by Tom Deitz
“Worth a try,” Liz affirmed.
“Except for one thing,” Calvin reminded them. “We’ve got a really limited number of scales. If we try and succeed, we’re fine—maybe. But if we try and fail, we don’t have enough to get us back to our World at the end. And since we need to keep our options open, we need to conserve those scales. It takes a long time to get the stuff together to set ’em up, and we can’t afford to spend ’em like they were Marta tokens, or something.”
“So you think…?”
“I think we need to stick to our original plan first. Try to save Finno ourselves, and then if that doesn’t work, use the remainin’ scales to try to get into Tir-Nan-Og and hope we can get somebody there to listen to us.”
“Yeah, I guess you’re right,” David yawned, turning over. “I was just hopin’ we could get out of havin’ to go through that pain more than we have to.”
“I know the feelin’—literally,” Calvin sighed. “But sometimes it just can’t be helped.”
“Okay,” Alec said. “So now we’ve gotta decide how we’re actually gonna do the deed.”
“No!” Sandy growled from her place beside Calvin, “Now we’ve gotta get some shut-eye!”
Not even Alec dared to argue with her tone.
*
“Me and Calvin’ll go, I guess,” David announced from his place at the dining table late that afternoon when they were all up and alert and eating again. “Him for the magic, and me as native guide, or something,” he continued. “Not that I know much about Faery magic, ’cept by instinct. Any ideas, Fargo?”
“Well,” Calvin replied, sopping up the remnants of a bowl of venison stew with a biscuit, “now that we know where we’re goin’, I think we can just use the ulunsuti to check in there—if Alec and Liz work it right. It’s Alec’s, so he needs to keep by it, and she’s the only one who can scry. So if we go and something happens, they’ll at least know what, and be able to take alternative action.”
“And we can leave them a couple of scales to use to try to get to Lugh, if they have to,” David added.
“Good idea.”
“So how’re you gonna do it, though, once you’re there?” Alec wondered.
David shrugged helplessly. “Unfortunately, I haven’t got around to that yet—there’s so much to think of all of a sudden. Argghhhh!”
Calvin grinned. “I’ve been thinkin’ about it, though. Since I’m not certain exactly where we’ll land—whether in land or water, I think we probably oughta have a contingency.” He looked at David. “You still got your other scale?”
“The ones Uki just gave us? I thought you had ’em.”
Calvin shook his head. “No, the one Oisin gave you—the one you used to shapeshift.”
David reached for the pouch in his pocket, then drew it back quickly, suddenly alarmed. “Uh-uh, no way, man! Not me! Never again! I can read it in your eyes! You want me to skinchange!”
“Uh, not exactly,” Calvin replied reasonably. “I think we ought to skinchange—or be prepared to if we have to. I think we ought to go through in swimmin’ togs, just in case we land in that water we saw. But since we don’t know how far we’ll have to swim—”
“I’m a good swimmer,” David informed him. “Real good.”
“Yeah, so am I, but that doesn’t mean I can swim as far as we may have to. But we could if we became fish, or otters, or whatever.”
“No fucking way!”
“But why? You’ve done it before, man.”
David swung on him. “Because, Fargo, it scared me to death last time! I almost lost myself in the uktena, I did terrible things, and nearly did worse ones! Shoot, man; you were there: you and Liz had to call me back, and that was under pretty controlled conditions! You think if I shift in some other World it’s gonna be possible to do that?”
“David—”
“Besides, you can’t shapeshift!”
“Can’t I?”
“You’ve never done it!”
“No,” Calvin shot back. “But I know how it’s done, and I’ve got a spare untreated uktena scale, which is all you need!”
“So you’re willin’ to try something that major in a World you’ve never been in with someone who might go wacko on you?”
“That’s about the size of it, isn’t it?”
David rolled his eyes. “Oh crap, Fargo, I must be gettin’ old. A year ago I’d have said sure, but now I’m really freaked by the whole idea. But…” He threw up his hands in resignation. “Oh, why the hell not? I mean my luck’s held so far.”
“Yeah,” Calvin said, grinning. “And besides, we may not even have to do any of this stuff. I’m hopin’ we can land in the tower itself, grab Finno, and zap outta there in a blaze of uktena scale sparkles.”
“What about the guards?”
“Good point,” Calvin acknowledged. “So we just look through, and wait until they’re not there. Now come on,” he added, draining the last of his cider and rising from the table. “Let’s collect some gear and get goin’. I think I’ve got some spare togs that’ll fit you.”
“But what about the chains?” Liz reminded them, rising as well.
“I’ll take care of that,” Sandy assured them. “I’ve got some bolt cutters somewhere ’round here that’ll make mince-meat out of ’em.”
*
David and Calvin changed in the bedroom. Calvin lent David a pair of gym shorts which fit him nicely and a Maggie Valley T-shirt that was far too big. A pair of old sneakers completed the ensemble. “For walkin’ on the rocks, man; or in case there’re barnacles. Those filings’ll trash your feet in a second, y’know. If we don’t need ’em, we can kick ’em off. Too bad we don’t have any life vests,” he added with a teasing grin—“just in case you need one.”
David ignored the jibe and for the next hour and a half helped his friends rummage through the house in search of odd bits that might be useful—rappeling line and tackle, a couple of hunting knives—and a pair of small mixed-nuts cans with plastic lids which caused David to raise an eyebrow in curiosity.
“Survival kits,” Sandy informed him, clunking them onto the kitchen counter. “In case you have to stay a while. Hope you won’t need ’em, but it’s better to be safe than sorry.” She proceeded to waterproof them by wrapping them in double plastic bags and tucked the whole mess into a pair of blue denim fannypacks, one of which she handed to David. “You may have to adjust that one, it’s mine, but better not to go without.”
David shot a sly glance at Calvin. “I thought you could survive with just your teeth?”
The Indian grinned, displaying a fine set of choppers. “I just prefer not to.”
David scanned the room, hoping, he supposed, to find one more cause for delay, one more important thing they’d forgotten.
Calvin headed for the door, and paused, then turned and dragged David bodily out. “No way we can really be prepared, man,” he confided. “Sometimes you just gotta grab yourself by the balls and jump.”
*
Ten minutes later they rejoined their friends at the Power Wheel. Sandy had rebuilt the fire and it blazed merrily, giving psychological solace where no physical comfort was needed.
“So let me be sure I’ve got this straight,” Sandy said. “You guys are gonna go to wherever this friend of yours is, cut off his chains, and try to bring him back by burning the scales—that’s simple enough.”
“Except doing it, of course,” Liz noted.
“While we keep watch through the ulunsuti?” This from Alec.
“You got it,” David replied. He turned to Liz. “You up to it?”
She sighed and laid her head against his shoulder. “Sure. It’s just that I’m still a little tired—more mentally than anything else, and tired of worrying about you. I know you’ve gotta do this, but part of me doesn’t want you to. Part of me’s scared, David, scared you won’t come back.”
He nuzzled her hair. “Hey, girl; don’t worry. Well, no, do worry—but no more than y
ou have to. I’ve done stuff like this before and come through okay.”
“Yeah, but you’ve always been prepared before, and I’ve always been where I could help you—almost always,” she amended.
“See?” he chuckled, knowing she was thinking of the time Morwyn had captured him and sent him to raid Lugh’s dungeons. “I did okay then. Luck got me through.”
“And Lugh’s connivance.”
“Liz—!”
“Enough, David,” she whispered. “Just be careful.” And with that she kissed him on the lips and released him.
David glanced around, suddenly embarrassed, and realized he’d completely forgotten his companions.
Alec was looking amused, and Calvin and Sandy were simply gazing at each other. Strange, that was, with her so much older—or was it? Alec’s ma was older than his dad by almost that same difference. He shrugged. None of his business, anyway.
Calvin and Sandy’s fingers trailed apart, and they all reassembled by the fire.
“I think,” Calvin said, “that we ought to all focus on our target, and then when we have, David and I go. That sound good?”
“Whatever you say,” Alec replied.
“Okay, then, folks; let’s do it.”
The ritual did not take long to set up: they sat on woven mats just to the south of the fire, which was in the center, using the same arrangement as before except that this time they each slit a finger with Calvin’s knife, placed them on the ulunsuti, and left them for a moment.
“I don’t think I need the torque now,” Liz told them. “I’ve sort of got the feel of this thing, though I’m damned if I know how to explain it. But I do think it’d help if we were all involved.”
And then there was no more time for speculation, because the instant David looked at the ulunsuti, he was sucked into it. Liz? he cried in panic, and was suddenly with her; Calvin was there too. But where were Alec and Sandy? They were supposed to be anchoring them. Maybe they were, but then Calvin took control, was showing them the Worlds as Uki had shown them to him in Galunlati: all the Worlds—the Lands of Men a bright flame, Galunlati and Faerie—and others plastered over it, overlapping into infinity, all captives of the webwork of the Tracks. This was different, he realized, for here there were no World Walls, just layers. He thought of something, tried to call upon the Sight, and saw the patterns of threads clarify. He gazed at his own World, but saw Faerie over-lying it; focused on one part and saw Tir-Nan-Og—and discovered that the beams of light that were the Tracks had a different glitter there where they touched his World. He brushed one, felt it push back, but knew somehow he could get through. World Walls? It hadn’t been like that with Calvin and Alec.
Suddenly Liz reasserted herself, and he now saw only the pattern of the Tracks that lay about the Earth. She seemed to be sorting colors, and finally found one: A few silver threads among the gold. There were four of them, leading back to what David vaguely recognized as Scotland. No, wait, there was a fifth that led to Ireland, and…a sixth that snaked from Erenn under the golden glitter of Tir-Nan-Og and lay between it and our World, not quite touching.
Liz followed it, and he went with her, with Calvin.
Abruptly he saw it—saw Fionchadd’s face as it must be when colored by Liz’s memory and attitudes—a little more mockery there, a little more threat, but then, she didn’t know him as well as David did. The face solidified, changed, became Fionchadd’s real face, and David became aware of Fionchadd’s presence as well. Pain washed him for an instant, and David flinched, but Liz held firm. And this time his vision cleared, to show him once again the sea-girt tower. Then they were drifting toward it, slipping inside: And there was Fionchadd, chained to a bed, but conscious. David’s breath caught with relief. The room was otherwise empty.
A touch of his shoulder was Calvin drawing him back to reality. He blinked, nodded, and joined the Indian before the flame. Calvin reached into his pouch and pulled out two scales, one of which he gave to David. (He’d left the rest with Sandy, just in case, except for the three they’d need to return.) David took it and did quick inventory of his gear: clothes, shoes, fannypack, bolt-cutters, Liz’s token for good luck, the separate uktena scale he would use to shapeshift if he had to, now slung around his neck on a rawhide cord and clasped by coils of twisted silver. Calvin also wore one that way, along with his own pack, and the thonged pouch containing the teleportation scales.
“One thing,” he whispered to Calvin. “If we have to shift, our gear won’t change with us. If that happens, keep the scales that get us back ’round your neck, or grab ’em in your teeth—unless you’ve got claws that can hold.”
“Right,” Calvin replied. “I’ll keep that in mind. Now—you ready?”
David swallowed nervously, nodded once more, grabbed Calvin by the wrist—and cast the scale into the fire, calling out as he did to Fionchadd. Beside him, distantly, he heard Calvin do likewise.
Flame filled the world then, and light, heat beyond heat reached out to embrace David and he was in it—but…but something was wrong! The agony continued longer than it should—longer and longer. Somehow he felt Calvin’s other hand grasp him, heard the Indian’s unformed scream—and then it was as if they were being stretched tighter and tighter until their very atoms slid apart—until they could stretch no further, and snapped them back on themselves, shattering utterly.
The world vanished, spun; color, temperature, time itself vanished. And then David felt something solid thump against his back.
He opened his eyes—and saw Liz looking down at him. Other heads swam into view and he gasped. His head hurt abominably, and it was a moment before he realized what had happened, where he was.
“Didn’t work,” he grunted—and fainted.
*
It was Calvin that David first saw when he reawakened a short while later. “I guess I’m just like one of those expensive French wines,” he managed to mumble. “I don’t travel real well.”
“I guess you don’t,” Calvin chuckled. “Remind me not to go on any extended trips with you.”
“I’m scared of heights too,” David added, then, more seriously: “What happened?”
“We didn’t make it,” Calvin replied simply. “We got close, I think, but something kept us out.”
“Sealed borders, maybe?”
A shrug. “I think it was just that it’s too far away. The magic could take us there, but not put us back together.”
“Which leaves us back to where we were a day ago,” David said wretchedly. “Except we’ve one less option, and two fewer scales—and we’ve got a lot less time to think up a solution that’s gonna be a whole lot tougher.”
“Real optimist, ain’t you?” Calvin chided him. “I’ve already thought of one possibility.”
David raised a weary eyelid. “Let’s hear it.”
Calvin took a deep breath. “Okay. Well, Uki and me have spent some time talkin’ about the Worlds and all, teleportation, and stuff. He’s shown me part of how to make the scales do the job, but we’ve talked about the ulunsuti, too.”
“Oh yeah?” Alec interrupted, suddenly interested, and apparently forgetting that he was not supposed to like magic.
“Yeah,” Calvin went on. “We know it’s really powerful. It can spy on other places and times, though how it does that I can’t figure out, ’less it sorta acts as a some kinda reality focus—but anyway, it’s partly made of the same stuff as the uktena scales, only a lot more powerful, accordin’ to Uki. So one day I asked him what would happen if someone tried the ritual that makes the scales teleport on the crystal itself. I wondered if that might not make something really powerful.” He paused then, for effect.
“Well, did it?” David asked eagerly.
“I don’t know,” Calvin replied. “Uki said he’d never tried it nor heard of it being tried. He said there were never enough ulunsutis around to risk.”
“So you want to experiment on mine now?” Alec cried protectively.
“If we
have to and you’re willin’,” Calvin replied.
“No way.”
“He told me something else, too, Alec: He told me why he gave you that crystal.”
“And why’s that?”
“He’s got one of his own, of course; and he used it to look into our futures while we were there the first time. He evidently didn’t see a lot of this current crisis, or I think he’d have acted sooner. But he saw you and Liz usin’ an ulunsuti to watch me and David pass out of the world. I…I thought it was what we just did, and he’d seen it wrong somehow; but it must not’ve been. He couldn’t see clearly, he told me, but he said there was a gate. Until now I thought he just meant the fire you throw the scale into, but now I think he meant a real gate. I think the ulunsuti can open a way to another World.”
“Ah-ha!” David exclaimed. “So that was what he was talkin’ about when he said that about you attempting what he suspected you would.”
“Yeah,” Calvin grunted noncomittally.
“So we do it, then?”
“No,” Calvin replied. “Not yet. First we need to get closer to where we think Finny is, just in case the gate only opens in space. And we need the blood of some large animal to prime it.”
“Uki told you this?”
“Basically, yes.”
“What this means, folks,” Alec said, “is that we’ve got miles to go before we sleep.”
“What kind of large animal?” Liz wondered suddenly.
“Leave that to me,” Calvin told her with a smile. “Come on, gang, we gotta travel.”
“Tonight?” David groaned, unable to suppress a yawn.
“Would you rather regret it a week from tonight?”
“No,” David sighed, standing and stretching until he thought his back would snap apart. “I guess you’re right.”
“I know I am,” Calvin told him, as he led the way out of the Power Wheel.
Interlude: A Call
(Sullivan Cove, Georgia—Sunday, June 15—11:30 P.M.)
The phone rang loudly in the dark, and it took Dale Sullivan half-a-dozen tries to lay hands on it.
Half awake, he brought the receiver to his ear. “Hello?” He yawned, scratching his side absently.
