by Tom Deitz
“So once you have found Dagantu, once you have freed him, what then?” Uki asked at last, giving Fionchadd his Cherokee name, which meant Lizard—because he moved like one, not because of the year he had spent in that shape. “Will not those who have imprisoned him follow you? What is to keep them from entering your Land?”
“Fear, mostly,” David replied. “They don’t dare draw too much attention to themselves, since our World doesn’t believe in magic and I’m afraid there’d be more magic afoot than the Sidhe like—and that’s not even countin’ the problem they have with iron.”
“It also depends on where Finny’s bein’ held,” Calvin added carefully. “We thought he was captive in some part of Faerie subject to Finvarra—like Erenn. That’d make the most sense, but when Liz looked for him, she found him…she’s not sure, but geographically it…seemed to be near Atlanta, which is a large city in our world many days walk from us—though we probably won’t be walkin’.”
“We really can’t tell until we know more,” Alec interrupted. “As it is, we’re unbelievably lucky Finno’s even on this side of the Atlantic. Otherwise, we’d really be calling in favors we don’t have with you trying to get to places from which we could maybe reach Faerie, or asking for teleportation magic, or I don’t know what all.”
“Fortunate indeed you are,” Uki said, “and I think your plan is wise. But one thing yet concerns me: You say you fear pursuit into your world if your foe finds you have stolen your friend. That is reasonable enough. But what troubles me is that you have also spoken of a need to get him to the land of his mother’s folk—”
“Grandmother’s folk, actually,” David corrected. “His mother’s mother was a Powersmith, her father was brother to Annwyn’s queen.”
“I am set straight,” Uki laughed, nonplussed. “But whatever the relationship, there is a thing you are not telling me, is there not? A favor you wish to ask?”
Calvin nodded sheepishly. “Saw right through us, didn’t you? But yeah, we are kinda in a bind. See, Finvarra shouldn’t know about Galunlati yet, unless he’s got more spies at Lugh’s court than we know of, but he does know something’s up—knows there’s another World that borders ours, just not where it is or how to get there. But I doubt he knows that the land of the Powersmiths can be reached from here. Lugh has nothing to lose by our freein’ Finny, so if Finny is being held close to Tir-Nan-Og and we wind up there when we try to teleport, we may be okay anyway—we’ll simply turn Finny over to him and have done.”
“But if you do not?”
“That’s what I’m gettin’ to. If we can’t get Finny to Faerie, and can get him to our World, we run the risk of havin’ Finvarra follow him into our World. So what I was hopin’ is that we could kinda keep the option open of bringin’ Finny back into Galunlati, at least briefly, if we really have to. Once here, we can either send word to Powersmithland, or else—if you’ll let us—go through Galunlati until we’re fairly close to where that naval battle’s gonna be, and then switch back there.”
Uki nodded grimly and frowned, but he looked relaxed. “I do not like this,” he said finally. “I do not like the idea of becoming ensnared in the workings of other Lands, and I fear to see this war spread through all the Lands. Yet if it is not stopped, if Lugh uses this weapon on Midsummer’s Day, we may all be doomed. Surely he knows this.”
“I’m not so sure,” David interrupted. “I think Tir-Nan-Og—all of Faerie—is more secure than Galunlati. I don’t think even Lugh would be so suicidal as to knowingly risk his own World.”
“There are many variables,” Uki said. “Too many, yet you have given me much to report to the Council. Still, time is critical, and Edahi has said more than once that it is easier to get forgiveness than permission. Therefore, you have my permission to proceed—but cautiously, and only if there is no other choice, for I do not want attention drawn to Galunlati. Should you succeed in freeing Dagantu, you may enter Galunlati if need be. I would urge that you do so only if necessary. Since there is a battle a-borning to the south, I would also suggest you make the transfer there—you will have less territory to travel through.”
“There aren’t any uktenas down there, are there?” Alec asked nervously.
“No,” Uki chuckled. “But I would beware of bears and rabbits.”
David frowned thoughtfully. “Uh, speakin’ of critters, there’s something I keep meanin’ to ask you. I…I keep wonderin’ about you and snakes and the uktena. I mean the uktena was your enemy, right? You had us kill it. And you’re supposed to be standin’ guard over the Snake Women—your sisters; and you don’t like havin’ snakes around. Yet you wear them as ornaments, and everything I’ve read since I left here indicates that snakes are important in weather magic. I can’t reconcile the two.”
“It is a hard thing to understand, is it not?” Uki replied, smiling. “But remember the heart of our magic derives in part from similarities and in part from things that are part of more than one world at once. Snakes move like water, therefore they may help bring the water. They are neither fish, though they have scales; nor beast, though they go upon the land; nor bird, though they lay eggs. In this they have power, and that power may be used to bring rain, which is water between earth and sky, which may be solid or liquid or even air.”
“I see,” David said. “Sort of… But there’s another thing that puzzles me.” He paused, swallowed. “If lookin’ at an uktena causes death to the seer’s family, why didn’t our folks die when I turned into one last fall?”
“Because you were not truly in your Land, for one thing,” Uki told him. “There was so much magic afoot that your power could not get through. But more importantly,” he added, “you were not yourself truly evil.”
David had just started to inquire further when Calvin shushed him.
“No time for that now, White ’possum, we’ve got other things to talk about.” He eyed Uki speculatively. “We still need one favor. “
Uki raised an eyebrow. “Oh?”
Calvin looked embarrassed, an expression David had seldom seen him wear. It made him look younger, and David decided he tended to think of Calvin as being older than he probably was—and then realized he didn’t really know his friend’s true age.
“Uh, yeah,” Calvin mumbled awkwardly. “I told you we may be able to spring Finno by goin’ to wherever he is and simply unchaining him. Trouble is, we don’t really know how to get there, since the only way that might work is closed. So we were sort of wonderin’ if you could lend us a few uktena scales to burn, so we could maybe try to get there that way.”
Uki frowned. “Those scales are rare and precious and not to be used capriciously. It takes much medicine to prepare them. This you know.”
“Right,” Calvin affirmed. “And I’m afraid our plan may require a fair number, just in case. But we can always bring ’em back if we don’t use ’em. And I’d be glad to help you make more.”
“How many?” Uki asked gravely.
Calvin’s brow wrinkled in thought as he counted on his fingers. “Let’s see, at least two to get there, if he’s only one World away and if only two of us go, which is probably the minimum we could get by with: somebody who knows Faerie and somebody who knows Cherokee magic—me and Dave, I guess. And then three to get us back to our World with Finny—or twice that number if he’s more than one World away. And then three more to get here, if we have to use that option—assumin’ we can’t jump straight here, which I doubt we can, given that we can’t see two Worlds away with just an ulunsuti. The last is a contingency,” he added hopefully.
“And more yet to get you to the Powersmiths and more yet to get you home again when this is over,” Uki groaned wearily, though his eyes twinkled. He sighed dramatically and strode off to his chamber once more to return with yet another pouch. He emptied it onto the floor in a cascade of ruddy, vitreous color. “These are all that remain of our winter’s labor,” he said, “for only certain scales may be used. I will try to make more, should y
ou need them, but these are all I have now. And remember, it will take three for you to return to your own Land from here this time.” He sorted through the pile and wound up with thirty scales. “Six hands I have but I cannot give you all. Will four hands and two be enough?”
“More than enough, I hope,” Calvin said after an instant’s calculation. “If not—well, we’ll just have to wing it.” David watched as Uki swept all but eight of the scales back into the pouch, which he then handed to Calvin, before distributing three of the remainder among the boys.
The shaman disappeared again, to return a moment later with a medium sized leather pouch which bulged in odd places. This too he handed to Calvin. “Should you attempt what I suspect you will, Edahi, you may find the contents to be very useful. Go now,” he added, “and take the scales with my blessing and the blessing of Galunlati. I will do what I can here, but I fear the battle will be mostly yours, and truth to tell, what you have told me sounds too simple, for surely Finvarra will have posted guards. Remember what I have said: use the scales sparingly, for they are rare and cost much to empower—as well you know. Avoid my Land if you can, but if you cannot, make the crossing in the south. Now come, I will call down the lightning.”
David cringed at that, yet knew it was no worse than the flames they had come through to reach this land.
Uki rose and led the way to the shelf behind the falls. Once more he bade them hold their scales aloft; once more he had them close their eyes and think on home. A word from him, a certain chant and a pattern of claps—and lightning flashed down from the sky and pierced the falls and sent them first into agony and then back into Carolina.
Chapter XV: Into the Breach
(Sylva, North Carolina—Sunday, June 15—early morning)
The first things David heard when he found himself once more in Calvin’s Power Wheel were Alec’s muttered “Damn” and Calvin’s relieved “Whew!” A yip of surprise a bare second later might have come from either of the women, but David was too startled by the cessation of pain, the resumption of noise after the abrupt transition, to identify its origin, and by then whoever it was had regained her composure.
It was now full dark, and in the moment it took his eyes to adjust from glare to gloom, he wondered how long they’d been gone, how time in Galunlati translated into time in his World. A check of his watch did no good: it had stopped, which did not surprise him. Someone cleared her throat and he spun around and saw Liz and Sandy still sitting on the de-barked logs that surrounded the Wheel. They’d obviously left at least once, though, because they were both nursing steaming mugs, and Liz had acquired a large green serape which she had draped around her shoulders. It was not cold, but there was a decided nip in the air which made David shiver from the contrast with the oppressive heat they had left behind.
“Lord!” Sandy exclaimed, rising and stretching luxuriously. “I don’t know if I could ever get used to seeing that; never mind what it does to theories about the conservation of matter, and all.” While she spoke, she was unscrewing the large thermos she held, while Liz fumbled in the wicker basket beside her. “Liz said you were all coffee drinkers,” she continued, stifling a yawn as she took one of the mugs Liz produced, and filled it. “Unusual for young folks, I’d say—but then, you’re unusually civilized young folks.”
David took the mug gratefully and sniffed it, noting the strong aroma. Fortunately he liked it strong. There was a hint of cocoa, too: mocha. “Like the mugs?” Sandy inquired absently. “Got ’em at a Renaissance fair down near Athens.”
David examined his. The smiling face of a wizard looked back at him. It reminded him of Oisin. He smiled back and wondered if Sandy was talking about inconsequentialities for their sake or hers.
“Nice,” he said, glancing at his watch again. “Uh, what time is it, by the way?”
“Four in the morning,” Sandy replied promptly, yawning once more. “You’ve been gone about six hours. Want some breakfast?” she added hopefully.
“Love some,” came Alec’s quick response, and David too realized he was hungry again, in spite of what he’d eaten in Galunlati.
“But we need to get goin’! We don’t have time to—” Calvin began to protest, until a scowl from Sandy froze him in mid-sentence.
“Haven’t we already decided that saving the world goes better on a full stomach?”
The silence that followed was more proof than David needed that Calvin too was running close to empty.
* * *
Half an hour later, full of bacon, sausage, omelets, and waffles—and about a gallon of juice and coffee—David and his friends stumbled from the table to the circle of seats in front of the fireplace. The sky outside was barely pinkening.
“Well, that was good,” Calvin said, “but I reckon we’d better be gettin’ down to business.”
“Sounds good to me,” David yawned, taking a place at Liz’s feet. Alec joined him; Sandy slipped in at Calvin’s side.
“So what’d you find out?” Liz finally blurted.
A sigh, and Calvin began sketching in the details of their meeting with Uki; and David found himself nearly nodding off in spite of the urgency of their situation. He hadn’t slept well the night before—nor the night before that. Add the painful transition to and from Galunlati, a fair bit of exercise there, plus a lot of mental gymnastics, and he wasn’t surprised that it was all starting to catch up with him.
“So granting that Uki’s given us permission to use Galunlati and given us some scales to burn, where does that leave us?” Liz wondered when Calvin had finished.
“It leaves us with two immediate problems,” Alec replied pragmatically, rising to poke up the small fire they had built more for company than comfort. “How do we get to where Finno is, and how do we rescue him?”
“Three problems, actually,” David corrected sleepily. “Where is there? All we know’s that it’s near Atlanta—we think. And probably in another World, since Hot-lanta oughta overlap Tir-Nan-Og.”
“Got any notions about that?”—from Liz.
“One, maybe,” David said, rubbing his eyes. “I think Finvarra found some secret way to this place he’s stashed Finno—and it’s not very big, so if you didn’t know to go there, you’d probably miss it.”
“So he may not even know about the possible border with our World?” Alec wondered.
“Which means?”
“Which means we gotta go there,” David replied heavily. “Fortunately old Fargo here’s got an idea about that.”
“Right,” Calvin agreed. “And the sooner we get at it the better.”
“Like when?” Liz asked, stroking David’s hair absently.
“Tomorrow?” Alec ventured.
Calvin looked at David with a mischievous twinkle in his eye. “Actually, I was thinking more like now.”
“Now!” David cried pitifully. “You have got to be kiddin’! I can barely hold my eyes open—and you’re not much better!”
“Would you rather wait and risk Tracy’s life?” Calvin shot back. “It may be almost a week until Midsummer’s, but we’ve gotta leave time for things to go wrong!”
“No!” Sandy said firmly. “Time or no time, you guys are dead on your feet. You’re gonna rest some before we even consider any more of this. Come on, I’ve got plenty of crash space—plenty of floor, anyway.”
*
They bedded down—all of them, including Sandy—in a semicircle of sleeping bags before the fireplace. Calvin drew the loose-woven drapes, which had the effect of dimming and softening the light without actually plunging them into darkness. The fading fire was their only illumination. Sandy had put an Alan Stivell harp tape on to help them relax, and its delicate melodies wove through the gloom, mingling with the hush of breathing as they all tried to sleep. But there was a lot of shifting and thumping and twisting, too, as bodies strove to find rest brains were slow to provide.
“So you mean to start out from here?” Alec asked, finally breaking the uneasy silence.
<
br /> “Quiet!” Liz mumbled.
“But I’d sleep better knowing what was gonna happen when I get up!”
“Alec!”
“Oh, why the hell not?” Calvin agreed. “I more or less feel the same way.”
“So…?” Alec prompted.
“So Finny’s prison may be in or near Atlanta, but the scales can transport in space as well as between Worlds, so there’s no reason not to start from here. I mean, it’d save a shitload of time. All you’ve gotta do is know someone of Power where you’re goin’—or have someone with a lot of mojo to send you, like we did.”
“Which still presupposes two things,” Alec yawned: “That Finno’s Power’s the right kind, and that he can help us if he wants to—and that the scales will even work where he is to get you back. I mean you might find yourselves stranded, if the Powers of one World don’t transfer to another, which they don’t always do.”
“Fascinating,” Sandy muttered under her breath. “We have got to talk about this some time. But not now,” she added pointedly.
“There may be another problem, though,” David said slowly. “Somethin’ even Uki seems to have forgotten.”
Calvin propped up on an elbow and stared at him, scowling. “What’s that?”
“You need to have been where you’re goin’.”
The lines in the Indian’s forehead deepened. “Crap,” he groaned, falling back against his pillow. “You’re right! How could I have been so stupid?”
“Yeah,” Liz said, glancing sideways at David. “But if it is Faerie, you have been there. Maybe if you held on to Calvin when you burned the scale, that’d do the job.”
“What about trying to send word to Lugh and have him help us?” Alec suggested. “Wouldn’t that be the simplest thing? What about just using the scales to get there and tell him, instead of us trying to spring Finno on our own? Obviously Lugh’s better equipped than we are.”
“Maybe we should try that,” David agreed uncertainly. “We might be overlookin’ the obvious by assumin’ we can’t get to Tir-Nan-Og.”
