Anything but Ordinary (19 page)

All the accumulated data on these various legends could be said to constitute a file in themselves.  Particularly in the case of that data that was accessed on the Aethernet.  Ray assembled the data into a file on the Aethernet and saved it to mainframe. This was the easy part, accessing mainframe was the hard part, or would have been if Tamar and Denny had not been in and out of mainframe so many times in recent years that they might as well have installed a revolving door. 

Ray had been astounded and frankly envious when he had heard this. He bowed down to Denny as his master. To actually break into the mainframe was, for Ray, the summit of all hacking achievement. However, Denny and Tamar had already gone to the Alborz Mountains so Ray was on his own with this one. Luckily he had paid attention to his teacher, and he knew a bit about computers in his own right in any case.  Besides, mainframe was always open on Denny’s computer anyway.

It was, as he explained it, a bit like stepping into a storybook.

So, it was in this way that he sent Stiles, and Melissa to Shangri La and Hecaté and Slick (or Tony as he still thought of him, although nobody else did) to find the Borges valley. It was not until after they had gone that he realised what an idiot he was. 

* * *

‘Is it real?’ asked Melissa in a hushed voice.

‘Oh, I think so,’ said Stiles in a voice that meant “definitely”

‘It’s wonderful.’

‘Yes.’ answered Stiles dully.

‘What’s wrong?’ asked Melissa nervously. These people seemed to have an instinct for trouble that she had not been endowed with.

‘Nothing,’ said Stiles to her immense relief. ‘But it’s
real
, you see. Not magical – or is it?’ He looked enquiringly at her.

‘There’s magic here,’ she said. ‘But of an Earthly kind if you see what I mean. It’s deep, old magic from before the mainframe and all the gods and well, everything really.’

‘I feel like an intruder,’ said Stiles.

‘Yes, no human being has ever set foot here before,’ she said. ‘But I don’t feel like an intruder here. It feels like home in a funny sort of way. There’s a welcome here, can’t you feel it? This place is filled with love.’

‘No,’ said Stiles stolidly. ‘I can’t feel it. We don’t belong here. And Loki definitely wasn’t, isn’t or never will be here.’

‘No,’ said Melissa in a distant voice.

Stiles looked sharply at her. She was like a woman on drugs, lost somewhere far away in her own head. Stiles knew an instant addiction when he saw it.  He could feel the power of this place too, but it was beating uselessly on his consciousness from the outside as it were. As a former addict (of alcohol) and a man whose brain was on permanent suspicious alert his resistance was stronger than hers. She was so far under the influence of this place that she could not feel the influence any more. But he could.  He was going to have trouble getting her out of here; he could see that. And worse, when she left, she would suffer a terrible withdrawal. He had seen it before.

Best to take her by surprise he decided. If he gave her time to argue, he might never catch her. She
was
a witch after all.

Feeling like a wretch, he grabbed her suddenly by the arm and, giving her no time to protest, positively yelled, ‘
Close file
.’

As the beautiful paradise of Shangri La dissolved away, Melissa let out the visceral scream of a creature being torn away from its mother’s womb.

* * *

The path inside the mountain led into a giant labyrinth.  Rooms of seven doors each, with six of them leading backwards, and only one leading deeper into the maze.

‘Why is it always a labyrinth?’ sighed Hecaté.  ‘Why is there never just a door with a sign on it?  Always so difficult.  No wonder Tamar hates quests.’

‘Does she?’ asked Slick.  ‘I really know very little about her, now I come to think of it.’

‘Yes, she is very secretive,’ affirmed Hecaté. ‘I believe that she fears what will happen if anyone knows too much about her. Her story is quite a tragic one really.’

‘She must have been
delighted
then, to have reporters all over her ass,’ said Slick.

‘Ah, yes, a trying time for us all, it contributed considerably to the recent upheavals in our lives.’

Slick thought about this for a moment and then decided he did not care. ‘So what about Cindy?’ he asked. ‘What’s
her
story?’ He decided that this was too pointed and added. ‘And Denny and everyone, what’s everyone’s story?’

Hecaté laughed. ‘My goodness,’ she said. ‘Just how long do you think we have here?’

They were pushing on through cavern after cavern always taking what they assumed to be the inner door leading farther into the mountain. 

‘Not too bloody long I hope,’ admitted Slick. ‘I never thought this sort of thing could be so boring.’

‘No, no one tells you about the boring bits in stories,’ she said. ‘But they happen all too often.’

‘Followed by brief periods of extreme excitement and danger?’ asked Slick hopefully. 

‘Excitement is not all it is cracked up to be,’ said Hecaté severely. And not all danger is exciting either. You are, for example, very much mistaken if you believe that you are not in great danger at this very moment.’

Slick did not answer this; he was too busy looking nervously behind him and fighting a strong desire to gnaw on his fingernails. 

‘You want to know all about us?’ resumed Hecaté. ‘Starting with Cindy?’ she added with just a slight lilt in her voice, which told Slick that he had not fooled her at all.

‘You know that she and Finvarra are together?’ asked Hecaté, just a little disapprovingly.

‘I thought they
might
be,’ admitted Slick. ‘Only I wasn’t sure, I mean they don’t seem exactly … well
she
doesn’t seem to … Oh, I don’t know …’

‘
If
Cindy were not as devoted to Finvarra as she might be,’ said Hecaté. ‘And I personally do
not
know that that is the case. It would not be
you
that she would turn to. I will say no more.’ she added in order to forestall any impertinent enquiries. 

‘I think this might be the last door,’ he said, in order to change the subject. 

‘Why so?’ asked Hecaté.

‘It’s the seventh,’ said Slick. ‘I just have a feeling.’ He shrugged. ‘Seven doors to every cave …’

Slick’s feeling turned out to be correct. Beyond the seventh door was a ruined kingdom that had clearly once been magnificent.  There were people.

This was not entirely unexpected. If the stories were true, then these were the ancients who had built this kingdom; they were even older than Tamar. Nor were they terribly surprised to see that the men were almost catatonic and seemed very primitive. 

‘Like cave men,’ said Slick in a voice hushed with awe.

‘Yes,’ whispered back Hecaté, ‘it is very sad.’ 

‘But … Tamar, I mean – she’s pretty old. Well, I don’t mean … but, what I mean is … surely immortality didn’t do this on its own?’

‘Who knows,’ said Hecaté sombrely. ‘These are men. They were not supposed to have so many years on the Earth. Perhaps they have not lived for all these centuries. Perhaps they have only existed, learning nothing new, growing inward until their minds turned in on themselves and their hearts froze.’

‘Sounds boring,’ said Slick. ‘“Live fast, die young” sounds better to me.’

‘You are wise to think so,’ said Hecaté, smiling. ‘It is the way of men to do just that. The lives of men are but brief candles flickering before our eyes, and this is how it was meant to be.’

‘Do you want Jack to do that?’ asked Slick with what he believed was great shrewdness.

‘I will not hinder his natural path,’ said Hecaté serenely. ‘Could I be selfish enough to wish him to become like
this
?’ She gestured toward the blank eyed ancients, some of whom were drooling, ‘Just to have him by my side. When I have strayed so far from wisdom, I too will die.’

Slick was silent.

‘Loki was not here,’ said Hecaté briskly. ‘It is time we returned.’

* * *

Ray was startled out of his usual laid back composure by the terrifying primal scream that heralded the return of Stiles and Melissa.  As Stiles appeared in the computer den clinging on to her tightly, she suddenly appeared to go limp and fell to the floor. 

‘What’s the matter with her?’ asked Ray, horrified. They had only been gone a few minutes. 

Stiles knelt down beside her with a deep sense of foreboding. Then he straightened up with a grieved look on his face. ‘She’s dead,’ he said quietly.

‘N-no,’ said Ray. He started to shake.

‘I’m sorry,’ said Stiles.

‘You’re
sorry
?’ snarled Ray in disbelief. ‘You bastard! You were supposed to be looking after her.’

‘I know.’ he looked Ray straight in the face and, without flinching, told him. ‘I’m sorry, I guess I just don’t know what the hell to say.’

* * *

The funeral was a private affair, presided over by Hecaté, who considered it her responsibility particularly in the absence of Cindy, who, in other circumstances as her sister witch, would have done this duty.  Melissa was cremated according to her wishes, and a small service was held in the garden, by the small lake, or large pond, as you prefer. 

 It turned out that, if she had a family, no one, not even Ray, knew about it. He spoke for her in shaking voice – no one else was sufficiently acquainted with her to do this task.  Fenrir had yet to show his face since the fateful day when he and Denny had taken David to the void. He did not even know that Melissa had died. No one knew where he was, and no one cared very much. 

Ray, it seemed had been far fonder of Melissa than anyone had guessed. He had begged Tamar to save her, but she had reluctantly been forced to admit that there was nothing she could do. Hecaté could have brought her back, but it seemed cruel to tell him this, since the price he would have had to pay would have been too high and there seemed little doubt that he would have paid it and then suffered accordingly. 

All Tamar could do was take his pain from him, and he was not sure that he wanted her to do this although she offered.  It would feel like a betrayal, he said. But Tamar assured him that he would not forget her. He said he would think about it.

The service was, fortunately, more or less over when they were unexpectedly interrupted.

 As they stood in a sombre group before the lake contemplating, their own thoughts, three blonde women appeared in the water.

They were standing on the surface of the lake, hands on hips, lips curled in a manner irresistibly reminiscent of teenage harpies. The queen bitches of the school. 

Only Tamar failed to react. Everyone else gasped in everything from shock (Slick – who was not used to this sort of thing) to indignation (Ray – who was not used to this sort of thing either but had other concerns on his mind)

The tallest and prettiest of these girls addressed Tamar. ‘Woglinde’s
very
upset,’ she informed her in a tart voice and folded her arms defiantly. This was evidenced by the traces of tears on the face of what was apparently Woglinde.

‘
Aren’t
you Woglinde?’ asked the first speaker, pushing her forward for inspection.

Woglinde nodded obediently and scurried back behind the third girl, who had so far said nothing, but stood there looking as defiant as it is possible to look, without actually having anyone to defy.

‘Flosshilde?’ said Tamar as if she were not quite sure, although she was. She had a horrible feeling that she knew what this was about and was stalling for time.

But Flosshilde was not to be put off. ‘Where is she?’ she snapped, looking around in vain for Cindy.

‘Who?’ asked Tamar with a sinking heart.  As if they did not have enough problems.

‘The bitch who stole our Rheingold,’ Flosshilde said.

‘Ah, shit!’ said Tamar. ‘I
had
to ask,’ she added. ‘Look, she’s not here, but we
will
find her and … Oh my God!’ she stopped and slapped herself on the forehead.

‘What is it?’ asked Denny who recognised a “Eureka” moment when he saw one.

‘Water,’ said Tamar mysteriously enough pointing a shaking finger at this perfectly innocent element in an accusatory fashion.

‘Yes?’asked Denny.

‘Rhine maidens,’ she added even more inexplicably.

‘We worked that much out …’ Denny began and then he got it. ‘Oh my God,’ he repeated. ‘I can’t believe we went all over the sodding place when the answer was right here all along,’

Their eyes met, shining with excitement, Tamar was bobbing up and down. ‘It was so
obvious
,’ she said

‘Er, does anybody have any idea what they are talking about?’ asked Slick.

‘Not the slightest clue,’ said Stiles dryly. ‘But I think Loki’s time is up.’

‘He’s not the only one,’ said a voice behind them.

‘There!’ screeched Woglinde pointing, but everyone had already turned.

Dramatically backlit against the setting sun, Cindy stood still as a statue, and as cold.

‘Cindy?’ Denny tried and was rewarded with a scornful glance. He frowned, trying to understand.

Cindy turned a savagely cold glare on everyone present in turn until her eyes reached Woglinde. Then she gave a mocking smile. ‘Looking for this?’ she asked, and held up a small golden ring. The Rhine maidens, as one, howled in fury.

Denny’s Wagner came back to him. ‘Cindy
don’t
!’ he called. She ignored him.

‘Cindy!’ said Tamar warningly.

No one else spoke; there was a sense that the wrong thing said at this point would be disastrous.

‘Cindy please,’ said Denny. ‘Don’t do this. The power of the Rheingold will destroy you. It’s not worth it. Have you
really
forsaken love?’

Now
she looked at him. ‘
You
ought to know,’ she said pointedly, and Denny winced. Then she began to laugh. A bitter, cold laughter that emanated from an entirely empty heart. Everyone shuddered.

‘Okay,’ snapped Tamar unwisely, ‘enough with the Cruella De Ville. Give it up and we’ll say no more about it. I know it must have been very tempting, but it’s really not a good idea.’