An Evening at the Carnival with Mister Christian

This third wizard was almost identical to the first two -- at least the few people gathered by the meadow's edge thought that the case. His eyes possessed the same budding warmth, his gaunt, willowy frame was as translucent -- and yet those gathered noticed each had been different, too, and in not so very subtle ways. This third one was neat in a way the first and second had not been, and somehow Langston felt that this third wizard was not as kind.

"Here, what's your name?" someone called from the shadows.

"My name is of no concern to you," this third Mr Christian said.

"And who have you come for?" Langston asked as quickly.

"Sloth."

"Sloth?"

"Yes, boy, I have come for you."

"Me?" Langston said, now truly wounded. "Sloth?"

"Take my hand, for we have a long way to go before this sun rises once again."

"Don't do it, brother, I beg you -- in Christ's name!" he heard Timothy's pleading cry through the creeping fog that was enveloping this shore.

Langston turned to Timothy and met his fierce eyes with the hushed tones of his own quiet voice: "Quiet, brother," he whispered through the encroaching mist. "I've got to go, go and find Jennifer." He looked at Jeremiah, bade them both to come close. "We'll meet up inside the gate," he continued in alarmed, whispered tones, "and if somehow that doesn't happen, if we can't find one another, then we make our way out and back to the house as fast as we can."

"I have a bad feeling about this," Jeremiah interrupted.

"It is as I feared," Timothy whispered fiercely. "We are in company with the Great Deceiver Himself." He made the sign of the cross over his breast as he looked heavenward. "We are surely doomed!"

"Not if we keep our wits about us, we're not. Now see here, Tim, when it's your turn just step inside the gate, or door, or whatever that is, and wait for me. I'll be with you in no time."

"But if something happens," Jeremiah interrupted, again, "then we make for the farm, is that correct?"

"Yes. From here, just follow Orion's belt down to the horizon. You can't miss!"

"Sloth! I have come for you! We cannot wait long." the third talisman boomed.

"Right -- o, mate. Hold on to your knickers!"

The old man glowered and took a step forward.

"Alright, alright... let's have at it, mate! Lead on."

"Take my hand."

"Oh, come on now. We're a bit old for hand holdin', ain't we?"

"Take my hand, Idiot!"

"Right, well, see you soon Tim. Be strong, brothers!" When Langston touched the man's hand he grew still inside and drifted as if sailing on the lightest of breezes towards the door -- then he was through and drifting on the gentle currents of an unseen river. He heard water and could smell sea air all around -- even waves breaking on an unseen shore -- yet it was so dark inside the carnival he could not make out any features within. None. He drifted for some time, hours he guessed -- but it might have minutes, before he realized the man was still with him. He felt uneasy thereafter, unsure of the man's motives.

"Aye, mate, where are we?" Langston finally asked.

"We have not left the place we were."

"Right. Well, pardon me, but let's try that again. Where are we?"

"We are almost there."

"Right. My thanks to ye. You've cleared everything up."

"Think nothing of it."

The raft bumped up against something hard, and in the gloom Langston could just make out the finite contours of a rocky shore receding into an ever deepening darkness. A gently flooding tide pushed the raft insistently onto the rocks, then it recoiled and drifted back within the sloshing stillness -- until the next wavelet pushed them onto the rocks again.

"I hate to bring this up, but are we there yet?"

Silence.

"See 'ere, mate, where are we?" Langston stood in the rocking skiff, peered into the gloom trying to see anything...but all he could feel was his own beating heart -- indeed, he could hear his heart above all things now, but then he felt a freshening breeze coursing through his hair...

And he saw the old man was -- gone! He had simply vanished, if he'd ever really been here at all...but where was here? Here, there and everywhere?

On the next wave he timed his jump as best he could and hopped ashore. He was normally sure-footed but landed badly on the rocky beach, and after brushing himself off he carefully made his way around rocks and boulders before he felt the reassuring comfort of tall grass. But the air! It was cold! Bitterly cold, and the wind was more insistent now!

He felt the coming of dawn and turned, looked at the eastern horizon and saw the sun just rising, but there was something off-putting about the bronze color of this sun, and the oddly iridescent haze of purple-gold mist that lined the far horizon. Still, looking closely now, the sun seemed almost alive, pulsing to the rhythm of a strange, beating heart. Then he looked towards the heavens and almost fell over.

"Mother of God!"

The sky was alive with pulsing light, the aurorae he had so often heard about from sea captains who ventured into far northern seas from time to time -- yet what he saw now was simply overwhelming. The vast dome of the sky was all pulsing greens and pinks and purples, each color static for a time -- before yielding fluidly to another, more outlandish display. And -- the sky was not silent, either!

He could hear a crackling in the air, a sparkling tension that defied words -- and he could feel the hair on the back of his neck standing on end -- just like the chill warning that started down his spine. Something wasn't right...no...something was...dangerously wrong.

Was it the trees?

'They're all wrong,' he said to himself. He looked at the low, stunted trees around this beach...and nothing was recognizable. No maples, no hickory or oak. Not one tree looked like anything he had ever seen before, and then it hit him. It was simply too cold here. Nothing he knew could grow in this climate, and then he heard another crackling in the air, but this noise was not of the sky.

He looked to the north and in the low light he could just make out a wall of solid white ice, and he shook his head as he tried to make out how far away it was. He gave up after a minute; there was simply no way to judge such distance without walking towards the wall, as the ice might have been a hundred feet high and a few miles distant, or a thousand feet tall and dozens of miles away.

Then, another sound, something infinitely more dangerous. Something in the grass...

He instinctively crouched down, as low as he could, because suddenly he felt like he was being watched --

There!

A cracking twig, slow, deep breaths low in the grass -- a rumbling, menacing, growl -- drawing near.

Without thinking he dashed back to the water's edge and looked for the skiff -- but it was gone -- so he jumped into the icy blackness and waded away from shore; when he was as far out as he dared he stopped and turned, looked back at the beach -- and gasped yet again.

The cat was huge, and out of it's mouth drooped two fierce looking saber-like teeth. The animal was looking directly at him, following him now as he waded parallel to the shoreline. Still, the water was icy cold and Langston began to shiver; he knew if he remained in the water he would die soon -- he'd heard stories of what happened when sailors fall overboard in a cold sea -- so he decided to move closer to shore, perhaps get more of his body out of the water. Then he felt the cold breeze on his face and groaned.

Even as he watched the cat, he knew he had no other choice now, really, but to get out of the water.

As he trudged back towards shore the huge cat watched attentively, and Langston could tell the animal was getting ready to attack as soon as he was close enough. His foot touched rock and he edged in a bit more -- until his head and chest were well clear of the water. The cat stood tall and roared, and Langston had never heard anything so soul-crushingly fearsome in his life. He felt warmth around his groin and cursed when he realized he'd just pissed into his pants.

He sensed more than saw something hissing through the air, and when the arrow struck the cat in a rear leg it spun around violently and lashed out -- at -- nothing. It roared again, almost howled in anguish and tried to walk back to the safety of tall grass but something was seriously wrong with the animal. Both it's rear legs were dragging on the rocky beach, and it looked confused, began licking at it's wounds frantically, trying to understand what was happening -- and failing.

Then two men walked out of the tall grass with bows drawn, and they both let slip arrows that flew straight and hit the cat in the neck and chest. The cat wheeled around again and roared, tried to flee, but two more arrows bore in and hit the cat in the chest. Dying now, the cat fell on it's side, began panting heavily, and a moment later it was over.

Langston walked from the water, sure he wanted to thank these two men -- when they heard him, and they turned to face this new threat coming from the water. Then they strung their bows with fresh arrows and took aim at Langston's chest...

+++++

"Aunt Jennie? Is something wrong?"

Aunt Jennie? "What? What did you call me?"

"Aunt Jennie. It's awfully hot out, for you to be out here. Let's get you out of this sun."

"What?" Jennifer stepped back and looked at Jeremiah -- only this boy wasn't quite Jeremiah, was he? In some ways he looked younger -- but his skin was unnaturally clear and his teeth blazing white -- and there were traces of gray in this boy's hair, wrinkles around his eyes.

"It's Hot. We need to get you inside."

"Yes. By the fire, I think."

This strange man, for she was sure now he was not Jeremiah, took her hand and led her up the walk to Langston's porch, then into the house. She almost fell over from the force of her own dismay when she saw the inside of their house, for it was -- gone. Something new and hideously vulgar had replaced it, a huge home with pale, salmon colored walls and cream colored carpets and fantastic works of art on all the walls. And the furniture! She had never seen nor heard of such things as she saw now. And on the wall, a black panel full of moving images, almost like those she had seen within the broadsheet.

"What is this place?" Jennifer Clemens asked. "Where are we?"

"Come on, Aunt Jennie, we'd better get you upstairs. What were you doing out there today? Did you have a doctor's appointment?"

"What?" she asked the stranger, now clearly afraid.

"Upstairs Jennie, let me help you upstairs."

"Alright."

"I'll call Sumner."

"Sumner? Who?"

He helped her up stairs and down a long hall to an impossibly large room, and when she had settled on the bed, when the man had covered her legs with an old quilt, she seemed to let go and drift within the moment, lost in time. She looked down at her hands, wanted to scream when she saw the stranger's skin that had suddenly become her own, because the skin she saw was vast with illness, splotchy and yellow with unnatural age. There was a patch of cloth stuck to the top of her hand, covering a large bruise, and she wondered what it all meant.

"What is this?" she asked the man.

"A BandAid. Were you at the doctor's today?"

"Who?"

"Oh, crap," the man said as he pulled a strange looking box from his jacket pocket. He did things to it, then starting talking into it. "Sumner, it's Pete. Yeah, hi. Look, I was walking by and saw Jennie out front... Yes, I know. Anyway, I think she's been to the docs today, but something's not right. She doesn't know who I am, or who you are, and seems really confused..."

This man, this 'Pete' or whoever he was, listened to the box for a moment, clearly as upset as she was...

"Okay, I'll make the call, and I'll let you know when they get here."

He did something to the box again, then began talking.

"Yes, I'm at 21 Louisburg Square, and I think my Aunt is having a stroke. She's an oncology patient at Mass Gen, a Dr Charles German, I think, and she saw him today. She's very confused. Yes, I'll be out front. About five minutes? Okay."

He put the box away, came to her and sat on the bed.

"Aunt Jennie, I'm going downstairs to wait for the ambulance, and I'll be right back. Sumner will meet us at the hospital."

Jennifer Clemens didn't understand half of what the man said, and she stared at him mutely as he ran from the room. She stood, felt unsteady on her feet and braced herself against a piece of furniture by the bed. She looked up, saw a huge mirror on the wall and screamed when she saw the reflection waiting in the glass, looking back at her.

The woman in there was impossibly frail, and most of the hair on her head was gone. There were a few patches of wretched looking gray hair scattered about, but that wasn't the worst of it. She looked at the skin, and the eyes, and instinctively knew that this poor soul wasn't long for this world. She reached out, tried to comfort the poor thing, and when her hand touched the mirror's smooth surface she brought it back to her own face, felt her skin as she watched in the glass and cold dread filled her to the depths of her soul.

"Who is this thing?" she asked the reflection. "Who am I? What has become of me?"

+++++

Jeremiah Clemens watched Langston disappear within the carnival's stone walls and wanted to scream. Now his sister and his favorite brother were gone from this night, disappeared within the strange stone citadel -- which by any reasoning he possessed simply could not exist. He turned, looked at his brother Timothy and the abject fear in his eyes was all he needed to see.

Behind Timothy stood the Guild Master, and the concern Jeremiah saw on the Master's face was evident, as well. When their eyes met the older man came and stood beside Timothy, and he put his arms protectively around the younger boy's shoulders.

"This is perhaps the strangest thing I've ever seen," the Guild Master said. "I was on horseback riding through these fields not two days ago, and there was nothing here, beyond a few men from the college clearing brush. Yet here we are, in front of a city that appears most ancient."

"This is Satan's work," Timothy whispered.

The Guild Master nodded his head. "I'm inclined to think as you do, young Master Clemens."

Both Jeremiah and Timothy turned to look at the Guild Master, for he was considered the most learned, indeed, the most worldly member of the colony.

"You do?" Timothy said in hoarse surprise.

"Yes, but my concern now is a simple, more immediate one," the Guild Master said. "We must get our people out of there, from inside, if we must, but we must act now, while we may."

"Yes," the brothers said -- voices in clear agreement.

"Well, I've got twenty men moving 'round to the back of this castle, or whatever this may be. They're going to scale the walls, start searching once they get inside, then bring our people out -- while we prohibit further inquiry from here."

"So," Jeremiah interrupted, "we should wait here? Distract this Mr Christian, from where we stand?"

"Distract? No, I fear that is not a wise choice, boy. Should my men be discovered, more people would be in even greater danger. I feel we must enter together, try to find our people and get them back to the entrance..."

"Ah, Moderation, you speak wisely."

The three turned in shocked silence to face this new voice, apparently coming from deep inside the castle -- yet now they came face to face with a fourth magician. He was standing just inches behind Jeremiah, and the beaming smile they took-in was the least disconcerting thing about this wizard. Because he easily stood half again as tall as the Guild Master, who was himself a very tall man, yet it was his other features that the three fell upon. Hard and gray, he seemed chiseled from living granite, and the man's bunched muscles were impossibly large.

But he was looking at the Guild Master just now -- and the giant seemed to be enjoying this moment immensely, and apparently wanted to draw it out. "How many men, did you say? Twenty?" Then the giant laughed, an impossible, booming laugh that echoed across the valley -- and Timothy was half sure he'd let go and wet himself. "Oh well," he said as he wiped tears of mirth from his gleaming, amethyst colored eyes, "this will be a fun evening, Moderation. There's no telling what you'll find in these shadows. Are you ready to go?"

"Me?" the Guild Master said. "Are you speaking to me?"

"Oh, you poor, simple-minded wretch!" the giant said between gales of laughter. "You might as well come along, while we yet have some life left in our bodies."

"Me?"

"Yes, of course you. Now come, for time is not our friend!"

"Do you want me to take your hand, as well?"

"It will make no difference, Envy."

"Envy? But you called me Moderation?"

"Each virtue has it's opposite, just as night has it's day. I thought this self-evident, as all living things seek balance?"

"No, it's not, not at all evident."

"Ah, well, perhaps this night holds many lessons for you. Best keep your eyes open, Envy."

"I'll do my best."

The giant laughed his booming laugh again. "Ah, Envy, you will never see anything with eyes closed so tightly."

The Guild Master followed the giant inside the carnival, and they made their way under torchlight through a labyrinth of polished stone. The giant was quiet now but seemed to know his way through the maze, and though the way ahead seemed to go on forever, the giant stopped by a sudden outcropping in the rock and pulled aside a tattered curtain.

The giant held the curtain aside and motioned to the Guild Master. "Come, Envy, and see with open eyes," and he stepped forward, saw battered light beyond the curtain and heard a loud buzzing as he peered inside...

...and the Guild Master jumped back from the flickering shadows. His men, the twenty he had sent to penetrate the carnival, were naked and grouped in a far corner of the room, held in check by hundreds of angry serpents coiled on the floor, writhing, waiting to strike.

He turned to the giant, began to speak but was cut off.

"No harm will come to them, Envy, with but one word from you. Tell me this nonsense will be at an end, and I will free them. Do you agree?"

"Yes, of course."

The giant let go the curtain and began walking back towards the middle of the castle, then turned in admonishment on the Guild Master. "That was foolish. Not at all what was expected of you."

"They'll be alright?"

"When the new day comes, yes, but you will see them soon enough." He turned, started walking again...

"I see," said the Guild Master, still concerned for his men

"I doubt that, but who knows what this night holds."

"Who are you? Do you have a name?"

That question seemed to confuse the giant -- and he stopped, looked at the Guild Master, his eyes puzzled, full of wonder. "A name? Why yes, I had a name -- once."

"And?"

"I can't remember," the giant laughed -- apparently thinking all this uproariously funny -- as he resumed walking into the bowels of the castle.

"And you are a liar," the Guild Master said after he considered that evasion.

"And you are correct."

"So, why won't you tell me?"

"My name would mean nothing to you."

"Oh? So, who are you besides one who presumes to know so much about me? You, you who dares call me Envy, or by any other name? What manner of fool are you?"

"Evagrius Ponticus. That was my name."

"Truly? Well then, so Vanity presumes to lead Envy on his way? Or do you forget your own sordid dreams?"

"I do not forget," the giant said softly. "Why do you think I am here in this form? Do you think this form a prank, a matter on which you might jest?"