She fell over on her side. With her eyes half-open she could see the rider gallop down to the bridgehead and rein in her horse at the bridge that was now again broken. Behind her a pack of Lightning Bears was coming in off the glacier.
It now seemed for a little while that the world consisted entirely of noise. She had heard many loud noises of late, what with all of the Evertempest’s thunder and the clamorous boulder duel between El and the Chasmian. Those were but clicks and whispers compared to the sound that came now from the direction of the Fastness. It was so loud that it startled El, and the rider across the gorge, and her Lightning Bears. Prim, before her vision dissolved into chaos, had at least the satisfaction of seeing El turn around, and astonishment come over him. It was such a distinct reaction that she had to turn her head and see what he was seeing: the Fastness unbound, its iron dome rocking from side to side where it had been shrugged off, and chains and hasps still avalanching down all round it. Perched on the top of the castle was a figure nearly as great as the Chasmian, but of human form.
Or so it seemed until it spread its wings.
Egdod saw at once that the tempest he had laid over the Knot in ancient times had served its purpose and was no longer of use to him, and so with a wave of his hand he stilled it. In the calm air that followed he spread his wings and took flight, but glided only a short distance to the top of the stone anvil, where Sophia lay dying. He took her dissolving form up into his arms as a mother takes up a baby, and gathered her into his chest.
“Once again our time together is all too brief,” said Sophia to Egdod, though she had lost the power of forming words and could only speak through the connection of their auras.
“The sweeter for that,” Egdod returned. “Know that your sacrifice was not in vain. The Quest is complete.”
“Edda will need rest,” she said, her aura growing very faint.
“She has come to a good place for resting,” said Egdod, “as have you.”
Then the thread of her life was severed.
The sun had now erupted through the broken wall of clouds. It was not the only source of light. El had stood astonished for some while at the sight of the lock opened, the Fastness unbound, and Egdod free in the Land. Now he forsook the form of an ordinary soul walking. He rose into the air and made himself as large as Egdod, that the two of them might converse as beings of equal stature. He grew as well in brilliance, shining with a golden light as that of the sun. Egdod for his part seemed content with the form he had taken at the time of the Fall, which was as dark as the Firmament into which he and the other members of the Pantheon had been projected. For some while neither he nor El spoke. Both were marshaling their forces. Behind El, opposing sides of the Chasm had gone into movement, thickening and bending toward each other. When those two sides touched they would form an arch a hundred times broader than the old bridge. Waiting on its opposite side were Spring upon her mount, and her escort of bears; and behind them marching in a long file down the Shifting Path were legions of Dug she had summoned to arms.
Seeing this El laughed in Egdod’s face. “Shall you and I trifle further about the bridge? You can build it up and I can throw it down for the next thousand years.”
Egdod responded, “I am taking no action in the matter. The changes you see are the work of another who has an interest in such things.” And he looked back toward the Fastness. Atop its highest tower a hooded figure stood, extending his arms and sending forth his power. Besides Pluto, others could be seen now too: Love below on the steps, tending to Edda, who lay spent next to the open lock. Freewander darting high and Thingor limping along the battlements, directing the work of other souls who seemed to be emerging in force from the depths of it, and War marshaling formations of armed and armored souls pouring forth out of chaos from the Firmament, moving in synchrony with wild musics emanating from Pan and an orchestra of music-making souls that Pan had drawn up along a high parapet.
“It is of no account whether your hand or Pluto’s shapes the bridge,” El said. “Even when I walked over the Stormland in the guise of an ordinary soul, alone and unarmed, I swept away Dug like so many insects, and the worst assaults of the Lightning Bears were mere diversions to me. The Chasmian that Spring made to greet me at your front door was a greater foe, I will admit; but it lies broken at the bottom of yonder gorge, and when it climbs out I shall break it again. Only Sophia had power against me; and I can see that she is no more.”
Egdod held out his right hand. Cupped in it was a tiny knot of aura. “That is saying too much,” he answered.
“We may also trifle over words,” said El, “but to put it plainly, your plan has failed.”
“My plan,” said Egdod, “is still unfolding. Pent up for so long in the Fastness, I have learned patience. It is a faculty you have lost, ruling the Land from your high Palace where all things come quickly, and you confuse delay with failure.”
Their sparring lapsed for some time as many things were happening all round. Above the glacier opposite, a giant raven could be seen wheeling over the vanguard of the Dug army, showing them the way. The farther they advanced, the broader their front became, as they found that the narrow path had swelled to a broad road. Pluto was healing the cracked glacier beneath their feet, mending the crevasses that since ancient times had always threatened to swallow unwary travelers. Their swiftest scouts were even now reaching the bridgehead. This was developing a green tinge as plants of various kinds erupted from what had long been barren ground. The two sides of the Chasm had extended to where they nearly touched above the center of the gorge. Vines and roots had already reached across the gap.
But El had legions of his own. His angels, long held at bay by the Evertempest, must have issued forth from the Palace at the moment the key had entered the lock and undone the gate of the Fastness. On swift wings they had covered the distance from Pinnacle to Knot as Sophia had expired and Pluto had reshaped the Land and Thingor had begun his works upon the battlements. Now they were beginning to appear, in ones and twos and soon enough in echelons, in the clear sky above. Their bright swords they kept sheathed for now. The only unsheathed weapon in the whole scene was in the hand of winged War, who had emerged from the Fastness after Egdod, and drawn Burr’s angel sword out of the earth where it had stuck. He looked a match for any ten angels. But above were already more than ten, and soon there would be hundreds.
Horns were blowing and hooves beating the earth to the north and west. A battle flag appeared over the crest of a ridge on the other side of the Chasm. Next came a row of lances whose sharp edges gleamed in the light of the sun. It was a regiment of Autochthon cavalry on their mounts, and at its head was a woman whose long yellow hair streamed like a pennant from beneath her bright helm: Sooth of El. They must have been summoned days ago through the weird emanations of the Hive, and ridden to this place.
In this way did the armies of El converge toward the Fastness, and it had to be admitted that in their speed, their number, and their beauty they made the opposition seem feeble and disarrayed. It was only the towering form of Egdod himself, standing upon the stone anvil with the tiny ball of aura cupped in his hand, that could give any hope whatever to those who rejoiced at his return.
The hoofbeats of a solitary mount traversed the Anvil Plain from the direction of the bridge. War flourished his sword in salute and bowed low to Spring as she galloped past him. Egdod gazed down on her approach with a face that showed sorrow and joy. But knowing that the eyes of El and many others were upon him he spoke brusquely, and not to Spring but to Freewander, who was dipping and wheeling about him: “Show her where to form up.”