Aftermath, Sable/Murray
Late-October/Early-November SY152
The dreamer dreams.
Two figures stand at the entrance to Murray. One blond. One dark. Grandfather and grandson. News has come of the death of Borealis, which has brought the grandfather home. He mourns the passing of the land of an old and long-missing friend, but his priority must be to save what he can of the land he himself has built. A land built initially to anchor the Shadows which were nearly lost before, during a time of absence. He knows Murray was built strong. Built to last. Built to be an anchor. But he has also seen the damage wrought in other places by the destruction of a Power. Will this wave be strong enough to break those anchors and cast the Shadows into the void?
His grandson is the only one who can help him try to preserve both the keystone itself, and the Shadows surrounding it. He has taught the younger man so much of the Pattern over the years, and they have often worked with it together before. Emergency procedures are brought into force bringing in people from the outlying areas of Hereadh continent, but neither grandfather nor grandson know how much they can protect in the face of the storm. Having seen the damage elsewhere, only time will tell.
As the first refugees arrive, they are sent onbound to another, hopefully safe location where, in their own way, they can aid the fight against the ancient enemy. But there are too many, and there is too little time. All that can be done is for the others to be crowded into Murray's capital, in the hope that it, at least, can be saved. But not all will arrive in time.
Grandfather and grandson feel the first waves and tremors which herald the arrival of the storm. They feel the power within those waves - barely diminished despite its long journey through space and time. They know that it will take everything they have to protect even part of the world. But protect it they must or all will be lost.
The full force of the storm hits them with enough power that it is everything they can do not to falter as it strikes. But they resist. They stand, back to back, and draw on each other and on the Jewel in the grandfather's hand, to try to focus the energies they wield to protect the people. They feel some of the anchored Shadows detach, unable to stand in the face of the storm, and they feel them break apart in the wind. Trillions of lives gone. They feel the reflections of the loss, but they cannot let that affect them. They must remain focused on the task in hand.
And then the wave breaks upon Murray. The Gateway falls first, taking the initial brunt of the storm. After all, it is newer than the rest of the world, its foundations less strong. They try to maintain the defences, but it is an uphill struggle. The grandfather feels the edges of the world begin to crack, to fail. The two men redouble their efforts, reducing the amount of area they can protect in the hope that that will strengthen the defence around the place were they stand. Rocks are ripped away, tsunami and earthquakes shake the land, the archipelagos drown, and the planet begins to break apart. The grandfather feels the souls of those he created as they leave their bodies and pass to the Halls of Waiting: too many of them live close to sea level and the waves take them. He tries not to feel their pain and fear as they pass, but it takes so much effort not to drown within it.
He wills himself to become one with the Jewel he holds, both to insulate him from the dying and to bolster his efforts to save what remains. He draws the power out of it, and finally begins to feel an area of stability forming around him. His grandson shifts his focus from helping in his own regard, to bolstering his grandfather's personal efforts. The years of training together begin to pay off and they feel a section of land growing firm beneath them.
Finally, after what seems like an eternity, the storm begins to subside and soon the wave has passed. The guardians stand, exhausted, the grandfather bearing the death of those he cannot save, but not allowing himself to mourn until he knows the rest are safe. He casts about him and finds that where once there was a continent the size of Europe, home to millions of people, all that remains is an area about fifty miles in radius from where he and his grandson stand. Everything else is gone. Further out he feels for the Shadows he tried to save so long ago. Probably half of them failed to stand and have broken apart: the others can be repaired and restored, and joined once more to their parent world, while in time new worlds should come into being in place of those which are lost. But it will be a long, hard task, and one which will need to be shared with his grandson and those others of his family who truly understand the Pattern.
Then he considers what remains of the great continent of Hereadh. Buildings are damaged, but many still stand. People are injured, but many have survived. He feels for their souls to estimate the death toll. Of the original population of this world, maybe a fifth have survived, and all are crammed into the lands around Huntly, save the 50,000 who could be evacuated before the wave hit. Accommodations will need to be built for them, and the land surrounding them laid over to feeding them until such time as more permanent repairs can be made. Hopefully before the cold of winter strikes.
The grandfather looks about him with a great sadness, feeling the weight of the dead upon him, moved to tears by the loss he bears. His grandson rests a comforting hand on his shoulder.
"It was built before...it can be built again," he says quietly.
"But it will not be the same," comes the answer.
"I have faith in you. You will do what you can, and this place will rise again from the ruins."
* * * * *
I awoke, to find myself shivering in a cold sweat, staring up at the ceiling of my rooms in Sable Palace. I could still feel the echoes of the souls of those I could not save, and see the images of the wave of destruction which killed so many worlds. The dreams had been plaguing me for days, since James and I had fought our battle against the inevitable. From what he'd told me since, my grandson had at least been spared that, although he had taken several days to recover from the physical and mental exhaustion of helping me.
Beside me, Claire turned onto her side and sighed in her sleep, unaware that I had woken. I slipped quietly out of bed, trying not to disturb her, and headed for the shower to try to wash away the residue of the dream.
So many souls lost. And somewhere, inside me, I could feel the weight of all of them. To bear it was hard, but there were so few people I could talk to about it. Who helps the therapist? I wasn't sure even Adam would be up for this one, given his inherent difficulty with understanding the part of my nature that changed when I Created and became responsible for so many lives.
The one thing that was inescapable, though, was that I would need to rebuild what was lost and try to remember the people, in the hope that that would make up for what I couldn't save. Rebuild, or perhaps improve, so that such a disaster could not strike again.
But how to do it? Plan A involved making sure I had a firm enough picture in my mind of the 'new' Murray, and then walking the Murray Pattern with the Jewel to reimpose that view on what remained, helping it to grow once more into a world, rather than a remnant. Then I would need to re-establish the metaphysical links to its dependent Shadows, which could then be walked by some of the family to rebuild the paths between them, thus hopefully stabilising them before any more of them were destroyed by being detached from a guardian power. Once they were anchored, others should grow to fill the gaps left by those lost to the wave.
So what needed to change if Murray were to be improved? Firming up the Gateway, for one thing, so that it was an integral part of the Shadow, rather than an afterthought as had been the one lost to the wave. Controlled access to the sea, with building restricted below a certain distance above sea level, would help protect against other tsunami in the future, and perhaps some kind of magical early warning system could be put in place. Making the world more geologically stable – not that I thought it was particularly unstable before – would also benefit those who were left and give more land for their successors.
Would one landmass, as before, be better, or would several – fewer eggs in one basket? I pondered that one and decided that what had saved them was the power of the Pattern, and James and myself, and that the configuration of the landmasses wouldn't have made a difference. It wasn't that some of the land was sunk. It had just ceased to exist and been ripped out into the void between Shadows.
However, a new double continent had a certain appeal, perhaps with the land protecting the Pattern between the two, in the hope that it would give stability to both. An island based around what remained of Murray now, with the continents either side of it, would at least give a refuge in the event of a future catastrophe on the scale of this one – although my every hope was that this was a one-off. Perhaps one continent could be the base of operations for off-world visitors and trade while the other could be for the people of Murray to live and work, and the central island of Huntly could be the interface between the two. It would also improve the security of Murray Gateway if the entrance onto the world from the Rest of Creation was in a more neutral location.
And the souls of those I could not save? Maybe some were still in the Hall of Waiting and could be returned to their former selves and former lives, or at least given the opportunity to take another turn on the Wheel of Life. And suddenly I had to go and find out what was there.
* * * * *
I dried myself off then dressed quietly, before considered from where to undertake the trip to the Halls to see what, if anything was there to be saved. When I'd visited before, I had done it from the Primal Pattern chamber, but back then it was attached directly to the Sable universe, whereas that was no longer the case. Maybe, given the origin of the souls I sought, Murray would be the better point of origin. I therefore concentrated on the Pattern and transported myself to the Murray Pattern chamber. Part of it had fallen during unsuccessful defence against the wave, but James and I had repaired it as best we could a couple of days later, and so the whole Pattern was clear – albeit there were loose rocks piled to one side, awaiting safe disposal.
I walked the Pattern to its heart, and then sat cross-legged in the centre, and sent my astral body upwards, towards the Halls of Waiting. This time, I couldn't see Sable and the Commonwealth beneath me: just the void where the Shadows that had died had been, and the broken links between them. I hadn't expected to see the fractured strands so clearly, but then, astral projection is a far from scientific art. Still, perhaps being able to visualise them thus would help when it came to rebuilding the links.
I was still musing over this when the pseudo-walls of the Hall came into view. This time, however, I could see the lights of the lost and waiting souls outside, unable to gain access, as numerous as the stars in the sky. I came to ground in front of the door, outside of which one of the Clerks- the vaguely humanoid, spectral figures who administer the life records and chose the destinations of the dead – was standing, obviously on guard.
"You must wait..." he began, as if by rote, but then looked up and met my eyes, and I saw him go pale, if such a being can do that, and fall to one knee.
"My Lord," he said, quietly, his tone indicating barely suppressed tears, "forgive me. There are so many..."
I gestured for him to rise, filled with horror and sympathy at what I was seeing. I felt a lump in my throat and swallowed. No wonder my dreams were full of the restless dead.
"May I enter?"
"Of course, Lord," came the answer, and he opened the door just wide enough to allow me entrance. Behind me I felt a surge from the waiting souls, as they tried to pass inside the door, but the Clerk gestured, and they were held back until the door was closed.
As I entered the grey, apparently roofless expanse of the Halls, I saw that they were filled with bundles of light of differing strengths, so many that there was no room for any others in here, and the usually calm atmosphere was charged with hopelessness, suffering, loss and pain. It was stifling. I moved in further and looked around, and after a few moments I met the gaze of Athanasius, the Chief Clerk of the Halls of Waiting, his eyes sunken with exhaustion as he spoke with a group of other Clerks. I hadn't realised that they could feel like that - they aren't human in the usual sense - but that was the overriding impression from him. And he needed comfort. He recognised me, and walked over, almost prostrating himself as he came before me, before I stopped him.
"I do not understand, Lord," he said, after a moment, and I could hear such exhaustion in his tone, "there are too many...what calamity could have caused this to happen? Is this the Day of Judgement?"
"No, but there has been a disaster beyond measure and imagination, "I answered, quietly, trying to keep my shock out of my tone, "Many worlds have been destroyed, too many to protect them all."
"Lord, nothing like this could be your fault," he said, with blind faith and frightening certainty, "and you should take no blame. You will make this right."
No pressure, then...
"Have many passed beyond?" I asked, "or been sent back for another turn on the Wheel?"
"Perhaps a fifth of those who arrived together. But so many at once...it is proving difficult to send them onwards in a timely fashion. I have never struggled so hard before to complete my duties."
"I will do what I can to relieve the situation, Athanasius," trying to reassure him, "my word on it. But to allow me do that, I need to walk the Halls, to feel for who is still here, so that I can do what I can."
"You will make this right, Lord" he repeated, and then, with a respectful nod, and leaving me to do as I wished, he moved off to rejoin the other Clerks, who shortly afterwards dispersed to see to their duties.
Once he had gone, I began to wander through the seemingly endless succession of identical rooms. It was impossible to recognise individual souls among so many, but I could feel that they belonged to me in that way I always find disturbing. I reached out to them and began to recognise which of them had died untimely with Murray, which with its Shadows, and which had come from the worlds of Sable and had merely had the misfortune to reach their time in the wake of the disaster. I spread myself pretty thinly, touching those which needed to be brought home, the differences in their strength and reality helping confirm their points of origin. Hopefully, when it came to restoring that which was gone, I would be able to call them to their rightful homes.
I don't know how much later it was – it seemed like an eternity, but then time as such does not exist in the Halls – but I eventually walked outside once more. I repeated the same process with the remaining souls, and finally knew I had enough to work with. As I followed the silver cord of my lifeline back to my body, I noticed that it seemed weaker, fainter than I was expecting, which startled me somewhat. Maybe as I'd marked those who needed to come home, that was the energy I had marked them with.
I was still pondering how that could be as I saw my body come into view, and noticed that it was prone, not seated, with someone else kneeling over it. I snapped back home and opened my eyes, and found myself looking up at James, his dark hair tousled, and his face a picture of concern, and I realised I felt very, very cold.
"Grandfather..." he said, and I could feel waves of relief coming from him, "are you alright?"
"How long have I been out?"
"I found you about five hours ago – I have no idea how long you'd been unconscious before that," he replied, "but I didn't dare move you from here, as I couldn't exactly figure out what you were doing. It was as if your soul wasn't in your body, and you feel as cold as ice."
"Help me up," I said, quietly, "I need to get somewhere warm."
He hauled me to my feet, and it was all I could do not to slump against him. Then I felt him command the Pattern to take us up to Huntly Palace, and we arrived in the Rose Drawing Room. The clock on the mantelpiece said three-fifteen and outside I could see the weak early-November sunshine. He deposited me in an armchair beside a blazing fire, and then set off in search of servants to bring blankets and hot food.
As I was tucking into hot chocolate and toasted sandwiches, about ten minutes later, Claire blew into the room like a hurricane. The worry she was feeling hit me like a wall down the link we share. I looked up at her and gave a weak smile.
"Hello, love," I said, mildly
"Robert...what happened?" she asked, concerned, not angry (which would have been her other usual reaction).
"I woke up and couldn't get back to sleep, so I went to run an errand."
"An errand? Robert, where have you been? I woke this morning you and weren't there. I looked for you in Sable but there was no sign of you, so I asked the family if they'd seen you. James said he'd look to see if you were in Murray – I know you've been here a lot helping with the rebuilding since the wave – but that was about six hours ago, and he only just got back in touch."
"I fancy I gave him rather a scare," I answered, as lightly as I could manage.
"That's putting it mildly," James commented, wryly, from across the room, as he came back in Claire's wake.
"You gave more than him a scare, de Lacy," she replied, as he joined us, "have you had a doctor look at you?"
"Not yet...but I'm sure I'm just tired. A good night's – day's – sleep will see me right."
"Let me be the judge of that," she answered, sitting on the arm of my chair, and I felt her begin to concentrate magically. As she did, I could feel her worry increasing, and when she opened her eyes, I could see fear.
"What is it?"
"You're far from alright," she retorted, "you're weak, dehydrated, undernourished, and..."
"And?"
"You don't seem anything like as...vital...as I'm used to you being."
"Which means what?" James asked as he sat down opposite us, concern still on his face.
"Meaning it normally feels as if he's overflowing with life, with energy – I always put that down to your Creating Sable, Robert, as that's when I first felt it, and the only time it has ever been missing since was after the Courtroom, when you were more dead than alive. But at the moment you feel stretched, diminished. What have you done? What were you doing in the centre of the Pattern?"
I pulled my eyes away from her, and looked at the mug of hot chocolate between my hands, feeling the warmth from it, and trying to in vain draw it into myself to warm my very soul. But the internal chill remained.
"There are so many of them, Claire. I had to do something..." I said, quietly.
"So many of what?"
"The dead."
"What are you talking about?"
"The people killed by the wave. They're still waiting to move on, and I'm the only person who can help them."
"Grandfather, you're not making any sense," James said, confused.
I glanced up them both, seeing worry as well as fear now.
"I went to the Halls of Waiting. But there are too many of them to fit within them. The Clerks can't cope."
"I still don't understand..."
"Where the souls of the dead go when they pass."
"You've lost me," he answered, glancing at Claire who looked equally baffled.
I shook my head, realising that this was a mechanic of my creation which I hadn't shared with anyone, even Andrew after his return from there.
"Never mind. The specifics aren't important. But what is, is that there are too many of them, and I have to bring them home."
"Home how...?" Claire asked.
"By restoring Murray and its Shadows and calling them back."
"Grandfather, what are you talking about?" James asked, impatiently.
"Yes...you're making no sense at all," Claire added, "did you take a bang on the head?"
"No, no bang on the head," I answered, pretty sure that that was the case, "I'll need to work on the specifics. As I rebuild from what's left, I'm going to have to pull them back to their lives."
"But the bodies are gone..."
"If I get it right, that'll be fixed as I rebuild," I answered, "look, currently this is all theory. I need to work on the specifics. But I need to do it soon."
"What did you do, Robert?" Claire repeated, her tone suddenly suspicious.
"I tried to give them hope," I answered, "but it seems to have taken more out of me than I expected."
She locked eyes with me, but I realised I didn't have any fight left in me.
"I need to sleep, now," I said, finally, "we can discuss this later."
And putting down the now-empty mug, I concentrated briefly and transferred myself upstairs to the suite I maintained on Murray, covered myself in quilts and blankets, and let myself pass out.
* * * * *
When I awoke and looked at the clock on the bedside table, I could see that it was about three in the morning. Of Claire there was no sign, which slightly surprised me, but perhaps she'd headed home once she saw I was okay...or at least breathing. I had no idea if I'd been asleep for twelve hours or thirty-six, but at least I felt vaguely human. I could still feel the coldness within me, though, the emptiness of the lost who I had to save.
I rose, bathed, dressed and then crossed the lounge to the study in my suite, lit the fire and got it blazing. Then I began to try to work through, more logically, how I was going to do this. The previous night – two night's ago – whichever – I'd come up with the form of what I wanted. Now I needed the substance and method. The linking in of the souls to their restored bodies was an added complication – before I had thought that the people would be starting from scratch - but having seen them, it had to be done. Of course, it would need a Jewel. The trouble was, the Shadow paths to the other worlds would need re-establishing at the same time, as many of the souls in the Halls came from there as well and needed a route home, which was also going to need a Jewel. So the task would involve two of us, solving two separate problems, with only one tool to use to complete both.
Faced with that seemingly insoluble problem, I bent my mind to comments that both Dworkin and Brand had made in my pre-Creation lessons: that once someone is sufficiently adept with Pattern, magic or both, they could actually draw on themselves and their own abilities to achieve similar effects to those a less studied individual could only obtain with a physical Jewel. They hadn't gone into specifics, as at that time I hadn't been ready or able to use those techniques, but my skills has vastly improved in the intervening years, which meant that there was a reasonable chance that I was now good enough to do that.
I spent the next while examining myself, my abilities, what it was to be a Creator, and what I knew of both magic and the Pattern, and working through how such a thing could be achieved, and as I bent my mind to the problem, it began to make sense. Perhaps the knowledge was inherent to one such as me, and you only needed to seek it for it to be made known to you.
I was working through my fifth pot of coffee, and pondering that particular twist of metaphysics, when there was a knock on the door.
"Yes?" I said, glancing at the clock. Nine o'clock. I'd been working nearly six hours.
The door opened, and James walked in.
"Hey," I said, with a weak smile.
"Bloody hell it's roasting in here, grandfather," he said, glancing at the fire in the grate before sitting on the chair in front of my desk.
"I hadn't noticed," I answered, feeling anything but too hot.
"Really?" he asked, obviously curious, "still, you do look better...and at least you've got some colour back in your cheeks."
"If you say so. I still feel like crap."
I noticed concern on his face, but instead of commented, he asked: "Have you eaten yet today?"
"No...I seem to have forgotten that little nicety."
"Claire thought that would probably be the case, so she's ordered me to make sure you keep your strength up."
"Where is she?"
"She's downstairs in the dining room, waiting to see if I can excavate you from here. Coming?"
"I guess," I answered and got to my feet, although I felt a little giddy, and it took a moment or two to stabilise myself as I did. Once I was recovered, though, I fell into step beside him, and we headed downstairs.
"I'm going to need your help again, I'm afraid," I commented as we walked, and he moved to support me, but I waved him away, "not like that. With sorting out the problem."
"We can discuss it later," he said, firmly.
"It can't be that much later," I answered, "I'm not going to be able to hold the soul links for long: it'll have to be after we've eaten."
"Claire won't let you. She doesn't think you're fit enough."
"I'm not going to get any fitter until this is fixed," I answered, my tone matter of fact, as we walked into the family dining room, and were assailed by the wonderful aroma of fried bacon. Across the room I saw Claire, getting to her feet and coming over. She put her arms over my shoulders and gave me a good morning kiss.
"Are you okay?" she asked, quietly.
"I will be when I've fixed this. Where did you go last night?"
"I was needed back in Sable...but that's sorted now," she answered, "Robert, you'll give it time, won't you? Before you do anything too strenuous?"
I looked at her, and shook my head.
"It can't wait. But you know, after it's done, maybe we should take a holiday."
"You, Robert of Sable, are proposing a holiday? Where do you have in mind?"
"I'm sure we can find somewhere in Sable Shadow to go for a few years."
"A few years?" she asked incredulously.
"It won't seem like that for everyone else. Maybe two or three weeks back home."
"De Lacy, you're blathering again."
"This has been a bit of an eye-opener for me. I need some time to think about it. And I seem to remember we've been talking about taking Alban to fast time for a while."
"Talking about it...I never actually believed you would do it," she replied.
"Why not?"
"Well...oh, never mind. It's probably not a bad idea, although it's unlike you to drop everything while you still have something so major to work out."
"As I said, what is required here here needs to be done sooner, rather than later. Today, in fact. But you know what they say. All work and no play makes Robert a dull boy."
Leaving her looking slightly startled, I headed for the sideboard, and loaded a plate with bacon, sausage and eggs, and after a few moments, when it was obvious I wasn't going to elucidate, she followed suit. I glanced over at James who shrugged and joined the feast.
Half an hour later, having got through at least three refills of bacon, I felt better.
"I'm going to borrow James for a while, now," I said to her, "we need to get to work. Are you okay to watch the fort? If I get this right, there are going to be some very surprised people by the time we've finished."
"If you get it right?"
"Okay, when I get this right," I answered, although with more confidence than I felt.
"I'm still trying to figure out if you've gone crazy overnight," she commented, wryly, but I only smiled in reply.
* * * * *
"So, what's the plan," James asked as we returned to my study with coffee pot number six – not counting the supply in the dining room.
"If I've figured this out correctly, I'm going to need concentrate on rebuilding Murray. Which means I won't be able to work on the Shadows which should be connected to it. My original thought was for you, your father and maybe some of your cousins, to rewalk the Shadow paths once Murray was rebuilt, to re-establish the broken links. However, I now realise that isn't going to work."
"Why?"
"To put it bluntly, the souls of the dead need to get home quicker than that, and currently they can't get there."
"You keep talking about them going home? They're dead."
"No, they're waiting – in limbo. I can bring them back to the material world. It's just going to take a little work, and to do it, they need to be able to get to where they came from."
"You're planning on making a zombie army?" he asked, incredulous, "isn't that what you normally get when you put a soul into a body after they've separated? I seem to think that the Magical Oversight Committee takes a dim view of that kind of thing."
"Creation doesn't work like that."
"Creation?"
"Yes...effectively, I'm planning on recreating those people along with the land, so the souls are provided with bodies that are part of them, and can become one again."
"But you're talking about millions...billions...trillions of souls?" he asked, his eyes slightly wide as he tried to take it in, "how could you possibly get it right? Where will they come from?"
"They're part of me. Why the heck do you think I've been feeling so shitty since I got back?" I retorted.
"But..."
"Look, in this you're going to have to trust me. I have no intention of creating a zombie army. And you come in because I'm going to need you working with the Jewel to reconnect the Shadows which were separated by the wave. I'll deal with rebuilding Murray and the Murray Gateway, and looking after the people."
"But if I've got the Jewel, what are you going to use?"
"Strength of will, and one or two other tricks I've spent the morning figuring out. Will you help me?"
"Why me?" he answered, and to me he seemed frightened of the magnitude of the task ahead of us, "Why not Andrew? He's a Creator."
"It's exactly because he's a Creator that he can't do this: his links aren't to the Sable universe any more. Also, you know Murray better than anyone except me ever could...and your skill with the Pattern is way better than his is ever going to be. That's why I needed you to help me defend the place..."
"For all the good it did..."
"The Pattern wasn't damaged...and hey, you were the one who said it could be built again," I said, meeting his yes, "James, you can do this. I know you can."
"Thanks for the vote of confidence," he answered, although I wasn't sure he believed me, "where and when?"
"We'll need to be in the Pattern chamber. I'll walk the Pattern itself, and I'm hoping that you'll be able to work with the physical Jewel. As for when...now would seem as good a time as any."
"Grandfather, are you physically up to this?"
"I'm going to have to be," I answered, "it can't wait. I just need to go and fetch the Jewel, and I'll meet you downstairs in fifteen minutes."
* * * * *
James was already there when I walked in, and I crossed to him and handed him the black diamond, mounted on a white gold chain, which was the Sable Jewel.
"You've used it before. You'll be fine," I said.
"I hope you're right," came his answer, and I could tell he was still nervous.
"I am," I answered, confident of his abilities, "You're the best pupil I've ever had. Now, we form an arcane connection, then you start. Once I feel the first cross-world links being re-established, I'll start walking. And hopefully, that'll mean that the paths to let the souls and bodies reconnect will be in place by the time I need them. I'd make yourself comfortable if I were you...this is going to take a while."
He crossed to the pile of boulders and sat down, and then I saw him enter a trance and felt as he made the connection to the Jewel. I also felt for the Jewel, linking myself to it so that I could feel what he was doing on a subconscious level, and then we were ready. On my word, he sent his Pattern senses out beyond the remains of Murray, to feel for the Shadows beyond. Once I was satisfied that his task was under way, I brought my mental Pattern to mind, imposing on it the three-dimensional representation of it within the Jewel to create a 3-D Pattern lens to draw on in lieu of the Jewel itself, and I took the first step onto the physical sign.
It was Creating, and yet not Creating – bringing matter into being, but having a base to work from - and it took me a few minutes to get used to the sensation. Then I began to will Murray to grow out from its 100 mile diameter remnant, becoming once more a whole world set in a full solar system. I visualised the pair of continents – one reminiscent of the now-lost continent of Hereadh in form, if only covering half the area, to the east of me; the other, of similar size to the west. Belenus, the bright one. Then I wove mountains, valleys, fields and forests, as well as cities for the people, albeit cities which would need further building once the population recovered. Once the physical world was rebuilt, I worked on the Murray Gateway, re-founding it on Belenus, giving it a link to the rest of Murray which it had never had before, and setting in stone the defences around it which would mean that anyone coming to Murray would arrive there and no other place, unless James or I chose otherwise. From there they could enter, but at least we would know who they were.
The sphere of the world closed as I pierced the First Veil, and then I began feeling for the connections to the souls in the Halls of Waiting, and started concentrating on rebuilding the bodies they would need to come back. I lost myself in the moment, knowing that if I tried to do anything consciously, I would fail. It was up to that intangible part of me which was a Creator, and had brought them into being in the first place, relying on what I was and the fact that everything in the world was connected to me in some way I've never understood. Only that instinct could remake those who were lost and bring the right spirits to their rightful physical bodies.
By the Second Veil, I was confident that all those residents of Murray who could be re-formed had been - although I could feel that there were only half as many as there had been before. The realisation filled me with sadness, but I couldn't allow myself the time to mourn. Not yet, anyway. Instead, I bent my concentration back to the task in hand, let myself go into the moment once more, and repeated the process with the stranded souls from the Murray Shadows which still existed. Then, once they were back where they belonged, I allowed myself to cheat a little, and set about reincarnating those whose worlds were gone into new existence in those worlds which remained.
Through the arcane link between us, I could feel that James was about two-thirds the way through rebuilding the links to those worlds, and I started re-forming the lost in his wake. As I struggled through the Third Veil, I felt him complete his task. He was obviously exhausted, and was drawing on the Jewel merely to stay conscious. I gently sent him a command to sleep, and as the Jewel dropped from his fingers, I brought it to me, slipped the chain around my neck, and finished what needed to be done. The final work – confirmation of the links, and a check that the souls I had effectively been carrying were home – took the last few steps, and at last I was standing in the centre of the Pattern once more.
I was tired, but the coldness in my soul was gone and I felt exhilarated. Still, there was one last thing I had to do. I sat down, and sent my astral self to the Halls once more. I was immeasurably relieved when it arrived and I saw that the waiting souls were gone from outside. The Clerk on the door almost managed a smile as he saw me, and let me in immediately. As I walked through, the atmosphere within seemed calmer, more as it should be, and the bundles of light within were dramatically reduced in number: there were maybe slightly more than the first time I'd visited, but certainly not the overload of before.
Across the first Hall I saw Athanasius, his face buried in a book of records, and walked over to him, and as I approached he looked up at me and smiled beatifically, a look of reverence on his face.
"Things have improved..." I commented.
"I knew they would once you were aware that help was needed, Lord," he said, simply.
"I'm glad your faith in me wasn't misplaced."
"Why would it be? You are the Lord and Creator of all," he answered, and the fact that he believed that so strongly made me uncomfortable, as always. Lord and Creator of Sable, yes, but not Lord and Creator of all. That was a title for another being. Not that I was intending to get into a long, religious argument with the Chief Clerk.
"All will be well now," I said, with a confidence I hoped wouldn't be misplaced, "Is there anything else you need from me, Athanasius?"
"No, Lord. Things will be back to normal again soon...just the last few to process."
I nodded, thanked him for his time – which seemed to shock him rigid...if someone semi-corporeal can ever be described as that - and made my way out. Then I followed the silver cord back down to my body, taking comfort in the fact that its usual strength and brightness had returned. I must have done something right. I snapped into my body and brought myself around, then stood up and did a self-check. Tired, hungry, filthy, clothing ripped – shapeshift does that to you - but basically okay. Once I was satisfied of that, I took myself over to where my grandson was still sleeping and picked him up. Then I brought the Pattern to mind and jumped us both up to the palace, where I got James safely to his quarters, so he could rest and recuperate at leisure. We could debrief when we were both feeling more up to it.
That done, I headed back across the corridor to my own suite, feeling warm for the first time in what seemed like a lifetime. I tucked the Jewel away in its usual storage place when I'm in Murray, and then walked into the bathroom and plunged myself under the shower. I stood for a long while and let the water soak over me, enjoying the massaging effect on my tired limbs. After about twenty minutes, I sighed and stepped out, wrapping myself in a luxuriously soft towelling robe. I glanced in the mirror and noticed that I could do with a shave, as well, and was still scraping when Claire came in.
"You seem better, love," she said, putting her arms around my waist. I put down the razor and turned to face her, kissing her as I did.
"It's done," I said, as I pulled back, "and I no longer feel like I have the weight of worlds on me."
"Let me take a look," she said, and concentrated for a few minutes, then smiled, "yes. Definitely better. Much more yourself."
Then she looked me in the eyes and added, more soberly "I was scared, Robert. I thought you were dying."
"I'm sorry, Claire. That wasn't my intention. I just couldn't think of how else to preserve them until I could help them. But I didn't realise what it would do to me. Still at least I've learned for next time."
"I really hope there isn't a next time," she answered, quietly, and I agreed wholeheartedly. Then her expression brightened, and a mischievous glint came into her eyes, "So, de Lacy, do you have any plans for the next couple of hours?"
I smiled, and kissed her deeply.
"Food and sleep were high on the list. But I guess they can wait if that interferes with anything you have planned," I replied.
"I had one or two ideas in mind," she replied with a wicked smile, "if you feel up to it."
"Oh, I'm sure I'll manage," I answered, chuckling, and together we headed back to the bedroom, to celebrate the return of life to Murray and its Shadows.