GHOST OF A CHANCE_CHAPTER 39_WHEN THE STARS DROWN IN DARKNESS

{I am the Turquoise Woman.

Each life ends.

Whether it ends in whimpering

or in courage depends upon the soul facing that end.

It is, in fact, the only true epitaph your kind leaves.

DreamSinger, whom you know as Roland,

has entered the realm some call Hell to rescue Samuel McCord, whom he breathed into life with his words.

Now, riding Epona, the last unicorn, with Death behind him and Lakota Spirit Warriors beside him,

DreamSinger faces what seems to be the end. Let the words from his strange journal take it from here ....}



A distant roar sounded from all around us. Oh, crap.

Bristling along the horizon encircling us, hundreds of lost souls, creatures, and demons charged to replace their slain brothers.

I twisted around towards Death to see if she would scream again.

She sadly shook her head. "We near my Avatar and Samuel. I dare not scream again."

My heart went sick and cold as a familiar voice, DayStar's, laughed to my far right. "Do you know what the third white meat is? Cat!"

I saw only his hands appear out of thin air. They held Gypsy, my cat, her eyes wild with fear.

DayStar's hands hurled her directly in the path of the charging monstrosities of Hell.

She yowled, and I could have sworn it sounded like my name.

I tugged on Epona's mane to head for Gyspy. Death placed a bitter cold hand on my shoulder.

"We cannot turn. My Avatar and Samuel are close."

"Fine!," I snapped. "Have a great trip."

With a grunt of pain, I flipped my leg over Epona's head, scratching it on her razored tusk. I slipped off and hit the ground in a run towards Gypsy.

Sitting Bull yelled after me. "She is just a cat."

"Wrong! She's MY cat."

A minotaur lunged for me. I slashed across his eyes with Marlene's saber that healed. The manbull bleated shrilly.

"I - I was blind. Now, I see."

It shot up startled into the flaming hellsky. Suddenly Death was beside me. She was floating.

"If you insist," she husked and snatched Marlene's saber from my hand.

"Marlene will soon need this."

And Death was gone. Just like that. And I was weaponless ... except for harsh language.

A heavy weight hit me in the back as claws gouged into me. I huffed. Another creature slashed me across the chest. I reeled sideways and shouted in pain.

I grabbed its arm, pulled back on its wrist, slamming the flat of my palm against its elbow as hard as I could. A sword dropped to the ground.

I bent and snatched it up. I looked for Gypsy.

I spotted her. She was moving so fast it was hard to follow.

Sparks flew from her claws as she bounded across the broad chest of a stone golum. She leapt to the werewolf in front of her, ruining its eyes with those same claws.

Never in one spot long, she sped between legs, up furry chests, across massive backs. She yowled in defiance, heading straight for me.

Something big and furry lunged at me. I slashed. It grunted but kept on coming. A razored tusk sprouted from its chest.

Epona reared beside me. "I leave no friend behind."

Gypsy screamed in pain.

I looked to the sound. She was bleeding, holding up her left front leg.

Suddenly, a blur of lightning appeared next to her. Crazy Horse, human-size now, blocked a talon with his hatchet and drove his knife into a scaled chest.

He looked at me with a crooked grin and spoke in Lakota, "If I die for a cat, I will never forgive you."

I realized the other six Sioux Spirit warriors were fighting all around me. Human-size and without lightning bolts, they were having trouble standing their ground.

Gall scowled to my left. "You would die for a cat?"

I bent next to Gypsy, who nuzzled her head against my palm, and said, "I would die for family."

He nodded. "That I understand."

Gypsy growled low, glaring up at the hellsky. I followed her line of sight. Oh, crap.

A sphinx. An honest-to-Cleopatra Sphinx.

Gypsy rose, holding up her injured leg and baring her teeth.

The Sphinx rumbled, "Later, granddaughter of Bast. Your death is mine. I will slay all who would take that from me."

Epona reared, thumped a charging troll in the throat with her two front hooves, and whinnied, "Whatever. Fight now. Threaten later."

In answer, the Sphinx chomped off the troll's head and spat it back out. "Tasted worse than it looked."

I made a face. It had looked pretty bad.

A giant bull-man, wearing human skulls for shoulder decorations, tried to cleave Red Butte in two with a war-ax, only to have it wrested from his grip by the warrior.

Red Butte twirled it and brought it down in a huge blow which split the BullMan's head in two.

Muttering low and harsh, the five Lakota who remained unarmed quickly picked up fallen weapons,

from swords to hatchets to axes as Crazy Horse kneeled next to Gypsy and whispered, "They feed on you only after I am slain."

Slashing at his attackers with hatchet and knife, Sitting Bull yelled at us.
"Form a circle!"

Epona looked a question at me, and I answered it, "The Power of the World always works in circles. All life tries to be round. The sky is round."

I looked up to the fires sweeping across the skies. "Even the seasons form a great circle in their changing -- and always come back again to where they were.

The life of all Two-Leggeds is a circle from childhood to childhood."

I glared at the nearing Darklings, hate raw in their screaming throats. "And so it is in everything where Power moves."

Epona and Sitting Bull yelled as one. "Form a circle!"

And then the Darklings were upon us.

Borrowed shields and short swords, Epona's pounding hooves, Sphinx claws, Lakota ax and hatchets, my own flashing sword --

all were blurs as they met a wave of slashing claws, tearing fangs, and hissing weapons. The sounds of metal grating upon metal, screams, grunts, and curses were all about our small band.

I saw nothing clear, only a flurry of dark bodies leaping at me.

I heard the wet thud of blades sinking into flesh, the whimper of wounded Darklings sinking to the ground.

Clear up my arm, I felt the numbing impact of sword-blocked swords and lunging talons.

Out of the corner of an eye, I saw Burnt Thigh go down with a bloody wound to the side yet stagger back up to his unsteady feet.

But despite the pounding of steel upon steel, the rending of flesh by fang, I and my new friends stood our ground, stood it, and smiled grimly to one another.

And to this day, still do the Lakota sing of this battle over their campfires,

though the dark weighs heavy upon their spirits and the whispers of doubt and fear mock them.

It is a song of courage against despair, of light raging against the coming of night.

And when wounded Time draws her final, faltering breath,

when the moon herself has become blood, and the gasping stars slowly strangle on the darkness,

even then will the Lakota stop in the midst of their Death Song, stand tall, and look to one another and remember --

-- remember when one small, defiant band of noble spirits fought, not for glory, not for land, nor for power -- but for one small life and the bond that one brave heart feels for another.
***
Read the passage that begins "And to this day ..." with the first minute of the following music. I wrote those words to this very tune :

GHOST OF A CHANCE_CHAPTER 39_WHEN THE STARS DROWN IN DARKNESS

{I am the Turquoise Woman.

Each life ends.

Whether it ends in whimpering

or in courage depends upon the soul facing that end.

It is, in fact, the only true epitaph your kind leaves.

DreamSinger has entered the realm some call Hell to rescue Samuel McCord, whom he breathed into life.

Now, riding Epona, the last unicorn, with Death behind him and Lakota Spirit Warriors beside him,

DreamSinger faces what seems to be the end. Let the words from his strange journal take it from here ....}



A distant roar sounded from all around us. Oh, crap.

Bristling along the horizon encircling us, hundreds of lost souls, creatures, and demons charged to replace their slain brothers.

I twisted around towards Death to see if she would scream again.

She sadly shook her head. "We near my Avatar and Samuel. I dare not scream again."

My heart went sick and cold as a familiar voice, DayStar's, laughed to my far right. "Do you know what the third white meat is? Cat!"

I saw only his hands appear out of thin air. They held Gypsy, my cat, her eyes wild with fear.

DayStar's hands hurled her directly in the path of the charging monstrosities of Hell.

She yowled, and I could have sworn it came out, "Roland!"

I tugged on Epona's mane to head for Gyspy. Death placed a bitter cold hand on my shoulder.

"We cannot turn. My Avatar and Samuel are close."

"Fine!," I snapped. "Have a great trip."

With a grunt of pain, I flipped my leg over Epona's head, scratching it on her razored tusk. I slipped off and hit the ground in a run towards Gypsy.

Sitting Bull yelled after me. "She is just a cat."

"Wrong! She's MY cat."

A minotaur lunged for me. I slashed across his eyes. It bleated shrilly.

"I - I was blind. Now, I see."

It shot up startled into the flaming hellsky. Suddenly Death was beside me. She was floating.

"If you insist," she husked and snatched Marlene's saber from my hand.

"Marlene will soon need this."

And Death was gone. Just like that. And I was weaponless ... except for harsh language.

A heavy weight hit me in the back as claws gouged into me. I huffed. Another creature slashed me across the chest. I reeled sideways and shouted in pain.

I grabbed its arm, pulled back on its wrist, slamming the flat of my palm against its elbow as hard as I could. A sword dropped to the ground.

I bent and snatched it up. I looked for Gypsy.

I spotted her. She was moving so fast it was hard to follow.

Sparks flew from her claws as she bounded across the broad chest of a stone golum. She leapt to the werewolf in front of her, ruining its eyes with those same claws.

Never in one spot long, she sped between legs, up furry chests, across massive backs. She yowled in defiance, heading straight for me.

Something big and furry lunged at me. I slashed. It grunted but kept on coming. A razored tusk sprouted from its chest.

Epona reared beside me. "I leave no friend behind."

Gypsy screamed in pain.

I looked to the sound. She was bleeding, holding up her left front leg.

Suddenly, a blur of lightning appeared next to her. Crazy Horse, human-size now, blocked a talon with his hatchet and drove his knife into a scaled chest.

He looked at me with a crooked grin and spoke in Lakota, "If I die for a cat, I will never forgive you."

I realized the other six Sioux Spirit warriors were fighting all around me. Human-size and without lightning bolts, they were having trouble standing their ground.

Gall scowled to my left. "You would die for a cat?"

I bent next to Gypsy, who nuzzled her head against my palm, and said, "I would die for family."

He nodded. "That I understand."

Gypsy growled low, glaring up at the hellsky. I followed her line of sight. Oh, crap.

A sphinx. An honest-to-Cleopatra Sphinx.

{See : http://rolandyeomans.blogspot.com/2010/07/gypsys-tale-you-call-this-safe.html }

Gypsy rose, holding up her injured leg and baring her teeth.

The Sphinx rumbled, "Later, granddaughter of Bast. Your death is mine. I will slay all who would take that from me."

Epona reared, thumped a charging troll in the throat with her two front hooves, and whinnied, "Whatever. Fight now. Threaten later."

In answer, the Sphinx chomped off the troll's head and spat it back out. "Tasted worse than it looked."

I made a face. It had looked pretty bad.

A giant bull-man, wearing human skulls for shoulder decorations, tried to cleave Red Butte in two with a war-ax, only to have it wrested from his grip by the warrior.

Red Butte twirled it and brought it down in a huge blow which split the BullMan's head in two.

Muttering low and harsh, the five Lakota who remained unarmed quickly picked up fallen weapons,

from swords to hatchets to axes as Crazy Horse kneeled next to Gypsy and whispered, "They feed on you only after I am slain."

Slashing at his attackers with hatchet and knife, Sitting Bull yelled at us.
"Form a circle!"

Epona looked a question at me, and I answered it, "The Power of the World always works in circles. All life tries to be round. The sky is round."

I looked up to the fires sweeping across the skies. "Even the seasons form a great circle in their changing -- and always come back again to where they were.

The life of all Two-Leggeds is a circle from childhood to childhood."

I glared at the nearing Darklings, hate raw in their screaming throats. "And so it is in everything where Power moves."

Epona and Sitting Bull yelled as one. "Form a circle!"

And then the Darklings were upon us.

Borrowed shields and short swords, Epona's pounding hooves, Sphinx claws, Lakota ax and hatchets, my own flashing sword --

all were blurs as they met a wave of slashing claws, tearing fangs, and hissing weapons. The sounds of metal grating upon metal, screams, grunts, and curses were all about our small band.

I saw nothing clear, only a flurry of dark bodies leaping at me.

I heard the wet thud of blades sinking into flesh, the whimper of wounded Darklings sinking to the ground.

Clear up my arm, I felt the numbing impact of sword-blocked swords and lunging talons.

Out of the corner of an eye, I saw Burnt Thigh go down with a bloody wound to the side yet stagger back up to his unsteady feet.

But despite the pounding of steel upon steel, the rending of flesh by fang, I and my new friends stood our ground, stood it, and smiled grimly to one another.

And to this day, still do the Lakota sing of this battle over their campfires,

though the dark weighs heavy upon their spirits and the whispers of doubt and fear mock them.

It is a song of courage against despair, of light raging against the coming of night.

And when wounded Time draws her final, faltering breath,

when the moon herself has become blood, and the gasping stars slowly strangle on the darkness,

even then will the Lakota stop in the midst of their Death Song, stand tall, and look to one another and remember --

-- remember when one small, defiant band of noble spirits fought, not for glory, not for land, nor for power -- but for one small life and the bond that one brave heart feels for another.
***
Read the passage that begins "And to this day ..." with the first minute of the following music. I wrote those words to this very tune :

GHOST OF A CHANCE_CHAPTER 38_LAST RIDE OF LITTLE LAKOTA

{I am the Turquoise Woman.

You may call me Gaia if you wish.

If you are lucky, I will not answer.

I do not like to be disturbed.

Of late, I have been reading Roland's journal,

detailing his adventures in the fictional world he brought to life with his,

unknown to him, Lakota ability to speak and write worlds into being :

hence his name in the Shadowlands -- DreamSinger.

When we last left him, Death had saved him as she rode Epona, the last unicorn.

The ride is near to bursting the poor creature's heart. As strange creatures of myth attack them from the skies of Hell, DreamSinger speaks his borrowed strength, speed, and endurance into Epona to save her life :

An act that Lakota warriors would call "Icicupi," self-sacrifice.

And since DreamSinger has chosen to die like a Lakota warrior of old, Death determines he will have company on his ride through Hell.

Let DreamSinger's journal take it from there ...}



Death cried behind me, "So you would die like a Lakota warrior? So be it! You will have company on your ride through Hell, DreamSinger."

Like a Lakota warrior flinging his arms to the rising sun of his last day, Death thrust her open arms to the angry, boiling skies filled with giant demons.

She cried in an eerie wail I had never heard before in tones like winter given voice, "By Oak, Ash, and Thorn, I call out to thee, spirits of those who have fallen long since. The last Lakota rides through Hell.

He rides to his death for the sake of a friend. Will you let him ride alone?"

I shook my head. "No, Death, don't. Don't!"

But Death ignored me as was her custom and kept on, " --- Hear me! I am the child of the Great Mystery who breathed me to life long before thou wast even shaped in the belly of Creation.

Hear me and come, Honored Warriors! Wilt thou have he who praised thee fall to those who art not fit to step on thy shadows?

Come. Fight this one last, great battle, one that wilt be sung of for generations to come. I promise thee not that thou wilt survive, only that thou wilt never be forgotten. Come!"

And they came.

A short sentence that does no justice to the scalp-tingling awe and majesty of it.

Even the Klage-Weib pulled up short in their attack, hovering uncertain in the hell sky. From the four directions came the rumbling thunder of enormous hoofbeats.

Strange, black clouds slowly filled the horizon from never-ending to never-ending. The darkness billowed, then formed into seven mighty horses that were thrice the size of the Klage-Weib.

Horses of that Void which waits for each spirit that falls upon the field of battle.

Long spouts of living flame snorted from their flaring nostrils. Their streaking manes rippled in the frigid wind of their passing.

And with each snap of their sleek necks, eerie thunder rumbled in warning of death to come.

Their wild eyes were windows into that terrible furnace which sparked the birth of all the fiery stars who even to this day still sing of the glory of their awakening.

And atop their backs were the seven spirits of the Lakota warriors who had heard Death's cry in their soul-slumber. Heard and heeded.

Pizi, Tatanka Iyotake, Inkpa Duta, Tasunke Witko, Jiji, Sicangu, and Makhpiya-Luta -- or as the White Man legends sing of them : Gall, Sitting Bull, Red Butte, Crazy Horse, Light Hair, Burnt Thigh, and Red Cloud.

Gall, who had gotten his name, when as a famished orphan, he had eaten the gall of an animal slain by a neighbor, whooped and reached back into a strange quiver worn on his back.

His twin braids flying back from the storm winds, he veered his ChaosHorse from that of Sitting Bull, who glared at him. Once Sitting Bull's military chief, Gall had parted ways with his mentor over things no White Man may know.

Nearly as tall as Gall and almost as handsome, Crazy Horse already had the weapon Gall was reaching back for : a sizzling lightning bolt. Laughing and bold, he kneed his ChaosHorse straight down to the gigantic German banshees. The others started to join him.

But Sitting Bull raised a hand. "No, Tasunke Witko is drawing them out for us."

Red Cloud nodded his long, lined face. "Yes, but let us flank them at the same time."

Sitting Bull frowned but held the words that his expression said burned to burst through his tight lips. Red Cloud had proven his mettle by leading a winning campaign against the combined might of the Pawnees, Crows, Utes, and the Shoshones.

Whooping loud to draw the attention of the gigantic Death-Cryers, Red Cloud, the lone Thunderbird feather jutting straight up from behind his head, bent low, placing his lips next to his fearsome mount's right ear.

The two shot straight for the Klage-Weib, who parted in two groups to meet the two racing Lakota warriors. Crazy Horse and Red Cloud.

Faster even than the lightning bolts in the warriors' hands, the ChaosHorses of the five Lakota remaining shot around the enormous flying DeathHeralds. The Klage-Weib realized almost immediately that they were being flanked and ambushed -- but still too late.

All seven Lakota warriors let fly with their sizzling lightning bolts. The thunder of the fiery spears hitting bone and undead flesh was deafening. When the boiling clouds of vaporized flesh and cloth had thinned, not one Klage-Weib remained. Whether the explosion of seven lightning bolts had destroyed all of them or whether the survivors had fled was unclear.

Sitting Bull yelled, "To DreamSinger's side!"

I smiled grim. Company always made the journey better.

As fast as thought, the seven Lakota Spirit Warriors thundered beside me. Epona looked to me and whinnied, "This will be the ride of a lifetime."

I nodded grimly. The last ride of Little Lakota.
***
This version of CREEK MARY'S BLOOD by NIGHTWISH starts with a new minute and a half intro by John Two-Hawks. If you would know what Elu looks like, study his face.

GHOST OF A CHANCE_CHAPTER 37_DEATH FROM ABOVE

{Turquoise Woman again. The rippling tides of Man's affairs are tedious to me.

You struggle to no avail. In the end, you all die. But your words are fascinating.

I have been reading DreamSinger's strange journal. In a vain effort to rescue my adopted son, Samuel McCord,

from the Hell to which he had written him, DreamSinger has traveled there himself. Once there,

though he has given himself the gift of absorbing the speed, strength, and toughness of all he met, he was soon surrounded by doomed, angry souls.

Death, astride the fading unicorn, Epona, has saved him for the moment with her fatal scream. Let DreamSinger's journal take us from there ...}


I said low, "That was ... impressive."

"Hush! Attack is coming from the skies."

I looked up, and my jaw dropped. She wasn't joking. Attack was putting it mild.

I was being flanked from above. From the West came a flying swirl of seven strange women, their short white hair fluttering in the wind of their soaring.

Brilliant green dresses parted as they flew, showing long alabaster legs. Their gray cloaks flapped violently like fabric wings.

Red eyes flashed as they spotted us. They erupted in a terrible wailing that seemed to me like an ear-piercing combination of a goose's screech, a wolf's mournful howl, and the utter hopelessness of an abandoned child's cry.

As they swept down from above, the leader stiffened and waved back her sisters. "No! This one hast healed a unicorn. We are the Mna' Sige. We do not war on such a one as this. Come, sisters!"

The Mna' Sige closest to the leader pointed with a long, scragly finger to the East. "It is too late. We must stay to sing his Death Song. Look hence, the Klage-Weib."

I turned towards where the apparition pointed. Even Epona gasped in horror. My scalp prickled.

When I'd used up all my fingers and toes, I stopped counting the Klage-Weib. But their numbers were the least of my worries; the worst of them was the creatures' size.

Three stories high and the width of two Mac trucks, they seemed to blot out the flame-boiling skies. The Klage-Weib wore rotted grave clothes with hair the color of sin and moon-white skulls for faces.

Epona stumbled and nearly fell. She was past her limits. Her over-taxed heart was going to burst.

Death whispered in my ear, "It is no coincidence I chose her to ride."

"No!," I cried.

I placed my palm on her quivering flesh and spoke as a storyteller of Lakota myth, "And so to spare Epona's life, he poured all his borrowed speed, strength, and endurance into his friend."

A drain seemed to open within me, leeching me of most of my strength. Epona surged forward with a gasp of pure joy and relief.

Death murmured in my ear, "Icicupi {'sacrifice' in Lakota.} If you choose to live like a Lakota warrior, then you will die like one."
***

GHOST OF A CHANCE_CHAPTER 36_AND I BEHELD A PALE HORSE

{The Lakota call me the Turquoise Woman, lover of few things man-made. You may call me Gaia if it makes you feel more comfortable.

Man's words I value.

I have been reading the journal of Roland sometimes called Little Lakota from his mother's blood. Other times he is called DreamSinger.

When I last left these pages, Roland had followed my adopted son, Samuel McCord, into the Kol Basar -- that realm some call Hell.

DreamSinger's words become reality as often our thoughts do on our own paths. He feels responsible for writing a novel where Samuel rushes into Hell to rescue the kidnapped Rind, the Angel of Death.

Surrounded by doomed souls, he has heard the pounding of heavy hooves from behind him. He turns and beholds a pale horse.

Let his words take us from there ...}



I turned to behold a pale horse.

It was Epona,

the unicorn I had saved in the outer courts of Hell. She was covered in sweat and panting.

And riding her was Death, reaching down for me.

"Up here, Little Lakota!"

She caught me and swung me up in front of her. Epona gasped, "I leave no friend behind."

Her repeating my words about Sam McCord hit me hard, blurring my eyes with hot tears.

A frothing minotaur rushed up at me. I slashed down with Marlene Dietrich's saber which healed. It bellowed in surprise not pain.

It blinked beady eyes in wonderment. It shimmered in bright electric lights and shot up into the dark skies.

Death drily snorted, "You have just sent another startled gate-crasher to Heaven. I do believe you're making both Hell and Heaven quite upset with you."

Epona weaved like a living streak of lightning between our attackers, and I yelled to Death over my shoulder. "What are you doing here?"

"I am where you have sent me, DreamSinger. I must join my kidnapped avatar to complete your classic fantasy."

"Classic? I don't even have an agent yet."

"Silly mortal, I exist allwheres, all times simultaneously. FRENCH QUARTER NOCTURNE is a classic. Do not argue with Death."

A howling werewolf charged us, and Death snapped, "Enough of this!"

She shoved me down close to Epona's sweat-wet neck.
Out of the corner of my eye, I saw her rear back her black- hooded head and scream. I stiffened from its bone-numbing impact.

A terrible shivering pain wracked my body, but I heard nothing but a muted "waaa-OOMPH!"

I saw strange energy shimmering and ghostly, its color the pale green of a new corpse, explode in an ever-widening circle out from Death in its center. It slammed into the screaming creatures, mowing them down like tall cedars felled by the impact of a huge meteor.

They flew up and back like leaves tossed by the coming of a frigid storm front. I swallowed hard.

Never underestimate Death. Ask Sodom and the firstborn of Egypt what she is capable of.

The shockwave of her death-scream swept out from us in ever-larger ripples of first corpse-green then spectral electric-blue.

As far as I could see out in the dim light of the Kol Basar there was nothing but a horizon of smoking corpses. I straightened in awe. I made my throat work.

"That was ... impressive."

"Hush! Attack is coming from the skies."
***

GHOST OF A CHANCE_CHAPTER 34_TO FALL INTO DARKNESS

{"I could a tale unfold whose lightest

word

Would harrow up thy soul."

-Shakespeare : HAMLET I. v.}



{Ghost of Samuel Clemens : I should have gone with Roland.

I followed. But too late. Too late.

His charred journal tells us Roland saved Epona, the last unicorn,

only to see her race off deeper into Hell.

Are all our strivings merely empty boxing with the wind?

DayStar was mocking Roland when we last left him ....}



Behind me, DayStar chuckled, "All know the way to Hell but none know the way out."

I kept watching Epona until she blinked out of sight over the smoldering horizon, and I kept on watching for a moment more as I called back over my shoulder.

"I'm considering the source of those words."

"As you yourself once told me : the best lie is sandwiched between two truths."

I turned around and smiled sad. "You just challenge me to figure out what's the lie and what's the truth, is that it?"

He studied me like a scientist would a glass slide under a miscroscope. "That would be telling. And the scant amusement you afford me is watching you stumble over the truth right in front of you."

"Well, just so long as I have a purpose in life."

Something disturbing flickered deep within his eyes, then died before I could catch what it was as he murmured, "Oh, yes, primate, you have a purpose."

"Cue the spooky music," I muttered and turned to walk to my left, but his hand settled firm on my shoulder.

"You insist on scattering myths about you."

He glanced to his left. My eyes followed his. I stiffened. Epona. Or really an after-image of her, rearing and pawing at the darkness with her hooves. I shivered at the joy in her eyes.

I shrugged his hand off my shoulder. "I have a friend to get out of Hell."

The shadows masked all but his gray eyes, and even they seemed to be full of darkness. "In the hour you will die."

"Staying alive's not part of the job."

He cocked a brow. "Winning by dying?"

"Been done before."

He smiled like a satisfied wolf. "Your own personal Alamo, is it?"

"There are worse fates."

"You have a most peculiar code."

"Look who's talking."

"I have no code."

"Non servium."

"Oh, that. In that case, welcome to the club."

"Well, considering where I am it would seem to fit."

DayStar's face was suddenly hidden by shadow as if he did not want me to see it. "You have never fit, never conformed. It is why you will soon die."

"Probably so."

"But you will not relent, will not surrender."

"Probably not."

"In that case ...."

His eyes flared with actual flames, as his right hand gestured like a sword, "Go to Hell!"

Blackness swallowed me as I felt myself lifted off my feet and hurled down, down, down. I tumbled head over heels in billowing clouds of darkness and mist.

Faintly from above, I heard DayStar's bitter words, "The true pain, DreamSinger, is not the fall but the surviving it."
***

GHOST OF A CHANCE_CHAPTER 33_DIE WELL, DREAMSINGER

{"You can no more win a war than you can win an earthquake."
~Jeanette Rankin.}

{Samuel Clemens, ghost, wiping the tears from eyes. Roland did it.

He saved the last unicorn in Hell. More than that,

his strange Lakota blood healed her of her terrible wounds. Let his journal take it from there ...}



Epona was rearing on her hind legs. Her healed hind legs.


In fact, her whole body was healed. She was gleefully pawing at the domed ceiling above us.

She landed lightly on the cobblestones. Her blue eyes danced with the joy of a child on Christmas morning. She called down to me.


"I am healed!"


"Yes, but I don't know where you can go, Epona."


I jerked a thumb past the wall. "It's Hell out there. Literally."


Epona looked at the word of fire on Marlene's saber and hushed in a breath. "You are the one they call DreamSinger."


"Well, folks keep calling me that."


The unicorn thrust her sparkling, spiraled horn towards the opening. "Come with me, DreamSinger."


Ah, like I said, it's a mite unfriendly out there."


"No. We unicorns know a path through the desolation to the Elysian Fields. Come with me, DreamSinger. Escape your destiny, too."


I bit my lip and thrust myself up painfully to my feet. I made a face. Getting up had been easier before all the lumps I had taken lately.


I smiled at the unicorn and shook my head.


"A friend needs my help in the Kol Basar. And I leave no friend behind. Go. Run through those fields for both of us, Epona."


The unicorn's brows grew together. "Are you sure?"


"Trust me. When I see you race away to freedom, it will be like I was there on your back. Go. You've had your share of nightmares. My turn."


Epona whispered, "I do trust you, DreamSinger."


She reared high into the air again, her hooves tearing at the shadows. "Die well, DreamSinger!"


As I watched her race out of the opening and onto the steaming black sands, I muttered, "You could have left that last part out."


I continued to watch Epona race like the wind she loved away from me and across the burning sands. I said another prayer for her to the Great Mystery.


A shaft of bright gold light lanced down from a strange circle in the midnight black heavens. It was a circle of bright blue sky rimmed with a ring of bruised blue.


It weirdly followed her as she ran ... ran as fast as she could away from here and into her dreams.


Let them be good ones, Great Mystery.


A depressingly familiar bell-like voice sneered behind me. "She is racing to her damnation. It is an ugly truth, Roland.


Everyone knows the way to Hell. But no one knows the way back out."
***

GHOST OF A CHANCE_CHAPTER 32_HELL IS YOURSELF

{"Hell is yourself and the only redemption is when a person puts himself aside to feel deeply for another."

- Tennessee Williams.}

{Samuel Clemens, here, I look at Roland's charred journal,

its pages turning with a life of their own. We last left my friend at the breached wall of Hell.

To enter is to die.

Just past the wall, Epona, a unicorn, is being sliced to ribbons by a ghoul,

whose legs work like a frog's, and whose arms flail with razors.

Roland has just ordered the ghoul to leave the unicorn alone ...}



Epona lolled her head to me. "N-No, you must not. To enter is to --"

The ghoul raised the bloody razor up high. "Time to scream."

"Great Mystey," I whispered, " not for me, but for someone who called out for mercy. Let me cross over."

The foot-long razor swept down. Sucking in a breath, I leapt through the opening and blocked the ghoul's slashing attack with Marlene's saber. Sparks flew as the razor met the black metal of the sword.

The ghoul cursed me in some forgotten language. She twirled frog-like and thrust at me with blinding speed. She was good.

But I still had the agility of Gypsy, my cat. I twisted at the hips, evading her attack.

I threw the black sand into the creature'e eyes. "Here's Hell in your eyes!"

Her eyes burst into flames.

Blinded, the ghoul flailed screaming past me through the opening.

And then she exploded.

Just simply exploded. Or not so simply.

The sound had been odd, a distant popping as if she were some small firecracker going off, not a large body going up in a cloud of foul-smelling smoke.

I hurled up my arms to protect my face and stiffened, expecting to be splattered with blood and gore. Nothing. I shook my head.

I wrinkled my lips at the stench. Her body had been as empty as her soul had been.

There were other creatures twitching, slithering, and crabbing towards the unicorn.

But the ghoul's exploding had made them stop for the moment. I bent down with complaining knees next to the bleeding unicorn.

Epona lolled her slashed head with torn tendons, her eyes straining to glimpse something of what lay beyond.

But from her position, she could see nothing. She whimpered.

"They cut me, cut me. Laughing, laughing. Let me get so close, so close. But never making it. Never."

Her eyes tore into me. "I black out, dream such terrible, terrible dreams.

Then, I awaken whole once more. And it begins all over again. A-All over again."

Her head slumped towards the cold cobblestones, but I caught it before she could hurt herself.

"I to want to run ... run so far from here until the memories are left far, far behind."

I saw the creatures start towards me again and heard the unicorn as she rasped, "I want to run ... run fast as I can.

Let the wind wrap its cold fingers through my mane again. I want to run, run so far from here

until at long last I feel the grass under my hooves one last time. One last time."

The scattered torturers began to giggle as they grew closer. "D-Don't let them get me again. P-Please. Please!"

I looked down in despair at the unicorn, blood welling like tears along the gashes in her white satin flesh. I cocked my head.

I began to write on the saber in Epona's blood.

I looked back up to the darkness above me and whispered, "She only wanted to run. She only needed a gentle light to lead her through the darkness."

My throat closed, but I forced the words out. "Lead her to where there is no pain. No pain."

Her eyes looked at the blade with weary eyes for a long moment. I felt her muscles quiver beneath my fingers. Epona raised wet eyes to me.

"Will it hurt?"

"No. No, it won't hurt."

"No more bad dreams?"

I nodded and each word felt like a raw wound. "No more bad dreams."

I plunged the saber deep into Epona's heart. She screamed shrill.

The world around us went nova. Epona stiffened. And the encroaching torturers squealed gut-deep and wet.

A wave of sensation both ice-cold and warm knifed through me. I felt the unicorn scramble to her hooves in a thrust of sudden strength.

I crabbed back and fell on my butt. I braced myself with one hand and held Marlene's vibrating saber in the other.

My vision cleared. My mouth dropped.

Epona was rearing on her hind legs. Her healed hind legs.

The words I had written on the saber in her blood were burning with strange fires. "This sword now heals."
***

GHOST OF A CHANCE_CHAPTER 31_STANDING ON THE THRESHOLD

{"Talking Monkey, you are standing on the threshold

of something that befalls every culture, every nation, every soul ...

but with each at a different cost."

-DayStar.}

{Samuel Clemens, ghost and friend of Roland. His skein of days is almost run out. He is accompanied by DayStar, who claims to be Lucifer,

as they walk to the crack in the wall of Hell. Let Roland's charred journal take it from here ....}



DayStar's gray eyes looked at me with something almost close to sympathy as he talked about thresholds.

And that scared me more than if he had sneered.

I turned to the left and headed down the slope towards the walled city. DayStar strolled lazily beside me. His smile said I was heading to my utter destruction.


"Behold the knocked-down portion of the wall."


He smiled wide. "Only the pure of heart may enter the Kol Basar from Hell through that rough portal. For any other to try is to die."


He bowed politely and gestured with a graceful flourish. "Be my guest."


"Oh, go climb your thumb," I snapped and turned to him.


He was gone. I didn't know what bothered me more : when he showed up or when he suddenly left.


How I was going to enter through that opening if only the pure in heart could go through?


But then again, DayStar was the source for that. Still, it would be just like him to tell me the truth so I'd disbelieve him and walk through to my death.


I shrugged. Only one way to find --


There was a whinnying whimper. A shrill scream of pain. And laughter, long and mocking. I felt my face go as tight as my fists.


Someone was torturing a horse for fun. My face became rock. Someone was going to be laughing out of the other end very, very soon.


I clutched hell-sand in one hand, Marlene's saber in the other and walked fast to the opening. I pulled up short at what I saw. Aw, damn it to Hell.


I snarled at myself when I realized my mental curse.


A unicorn.


A poor hamstrung, slashed unicorn. She was struggling towards the opening from the Kol Basar side, longing and sadness in her wet blue eyes.


Her slashed body was leaving a long smear of blood as she painfully dragged herself. And jerking grotesquely towards her was a slender, disjointed figure that was female in only the roughest of terms.


Long, oily black hair hung down beside a corpse's face. Wiry arms flailed froglike as the ghoul skittered with oddly jointed knees towards the unicorn vainly struggling towards the opening.


A blood-dripping long razor was held lovingly by the giggling abomination as she twitched towards the crawling unicorn. She was going to beat the unicorn to the opening.


The giggling got louder, shriller. The unicorn gasped out wet words as she lolled her head to look up into the darkness above her.


"L-Let me see the outside, please. Please just one glimpse of the horizon. One last look."


The ghoul tittered, "Oh, no, Epona. No lookie, lookie. Just screams and screams."


I walked up to the opening and locked my eyes with the ghoul's solid black ones, seeming like nothing so much as a shark's.


"I'm only going to tell you this once : leave the unicorn be."
***