black water appeared to go down forever. He didn't really know what to do next. Baccharus had told him simply to wait, stressing that 'the pool would see' and know what was needed. Yet the surroundings felt so normal it felt silly sitting back waiting.
There was a certain odd oiliness to the quality of the water, so he reached out a hand to stroke his fingers across the surface. At the last moment he withdrew; something was sending alarm bells ringing in his head. He slumped back against the wall, hugged his knees and waited.
It was less than a minute later when he perceived-or thought he did-some activity deep below. Now on all fours, he pressed his face close to the water's surface to get a better look. Something was swimming. The perspective it gave him was shocking, for the pool went down more than twenty or thirty feet, and even then he couldn't see the bottom. Whatever was there was striking out for the surface. The lantern light brought reflected glints from its skin, at times silvery, at times flesh tone. It was certainly a trick of the distorting effect of the water, but it gave him the impression that the pool's inhabitant kept changing back and forth from a fish to a human. Or was somehow both at the same time.
And still it rose, until it was obvious it was human, long arms reaching out, feet kicking, but the face was still obscured by shadows. It covered the last few feet very quickly, but stopped short of coming completely out of the water. Instead, it hovered patiently, looking up at him, only an inch or two beneath the surface, and in that instant he was overcome by a deep dread. The face he was looking into was his own, his long hair drifting in the currents, only it was changed very slightly, in the way the features were held or in some sour experience that had left its mark, so that it was darker in essence.
For long seconds they were locked in that connecting stare, and then there was a flurry of rapid movement in the water. The Other-Church's arms shot out of the pool, clamped on Church's shoulders, and before he could resist, dragged him under.
In the shock, he didn't have time to grab a breath of air. The cold water rushed into his mouth and up his nose before he clamped his lips shut and struggled frantically to push his head up above the surface. But though he fought wildly, turning the pool into a maelstrom, his other self was far too strong. Further down it hauled him, and down even more, until the light from the lantern was too dim to illuminate the water and his lungs seared from the strain. He struck out futilely a few more times, the blows so weak they barely registered, and then his mouth jerked open and the water flooded in, filling his throat, his lungs. Fractured thoughts flared briefly in his mind, but the abiding sense was that it wasn't supposed to be like that.
Except that one minute later, he realised he was still breathing; inexplicably. His brain fizzed and sparked, somehow found a state of grace that allowed his thoughts to grow ordered once more. He wasn't dead; he was breathing water.
The Other-Church released his grip, although his face still had that mean cast; Church thought how much older and unattractive a state of mind could make him look. He signed for the Other to tell him what was happening, but it gave an expression of slight contempt before turning and swimming away. Church had no choice but to follow.
The experience had the distorting feeling of a hallucination. Briefly he wondered if he was dead and this was some final, random activity in his dying brain, but then he noticed a strange sheen across the whole of the pool that resembled the skin of a bubble. The Other swam into it, and through it; Church couldn't see anything on the other side. He hesitated, then followed suit.
The bubble gave slightly as he touched it, then eased over his body, finally accepting him with a slight give. Emerging on the other side, he was shocked to realise there was no water at all; he was in midair and it was dark. Suddenly he was falling, the water shooting out of his lungs. The sensation lasted for only a few seconds until he found himself standing on a broad plain covered in stubby grass, beneath a star-studded night sky and ringed by black mountains. Before him was a pile of rocks fused into a pillar that rose three feet above his head. The OtherChurch stood on the far side of the pillar, the same distance from it as he was.
'What is happening here?' His voice resonated strangely in the wide-open spaces. As he spoke, the Other- Church mimicked him silently.
The pillar of stones began to hum with a low, bass note. Church couldn't take his eyes off it; the atmosphere was heavy with anticipation. As the OtherChurch continued to glower at him, movement became visible within the pillar and gradually a figure stepped out of the solid rock.
Church's stomach flipped. Marianne looked exactly as she had when she was alive, not the gaunt, spectral figure sent by the Fomorii to torment him. His shoulders sagged; conflicting emotions tore through him: doubt, terrible sadness, a touch of joy. 'Marianne.'
She smiled at him weakly.
'You're another hallucination of this place.' He rubbed a hand across his face, but when he looked back up she was still there.
'I'm here, Church. At least, a part of me, a part they couldn't get to. An echo.'
Tears flooded his eyes. 'Really?'
'Really.'
He made to move forward, arms outstretched, but she held up a sudden hand to warn him back. She shook her head strongly. 'We can't.'
'Why not?' Almost a plea.
'There are rules, Church. Things going on that you can't imagine, beyond what you see here, or there, or anywhere. I can't tell you… can't explain. I'm not allowed.'
'Not allowed by whom?' Her face grew still. She took a step back towards the pillar. 'No! Okay, I won't ask any more about that!'
She smiled, brighter this time. 'It's good to see you, Church.'
For a brief while, he couldn't see for the tears. 'Thank you,' he choked as a delaying tactic, 'for the contact you made in the house… on Mam Tor… The writing…
'I had to do something, Church. I couldn't bear to see you so broken.'
'You could see me?' No answer. 'Okay… the part of you the Fomorii have-'
Her face darkened; she hugged her arms around her, a mannerism he recalled her doing when she was distraught; when she was alive. 'It feels like it's tearing my heart out.'
His voice grew rough and fractured. 'I'm going to save you, Marianne.'
Her expression was, if not quite patronising, then certainly pitying.
'I am.' Reassuring at first, then defiantly: 'I am.'
His emotions felt they would break him in two. He wanted to ask her about her death, about who had killed her, how bad it had been, whether she had really suffered as he always imagined, but looking into her face where the Marianne he loved still resided, he couldn't bring himself to do it. There were a thousand questions, but his overwhelming desire was for the one thing every bereaved person wished for above all else, but could never, ever achieve: to tell her how he truly felt.
As he was about to speak, she silenced him with a raised finger. 'I know how you feel, Church, and I always felt the same about you. You were the only person I ever loved.'
He covered his eyes.
'I know your thoughts now, Church. I know your hopes. And that's a good thing, truly. In the days that follow, remember that. And I know about Ruth, and that's okay. She's a remarkable person. You've made a lot of silly mistakes since I died, but she was the right one. You stick with her, she'll stick with you.'
A sob choked in his throat. 'I miss you.'
'I know. But you should have learned a lot of things by now. That nothing is truly fixed in the Fixed Lands.' Her use of words he had heard before brought him up sharp. He blinked away his tears and started to listen. 'You see things from your own perspective, but in the broad sweep of existence, things look very different. When you know the rules, everything changes. Things are switched right around when they're put in context: what seems a bad experience becomes good, good, bad. I can't explain better than that at the moment, but you can't judge now, Church. Just accept things, and know there's something more.'
'I know, I do.'
'But sometimes it's hard.'
He nodded.
'Feel it, don't think it. The Age of Reason is long gone.'
