The Spindle of Fate. Defeating the Dark

Outside, at what seems like just a stone’s throw away, darkness was gathering. Here, almost on the fringe of human settlements, the rays of the sun were unable to diffuse the darkness which was victoriously advancing. It overwhelmed the sparse little trees, the rocky slopes covered with thin grass, and the spongy bogs. Like a painter or sculptor, the dark, coming up in waves onto this disconsolate landscape was altering all of creation. A boulder covered with blue moss became a bush with big red berries, a gully turned into a meadow, and trees kept coming out of darkness and disappearing again.

In the dark haziness one could see patches that were more or less light. At times they overlapped, intersected, overwhelmed, and interfered with each other as if playing cat-and-mouse. Sometimes the patches would fuse, forming crazy masterpieces, as if born of insane brains, or they would suddenly harmonize into rather rational pictures. However, all these metamorphoses lasted only for short moments. And once again the darkness would reach out its tentacles to chaotically touch this queer world.

The Priestess of Flame turned away from the window and tried to concentrate on a conjuration. However, one thought kept reeling in her head: “Perhaps, I am next”. Three votaresses of Flame had already disappeared without a trace, and most likely it would not be it. The girl couldn’t sleep in spite of the late hour. Turning her gaze to an hour-glass, she sleepily noticed that the grains were slowing their lazy falling and were dropping resonantly. Slower and slower, until one of them, the last one, was hanging, failing to make it to the bottom. A long echo faded in the quietness.

She felt somebody’s presence, shivered and turned round. At the threshold of her rooms darkness was falling. No, it was not the darkness, but a man in a dark cloak with the hood pulled low over his eyes. Might he be a pilgrim, or perhaps a wanderer? Or could he be one who searches for knowledge and wishes to learn? It was already late; how did he get here? The guards should not have let him in. If there is a sancta sanctorum on Earth, this place should be it. Two steps away, up on the roof, the Sacred Flame burns, its magic light shining down on the world.

While she was brooding, two pitch-black clots formed around the night guest’s silhouette. It was both scary and unfathomable. How could the dark have gotten into the heart of the Tower of Light? The unicycles of darkness were transformed into sinister-looking monsters and started approaching her slowly. The stranger’s fleshy lips shivered into a grin. The girl tried to stand up and run away, but was unable to, no matter how hard she tried. She tried to absorb the light coming out of the glowing pillar in the middle of the room, but, alas, could not. Barely conscious of her own body, with a final, desperate effort, she got up on her feet, then fell down on the rug and… regained consciousness, awakened by her own scream.

Oh! It was only a dream… But, Oh, Lord of Light, this nightmare seemed so real! The fatigue gained during the day was the cause. And the troubling situation with her sisters’ disappearance… The whole of The Circle is baffled. We have to do something, but they are so weak. Her thoughts circled crazily in her mind and amassed into one tight bundle.

A gust of icy wind cooled down the feverish body of the young sorcerer. Her transparent clothes exposed, rather than covered, her white body. Whipping around, she saw the silhouette from her recent nightmare. He was here! This is no dream! She wanted to defend herself with a guarding gesture but her hands wouldn’t obey her. As the stranger stretched out his dark palms towards her and began coming nearer, she realized in horror that she could not even scream.

***

A seagull’s shriek woke Marina out of her reverie and brought her back to earth, or rather to a desolate coast. The daystar hanging almost in the zenith was pouring ultraviolet onto the beach. The sea was whispering something sleepily and the foam swirled at her feet. All around was peace and quiet.

“Well, I will take one more plunge and then go home, or my skin will peel off”, Marina said to herself reproachfully. She was enjoying her well-deserved rest. Her last year in school had been hard, but she got all A’s and had already enrolled in a university.

She walked into the water and plunged in, it keeping her eyes open, and submerged herself again into the astounding world of the underwater realm.

“It’s so beautiful, I don’t want to go back. Probably, if I were a mermaid, I would have lived here”, the girl thought. She did look like a mermaid, slim and fit, with long hair and large eyes the color of the seawater. She plunged in a few more times, to memorize the enchanted view.

Marina came up to the surface and looked back toward the shore. Yes, picturesque, but nothing more. There was no room for the harmony of the sea depths there. Why did she feel like coming to this deserted and, you might say, wild place? As recently as yesterday she was relaxing at a civilized resort, lounging on a tanning bed under a sunshade, surrounded by a crowd of babbling tourists and their yelling children, with the screeches of Soviet and foreign pop-stars coming out of all the loudspeakers around. And now today, all of a sudden, she felt like being alone. Her gut feeling had brought her to this place.

She walked back onto the shore, bent down to pick up her towel and noticed a glittering thing. An odd spindle-shaped shell fit in her hand. Marina lifted it, brought it closer to her eyes and peeped inside, in the hope of seeing the owner of this amazing tiny house. However, the peculiar residence was empty. Then she put the shell against her ear and heard the deep breath of the ocean, so remote but nevertheless, so close. Eventually, she put the mysterious trove to her chest, uncertain if a decoration could be made out of it.

“I’ll take it home and decide what to do with it then”, Marina thought. She felt lighter than she than she had ever felt before.

***

Heaven was a real madhouse. The whole space was filled with myriad cherubs scurrying to and fro. Angels were running around like crazy after the Spindle of Fate disappeared. Doing their utmost to solve the problem that had popped up, they were getting even more confused. The Apostles were searching all the dimensions, but in vain. There was nobody to consult, which aggravated the matter even further. God had left this dimension and nobody knew where he was!

A six-winged Seraphim was giving the last instructions to a young angel on the ninth cloud to the left:

“Repeat back to me: what is the essence of the Spindle of Fate?”

“It decides the fates of all living beings. It is the Creator’s main tool, his will is second. At present it has disappeared from its dimension, where it was kept sealed by demons. It is in the humans’ world”.

“OK. You have been selected, trained, and blessed. You do navigation on the spot. Time to go. Benedictio Domini sit vobiscum. God bless you,” Seraphim was noticeably worn-out and exhausted.

Suddenly Heaven quaked and grew crimson. The Seraphim digressed for a second, then continued in rapid-fire:

“Demons are attacking us! Nationhood mobilization declared. You have to leave immediately. The battle is to take place in a different dimension.”

“I want to help,” the angel’s face was set in lines of impatience.

“Your contribution will be invaluable if you fulfill the task you have been given. You are the youngest of us, but you carry a fragment of the Lord. Repeat the task.”

“Infiltrate the humans’ society in the form of a man. Find the Spindle, get it back to Heaven. May I start?”

“Your point of contact will be here. May God be with you.”

And away the angel went.

***

In Hell the order superseded the anarchy. The Army of Hell was getting ready to attack Heaven. Demons were putting on their military harness and cleaning their weapons. Devils were saddling dragons, gargoyles, even vampires, in other words, all those who could carry them up in the skies. Gazillions of sinners were inbred into a few looking monstrously organisms. Lucifer, clad in white cloak, his beautiful assembly glowing excruciatingly bright, appeared on the balcony between two sulfurous torches:

“My brothers, my dear friends! Today is a Great Day. The day when Heaven will fall before our assault and the end of the world will come, a world that is built on lies, deception, and injustice.”

Next to a cauldron in which to boil sinners that had been abandoned because of the war, a hoary-headed devil was giving final instructions to a young demon:

“Let nothing stop you. We need a victory. It’s a unique chance. Not only has the Spindle disappeared, but the Old Man is nowhere to be found. The moment is as good as it gets! If we get hold of the artifact then we will be able to extend our boss’ rule to the whole Universe.”

“…the age of universal well-being and prosperity will come. Each will receive according to his needs… That little thing is somewhere on Earth. Find it and you will be able to contact the Spindle. My will shall be done! Onward, I shall lead you on to victory! Hurrah!” The horde gave out an evil roar. The assault has started.

“Hurry, you must go. Expect no aid from us. Everybody has gone off to war. Even I am going. See, I’ve gotten myself a little rifle, just for this purpose,” he said, waving a rusty weapon of an odd design.

“Knock them dead!”

“I will!” the devil answered emphatically.

He looked behind and saw the Army enter a huge dark portal spread to cover a half of the sky. Legion by legion, the fiends were leaving for the battle field in a different dimension.

The young demon spit out. The spittle flared, the soil sizzled. He grinned, snapped his fingers and jumped nimbly into a glowing circle that appeared in front of him. The light ozone odor dissolved quickly in the miasmas of this devilish place. Meanwhile monsters of all types were marching forward one after another to the last battle against Heaven. It was in his power to help them win.

***

Borya Zimin had been wishing to radically change his life for a long time. For this reason Lada Zimina-Pokovskaya (a countess, by the way) was not surprised by her offspring’s sudden decision. Let the kid relax at the southern coast. He graduated from school, his university tuition is paid, and the dean called with avowals of love. You bet, for such amount of money. The only thing that ran afoul of the habitual style of life was her son’s early appearance in the dining room. To be more exact Boris made his mother happy by his mere presence at breakfast.

“Well, everything’s changing.” Lada thought looking at her sonnyboy devour starters.

The old Labrador Henry was huddled under her chair, growling indistinctly. Borya finished his meal, got up from the table, and asked the dog:

“Well, doggy, will you go with me down south?”

Henry bared his teeth and tried to crawl away. Lada stood up for her pet:

“Leave the old guy alone.”

“By the way, Mom, you could do with a little freshening up as well,” her son cooed, and pecking her on the cheek, he left with the waddling gait of the master of the universe.

“That’s probably true. It might be time to take a breath”, the countess thought as she watched a posh white car leave the courtyard. It might be a good idea to find myself a lover.

Lada did not conceal a pleased smile as she picked up the phone and dialed a number.

***

“Out running around again until all hours, you butthe…” His stepfather stuttered and started coughing uncontrollably. “You are killing your mother!”

They were sitting in a smoky little kitchen; the parents at the table, both bloated and unkempt. Grisha leaned against the fridge examining them. In spite of the early hour, on the table there were already an open bottle of vodka, a can of herring, and a plate with a few pieces of brown bread on it. s

Looking at her son with eyes bleary from alcohol, Verka lifted her hand against him, but Grisha caught it gently and firmly:

“I love you, Mom!”

Poryvayeva burst into tears. She cried, each tear taking away the burden that had weighted on her all these years after her husband’s death. And as she cried, her gaze became lucid and coherent. She stood up, took the bottle from the table and resolutely emptied it into the sink.

Kolyan realized that a new life was starting that exact moment in their family. As strange as it sounded, he proved happy about it. He gave Vera a hug. The two together saw Grisha to the door and set about cleaning up the place. The apartment had been awaiting this for many years.

***

“Sorry, my dear lady. May I engage you for a dance?” it’s been already a third pesky admirer in the last half hour. But what a style!

Marina subdued an impulse to rebuff this suitor as well. The first one started constructing the greeting with the word “look, there” and was recommended the sea shore as his destination. The second youth asked “Miss, do you dance?”, and she replied “No, I sing!” However, since she has come to the disco anyway, she had better have fun. She mercifully let the third guy take her to the dance-floor.

Marina liked dancing. She could move well; and God had endowed her with beauty and a good figure, for which reason she kept catching admiring glances of the male audience. This attention was pleasant although a bit irksome. The reason was a red dress, with a low-cut back, that she found in her aunt’s closet. Kid, the butler, even confused her with his mistress. He complimented her and wondered if the attire was discreet enough for a disco and partying at night. As she was putting on a pearl necklace, Marina asked Kid to pick her up and take her home. Kid agreed, added a pair of strapped sandals to her outfit, and took his leave. She put up her hair into something that looked like a crown and walked out into the night.

Actually she wanted to stay and examine her aunt Isolda’s enigmatic mansion. For sure this house was full of luring mysteries. However, some inner impulse directed her to the shore, to the disco on the pier. So, here she is, moving in tune with handsome young men whereas the gentle breeze is softly touching her heated body with its cool fingers.

“Thank you. I have never had such a fair lady before. I mean, a dancing partner.”

Marina noted again the admirer’s subtle style, smiled to him and headed for the bar. Yes, the guy seems well-bred. This manner of speech, though, might have been nothing but a trick that he catches naïve girls with. Never had she thought of a serious relationship with a guy. There was no time: her studies ate it all up. And then, of course, there was her father. What would he have been like, her boyfriend that is?

Suddenly, in front of her an image of a young man appeared as if woven of laser beams. She understood: that was him! She felt the chemistry! However, the imaginary construct vanished in the thin air, giving room to a cheerful bartender. He took her order and paid her an unequivocal compliment. Marina was about to drown the bastard in the cocktail he concocted when a pleasant voice called her by name. She looked round and saw her schoolmate, Borya Zimin, a blond hunk. He was wearing linen pants and had no shirt on under his jacket. His sunglasses were settled up on his forehead. A thin gold neck chain and plain sandals on his bare feet emphasized this austere attire.

“Hi, babe! May I join you?” the youth said, coming nearer than good manners permitted.

“He is not a bad guy,” Marina thought, “but he had never been interested in her before. He had his own life, his own little whims, those of a typical golden boy. A real Pinocchio; rich, but a blockhead nonetheless. And what’s he doing here anyway?”

“I came to relax. Went to the disco and here you are,” it was as if she had asked the last question aloud. “What a pleasant and unexpected encounter”.

“Yes, glad to see you. How are things?” Marina tried her best to be polite. “Have you been accepted to any schools?”

“I’m going to be an economist. But let’s forget about business, it’d be better to talk about us,” Boris’ answer was disconcerting.

“About us?” Belova’s eyebrows went up. What’s wrong with him? The speed at which he moved surprised her, but he was appealingly forthcoming at the same time. Why not flirt with him a bit? She is at a sea resort, there’s nothing serious about all this. Just holidating, there’s nothing wrong with that. Her thoughts seemed to belong to somebody else and they surprised her.

“Well, let’s talk about us.”

“You are so beautiful, smart and attractive”, the guy started talking a mile a minute. “Why don’t we start dating?”

No sooner had Marina responded than a third character of the play interrupted:

“Hello, Marina. Do you remember me?” there he was Grisha Poryvayev, as large as life, by the bar. He had on quaker-blue jeans and a black T-shirt that accentuated his well-muscled body. His pitch-black frowzy hair was harnessed in a baseball cap. Tennis shoes and a complete absence of any jewelry emphasized the youth’s sporty look. He didn’t even have a wristwatch. Boris screwed up his face in revulsion when looking at Grisha.

Marina and Grisha lived in the same apartment building, just different entrances. They had known each other since they were little. They were not exactly friends, but their relationship was close and warm. Something else was disturbing: what was it about this disco that drew everybody to it as bees to honey?

“It is the best disco in town. I was sure I would find you here,” it seemed as if she kept talking aloud. Or is he able to read her mind?

“It’s all very strange,” Marina thought, “but if Fate decided to rule this way why don’t the three of us keep having fun together? The party is in full swing, spirits are high. They are young; their whole lives are ahead of them. “This night will belong to us,” Marina decided, “we will put off answering questions until the morning.”

“Shall we dance?” this suggestion was accepted with more enthusiasm than was warranted. They plunged into a foot-tapping rhythm and remained happy for a while.

However, this mood didn’t last long. Trying to decide who would take the lady home, the young men had a serious quarrel. Marina vainly tried to make them listen to reason; neither wanted to give up. The quarrel threatened to turn into a fight. The girl didn’t expect to see what happened next.

First complete silence fell. The spotlight, people’s silhouettes, even a moth that was flying by froze for some inexplicable reason. Only at the very far end of her consciousness did Marina notice a guy and a girl keenly observing what was going on. The time stoppage seemed to have no effect on them. They kept exchanging whispers and tried to call a minimum of attention to themselves. The young men were too busy with their quarrel to notice anything around.

“Today is not your day, little angel,” Boris hissed, towering over Poryvayev, his eyes narrow, a fire raging within. “Give up and I won’t take your life.”

“The time has not come yet for Heaven to fall and for me to get out of the way,” Grisha answered him accordingly. His powerfully built figure seemed to be charged by the surrounding energy.

Could it be that she is asleep and seeing all this in her dream? However, then something extraordinarily weird occurred; although how much worse could it get?

Suddenly Marina found herself on a rocky clintLooking down, she was paralyzed with fear. The girl was standing on top of a cliff many kilometers high, at the base of which the endless sea was seething. No, not sea, but rather myriad weird and scary creatures fused into one shapeless mass. It was throbbing and causing an uprush of fear. Emitting on the horizon, the sea of creatures swelled up as a gigantic ugly sprout and started rising up into the air. .

An even more fantastic view was happening in the skies. A cloud of sparkles that proved to be consisting of angels and cherubims kept fusing and breaking apart in an attempt to form something meaningful. At last they have succeeded; Marina gasped. Covering the whole sky and obstructing the view of the clouds, glistening wings stretched; a huge sword held by a gigantic angel fell on the head of a terrible leviathan that jumped out from inside the pile of mutilated bodies.

Shrieks, moans, screams, all merging in one grandiose outcry almost made Marina faint. The pain was intolerable. Still she had time to notice the two frozen silhouettes of her two admirers on a clint a bit above her. Their eyes were closed, either sweat or tears where streaming down their cheeks, in short they were wet as if after a heavy rain.

Suddenly the apparition dissipated. The quiet came back but gave way to loud music. All of them are in the bar again; the idleaudience is dancing around them. The young men were staring around.

“Who cancelled my curse?” Borya shouted, wiping the sweat off his forehead.

“Sorry for interrupting, but it is late and time to go home,” a short slim young man was standing in front of them. He had a black leather collar on. The studs on it were gleaming in tune with the lights in the hall.

“Something’s fishy here,” Grisha said, breathing heavily.

“That’s what I’d say,” Boris agreed and looked at Grisha very attentively. His eyes narrowed. He hissed: “Look, kid, don’t get on my nerves, or you’ll be sorry…” Marina could swear that she saw a forked tongue in Zimin’s mouth.

“We haven’t decided yet who will take Marina home,” Poryvayev muttered. The quarrel that ended abruptly was going to start anew.

“We are all going together to our place,” Kid stressed the word “together”.

“Where is this ‘our place’? ” the blond young man sniffed in disdain.

Marina coughed:

“To my place. This guy is my aunt’s butler. I am staying with her.”

“We’d better go, the ice cream is melting,” Kid smiled and they set off.

***

“What a huge house,” Poryvayev rolled his eyes admiringly. “A whole medieval castle!”

“Is this some kind of joke or do you really live in this museum?” Boris asked when they stopped at the openwork wrought iron gate.

“Castle? Museum?” Puzzled, Marina studied the mansion. It was nothing but a typical two-storey building; there were lots of this kind in this little resort town. She turned round towards Kid and asked:

“Maybe there’s something wrong with my eyes, but are we in the right place?”

Kid hurried to calm her down:

“It’s all right. It is our home. Welcome!”

When Marina passed the gate, he looked at Marina’s companions, made a grimace, and teased them:

“Castle! Museum! Scared the gal! She knows nothing!”

Indeed, how could she, the most ordinary 16-year old girl, know that this house is older than the entire town, that it is five stories high, and that it does look like a knight’s castle? She could not see the gargoyles on the downspouts rapaciously bearing their teeth into darkness.

A few minutes later, Marina cozily settled down in an armchair with a cup of hot chocolate in her hand. She asked thoughtfully looking in front of her:

“Guys, do you feel someone else’s presence in the house? As if somebody else is around here not hurrying to come in sight?”

Kid, making the table, was about to drop the ice-cream bowl he was holding. Borya looked at him expressively and slowly said: