terse reply came back. “Oh, who could that be?” Arius asked, Still in such a cheerful mood. “Oh, let me guess: the sniper’s here, The one who strikes from worlds away. But I’m not dead—at least, not yet. He’s only here as last resort. You want to kill me with your sword, Don’t you?” And he smiled wider now. “You hate me, oh, you hate me so, That for you it is not enough That I should drop dead from a shot Out of a gun three leagues away. You want to see me die, and see My blood spill hot upon the snow. Well, here I am.” He raised his chin. “Will you not kill me, here and now? I’m all alone, it’s really me; I am no trick, no hologram. See, here!” He ran his finger up Against the sword’s keen silver edge, Against its blade which could cut up An atom into separate parts, That sword which he had made, which used The weak nuclear force. He ran his finger down that blade, And hissed, And on the blade there ran A line of bright red blood. Rafiel gasped, And drew away, Fell back a step, Her greatsword poised, Still poised to strike, but now it shook Unstable, and uneasy there. “How about some more motivation?” Arius said, and his fingers Loudly snapped, once, twice, three times. And suddenly the air was filled With baying calls that loudly sprang Into the cold and snowy wind, The sounds of beasts upon the hunt That knew their prey was close at hand. “Stalkers!” Ardo loudly cried. “Oh, no!” said Marin, terror-filled, And looked now back at both of them, At Isaac and Cordelia Who gazed about with fear and dread And heard the baying of the beasts-- The Stalkers, terrible and swift! The Technocracy’s hunting hounds! They were so close, There was no time For either of them to escape! “Duck down!” cried Terry at them now, And Isaac’s eyes went very wide; For Terry now stood tall and firm, His copper eyes were flinty-set. His voice rang loudly with command, Authority that no one dared To challenge, though he was so young. So Isaac and Cordelia both Ducked down upon their hands and knees. Then Terry’s arm shot straight up, fast, And from the snowy earth there sprang Great slabs of rock, with roaring sound That closed above the lovers’ heads, Enclosing them, to keep them safe. “We have to stay, a little bit!” Said Terry now to his three friends. “We have to fight the Stalkers off, And help the two of them escape.” “That sounds just fine,” Said Marin then, And now her eyes gleamed brilliant blue, A neon blue, a shining blue, With glowing streams of neon blue Running down both her cheeks. Her palms spread wide, And from the air The snow went swirling, Howling down, And ice was blown, Clear, hard, and sharp, Great chunks of sleet were on the wind. Blown by the drift of snow and ice And water on the air, But also Blown by winds that swirled and moaned Great icy winds, Frozen and fierce, That blew as Saera flexed her hands And hovered off the ground. Still Rafiel stood poised at hand, Her massive sword firm in her grip But still it wavered, still it hung At Arius’ throat. “Well, kill me, then!” Said Arius, Who smiled again, and backwards stepped. “The Stalkers will all be here soon. You’re very nearly out of time.” “Just do it!” Ardo shouted out. “Just kill him now, once and for all!” “The Fire Elemental’s right,” Said Arius, who smiled again. “If you would kill me, do it now. Have you the nerve? Or do you merely Poise and bluster, but in truth Do not have courage for the deed?” Rafiel shook, with fear and awe, And great disgust at her own self. <What’s happening?> Asked Basil then. <Are you all right? Should I now shoot?> Rafiel roared, a sharp, clear roar, And sprang, with wings that now unfurled. Like a great work of art she seemed, An angel leaping from on high With sword in hand to run clean through A demon from the depths of Hell. Her sword, her mighty sword swept out, And she at last had tamed her fear-- But then a shadow from on high Came vaulting down, with eyes bright red. On top of Arius it landed, But it did not touch him, no; About him now it stood, and it With long, red claws held up a hand Against which Rafiel’s sword struck And that sprang back, with ringing sparks. “Too late!” said Arius, and laughed. “Your fear and awe have done you in, As I was sure they would.”
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