Part 24 (1/2)
It was a beautiful morning over the foothills of the Pyrenees, with scattered soapsuds clouds over the pelty meadows. The dragon writhed for the sheer feeling of it.
”Where exactly am I taking you all?” he asked, first in Arabic and then in Italian.
”Lappland,” answered Saara promptly. ”If you are going that far.” Gaspare groaned from below.
”I think you're a fool, my lady. But Lombardy for me, signore. Where else?”
”The land of lights is not too far at all,” stated the dragon. ”And Lombardy is on the way.” Again he s.h.i.+fted language.
”And you, Venerable Sage-where would the lady and yourself like to be ferried?”
Raphael was silent. He threw back his head and regarded the blue, uncommunicative sky. ”I don't know. All the earth is beautiful, and I'm sure it is my fault that I Cannot feel myself to belong to it. It is just that I never expected...”
He shook his golden head. ”Never mind me. Take us any place we might find a welcome, Djoura and I.”.
”Lappland,” said Saara, who caught the meaning of the exchange through the foreign words.
”Lombardy,” insisted Gaspare, who had done the same. ”A very civilized place, as Raphael well knows. Besides, I need my lessons.”
”There is always Cathay,” added the dragon with studied casualness. ”In Cathay they know how to respect sages. And spirits.”
The blond smiled. ”And am I either?” Then his expression softened.
”What can we possibly do for you-uh, Venerable Dragon? I and all my friends owe our lives to you.
Perhaps many times over.”
The black dragon chuckled steam. ”No matter, Venerable Sage. I have a great respect for teachers.”
”Do you want me to teach you, then?”
The creature gave a tiny s.h.i.+ver then, which every pa.s.senger felt but none understood. ”Can you teach me truth?”
”No,” replied Raphael gravely. ”Just music-the lute, primarily. But in the study of the lute you may find more than you expect.”
”Music?” The dragon emitted a long, serpentine sigh. ”Truth through tuned strings, instead of through privation, paradox, or long silence? I've never heard of THAT approach. ”
It was Raphael's turn to chuckle and he gave Djoura a little squeeze. ”That is not to say it won't work, however.”
The dragon held up one five-fingered, obsidian, clawed hand. It was the one that held Gaspare. ”It would have to be a rather large lute.”
”Very well. You can learn to sing instead,” said Raphael equably. ”Every type and every individual created has its own music.”
Once again the dragon cleared his throat and bobbed diffidently through the sky. ”To sing? The thought makes me very awkward...”
Raphael chuckled. ”The thought makes everyone awkward. But that tension can be overcome. You will find...”
”What's that I see?” called Saara from behind them all. ”Straight ahead. Coming fast?”
They all looked, but only the dragon's eyes saw, and with an organ-pipe whistling he humped and turned in the air.
Saara clung to Raphael who held to Djoura tightly. The Berber locked her fingers in their grips.In a few moments they could all see.
It came in the form of a white dragon. It came in the form of a writhing, legless wyvern. It came in the form of a phosph.o.r.escent, myriad plague.
It was destruction, dread, the death of hope, and it was coming fast.
”What is it? WHAT IS IT!” cried Djoura, craning her neck around. But she did not need the stricken faces of her fellows to tell her it was terrible. ”Why is it chasing us?”
For a moment no one had the heart to tell her, then at last Raphael spoke. ”It is Satan-Iblis-whom Saara calls the Liar. It is my brother.”
Then Lucifer swept over them. He came between them and the sun, huger than a cloud. His shape was that of a king in rich robes, with a visage of blood.
The black dragon sank crazily toward the earth.
Saara felt the shadow touch her, with paralysis and despair in its wake. She laughed-laughed at the naivete of her plans for the future. She had no future. But with that single laugh the paralysis pa.s.sed Saara over, and her despair turned into unbreakable resolve. She let go of the man she had tracked across Europe and took to the air.
”No!” shouted Raphael, as he felt her go. ”Saara of Saami! This is not your battle anymore!”
And indeed, as she flung herself at the breast of the hideous king, it vanished in front of her, leaving nothing but cloudless sky. The dove fluttered wildly before an iron hand struck her and sent her falling.
Gaspare screamed.
The dragon vomited fire at the apparition. He grabbed the falling woman with one hind claw. Flicking his snake's tail he flung himself toward the broken hills.
The sound of cruel laughter was all around them. It turned the air poisonous to their lungs. All eyes dimmed.
But the black dragon touched the earth again, searing the autumn gra.s.ses at his feet. Gently he shook off his living cargo.
Lucifer alighted before them, and his towering size reduced the Basque hills to clods of dirt. His colors were bright and monstrous. He wore a crown of gold and the face of Raphael.
”Haven't we done as much mischief as we possibly could?” he inquired jovially, looking carefully from Saara to the dragon to Gaspare. ”Haven't we?”
The dragon coiled around his tiny dependents as dragons coil around their h.o.a.rds. His corona of gold and scarlet stood out stiffly from his head. His eyes gleamed as white as an August sun. ”Delusion!” he hissed. ”Puffed, empty delusion!”
Lucifer regarded him thoughtfully. ”It is no delusion that you are going to die, snake,” he said, grinning horribly.
But a small black hand gripped one of the dragons coronal spikes. Djoura's face appeared next to it.
She had a stone in her hand. She stepped out.
”No, child!” The creature moved to guard her. ”You don't know what it is you are facing.”
She opened her lips, which were whitened with fear. ”I know,” she said. ”I have faced slavery,”
Djoura whispered almost without sound. ”I have faced swords. I have faced YOU, great dragon.
”AND,” Djoura found her voice at last. ”I have stolen the moon. The moon! Did you know that, Iblis?” And with a mad laugh, the Berber woman flung her stone at the Devil.
It soared its futile course. It might have hit the apparition's knee. But instead the small missile hung in the air and grew, until it became the image of a black man in blood caked robes. His body was hewed and his head struck off before them. The open eyes of the head wore an expression of idiocy.