Sacred Ground

by Mercedes Lackey

  But she was on her own.

  She was more frightened now than when she had been struggling to keep from drowning; more frightened than a few hours ago, facing her murderers for a second time. That had only been a physical death that she risked. This was more-the death of all that made her whole.

  She had never, ever, felt so helpless in all of her life.

  What was worse, she watched the Evil One's eyes, and knew that he knew all of this by the sly smile creeping onto his thin lips; knew that he read her every thought, and could play on all her weaknesses and exploit them.

  You have to deal with the enemy inside yourself before you can take on the enemy that faces you. . . .

  Like I have the leisure for a psychological review right now! What should I do, ask him to wait for a minute while I bring in my analyst?

  His smile widened, just a little more, while the bitter wind of his place, called by his power, whipped her hair around her face, stinging her eyes and calling up tears of pain and pure unadulterated fear. He licked his lips, as if he tasted and relished those tears.

  David was not prepared for Calligan to come lunging over the desk; he stepped back, instinctively. That was a mistake; he cleared the way for the man to body-slam Jennie into the wall of filing cabinets opposite the desk.

  Then he reacted, leaping to Jennie's defense, but it was too late; Jennie was out cold, and Calligan was backing away, toward the door. Quickly, he positioned himself between Jennie and Calligan, taking a defensive stance over her prone body. He glanced down briefly, desperate to determine how badly she was hurt, but afraid to take his eyes off Calligan for long.

  But Calligan relaxed, and gifted David with the nastiest smile he'd ever seen. David tensed. If something made Calligan smile, he had a pretty good idea that he wasn't going to like it.

  Then the contractor reached around behind his own back and locked the door of his office.

  "I told Romulus, I told Sleighbow, over and over, that they couldn't trust you savages," he said, pulling a clasp knife from his pocket. "Now-let's see if I can come up with a good story." His eyes focused just past David's shoulder for a moment. "Got it. That primitive little tart must have decided to use you as her way to bring me down." Calligan eyed David as if he were some kind of lower form of life, a bug or a worm. "I can see why; you must make a lot of money as a gigolo. So. First you seduce and steal my wife, then persuade her to file against me; then you use serving those papers on me as an excuse to get in here to try and murder me." He shook his head and tsked. "Barbarians. There isn't a judge and jury in Oklahoma who'd blame me for killing you and your bimbo. Temporary insanity, that's what they'd say."

  Strange, Calligan spoke as if he was reciting something; as if someone were coaching him with a hidden mike. But his eyes were alert enough, so he wasn't on drugs or anything.

  David tensed, his eyes on Calligan's, regretting profoundly that he had left his gun at home and his knives in the car with Mooncrow. But Jennie had sworn that he couldn't risk going armed when he was serving legal papers. And he really hadn't thought that Calligan would try anything stupid in a place as public as his office.

  Calligan handled that knife as if he knew how to use it. A very bad sign.

  Calligan saw his eyes flick briefly to the knife, and his smile widened. "I was a Navy SEAL, did you know that?" he asked conversationally. "They train the SEALs right. Missed 'Nam, though. I always felt kind of cheated. I'd have enjoyed it."

  He circled a little, and made a brief feint to the right. David saw immediately what he was up to; he wanted to get David away from Jennie.

  So instead of moving, he simply pivoted, watching Calligan's eyes, and trying to think if there was anything within reach that he could use for a weapon.

  Kestrel backed up another pace, but she didn't think a simple tactic like that was going to work for much longer. It might look as if she could back up forever across this wasteland, but this was his wasteland, and he could manipulate it in any way he chose. Sooner or later he was going to get tired of this.

  Oh, Ancestor, if only I could call you back to me!

  "Daughter-" said a deep voice just behind her, suddenly; so suddenly that it made her jump. Something materialized at her side, a bright presence in the darkness.

  She glanced to her right, and almost sobbed with relief.

  Another Osage stood beside her, his costume dating from the same ancient days as the Evil One. Like his, all the decorations on it were non-European; shells, quills, claws, teeth-but this man wore proper war-paint, a mussel-shell torque. And like Kestrel, he wore eagle feathers; both the under-tail covert of the Tzi-sho, on the left, and the hard tail-feather of the Hunkah, on the right.

  There was no doubt whatsoever in her mind who this was, not when she sensed an immense power and strength in him, and an enormous confidence.

  "Moh-shon-ah-Jce-ta," she said, with a little nod of respect, and a smile of relief. "Ancestor. You are very welcome here!"

  As she spoke, she moved back and to the side, instinctively placing herself shoulder-to-shoulder with him. He smiled back at her, and some of that power and strength flowed into her, erasing some of her blind terror.

  But when she looked back at their enemy, the Evil One did not seem to be any less confident. He looked Moh-shon-ah-ke-ta up and down, contemptuously. "One, old and brittle," he said with scorn, "and one, green and with no experience. Hardly a challenge at all."

  "So?" Watches-Over-The-Land said mildly. "But you are hardly younger than I."

  Kestrel felt a third presence join her and Moh-shon-ah-ke-ta; a moment later, Mooncrow stood at her left shoulder. He looked very much like Watches-Over-The-Land, except that the decorations on his ritual clothing, like hers, boasted the additions of ribbon- and beadwork.

  The Evil One snorted. "Even three-to-one you cannot defeat me!" he laughed. "You, old fool-" he continued, pointing at Kestrel's Ancestor, "-should have warned them! You had the Little Old Men of all the gentes beside you when you bested me last! You have only these two at your side now! And I-"

  He seemed to loom larger-no, he was growing larger, looming over all three of them!

  "-I have no limits upon my power now!"

  He spread his arms, gathering his power to him, and lightning flickered about his head as he prepared to strike them.

  But Watches-Over-The-Land was not going to stand there and wait for him to act!

  "Follow!" he ordered, and fled.

  Kestrel followed him, as he somehow twisted the very fabric of this place, and escaped from the Evil One's land into another level of the Spirit World.

  Her sight distorted, then cleared; she gasped for a moment, trying to breathe air that was suddenly heavy.

  No, it was not air at all.

  Kestrel found herself wearing the form of a fish, the swift and clever trout, arrowing through the sparkling water of a clear river. Ahead of her was a great salmon, which must be Moh-shon-ah-ke-ta; beside her, a black bass, which was surely Mooncrow.

  The river darkened, as something passed overhead. Kestrel gathered herself and leapt, high-

  The Evil One was there, waiting for her, fishing spear in hand. He had already stretched a net across the river ahead of them! They were trapped!

  He struck at her leaping body; she writhed as she fell, and the head of the spear just skimmed past her sleek flank. This time it was her turn to cry "Follow!" as she fell back into the river and gulped life-giving water, then twisted the fabric of the river and-

  Ran on four hooves across a grassy plain, in the shape of an Appaloosa mare. Her unshod hooves thudded dully beneath her, cushioned by grass that had never seen a blade. This grassland stretched from horizon to horizon, dotted only with a bush or two, with, a hint of thin darkness to the east where there might be trees following a watercourse. Overhead, the sky was a blue bowl, the sun a white-hot disk in the midst of it. Two stallions raced behind her, a Medicine Hat pony, and a tall palomino; and she pulled herself up, not wantin
g to run blindly into a new trap. She stood warily sniffing the wind that whipped her mane and tail, head up, looking for the Evil One. The stallions followed her lead, each facing in a different direction.

  She wondered how the Evil One would counter this shape; there wasn't much that could take on three mustangs and win, not on the plains-

  Then the palomino whinnied sharply, and she and Watches-Over-The-Land pivoted in his direction.

  Fire!

  Fire sprang up in a long line stretching from horizon to horizon, racing toward them, eating its way across the landscape. Kestrel fought her horse-instinct to run in a blind panic, as more fires cut across the horizon, until they were ringed with flame.

  "Follow!" whinnied Mooncrow, and reared, and leapt-

  She followed, and found herself-Fluttering through air that tasted thick and grainy. In bird shape. But not the familiar bird-shape of Kestrel, but black, speckled, stub-tailed.

  A starling? She faltered for a moment, then picked up her wingbeats again, moving easily among the-

  High-rise apartment buildings?

  Fumes drifted up from the traffic below, but they didn't seem to bother her in this shape. Car horns blared, sirens screamed, construction equipment rattled and pounded, and the noise of uncounted engines battered her ears.

  Beside her flapped an English sparrow and a pigeon.

  The air behind them popped. And the Evil One, in his form of Black Bird, hovered there for a moment, confused by the terrific noise.

  That moment was all that Kestrel needed. It was time to stop running and give him a taste of being the prey! Calling a starling alarm, she dove on the Black Bird, certain of what would follow.

  Her alarm call swiftly summoned a cloud of starlings from all directions, which followed her lead and proceeded to mob the Black Bird mercilessly. Individually, the Evil One was more than a match for them-and in fact, he lashed out with beak and claws, and sent several of his tormentors tumbling dead out of the sky. But that only made the rest of the starlings angrier, and they pecked at his head and pulled at his feathers until he began to falter and lose height. And he could not tell which of the starlings was really Kestrel; he could only strike blindly and hope that luck would put her into his reach.

  He could not win this one, and so he changed the setting, shattering the air with a terrible cry that wrenched the fabric of time and space, sending them all hurtling-

  Into the white of a landscape of nothing but snow and ice. Wind ate at her; snow whipped around her, driving itself into her eyes and nose. The sky was white, the ground was an undulating white; everything was white.

  Kestrel shivered, despite the thick coat of fur she wore, encased as she was in the body of an arctic fox; beside her were a white wolf and a snowy owl. She had barely time to take in what form she now had, when what she had thought was a snowdrift heaved upward on two hind legs, roaring, and came at them with monstrous paws spread wide to crush them all.

  But they were not there when the polar bear's foreclaws hit the snow. Kestrel had gone to the right, the white wolf to the left, and the owl straight up. This time they attacked the bear; the fox nipping at its hind end, the wolf tearing at its flanks, and the owl battering its face and eyes with its wings.

  The bear roared with frustration, and knocked the owl out of the air. Instantly, both Kestrel and Mooncrow leapt in, each snatching a wing, and pulling it away from the bear's claws.

  This is nothing but stalemate, she thought to herself, as she panted, her sides heaving, her lungs aching. He can wear us down like this-we have to find some way to bottle him up!

  "Put me down and follow!" commanded Moh-shon-ah-ke-ta, and she obeyed unthinkingly, opening her jaws, then followed as the owl plunged forward into-

  The cool, green depths of the forest.

  A very, very large forest-

  No, she was simply very small.

  She scampered instinctively into the shelter of a leaf-filled cranny beneath the trunk of a fallen forest giant. She was a deermouse; beside her was a chipmunk, and beside him, a vole. She peered out at the forest outside; it was as silent as the city had been noisy, with one lone bird calling off in the distance, and not even a faint breeze rustling the trees. Sunlight lanced down through the branches, making shafts of gold among the green.

  "Kestrel, will you trust me?" asked her ancestor, twitching his whiskers with agitation. Nearby, a black wolverine snuffled through the dead leaves, and she knew that this was the Evil One, looking for them. But for the moment, they were safely hidden in the hollow beneath the fallen tree.

  "Yes," she answered simply.

  "Then when you find yourself as a swallow, fly into the first cave that you see. "

  Fly into a cave? But even though swallows were clever flyers, and often nested in caves, how would that help?

  She never got a chance to ask that question, for at that moment the black wolverine caught their scent, and began to dig at the entrance to their shelter.

  "Follow!" cried Mooncrow.

  And once again she darted through the air, this time above a landscape she recognized. It was the area around Carlsbad, New Mexico, and she was, indeed, in the shape of a swallow.

  Unfortunately, she was entirely alone.

  And behind her was a Cooper's hawk, talons outstretched to snatch her out of the sky.

  The Cooper's was the deadliest predator of birds that flew; Kestrel had seen them take starlings and crows before their prey even knew there was a danger. With a squeak of panic, Kestrel twisted and dipped and turned, trying to outmaneuver her enemy.

  But she was tired, and the Evil One wasn't even missing a wingbeat!

  She looked down, hoping for some kind of brush to dive into to shake her pursuer. But there was nothing down there but rocks and cactus-

  And the mouth of a small cave.

  She folded her wings and dove. The hawk followed, but as she looked back, she heard him laugh, and saw him transform in midair from a hawk to a great black owl!

  Too late for her to change direction-

  She shot through the mouth of the cave into echoing semidarkness. "How kind of you to be so stupid as to go into a place where I have the advantage!" he mocked, as she banked frantically, just in time to avoid the back wall of the cave. Then she had to bank again, as her flight took her too near the entrance he was guarding, evading his talons by so little that she squeaked with pain as he grabbed one of her primaries and yanked it out.

  He lunged at her-

  And as soon as he passed into the cave itself, he flew directly into the web of an enormous spider!

  It confused him, and he flapped in place, angrily shaking his head to try and rid himself of the clinging fibers. But before he could, a huge bat dropped down on his back from the ceiling above, knocking him into the floor of the cave so hard that he hit his head. And for the moment, he lay stunned.

  Kestrel seized the opportunity and darted outside, followed by the bat.

  The bat transformed into Moh-shon-ah-ke-ta as soon as both of them were outside; Mooncrow rose up from out of the rocks, and Kestrel dropped down beside him and took her human form again.

  "Now!" cried her Ancestor.

  They joined power, calling on the ancient rocks, calling on the Earth and Air, the Sky and Lightning-

  And all the ancient spirits answered them.

  The earth shook itself, knocking them off their feet; the Sky sent down Lightning all around them, blinding them, deafening them, hemming them in-

  Rocks tumbled down the slope of the hill, blocking the entrance of the cave, and before the Evil One could find a shape to escape the trap, Lightning struck the hillside again and again until the sand smoked and fused, sealing him inside for all time.

  David dodged a swipe of Calligan's knife, and stumbled into the side of the desk, sending everything that was not already on the floor flying. He grabbed an ashtray and flung it at the man, who dodged it, laughing wildly, and slashed at him again.

  The wind
ow's too small to get out of, even if Jennie were conscious. The only chair is on the other side of the desk. The filing cabinets are too heavy to tip over-

  He ducked another knife strike, frantically running through his limited options.

  The phone is on the floor, and I don't think he's gonna give me a minute to call 9-1-1-

  Was that smoke?

  He glanced to the side and swore. The lamp that had been on the desk had gone into the wastepaper basket; smoke wisped up from the trash. Calligan followed his glance, and grinned even more as flames licked up from the paper and the bulb exploded with a pop.

  Oh shit. Isn't the other side of this trailer where they keep the explosives' shed?

  To put it out, he'd have to leave Jennie-which was exactly what Calligan wanted. The minute he left her unprotected, Calligan would kill her.

  Calligan laughed, and David snarled as the flames licked up a little higher from the wastebasket.

  This guy is effin' crazy! Where the hell is Mooncrow? Can't he see the fire from here? Mooncrow might not be able to get through the locked door, but if he called the fire department-

  Calligan lunged, and David skidded out of reach, the blade actually ripping his shirt in passing. Calligan was as fast as a striking snake; he recovered and lunged again, as the flames caught the chair next to the desk and dense black smoke mingled with the flames-

  If the fire didn't get them, the smoke surely would!

  Where was Mooncrow?

  Calligan's got him. Or he's had a stroke. He'd looked awfully gray back there at the office.

  Calligan lunged again, trying to drive David away from Jennie, and cackled insanely. And this joker doesn't care if we all die so long as he gets me and Jennie!

  Screw this. There's only one way to deal with this maniac.

  He knew he was going to get hurt, but he didn't think that Calligan would anticipate his next move, and he remembered something one of his Lakotah buddies told him about going up against a knife-fighter.

  You can always take the knife out of the picture if you're willing to get hurt doing it. Just force the target on him; don't let him pick where he's going to stick you.