Into The West

[Victoria Victrix]

            Into The West

Vickie had done the calculations too many times to be anything but certain.

The world—no, the multiverse—had three months left.

When the Void appeared over First Ward she had been perturbed.  When it turned up over Night Ward, she had been uneasy.

When it appeared in Primal...and when everyone had suddenly known, instinctively, that Doom was hurtling towards them...she was not content to just lie down and take it.  That had not been her way, not since Red had brought her out of a suicidal depression and taught her how to live again.  She ran the math, she ran the magic, she did everything she could think of, first to find out why, then to find out if something, anything could stop this.

The answer to the second...was no.

The answer to the first...somehow she was not surprised to discover it was all the fault of Mender Silos and his meddling morons.  Not content with sending one hero back to key points in time to fix things, they kept sending hero and villain, one after another, back to the same key points in time, over and over, until the space-time continuum looked like swiss cheese.  And still not taking the hint, they kept doing it, until it looked like a lace curtain.  And now it was collapsing in on itself.

But...there might be a way out.  For a few, anyway.  And that was what she was here to find out.

She waited, quietly, in the ancient magic circle that only those with the eyes for magic could see.  She had sent the request, now to see if it would be answered.

There was a breath of springlike air, a glow of power...and it was.

"Greetings, Amber-star."  The form of Robin Goodfellow, Prince of Elfhame Silverthorn Underhill coalesced out of the darkness within the circle. 

She bowed.  "You know why I requested your advice, my liege," she said.

He nodded.  "And because Underhill lies divorced from your time and space, you seek refuge.  Knowing you, not just for you and your mate, but for as many as you can save."

She bowed again.  "Aye, my liege."

The powerful Elf-lord pondered her.  "That is a chancy undertaking.  Two, we can bring at any time.  Half a dozen even.  But more?  That would require...many ships.  As of the time of the Dymchurch Flit.  I am not certain we can do this, at least, not in time..."

"But you will try?" she begged.

He bowed his head.  "But we will try.  We will send you word when we have—unless the rescue is to come at the last minute.  And in that case, your world will collapse from recent time to past.  We will come to the earliest time you and yours can reach."

"Cimerora?"

He nodded.  "The same.  If—and I think it will be—we must spellcast to the very last moment, it will be from Cimerora that the fleet will sail.  And...there will be a cost.  To you, and your mate, for you are the ones that asked.  Magic always has a cost, and this is great magic indeed that we will attempt."

She already knew what Red would say, because he had said it.

"Magic always has a price.  He'll tell you that, he taught you.  Tell him we'll pay it."

There had been no question, really, not for her.  And, it seemed, not for him either.  "No matter what it is?"

"No matter what it is.   Could be everything, could be our minds, souls, whatever, but we'll do it anyway, 'cause we're big goddamn heroes."

"We'll pay it," she said firmly. 

And Robin sighed, but smiled a little, as if this was what he had expected.   "Then assume it will take that long.  And look for us there."

               #

They were in City Hall when it happened.

The earth shook, vibrating the floor at their feet; then again, and again.  They'd felt it when the meteors hit Galaxy City; they knew what it was.  This was it; this was the moment.  Red knew, from talking to Vickie, that he and she could escape at any time.  He'd refused, as she'd known he would—as, really, she had already chosen.  There were three months of trying to defend the helpless before them.  No one knew what the aftermath of this collapse would be.  There might be survivors.  Matter and energy cannot be destroyed.  They would save as many as they could, while they could.

And while they continued to try to protect the innocent from a world gone increasingly mad, they had told others.  When the end comes, get to Cimerora.  They didn't promise anything more than that, but some heard, it gave them hope, and they stayed.

Now the end was here.  As the ground shook and the pavement buckled, as people began to scream, and a terrible rumbling nearly threw them to their knees, Red looked at Vickie.  He mouthed one word.  She couldn't hear it, but she knew what it was.

"Run!"

They ran.  Out of City Hall, across Atlas Park, heading for the tunnel and Steel Canyon, running as fast as they could.  No chancing flying, not with debris and giant rocks crashing everywhere.  The Tunnel would probably hold—

It did.  They ran out into further hell in Steel.  Red was pushing buttons on his comm as they ran; she did the same.  It was an alert to everyone they had told in the past three months, get to Cimerora. 

Smoke and heat wreathed them, and the ground heaved and buckled under their feet.  They were joined by others, running, running, coughing and crying and running.  Debris rained down as skyscrapers were punched through by flaming balls of matter.  The city was on fire and the sky wept rocks and blood.  And still they ran.

The glow of domes of magic shielding told them that the Midnighter Club was still standing, and the sight gave strength to their stumbling feet.  They ran, pouring in through the door, racing up the stairs to the portal-stone that would take them far into the past.  To salvation?  Or just to a more-delayed-death?

They passed the stone, and were through and into a new hell of fire and smoke.  Cimerora was already aflame.  And so they ran again, desperately, a thin river of people fleeing from terror to a thin sliver of hope.

And then their stumbling feet brought them to the docks.  Docks at which there were sinking, dying ships...and no sign of life.

They peered into the fog and smoke and saw...nothing.  Vickie turned to Red and clung to him, hiding her face in his chest as his arms tightened despairingly around her.  She didn't want to see.  When the end came...she wanted to be aware only of him.  She sobbed into his chest and clung to him.  They had come to the end.  The Void would take them, and leave behind nothing of what they had been.

And then, she felt his chest heave.  Felt his arms tighten even more around her.  Heard him shout.

"The ships!" he shouted.  "The ships!"

She turned her head so quickly that her tears were flung away from her eyes.  And there they were, sails emerging from the smoke and fog.  The ships.  The Elven Ships.  Come to take them away.

                  #

They were the last ones on, helping the wounded, carrying those who had collapsed.  The last ones on the last ship.  And rather than standing in the prow as some of the others were, looking ahead, Vickie looked back—and watched the world burning.

She began to cry again, this time crying for all the things she—they—hadn't done.  So much left unfinished—

"Dammit!" she wept and buried her face in her hands as Red put one hand around her shoulders and held her.  "Dammit, it's not fair!  We weren't done yet!"

But he only squeezed her shoulder.  "We're not done now. We're never done. There's always another fight."

And then, gently, he turned her to face forward.  Ahead of them the sea was like glass,  Their ship had taken the lead, her white sails full with an enchanted wind that blew away the stench of smoke and fear and death, and left behind only the clean scent of the ocean.  Night had fallen while they ran for their lives, and now they sailed under a tranquil sky, with no sign of the carnage they had left behind. 

There was no sound but the soft lapping of waves on the water, and the wind in the sails.  Those who were hurt lay on the deck, curled in enchanted, healing sleep.  The rest gazed ahead, wearily, or hopefully.

The moon lay ahead of them, turning the water into a silver path.  And although she had felt as if her heart was about to break...his arm around her comforted her, and reminded her that they were still alive.  And if they had not been able to save everyone, they had saved some. 

White gulls flew over their heads, calling, calling.  Tears filled her eyes again, and slipped down her cheeks, tears for the ones they could not save, tears for the ones left behind.

"Shh," he said, a gentle hand brushing the tears from her face.  "Shh."

And so they passed into the west.

[LadyImmolatasia]

Late reading this, but excellently done and very enjoyable.  :)

[Heroid]

I watched the movie and now I've read the book.

Beautiful.  Thank you.

[johnrobey]

I only just now found this and read this 'cause well I am not exactly up to the minute on a lot of things.  Thank you, V.V., for writing and posting this.  I very much enjoyed reading Into The West.