There was really no way of knowing just how long he'd been walking. In this timeless place, days passed between seconds of real time. Many physical laws were suspended here. It was just as well, he thought, as it gave him time to think. He'd drifted through the Stand for what seemed weeks. Weaving his way around the towering tombstones, growing less fond of the idea of becoming another monument with each step. But at last he left the ultimate graveyard behind, to merge into the haze of the southern horizon.
There was no landscape here to speak of. Every horizon was basically the same, flat, featureless, unbroken with the rare exception of an outcropping of rock. It reminded him of the salt flats in California, without the mountain ranges to border it. But it was just as dead, maybe more so. He hadn't slept in days, it had to have been days. The last he remembered was in the alley. It was finally taking it's toll on him, his nerves were at their end of tolerance. Soon he would have to sleep, and when he did, they would come for him. They had been following him for some time now, gnawing at the corners of his exhaustion, waiting, like vultures.
Still, they were far enough away that he might be able to catch a quick nap before they were upon him. He sighed, he knew this was coming, and wasn't looking forward to it. Maybe some good would come of it,...somehow. At least it was a positive attitude, even if it were for nothing.
The winds of the upper atmosphere had pulled a thick cloud cover across most of the sky. Higher up, the cirrus clouds had caught fire in the setting sun, making it look as if Heaven itself were burning. It was for him.
Climbing up into a group of large rocks, he settled himself in a wide fissure. A last look at the setting sun, a name whispered into the wind, and he closed his eyes.
He awoke to a warm wind howling insistently in his ears. They were coming. They couldn't be seen yet, but through the rock he could feel them moving. This was bad,...very bad. Though they rarely traveled alone, he had never felt anything like this. To the east he could make out some motion. It looked like a dust cloud, or a sand storm. It was the source of the rumbling he felt steadily growing underfoot. He found his sword in his hand, but knew it would not stop the inevitable. Again the wind whistled around him, as if trying to get his attention. A dark, ominous sky hung just above the approaching dust storm, as if it were waiting for something.
Waiting,...yes. That's exactly what it was doing, and the wind was trying to tell him that. It seemed he had lost the will to hear the subtle pleas for his attention. But he understood now.
It had been so long, but his soul moved to the melody of the summoner's song, and it was not easily forgotten. Jumping up to the top of the tallest rock, he turned to the east. They were still miles off, but they were approaching at a frightening rate.
He removed them from his attention, found his center, and took a cleansing breath. The sky went silent and still in anticipation. The wind ceased it's urging.
In a soft voice, he began to sing the arcane words of a lost language. He had never actually known the translation, only the angel Raziel would know such things.
Thunderheads on the far horizon built themselves into towering engines of war in response to the summons. The wind reached hurricane proportions as it circled around him at a distance. The sky came to life in all directions. Carried on the converging jet streams, the storm clouds raced to the singer. From moment to moment the flat bottom of dozens of cumulonimbus grew darker, as they grew heavier with water. Many were nearly solid black.
As the approaching dust cloud was at last swept away by the raging winds, he looked on the face of the enemy.
Nightmares.
They reminded him of Sarai. Sleek, black, red eyes filled with an insatiable hunger. They were driven beyond any form of control to strike fear into the hearts and minds of the sleeping. Any one of them was larger than the largest shire on record. Their sharp, steely hooves cut deeply into the ground as they ran, muscles strained to the breaking point as they threw themselves at their intended victim.
He loathed these things. After dealing with them all his life, he was now in a position to thank them for all they had done for him,...and to him. He had no idea how many there were. The dust they continued to kick up obscured their numbers. But there were far to many to approach the outcropping of rock he stood on all at once.
Gritting his teeth, he found the core of his anger and released it to the wind. The storm was there instantly. Sheets of lightning fell from every direction, striking among the herd. He could hear their screams of pain, and see their bodies flying through the air as they were repeatedly struck down. The thunder was constant, and the storms attack threw them into disarray. The winds increased in speed and ferocity, sweeping many of the creatures completely off their feet. Those who fell were trampled by those behind, pounding them into the dust. Once fallen, there was no hope of recovering. As the herd broke ranks, the rain began. Within moments, it was so heavy that visibility was severely reduced. More confusion, and more of them fell to the ground to be stomped into the mud by razor sharp hooves. They quickly spread out around him on all sides in an attempt to gain access, but the storm kept them at bey. Their inability to reach him had driven them insane with frustration, and they began to turn on each other. Even through the incessant thunder, and torrential rain, he could hear the anguish in their voices as they tore at one another.
He stood watching the melee, water pouring over him. In the darkness, with the lighting strikes, it was like watching a movie with most of the frames missing. It made him realize how senseless it all seemed. He almost felt pity for the poor creatures, to be committed to such an existence. Then one of them broke from the hysteria and bolted straight for him. Leaping up from one rock to the next, it tried to make it's way to him. It wouldn't be able to reach him physically, but if it managed to get close enough, it could strike fear into him, even terror. Losing control to fear could be 'game over' in this situation.
His halo came to life in preparation, but the beast was unmoved. It's hooves skittered across the slick stones as it tried to negotiate the surface, paying no mind to the blue-violet radiance around him.
With the first twinge of fear, he set it free. The blast from his halo expanded like a cement wall at mach 3, catching the nightmare broadside, it was thrown far out into the darkness, crushed and mangled.
He turned his face to the sky. The mass of clouds slowly spun overhead like a hurricane around it's eye. Lightning continued to fell the demon creatures everywhere he looked. Another made it within 100 feet of him, only to be struck in the forehead by a branch of high voltage vengeance. It plowed headlong into the muddy water, the contents of it's skull reduced to ash. The sky had become an immense light show, the clouds bursting with arcs of red, violet and blue. Something else caught his eye to the south, something massive that had been lit briefly by a flash of lightning.
A funnel cloud.
Feathery tendrils spun slowly at first around the center of it, then quickly picked up speed as they were sucked into the vacuum it created. Muddy water was drawn up to anchor it to the ground.
Illuminated by the constant electrical flashes, he could see dozens of dark forms helplessly gathered up and thrown in all directions like so much confetti. It was moving too fast for them to outrun, and it's drunken path made it impossible to predict. It continued to hack it's way through them, lofting them high in the air before slamming them to the ground like a child angry with a toy. They were being slaughtered by the dozens, too confused to move clear of danger, and too consumed by their own hunger to retreat. He was amazed and dismayed by their tenacity. Driven to their own destruction.
He remembered too well all the suffering they had caused him over so many years. How could he possibly feel bad for them now? Maybe it was just their ignorance he was sorry for.
Spreading his wings, he stepped from his vantage point. The torrential rains had raised the water level nearly to his knees, but it didn't matter. A few of them suddenly realized that he was within reach, and charged him full speed.
His halo seemed like the tiniest spark of light compared to the monstrous arcs coming from the storm, but it was more than enough. Five of them rushed him at once, their speed considerably slowed by the water. A wave of fear washed over him suddenly, like ice water. He was expecting it, but that made it no less difficult to deal with. His body began to shake almost uncontrollably, and he found himself doubting his ability to make it through this alive. What would he do, was he strong enough for this? He thought about escape.
Finding her face in his mind once again, he centered, and pushed.
And again his halo expanded outward at mach speed, sending water, mud, and twisted bodies in all directions. He had no more need to fear these things.
The tornado had broken apart, having destroyed most of the remaining creatures. Leaving the area littered with carcasses. Only a few survived, and they were too stunned, and weary of the battle to be any real threat.
But if there was anything he knew about nightmares, it was that they always returned. They drew their existence from the pain, fear, and doubt in every soul, and it was always there. And they would always come. But as with most things, it was never quite that simple. They carried a tremendous burden. They were a true paradox. Their very nature ensured their own destruction. In driving their frightening visions before them through dreams, they forced the dreamer to evaluate the situations represented. If time was taken to understand the symbolism, the nightmares could be slain. The more terrifying the dream images, the stronger was the need to understand, and heal. Some people wouldn't listen to anything less. Some didn't listen at all. Those feelings could paralyze a person if they weren't dealt with. He'd seen it in himself, and so many others. And here he had reached an understanding. The storm, the symbol of who he was. The nightmares, the symbols of his self-image. In relying on who he truly was, he'd overcome that image, even in the face of such overwhelming odds against it.
Maybe he was good enough, strong enough, or just 'enough'. It came from the soul, the spirit,...not the mind. The mind could, and would, always find reasons for denial. But the soul would always know the truth. Maybe it was time to stop sleeping in the fire.
He hadn't noticed the silence, too lost in his own thoughts. The wind was still, the few remaining mares were nowhere to be found, and the storm had given way to a starry sky.
Climbing back up into the rocks, he settled back again. A partial moon shined through the high cirrus clouds, casting a rainbow halo. He sighed.
"I miss you,...," he whispered, as sleep softly cloaked him. "Li amo."
