Phillips Harbour.
Thursday, October 29. Evening.
After their -- escape? -- from the watching Masters, the Players and Companions are not in a great hurry to light the Spirit Lamp again, or continue Shaft's experiments. Dr. Townes and Mr. Shaft brief Mr. Girard and his Companion on what they learned about the nature of the Game and the spirit world from the Unicorn. The latter two decide they'd like to speak to the Unicorn themselves.
This necessitates a trip to see Rae Mikkelsen; according to the others, she's the only person capable of finding the Unicorn. Rae didn't start the Game as a Player but, since finding the Unicorn, she has become convicted as an Opener and appears to have claimed the Unicorn as her Companion. Joining the Game after the 1st is without precedent, so far as Horus knows. He's not even sure Rae will be able to influence the Banefire properly. But for the moment, she's involved.
Rae's brother, Gustav, understandably refuses to let her go anywhere alone with Girard. So it is that the two Mikkelsense accompany the Frenchman and his falcon on a Unicorn hunt.
It took Rae several years to find her Unicorn the first time; it takes only an hour this evening. They are walking along a path between coniferous trees with Miss Mikkelsen in the lead, when the fair-haired young woman raises one hand, motioning for the others to stop. She takes several strides forward alone. A moment later, the unicorn melts into existence from between the trees. She is a delicate creature, a horse as slightly built as a deer, with a single horn rising from her forehead and one of the brightest auras Horus has ever seen: pure and simple and snow-white like her hide. Her eyes are the silver of mirrored glass. She bows her head to touch her muzzle to Rae's hand, as the woman watches her, enrapt. Then the unicorn turns her gaze to Horus and Girard. Her long white tail brushes the ground, but catches no dirt. She waits, patiently.
Behold Unicorn, Girard, Horus projects to his Companion alone, from the man's shoulder. Ancient and wise, once powerful beyond mortal ken. Though diminished in strength, her aura remains pure and white. Does her nature speak to you, Girard? Do you know her, even if you have never met her? Her's is a memory and concept longed for be mortals, but never reached. Horus then flutters his wings, puffing himself out ceremoniously before cocking his head to the side and bowing. Greetings, Unicorn. It has been ages, he greets the great white mare, so that all can hear his voice in their mind.
"I do," Girard says in a low whisper, struck silent by the apparition's appearance. The Unicorn lifts her head, staring at the falcon. She nudges Rae's shoulder gently, then steps past her to approach the Frenchman and his Companion. She pauses a foot away. After a long moment, she speaks in a clear, wordless language that even the humans have no difficulty understanding. Horus. Do you remember me, my young friend? You .... have not changed at all.
Though time diminishes all, the spirit of Unicorn remains like ancient wisdom in my mind, strong and relevant, Horus replies. To save I have not changed is not entirely accurate, for I have learned many secrets, and I have taken to modernisims. 'Better late than never,' I think, is accurate of out meeting. It almost sounds like an attempt at being jovial; Girard has never quite heard Horus display such friendliness. Not in that way, anyway. As for physical changes, I have wondered at my own state: it would seem that I am undiminished. A puzzle -- or perhaps riddle? The bird then stretches a wing, towards Girard. But I run when I must walk: this is Girard, my current apprentice in the arts.
The Unicorn bows her head to him in acknowledgement. The mortals here call me Kari. She returns her attention to Horus. But you are very little changed, in a world where all other spirits have fragmented and withered. How is that possible? Is that a true falcon you are bound inside, Horus? A dip of her head touches the tip of her horn to the edge of one wing.
It is. I live and die in a mortal shell, as the seasons turn, as the cycle concludes and begins again. Once summoned, I am bound, until the flesh does perish and I return to sleep, Horus answers. The bird's head tilts, and he peers at the Unicorn's horn in a manner that, of he had facial expressions, would be considering. Then, it would seem our kin have not sought refuge in the flesh of mortals ... Yes, I can see how maintaining an entirely spiritual manifest avatar would reduce us so, in a world devoid of sustanance. Momento mori, in corpus veritas.
Kari shakes her head. No, all the surviors taken refuge in the flesh. Without something to be bound to, be it living or inanimate, we perish quickly indeed -- within months. But you say that you are 'summoned'? How is this done? Do you not pass from one host to the next of your own accord?
Horus flutters his wings, fluffing himself up a bit before projecting, I am brought forth from another place, pulled from my sleep and placed within a shell. Such am I brought to this world, and such do I live. When my shell dies, I return to that other place, and sleep. The falcon glances at Girard, then bids, Girard, explain the nature of my summoning to Unicorn, that she may understand.
"Er." Girard clears his throat. "It's a bit complicated ... uh." He realizes how stupid it is to say that, and explains the various parts of the ritual to the Unicorn, who listens carefully. It involves, among other things, the sacrifice of a number of living animals, and must be timed with the hatching of a falcon's egg. The newly-hatched falcon becomes Horus's mortal form. "I've never actually done it myself, mind you," he adds. "I ... er. Acquired Horus from a sorceror who'd already summoned him." Gustav is watching them mistrustfully as he speaks, standing at his sister's side. Rae listens with less rancor, her hand resting lightly on the unicorn's flank.
How many times has this been done to you, Horus? the Unicorn asks, her mirror-bright eyes on the falcon. Her ears swivel, contemplative.
And so it is, Horus concludes. He sounds, well, solemnly neutral. As if someone had related the answer to a life-or-death password, or the alchemical ingredients to the philosopher's stone. Horus has been born and reborn so many times, his birthday's have become rather routine, if deeply magical. My presence is never without sacrifice; an important lesson. Know that the summoning has been attempted one hundred and twelve times. Not all were successful, and those lives were brief. Many were the men who desired power, but denied wisdom, and so too were did they and I pass quickly. Of others, few were wise and great. Though knowledge do I grant, and through it power, I make no choices for those who summon me. They live or die by their will alone, and so have many come to peril.
I see. You have always been a falcon, then? the unicorn asks. And have a falcon's lifespan, no more?
Many falcons have I been, with this form chief among them. I live a falcon's life, and then I pass on, answers Horus.
And of the time in between these incarnations, when you 'sleep' -- you remember nothing? Kari circles Girard and the falcon, on delicate hooves that move effortlessly around trees and bushes. You are young indeed for one of my kind. But your memory continues. You do not forget who you are, lost in the flesh?
Of the periods of sleep, I have no memory. A mortal man might liken it to true sleep, but I do not dream. Horus watches Kari, head rotating to follow her. I forget but little. I recall my incarnations, and pass on my knowledge to those who call me.
You were born a falcon, Kari says suddenly. You were born on this Earth. You had been conceived in the last world, but you did not take independent form until we crossed over. And when you did, you took a falcon's form, just as your mother had. Do you remember that?
Horus's gaze stops following Unicorn, and he turns his falcon's eyes skyward. Through the haze of time, I see, and remember. Know that in remembering, there is not understanding. What you say is known to me. Known, but not understood -- until now. The bird's chest rises as he takes a bretah, then he exhales, letting his feathers fluff out again. Know now, Girard, that I have a mother. The Frenchman can catch a muted awe in Horus's telepathtic voice, of mystery revealed, a vocal gasp. Though the falcon tells the man that he should know, it seems to him that it is really Horus who has just discovered something wonderful.
"Oh." Girard tries to imagine something giving birth to Horus. The mind boggles. "I guess everyone does, in the end."
Or in the beginning. The unicorn flicks her tail, her eyes kind. A Creator might be more apt. Your mother faded, I believe ... though it has been so long, and I have lost track of much. I would have said you faded by now; everyone has, changed and unrecognizable save we few who had been Masters once. And now you, who had not even been alive at the crossing. You may be the last new spirit born of us, for no new spirits were conceived in this land. We fragment and separate here; we do not make new life.
I will not forget you, Horus promises. Nor, do we intend to allow the passing of spirit from this world. Girard has chosen his path: we will Open, that we may breath new life upon the land and its spirits. We will Open, that the Masters be defeated. Horus's gaze returns to Unicorn, and he continues, As so have we come, to learn the nature of The Game, and of the Masters, that they might be thwarted and ourselves renewed.
The Unicorn dips her head, sorrowful. I know what you hope to do. I do not believe it is possible. To Open: yes. To renew the spirits of this world and prevent our inevitable passing into oblivion: yes. To defeat the Masters: no. You do not understand their power. None of you.
Rae Mikkelsen's blue eyes flash. "Zere must be a vay," she insists. "Vatever you say. I vill not give up hope. And even if it is impossible, it must still be done. Ve cannot let our souls die, no matter vat the cost. If all else in this vorld perishes -- it vould still be vorth the sacrifice."
You would trade painless oblivion for an eternity of enslavement to cruel Masters, Rae. Is Hell so much better than nothingness? the Unicorn asks, her wordless communication gentle.
"Zere iss a vay," Rae repeats. "You led our souls to freedom vonce. Ve can haf both."
The unicorn shakes her head. I am weak, she says softly. I do not want to die, either. Horus: the Game originated when we -- a small group of Master spirits who abhorred the practices of the majority -- discovered that our world passed in close proximity to this one. We planned an exodus of all the lesser spirits we could gather, and Opened the way when the time was right. When the others realized what we had done, they attempted to follow us, but we Closed the Portal before they could. Now, whenever the worlds are in proximity again, the Masters attempt to Open the way again and reclaim what they had lost. They are helped, and hindered, by the Players and Companions in this world. They have always failed. For millenia the Closers had a great ally in the Old Man, who ensured that it always Closed. But he is gone now, fallen or destroyed at last, I fear.
Direct force is not the only option, or wisest. Ages of human conflict have taught me something of conflict, of war. If their sword is great, than it is great against both us, and they. If they are prideful, then let us fuel their pride, that they might burn in folly. If the desire, let us make of their desire a trap. Power without wisdom leads to folly. The bird glances at Girard, hoping he has learned this lesosn by now. And, more so, hoping the Masters have not. Within this world is man, and within him potential. Artifice and the cunning of mortal men do rest in our sheath. A pause, and then, Tell me of the Old Man, Horus requests.
The Unicorn's ears swivel to Horus, as if catching the words of a mental voice, and she lifts her head. That is the Masters in a phrase: 'Power without wisdom', she says. The Old Man was one of us. One of the Masters who led the spirits here to freedom. He took a human shape, as I took a unicorn's, and made it an immortal form. That was within our power then, though it was not without cost. Everything we do in this land comes at a price. The Old Man never doubted that the Closing was necessary ... not as I have doubted, for many centuries. I think, in his time, he forgot some things. I spoke with him only a few score years ago, and I am not sure he remembered me. Or that he remembered himself, properly. It was always hard to tell with him; he kept so much close to himself, so secretive. Even with us.
And his existance is unknown. Would that he was here; the hour grows short, remarks Horus telepathically. Cocking his head to the side, the bird stares off in to the distance. Power without wisdom. This, then, may be our soveriegn strategy, our great plan. Know that the Masters who display as Sun and Storm do conflict. Perhaps in their rivary we will find salvation. Once, long ago, did a goddess offer an apple to the most beautiful. Vain, more than one goddess did reach for that apple, and so there was conflict. A lesson, and one we might use: if we cannot defeat them through strength, might we turn them upon each other?
Girard perks a bit. "That worked once, didn't it? At that first Opening, the lesser spirits had the help of some of the Masters, after all. Er, not that you were vain or unwise, great Lady," he says quickly to the unicorn in apology. "And they didn't look united now, either."
I fear I am both. The unicorn sounds amused, listening to the bird and his Player curiously.
Horus's head bobs. /It did. It may again, but we cannot have but one plan. Further, should the Masters come to conflict, there still must be a resolution: one may prevail, or they may bow before one. It is too much to hope that they will destroy themselves, or weaken to such a degree we migth best them. There must be more./ The falcon reaches a talon out, then gingerly tries to step on to Unicorn's horn. /I have come across an oddity, manifest only but recently: spirits who are as chimera. The Hill was one such, as if a ghost I have recently met. They are strong, stronger than they are sundered. A mortal man has devised an artifice to empower spirits in such a way. And so, might we partake of this most dangerous fruit. Might we gather upon one of us, the strength of those diminished? Set our clarion call to the winds, across the world, and draw the remnant unto one of us. Then, might one of us equal the Masters? If we are victorious, that one might split again, releasing its myrid souls healed and rene
... wed."
The unicorn dips her head to hold her horn level to the ground when Horus steps onto it. She makes no effort to keep her gaze on the falcon while he perches. Rae covers her mouth with one hand, trying not to giggle; even Gustav smiles. I have seen a number of these chimera. They trouble me; such unions are largely unhappy ones. They are difficult to unmake once made, as the parts cling to one another even in misery. Marseilles, the ghost-girl, cannot let go of what she has consumed, and it consumes her as well. To do so on such a scale ....
"You couldn't convince them to do it willingly," Girard says. "Not on that kind of scale, not with only two days left. You could trick them, maybe. What does it take to unite a spirit? Is it something you could do, Horus?"
They are combined in misery, are they not? By force, by trickery. But there is a more ancient unity among us, for we did we -- you -- not gather together once, to depart that other world? Can the old ties of unity not be pulled, drawning us together once more? Horus hops down Unicorn's horn, perching far enough down so that she needn't bow he head any further. Attempt: yes. Accomplish: I do not know. It has never been tried, its very idea is of a magnitude beyond comprehension and history. If they will not come, they may be tricked -- but of that, I have great concern. Would we be no better than the Masters? To exchange one malevolent overlord for another is not a boon.
"All right, good point. Try not to be worse than the disease. Right." Girard rubs his chin, grimacing at the stubble. "What would we need to do to contact that many? Some kind of astral summoning? Ugh. Isn't this sort of thing going to get the attention of all those astral devils that make the astral such a hideous place to be? I don't think those creatures can be reasoned with."
I know of no way to send out such a call, the Unicorn says. Which does not mean that such a way does not exist.
Rae clutches at the Unicorn's mane. "I do not vish to lose my soul into some ... veapon. Even if ve vent villingly. I am looking to safe us, not to trade one destruction vor another."
The Still Forest is such a communion, the Unicorn says. A union of spirits that works better than most. You might consult with them.
Horus, who has begun sorting Unicorn's hair in much the same way he's sorted Girard's in the past, answers. A beacon must be lit; the call must be clear. The type of call and the sort of beacon, that is the question. Once, not but hours ago, I beheld a beacon that called to me: an artifice in the shape of a lamp. A taker of pictures, or so I am told. Within it rests a light that casts a glow akin to our home. Within that light is a call, one even I, who has never seen our world, could hear. Amplified greatly, it might call out further. A lighthouse, perhaps, and ritual to strengthen its message. We would call the lost and shattered fragments, our kin who are dying, and those who would aid us. Horus pauses, looking up and over to Rae. Child, we would not gather the souls of man, but the lost other, unless that human did hear our call and chose, of his or her own accord, to join us. Know that 'weapon' is a grose understatement, as like to saying our world is but a rock, or the sky is but a vault.
The Unicorn's ears flat back. I have seen the light of which you speak. If you used that as a beacon -- those who came would surely feel tricked. It is a trap. It stirred the Still Forest to anger, or something akin to it.
Then another call must be found, Horus agrees. We shall go to the Still Forest, and learn what may be learned of this second plan. For now, let us put it aside. Kari, tell me of the Masters and what we can expect of their power once they alight upon this world.
Devastation and slavery. To entice mortals to help them Open, the Masters offer power seeming without limit. Know that they have the ability to deliver everything that they offer, Kari answers. Girard's eyes widen; he has a half-stricken, half-considering look on his face. They can take control of men's bodies and minds as easily as a man might lift a pebble. Hundreds or thousands at a time would not be beyond them. They can see into your heart and give you what you desire, or the illusion of what you desire. Or what you fear. They can reshape the land itself like a potter kneading clay. What they do depends on what they desire. I would imagine that their first priority would be to gather up the spirits that escaped them. Then they would turn their attention to the rest of the Earth, divvying it up amongst them as playthings, to do with as they please.
The unicorn adds, Masters have few needs, but many desires. What they do will be based on whim, not requirement, and is accordingly hard to predict.
Then they must not succeed, Horus decides, and Girard can catch a trace of decision on his voice. The falcon rarely decides upon anything, chosing to, instead, allow his students to decide for themselves. It would seem that Horus has been content to remain but an aid to humanity, a guide, not its director. Now, the falcon seems to have made a choice of his own. Humanity will not fall. This world will not become their plaything, they who know not wisdom. Strength shall cross swords with knowledge, and the wise. Horus looks up to Girardm now. Know now what you face. You have heard: they may grant what you wish. All that you wish. Know, then, what we face is apocalypse, or oblivion. Know now, that I have decided to act. What then, will you do, Girard?
"Er. We're going to Open anyway, right, Horus?" Girard feels his way forward. "We have to Open to help the spirits here. So couldn't we ... um ... trick them into giving us the reward of Opening? Then once we've got the power we'd have something to fight them with. So we can Close the portal again. We'd do both. Right? Wouldn't that be the sensible thing to do?" He looks hopeful.
We may trick them, for a time. But what they grant, can they not withdraw? Horus peers down at Unicorn for confirmation. I would rather a power born not from them, but from us. Let it be our will and desire that brings about our liberation and renewal. Not just as an act symbolic, not merely so our strength may not be taken, but for our future: our spirits will shape our world and future. Success will echo through the ages. That is also why, we must come together. They must know. We all must.
I do not know if all the lost spirits in the world could stand against them, the Unicorn tells Horus. We are much diminished here, and most of us are bound into things too tightly to escape from them; as you say, human souls would not likely leave their hosts to answer your call.
But despite her cautious words, there's something in the unicorn's eyes and the tone of her language: a little trace of treacherous hope.
It will be one of several plans, of last resort. The others create their own plans now. We will reconvene in time, and we will march on the appointed day, says Horus solemly, nodding to Unicorn. And if we cannot defeat them directly, there may be more we can do. We will go unto the Still Forest, and learn what may be learnt. Horus hops up Unicorn's horn, then on to Girard's shoulder. Girard, we should go. Time is of the essence, and there is a matter I must put to you. Looking back, Horus adds, Unicorn, when the time comes, should this plan seem possible, I will need a question answered, and perhaps more. Will you come, then?
The unicorn hesitates, then bows her head. I will come.