Still, nobody was there right now, which was vital, because Marc and Icelus had just warped there from Oniron.
Marc thudded to the ground. Dust flew everywhere and stung his eyes. Not only that, he had forgotten that he had to adjust to the air, so on top of the new oxygen he was also batting away clumps of dirt, hacking and coughing and crying.
Icelus kept quiet while she waited for Marc to adjust, a process that included getting up, tripping, and dropping the book he had been carrying.
She walked over and looked at the book. Scary Monster in the Night, by Reid Marshall. Her ears perked up at the image of the shadow dog on the cover. “Marc,” she asked, “What is this?”
“Ackh!” Marc spat out a huge glob on to the floor and roughly wiped the drool and phlegm away.
“That's an odd name,” she said flatly.
“Please,” he said, “give me a minute.”
He sat down. Drew in a few deep breaths. Coughed some more. Looked at her.
“Where were you?!” he shouted.
“I was behind you the whole time.”
“Why didn't you say anything? I was lost!”
“Because I'm an exile and that would have endangered you,” said Icelus. “I couldn't let myself be seen. I'm sorry.”
“Well,” Marc said, “they saw you now.”
“They did. Everybody's going to be on the lookout for me.”
“So...” Marc hesitated. “What now?”
“We will have to be more careful in the future,” she said calmly.
“No,” he said.
“No?”
“No, I'm... just done. Ugh.” Marc got up. “I'll find a way home. You go deal with your own problems.”
“Marc, I still need you to get to and from there,” Icelus said, distressed.
“Well, then, I guess you're out of luck! I'll find something to tell my grandma. I'll say I smashed you and threw you in the dump and that's why you're gone. Just leave me alone.” Marc turned and began to walk away.
He heard footsteps behind him. Out of instinct, his heart rate shot up and he turned around to see a frightening sight – more frightening for him than for anybody else, probably. Icelus was livid.
“This is too important!” she shouted. “You can't go back on this now! How dare you?!”
For a minute Marc was almost cowed. He was about to shrink back. To do whatever she said once more, out of fear.
But how often had he done that in just two days? He'd let her snatch him off to another world, get attacked by nightmares, hitch a ride with a group of strangers. It had to stop.
“Too bad!” he yelled back. “Didn't you say I could walk away if I wanted? Back when you first tried to rope me in to all this? Well, I'm pulling out now! Before it's too late!”
He turned and stormed off to the door. It was locked shut.
“AARGH!” Marc yelled and kicked the door. He kicked it again. And again.
Icelus looked at this scene forlornly. Her ears drooped. He was right, she knew. This was her burden and she couldn't demand anything of him.
With the enraged sound of kicking still in her ears, she turned around and sighed.
That's when she noticed something in the corner of her eye.
“Marc,” she said.
He didn't answer, just kept kicking the door.
“Marc!”
“WHAT?!”
“Can you read this?”
He stopped kicking. “Read what?!”
“This book you were carrying!”
Silence. One, two, three seconds. He came over. “This book?” he pointed.
“Yes,” she said.
Marc picked it up and flipped through it. “Of course. It's a children's book. Why do you want to read it?”
“The cover, Marc. You see the shadow dog on the cover?”
“Yeah.”
“Look at its flank. Look at that design.”
Marc peered at the dog's back haunch. He hadn't noticed it before, but she was right – there was a little mark on it.
“Do you recognize it?” he asked.
“It's mine,” Icelus said. “My sigil.”
“Your sigil?”
“It's...” she paused to consider. “It's like a shorthand for myself. Anything with that sigil on it affects me.”
“Why is it here on this book? Is it a coincidence?”
“It can't be,” she said. “The sigil is on a dog. I'm a dog... or a dog-shaped deity, at least. There's no way this is a coincidence. This book... Marc, I need you to read it for me.”
“You can't read it?” asked Marc.
“No,” she huffed. “I don't know your language.”
“What are you going to do once you know what this is about?” he said.
“That depends on what's in it. Please, Marc,” she said. “This is the last thing I will ask you to do for me.”
Marc sighed. “Fine,” he said, “but that's it.” He flipped it open.
The first page was a picture of a tall man with a flute in his hand. He was looking out of the book with a friendly smile at the viewer – at “us.”
Hello, friend! it said below. Could I ask for your help?
Next page. The man was pointing across a bridge, showing it to us.
My friend is over there and he needs me! But there's a scary monster under the bridge and I need you to help me defeat it! Can you be brave?
The next page had no words. The man walked down the bridge.
On the page after that, a monstrous-looking dog appeared on the bridge, its fangs bared at the man.
Oh no!
The monster snarled.
My name is Icelus. You can't pass here, and you can't help your friend!
The man looked back at us.
I need your help. Can you help me?
Icelus cackled and showed its flank.
You can't do anything, not while I have this mark that gives me powers!
The man looked Icelus straight in the eye.
You won't stop us, Icelus!
The man looked back at us again.
I need you to say it with me: “Scary monster in the night, we don't like you, no more fright!”
He leaned in very close.
Say it: “Scary monster in the night, we don't like you, no more fright!”
Icelus was terrified.
No!
It threw its head back.
NOOOOOOOOOOOOOO!!!
It ran off into the distance, out of sight.
The man looked back at us.
Thank you! Now my friend will be safe!
He crouched down and took us by the shoulders.
Remember: you don't have to be afraid of Icelus – just remember that you don't like it, and you don't want it near you, and it won't come to get you.
He got up.
Thank you!
Marc closed the book.
“That made no sense,” he said.
But when he looked at Icelus, her expression surprised him. Her jaw was set, her eyes narrowed. She was angry.
“I should have known,” she said. “I should have known, dammit.”
“What?” asked Marc. “Known what?
“I know who's threatening the bridge between our worlds.” Icelus got up and took the book in between her mouth and tossed it on the ground. It opened up to the first page, with a picture of the man who had been talking to “us”.
“That man is named Piper,” she said. “He's a powerful nightmare. A cunning and ambitious one as well.”
“He's... a nightmare?” asked Marc. “But he's not a monster or anything.”
“Nightmares can look human as well,” she said. “It all depends on what they represent. I never found out which fear Piper represents to humans, but he took advantage of his appearance to fool us more than once.”
“Why does he want to destroy the bridge?” asked Marc.
Icelus's head dropped. She shuffled awkwardly. “The bridge is just collateral damage. It's in his way. I'm the protector of the bridge, ergo I'm in his way too. This,” she pointed at the book with her snout, “is an attack on me. He must have somehow appeared in this world – in your world – and convinced someone to write it.”
“Reid Marshall,” said Marc. “I knew him, sort of. He was a family friend. He died years ago.”
Icelus considered that. “Then the plan failed,” she said. “He must have a new one now. One that's working.”
“But what kind of plan is this?” Marc held up the book to Icelus and waved it. “It looks more like a smear campaign.”
“That's exactly it, Marc,” she said. “Didn't I tell you? My sigil is on that monster in the book.” Icelus started pacing back and forth. “This was an attempt to direct a large amount of negative psychic energy towards me, to break my power. If humans hate me, if they don't believe in my ability to protect the bridge...” she paused, “...then I can't protect it.
“Look at the chant at the end,” she said. “We don't like you, no more fright. And his advice for us at the end? You don't like it, and you don't want it near you. If people had seen this, if this book had been successful, it would have almost destroyed me.”
“But it didn't,” said Marc. “I mean... you probably can't tell, but this book... uh, it sucks. It doesn't teach a lesson, it's not funny,” he threw the book on the ground. “I'd rather read Fox in Socks any day.”
“Foxensox?” Icelus repeated.
“Never mind,” said Marc. “The point is, whoever this Piper guys is, if he wants to get people to hate you, he's done a bad job. You should be good, right?”
Icelus said nothing.
“Icelus,” said Marc. “Are you okay?”
“Piper has already done a number on my reputation back in Oniron,” she said bitterly. “He was the reason I was exiled.”
“What? How?”
Icelus sighed. “I suppose you should know. It wasn't important before, but now it is. I'll tell you everything.”
The bridge between our worlds is called the Nexus. It's beautiful and majestic and larger than you can fathom. And it extends into infinity. When you go into the throne room of the castle of Agremonth, when you pass through the doorway and look at the Nexus, you cannot see the end. It may look like a normal bridge above a cavernous abyss, but it cannot be traversed. You can walk forward forever and ever and when you turn around the doorway will still be three steps behind you. The Nexus doesn't extend into a physical space; it joins the two worlds themselves, and the only thing that flows between them are dreams and ideas, thoughts and stories.
I spent most of my time there. I was the guardian of this bridge. It enriched me. Standing there and observing the flow of pure energy. I saw how both of the worlds were shaping themselves all from my position. I didn't leave often.
The first time I met Piper, he came to visit me. Anyone could enter my abode; nobody wished me ill, and everyone knew how important it was to maintain the Nexus. Most citizens of Oniron, or at least those who could make the trip, visited me at least once. Some came to see me very often, eager to listen to me tell about the history of the worlds and the stories I had taken from your side. But I had never seen Piper before. When he came he was very meek, almost cowed by my power and age, but I was used to this, and I welcomed him warmly.
“It is nice of you to visit me,” I said.
“Icelus. It's nice to finally meet you,” he said in return. “I've heard many tales about your wisdom and kindness.”
“Oh, don't listen to them,” I chuckled. “I merely do my duty. I'm blessed to have a valuable place in this world.”
Piper nodded awkwardly and looked around. He saw the abyss of dreams and ideas as they flew closer to our side of the bridge and then dissipated, ready to take form somewhere in the outlands of Oniron.
“Those are the nightmares of humans?” he asked.
“They are,” I said. “I only hope they're not too much trouble for our people to handle.”
“Too much to handle?”
“It doesn't happen often,” I said, “but sometimes a really strong nightmare takes form and endangers us.”
“What makes a nightmare strong or weak?”
“How much humans fear it,” I told him. “Not love or hate it, mind you, but fear it. If an idea makes a strong and frightening impression on a large enough number of humans, then it becomes powerful.”
“Can nightmares become weak?”
“Yes,” I said. Now that I look back, it was clear how he was channeling me into this topic – weak and dying nightmares – but I thought they were innocent enough questions. So I answered them truthfully. “A nightmare never really dies. No power in existence can really destroy an idea. But it can be weakened, if it stops being feared. To cause laughter, or disbelief; that is a heavy toll on a nightmare. But it must happen to all of them eventually. They will never die, perhaps, but they must always be subject to the unceasing flood of change. All things must change.”
“Because of the Nexus?” asked Piper.
“Because of the Nexus,” I said.
He remained silent for a little while. He was struggling to spit something out. I said nothing. He would come to it eventually. I had time.
“I brought someone along with me,” he said finally.
“Who is it?”
“He's...” his voice dropped down to a whisper. “He's a nightmare.”
My ears perked up. “Why did you bring a nightmare here?” I asked. “You could get in major trouble – I don't even know what Chief Bairdsley would say.”
He put a finger to his mouth. “I know, I know,” he said. “But... please, will you see him? Can you help him?”
“What does a nightmare need help with?”
“Please.”
I sighed. “Fine. Is he here?”
“Yes,” said Piper. “I'll go get him.”
He ducked out of sight into the throne room. Was just behind the door? In plain sight? The fool – anybody could have walked in and seen this nightmare he'd snuck in.
They would have recognized it as one, too.. The thing was clearly monstrous – four-legged, lizardlike, its head was mostly maw and mouth. It was constantly opening and closing its jaw, as if it was looking for something to eat, and its breath was shaky and uneven.
“It doesn't look like it's wounded,” I said. “Merely frail.”
“He,” insisted Piper.
“...he, then. He doesn't look like he's wounded.”
“I don't think he is,” said Piper, “at least not normally.”
“Who is he? Do you know?”
The nightmare crooked its head up and met my gaze. “Canis,” it said.
“It speaks,” I said, surprised.
“Yes,” it responded. “Piper, could you please put me down?”
Piper gently lowered Canis onto the ground, and he awkwardly rolled out of Piper's arms. It adjusted its position and looked at me again. “I was mighty once, you know,” it said. “Those humans, they ran around every day and every night terrified that they might get eaten by a wild animal. And I was that fear.”
He certainly looked like the kind of nightmare who would embody it. I told him, “The days when humans feared being eaten alive are ancient history to them. Now they are the masters of their world.”
“I know,” it harshly rattled out. “And now I am the victim of their changing society. One I had no say in. Is that fair?”
“'Fair' does not matter,” I said.
“But I was strong,” he murmured. “I ruled the outlands. And then humans made me weak.”
“It was only humans that made you strong in the first place,” I replied. “Everything must change, Canis. One day the humans will destroy themselves, and then maybe those who are left will begin to fear the appetites of wild animals once again. If – when – that happens, you will thank them then.”
“Icelus,” said Piper. “Isn't there anything you can do? When I met Canis in the outlands, he was so weak, but he was so kind to me.”
“Kind,” I said. “I guarantee you, Piper, he is only 'kind' because he is weak now. Was he kind when he haunted the minds of humans? No. He thrived off their fear and dominated the outlands. Those who dominate are always cruel. If he was not weak, he would not have been kind.”
“That doesn't invalidate his kindness,” Piper said. He gave me such a fierce look then. It was bold and defiant. I was impressed.
“No,” I said. “It doesn't. But I still can't help him. He is subject to the laws of our world.”
“Because of the Nexus?” asked Piper.
I looked at him long and hard.
“Because of the Nexus,” I said. “Now if you are done, please leave.”
I didn't often ask people to leave, but Piper had rattled me. As he scooped up his friend and shot me a resentful look on his way out, I began to consider the Nexus. That fountain of endless change and upheaval. I suppose sometimes I forget the ordinary people who are swept up in that change.
A few months later, Chief Bairdsley invited me to be a guest of honor at the Adjoining Festival. This was a special day – it only happened about once every twenty years in Oniron, or about seventy years in the human world. It is the time when the resonant frequencies of our two worlds are the closest, so much so that a small hole opens up in our sky that directly connects the worlds. It's a very clear sight – everybody joins together to catch a glimpse of the human world for about ten or twenty minutes. It's probably even more direct and clear than even the Nexus's connection.
I had been to several Adjoining Festivals before – in addition to the glimpse everyone got to see of the human world, it was symbolic, too – a passing of the torch from one generation to the next. The children loved it most of all. It was a kind of holiday dedicated to their potential in the future, and capped off with a spectacular view.
And the children at that particular festival were all over me! As soon as I came to the nearby city of Zamasea, I was flooded with children who wanted to meet the legendary guardian of the Nexus. It almost suffocated me – after all, I was still assuming a dog shape, and I didn't even come up to some of these kids' chests as they patted me and bent down to ask me questions. I tried to fight my way through - “Pardon me,” “Excuse me,” “Sorry,” “I'm going somewhere,” but they just kept coming. I nearly thought this would be the end of me.
It was only then that I felt two strong, firm hands reach around my sides and pick me up. It was a tall, strong man who I didn't recognize at all. Did he want to carry me off and parade me around the city?
“Icelus,” he said reassuringly. “It's good to meet you. I'm Garrett. Chief Bairdsley sent me to fetch you.” He turned to the crowd of kids. “Maybe these kids should become assistants instead, they're doing a better job than I am!”
The kids all laughed at that, but I was practically red with embarrassment. Garrett carried me away and set me down, so at least when I greeted Bairdsley I could try to forget the temporary loss of dignity.
Bairdsley sat at the head of an enormous table in the middle of the town square, entertaining guests and making sure that everyone was eating well. As Garrett and I approached, he caught a glimpse of me and threw his arms up.
“Icelus!” he said. “So glad you could make it. Take this seat right here, I insist.” He pulled away his chair at the head of the table and offered it to me.
I demurred and decided to sit next to him instead, across from an old man I did not recognize. He smiled. “I see you already know my son.”
“Who, the Chief?” I asked.
Bairdsley chuckled. “Icelus, this is my father, Ianto Bairdsley. He traveled from two cities over to see this.”
“I took my son to the Adjoining Festival when he was very young,” said Ianto. “It was very special to us. I'm glad I'll get to see it one last time before I pass away.”
“Now, father,” said Bairdsley. “Don't be too morbid.”
“What?” Ianto said. “No point in getting old if I can't joke about dying now and then.” He chuckled, mostly to himself.
Bairdsley took his place at the head of the table. “You have good timing, Icelus,” he whispered to me. “We're about to witness the Adjoining any second now.”
“Is that so? I haven't seen one in many years.”
“I've almost forgotten how the other world looks,” he said excitedly.
Suddenly there was a shift in the air – seismic and yet unseeable. Everyone at the table and around the town square noticed, and became deathly still.
They looked up. Nothing... Nothing. Nothi -
A gasp erupted from the crowd. Pointed fingers. They all looked up to see a tiny little pinprick of a hole in the sky – first small, then slowly expanding. It was no empty hole – as it opened wider you could see greens and blues and whites that were nowhere in our world.
It was the Adjoining. Some people were seeing it for the first time in their lives. A magical moment. I saw their faces light up in wonder, not daring to look away for a second at this strange and wonderful other world.
Then a twinge pulled at me in the back of my head, and then that small twinge erupted into a flame.
As the guardian of the Nexus, I'm connected to it. Even when I'm not there, I can sense its state. What I felt then was something I hadn't felt in years – I had nearly forgotten what it was like. But I knew, instinctively, that the Nexus was in trouble. All the power and rage I had not loosed for generations came welling back up inside me – the absolute need to protect it. Nothing else was important right now.
Somebody thought that they could use this festival as a distraction. I would not let them.
I can't describe how angry I was right then. The connection to the Nexus is very, very deep. Trying to damage it only aroused immediate and intense feelings of protection in me. I needed to be there.
I also told you, I once had immense power in my world. As a guardian, it was required. The connection between the worlds is too important to entrust to one who is weak or unable to protect it. I had not had to do so in centuries, not since the days when I fought to a standstill the Eye of Creation, or the Omni-decay, and even more gods and deities who never had names.
These two facts – my anger and my power – were very clear and obvious to me. I knew them. The townsfolk did not. What they saw then was not me puffing myself up to appear frightening and scare off intruders. What they saw was... terrifying, simply terrifying.
In mere seconds, I became towering. Enormous. I kept my form as a dog, but I loomed over the town, cast a shadow over the buildings, and probably blocked the view of the Adjoining. My colors changed to the boundless and acidic tones that reflected the empty space between atoms. I only remember the gasps of terror as I grew larger and more ferocious.
I did not have time to stop for them.
With great bounds and leaps, I turned and bounded back to my castle of Agremonth. Whoever was attacking the Nexus would soon feel my wrath.
It was a short distance from Zamasea to Agremonth, and in my enormous form I made the journey in minutes. I nearly flew into the castle, making myself small enough to fit but large enough to fill a room, up through passages and hallways, finally bursting into the throne room. Only then did I see who it was that had tried to attack the Nexus.
PIPER, I said.
He was crouched over a small mark that he had carved in the ground. But when he saw me, he dropped his chisel and fell to the floor. He shook and swayed in terror.
“No!” he shouted. “You weren't supposed to know!”
YOU THOUGHT YOU COULD SLIP BY ME.
“My people are suffering because of the Nexus!” he said.
YOUR PEOPLE?
“Yes!” Piper rose up. “Or didn't you know, Icelus? Where do you think I learned a spell that could possibly hurt you? I'm a nightmare, too!”
It couldn't be – Piper looked so much like a regular person. But he looked at me with such hatred. I saw the look in his eyes and I knew it was true.
I roared – an enormous sound that tore the air from the room, a sound that would be heard for miles and miles. And I told him, loud enough for everyone even in Zamasea to hear.
YOU HAVE ATTACKED THE NEXUS, PIPER. YOU SHALL BE PUNISHED.
“I don't think so,” he whispered, and pulled out a single crystal.
It was tiny – small enough to fit between his thumb and forefinger. Small enough that he crushed it easily, and a strange swirl of light and energy erupted from it.
He stepped through it, and was gone.
No, I thought. This can't be – I must find him!
So I roared again. This time in anger. It shattered every window in the castle and brought stillness and silence to the entire countryside. Thus was the strength of my full power.
And yet it still could not help me to punish a single criminal.
“She's here.”
I heard a voice echo from across the throne room. I had been attempting to scratch out the magic sigil that Piper had been about to activate. It was nearly gone.
When I turned around I saw Chief Bairdsley at the head of a group of officials. He looked grim, his jaw set and his eyes ragged.
“Icelus,” he said. “What happened?”
“A nightmare named Piper attacked the Nexus,” I said. “He got away before I could kill him.”
“So... that's what you look like on the job.”
I looked at Bairdsley. “What do you mean?”
Bairdsley shook his head. “You didn't look back at Zamasea for one second, did you?”
“No,” I said. “I had no time. I had to find Piper and stop him from destroying the Nexus. What happened?”
One of the officials behind Bairdsley broke off and shouted at me. I recognized him – it was Garrett. “What happened was you nearly leveled the city!”
An ice-cold pin stabbed my heart. “No... I didn't think...”
Silence. Finally I asked, “Did anyone die?”
Bairdsley sighed and looked away. “Yes.”
The pin was driven even deeper. “How many?”
“Five,” he said. “My father included.”
This... was terrible, this couldn't be happening. Ianto was dead. I had killed him? “I'm sorry,” I said. “I didn't mean...”
“His heart stopped when he saw you, Icelus,” Bairdsley continued. “I'd almost say you scared him to death.”
I said nothing. What could I say?
“Icelus,” said Bairdsley. His voice was thick and bitter now. “Why didn't you look? Aren't you supposed to be our ally? Aren't you supposed to protect us?”
Piper's sigil still seemed to burn up, past all the scratch marks I had tried to hide it with. “I was furious,” I said softly. “I didn't think.”
“Furious?!” Bairdsley exploded. “Can't we expect anything better from our guardians? Our gods? You let your anger consume you and now five people are dead!” He hesitated. “My father never got to see the other world again because of your foolishness!”
For a long, long time, I said nothing. I had never done anything like this. I had last used my powers ages in the past, before people had settled much in Oniron. There were barely any lives to be endangered. I had fought ideas and horrors that tortured the minds of men so I could protect the link between our worlds. I had not done it for praise, or gratitude, but because I knew it was my duty. But now, when there was finally something tangible, something here, to protect, I had disregarded it all. What could I say to Bairdsley? Every excuse, every justification fell away from me. Had I learned anything in the thousands of years that had passed?
I glanced at the Nexus. It was still as beautiful as the first time I'd ever laid eyes on it. Still changing everything.
I remembered then something I had told Piper when he came to me.
They will never die, perhaps, but they must always be subject to the unceasing flood of change. All things must change.
Because of the Nexus? Piper's voice rang in my head once more.
I had let my old instincts rule my head. I had not changed – but the world around me had. And the price of my stubborness and my fixity had been tragic.
Because of the Nexus, I thought.
I did not belong in this world anymore.
“Bairdsley,” I said. “I'm sorry. I'm truly so sorry.”
“That doesn't bring back the dead, Icelus,” he said.
“No,” I said. “But it will not happen again.” And I opened my mouth and I howled.
The magic of ages long past flowed out of me – from deep in my stomach, rising through my throat and out into the air. This was not the roar of destruction I unleashed to scare Piper – this was something else. Cathartic. Transformative. Creational. It drained me. I sung the life out of myself, and the sound of that life formed into something different. Something clear and resonant and unyielding.
I stopped. I had never felt weaker. Nearly all my power was gone. When I looked at Bairdsley and the gathered townspeople, it was through a shining, translucent wall of pure magic. This was what I had made.
“This is the Shieldwork,” I said. “It will guard the Nexus in my stead.”
“Where are you going?!” Bairdsley shouted.
“To the other world,” I said. “I will remain there. Perhaps forever. My time in this world is over. I tried to be constant, I tried to never change,” I paused and sighed. “Anything that resists change eventually rots. I will not allow myself to rot any further.”
And with that I turned. “Goodbye, Bairdsley. You taught me a lesson. I'm so sorry the price was so high.”
So I walked. Across the Nexus, through the membrane of the worlds.
It was difficult. More difficult than I could possibly describe. Perhaps I could have weathered it if I still held my power, but I had given it all up. And now I was suffering the price for it. A horrible weight gradually pressed down on my back. My lungs screamed for air. My vision blurred. And still I kept on. It was a kind of self-punishment, and I knew I deserved it.
Would I die here? It would be almost welcome.
Eventually I reached a place where I could continue no longer. It would have been like squeezing myself through a keyhole. With the last of my strength, I forced myself to sit up. My limbs were turning to stone now. Not just figuratively, but literally. The unceasing pressure at the deep end of the Nexus had hardened my skin. And so I remained like that. My mind closed. It was almost like dreaming.
I had never dreamed before.
The last thing I remember before my mind slipped away completely was a dream. A dream of being taken and watching over a living room. I used to guard the fundamental structure of the universe. Now I watched over a fireplace.
So be it.
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