by Lee Roland
Maeve gave Flor a skeptical look. She already knew Immal was one powerful witch, and now, as a box of ashes…oh, well. Incredible events had occured since she’d met Flor and her most advantageous Aunt Immal.
Flor smiled and shrugged.
The raven spread its wings and glided to the edge of Harriet’s table. Harriet ignored him. His blue-black sheen offered sharp contrast to the harpy’s light cream and brown-flecked feathers. He inched closer. Finally, he hit her personal space.
“Go ’way,” Harriet shouted. She spread her wings and hopped up and down.
The raven backed up—a little.
Harriet continued scratching through the popcorn. In what seemed to be an accident, she flipped a couple of kernels the raven’s way. He raised himself to eat them, and then settled back down.
“What are female dragons like?” Flor asked.
“Worried about the competition?”
“You’re kidding.” Flor opened her eyes wide and cocked her head.
“Yeah. I guess I am. You’re never going to get rid of your personal dragon. Besides, there aren’t any female dragons, now. Raymond didn’t tell you?”
Flor’s eyes opened in surprise. “No. He’s…it’s difficult to understand him at times. This is a beginning for us. I hesitate to push too much.”
Maeve reached out and patted Flor’s hand. “Dragons are dragons; they don’t think like we do, and that’s all there is to it. Once you accept that, you can live with it. Dragon’s have grand hearts, but there aren’t any gray areas, and deception is against their nature. They don’t talk much. The world is pretty simple to them, so they rarely explain anything.”
“But the females…?” Flor leaned forward, her eyes bright with interest.
“The war on Ataro killed most of them. According to history, females were much more aggressive than the males and always ready for a fight. Raymond’s mother and a few other females flew away from the destruction, but many were injured, and they all died later. I don’t think Raymond remembers her. There are always those stupid prophecies of the female’s return. It’s probably bullshit. When the last dragon dies…” Utter sadness filled her voice. When the last dragon died, their part of the magic would end forever.
“Would female dragons be like male dragons? If there were any?”
“I don’t know. Physically I think they would. I’d hope they’d be a little more…expressive.”
Flor laughed. “Expressive. You mean more concise, less cryptic?”
Maeve laughed with her. “Yeah, I guess I do. I love Raymond, but I can’t have much of a deep conversation with him. He couldn’t, or wouldn’t, answer any of my questions. All he’s ever done is follow me and bail me out of trouble.”
“Do any ordinary humans live in Elder?”
Maeve nodded. “In the late seventeen hundreds, people wandered into the valley. The Witch’s Council, that’s the government in Elder, decided it was better to let a few of them in. Sort of a controlled population of ordinary people. They love it there. It’s paradise to them. Peaceful, no crime. That’s how it stands now. A person who drives through the gap finds a quaint little dead-end town. No land for sale, though. The witches own all of that.”
“The ordinary humans, do they see anything?”
“Probably. Those that grew up there anyway. They don’t talk about what they see, though. The witches manipulate that. They cast spells. They’d have to.”
“See and don’t see. One of the first spells I learned. It’s easy.”
“For you, maybe. Nothing in magic is easy for me.” Maeve gazed at the woods where Raymond’s silver hair flashed in dappled light. “Flor, you saw what I did in Garden City when I healed Raymond. I could have killed people. It’s too dangerous for me to try spells unless there’s a crisis. I gave up on magic years ago.”
The little witch laughed softly. “Magic hasn’t given up on you.” She tossed a piece of yellow, vinyl-covered wire on the table. “Remember this?”
“Yeah, I used it to hot wire the white van.”
“Are you sure? Maeve, a day after you stole it—”
“It’s not stealing when your life is in danger.”
“Okay, when you borrowed it. You went to pay for gas and the wire fell down when the door closed. I looked under the dash, didn’t know where it went, so I wrapped it around a piece of plastic. When you climbed back in, you grabbed the end of it, and before I could say anything, you touched it to another wire—and the engine started.”
“So?” Maeve studied the flowers in the meadow. The conversation had taken an uncomfortable turn.
“Maeve, that van had a state-of-the art computer lock and theft system. Your wires didn’t do anything. They were totally useless.”
“Magic. You’re saying I used magic. Unconsciously. That the engine started and ran because I wanted it to.” She rubbed her hands to keep them from shaking. She did not want to have this conversation. “Next thing you’re gonna tell me is that my trucker’s only liked me because I witched them too?”
“Don’t start that poor, worthless orphan act again. You’re alive and have an unsurpassed talent for—”
“Getting in trouble.”
Flor shrugged and grinned. “I was going to say protecting those you love. Tell me though, did you ever get picked up by a man, a driver, who wanted to hurt you, tried to rape you?”
“No. I could always feel that kind.”
“And you could feel the ones who would care for you. When you care for someone you are absolutely fearless.”
Was Flor right? Had she unconsciously used magic to get what she wanted? Maeve stared at the ground and bit her lip. Poor worthless orphan indeed. Uncalled magic worked, but deliberate spells went crazy. Her life was a mess, no doubt about it.
“I’m not fearless, Flor,” she said quietly. “I’m afraid now.”
“But you go on. You know what you have to do and, magic or not, you’ll do it.”
“Because Immal put a spell on me, to force me to go to Elder. You were there. Didn’t you feel it?”
“That spell dissipated within hours. I felt it fade. It shouldn’t have, not with Immal’s power behind it, but it did. I think you removed it without knowing.” Flor reached out and stroked the raven’s shiny feathers. “I guess I should have told you.”
Maeve stared at the ground. She kicked a small hole with the toe of her boot. In examining herself, she realized Flor was right about the spell being gone. Survival had taken precedence, and she hadn’t noticed when it faded. But damn, it was a powerful thing—full of incredible magic. Why would it just fade? That defied all she knew of magic. Now what? She should give them the keys to Ryder’s truck, go to the roadside, and stick out her thumb. She’d go find Ryder and make amends somehow. No! Spells be damned. She wouldn’t leave her friends to face whatever danger waited in Elder.
Harriet had stopped pretending to eat the popcorn. She sat and glared at the big raven.
Maeve nodded at the birds. “I don’t want to interrupt them, but we have to go.”
The raven lifted off and flew toward the truck. He glided in the open window, hopped to the dash, and settled down under the rear view mirror.
“Well. I guess that’s it then.” Maeve laughed. “Let’s go, we’re only an hour from Jessupville. I’ll call Tana and try to find out what’s going on.”
Harriet refused to get in the truck, and Maeve drew her aside. “What’s the matter?”
Harried made a rude noise. “He wants to—”
“Do the nasty. I know. He’s a guy. They’re all like that. But he’s very handsome, Harriet. All black and shiny. You might like him if you get to know him.”
Silence.
Maeve ruffled the feathers on the harpy’s chest. “Pretty please and promise popcorn every day. Well, at least every other day.”
Harriet giggled, “’Kay.”
“Do you know his name?”
“Orcus.”
“Nice.” Maeve ruffed her f
eathers again.
Orcus. The name was actually atrocious, given the situation.
Harriet hopped to Maeve’s shoulder and settled there with a gentle rustle of feathers.
Chapter Eleven
“I can’t get through,” Maeve said. “I’ve called everyone I know. The operator says there’s no service to Elder. Elder’s had phone service since 1946.” She’d parked the truck under a large oak tree near the side of a convenience store. Jessupville sat six miles from the Elder road and thirteen miles from Falcon Gap. Flor sat on the truck’s tailgate feeding Orcus peanuts. Harriet watched them from a tree branch above. Even after Maeve persuaded her to ride, she sulked and wouldn’t speak to anyone.
“Damn, I wish I knew what was going on.” Maeve glared at Raymond. Why wouldn’t he tell her anything? He ignored her.
“Is there another way in?” Flor asked.
Maeve shrugged. “The Ogre’s tunnel through the mountain. You don’t want to go there.”
“You went once,” Raymond reminded Maeve.
“I did. I got out because they were afraid of Tana. I had a little inside help, too. The ogres keep the pact, but they claimed that mountain as their own kingdom.”
“What about sending Harriet ahead?” Flor asked.
“Good idea. Harriet?”
Harriet flew to a limb of another oak tree. Orcus lifted off the tailgate and followed her.
Now what?
“Harriet, you come down here!” Maeve yelled. Harriet ignored her. Several people entering the store, unable to see the harpy, stared.
Maeve leaned against the truck bed and gazed at the road. The odds of an attack on the road would increase after they left the main highway. “We have to run the gap then,” she said. “Raymond?”
“I think I can change if I have to. I don’t know if I can fly.”
Maeve stared at the sky. “Sun’s going to set in a few hours. I don’t want try it after dark.”
The need to protect her charges battled with the growing desire to get to Elder and find out what was happening.
“Flor, you lost the suitcase. You have any money left?”
“Five or six thousand in my pack.” Flor shrugged. “Spend it. There’s lots more in a Flagstaff bank. My parents were rich, and Immal gave me what she had.”
“Let’s go,” Maeve said.
“What about Harriet and Orcus?”
“She knows her way home from here. He can follow if he wants.”
Jessupville, population ten thousand, supported seven gun shops. The situation involved a certain lack of gun control laws. A .38 semi automatic and two 12-gauge shotguns cost over three thousand dollars. Another hundred got the barrel cut off one of the shotguns. Ammo? Bullets for the .38, buckshot and slugs for the shotguns. Maeve’s drivers had offered her many lessons on survival. Lonnie from Texas taught her to shoot. She’d never pointed a gun at a living being, but she knew she could if it meant her friend’s lives. Well armed men had chased them, had shot at them, and almost killed Raymond with the Dragon’s bane.
“All right,” Maeve said when they left the gun shop. “Who’s in charge here?”
Silence. Maeve knew the answer to her question, but needed to clarify.
“Okay. It’s me.” She stood straight, hands on hips.
“It’s you, Maeve,” Flor said with a laugh.
Raymond laughed, too. “Nothing’s changed. It was always you, in charge, Maeve. Always.”
“Yeah. Probably why we stayed in trouble so much.” She jammed the .38 into a holster in the small of her back. Bad way to carry a gun, but she’d found a vest long enough to cover it and short enough to let her draw if necessary.
“Here’s the deal. Raymond, Flor, if I say run, you damned well run—both of you. I’m still thinking they’d prefer to have me alive. Raymond, try to change, even if you can’t fly. Flor can stay behind you if they start shooting. Leave me and get away. Go, run, to Elder and find help.”
Maeve shook her head and stared off into the distance.
Flor punched her in the arm. “You’re thinking about leaving us here, aren’t you?”
“Yes. That’s the most intelligent thing to do. Rational, too.” She grinned at Flor. “Since when are witches rational?”
“Some are, Maeve. I used to be.”
“I’ve corrupted you?”
Flor blushed and directed adoring eyes toward Raymond. “But I feel so fortunate. I’m not waiting for life to happen anymore.”
“Yeah, corruption it is. Well, we better go, then.”
When they climbed into the truck, one shotgun, the long barrel, went behind the seat as back up. The short barrel lay on the seat at Maeve’s right hand, barrel pointed to the floor.
Maeve started the truck.
But what if they had Dragon’s Bane? Raymond could be more—or less—susceptible now. Flor’s magical healing could have changed him. She didn’t know. “Flor, you think you can recognize Dragon’s Bane now? You have any magic rabbits or Immal’s to pull out of your box?”
Flor’s smile said she did.
“Try not to surprise me,” Maeve told her. “We shouldn’t have a problem until we get to the gap. The Troll Bridge is the best place for an ambush.” As they drove out of town, the need to get home blossomed in her heart like a rose opening velvet petals to the sun.
When she came to the Elder road, she stopped. “What the…Raymond?”
Raymond shook his head.
A vile fiend had taken the picturesque country road through the mountain forests and tortured it into a paved, well-maintained highway. A horn blasted behind her.
Maeve made the turn.
“I wish I could stop and show you a few sights.” Maeve pointed to her right. “There are Indian mounds over there. The ghosts gave me arrowheads and pottery once.”
The highway climbed higher to where Mountain Laurel bloomed and sweet honeysuckle carpeted the ditches to the forest edge. Sometimes, Maeve could see the abandoned old road sections through the trees. The earth had begun to reclaim the land from man’s artifice as weeds and wildflowers sprouted in extravagant cracks in the pavement. Dark and light flashed in front of them as Harriet and Orcus wove an intricate pattern between the trees.
The Old Elder Road cut through natural openings in the mountains with more ups, downs, and turns than a roller-coaster. The new, straighter road had been dynamited and torn from the mountain’s heart by heavy equipment. Maeve could almost hear the scarred rock faces scream.
They rolled down toward the gap and the Troll Bridge.
“The gap’s a narrow canyon between Ogre and Fox Mountains,” Maeve told Flor. “The Troll Bridge crosses the Ash River right in the middle. It’s only a mile to over the hill to Elder. Or that’s the way it used to be.” One mile—not far, but maybe an impossible distance.
Maeve cut a curve and ran between two pickup trucks parked on the roadside. They fell in behind her. No hurry, they had her trapped. “Right on time,” she said.
The two vehicles behind her kept their distance—at least they weren’t shooting at them.
The Troll Bridge was too small for the road, so there had to be a new bridge. How much damage had that done? When Maeve topped the hill above the river, she slowed the truck. “Inaras help us,” she whispered. She heard Flor murmur in her own language.
A concrete bridge span, at least two hundred feet long and sixty feet wide, stretched out before them. On the far side, three armored cars parked end to end across the road. Armored cars in Elder dwarfed everything Maeve expected. Armed men in black uniforms fanned out around them. Big guns, automatic rifles, and one man held a long tube that looked like a missile launcher. A missile big enough to take out a dragon. Forget the pistols and shotguns.
“Bad guys dressed in black,” Maeve said. “How perfect!”
She cursed her own stupidity, vanity and weakness. How could she believe she had the strength to deal with this? She’d brought Flor and Raymond under death’s irrevocable han
d. They couldn’t power through the barricade, and they couldn’t go back.
Maeve punched the gas and drove onto the span. She skidded to a stop thirty feet from the armored cars. On the doors of each vehicle, an obnoxious red claw curled around the word SETH.
“Stay here,” she said. “Raymond, unlatch your door so it’ll open fast. If they attack, you and Flor try to get over the bridge rail and into the water. The sprites know you, so maybe they can help. They have caves under water with pockets of air. You can hide.” Maeve opened her own door and stepped out. The pickup trucks following them parked on the bridge fifty or sixty feet behind the truck.
A man walked from between the armored cars and approached her. Tall, six-five, dressed in black like the others, but no uniform. A T-shirt and tight jeans showed a weightlifter’s body, and he moved with a dragon’s fluid grace. Maeve thought him handsome—until she looked into his eyes. Cold steel-blue killer’s eyes. The gun holstered under his left arm reinforced the image. More ominous was the larger dart gun on his right hip. Dragon’s Bane. Short range, but Raymond was close now.
They both stopped, six feet apart.
“Good afternoon, Ms. Pallas.” He had a cool, cultured voice. No intonation, no inflection, nothing to tell her his intent.
“Good afternoon. I don’t believe we’ve met.” Maeve tried to look relaxed.
“I’m Erik Sethos. Commander Erik Sethos.”
“I’m Maeve. Don’t use Pallas, my grandmother—”
“I know your grandmother—and your mother.”
Maeve’s mouth tightened at the mention of her mother.
“Your mother is anxious to see you. I’ll take you to her,” he said. “Your friends can go with my men.”
“No. Raymond and Flor stay with me.”
He smiled. A predator’s smile. “Don’t worry, they’ll be fine.”
“Liar.” Did he really think she’d believe that?
Erik shrugged.
Maeve swallowed hard as her hand inched toward her back.
She cut her eyes toward the armoured cars. “All that for little old me? I’m flattered. But of course, you haven’t had much luck the last few days, have you.” All the mockery, all the scorn she could manage went into those words.
