“Don’t worry,” Eric said. “Those elven horse-bikes are mostly friendly. I think that one has an awful sense of humor, though.” He played another scale, then tucked the flute under his arm, rubbing his hands together briskly.
“Is something wrong?” Kayla asked, concerned.
“It’s just cold out here. My fingers are stiff.” He lifted the flute again and played a run of arpeggios. “That’s better.” He began playing “Banysh Mysfortune,” slowly at first, then building in speed and intensity, concentrating on the thought: I’m invisible, I’m unseen, I’m the wisp of melody that drifts past, unnoticed. After playing through the A, B, and C parts twice, he ended the tune and looked over at Kayla curiously. “So, did anything happen?”
She couldn’t quite meet his eyes. “Oh, yeah. You’re still there, but I can’t look at you, not really. It’s like my eyes keep sliding off of you, it’s very hard to keep trying to look at you. I think it’ll work.”
“Good.” He ran through the melody again, this time focusing his thoughts on Kayla. When he finished, it was exactly as she had described… he could see her, but she was very difficult to look at. Not bad. Maybe I’m starting to get the hang of this whole magic business. “Let’s walk in, calmly and quietly,” he said. “No hurry at all. Just stroll past the guards and into the building.”
“I’m with you, Bard.” She grinned at him. “How ‘bout going for beer and pizza after this?”
“Aren’t you a little young to drink?”
She shrugged. “Alcohol can’t do anything for me. I just like the taste of beer. Don’t you?”
He sighed, and they started down the road toward the gate. As he had hoped, the man at the gate barely glanced at them, They received an identical lack of response from the receptionist in the lobby, and walked past what looked like a military SWAT team…
A SWAT team!, Eric’s mind screamed silently, but he kept walking.
Dr. Susan’s directions had been very specific: take the stairs to the third level, walk down the corridor to the stairway connecting to the lower levels, continue down to the bottom level, turn left onto the main corridor, follow that to the end, turn right, then go into the fourth door on the right.
The third level was deserted, not even a security guard in sight. They continued down to the last level and were halfway down the main corridor when Kayla stopped him, her hand on his arm. “Something’s wrong,” she whispered. “There’s someone ... oh shit, it’s Susan!” She vaulted into a run, and Eric ran after her. He turned the corner a split-second after she had, and stopped short at the sight of a tall man in a military uniform, carrying a bloody and unconscious Dr. Susan Sheffield.
Too many things happened at once: the man dropped Susan onto the floor, reaching for the pistol holstered at his side; Kayla screamed something incoherent and leaped at him; Eric desperately whistled a single shrill note—the noise of the magic and gunshot blended together. The Bardic magic caught the man and lifted him off his feet to slam against the wall, as if hit by a giant fist, He landed in an unconscious heap next to Susan.
Gunshot… he missed me, did he hit… ?
Kayla staggered backwards against him. He caught her; his flute clattered on the floor. He saw the bullet hole in her leather jacket, and felt the warmth of her blood, dripping down her back and onto his arm. She coughed suddenly, bright red blood running down her chin.
“Oh my God, kid…“
“Bastard ... got a lung Kayla whispered, so faint that he could barely hear her. He could hear a strange whistling noise as she breathed. “Set me down next to Susan ... need to be close enough to touch her…“
“No! Kayla, heal yourself first!”
“I’ve got ... a few seconds… she doesn’t… do it, Eric!”
He carefully set her down next to Susan’s unconscious body. She rested her hand on Susan’s shoulder, closing her eyes. Eric felt the magic in the air, as blue lines coiled and twisted over Kayla’s outstretched hand. He held her other hand, her blood slick against his palm, watching her face furrowed in concentration.
Suddenly, the blue light faded.
Eric reached desperately with his own magical senses. Susan was still alive; he could see the magical light that was her life, growing brighter and brighter. But Kayla… he couldn’t find her at first, even though he knew he was still holding her hand. She had poured all her energy into saving Susan, leaving none for herself…
Wait a minute!
He caught a pale thread, held onto it. Fed it with his own magic, until Kayla moved against him, struggling feebly. Then he poured everything he could into her, giving her the power she needed to heal herself. The world dimmed around him, and he knew he was dangerously close to pouring all of his own life force into Kayla, exactly what she had done to Susan.
Kayla’s hand tightened around his own. He opened his eyes and looked at her, to see a faint smile on her face. “We ... we aren’t doing so great today, are we, Bard?” she whispered.
“Yeah, I know,” he whispered back.
“You’re doing worse than you think,” a man’s voice said from behind him. Eric turned quickly, to see three drawn pistols aimed at him. Though he had never met Warden Blair, he recognized that cold smile from Beth’s memories.
“Oh, hell,” Eric said, wondering how fast he could call his Bardic magic. Before he could even pucker his lips to whistle, a pistol barrel caught him on the side of the face, and the world exploded into darkness.
He awakened to an aching headache, and a feeling like his arms were being pulled out of their sockets. When he tried to move, he realized why: his arms were handcuffed behind him. He opened his eyes, wondering why he was still alive.
Kayla was lying on the floor near him, also handcuffed. And Susan, on the other side of the room, apparently still unconscious. They were in a room that Eric remembered from Susan’s descriptions:the laboratory that contained the Poseidon computers. Two business-suited young men stood near the door, watching him intently. He saw the handguns stuck into their waistbands, and decided against trying to leap at them with his hands cuffed behind his back. Probably the world’s stupidest idea. Then again, coming here with just Kayla now seemed like the world’s stupidest idea, too.
He whispered Kayla’s name, and was rewarded by seeing her eyes open, then slowly focus on him. She was very pale, blood still smeared across her face. “Eric? You okay?”
“Yeah, I think so. Just an awful headache, and everything’s a little blurry. You?”
“I’m okay. Susan…” He saw tears begin to roll down her cheeks, mixing with the drying blood. “That bastard shot Susan in the spine. I saved her life, but even if we make it out of here, she’ll be paralyzed.”
“Keep quiet, both of you,” one of their guards said roughly.
Okay, so we will. He fought against the exhaustion that threatened to overwhelm him, and whispered to her in that silent speech that Kory had taught him.
:Kayla, can you hear me?:
She twitched visibly, then nodded.
:How long was I out?: he asked.
A moment later, he heard her voice answer silently to him. :Maybe an hour, hour and a half I don’t know. I’ve been mostly out of it until just a few minutes ago… I feel weak as a kitten right now… : A pause, then she continued. :You saved my life, Eric. I could feel everything slipping away, it was like I was drowning, sliding under the surface, and then you pulled me back.:
:Hey, no problem,: he answered. :Let’s concentrate on getting out of here, now. Susan needs a hospital, and you don’t look so great yourself Is there anything else I need to know before I bust us out of here?:
She nodded slightly. :Blair was in here a few minutes ago, doing something with the computers. He left with that military guy, the one who shot me. I pretended like I was out cold. When they left, I looked through the door… I don’t think there are any other guards except for these two guys.:
:Good. I’ll see what I can do to these guys, then we’ll trash t
he place and leave.:Eric sat up, looking closely at the two men near the door. A simple Irish melody to make them sleepy, like “My Darling Asleep”—that might do the trick—
He held back another wave of exhaustion that threatened to drag him under, and whistled the first couple measures, watching the two men closely to see if there was any effect. If they were Nightflyer-possessed, like Warden Blair, his magic might not have any effect on them.
One of the men yawned. Eric continued the melody, not pausing until both men were slumped against the wall, one of them snoring loudly.
He stood up unsteadily, realizing for the first time how much he usually used his hands for balance, and headed to the two men. Fumbling in their pockets with his hands handcuffed behind him was awkward, but he found what he was hoping for—the handcuff key. He managed to unlock his own cuffs, then unfastened Kayla’s and Susan’s. Susan didn’t move at all when he removed the cuffs; she looked awful, very pale and breathing shallowly. As Kayla sat up and rubbed her wrists, Eric crossed to the computer console and cursed quietly.
“What’s wrong?” Kayla asked, moving to stand behind him.
“I think Blair already triggered the quake, when he was in here before. It says that the energy level is rising several percent points a second. We can stop it from getting worse, but the fault is already getting ready to blow. Damn!” Eric looked around for something handy, and picked up a metal box, some kind of weird machinery with a broken green glass screen, that was lying on the floor. As he was about to swing it into the computer console, he heard Susan Sheffield’s voice. “Eric, wait…“
He turned to see her trying to sit up, and giving up a moment later to lie helplessly on the floor. “Help me up,” she said. “I’ll stop the program.”
Eric and Kayla exchanged a glance, then together they lifted her. Kayla winced and Eric saw the blood drain from her face, but she didn’t say anything about her own pain. Together, they moved Susan to the computer console, holding her up so she could use the keyboard. She typed several commands quickly, watching the screen intently, then nodded. “Okay. It’s done.”
They lowered her back to the floor; she lay there for a moment before speaking, pain fighting with terror on her face. “It reached sixty-five per cent before I crashed the program,” she said weakly. “That’s a very bad earthquake, I don’t know exactly how bad. The resonance will take thirty minutes to build, maybe a few minutes more than that, depending on how well he aimed the probes, and then it’ll release the faultline.” She pointed at a small cardboard box on one of the shelves. “Eric, get that for me.”
“Susan, are you… ?“
“I’m okay. Just do this, quickly.”
He took it down from the shelf and opened the box. Inside was a small electronic device with a crude switch built into it, something he didn’t recognize, and a computer disk.
“Put the disk in that computer and type GOODBYE, please. Now the electromagnet—walk over to that wall that has the tape backups and switch it on. If you move it next to every box of tape, that’ll erase everything.” She managed a smile as Eric followed her instructions. “Welcome to the wonderful world of computer destruction, kids. That disk had a specialized worm virus on it that’ll keep the main computers down for hours, and it’ll destroy all the pertinent data about my project. And you’re wiping clean all of our data backups. Blair won’t be able to do anything with the system for quite a while.” She frowned. “I programmed that virus in case the military decided to play games with the project. I never thought I’d ever actually use it.”
“Good planning, though,” Kayla murmured.
Susan nodded, closing her eyes. Kayla knelt painfully next to her, placing one hand on her shoulder. After a moment, she looked up at Eric.
“We can’t move her again. I don’t know how bad the neurological damage is, but moving her again could kill her.”
“Can’t you—” He gestured helplessly. “Can’t you just heal the damage?”
Kayla shook her head. “All I do is convince the cells to heal themselves faster. Nerve cells won’t regenerate that way.”
“You—you’d better get out of here,” Susan whispered. “The quake’s coming—you don’t have much time—leave me here, just go—”
“Susan, we can’t!” Kayla protested.
“Please—don’t die because of me—”
“Come on, Kayla.” Eric took her by the arm, moving toward the door. “She’s right. We can’t do anything for her, not now.” He opened the door, and stopped short.
A familiar-looking man in a military uniform, with a familiar-looking .45 automatic handgun in his hand, stared back at him.
Eric shut the door.
Thinking quickly, he grabbed the broken machine on the floor, turning with it just as the man kicked the door open. Eric didn’t hesitate. Ten pounds of high-tech metal crashed into the man’s face. The gun dropped to the floor; Kayla retrieved it before the man could recover. She held it aimed at his chest as he straightened slowly, wiping the blood from his nose.
“Okay, slimeball,” Kayla said, clicking the safety off the pistol. “Start talking.”
He only stared at her blankly.
Eric hoped the man couldn’t see what he so clearly could—Kayla’s bravado was skin-deep. She could barely hold onto the gun, and he wasn’t certain whether she could fire it, either. If he makes a break for it, she’d better shoot him, Eric thought, ‘cause I’m sure as hell not going to be able to wrestle this guy down to the ground. And I don’t think she’ll be able to shoot him. He felt the bruise swelling on the side of his face, and distantly wondered whether he had a concussion. Then he decided it didn’t matter, not with the world about to crash down around them sometime in the next half hour.
No… the next twenty-five minutes, now.
The man was still standing, not speaking.
Eric saw it first, before Kayla did. “He has Nightflyer eyes,” he said aloud, wondering what they could do with the man now.
“Please—don’t kill him—” Susan’s voice was weaker. “He was a friend of mine, once.”
Eric thought about it, how he would summon a Nightflyer out of some one’s body, instead of from—from wherever it was that Nightflyers came from.
“Whatever you’re going to do, Eric,” Kayla said, not wavering the aim of the pistol, “get moving with it. The clock is ticking, remember?”
“Right.” He saw where someone had kicked his flute underneath one of the computers, and picked ft up quicldy. He began playing the first notes of the solo from “Danse Macabre,” focusing on what lurked behind the man’s pale blue eyes.
Something materialized between them—a thin shadow, smaller and less opaque than any of the other Nightflyers he had seen. A baby Nightflyer, he realized with a start. Without missing a beat, he slid into the A part from “Banysh Mysfortune,” and the Nightflyer faded from view.
The man blinked, then stared at Eric. His pale blue eyes suddenly filled with tears. He walked past Kayla, completely ignoring the pistol in her hands, and knelt next to Susan. “Susan, I’m sorry, oh God, I’m so sorry…“
Kayla glanced at Eric, the pistol still clenched in her hand, obviously uncertain what to do. Eric gave her an “Okay” handsign. “He’s okay now. I’m sure of it.”
Susan’s voice was very thin, strained. “Steve, you have to get out of here. This whole place could collapse in a few minutes…“
“Then I’m taking you with me.” His voice was firm. For a moment, Eric saw what kind of man Steve used to be, before his own nightmare of the Nightflyers had begun.
“No, you can’t move her, she’s—” Kayla began.
“I’ve decided I don’t want to die down here,” Susan whispered, closing her eyes. “Take me out into the sunlight, Steve.”
“We’ll have to go out by one of the emergency exits,” Steve said. “There’s a major firefight going on in the upper levels—some crazy people dressed in medieval armor shooting it out with secur
ity.”
“That sounds like the rest of our team,” Kayla said. “Where did you say they were right now?”
“Upstairs, level three. But you can’t—” He glanced down at the .45 automatic in Kayla’s hand. “Then again, maybe you can,” he said.
“Get Susan out of here,” Eric said. “She needs immediate medical attention. Spine injury.”
The military man looked around the laboratory, then took a metal cart covered with research material, shoving the papers and books onto the floor, and then with Eric’s help carefully lifted Susan onto it. “Good luck,” he said to Eric and Kayla.
Susan whispered a goodbye as they left the room.
“Good luck is right,” Kayla said, turning to Eric. “What in the hell are we going to do against an army of security officers? How much time do we have left, anyhow?”
“God knows. Maybe twenty minutes.” He thought about it quickly. “If we can get to the others, there might be some kind of magic we can do to stop the quake. I don’t know. But we’ll need an army to get to them. And I know where we can get one.”
“Eric—” Kayla’s eyes widened in sudden understanding and horror. “No way. You’re not going to do that again.”
“It’s the only solution I can think of.”
“Eric, if you lose control of them again, we’re all dead!”
He met her eyes squarely. “Kayla, I already have enough deaths on my conscience. I won’t make any mistakes this time. I promise.”
Kayla still looked very uncertain, but she nodded. “All right. I won’t stop you.” She stepped back from him, clicking the safety on the pistol and shoving it into her waistband.
He brought the flute to his lips, and began to play the classic melody that he now privately thought of as the “Yo, Nightflyers, want to come hang out over here?” tune. “Danse Macabre.”
He felt it starting around him, the whispers of sound, the cold wind touching the back of his neck.
The shadows on the floor lengthened, darkening and rising to surround him. This time, he held onto them tightly, knowing what would happen if he lost control now. They whirled around him, fast-moving shapes that circled and laughed silently.
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