Heartlight (10 page)

From the depths of space rose the whiplike tail, into which so much negativity had been squeezed that it could shatter any solid target or cancel out any light. Curling itself tightly, the tail lashed out at the butterfly.

Morpheus abruptly changed course and dove behind a floating blue crystal as big as an office building.

With a loud crackling, the deadly tail uncoiled, smashing directly into the crystal. Fragments flew in all directions, and the sound of the explosion reverberated throughout the realm of Trethoniel.

For an instant, Morpheus was unable to see any sign of The Darkness through the dust and remnants of the crystal. Still wincing from the shock of the impact, he could only discern the swath of impenetrable blackness left behind by the tail. No stars could be seen there, as if a slice of the sky had simply been erased. He knew that the evil energy of this dark creature could damage—if not destroy—Kate’s heartlight.

Like a tiny hummingbird buzzing a giant serpent, Morpheus attacked the creature with all his fury. He dove and darted, spun and soared, occasionally piercing the edges of The Darkness but never inflicting any damage. Every few seconds the tail would coil like a deadly spring and strike, eliminating all the light in its path.

The brave butterfly tried to attack the electric red eye—which seemed to be the center of the creature’s intelligence—but the violent swings of the tail kept him at bay. At one point, the dark mass near the eye suddenly grew lighter and more transparent. Through the swirling blackness, Morpheus glimpsed the form of a small girl.

“Kate!” he cried, and some of his flagging strength returned.

Instantly, Morpheus climbed higher until he was well out of range of the terrible tail. For a moment he circled and then, suddenly, he careened sharply and soared like a missile directly at the red eye.

The great tail held itself completely motionless. Whether out of confusion or design, The Darkness did nothing to remove itself from the path of its attacker.

Although his instinct warned him to beware of a trap, Morpheus did not alter his collision course with the motionless target. Faster than light itself he flew, bearing down on the sizzling center of the red eye.

Then, just as Morpheus approached, from the center of the eye there blew forth a terrible cloud of darkness so thick that no light could possibly penetrate. Trying desperately to avoid it, the butterfly veered upward.

Too late! A blanket of blackness descended over him. It was dark, as a black hole is dark, and cold, as death is cold.

“I can’t see anything!” Morpheus cried, his eyes stinging with pain, as he fought to keep his bearings. Concentrated anti-light pressed against his wings with such force he could barely keep them moving.

At that very instant, the deadly tail coiled to strike at the tiny creature trapped within the black cloud.

Craaaack!
A powerful explosion of negative energy and red lightning burst across the starscape as Morpheus forced his way out of the cloud and shot directly into the red eye.

The Darkness recoiled in pain. As it did so, it began to dissipate. For an instant, Kate was visible again amidst the billowing folds of blackness.

Swiftly, Morpheus dove into the parting veil and careened to a halt beside her. “Grab on!” he cried.

She reached to him, even as The Darkness started to close again around them both.

“Grab on!”

As she wrapped her arms around Morpheus’ neck, she felt something touch her leg from below. A thin and wiry tentacle, reaching out from the dark mass, began to tighten its grip around her leg.

“No!” Kate screamed. “Something’s pulling me back!”

With all his strength, Morpheus tried to pull her upward. Slowly, he lifted her a small distance out of The Darkness, even as its folds gathered about them like enormous jaws. But the tentacle wrapped around her leg still more tightly and drew her down again.

“I’m losing my grip! Oh—Morpheus!” Kate’s hands broke free of the butterfly and she was dragged downward.

Instantly, Morpheus wheeled around and dove beneath her. With a flash of his great wing, he sliced cleanly through the thin tentacle and caught Kate on his back. They shot straight out of The Darkness just as it came closing down behind them like a crashing wave.

“Thank you, thank you,” she whispered, hugging the broad back of the butterfly as they whizzed away.

“We aren’t free yet!” The wings of Morpheus whirred with all their power.

Sizzling with rage, the injured eye of The Darkness pulsed with pain. The tail lashed out, sweeping away the starlight in its path.

Morpheus swerved immediately before the tail whipped past. But its edge glanced against his wing—and the force of the blow sent him reeling. Kate was instantly thrown off his back and started tumbling through space, as the butterfly spun out of control.

“Help!” she screamed, suddenly robbed of her safety. “I’m falling!”

Downward she plummeted, drawn by the gravity of the white planet orbiting below. As she entered its thick atmosphere, she was pursued ever more closely by The Darkness, its red eye seething with desire. The writhing mass stretched toward her, groping, groping.

“No!” she screamed, seeing the shadowy shape approaching from above. “Noooo—”

Her scream was interrupted as she struck the side of a steeply sloping wall of snow and ice rising eighty thousand feet above the mountainous surface of the planet. Her free-fall now became a brutal terror as she rolled and bounced down the ridge of snow, like a tiny pebble thrown over a cliff.

Craaaack!

A great burst of negative electricity filled the sky with red lightning as the terrible tail smashed against the ridge above her. Slamming into the mountain like a gigantic meteor, the tail broke loose an icy cornice and dislodged a tremendous wall of snow.

With a deafening roar, huge islands of white began to cascade down the mountainside, gathering crushing momentum as they fell. Thousands of tons tumbled together into a churning sea of snow, sending a billowing white cloud high into the atmosphere. The roar of the avalanche rocked the mountain to its roots.

As swiftly as it had started, the thunderous cascade came to an end. The mass of snow settled, shifted once with a grinding lurch, then froze into place. But for the gentle wisps of white still hanging in the air, there was no sign of any violence, no sound but the steady sweep of wind across the virgin valleys. It looked as if this world of silent, snowy pinnacles had never been disturbed, by even so much as a footprint, for millions upon millions of years.

VI: The Cocoon

Suddenly, the world turned white.

All the sensations of the past few seconds whirled around in Kate’s head: the first scrape of cold snow on her arms; the feeling of falling down a bottomless slide, bouncing and somersaulting with terrifying speed; the dark cracks that snaked swiftly across the slope; the wall of snow rising above her, pushing her ever faster until, like a breaking wave, it collapsed over her, tossing and tearing at her helpless form; and, throughout, the thunderous roar of the avalanche.

Now all was still. All except the thunder, which continued to drum in her ears. She shuddered at the memory of the dark form reaching to grab her—and that horrible eye, seething and sizzling like a whirlpool of red lightning.

She struggled to lower her hands, which had instinctively covered her face as the wave of snow crashed over her. But she could only move with great effort inside her tight cocoon. She wriggled and squirmed and finally succeeded in creating a small space around her head.

A feeling as cold as the snow surrounding her slowly seeped into her consciousness.
I’m trapped! I’ll never find Grandfather now!

Kate felt limp, tired, and helpless.

Then the image of Morpheus, battling gallantly to save her, came into her mind. Perhaps he could help her again! She concentrated her thoughts on the great flashing wings.

“I’m here!” she called. “Can you hear me?”

No answer penetrated the darkness. No movement. No sound.

She gathered her energy and continued to try. “Morpheus!” she called. “Morpheus . . . Can you hear me?”

Still no answer. Only a dull, distant feeling of pain and loss.

Maybe I can dig myself out! Then Morpheus can find me!
She shivered, from more than the cold. The dark creature too would be waiting to find her.

With a sideways twist, she managed to free her shoulders slightly. A growing need to rest, to sleep, rose inside her, but she resisted it. Again she twisted, and again her tomb of snow loosened its grip a few degrees, but no more. The tips of her fingers began to ache with cold.

She paused, allowing her limbs to relax. Her heart was pounding, and it seemed somehow to be beating louder than it had since she had left Grandfather’s lab. Perhaps this chamber of snow was magnifying the sound? A sudden flash of memory recalled the smothering red glow inside The Darkness, and she released a cry of pain.

Her heart pounded even louder, and she struggled to regain her composure—and not to panic.
There’s no red glow in here . . . only snow. Lots of snow. I can still dig myself out. It doesn’t matter how long it takes. I’m made of heartlight. I can’t freeze to death.

She swallowed her fears and forced herself to think. First she must figure out which way is up. Otherwise she might dig in the wrong direction.

A wave of uncertainty washed over her. If only she could see . . .

Then an idea flashed in the darkness.
I don’t need to see! All I need is gravity. That’s it, gravity!

Pleased with her own ingenuity, Kate hatched a plan. With considerable effort, she pushed away enough snow to create a large cavity around her head and chest. She placed one hand in front of her face and, with a hearty ptttew!, spit a stream of saliva into her palm.
Whichever way it rolls, I’ll dig in the opposite direction.

Slowly, she felt the liquid gather and begin to trickle . . . up her fingers, away from her palm. With satisfaction, she knew that the avalanche had left her upside down. Before she could dig herself out, she must turn around.

Then an icy tremor shook her to the core.

Her hand! What was happening to it?

With frightening swiftness, her hand grew stiff, like wood, and deeply chilled. She tried to squeeze it into a fist, but the base of her fingers had hardened so much that she couldn’t bend them. In the darkness, she slid her other hand next to the afflicted one. As her fingertips reached out to touch the stiffened palm, they struck an icy, frozen surface, a surface that had lost its sense of touch.

I’m freezing!
she realized, in shock and confusion.

She twisted violently, trying to draw her knees into her chest. They felt heavy and numb.

What was happening? How could this be . . . unless . . .

She reached in the darkness to touch her butterfly ring.

Gone!

Tears, real tears, began to well up in Kate’s eyes as she realized that somewhere in the vast mountain of snow squeezing her from all sides was her precious ring. What had Morpheus said would befall her if she ever lost it?
Certain death—vaporized by the tires of a star, suffocated by some poisonous atmosphere, or instantly frozen . . .

Frozen! Is that how this quest was to end?

Remorse deeper than the snows of this frozen planet suddenly fell upon her. Grandfather will feel as if he killed her, blaming himself for everything. But she did it to herself! Why did she ever think she could find him in the first place? She should never have left the lab . . . She should have let that ghost take the ring! Then it might be the ghost who ended up getting buried alive on some faraway planet . . .

She tried to flex her legs and arms, if only to keep the circulation moving. A deep, dull sensation of heaviness was moving through every cell of her body. She shivered uncontrollably and her teeth began to chatter. Her entire body felt increasingly numb.

And cold, cold!

Kate’s eyes felt heavy, and she let them fall closed for an instant. Sleep would feel so good, so peaceful . . . would save her energy for later . . . would give her the rest she deserved . . .

No! I must not sleep. That would be the easy way out. It would be suicide. Maybe Morpheus is digging for me this very second.

She listened for any sounds at all. The only thing she could hear was the pounding of her heart, her true heart, inside her small body. The beating was still there, but slower, more subdued. She listened for a while to the rhythmic pulsing, which made her feel drowsy again. Her eyelids drooped heavily.

A strange sense of calm began to envelop her. Instead of alarm, she felt only weariness. Instead of anger, she felt only sorrow. How sad never to see Grandfather again, nor to run with Cumberland again, nor to sing favorite songs with Dad again. How sad never again to smell the aroma of Mom’s bread baking in the kitchen, never again to see the great wings of Morpheus flash in the starlight, never again to hear the music of Trethoniel . . .

Suddenly her body shivered with a tremor of cold, and this reawakened her.
How can I fight off this sleep?
raced her thoughts.
It’s getting harder and harder. I can’t stay awake much longer.

Then some words and music from a faraway time and place drifted back to her, echoing in her mind as they had once echoed in a tiny room on a distant planet:

All praise to thee my Lord this night,
For all the blessings of thy light.

Another spasm of chills shot through her. She mustered all of her remaining strength and forced herself to dig, using her throbbing hands as shovels. Slowly, she loosened enough of the snow to turn her body around, then started to work her way upward. And as she worked, Kate began to sing again, as loudly as she could.

Keep me, O keep me, King of Kings . . .

She pressed her numbing fingers against her unfeeling cheeks as her teeth chattered through the words
King of Kings.

Beneath . . . thine own . . . almighty wings . . .

She continued to dig, handful by handful, stopping only to push her hands into her armpits for a touch of warmth. But the feeling had left them, and soon they felt no more alive than trowels made of metal. Wearily, she pressed on, digging, digging.