Prospero Regained (37 page)

“No.” Erasmus’s voice was muted. “I literally tried to strangle her.”

Cornelius was quiet for a time, digesting this: “I assume you had a good reason, Brother?”

“I thought I did at the time.”

“Are you all right?” Cornelius’s voice expressed concern.

“As well as can be expected.”

Neither of them, I noted, asked after me.

*   *   *

WE
hiked the Mountains of Misery, which Mephisto reported were hewn from selfishness and oppression. The dead here kept to themselves. They scurried away if we drew too near.

The slopes were steep and bitterly cold; many of us developed painful blisters. At first we walked jauntily, buoyed up by honey and wine, but the sheer misery of our situation, the cold, the blisters, the unending, difficult climb, soon took its toll upon our spirits.

Turning my thoughts away from the cold and the chafing of my shoes, I was able to keep my spirits up by thinking of delightful things. I contemplated my love of flying and how much I had enjoyed our recent rides on Pegasus. I thought about that feeling of satisfaction in a job well done that came each time Prospero, Inc., successfully negotiated a new Priority contract or met the conditions of a standing one. What a pleasure it was to do work that was truly useful, to know that my help made modern science and all the advances of mankind possible.

When that paled, I turned my thoughts to my flute and how much I loved playing it—under ordinary circumstances, when it called sylphs and Aerie Ones, rather than the Hellwinds. Even the knowledge that the Serpent of the Wind dwelled within could not dim my delight, particularly since I was not entirely sure if his presence there was a bad thing. I mean, if my Lady did not object, why should I? Perhaps, he was happier in my flute than he would have been had Father left him in the jar where King Solomon had imprisoned him. After all, he got to blow things about and occasionally call up storms.

I recalled the tempest I had played the morning that I summoned Astreus and discovered he was Seir of the Shadows. How the winds had raged, and the mountainside shook. Rain had fallen upon the island like spears of water, striking every leaf and blade. Great billowing thunderheads, dark as sin, had raced though the sky, only to be split by tridents of lightning. And the thunder! The whole earth had groaned at its force. What a storm it had been!

I was midstep over a low flat rock, my thoughts filled with the joys of storms, when the thought struck me. My heart froze in my chest, and my limbs went cold. I struggled for breath, the chilly air raking my lungs painfully.

Mab had a soul. Caurus must have a soul, too. And Windflower? How many Aerie Ones with souls had I compelled with the flute?

Slowly, I turned and looked down from our great height at the figures, now tiny, who moved upon the Paths of Pride. I could make out a band of men and some women, roped together and suffering under the scourge of their driver imp.

Slavers.

The morality of commanding spirits, fickle soulless things, could be argued
ad nauseum,
but there was no debating the wrongness of enslaving creatures with souls.

Tears stung my eyes. I reached back and touched my flute lovingly. After we rescued Father and were safely home, I could approach the family magicians about whether it would be possible to release Mab and the other souled Aerie Ones from the flute’s control without breaking it. If so, wonderful. If not … there would be time enough to think about that then. In the interim, I could hand out a lot of earplugs!

After this, my attempts to cheer myself failed. Soon, I could hardly bring a happy thought to mind. Instead, my thoughts were filled with the misery of our situation, the futility of our task, the irony of Astreus’s death, the burden of my true parentage, how much I wanted to knock Erasmus’s head into the sharp-edged rocks—the arrogant bastard! How dare he manhandle me!—and other topics equally glum, all of which clamored for my attention as I plodded slowly upward along the narrow trail.

*   *   *

WE
rested briefly several times. Despite Logistilla’s repeated requests for a longer break, I insisted we push on. We did not know how much time it would take us to cross the mountains, or what obstacles might wait beyond.

The longer I walked, the more miserable I felt. Then, as I stumbled on a loose boulder, an unpleasant sensation gripped me. It was that horrible feeling that comes when one suddenly realizes that one has forgotten something of extreme urgency, as if the previously solid ground beneath one’s feet suddenly transformed into shifting sands.

These plans for the Aerie Ones—these stratagems involving bodies and souls—it was all for naught. Everything that Father had set in motion depended upon one thing: time—long, uninterrupted durations of time. And time, we no longer had.

We were living in the heyday of humanity, the best of times. The dreams of better times that men cherish in their hearts—often expressed as visions of sleek, silver spaceships and world-encompassing peace—these dreams would never come. For, when the spirits broke loose, modern science would fail, and mankind would be cast back into an earlier age.

Columbus sailed to America in 1492. There was a reason why no one had reached the New World before him—before Father bound up the winds and commanded them to serve man’s sails instead of smashing any ship that crossed the equator. The more winds Father captured, the more superior grew man’s control of the sea and skies. The age of the explorers, of clipper ships, and even ocean liners and airplanes, all grew out of the Prospero Family’s mastery of the winds.

What was going to happen in a hundred years or so when we all died of old age, freeing the Aerie Ones from their oath?

Had we had years enough, perhaps we could have given them souls, and perhaps they would have developed good souls and choose not to do harm, and perhaps pigs would have learned how to fly …

But we did not have enough Water for any of us to live long enough to complete that project.

Had their service run out while we still lived, any wind who misbehaved would have been hunted down by my brothers and forced to swear a new oath. Most likely, the Aerie Ones would have been given the same kind of deal Prospero, Inc., offered the other spirits, where we provided them with something they wanted in return for them living up to a set of laws—what scientists called the “Laws of Nature”—and limiting the harm they did to mankind. There might have been a short period of dire havoc, but it all would have been well in the end.

Only, now, when the Aerie Ones got free, my brothers would be dead.

True, the
Orbis Suleimani
would still exist, but without us, they would be hard pressed just to keep guard over the demons in the staffs. Running Prospero, Inc.—without Water of Life or the help of the Aerie Ones—was out of the question.

So, mankind would be cast back to the days before sea travel or air travel. And that was assuming that the other sprites we had bound did not all rebel when Prospero, Inc., stopped honoring its contracts. If that happened, it would not be the Renaissance civilization fell back to, but the Dark Ages.

Should the
Orbis Suleimani
fail, on the other hand, the results would be far worse than the Dark Ages. It would set mankind back to the time before Solomon bound the elements. Back before fire would smelt iron! Back to the days of volcano kami who demanded virgin sacrifices, and rivers who would rise up at their whim and outrage maidens; back to the days before mankind ruled the earth.

This wonderful world that man had built, where so many ate, so many lived in comfort, so many lived without slavery or fear of imminent death, it would all be gone in a twinkling of an eye. And it would be all my fault!

If I had not been taken in by Seir, if I had not trusted the false Ferdinand, the future would still be shining and bright. I covered my face with my hands and wept as if the sorrow of my heart were a river that would never run dry.

We were living in the last days.

*   *   *

WE
continued, silent, cold, and miserable. The three peaks we had already climbed eclipsed much of our view. Occasionally, we caught glimpses of the Plain of Wasted Lives, the nightmarish forest, and, in the far, far distance beneath a red-orange sky, infernal towers rising from behind the dark wall of the City of Dis.

The trek was wearying and depressing. Luckily, I had a secret weapon. Every time I felt too sorrowful, I glanced back at Theo, walking among us, hale and strong. Just the fact that he looked himself again, with his fierce gaze and his chiseled cheekbones—that he was the most handsome of my brothers was generally agreed by both men and women, though there were those among the fairer sex who preferred Mephisto, who was the prettier of the two—lifted my spirits, if only a notch or two.

To my right, the Mountains of Misery trailed away into the distance, growing ever taller. Gazing at them, I forgot, for an instant, that I was in Hell, regarding peaks hewn from sorrow and misery. During that instant, the vista seemed breathtakingly beautiful, complete with “purple mountain majesties.”

The sight stirred long-buried memories. I had almost forgotten how much I had loved to journey to new places. In my first few centuries, my family had traveled a great deal. I recalled wind-tossed sea voyages into unknown waters, cresting the Rhipaeans to catch my first glimpse of the ever-dawn of Hyperborea, our first visit to Japan and the Far East. Best of all, of course, had been the secret and wonderful journey of a year and a day to the Well at the World’s End—a journey, I realized with a sudden pang of sorrow, I would never make again.

It was a journey upon which no human could accompany me, but I seldom went alone. In my youth, I would travel with a dog, whichever of the family’s curs or hunting hounds I was fondest of at the time. Later, after Father had presented us with our familiars, I made the trip with my familiar, Tybalt, Prince of Cats.

All that had ended once I took over Prospero, Inc. The pressures of running the company crowded in upon me, and there was no time for frivolities such as journeys to unknown lands. And yet, I still longed to discover what was beyond the horizons I knew: to visit the halls of Forestholme; to cross the arched bridge between Mount Urnath and Mount Amaranth in fell Avernus; to see the silver fields where my Lady walked; and, of course, to behold the wonders that Astreus had tried to tempt me with at Father Christmas’s mansion, the wonders that only seven had seen beyond the Brink of the World.

But, it was not to be.

With the eerie certainty that comes from glimpsing the present as if it were a far distant age, I realized that, assuming I lived, this grueling and heart-racking trek across Hell would one day be numbered among my most cherished memories. While it was true that I had been made uncomfortable, injured and humiliated—not to mention living in constant terror for Father and my other loved ones—this journey had granted my heart’s dearest wish: our family worked and traveled together once again!

*   *   *

AFTER
seven hours, we finally surrendered to fatigue and made camp. Titus and I still wanted to continue, but Logistilla, Cornelius, and Mephisto were nearly dropping from exhaustion. Truth be told, I was so tired I could not properly focus my eyes.

Mephisto tapped his staff, and again the seven young hoodlums appeared among us, their arms overflowing with bags of fast food and clothes. Mephisto sent them home immediately, instructing them to collect bedding for us. He handed a pair of shiny new Nikes to Ulysses and the bandana to Cornelius, who immediately tied it around his head, covering his eyes. Then, Mephisto divvied up the food: hamburgers and fries, tacos, a bag of nachos smothered in liquid cheese, and a bag of carrots. When combined with our wine, milk, and honey, it proved a surprisingly satisfactory meal.

By the time Mephisto summoned the seven young men back again, they had gathered six sleeping bags, four blankets, a linen bedspread, some towels, a tablecloth and a shower curtain. We spread the shower curtain over a flat ledge that was tucked under an overhang, facing away from the wind. Then, we made do as best we could with the rest.

Though totally exhausted, I lay awake upon my sleeping bag for a time, contemplating what was to come. A little over a day and a half from now, either all would be lost, or Father would be safe, and I would be home again. I pictured what I would do, visiting the office, reading by the fireplace in the lesser hall, with Tybalt curled up on a silken pillow, the phoenix lamp emitting its cinnamony fragrance.

Only, for the first time, I felt dissatisfied. What would I read by the light of the phoenix lamp? All my studying thus far had been in pursuit of Sibylhood. Without that search to sustain me, what purpose did my life have?

Even my Prospero, Inc., duties—which heretofore I had enjoyed immensely—evoked no sense of excitement. After our trek through Hell, returning to the daily toil of running a company suddenly seemed like a step backward, as if a graduate were to return to college the following fall, instead of setting out to make his way in the world.

As I drifted off to sleep, I dreamt I was the Sibyl destined to free the elves from their oath to Hell, but that I was unable to pursue this goal because there was no one else to run Prospero, Inc.

*   *   *

SLEEPING
atop the hard rock of solidified misery, I slipped in and out of nightmares. Once, I thought I had awakened but perhaps that, too, was a dream. In the dream, Mephistopheles the demon stood beside me, his head lowered so he could fit beneath the overhang. He spoke with a man made entirely of shadow who crouched near me, watching me with blood red eyes.

“I hear you are no longer recognized,” said the shadowy form.

“And with whom do you side, Incubus? With myself, or the Queen?” My brother the demon spread his wings and flexed his glowing ruby claws.

The sable incubus did not so much as glance at Mephistopheles. “I have always been one who acknowledges the Powers that Be, Great Prince! While I am here, where you are, I am certain you are a Prince of the Sixth Circle, with all the requisite honors!”