"Something Von Kempelen wants."
"For the experiment?"
"Yes."
"And after you've got it?"
"Back to America."
"Where?"
"I'm not certain yet. Somewhere up north, I believe."
"Where in London are you headed?"
"I haven't an address. But... ."
"What?"
"I've a feeling we shall not meet there. Something else looms before you. I see its cloud. That's all."
"A man can only try."
"You've striven harder than most."
"I love you, Annie. Even though it was born of the artifice of a lonely little girl looking for playmates."
"My brushwood boy..." she said, and I felt her hand touch my hair. "I could not have found you had the need and the capacity not been in you, also."
We sat in silence for a time, and then I felt her presence weaken.
"I'm getting tired, Eddie."
"I know. I wish the Red Death had been a little more enterprising when it came to your companions."
"Templeton protected them," she said, "as you and your companion were protected by the remarkable lady who released the force which drives your coach."
I wanted her to stay with me forever, but I bade her good night. Then the real dreams came on—burning bodies hanging from a chandelier, people screaming, a bleeding ape, a walking corpse... .
"Damn it Eddie damn it Eddie damn it Eddie."
I opened my eyes. Grip was perched on my shoulder, calling my attention to a luscious show of pinks and oranges which had begun in the east.
"I'll take over now, Peters," I said. "You rest."
He passed me the reins and nodded. Grip moved over to his shoulder.
"Damn it Peters damn it Peters damn it Peters... ."
We passed many neglected farms, their fields blooming with a spring growth of weeds. We paused at one point and gathered food from the cellar and store house of a farm whose owners had either died of the plague or fled the country. Our nameless steed seemed barely winded, and when I placed my hand upon him he did not feel heated. The only change I noted in him from his first appearance back at Montresor's home was a certain odd, rumpled quality to his hair and mane, as of a garment losing its hem, in the first stages of unravelment.
We rode on, Ligeia directing us to a road that followed a river downstream. It took us through a region of dark tarns and bleak woodlands. Once more—possibly twice—during this phase of our journey I thought that I felt Poe's presence. But it was gone quickly, without communication.
That afternoon we came to a hill—overlooking Barcelona, so Ligeia informed me. I had come to enjoy our unnatural speed, to the point where I wished there were time simply to ride that magnificent beast for pleasure. He was looking more and more tattered, however—large chunks of his hair blowing away with almost every pace, every breeze.
Grip came flying back from what appeared to be a harbor area.
"Damn it Guy damn it Guy damn it Guy," he announced brightly.
I heaved a heavy sigh.
"I think he's spotted the Eidolon," I said loudly.
"Follow him," Ligeia directed, and I did.
We made our way down into the town. The streets were largely deserted, though I could hear sounds of activity at either hand, and I could see people through the windows of shops and residences. There were a few on the streets, also, hurrying, and they tended to converse over a distance. I'd a feeling the worst of it could have passed here, leaving no one in a hurry to resume face-to-face sociability.
We turned a corner and much of our horse's tail was whipped away by a sudden gust of wind. Only a single strand remained where it had depended. When we were nearly to the bottom of the long slope we had been descending, one of his ears vanished, along with much of his mane. Turning upon a welltended road which followed the waterfront, I was amazed to see that the animal's hindquarters appeared to be narrowing visibly with every few steps that he took. Looking downward, I was puzzled to see that he was treading upon what appeared to be a long strand of his own hair, a thing which seemed to emerge continuously from his own person. Looking back, I saw that it extended behind us back to the most recent corner we had turned.
I was about to petition Ligeia for advice, when a barrel came rolling down a hilly sidestreet, escaped from a pair of men who were loading a cart up that way.
For the first time, our steed was distracted. As if aware of his diminished condition, he turned his frayed head in the direction of the oncoming barrel. For the first (and last) time, also, he uttered a strange sound—a half-neighed bellow, which sounded as if it rolled and echoed its way to us from a great distance, off peaks and down mountain passes. Suddenly then, he was galloping. Whatever force it was that had moved him at supernatural velocities earlier, it came over him once again. Ships, piers, waterfront buildings became a blur. And the horse before me began to dissolve. Soon he was the size of a Shetland pony, though much more irregular in outline. Yet his strength held, despite the diminishment in stature; and we rushed through the harbor at a terrible pace. Soon it was as if a large dog drew our coach, a small one, an unwinding shadow. Then, realizing its plight, the shrunken creature reared, emitting a small, trumpet-like note. The coach passed over it. I looked back and all that I saw was a piece of string lying in the street. I drew hard upon the brake, but it did not slow us. Peters reached over then and pushed my hand away. He drew back upon the lever meant to restrain a wheel. Feet braced against the board, he pulled. His shirtsleeve was torn by his expanding biceps and a smell of smoke rose from below. But we began to slow.
It was fortunate that traffic was very light. We halted near to a stack of crates, piers to our left, gray gulls swooping and calling. Peters released his grip by degrees, raised his arm slowly then and pointed.
"There be the Eidolon, Eddie. The beasty did a good job o' gettin' us where we was goin'."
As we were climbing to the ground, I overheard Ligeia mutter, "Pax vobiscum, Metzengerstein."
Later, as Peters and I were unloading Valdemar and a few other items, and crewmen were coming in our direction from the ship to assist in their transport, I happened to glance skyward. My gaze was taken by a cloud formed in the distinct colossal figure of a horse, of an unnatural color.
I told Captain Guy to set sail immediately for England, and that I would brief him as soon as we were underway as to the exact state of our affairs. The three of us ate a quick light meal while we were casting off, and I quaffed a brandy afterwards which caused everyone who passed to stare as if waiting for me to fall over. Then I headed back to my cabin where I washed the dust of the road from me. Afterward, I made the mistake of stretching out on the bed for a moment.
I was awakened by a terrible pitching and rolling of the vessel. I finally stirred myself, drew on my garments and went topside briefly. I watched the storm and the flow of shipped waves but a few moments. Then I returned below and managed to locate Peters. I had slept for over twelve hours, he told me, though the storm had begun but recently.
Bad weather dogged us out of the Mediterranean, and when we attempted a northward course to England a fresh storm descended upon us, of greater ferocity than anything encountered earlier. Since no headway could be made we simply prepared to ride it out. We were blown far out to sea, however, and it was three days before the storm let up. When it did, considerable pumping and repair was in order.
Whatever evil genius might rule this section of the sea, it seemed to have taken a particular dislike to ourselves. For no sooner had the Eidolon been restored to full serviceability than another storm broke upon us, driving us farther south. And this was the worst, by far, of them all, to that point. It bore us without letup into the Tropic of Cancer, equator-wards.