A weapon of victory, chapter 3: Interlude in Sunnydale, 1
Willow's scream seemed to hang in the air, somehow, even after the sound had faded. And out of nowhere, without any warning, there there was a whipping and a hissing. The wind was rising at incredible speed, and suddenly the heavens were full of black, swollen, ragged clouds. Thunder was striking across the city and the valley beyond, and rain began to fall in fury.
"Dear God…" whispered Giles as he hunched himself over against the gale.
"Is she doing what I think…?" asked Spike, and barely managed to be heard above the storm.
"Weather magic," said Tara with horror. She was still bearing the injuries Glory had inflicted on her, and had barely been dragged away from in sanity, only to be lost in this new horror.
"I..is that...bad?" asked Dawn, whose teeth were chattering.
"Some… some of the worst magic there is… niblet," said Spike.
"They… they say that it was… the fear of… of weather magic, that unleashed… the old witch-hunts," added Tara.
"It was," said Giles grimly. And suddenly one bolt of lightning, then another, lit up the surroundings brighter than daylight, and they saw that Willow's feet were no longer touching the ground. "But why on Earth she should… I mean, weather magic can't shut down the Hellmouth. And the monsters… won't mind…" And he suddenly stopped, and they saw his face go pale.
Willow raised her right arm, and they saw her throw something into the wind. And a sound came from her, louder than a scream, and not altogether human. And all the monsters stopped and looked before then; and those that had faces that could show expressions, were showing bewidlerment, astonishment, even awe.
Í TENNUR HÆPANDI STORMINS, KAPIÐI ÉG RÚNIR ÓÐINS!
RÚNAR LÍFS OG DAUÐA!
TÓLF ÉG KAPIÐ!
"Necromancy," whispered Giles.
ÉG KALLI ÞIG FRÁ DAUÐANUM SEM HEFUR KRAFT ÞIG, ÞÚ SEM KALLAÐIR SIG GUÐJU! GLORIFICUS, ÉG KALLA ÞIG ÚR UNDYPINNI!
Something strange and shapeless, luminous, but with a sick reddish light, was rising before Willow, but there was something about its struggling, convulsive motion that suggested that it was resisting the forces that were bringing it there. Then Willow's voice suddenly sank, and sounded once more like that of a slight, shy young woman; but there was something in it that was even more compelling than the rolling thunder that had brought the rain and storm and halted the monsters in their tracks. She just raised two fingers of her right hand and spoke a few German lines:
Du siehst daß ich nicht vergebens drohe.
Ich versenge dich mit heiliger Lohe!
Erwarte nicht
Das dreymal glühende Licht!
Erwarte nicht
Die stärkste von meinen Künsten!
The light stopped twitching and twisting, and seemed to bend in obedience. And suddenly, on her knees before the hovering witch, was Glory; but not as proud and viciously happy as she had seemed until Willow and Buffy had assaulted her. She was naked, and her curls were plastered across her forehead by sweat and blood. Her face was blue and cyanotic, bearing the signs of the suffocation that had killed Ben, and her mouth was full of her swollen tongue. In every way, it was a corpse that knelt before Willow.
And Willow floated the corpse of Glory through the rain-shaken air to herself, three or four feet above the ground. She held the dirty, bloodied, bluish body in her arms as if it was a lover, and kissed it on that ghastly blue mouth. And... Glory was in her arms, whole and unbroken and as she was in life. They saw her; everybody saw her. But then they saw her lower her eyes, as if she did not dare to look at Willow – at whatever Willow was now – in the eye. And they heard her speak.
"I am yours, mistress."
"Are you?"
"You know I am," said the naked being hesitantly. "I couldn't NOT be."
"Well, then, my beloved slave… close all this," said Willow, pointing at the monsters and the rent through space, and to the Hellmouth beyond.
"All, mistress?"
"All. It's easier to close than to open. I should know, I closed it once myself."
"Indeed, mistress. I only wanted to be sure of your wish."
They saw the thing that wore Glory's face and body kiss Willow's foot, then turn to the monsters and to the rent in space. At her gestured command, all the horrible things that had been sweeping and destroying everything in their path turned like sheep, and moved, in a slow, disorderly, but quiet wave, towards the opening in space.
(And it seemed easy, but they noticed that Glory was breathing more and more heavily, as if she were exhausting herself in a physical task beyond her strength; and her arms and legs were starting to tremble.)
And when the last of the terrible herd had peacefully crossed the threshold, Glory made a single, wide closing gesture with both arms, and the rent above the Hellmouth vanished as if it had never been there.
Only then did Glory let out a scream of pain and exhaustion, and collapsed to the ground, with blood flowing from her nostrils and mouth.
Willow set down by her and pulled her head and shoulders on to her lap. She looked at her with pity in her eyes.
"You mustn't die for me again, you know."
"It's a privilege, my beloved… my beloved mistress. You made me so much more than I had ever been,,," All this was little more than a whisper, and Giles, who had come close, had to strain to hear and understand. "All my life and death, I had never known what love was. It was worth it, to learn it… I love you mistress. I love you so much more than my life."
"And I love you. And you will not die. You will live… and you will change… and serve me… and be glad."
"Anything you do is good for me… may I say it? My love…"
And then Glory wasn't there, at least as she had been. But Willow was wearing a new dress, splendid and royal, with a magnificent jewel at her throat.
"It's not forever," said Willow to the bewildered Scoobies. "She will recover and heal in this form… and her power as a goddess will be available to me. And she will have her human form as often as she likes, and be with me."
"Yes," she explained to a horrified Giles and a very nervous Spike, "this is magic of the left hand path. But it is not dark, I swear it. It is the deepest possible level of love magic, and only someone like me can hold it. And it is necessary. I can't tell you yet what is going to be done, or why… you shall know in time. But this is only the beginning.
"All things that move between the quiet poles
Shall be at my command. Emperors and kings
Are but obeyed in their several provinces,
Nor can they raise the wind, or rend the clouds;
But his dominion that exceeds in this,
Stretcheth as far as doth the mind of man;
A sound magician is a mighty god…."
And she had never sounded more like the Willow of two hours earlier, a bit timid, a bit cheeky, and with a cute unaggressive smile, when she said: "And now Sunnydale has a goddess of its own."
END OF THE CHAPTER.
A few notes.
I said I would try to write faster, but I am surprised myself at the speed with which this chapter, though short, came together. I can't promise I'll manage anything similar in future.
It may be that it was because so much of it is quotations.
Willow's invocation is in something that ought to be Icelandic, with my apologies to an ancient and noble language. I had to use an electronic translator. Here is the English I worked from; the first two lines are from Walt Simonson's Thor, the last is mine.
INTO THE TEETH OF THE HOWLING STORM, I CAST THE RUNES OF ODIN! THE RUNES OF LIFE AND DEATH!
TWELVE I CAST!
I CALL YOU FROM THE DEATH THAT HAS CLAIMED YOU, YOU WHO CALLED YOURSELF A GODDESS! GLORIFICUS, I SUMMON YOU FROM THE ABYSS!
The verses in German are from Goethe's Faust, and this is my translation (not literal):
Seest thou not that my threat is not in vain?
I threaten thee with the single holiest name!
Do not await
The light that shines at once one and threefold!
Do not await
The mightiest art my hands and mind can hold!
The final verses are from Robert Marlowe's Doctor Faustus.