Chapter 28 TWENTY-SIX - THE ABYSS

It was dark, with an enfolding blackness that pressed on Lyras eyes so heavily that she almost felt the weight of the thousands of tons of rock above them. The only light they had came from the luminous tail of the Lady Salmakias dragonfly, and even that was fading; for the poor insects had found no food in the world of the dead, and the Chevaliers had died not long before. So while Tialys sat on Wills shoulder, Lyra held the Lady dragonfly in her hands as the Lady soothed it and whispered to the trembling creature, feeding it first on crumbs of biscuit and then on her own blood. If Lyra had seen her do that, she would have offered hers, since there was more of it; but it was all she could do to concentrate on placing her feet safely and avoiding the lowest parts of the rock above.

No-Name the harpy had led them into a system of caves that would bring them, she said, to the nearest point in the world of the dead from which they could open a window to another world. Behind them came the endless column of ghosts The tunnel was full of whispers, as the foremost encouraged those behind, as the brave urged on the fainthearted, as the old gave hope to the young. "Is it much farther, No-Name?" said Lyra quietly. "Because this poor dragonflys dying, and then his lightll go out." The harpy stopped and turned to say: "Just follow. If you cant see, listen. If you cant hear, feel."

Her eyes shone fierce in the gloom. Lyra nodded and said, "Yes, I will, but Im not as strong as I used to be, and Im not brave, not very anyway. Please dont stop. Ill follow you, we all will . Please keep going, No-Name." The harpy turned back and moved on. The dragonfly shine was getting dimmer by the minute, and Lyra knew it would soon be completely gone. But as she stumbled forward, a voice spoke just beside her, a familiar voice. "Lyra, Lyra, child..." And she turned in delight. "Mr. Scoresby! Oh, Im so glad to hear you! And it is you, I can see, just, oh, I wish I could touch you!"

In the faint, faint light she made out the lean form and the sardonic smile of the Texan aeronaut, and her hand reached forward of its own accord, in vain. "Me too, honey. But listen to me, they're working some trouble out there, and its aimed at you, dont ask me how. Is this the boy with the knife?" Will had been looking at him, eager to see this old companion of Lyras; but now his eyes went right past Lee to look at the ghost beside him. Lyra saw at once who it was, and marveled at this grown-up vision of Will , the same jutting jaw, the same way of holding his head. Will was speechless, but his father said:

"Listen, theres no time to talk about this, just do exactly as I say. Take the knife now and find a place where a lock has been cut from Lyras hair." His tone was urgent, and Will didnt waste time asking why. Lyra, her eyes wide with alarm, held up the dragonfly with one hand and felt her hair with the other. "No," said Will, "take your hand away, I cant see." And in the faint gleam, he could see it: just above her left temple, there was a little patch of hair that was shorter than the rest. "Who did that?" said Lyra. "And..." "Hush," said Will, and asked his fathers ghost, "What must I do?"

"Cut the short hair off right down to her scalp. Collect it carefully, every single hair. Dont miss even one. Then open another world, any will do, and put the hair through into it, and then close it again. Do it now, at once." The harpy was watching, the ghosts behind were crowding close. Lyra could see their faint faces in the dimness. Frightened and bewildered, she stood biting her lip while Will did as his father told him, his face close up to the knifepoint in the paling dragonfly light. He cut a little hollow space in the rock of another world, put all the tiny golden hairs into it, and replaced the rock before closing the window.

And then the ground began to shake. From somewhere very deep came a growing, grinding noise, as if the whole center of the earth were turning on itself like a vast millwheel, and little fragments of stone began to fall from the roof of the tunnel The ground lurched suddenly to one side. Will seized Lyras arm, and they clung together as the rock under their feet began to shift and slide, and loose pieces of stone came tumbling past, bruising their legs and feet... The two children, sheltering the Gallivespians, crouched down with their arms over their heads; and then in a horrible sliding movement they found themselves being borne away down to the left, and they held each other fiercely, too breathless and shaken even to cry out . Their ears were filled with the roar of thousands of tons of rock tumbling and rolling down with them.

Finally their movement stopped, though all around them smaller rocks were still tumbling and bounding down a slope that hadnt been there a minute before. Lyra was lying on Wills left arm. With his right hand he felt for the knife; it was still there at his belt. "Tialys? Salmakia?" said Will shakily. "Both here, both alive," said the Chevaliers voice near his ear. The air was full of dust, and of the cordite smell of smashed rock. It was hard to breathe, and impossible to see: the dragonfly was dead. "Mr. Scoresby?" said Lyra. "We cant see anything... What happened?"

"I'm here," said Lee, close by. "I guess the bomb went off, and I guess it missed." "Bomb?" said Lyra, frightened; but then she said, "Roger, are you there?" "Yeah," came the little whisper. "Mr. Parry, he saved me. I was going to fall, and he caught hold." "Look," said the ghost of John Parry. "But hold still to the rock, and dont move." The dust was clearing, and from somewhere there was light: a strange faint golden glimmer, like a luminous misty rain falling all around them. It was enough to strike their hearts ablaze with fear, for it lit up what lay to their left, the place into which it was all falling, or flowing, like a river over the edge of a waterfall.

It was a vast black emptiness, like a shaft into the deepest darkness. The golden light flowed into it and died. They could see the other side, but it was much farther away than Will could have thrown a stone. To their right, a slope of rough stones, loose and precariously balanced, rose high into the dusty gloom. The children and their companions were clinging to what was not even a ledge, just some lucky hand- and footholds, on the edge of that abyss, and there was no way out except forward, along the slope, among the shattered rocks and the teetering boulders, which, it seemed, the slightest touch would send hurtling down below.

And behind them, as the dust cleared, more and more of the ghosts were gazing in horror at the abyss. They were crouching on the slope, too frightened to move. Only the harpies were unafraid; scanning backward and forward, flying back to reassure those still in the tunnel, flying ahead to search for the way out. Lyra checked: at least the alethiometer was safe. Suppressing her fear, she looked around, found Rogers little face, and said: "Come on, then, were all still here, we ent been hurt. And we can see now, at least. So just keep going, just keep on moving. We cant go any other way than round the edge of this... " She gestured at the abyss. "So we just got to keep going ahead. I swear Will and mell just keep on till we do. So dont be scared, dont give up, dont lag behind. Tell the others. I cant look back all the time because I got to watch where Im going, so I got to trust you to come on steady after us, all right?" The little ghost nodded. And so, in a shocked silence, the column of the dead began their journey along the edge of the abyss. How long it took, neither Lyra nor Will could guess; how fearful and dangerous it was, they were never able to forget. The darkness below was so profound that it seemed to pull the eyesight down into it, and a ghastly dizziness swam over their minds when they looked. Whenever they could, they looked ahead of them fixedly, on this rock, that foothold , this projection, that loose slope of gravel, and kept their eyes from the gulf; but it pulled, it tempted, and they couldn't help glancing into it, only to feel their balance tilting and their eyesight swimming and a dreadful nausea gripping their throats . From time to time the living ones looked back and saw the infinite line of the dead winding out of the crack theyd come through: mothers pressing their infants faces to their breasts, aged fathers clambering slowly, little children clutching the skirts of the person in front , young boys and girls of Rogers age keeping staunch and careful, so many of them... And all following Will and Lyra, so they still hoped, toward the open air. But some didnt trust them. They crowded close behind, and both children felt cold hands on their hearts and their entrails, and they heard vicious whispers: "Where is the upper world? How much farther?" "Were frightened here!" "We should never have come, at least back in the world of the dead we had a little light and a little company, this is far worse!" "You did a wrong thing when you came to our land! You should have stayed in your own world and waited to die before you came down to disturb us!" "By what right are you leading us? You are only children! Who gave you the authority?" Will wanted to turn and denounce them, but Lyra held his arm; they were unhappy and frightened, she said. Then the Lady Salmakia spoke, and her clear, calm voice carried a long way in the great emptiness. "Friends, be brave! Stay together and keep going! The way is hard, but Lyra can find it. Be patient and cheerful and well lead you out, dont fear!" Lyra felt herself strengthened by hearing this, and that was really the Ladys intention. And so they toiled on, with painful effort. "Will," said Lyra after some minutes, "can you hear that wind?" "Yes, I can," said Will. "But I cant feel it at all. And I tell you something about that hole down there. Its the same kind of thing as when I cut a window. The same kind of edge. Theres something special about that kind of edge; once you've felt it you never forget it. And I can see it there, just where the rock falls away into the dark. But that big space down there, thats not another world like all the others. Its different. I dont like it. I wish I could close it up." "You haven't closed every window you've made." "No, because I couldnt, some of them. But I know I should. Things go wrong if theyre left open. And one that big..." He gestured downward, not wanting to look. " While they were talking together, another conversation had been taking place a little way off: the Chevalier Tialys was talking quietly with the ghosts of Lee Scoresby and John Parry. "So what are you saying, John?" said Lee. "Youre saying we ought not to go out into the open air? Man, every single part of me is aching to join the rest of the living universe again!" "Yes, and so am I," said Wills father. "But I believe that if those of us who are used to fighting could manage to hold ourselves back, we might be able to throw ourselves into the battle on Asriels side. And if it came at the right moment, it might make all the difference." "Ghosts?" said Tialys, trying to hold the skepticism from his voice, and failing. "How could you fight?" "We couldn't hurt living creatures, thats quite true. But Asriels army is going to contend with other kinds of being as well." "Those Specters," said Lee. "Just what I was thinking. They make for the daemon, dont they? And our daemons are long gone. Its worth a try, Lee." "Well, Im with you, my friend." "And you, sir," said John Parrys ghost to the Chevalier: "I have spoken to the ghosts of your people. Will you live long enough to see the world again, before you die and come back as a ghost?" "Its true, our lives are short compared to yours. I have a few days more to live," said Tialys, "and the Lady Salmakia a little longer, perhaps. But thanks to what those children are doing, our exile as ghosts will not be permanent. I have been proud to help them." They moved on. And that abominable fall yawned all the time, and one little slip, one footstep on a loose rock, one careless hold, would send you down forever and ever, thought Lyra, so far down youd die of starvation before you ever hit the bottom, and then your poor ghost would go on falling and falling into an infinite gulf, with no one to help, no hands to reach down and lift you out, forever conscious and forever falling... Oh, that would be far worse than the gray, silent world they were leaving, wouldn't it? A strange thing happened to her mind then. The thought of falling induced a kind of vertigo in Lyra, and she swayed. Will was ahead of her, just too far to reach, or she might have taken his hand; was more conscious of Roger, and a little flicker of vanity blazed up for a moment in her heart. Thered been an occasion once on Jordan College roof when just to frighten him, shed defied her vertigo and walked along the edge of the stone gutter. She looked back to remind him of it now. She was Rogers Lyra, full of grace and daring; she didn't need to creep along like an insect. But the little boys whispering voice said, "Lyra, be careful, remember, you ent dead like us..." And it seemed to happen so slowly, but there was nothing she could do: her weight shifted, the stones moved under her feet, and helplessly she began to slide. In the first moment it was annoying, and then it was comic: How silly ! she thought. But as she utterly failed to hold on to anything, as the stones rolled and tumbled beneath her, as she slid down toward the edge, gathering speed, the horror of it slammed into her. was nothing to stop her. It was already too late. Her body convulsed with terror. She wasn't aware of the ghosts who flung themselves down to try and catch her, only to find her hurting through them like a stone through mist; she didn't know that Will was yelling her name so loudly that the abyss resounded with it. Instead, her whole being was a vortex of roaring fear. Faster and faster she tumbled, down and down, and some ghosts couldn't bear to watch; Will felt electric with fear. He watched in anguish as Lyra slid farther and farther, knowing he could do nothing, and knowing he had to watch. He couldn't hear the desperate wail he was uttering any more than she could. Another two seconds, another second, she was at the edge, she couldn't stop, she was there, she was falling... And out of the dark swooped that creature whose claws had raked her scalp not long before, No-Name the harpy, woman-faced, bird-winged, and those same claws closed tight around the girls wrist. Together they plunged on down, the extra weight almost too much for the harpys strong wings, but they beat and beat and beat, and her claws held firm, and slowly, heavily, slowly, heavily, the harpy carried the child up and up out of the gulf and brought her limp and fainting to Wills reaching arms. He held her tight, pressing her to his chest, feeling the wild beat of her heart against his ribs. She wasn't Lyra just then, and he wasn't Will; she wasn't a girl, and he wasn't a boy. beings in that vast gulf of death. They clung together, and the ghosts clustered around, whispering comfort, blessing the harpy. Closest at hand were Wills father and Lee Scoresby, and how they longed to hold her, too; to No-Name, praising her, calling her the savior of them all, generous one, blessing her kindness. As soon as Lyra could move, she reached out trembling for the harpy and put her arms around her neck, kissing and kissing her ravaged face. She couldn't speak. All the words, all the confidence, all the vanity had been shaken out of her . They lay still for some minutes. Once the terror had begun to subside, they set off again, Will holding Lyras hand tightly in his good one. They crept forward, testing each spot before they put any weight on it, a process so slow and wearisome that they thought they might die of fatigue; but they couldn't rest, they couldn't stop. How could anyone rest, with that fearful gulf below them? And after another hour of toil, he said to her: "Look ahead. I think theres a way out..." It was true: the slope was getting easier, and it was even possible to climb slightly, up and away from the edge. And ahead: wasn't that a fold in the wall of the cliff? Could that really be a way out? Lyra looked into Wills brilliant, strong eyes and smiled. They clambered on, up and farther up, with every step moving farther from the abyss. And as they climbed, they found the ground firmer, the handles more secure, the footholds less liable to roll and twist their ankles. "We must have climbed a fair way now," Will said. "I could try the knife and see what I find." "Not yet," said the harpy. "Farther to go yet. This is a bad place to open. Better place higher up." They carried on quietly, hand, foot, weight, move, test, hand, foot...Their fingers were raw, their knees and hips were trembling with the effort, their heads ached and rang with exhaustion. They climbed the last few feet up to the foot of the cliff, where a narrow defile led a little way into the shadow. Lyra watched with aching eyes as Will took the knife and began to search the air, touching, withdrawing, searching, touching again. "Ah," he said. "You found an open space?" "I think so..." "Will," said his fathers ghost, "stop a moment. Listen to me." Will put down the knife and turned. In all the effort he hadnt been able to think of his father, but it was good to know he was there. Suddenly he realized that they were going to part for the last time. "What will happen when you go outside?" Will said. "Will you just vanish?" "Not yet. Mr. Scoresby and I have an idea. Some of us will remain here for a little while, and we shall need you to let us into Lord Asriels world, because he might need our help. Whats more," he went on somberly, looking at Lyra, "you'll need to travel there yourself, if you want to find your daemons again. Because thats where they've gone." "But Mr. Parry," said Lyra, "how do you know our daemons have gone into my fathers world?" "I was a shaman when I was alive. I learned how to see things. Ask your alethiometer, it'll confirm what I say. But remember this about daemons," he said, and his voice was intense and emphatic. "The man you knew as Sir Charles Latrom had to return to his own world periodically; he could not live permanently in mine. The philosophers of the Guild of the Torre degli Angeli, who traveled between worlds for three hundred years or more, found the same thing to he true , and gradually their world weakened and decayed as a result. "And then there is what happened to me. I was a soldier; I was an officer in the Marines, and then I earned my living as an explorer; I was as fit and healthy as its possible for a human to be. Then I walked out of my own world by accident, and couldnt find the way back. I did many things and learned a great deal in the world I found myself in, but ten years after I arrived there, I was mortally sick. "And this is the reason for all those things: your daemon can only live its full life in the world it was born in. Elsewhere it will eventually sicken and die. We can travel, if there are openings into other worlds, but we can only live in our own. Lord Asriels great enterprise will fail in the end for the same reason: we have to build the Republic of Heaven where we are, because for us there is no elsewhere. "Will, my boy, you and Lyra can go out now for a brief rest; you need that, and you deserve it; but then you must come back into the dark with me and Mr. Scoresby for one last journey." Will and Lyra exchanged a look. Then he cut a window, and it was the sweetest thing they had ever seen. The night air filled their lungs, fresh and clean and cool; their eyes took in a canopy of dazzling stars, and the shine of water somewhere below, and here and there groves of great trees, as high as castles, dotting the wide savannah. Will enlarged the window as wide as he could, moving across the grass to left and right, making it big enough for six, seven, eight to walk through abreast, out of the land of the dead. The first ghosts trembled with hope, and their excitement passed back like a ripple over the long line behind them, young children and aged parents alike looking up and ahead with delight and wonder as the first stars they had seen for centuries shone through into their poor starved eyes. The first ghost to leave the world of the dead was Roger. He took a step forward, and turned to look back at Lyra, and laughed in surprise as he found himself turning into the night, the starlight, the air... and then he was gone, leaving behind such a vivid little burst of happiness that Will was reminded of the bubbles in a glass of champagne. The other ghosts followed Roger, and Will and Lyra fell exhausted on the dew-laden grass, every nerve in their bodies blessing the sweetness of the good soil, the night air, the stars.