Diane Duane - A Wizard Alone

I’m right behind you. Be careful!

Kit pushed the creeper aside. The gloom beyond the curtain of fungus was even worse than that out in the shadow of the trees; it was danker, more stifling and breathless. Kit edged into it, let the curtain fallDarkness. Ponch was close behind him, crowded up against his legs. Any hope that Kit had had that being in this closed-in place might somewhat muffle the awful screeching from outside was in vain; if anything, it seemed worse. He moved softly among the trees, brushing past the downhanging loops and rags of fungus, trying not to touch them more than he had to. Where the fungus brushed him, he got an uncomfortable itchy feeling even through his shirt.

Kit started to move faster, though the weariness that had started to bother him when he came into this place was getting worse all the time. He was sure he could see shadows moving just beyond the trees that hemmed in the path. It might just have been more of the fungus, shifting in the wind, except that there was no wind. Something was moving there. Then, even over the screaming from above, Kit thought he heard a breathing sound—

He couldn’t bear it anymore. He broke into a run, and Ponch plunged along behind him. The awful fungus slapped him in the face and upper body as he ran; Kit swatted it aside as best he could, but somehow it always seemed to get him anyway. Once he nearly throttled himself by running into a creeper that was hanging exactly at throat height. Kit reacted just in time to grab it, and used it to swing himself a little sideways — but then he banged into one of the closer trees and fell, and from above he could hear the screaming, louder than ever, sounding like laughter now.

Kit staggered to his feet and wobbled down the path again. His body didn’t seem to be working right, and he couldn’t understand why, unless it was just the weariness that was getting to him. His legs almost seemed to belong to someone else. His brain was full of noise that he couldn’t stop. He knew Ponch was behind him, but he had to keep reminding himself of that. He couldn’t get rid of the idea that he was all alone here, had been alone forever…

… except for something that hated him. It was hiding in the shadows. It was up in the furious brightness above the trees. It was dripping from every leaf, underfoot in every square inch of mud, looking at him with cruel, small, burning eyes from up among the branches of the trees. Kit ran, but his body wouldn’t obey him, wouldn’t let him run fast enough; he staggered along like some broken mechanical thing, and the screaming voices up above all laughed at him, and eyes, eyes he didn’t dare meet, eyes whose contact was infinite pain, were staring at him from all around in the dark. He would come out into the open again in a moment, but there would be no respite for him then, either, no escape. The worst of the eyes would be there, waiting for him, in the shape of what was going to kill him at last.

Kit tried to stop, but he couldn’t. Ponch blundered into him from behind. Kit’s own momentum combined with the push from Ponch sent him forward, through the last curtain of creeper and fungus, down onto the path, and he was helpless in front of the merciless thing that waited.

Hands came down, grabbed him by the arms. “ No !” Kit cried—

— and then realized that nothing had happened to him, and that he was facedown in the mud, and that the screaming above him was just screaming again — and that the hands were Darryl’s.

Darryl was stronger than Kit would have expected. He hauled Kit nearly upright, but Kit didn’t have the strength to stay that way; he collapsed down onto his butt again in a most undignified manner, and stayed there for a few moments, just panting and trying to get his breath back.

“Have to get up now,” Darryl said. “It’s coming.”

Kit tried, and had trouble. Once again Darryl reached down to him and took Kit by the forearms.

This time he swung him right up to his feet. Kit staggered a little, but managed to stay there, marveling again at how strong the youngster was. “Thanks,” Kit said. “Darryl, I’ve been trying to catch up with you for a long time. I’m on errantry, and do I ever greet you! Now can we go somewhere quiet and have a talk, because—”

“No,” Darryl said.

“You don’t understand,” Kit said, getting his breath again, but only slowly. “You really ought to get out of here while you’ve got the chance. It’s not here yet, but I think It’s coming—”

“That’s just why I can’t leave,” Darryl said. “There are still things I have to do here, and in all the other heres. It doesn’t matter whether—” He stopped, as if searching for words. “It doesn’t matter what else might be here. It doesn’t matter if there’s a way out. I can’t take it. I have to find the thing that still needs to be done before I can go.”

Kit had been tired enough to start with, but now the exhaustion was coming down on him hard.

He means it doesn’t matter who else is here

, Kit thought, but he doesn’t really believe in anyone else. Not me, for sure. Maybe the Lone Power… but in some way that I don’t understand, which is a problem, because when the Lone One gets here —

“I said I’d stay until what I came to do was done,” Darryl said. “The Silence said, ‘So here’s what it’s all about. Here are the words. What’re you going to do about them?’ They were clear that first time, but after that it was hard to hear them all at once. Every time I tried to make sense of them, the noise would get in the way. Once or twice the shouting got so loud that I thought I’d die of it. Maybe only once or twice after that, it got quiet enough for me to think. But finally I knew those words were what needed saying, though I had trouble visualizing what they meant. It took a long time to picture them, longer to say them… days and days. I kept forgetting. But finally I got them all together and said them. ‘In Life’s name…’“

Kit sat there listening to the words. Part of him knew them better than he knew almost anything else. But another part of him thought, wearily, Why does that sound familiar ? And the roaring and screeching in his head were once again making it hard to pay attention, hard to care about anything.

“…I will fight to preserve what grows and lives well in its own way…”

It was amazing the way the incessant howling of the world could weary you, until you would do anything to distract yourself from the noise of it — bang your head on a wall, hammer your fists on a table, scream to drown it out. That noise got into your head and wouldn’t let you alone, wouldn’t let you be . In the face of that torment, you quickly got to the point where the pain was itself reassuring, something you could rely on, something less stressful than trying to think anything or do anything through the cacophony of life. And when you come right down to it, it doesn’t really matter. Nothing matters that much. Nothing’s worth that much struggle___

“ …To these ends, in the practice of my Art, I will put aside fear for courage, and death for life…”

Not that any of those matter

The world seemed dim and far away, this world, any world.

“But I don’t think anyone else should be here now,” Darryl said, and he came over to Kit. Kit turned his head away.

“There was— Someone was… here before,” Darryl said. “In other ‘heres.’ It was…” He paused, as if hunting for the right term. “It was appreciated. But this isn’t the right way to be here. It’s dangerous like this. It’s a way to get linked to me… by a link that can’t be broken, to keep getting sucked back into the trap I’ve set—” Darryl turned him around, pushed him. “Go,” Darryl said. “Go.