Final Solstice (13 page)

Chapter 14

Under the bow bridge, so named for being shaped like an archer’s bow and spanning the Lake in Central Park, Solomon huddled in a long down trench coat and a bright green silk scarf. The daylight was soft and diffuse, struggling from a low position to penetrate thick layers of clouds in the aftermath of the storm.

“So, gentlemen. And lady,” he said, addressing the four people standing along with him on the thick ice, braving the bitter winds. Further away, at the far side of the lake, a few intrepid ice skaters were out enjoying the conditions.
You’re welcome
, Solomon thought. Let them have their fun for now.
Times, as Dylan said, they are a changin’.

“You called,” said the youngest of the group, a Nordic-looking man in his late thirties. He had a boyish glint in his eyes despite the age lines creasing his brow. “And we came.”

“But we do not like being summoned,” said the lady, a thick wool scarf and an enormous pea coat covering her solid frame; she wore pointed horn-rimmed glasses and a wide red hat over curly silver hair.

The oldest one, wearing a hat with ear flaps, leaned on his dark cherry cane, his hands in thick mittens, and grumbled: “Especially in this weather.”

“My apologies,” Solomon replied, “for the lack of advance notice, as well as for the choice of meeting location, but it is urgent, and of course with technology being so unreliably non-private …”

“Yes, yes,” the old man spoke up, his breath sputtering into foggy bursts, “get on with it.”

“We presume,” said the younger man, “that this is about the UN.”

“And about the semiannual meeting,” said the lady.

“Palavar,” said the dark-skinned one, a Haitian, silent until now. He had long, tight dreadlocks and was dressed simply in a sweater, khaki’s and earmuffs, as if he’d been out for a jog.

“Yes, Palavar.” Solomon sighed and held up the late leader’s staff. He made a slow display of caressing the grooves in the gnarled wood. “I know you all didn’t see eye to eye with him on many occasions.”

The old man cleared his throat. “Nor did we wish him serious harm.”

“Nor did I,” said Solomon. “But he struck first. I reacted. Not just for my survival alone, but for all of ours.”

“And the others on the council?” asked the lady, her eyes looming larger behind the lenses.
And full of more than a bit of challenge
, Solomon thought, recalling what he’d heard of the one known as Lady Sunfire. Out of those who remained, she had the most experience, the greatest power. He’d have to be careful of her. And of the others. The next few minutes were key.

“Several of the other council members were … regrettably caught in the crossfire.”

“Regrettably,” she echoed. “And those who escaped death?”

Solomon let out a low sigh. “Taking a rest, thinking on things. Evaluating their choices. They’ll get another chance to pick a side soon.”

“Maybe,” said the Haitian, “we should wake them up and ask them to decide along with us.”

“In time,” agreed Solomon. “Now, I’ve asked you here because I am readying the next phase. I need to know if I can count on your support.”

“The next phase,” said the old man, adding a grunt at the end.

Here we go
, Solomon thought.
Does every old guy have to support Palavar in his quest to do nothing fast?

“If Phase Two means what I think it means …” The old man coughed, clutched his chest, then thumped it once. “Then I am all for it.”

Solomon blinked rapidly. “You are?”

The old man’s eyes were smiling, and sparking with energy. “Palavar was—I must say, with apologies to Ms. Sunfire—a dried up old pussy.”

Ms. Sunfire nearly choked on her tongue.

The Haitian let out a smile, but the young man frowned. He stepped forward. “Am I hearing right? We’re actually in agreement on the murder of an arch-druid?”

“Benjamin,” said the Haitian. “Let’s hear him out.”

“What’s to hear? Seizing power now by force is condoned?” Benjamin clenched his fists, and reached behind his back for a slender staff made of pure ivory, so white it almost blended with the ice. Twirled it once and stepped out from the group’s semi-circle to face Solomon.

“You wanted to know if you have our support?”

“I think,” said Solomon without missing a beat, “you’re giving me your answer.”

Benjamin nodded. “Sunfire. Haitian Jack and Stanwick. Stand with me now. Consider what Solomon is proposing with his Phase Two.”

“Yes,” said Solomon, “consider it. Consider—”

“—the natural karma you’ve upset,” spat Benjamin.

Old man Stanwick’s throat issued a phlegm-filled cough. “Please. The karma’s been upset for millennia, since our degenerate ancestors climbed down from the branches and started believing we had the God-given right to dominion over the beasts and the land.”

“Genesis,” said Ms. Sunfire, “may have been a bit too pandering, and I admit, used far too often in defense of man’s worst acts.…”

“Colonization,” said the Haitian.

“Industrial expansion,” added Stanwick. “Pollution, greed, waste …”

Benjamin’s eyes swept across the others as they spoke, then turned back to Solomon. His hands trembled on the staff. “I repeat,” he said, mustering some strength. “Karma is out of balance. I shudder to think what—who—you’ve sacrificed to unleash what you’ve unleashed.” He glanced in the direction of the UN plaza. “But it feels as terribly wrong to me, as it should to all of you.”

The others, having a chance to speak, remained silent.

Solomon cleared his throat. “This karma you speak of, this balance? I put it to you, as I have put it to the council for years, that the balance has been woefully lopsided since, as Mr. Stanwick just said, we shuffled down from the trees. Think of the earth in all its millennia of life. How many species has it put to the sword of extinction? Ninety-eight per cent of all the species that have ever lived upon the earth are now extinct.”

“Yes,” said Benjamin, “and how many of them are gone precisely because of us, because of man?”

“Frightfully few, I presume,” said Haitian Jack, sticking his hands in his pockets.

“Exactly so,” Solomon said. “Frightfully few compared to the mass carnage, the total annihilation earth has subjected its own tenants to throughout the great eras of time. Ice ages followed by volcanic epochs where ash blanketed the skies and poison rained upon the forests and the seas boiled and billions upon billions of carcasses had their stories end with inglorious fanfare, sweeping the field clear for a new round of hopeful life forms, only to indiscriminately destroy those as well.”

Benjamin stewed. “Ancient history, as they say. Your point? The present is all that matters, and now we are the blight, we are stealing that power from its rightful wielder. We are—”

“Killing some species, certainly,” Solomon interrupted. “But how many more are we saving? Interjecting ourselves into the path of Nature’s wishes. Securing habitats, removing natural predators, saving genetic material and nursing the sick creatures, encouraging mating and protecting others in zoos. Who are we to interfere, to mock Nature’s plans?” Solomon gripped his staff in both hands. “You speak of balance, and I tell you I am merely righting the balance, restoring power to where it belongs. Not with man and his technology and his medical miracles and his immunizations and ecological re-engineering.
That
is what has usurped the balance.”

He sighed, as if resting after the exertion of making his point. “I will right it, correct that imbalance.”

Benjamin paled. “By this … this Phase Two? Unleashing the full unpredictable fury of nature upon the world? Decimating the industrial nations so that it will take all their efforts just to rally the survivors and huddle together and somehow try to rebuild?”

Solomon beamed. “Now you’re seeing the light.”

“No,” said Benjamin. “I do not. I see only the darkness. In you, in your plan, and in any who follow you. We have different worldviews, but I believe that of all the billions of species that haven’t made it to this point, maybe it was because Nature—or God—was experimenting, building just the right one, with the right mix of love, compassion, ambition and fortitude. A species with the intelligence and the capacity to dream, and to learn and to improve. One that could—”

“Enough!” Solomon hissed, and in a flash he leapt up and down, landing just before Benjamin, and bringing the staff tip down hard against the ice. And in the next movement, he had leapt back to his position under the bridge.

The cracking of the ice echoed off the masonry and the Greek-styled facade, and Benjamin had just a moment to raise his staff in a counter attack attempt, but not enough time to finish the motion.

In the next instant he was gone, plummeting through the gaping hole in the ice without so much as a splash. Just … gone.

Solomon exhaled hard, pushing out all his breath, then swept an arc with his staff, pushing the frigid air over the jagged hole, then making circular motions over it. The hole promptly sealed over with thick ice, just over Benjamin’s face as it rose, and the hands that lunged upward were encased in the block of ice. His eyes blinked once, then the frost sealed over and it was done.

Solomon held out his staff powerfully in front of his body, warding over the empty spot as he focused on each other druid in turn. “Any other dissenters?”

Ms. Sunfire clucked her tongue, looking at the hole. “Poor boy.”

The Haitian made no motion whatsoever, only stared at the frosted ice and the blurry shape encased below. Mr. Stanwick grumbled and turned to face Solomon. “So now that that’s settled, can you please desist from further depleting our ranks? Just tell us what you need from us to get the goddamn ball rolling on this next phase?”

Solomon grinned and leaned with both hands on his staff. “Most certainly. I’m glad you asked.” He glanced at them all in turn, then pointed with his staff, not at them or the ground, but up at the sky, some vague direction up through the clouds.

“Tell me, what do you all know of satellite weather surveillance?”