Lenna at the All Thing

Lenna at the All Thing

by James Comins

Published on Smashwords

by James Comins

Lenna at the All Thing

Copyright 2012 James Comins

Cover image by John Bauer. Currently in public domain.

Thank you for downloading this eBook. This book is the sole property of the author. It may be excerpted or reproduced for non-commercial purposes. Your support and respect for the property of this author is appreciated.

This book is a work of fiction. Any resemblance to persons living or dead, places, events or locales is purely coincidental.

Also by the author: Where the Cloud Meets the Mountain and the Mountain Disappears

Table of Contents

Prologue

Chapter One: Out of Egypt

Chapter Two: Mermaids

Chapter Three: Haamil's Story

Chapter Four: The Qadi

Chapter Five: Returning to Asgard

Chapter Six: The Story of Rusalka

Chapter Seven: Two Temples

Chapter Eight: Grettir

Chapter Nine: Grettir's Story

Chapter Ten: The Great Moot

Chapter Eleven: Loki

Chapter Twelve: Wind Magic

Chapter Thirteen: Blood Sisters

Chapter Fourteen: Evil Words

Chapter Fifteen: The Story of Kullervo

Chapter Sixteen: Raconteuring

Chapter Seventeen: Fissure

Chapter Eighteen: Falling

Chapter Nineteen: Trolls

Chapter Twenty: Big, Senseless Fears

Chapter Twenty-One: Aftermath

Chapter Twenty-Two: A World of Song

Epilogue

Acknowlogies and Apoledgements

About the Author

Prologue

The man sat in the shade of a wooden cupola on the roof of the temple in Ishikawa Prefecture on the west coast of Japan. A flintlock arquebus, a kind of narrow hand cannon, rested on his left shoulder. A colony of ants perused his pant leg. He did not move.

One shot. It would take too long to reload.

He did not know what creature the Power would be sending to destroy his research. He was not, honestly, even sure which Power was attacking him. But his research must survive. He must protect it. Once his research was completed, it could never be performed again. The eyes of the researcher change the research.

The temple of Heike was a pillar of ghosts, and through their ministrations, he had found what he was looking for. As they gave up their secrets, they gave up the ghost, too, and shuffled off to wherever Japanese spirits go. Now, after five years of speaking with the dead, gathering their words, translating and transcribing, he had made a mistake. A Power had learned where he was.

Sometimes all the preparation in the world can’t protect you.

The man steadied his racing heart. The buzz of his magical defenses hummed all around the temple grounds. It would be soon. His ears were alive with sounds. He had learned to maximize all his senses at once, when he had to. Any sound within the perimeter came straight to him.

Whispers. Reeds played like flutes. A strange wind blew. A very old, very deadly wind. The hairs on the man’s neck rose like chill quills. He knew this wind.

Kamikaze. The breath of God.

Howling, bawling, the wind swam up the coast toward the temple. Toward him. He lifted his arquebus, its breech filled with a plentiful combination of powdered ingredients, salt and iron and lemon seed and dried holly and garlic and anything else known to repel spirits. The man cocked the hammer with his thumb. One shot.

But his attention shifted. A speck appeared in midair above the waters between Honshu and China, dancing like a dandelion seed on the wind. What was it? It came closer.

From where would the attack come? The kamikaze or the speck? Both? The muzzle of the gun swung, then swung again, as he tried to decide. One shot.

The researcher’s spectacles were shaded by a straw hat tied to his chin with jute. The speck began resolving in the man’s vision. It wore fluttering robes in the Indian style, bright patterned fabrics slung with a sash. The robed figure was strangely small, like an elf or a kitten. No, it was a monkey, swinging around a long brass-capped wooden staff. Each swing of the staff seemed to slap gravity, catapulting the monkey higher into the air. A scream of lunacy as the creature spotted the man on the roof. The monkey broke past the line of the coast, up the beach, toward the pagoda roof, simian eyes burning in rage, consumed by the sight of the man. Driven.

This, then, was the enemy. Ignoring the wind, the researcher took careful aim at the flying monkey. Pulling on the trigger, the man heard a shatter of sparks, felt a roar of heat as gun cotton caught fire. Whoosh. The packet of powders flew in a spatter toward the enemy.

Bracing the staff, the monkey spun into the upper air like a waterspout, straight up, and balanced upside-down on the tip of the staff. Powder passed under it harmlessly. The man cursed. The monkey laughed and laughed.

Hurriedly, the man fumbled a spare powder charge out and jammed it into the breech. Gun cotton . . . left pocket. No, in the rim of his hat. He hadn’t anticipated missing. What a nimble creature, this monkey. No time . . .

Hollow cries of pain. The monkey, swatting at the air. The breath of God, whirling the pestering-powder up the monkey’s nose. Sneezes. The monkey, rooting around in its nose with the brass tip of its staff.

Then, a noise not unlike the moans of the ghosts of the Heike temple. Blue light spun from the monkey’s eyes. An evil spirit was departing the animal’s body, driven out by one or another of the man’s powders. A harmless, screechy animal was set down lightly on the beach by the spiralling breath of God. With a last sneeze, it scampered out of the Indian monk’s robes and up a banana tree.

As the man slid down off the roof, he wondered exactly whose breath had saved him.

Chapter One

Out of Egypt

or, Be Gentle

Behind Lenna, the empty yawning mouth of the skull cave stood out against the poised leap of the warm turquoise sky. She, Isis and Neftis walked down a packed-earth trail toward a jungle bursting with ferns and vines. Horace was a sliding W above them. Thoth bounded through the undergrowth. The book chained to his leg slithered a path through the forest floor. Just beyond the few dozen banyan trees was a sand beach meandering with washing seas.

Sabine Mouse was gone. She was dead for real. It played itself into Lenna’s mind, over and over. She could see it happening. That moment when she had allowed the thought of a water world into her mind, and told Osiris, and the angel Indaell made it come true, and all the living-dead things of Deathvorld turned into dead-dead things, that moment played itself and played itself into her mind.

A cheeping bone mouse, falling into herself with a rubble sound. There wasn’t any explosion or lightning bolt. Her friend just tumbled down. She was gone. It played in her mind, and she couldn’t get it to go away.

All the best best moments with Sabine returned to her, the ones she would never get to see again. They repeated themselves, maybe so she wouldn’t forget:

A fallen angel losing his door to the real world. Screaming about it. Lenna was trapped with him in a dead plain. A mouse, cutely making the fear bearable. It played in her mind.

Three wampires, asking her to tell a story. She told them a made-up version of her own autobiography, and danced to it, and Sabine danced along under blood-dripping branches. It played in her mind.

A shrieking bat in a claustrophobic cave, trying to herd her toward a sacrificial bowl at a dead end. The mouse, leaping to save her. It played in her mind.

Reciting a spooky chanting prayer. Learning her own whole real name for the first time, and her mouse’s name, too. It played in her mind.

Getting yelled at by Seth, whoever he was anyways, and nearly getting fed to the crocodile. Her mouse growling to protect her. It played in her mind.

A pepper tart, granting immortality. A mouse making sure Lenna ate every crumb. It played in her mind.

A cheeping bone mouse, falling into herself with a rubble sound. There wasn’t any explosion or lightning bolt. Her friend just tumbled down. She was gone.

Sabine Mouse was gone. She was dead for real. Lenna could never find enough tears.

Isis and Neftis walked in perfect quiet. Neither their mouths nor their feet made any sound. Thoth hopped. Lenna wanted Sabine Mouse on her shoulder. The mouse had never sat on her real real shoulder.

She grabbed a fern and tore leaves off as she trudged. All her friends were gone. Her fingernail dug into the moist plant and scratched mercilessly. She wanted to scream. Through the center of the vein she tore. She looked down at it. For a moment, she remembered Renard and the happy stupid world of the Verdance of Verdandi.

There had been a mouse there. She had spoken to it. Had that been Sabine? Had she been alive at first? Would she have been able to follow Lenna into the real world if, if the sun hadn’t gotten killed?

Was it Lenna’s fault that her mouse died?

Up went her eyes. Light seemed to shine off the water itself. The sun was strange. Staring up between the ruinous mile-high lichen-draped banyan branches, she saw that in one spot the sky had a speck of brown and green. It wasn’t the sun at all, she realized, just a reflection of the colors of the island. The sky was a mirror. The sun was dead.

She wrapped her arms around herself and felt her new, grown-up body. Her body had changed in so many ways, and she wasn’t inclined to use time magic to change it back. Vaguely she wondered how old she was, or at least how old her body was. She wondered how Binnan Darnan would feel about it.

A stream of thoughts drifted through her head, trying to block out the memories of her mouse. Her dress was shiny green. She didn’t have woman’s burden or whatever it was called. The ground was squishy. Isis was maybe angry at her. Was she? The water was soothing. Where was Kaldi and what was he doing? How was Andy? Were Shadow Talvi and everyone from Breidablik about to whirl into existence beside her, following the ripples? What did that even mean?

Sabine Mouse was gone. She was dead for real.

We need to find the way to Asgard, Neftis snapped in an angry tone of voice as they reached the shore.

Hiss went Isis’ breath. Snarl. The goddess crossed her wrists over her heart like a mummy, as if she didn’t know what else to do. Lenna looked up at her and realized that both of these goddesses had now lost their husband for a hundred years (how could they both be married to the same man?), and it was definitely sort of Lenna’s fault, but they were reacting in very different ways.

Be gentle, Lenna whispered to Neftis. Isis’ lips curled for a sob, and her face turned cry-red.

A net flew out of the water and dragged them all in.

Chapter Two

Mermaids

or, Hzbz, bz WZ bzz?

Lenna’s foot was snagged whoop cold water splash yank her legs bunched wet submerge didn’tgetabreath neeeroooom she was squashed against Neftis, who thrashed and bubbles whooomed out of her mouth. Ropes bowed around them and she couldn’tbreathecouldn’tbreathecouldn’tbreathe

Alive, I trow! A fine catch. Tell General Nisoor. Bring breath-oil, slave!

Lenna got conked by Neftis’ foot, which had stuck out between the ropes and was smacking around at whoever-was-talking.

couldn’tbreathecouldn’tbreathecouldn’tbreathe

It was really, really hard to open her eyes. Her mouth slurped in fresh water and snorted it out through her nose. Shivery cold, Lenna felt headache-pressure in the dark depths.

couldn’tbreathecouldn’tbreathecouldn’tbreathe

It was bluish-gray and bubbly and warmth was nowhere except coming from Neftis’ bucking back. Isis’ blue glow flew into the goddess’ nose and she stopped thrashing around.

couldn’tbreathecouldn’tbreathecouldn’tbreathe

Lenna hoped they’d been caught by Aegir the stormkeeper. He had sounded nice.

couldn’tAhhhhh.

Cream was rubbed smoothly into the back of her neck by unseen hands. Bending around, Lenna saw a mermaid, green-glowing, with mile-long white hair tied up with a black scarf. Her tail was gray-pink muscle, flashing light. She wore a short patchy shirt of fish scales under a draping black veil. She dipped a hand into a crystal lotion vial and wiped goop across the front of Lenna’s throat, too.

Is that better? the