Текст книги "James Potter and the Hall of the Elders' Crossing"

Автор книги: G. Norman Lippert

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        "Yeah! What's the plan?"

        "No!" James exclaimed. "Sorry. I'm not supposed to tell anyone about it but Ted. My dad said–"

        Zane's eyebrows shot up. "Your dad? Cool! Serious Auror stuff! Come on, you can't run off to have Harry Potter-style adventures without your buddy Zane, can you?"

        James stopped in the main hall, exasperated. "All right! You can follow us out, but if Dad says you have to come back in and be quiet about it, you have to. All right?"

        "Woohoo!" Zane called, running ahead of them down the steps into the courtyard. "Come on, you guys. Adventure and really wild stuff awaits!"

        Harry and Titus Hardcastle were standing outside Hagrid's cabin with their wands lit by the time the three boys arrived.

        "Thanks for coming, Ted," Harry said, his face stoic. "And Zane, as well, who I hadn't exactly expected."

        "I asked him to come, Harry," Ted said, effecting a grave expression. "He's new, but he's sharp. I thought he might be of service, depending on what you're planning." Ted studied Zane critically. Zane wiped the grin off his face and attempted to look serious, without much success. Harry studied them both.

        "Mainly, we just need eyes. Since Zane has as many of those as the rest of us, I guess he's qualified. Let's just hope Minerva doesn't find out I took another first year into the forest or she'll bloody well figure out a way to give us all detention. James hasn't told you what we're doing here tonight?"

Ted shook his head. "Nary a word. Just said it was top-secret, hush-hush stuff."

Harry slid an eye toward James. "The Headmistress told you not to say anything, my boy."

        "I didn't!" James protested, shooting a look at Ted. "I just said I wasn't allowed to tell anyone what we were doing!"

"Best way to get people suspicious, James, is to tell them not to ask." But Harry didn't seem angry. In fact, he seemed a little amused. "No matter, though. We'll be done and back to the castle before your Gremlin friends mount any kind of reconnaissance. Right, Ted?"

        "They're probably tucked into their beds even as we speak, Godfather," Ted said primly. Harry rolled his eyes.

        James became aware of a dull rumbling underfoot. Moments later, he heard the distant barking of Trife, Hagrid's bullmastiff, who had long since succeeded his beloved boarhound, Fang. Everyone present turned toward the woods as the rumbling underfoot became a rhythmic pounding. After a minute, huge shapes loomed in the darkness, lumbering between the trees, their footfalls shaking the ground. Trife bounded in and out of the giants' legs, apparently unfazed by the fact that he'd be squashed to putty if one of them accidentally stepped on him. He barked up at them excitedly, his normally substantial frame dwarfed by the plodding figures. Hagrid followed, occasionally calling at Trife to quiet down, but with no real conviction.

        "Grawp was easy to bring along," Hagrid called, stepping out of the forest. "He always wants to help. Got himself a great big heart o' gold, he does. Gettin' better and better with his words, too. His lady friend, though…" He dropped his voice as he approached Harry, affecting a secretive pose that James thought was about as subtle as a banshee in a matchbox. "She's not quite so used to being around folks as Grawp is. Didn't take too well to being woken up, either. Barely understands a word we say, but it seems best just to keep on talkin' to her as if she does. She'll come along all right, so long as we take it slow with her."

        James reminded himself that this was the same Hagrid who had raised Blast-Ended Skrewts for fun, and persisted in thinking that the primary characteristic of dragons was their cuteness. Any warning from Hagrid about a creature's temperament, therefore, was definitely worth hearing. Everyone turned to greet the giants as they emerged from the trees. Grawp came first, blinking and smiling in the wand-light. He waved a piano-sized hand at Harry.

        "Hullo, Harry," Grawp's voice was deep and slow. James had the impression that making words wasn't quite what it had been designed for. "How Herm-ay-nown… Her-mime-nin…"

        Harry tried to save Grawp the effort. "Hermione is fine, Grawp. She would say hello if she had known I'd be seeing you."

This seemed to be more than Grawp could quite wrap his mind around. "Hullo, Herme

nimminie…" He continued working through Hermione's name as the she-giant emerged tentatively from the forest behind him. James craned his neck, feeling an involuntary thrill of fear course down his spine. The she-giant was so tall that she had to push the canopy of the trees apart as she stepped out of the forest, cracking and snapping branches. The wand-light only reached her chest, which was roughly about the same height as Grawp's head. Her head was merely a shadowed shape moving above the treetops, outlined against the starry sky. She moved slower than Grawp, ponderously, her great feet coming down to the ground like falling millstones, shaking leaves from the nearby trees with each step.

        "So much for stealth," Hardcastle commented, staring up at the monstrous figure.

        "Harry, Titus, James, Zane, and Ted," Hagrid called out very slowly, "meet Prechka. Prechka, these are friends."

        Prechka bent down slightly so that her head hovered over Grawp's shoulder. She made a low, interrogative grunt that James thought actually rattled the windows in Hagrid's cottage. Harry raised his lit wand over his head and smiled. "Prechka, Grawp, thank you both for coming and helping us. We won't keep you long, I hope. Hagrid has explained what we are asking you to do tonight, has he?"

        Grawp gathered himself to speak. "Harry look for sneaking man. Grawp and Prechka help."

        "Excellent," Harry said, turning to address the group. "Hagrid, you take Trife and get him on the scent from the path. See if he can pick up anything leading off the trail into the forest or around the lake. If so, send up a red signal. Ted, you'll be with me and Prechka in the forest. Zane, James, you'll both join Titus and Grawp searching the perimeter of the lake. We're searching for a back trail as much as we're looking for the intruder himself, so watch for broken branches, disturbed undergrowth and ground leaves, and anything human-related, such as bits of cloth, trash, papers, or anything of that nature. Everyone clear?"

        "Who're we looking for, Harry?" Ted asked.

        Harry was already approaching Prechka slowly. "We'll know that when we find him, won't we?"

8.The Grotto Keep

        Zane, James, and Hardcastle climbed onto Grawp's back as the giant squatted down. James and Zane both clambered onto a shoulder, gripping Grawp's ragged shirt for support. Hardcastle, apparently oblivious to how ridiculous it might look, straddled the back of Grawp's neck like a kid being carried by his dad. He held his lit wand up and out, spreading a halo of light onto the ground around them, and then directed Grawp toward the lake. As they left, Harry and Ted were still working out the best method to get onto Prechka's shoulders.

        "Do we need a ladder, you think?" Ted called.

"Get her to bend all the way over, with her hands on the ground," Harry called, waving up to the she-giant, who had kneeled, but become distracted by Hagrid's garden. She pulled up a handful of pumpkins, roots and all, and began stuffing them into her mouth.

        "That's right, that's right," Hagrid called soothingly. "Just lean over here a bit. There we go. Oh!"

        There was a sharp wooden crunch as Prechka leaned on Hagrid's wagon, crushing it to kindling.

        Hagrid patted the gigantic elbow, shaking his head. "Oy, at least yeh can climb up now, Harry. Just use the wall there as a step. There yeh go."

        Prechka was being coaxed upright again, Harry and Ted perched on her shoulders, when Grawp entered the woods lining the west side of the lake and all view of the Hogwarts grounds vanished behind dense, stunted trees.

        Grawp was surprisingly gentle, turning sideways and ducking to avoid branches that might knock his cargo off his back. James could feel the weight of Grawp's footsteps pressing into the ground far below, but experienced none of the shudder and thump he had expected to feel riding on a giant's back. Hardcastle directed Grawp quietly, being seated almost right next to the giant's ear. He led them in an orderly zigzag, approaching the lake, and then turning back into the thick of the wood again, slowly advancing around the perimeter. Their progress was slow and the motion of Grawp's walking began to rock James into sleepiness. He shook himself awake, studying the ground below for any of the signs his dad had described. In an attempt to keep himself awake, he explained to Hardcastle and Zane how he had seen the unidentified man on the Quidditch pitch. He told them about the camera, and described the other two times he'd seen the man on the grounds.

        "You've seen this person three times, then?" Hardcastle asked, his voice a gravelly monotone.

        "Yeah," James nodded.

        "But apart from your dad tonight, no one else has seen him at all?"

        James felt rankled by that, but answered directly. "No. Nobody."

        They were silent again for a while. James guessed that they had travelled approximately a third of the way around the perimeter. He saw glimpses of the castle looming over the lake whenever they neared its edge. The woods seemed annoyingly untouched and normal. Crickets buzzed and creaked, filling the night air with their strange chorus. Everywhere James looked, fireflies stitched the shadows, going about their nocturnal business. There was no sign that anyone had ever been through this wood, much less anyone recently.

"Stop, Grawp," Hardcastle said suddenly, his voice tense. Grawp stopped obediently and stood still. His massive head turned slightly as he looked around. James peered around Grawp's enormous, dirty ear, trying to see what Hardcastle was looking at or listening for. Half a minute crept by. James knew not to speak. Then, in the near distance, there was a harsh scurrying sound. Something scrambled, unseen, through the fallen leaves and stopped again. A branch creaked, as if it were being stepped on. James' heart was suddenly pounding. Still, neither Grawp nor Hardcastle moved. James saw Hardcastle turn his head slightly, trying to pinpoint the direction of the sound.

        It came again, nearer this time, but still unseen. It was ahead of them, behind a low rise on the woods side of their path. James couldn't help thinking that there was something distinctly inhuman about the scurrying sound. It was, somehow, too busy. The hair at the base of his neck prickled.

        Hardcastle tapped the back of Grawp's head lightly and pointed toward the ground, reaching so Grawp could see his hand. James felt the giant lower, and was surprised again at the slow grace of the motion. The leaves underfoot crackled only slightly as Grawp put his hands on the ground. Hardcastle slid silently off Grawp's back. His eyes were locked on the low rise ahead.

        "Stay with–"

        He was interrupted by the noise of scrambling movement. It was much closer this time, and now James saw the motion of it. Dead leaves scattered into the air as a large, shadowy form scuttled over the rise, moving with horrible speed. It darted in and out of the trunks of the trees, crashing through bushes. It seemed to have far too many legs, and there was a strange bluish glow emanating from its front. It flickered wildly as the thing moved. Hardcastle leaped in front of Grawp as the thing approached. He flicked his wand with the practiced economy of a trained Auror, sending red Stunning Spells into the thrashing brush and leaves. The creature changed course, skirting around them and into a gully. The flickering blue glow marked its progress as it skittered over dead logs, retreating deeper into the wood.

        "Stay with Grawp, you two," Hardcastle growled, setting off after the creature at a run. "Grawp, if anything other than me comes back, crush it." He moved with amazing agility for his size. Within fifteen seconds, neither he nor the retreating creature could be seen or heard. The two boys jumped off Grawp's shoulders to peer down into the gully.

        "What was that?" Zane asked breathlessly.

        James shook his head. "I'm not even sure I want to know. It definitely wasn't the guy we're looking for."

        "I'm glad of that," Zane said with conviction.

        They watched the gully that Hardcastle and the creature had vanished into. The incessant chorus of crickets and the flashing of the fireflies filled the woods again, seeming to deny that anything unusual was happening. There was no noise or movement from the gully.

        "How far will he chase that thing?" Zane finally asked.

        James shrugged. "Until he catches it, I guess."

        "Or it catches him," Zane added, shuddering. "You know, I felt a lot better about this when we were up on the big guy's shoulders."

        "Good idea," James agreed, turning. "Hey, Grawp, how about–"

        He stopped. Grawp was gone. Zane and James glanced around for several seconds, both too stunned and spooked to say anything. "There!" Zane said suddenly, stabbing a finger in the direction of the lake. James looked. Grawp was just disappearing around a gigantic, moss-bearded boulder, lumbering slowly. "Come on! Don't let him get out of sight!"

        Both boys scampered after the giant, crawling over huge fallen trees and slipping on leaf-covered rocks. They rounded the house-sized boulder they had seen Grawp pass. Grawp was even further away, ducking under a leaning, dead tree.

        "Where's he going?" Zane cried exasperatedly.

        "Grawp!" James called, hesitant to yell too loudly for fear of attracting any more of the horrible, scuttling creatures. The night had gone dim. Heavy, marching clouds obscured the moon, reducing the woods to a muddle of grey shadows. "Grawp, come back! What are you doing?"

        For several minutes, Zane and James followed Grawp's trail, struggling through creek beds and over tree trunks that the giant traversed in one step. Finally, they caught up to him near the edge of the lake, where a group of small, wooded islands obscured the view across the water. The air smelled damp and mossy and was dense with buzzing insects. Grawp stood under a gnarled tree, methodically plucking walnuts off the branches and popping them into his mouth, shell and all. He crunched them audibly as the boys approached, panting.

        "Grawp!" Zane cried, struggling to catch his breath. "What're you doing?"

        Grawp glanced down at the sound of Zane's voice, his expression quizzical. "Grawp hungry," he answered. "Grawp smell food. Grawp eat and wait. Little man comes back."

        "Grawp, we're lost now! Titus won't even know where we are!" James said, trying to control his anger. Grawp stared at him, still crunching walnuts, his expression one of mild bewilderment.

        "Never mind," Zane said. "Let him chomp some nuts, then we'll get him to carry us back the way we came." He plopped onto a nearby rock and examined the scrapes and bruises he'd gotten during the chase. James grimaced in annoyance. He knew there was no point in arguing with the giant.

        "All right," he said tersely. "Grawp, just carry us back when you're done. Got it?"

        Grawp grunted agreement, pulling one of the larger tree branches down to him so that it creaked ominously.

James wandered disconsolately toward the water's edge, pushing reeds and bushes aside. The lake looked more like a creek here, with only a narrow stretch of mossy water between the shore and one of the marshy islands. The island was wild, covered with densely packed bushes and trees. It had the look of a place that was underwater at least part of the year. Twenty feet away, a group of trees had fallen away from the island. James assumed they'd been pried loose from their watery roots by a recent storm. The scene was remarkably ugly and foreboding in the shadowy night.

        James had just decided to turn back, worried that Hardcastle would be looking for them, when the moon came out. As the silvery light spread across the woods, James stopped, a slow, gravid chill shaking him from head to toe. The crickets had fallen suddenly and completely silent. James felt rooted to the spot, frozen except for his eyes, which roamed the surrounding woods. The silence of the crickets wasn't the only change. The perpetual, myriad flashes of the fireflies had also ceased. The wood had gone completely and suddenly still in the wash of moonlight.

        "James?" Zane's voice came, tentative in the sudden, oppressive silence. "Is this… you know… normal?" He joined James at the edge of the lake. "And what's the deal with that place?"

        James glanced at Zane. "What place?" He followed Zane's eyes, and then gasped.

        The island that lay just off the shore had changed. James could tell that no individual part of it was different, exactly. It was just that, what had appeared as totally random trees and bushes a minute before, now, in the silvery moonlight, looked much more like a hidden, ancient structure. There was the unmistakable suggestion of pillars and gates, buttresses and gargoyles, all crafted out of the island's natural growth as if it were a sort of incredibly complex optical illusion.

        "I do not like the look of that joint," Zane said emphatically, his voice low.

        James looked further. The group of trees that had fallen across the water, connecting the island to the shore, had changed as well. James could see that there was order to them. Two of them had fallen together so that they formed what was obviously a bridge. The bridge was even stylized, fashioned to resemble a gigantic dragon's head. A brown rock jutting from the upturned roots served as the eye. Two more trees, only half collapsed, formed the open upper jaw, jutting out over the bridge as if to snap down on anyone that attempted to cross.

        James walked carefully toward the bridge.

        "Hey, you're not going in there, are you?" Zane called. "That doesn't look so healthy to me."

        "Come on," James said, not looking back. "You said you wanted adventure and really wild stuff."

        "Well, actually I think I just want those things in little bitty doses. I had enough with that crazy monster we saw already, if you don't mind."

James skirted an outcropping of bushes and spindly trees and found himself standing at the mouth of the bridge. Closer to, it was even more perfect. There were handrails formed by fallen birches, smooth and easy to grip, and the two trees that formed the floor of the bridge were so close together, with vines and leaves packed between them, that they made an easy walking surface.

        "Fine, stay here," James said, not really blaming Zane for his reluctance. The mystery of it was strangely attractive to James, though. He stepped onto the bridge.

        "Ahh, sheesh," Zane moaned, following.

        On the island side of the bridge, a complicated growth of vines and small trees had formed into a set of tall, ornate gates. Beyond them was impenetrable shadow. As James crept closer, he could see that the vines formed a recognizable pattern across the gates.

        "I think it spells something," he said, his voice almost a whisper. "Look. It's a poem, or a rune or something."

        As soon as he was able to make out the first word, the rest sprang into view, as if he'd just had to train his eye to see it. He stopped and read aloud:

When by the light of Sulva bright

I found the Grotto Keep;

Before the night of time requite

Did wake his languid sleep.

Upon return the fretted dawn

With not a relic lossing;

Bygone a life, a new eon,

The Hall of Elders' Crossing.

        Something about the poem made James shudder.

        "What's it mean?" Zane asked when he'd read it over twice.

        James shrugged. "Sulva is an old word for 'moon'. I know that. I think the first part just means you can only find this place when the moon shines on it. That's got to be true, because when I first saw it in the dark, it just looked like some ugly old island. So this must be the Grotto Keep, whatever that is."

Zane leaned in. "What about this part? 'Upon return the fretted dawn'. Sounds like we're supposed to come back when the sun comes back up, eh? Sounds pretty good to me."

        Ignoring Zane, James wrapped his hands around the gates and gave them a hard yank. They rattled woodenly, but didn't budge. The action seemed to trigger a response from the island. A sudden, creeping sound came from beneath the boys' feet. James glanced down, and then jumped backwards as tendrils of thorny vines grew up from underneath the bridge. The vines twined through the gate, weaving up it with a noise like a newspaper in a fire. The thorns were an ugly purple color, as if they might contain some sort of venom. They grew longer as James watched. After a minute, the gates were completely entwined with them, obscuring the words of the poem. The noise of their growth died away.

        "Well, that settles that, then," Zane said in a strangely high voice. He was standing behind James, backing away slowly. "I think this place wants to be left alone, don't you?"

        "I want to try one more thing," James said, pulling his wand out from beneath his cloak. Without really thinking about it, he aimed his wand at the gate. "Alohomora."

        There was a streak of golden light, and this time, the result was immediate and powerful. The gates repelled the spell, obliterating it in a burst of sparks, and the entire island seemed to shiver, to tense menacingly. There was a sound like a thousand people suddenly breathing in, and then a voice, an entirely inhuman, swarming sort of voice, spoke.

        "Get… Thee… Hence!"

         James stumbled backwards at the vehemence of the response, tumbling into Zane and knocking them both to the floor of the bridge. The bridge shuddered beneath them, and then James saw that the gates were swaying, leaning over them. The trees overhead, the ones that were fashioned to appear as the upper jaw of the dragon's head bridge, were creaking down, looming, their broken branches looking more and more like teeth.

        "Get… Thee… Hence!" the island said again. The voice sounded like it was comprised of millions of tiny voices, whispering and raspy, speaking in unison.

        The floor of the bridge buckled, tearing loose of the shore. The upper jaws crackled and began to collapse, ready to devour the two boys. They scrambled backwards, tumbling wildly over each other, and fell onto the weedy shore just as the bridge ripped loose. The gigantic jaws snapped and gnashed ferociously. Broken branches and bits of bark exploded from the writhing shape, peppering James and Zane as they scuttled away, their hands slipping on dead leaves and pine needles.

The ground rumbled under them. Roots began to burrow up from the dirt, tearing the earth apart. James felt the shore disintegrate beneath him. His foot slipped into a sudden hole and he yanked it out, narrowly avoiding a dirty, carrot-like root that writhed up out of it. He struggled for purchase on the collapsing shore, but it sank beneath him, dragging him back toward the water's edge. The surface of the lake roiled, rushing into the forming sinkhole. The boys' feet splashed into the muck, and it sucked at them, pulling them in. Zane grasped at the shore as he was pulled slowly into the frothing water. James groped for purchase, but nothing seemed solid. Even the tree roots revealed by the crumbling earth grew loose and slippery under his hands, covered in a horrible slime that came off in coats.

        Then, suddenly, there was Grawp. He dropped to his knees, gripping a nearby tree trunk with one hand and reaching for Zane, who was nearer, with the other. He plucked the boy from the murk and plopped him onto his shoulder. Zane grasped for a handhold on Grawp's shirt as the giant lunged down to retrieve James, who was nearly submerged in the thrashing waters. A horrible, hairy root snaked across the water and curled around James' ankle, yanking him back. He hung there, caught between Grawp's grip and that of the horrid root, and James was sure he'd be torn in half by the force of it. The root slipped on his pant leg and yanked his shoe off. James saw it twine hungrily around the shoe and pull it under the surface.

        Grawp tried to stand, but roots were ripping up from the ground all around him. Huge, crackling wood tentacles twined his legs. Green vines grew with lightning speed up the thicker tentacles, sewing themselves into the fabric of his pants with tiny, threadlike roots. Grawp roared and yanked, ripping his pants and tearing the roots further out of the ground, but their combined force was too strong. They pulled him back to a kneeling position, and then lunged up, circling his waist, climbing his back and shoulders. The vines battened onto James and Zane, threatening to pull them off. Grawp roared again as one of the green vines twisted around his neck, forcing him lower, pulling him down into the sinkhole.

        Just as James began to slip off Grawp's shoulder, pulled back toward the ground by a dozen muscling vines, sudden, shocking light filled the air. It was a vibrant golden green, and it was accompanied by a low humming sound. The vines and roots recoiled from the light. They loosened, repulsed by it, but were dreadfully reluctant to abandon their prey. Waves of the light washed over them, and each wave loosened the tangling mass until the smaller vines fell away as dead and the larger roots retreated, sucking back down into the earth with a nasty, gurgling noise.

        Grawp, James, and Zane half fell, half crawled up the bank until they found firm ground. There they collapsed, panting and heaving, amid the dead leaves and broken branches.

        When James rolled over and pulled himself to a kneeling position, there was a figure standing nearby, glowing faintly with the same golden green light that had repulsed the vines. James could see through the figure, although what he saw through it was both brightened and refracted, the way things might look if seen through a raindrop. The figure looked like a woman, very tall and very thin, in a dark green gown that fell straight from her hips and, apparently, right through the ground. Her whitish-green hair spread and flowed around her head like a corona. She was beautiful, but her face was grave.

        "James Potter, Zane Walker, Grawp, son of the earth, you are in danger here. You must leave this wood. No human is safe under this canopy now."

        James struggled to his feet. "Who are you? What was that?"

"I am a dryad, a spirit of the wood. I have managed to silence the Voice of the Island, but I won't be able to hold it back for long. It grows more restless with each day."

        "A spirit of the wood?" Zane asked as Grawp helped him rather roughly to his feet. "The woods have a ghost?"

        "I am a dryad, a tree sprite, a spirit of a single tree. All the trees in the wood have spirits, but they have been asleep for ages and ages, seeped down into the earth, almost diminished. Until now. The naiads and dryads have been awakened, though we know not why. Those few humans that once communed with the trees are gone and forgotten. Our time is past. Yet we are summoned."

        "Who summoned you?" James asked.

        "We have not been able to know that, despite our greatest efforts. There is disharmony among us. Many trees remember only the saw of man, not his replanting. They are old and angry, wishing only to do harm to the world of men. They have gone over. You have experienced their wrath, though not as they would have it."

        "What do you mean they've 'gone over'?" Zane asked, taking half a step closer, squinting at the dryad's beauty. "Is it that place? The island? The… the Hall of Elder's Crossing?"

        "Man's time is short on the earth, but we trees watch the years march past like days. The stars are motionless to you, but we watch and study the heavens as a dance," the dryad said, her voice becoming soft, almost dreamy. "Since our awakening, the dance of the stars has become dire, showing a thousand dark destinies for the world of men, all swinging on the balance of the coming days. Only one possible destiny bears good. The rest are heavy with bloodshed and loss. Great sorrow. Dark times, full of war and greed, powerful tyrants, famines of terror. Much will be determined within the closing of this cycle. We tree folk can only watch, for now, but those of us who remain faithful to the memory of harmony between our world and the world of men, when the time comes, we will help as we can."

        James was almost hypnotized by the dryad's voice, but he felt a rising sense of helplessness and frustration at her words. "But you said there is one chance we can avoid this war. What can we do? How can we make the one good destiny happen?"

        The dryad's face softened. Her large, liquid eyes smiled sadly. "There is no way to predict the path of a single action. It could be that you are already doing that which will bring about peace. It could also be that the very things you do to for good are the things that will result in war. You must do what you know to do, but only with an unclouded mind."

        Zane risked a derisive laugh. "Helpful stuff, there, Sensei."

        "There are greater dangers in the fabric of destinies than you yet know, James Potter," the dryad said, slipping closer to James so that her light played across his face. "The enemy of your father, and of all who know love, is dead. But his blood beats within a different heart. The blood of your greatest enemy lives still."