How the Stars did Fall Read online

She danced for Daniel. Her face was not beautiful but her body was well proportioned and she moved with some grace, and while she danced Daniel felt at the same time elevated and further diminished. A nasty paradox. The Good Man took a handful of pennies and threw them at the whore’s feet while she danced. As if by command, she turned her posterior towards Daniel’s face and lowered her drawers for a brief second before covering herself back up. Lionel cheered at this and slapped Daniel upon the back.

  “Did you see it?” Lionel asked.

  “I think I did,” Daniel said. He was smiling.

  “Cherish this moment, boy. For one day those things which once brought us pleasure may become what brings us the most pain. In life, as in death, nothing can be known. Only felt out like a blind man moving about, his arms extended, his hands seeking out a post upon which to moor himself.”

  This talk astounded Daniel. Even a boy’s understanding could not help but be interested in the mystery of death. So Daniel thought about death for a moment as one thinks about a guest whose appearance has been expected for a long time. And when his attention returned to the spectacle before him, Daniel found that the whore looked quite a bit better in his estimation and the music sounded sweeter, and when the waitress delivered his milk he tipped it back at once, taking nearly all of it in.

  “That milk tastes funny,” he said, raising his voice, because the band had begun a loud chorus of a song well known to the tradesmen of the region.

  “Isn’t it grand? Drink some more.”

  And Daniel did, taking the last few droplets from the cup and pointing out the empty vessel to the waitress, who promptly brought him another portion, this one stronger still, the alcohol pungent and burning. Daniel felt compelled to be bolder, to set aside all self-consciousness, and the first thing he did was extend his arm and touch the dancing whore on her buttocks. Even while emboldened by the alcohol, Daniel expected a backlash. A scolding or perhaps even a slap. Yet the woman did nothing to discourage him and, in fact, pushed herself closer to the boy, thereby making it easier for him to feel her out.

  All of this Lionel observed and Daniel, detecting some hint of malice in the man’s eyes, withdrew his hand, letting it rest once again on the cool glass of milk.

  “You ready to have some real fun, boy?” Lionel said.

  Daniel’s interest was piqued at the words. Did he mean to allow him access to this woman? Drinking the last of his second glass of milk, Daniel stood, taking hold of his belt buckle in a faux-adult pose, and said he was most definitely ready. That he wanted nothing else but to have more fun.

  The woman was not so receptive to the idea. In fact, her reaction was opposite Daniel’s as she quickly took the seat Daniel had vacated and propped her head onto her palms, her fingers covering her mouth, as if she had just seen some sick horror.

  “Leave the boy be, Lionel,” she said.

  “Shut your mouth, woman,” Lionel said back to her. Then to the boy: “Come, let’s go up there. That’s where the real fun happens.”

  Daniel hesitated for a moment while Lionel walked away from the table towards the stairs. The whore held his little arm with one of her hands, and bending down she looked at his eyes and Daniel saw that she had begun to weep. Only a few whimpers escaped from her mouth as if something held her tongue and then her eyes darted forward and, seeing Lionel ahead, she let go, running back to the bar.

  If her intention had been to cause some trepidation in Daniel, then she had succeeded, for even now he held himself back, unsure about following Lionel up the stairs. The alcohol now worked against Lionel, for it heightened Daniel’s awareness in a way, distorting shadows into monsters. But Lionel, in his cunning, devised another plan and before long a different whore appeared before Daniel. This one spoke to the boy in whispers and smiled and touched his hand and soon had him climbing the stairs one step at a time. While he climbed, Daniel paused as he saw the ruggedness of the handrail. It was as if someone had hacked at it with a little knife all throughout its length, drawing shallow triangles and squares and hexagons upon it. These shapes jogged some deep memory of Daniel’s loose, for just as he reached the top of the stairs his mouth came agape and he would not move no matter how insistent the whore in front of him was, no matter her explicit promises. Until, that is, she brought out a knife from her corset and let him feel its pointed tip against his back. Now threatened in this way he began to move forward and into the one of the rooms, where the windows had been shuttered and candles lit. But by some mercy, the vision faded then and in an instant Daniel returned to the present, a lingering dread the only vestige of the world he had just left behind.

  “What malice was that? Is this your doing, brother? Have you taken up sorcery while on your long sojourn?”

  “It is no sorcery. Tell him, Adler.”

  Now the green man took a few steps towards Daniel and as he did so his whole figure enlarged like some approaching shadow, and when he spoke his voice was at once loud and quiet as if he could funnel the sound to where he wished it to go and keep it from those whom he wished to avoid.

  “Heed those visions, for they are echoes of a time past, and nothing which you saw is false even if it may not mean what you believe it to mean.”

  Daniel heard the man, and heeding the words, he fell deep into thought, trying to examine the ordering of those events he had taken part in. Much of it he remembered now to have happened. Including all of the words Lionel, the Good Man, had spoken to him. But the last part in the room remained dark to him.

  “Daniel, listen to me. You must take control of the fort and surrender your forces to the Union,” Faraday said, failing to hold his brother’s attention.

  “Leave him be. He is working out what must be done on his own. We have done our part,” Adler said.

  And before Adler had finished speaking, Daniel left in a hurry, heading towards the Good Man in his cabin.

  Upon reaching the wooden edifice and unbolting the door, Daniel found the fireplace lit but hidden behind a tall chair. Around the chair, empty bottles of whiskey stood in clumps like guardian totems, and next to them used-up cigarillos, their tips charred black and shedding ash as if burnt in effigy, marking the Good Man’s place of habitation. As Daniel stood a short distance from the chair, a growing dread within him made him want to flee, like a child about to confront a parent. But even those deepest fibers of memory and identity may be overridden and Daniel persisted, taking a few steps forward, when finally he heard the hushed whispers of the Good Man to someone not yet identifiable. Daniel knew these whispers. These honeyed phrases designed to weaken resolve and force compliance. The Good Man himself had taught Daniel that there is far greater power in words spoken than in any of the mystical arts or any other applied magic. They are the purest form of warfare, the Good Man once said, as one will imposes upon another thoughts foreign and invasive and the other will tries to fight back and the only outcome can be complete victory for one side or the other.

  Embracing his sudden rage, Daniel took hold of the chair and pulled it hard to one side, turning it away from the fire and towards himself.

  The Good Man sat with an Indian boy in his lap, an emperor of that land, his hideous features never before more obvious to Daniel, as if some spell wrought long ago upon his vision had deteriorated to the point of failing and now he could see the foul monster before him as he truly was. A product of rebellion feeding upon the sorrows of man.

  “What lies do you whisper to the boy?” Daniel asked.

  The Good Man took the interruption with a measure of grace, spending a moment in thought before responding.

  “Some madness infects you. I can smell it floating around you. A foul cloud of deceit and ego. Do you remember what I taught you about desire?”

  “The only one with foul desires here is you, monster. I see you holding the boy.”

  The boy wore clothes proper enough for an Indian and had in his hand a cup from which he took a sip now and again as he observed the exchange in silence.


  “I have done nothing to the boy but give him food to eat and water to drink.”

  “Liar!” Now Daniel came up close to the Good Man, his strong arms within reach of the frail man’s throat. One swift movement and all would be over.

  “Hold on, now, Daniel. I will not say that I have not done things in the past that I now regret. But I have done nothing to this boy, and if he could speak our language he would tell you himself. And have you never erred for you to accost me now? And what of the people you have hurt? Should you not pursue yourself with the same fervor?”

  “Oh, but I do. If only you could know that pain. Then I would not even have to do this.”

  Wrapping his hands around the Good Man’s neck, Daniel forced him off the chair, causing the boy to fall onto the floor and throwing the Good Man atop the empty bottles and expired cigarillos. Then Daniel tightened his hold over the Good Man’s neck, inhibiting not only air from entering the Good Man’s lungs but blood from reaching his brain until the man collapsed, a gray mound of flesh, his baldness and meager physique no longer any more relevant to the world of the living than any of the mummified pharaohs of old.

  But the taking of this life had its own price, for Daniel did weep and he softly murmured: “What have I done?” Yet that murmur lost its efficacy as soon as Daniel took a sip from the boy’s cup. It was milk mixed with whiskey and Daniel spat it out almost as soon as it hit his tongue, and no regret for killing the Good Man ever occurred to him again.

  Holding the boy, Daniel left the cabin and thought about fleeing, certain that the Good Man’s acolytes would hang him for his crime. But before he could begin his march, the sound of artillery invaded the sky, the projectile falling into the eastern wall of the fort with vicious power. More cannon fire followed, each time failing to hit a target of any value. But the fifth one pierced the Good Man’s cabin, causing a ruinous devastation. By the time that fifth cannonball had come down from the heavens, the whole camp had awoken to see what was happening, and finding the Good Man reduced to rubble, they looked upon Daniel, still holding the boy, as their new leader.

  There was no time to contest the will of those soldiers, for the cannon fire continued to fall upon them without ceasing and for his own protection as much as that of the men who now followed him, Daniel marshaled what forces he could to retreat from the fort and find some kind of haven in the outer reaches of that wilderness. So he hollered at the men, ordering them here and there, all the while looking up in trembling wonder at the power above, trying fruitlessly to avoid the projectiles, for they moved too fast and no man could avoid them if the fates decreed it.

  Once a majority of the soldiers had assembled just outside the fort, Daniel took the lead and walked some distance from the walls, watching from afar the flames and the ruined structures broken like twigs. Then he remembered what Faraday had said to him, that a Union army marched upon them, and he searched the horizon for signs of his brother and the one that had been with him but found none. So he waited and eventually the volleys of cannon fire stopped, and even then he waited some more, holding his men in place, until he was sure the lull was no momentary lapse but a full stop to that aggression.

  Then Daniel left the boy on the ground and walked alone back to the fort. He walked past the walls and into the courtyard, the ground now peppered with cannonballs black as midnight, and he walked right up to the ruined cabin within which the corpse of the Good Man still resided. The fire still raged but weakly, a sickly heart of orange and red, the flames suffocated slowly by the collapsed wooden structure. Betrayed by its very own fuel. And Daniel dug into the mound of wood and ash, pulling away the boards and columns until he found the body of the man he had killed. The fire had not been able to reach it as if the spirit which governs that element could not itself bear to consume such twisted and nefarious flesh. Daniel did not touch the body either, and no joy did he feel as he stood over it, only a profound relief. Not only for himself but for all of those whom the Good Man had adversely affected and further still for the whole body of mankind stretching all the way back to the first man and forward to the last man still to come in some distant future.

  Daniel took up from the remains of the cabin a splinter about the size of his arm, and leaving the body behind, he found a white tablecloth that had been left behind in another part of the fort and tied it to the stick, creating a flag of surrender. Returning to his soldiers, he spoke to them of the magnitude of the forces arrayed against them, explaining that the full force of the Union had assembled to quell their rebellion and that the only way for them to survive was to surrender. Some men murmured at this but the larger part were simple craftsmen and farmers and speculators with hope for the future, so they accepted Daniel’s idea.

  They set out together to sue for peace, most of them walking, only a few riding horses, with Daniel at the head of the column, holding up the white flag. And they marched past the fort and into the fields beyond, all somber in defeat, looking like ghosts rather than living men. They marched into tall grass and it was only as they waded into the stalks that they began to notice bodies on the ground. Bodies of men wearing the blue uniforms of the Union. As they rode the number of fallen men grew until they were too numerous to count and their bodies were all mashed up and disfigured. Injuries no gun or rifle could impart. It was not long before Daniel and his men discovered the source of the devastation. They heard it before they saw it. A rumbling in the ground. The steps of giants. Living, moving columns of stone with arms and heads and eyes. And the sight of these things was so peculiar that many of the men were unable to see them, even after others had pointed them out, their simple minds struggling to make sense of the absurdities before them.

  Upon seeing these animated golems, Daniel stopped his horse and waited, unsure of their intentions. He thought about fleeing but feared that might make pursuit attractive, like running from some wildcat would. He knew he could not confront such power, their weapons useless against the hard rock that made up these things’ bodies. The only possible move was to seek parlay with them as he had intended to do with the Union forces. And if he were to parlay, he would have to find the one who commanded these things.

  So he set out cautiously, keeping his distance from the golems. Eventually, he came upon a big group of the things, five or six large ones and many more smaller, surrounding a man in a Kossuth hat, and he saw that the rocks appeared to be protecting this man. Coming up further behind, Daniel saw two more people, a bearded man and a girl. He recognized the girl. It was his half-sister, Olivia. But while he held up his white flag and rode towards her, all of the golems turned their attention towards Daniel and began to march towards him, their gaits filled with malice and intent to murder. The man in the Kossuth hat did nothing to stop this movement until he received a signal from the bearded man. Then he let out a command and all of the golems halted in place.

  Olivia approached Daniel first. She took his hand in hers.

  “Did you do it?” She asked. “Did you kill him?”

  Daniel thought about the Good Man, but did not understand how Olivia could know about that. He hugged her without answering. While still embracing his half-sister, he saw out of the corner of his eye a girl trying to hide behind one of the giant rock men. He recognized her.

  “Molly? Is that you?”

  She responded to her name and came out into the open.

  “It is you,” Daniel said. “You’re alive.” Then he turned to Olivia. “How did you find her?”

  “All of your questions will be answered in time, brother. Now go to that man. His name is Lynch. He knows who you are.”

  While Daniel walked towards Lynch, he began to feel tremendous guilt and shame. With the Good Man dead, he felt as though he could for the first time see the world as it is, and hear it as it sounds. And what he heard was the agony of those who he had harmed or killed in service to the Good Man. He felt such deep shame that when he reached Lynch his eyes were cast down towards the ground.


  “Look up now,” Lynch said. “Only the lower animals spend their lives looking at the ground.”

  Daniel did look up and he found he did not know what to say.

  “There is no need to feel shame. Do you enjoy art? I dabble in painting myself. I would like to paint something for you. Perhaps the San Francisco Bay? Yes, I think that would suit us just fine.”

  Carefully, the largest rock men picked each of them up and carried them forward, their huge steps conquering mile after mile of chaparral on the way to San Francisco. Before reaching the city, Lynch directed them up San Bruno Mountain and from that vantage point they watched together the buildings on fire. They could hear the sound of gunfire far in the distance. The last few pockets of conflict.

  “Unfortunately, I do not have my palette of colors here with me, only pen and paper. A mere sketch will have to do,” Lynch said.

  When he had finished drawing, he tore the page and gave it to Daniel.

  “What do you think?”

  “It’s beautiful.”

  “Well, it is not everyday you can see a city of this size in flames. Like the desolate halls of Dis. In any case, it is time to put those fires out. Olivia.”

  Olivia closed her eyes and concentrated. Instantly a massive tidal wave appeared rolling towards San Francisco from the west.

  “Bigger,” Lynch said. “You must make it bigger.”

  Olivia let go of the wave.

  “I can’t do it alone,” she said.

  Lynch nodded and a smaller rock man came up from the rear carrying an Indian woman. The rock man laid the Indian on the ground in front of Olivia. Touching the Indian, Olivia resumed her work. This time the very air seemed to vibrate around Daniel and he watched in awe as a whole mountain range of water came out of the west growing as it moved until it blocked out the evening sun.

  “Good,” Lynch said. “We will wash away the filth of the old city and make a new one in its place.”

  The water fell on the city, covering it up completely, snuffing out the fires but also destroying every building which had still been standing and dragging all of the rubble into the bay. When the waters finally receded nothing stood but the sturdiest stone constructions.