STEAM RISES from the blood and the flesh as the snow falls. A natural blanket of quiet intensifies the sound of humanity. The battlefield is inundated with emotion. Fear, grief, anger, relief, and, at last, joy. Over the bodies of the dead and dying, amidst the horror and heartbreak, there are reunions. Marchers and sinners alike who had been taken prisoner, embrace those who have come to their rescue, some family members and friends thought long dead. Cries of surprise and disbelief echo through the ring as lost children and orphans find mothers, fathers, sisters, and brothers. Tears of sadness and tears of joy may look the same, but they are by no means kin. One stings. The other cleanses.
Those orphans who have found no family waiting for them in the ninth ring discover instead a silent comfort with their ferrymen protectors and are content to help keep watch over the captured Kingdom Guards and the Sisters of GOD, who were tied to the orchard trees during the battle.
Rossa walks around the battlefield with Claire, Key, and Cayden, seeing to the wounded, comforting those in their final minutes. There are tears, but there is also pride to be seen in those who are dying. Others are being told of the grievances done against their friends and family while they have been imprisoned. Tully holds on to Madden fiercely as Gemma’s death is explained to him by Lorien; Duncan tells Lawl of the death of his beloved aunt, Gran.
SENATOR GENERAL Hegart hears all of the words as echoes spoken around him as he lies dying. They pass through his ears like wind through a tunnel. Above him, he sees a sky heavy with orange clouds. They are moving, falling. Large snowflakes fall onto his eyes, blurring his vision. This is a dream, this has all got to be a dream.
He rages in and out of consciousness. He sees the mindless nurses surround him, and he is lifted. He is being carried. Yes. Deirdre will fix him. She will care for him. And once he has recovered, he will smash the world. He will rape it. He will be the fiercest of all the gods. The sky turns red in his anger, and he faints away once more.
Then he is awake again, but fastened to a bed in the hospital. He is confused. Hegart tries to escape the restraints, but he cannot move so much as finger. He tries to say something but cannot speak. The nurses mill about him like worker ants.
He realizes then in a shock of blinding ice fear, The bitch has paralyzed me.
As if called, the doctress steps into view. She is smiling, and that unnerves him. She is smiling. “Now,” she says, “now we are even, sweetie pie.”
She is fastening the straps on his arms and his legs, as if he could still somehow climb out of this paralysis.
“A precaution,” she says. “You can never be too careful with the dregs that are brought in here. You told me that many, many years ago.” She says something to a nurse, then returns her attention to him. “We’re going to fix you right up, even without the Power of GOD to help us. Yes. It seems the Immortal City has at last fallen, and GOD’s Tower with it. But don’t you worry. I know what a masculine fellow you are, not afraid of a little pain.” She winks. “You will live. I intended to lobotomize you when you were brought up here, but I think not now. No. It’s best you keep all your faculties, your sharp wit, your plotting mind. Only you will not have the body, the freedom, to act on these grand machinations. You will be quite incapacitated, Hegart. I, on the other hand, am leaving the ninth ring… for good. Most people are, so you will be quite alone. But I am not heartless. I plan on leaving you in the care of these fine nurses.”
A large nurse behind Deirdre stares at him, unflinching. Her brain-dead eyes show a flash of manic soul.
Deirdre’s smile fades, and she leans in close to his face. “I want you to feel each hunger pang individually as you slowly starve to death. The nurses will keep you alive so long as they themselves have nourishment, but once that runs out…” She shrugs. “They too will either flee this place, leaving you here to decay with it, or they might just start snacking on you. Who’s to say, really?”
She pulls up. “And one more thing. We’re going to take those nasty teeth out as well. You won’t need them anymore. And I’m sorry to tell you, but we are fresh out of any anesthesia for any of this.”
Blinding white ice.
She disappears from his view like the fading sun to be replaced by the large angry nurse holding a pair of fang-like retractors. Hegart is screaming at the doctress. His mind is a frenzied, pleading mess.
IN THE Thorn Fields, Duncan sits back on the ground, holding on to his ankles as he waits for Lawl to respond. They have been there for some time. Duncan has told him everything now. He can do little else but anticipate the fury and hope for clemency.
The air around Gran’s grave is as sharp as the thorns and thistles. The snow has stopped falling. It lies two inches deep on the ground. Lawl sits beside the grave on folded knees, his back to Duncan. Not a word has been spoken between the two since Duncan told him how he betrayed Gran. Every silent second is torture. He did not make excuses, for what good would they have done? Hurt is hurt, betrayal is betrayal. But love… love is stronger.
“Ya need to give him time,” says Gran. She has been sitting beside Duncan, mostly quiet. He is not surprised she is there. He has come to accept that in this new world, dream and reality now swap places on a daily basis.
Duncan gives her a sideways glance and smiles. “Ya look good, Gran.”
She is younger now, vibrant. The silver in her hair is more affectation than age.
“Aye, I do.” She is sweet. Her eyes absolve him. “And I be free.”
“Are we all crazy?” he says. “The whole world sees the dead walkin’ around, talkin’ at them. Have we all been driven insane?”
“Naw. Quite the opposite, in fact. The world is just now startin’ to wake up and see things correctly, more fully. Nothin’ is impossible. The world becomes…”
“Vivid.”
“Aye. Vivid.”
They sit in stillness for a while longer, and then something remarkable happens. The sky above them fades, but clears. The ever-hanging clouds depart, their orange tint fading to yellow then dust pink then a remarkable deep blue. And there are stars. Bright, bright stars. Duncan, embracing his knees now, watches the beautiful aerial clearing with glassy eyes.
“Look,” he says to Lawl in a slight whisper of wonderment, as if speaking too loud would scare them away. “Look at the stars, Lawl.”
Lawl has seen them. He is now looking over his shoulder at Duncan. His face is lighted by the moon. It is not a hard and angry face, but gentle. He stands and walks to Duncan, holding out his hand.