Bone Dance

by Lee Roland

  Over a year had passed since she’d left Cameron, and while the constant craving that plagued her in later years on the road hadn’t taken over, she still wanted sex. Like a brother, Raymond had never sparked that yearning in her. Yarrow, so beautiful and male, sent out an aura of pure unrestrained passion. He filled the room with the heady perfume of desire. Memory overcame her.

  Maeve had climbed out of bed to meet him. Yarrow slipped his fingers through her hair and pulled her close. His kiss tasted sweet like the air above a summer meadow. She wrapped her arms around him, and ran her fingers over silky smooth skin. Her cotton gown somehow disappeared, and his hands and mouth explored her body while she did the same to him. They settled on the floor since her single bed would never hold both of them.

  “Beloved,” he whispered.

  “No. I can’t love you. I can’t—”

  He closed her mouth with another kiss. He opened his aura to her and caught her in his ecstasy. They lay locked in pleasure for unmeasured time, then drifted back into the world. Her body tingled where he kissed and licked it, and her mind reeled with his whispers of what he could do with his tongue if he were in dragon form. Maeve thought she was in paradise—until Tana opened the door and walked in.

  Maeve shook her head and came back to the present. “Tana came in and caught us, and I received the biggest surprise of my life. She told me I should lock the door if I had company. Then she walked out. She never said another word on the subject.”

  “It does sound out of character, but I don’t know her very well.”

  “I guess she thought I would settle down if I stayed with Yarrow. He and I spent a year together, and I was so much in love. You understand that.”

  Flor smiled.

  “One day everything changed. Yarrow dumped me. Told me he didn’t want to see me anymore. He told Raymond not to take me to Dragon’s Lair again. Flor can you imagine—”

  “I don’t want to.” Flor’s eyes narrowed and fear flashed across her face.

  “Don’t worry. Raymond’s not like that.”

  Flor nodded. Yet, she didn’t look reassured.

  “I went crazy then,” Maeve continued. “Started sleeping with any man, ordinary or witch, who would have me, some nice, others not so nice. I played dangerous practical jokes and raised more hell than this valley had seen since the ogres kicked the goblins off the mountain. Tana overlooked as much as she could. Then after that woman committed suicide, she told me to leave. Cameron had been a trucker, so when I left, that’s what I went looking for. I haven’t been back until now.”

  She realized she was wringing her hands. She forced them to relax. “When you make love to a dragon, he pulls you into his aura. With human men, you have to make your own binding. I can’t say that one’s better than the other, but I know what it’s like to have someone you love toss you away as a piece of trash.”

  “Are you speaking of Yarrow or Claire.”

  Maeve looked away.

  Flor rose from the floor and sat down beside her. “Forget Yarrow and Claire. You can trust Raymond, Harriet, Tana, and me. That’s more trust than most of us get in a lifetime.”

  “Maeve,” Tana called to them from downstairs.

  She sighed. “We need to get ready, I guess. No telling what’s going to happen next.”

  Chapter Twenty-Seven

  “Claire is fine,” Tana said. She seemed relieved, but exhausted. She sat at the kitchen table and rubbed her hands across face. “She wasn’t in the house. Unfortunately, neither was he. They wouldn’t let me near the servants. I offered to heal them.”

  Maeve filled the kettle with water for tea and set it on the stove.

  “Smashed the house?” Maeve asked.

  “Most of it.”

  “Wonder what happened to the books.”

  “What books?” Tana frowned.

  “All the magic books in the library. You have a lot of books, Tana, but nothing like what’s there. There was one, he wouldn’t let me near. Bad stuff came from it.” Maeve scanned the glass jars of leaves. She measured out the usual black tea with lemon grass into the clay teapot, and then tossed in a generous handful of laceberry seeds. Laceberries were Elder’s version of valium.

  “I couldn’t feel anything,” Tana said. “Claire warded the house before I arrived. Can you describe the book?”

  Tana sounded odd. Why was she interested in such a corrupt thing? Power, of course. All witches sought power. A compulsion, ingrained in their souls, gave them no rest. As far as Maeve knew, Tana had never committed an evil deed in her life. Unfortunately, the need for knowledge and mastery of magic drove her as it did every other witch.

  “A book. Big, thick, leather binding.”

  “And…” Tana’s eyes glittered.

  Maeve shifted in her seat. With a rare leap of insight, she knew where Tana was going.

  “You think it’s the Akhem, don’t you?”

  “Perhaps.” She shrugged. “A few powerful books survived the destruction of Ataro. Most are accounted for, but a few are missing.”

  “You said the books predated the Elementals. The myth says that they were never far apart. If Sethos has the Akhem, where’s the Hathra?” Maeve clasped her hands in front of her.

  “In my library. If you’d ever taken time to open a book yourself, you’d have found it.”

  Maeve’s mouth dropped open. Score one for Tana.

  Maeve jumped when the teakettle screeched. She stood, poured boiling water from the kettle into the pot, and set the pot on the table. Tana poured a cup, and if she tasted the laceberry, she didn’t say so. “We need to get ready,” she said. “I suppose we’ll have to walk to the Council House. I doubt they’ll send a carriage for us.”

  “Walk? It’s almost two miles. You’re the former High Witch. How can they treat you like that? If they don’t send a carriage by six, we’ll take Ryder’s truck and drive.” Maeve crossed her arms.

  “Maeve, you know motor vehicles are forbidden past the bridge and…” Tana stopped. She laughed. She leaned back and closed her eyes. When she opened them, her face carried a serene expression. “You’re right. I’m not High Witch anymore. I don’t have the appearance of propriety to maintain, but I still have enough influence to get away with it. I’ll ride with you.” She rose, smiling, and Maeve wondered if she hadn’t been too generous with the laceberries.

  She jumped up and wrapped her arms around her grandmother. “I love you, Tana.”

  “And I love you.” Tana reached out and drew Flor into their embrace. When they left the kitchen, Maeve noticed Tana had poured herself another cup of tea and carried it with her to her room.

  ****

  Flor lifted a costume out of the suitcase Maeve had retrieved from the factory. A sleeveless white wrap dress and a long apricot cape. Maeve stared at the cape in wonder.

  Aquamarine and black threads wove symbols and fantastic animals down the sides and back. She recognized a jaguar, but the birds were like none she’d ever seen before. When Flor revolved in the light, the animals seemed to come to life and glide across an apricot sea. A long, sinuous black dragon twisted around the cape’s hem like a snake, coiled to strike.

  Maeve frowned as she spread the cape across the bed. “The dragon doesn’t have wings.”

  “I know,” Flor said.

  “But—”

  “I’ll tell you later.”

  She sighed. Another Flor mystery.

  Flor wedged her fingers under the suitcase bottom, and it popped off. “Thank you again for bringing this.” She removed a cloth-covered package and peeled back the folds. A hammered gold necklace, decorated with purest jade, glowed in the lamplight. A craftsman of unsurpassed skill had carved each milky green stone with a rune. It would be worth millions in the world outside Elder.

  “Help me, please.” Flor held the necklace out to Maeve.

  When she touched the gold, it sang of mystery and power, a fabulous scene just out of sight, out of reach. Supported by its own ma
gic, the necklace weighed very little. She fastened it around Flor’s neck, and the gold and jade draped to her taunt, brown nipples, plainly visible through the white dress.

  “How could you leave it behind?” Maeve traced one of the designs with her finger. It almost seemed familiar.

  “I couldn’t carry it, and other stuff was more important. I knew it would find me eventually. The damned thing can take care of itself. I felt it. It calls to me, and it was already here when we came into the valley.”

  Maeve smiled. She’d never heard Flor use a curse word. “May I ask what it is?” The residents of Elder were quite familiar with objects and persons of power. Maeve knew she stood in the presence of both.

  “Not yet.” Flor sounded apologetic.

  She accepted the plea. She wasn’t going to ruin a friendship over a piece of gold.

  “You accept that?” Flor reached out and grasped Maeve’s hand.

  “Sure. I told you. If Raymond trusts you, so do I. That’s what you want, isn’t it?”

  “You’ve been around Raymond, around dragons all your life. I’m new here, but it seems that you think like them.” She cocked her head and smiled. “But you’ve always thought like a dragon, haven’t you?”

  Maeve shrugged. “Why not? A dragon taught me to walk and talk.”

  “Maeve?” Tana called from down the hall. “Are you ready?”

  Maeve pulled on a clean pair of jeans and made a halfhearted attempt to scrub her boots. She tried to wear a T-shirt with the words, ‘Question Authority,’ emblazoned across the chest, but Tana made her change. “Everyone in the valley knows your temperament, love. You don’t have to hit them on the head with it.” She appeared perplexed at Flor’s costume but made no comment.

  Tana had braided her silver hair and wound it around her head in a crown. A blue robe, embroidered with complex silver runes completed the royal image.

  Raymond staggered down the stairs when they were ready to leave. They forced him back to bed and Tana drugged him again, and then set Chaos and Sutash to guard. The Council had banned dragons from the meetings in 1804 when one accidentally changed shape and tore out the walls.

  No carriage came for them.

  Maeve went to the small barn where she’d stored Ryder’s pickup, cranked it, and drove it to the farmhouse’s front porch. Carriage be damned. “Is the river bridge warded against mechanical vehicles?”

  “Not that I know of,” Tana said as she climbed in. “You remember the time you told me Elder was the backside of the world?” Tea spiked with laceberries had a positive effect on Tana’s disposition, and Maeve wondered why she’d never thought of it before.

  “Yeah.” Maeve had used a word far more graphic than backside.

  Tana flipped a hand toward the Council House. “I’ve begun to think you’re right.”

  Maeve smothered her grin. “You’re pissed. They’ve dumped you, then summoned you like a first-year novice.”

  “I’m furious. More about what’s happened to my home. Being dumped, as you call it, has freed me. The townspeople are gone, so my concern is for you, Flor, Harriet, and Raymond.”

  “Don’t forget Chaos,” Flor said.

  “Him too. This is incredible.” Royal Tana clapped her hands like child. “Inaras, Merisin, many of us don’t believe the Elementals exist. They’re only words used in a ritual. Now my granddaughter—”

  “Hey, the Elementals are supposed to be our guardians, right? So what better time for them to show up.” Maeve headed the truck down the dirt road.

  Tana gave an obviously aggravated sigh. “I agree, but I don’t have to warn you…never mind. If the Elementals support you, I’m on your side. You’ve done well—so far.”

  Sunset faded behind the mountains, but Maeve didn’t turn on the lights. She could see well enough to drive, and she liked surprises, especially if she wasn’t the one surprised.

  From the outside, the Council House appeared as it always had. Two stories, massive wood timbers, and a rune carved door illuminated by torches on either side. The intricate runes, hand carved by long passed craftsman, were in the written ancient language of Ataro. They shimmered in the torchlight and warned of dire consequences to those who entered unbidden. At times, Maeve believed Council House actually groaned and ached under the weight of time and magic.

  Maeve stopped the truck near the door, and they climbed out.

  “Maeve, will you leave things to me?” Tana asked. “At least until you must speak.”

  “Sure I will.” She gave what she hoped was an angelic smile.

  The Council House loomed above them, and the block wood front façade remained as imposing as ever. They stopped before the door and waited. And waited. It should have opened, especially for someone of Tana’s stature. Magic flickered around them, and Maeve knew Tana, furious and low on inhibitions because of the laceberries, was going to blast the damned thing off the hinges. Oh, no! If she did that…

  “Tana.” Maeve slipped her arm through her grandmother’s. “Don’t play their game. Let’s make our own rules. We can go home. Flor needs to be with Raymond anyway.” How amazing. How ironic. Wild Child Maeve was urging Tana to show restraint.

  Tana smiled. The mellow torchlight took years off her face as the gathering storm in her eyes faded. “You’re right.” She smiled and grasped Maeve’s hand. “I have a spice cake in the pantry and a lovely sweet wine chilling in the refrigerator.” She turned and started back to the truck.

  A short, balding man came trotting around the side of the building. The Council House had many doors, but the rune door marked the official entrance.

  “What are you doing?” He rushed up to them, gasping for breath. Ah, yes, Henry, a younger brother of a Council member.

  “Why, I’m leaving, Henry. Can’t you see?” Tana gave him a superior smile.

  “But you’ve been summoned.”

  “So I have. However, since I had to find my own transportation and no one has seen fit to open the door, I assume the High Witch must have withdrawn her invitation. Now that seems rude, since I made a special trip down here, but I’m sure she has other more important things on her mind.”

  Henry wrung his hands. He was the official steward of the Council House, and the situation seemed to astound him. His gaze darted from Tana to the truck, then widened when he noticed Flor. “But you know…you’re supposed to make a plea, entreat, beseech and…” Henry stopped. He took a delicate step back. Not far enough. Tana reached out and grasped his shoulder. “Henry, go tell the High Witch to open the fucking door or I’ll leave!”

  Maeve’s eyes popped open. Tana used the ‘F’ word.

  “And use those exact words.” She released his shoulder and waved her hand in front of his face.

  Maeve forced down laughter. Tana had nailed him with a compulsion. Henry was going to tell the High Witch to open the fucking door. She wished she could see Claire’s face.

  Henry ran back around the side of the building. “Three minutes, Henry,” Tana called after him.

  “Oh, Tana, that was perfect.” Maeve cut loose the laugh she’d been holding. She shoved a fist in the air and did a little victory dance.

  For the first time in her life, she thought of the weight of her grandmother’s burden. Tana had been High Witch of Elder since Maeve could remember. What would her life have been like if she had been an ordinary witch? Damned boring.

  The rune door thumped. Slow, ponderous, creaking on its ancient iron hinges, it opened to admit the former High Witch and her companions.

  “Score one for us,” Maeve said.

  Tana’s face tightened. “Let’s get this over with.” With Maeve and Flor trailing a respectful distance behind her, Aingeal Nyx Pallas, former High Witch of Elder, marched into the heart of the witches’ domain.

  Chapter Twenty-Eight

  The Council sat in ornate oak chairs, hand carved and depicting fantastic animals that supposedly lived on Ataro. The chairs were positioned in a semi-circle around Claire, the n
ew High Witch. As befitting a ruler, the High Witch’s chair sat slightly raised on a dais.

  Apparently, Claire had summoned a formal meeting. Ten witches, two from each clan, dressed in the old and ornate family regalia, waited for them. Maeve always thought of them as clowns, desperate to amuse, but failing miserably. Skye Clan’s green and yellow pointed hats and Raven Clan’s red and black ten-foot capes had to be wadded up under their feet like pillows. Others were more conservative, but colorful nonetheless.

  The Council House contained a number of rooms, but the single, circular room surrounded by a second-floor balcony, was the building’s heart. Often there were spectators on the balcony above, but not tonight. Like solid, mute totems, massive wooden pillars cut from the hearts of long extinct, giant adder trees supported the structure.

  Torches set at strategic places around the room spread light to the center, but left the area under the balcony and walls deep in shadow. At one time, shimmering crystal globes floated in an endless circle above and illuminated the room. That was before a younger Maeve discovered each globe imprisoned a radiant fire sprite as a living light. Weren’t they Iameth, too? Cruelty wasn’t unknown among her fellow witches. She couldn’t break the binding, but the glass yielded to a hammer.

  With her legs wrapped around a rail, she held out her arms and made a death defying stretch from the balcony. She shattered the first globe. The fire sprite flared and blistered her hand. When the other sprites discovered what Maeve had done, they flocked around her, bumping and jostling, pleading for freedom too. Ten minutes later, with a few minor burns, singed hair and missing eyebrows, she’d liberated them all. When the Council met next, they found a darkened room littered with broken glass. Maeve spent a month in her bedroom. She was always the first person they hunted down when something like that happened. Tana must have had a bit of sympathy, though. She’d forbade the imprisoning of any more fire sprites.

  In deference to Inaras, the Council House floor consisted of hard packed earth. The only thing new in the last hundred years was the Wandering Stone—plopped directly in front of the High Witch’s chair. Claire could have propped her feet on it if she’d wanted to. Maeve didn’t look up to see if they had repaired the damaged roof.