Bone Dance

by Lee Roland

  “Get the chains off, and let’s get out of here,” Maeve ordered Erik as they approached Raymond. “This place feels like a bomb, ready to go off.”

  Erik unlocked the chains binding Raymond. They all gaped as tiny Flor snatched the heavy chains and tossed them to the side like fine cotton threads.

  Maeve’s palms itched, and she rubbed them against her jeans. She glanced at the pile of troops. Why were they all together like that? The should have been by the door, desperate to escape. Then she knew what they’d missed. “Erik, are you sure these guys are still mostly human? I mean, if they’re already dead, like the servants in the house…”

  Erik’s eyes widened, and he whirled to stare at the troops.

  Maeve groaned as they grabbed their guns and rose to their feet. They weren’t human, or at least there wasn’t much humanity left in them. The gas hadn’t killed them any more than it had killed Raymond. They’d gone to the side of the room and laid down together so they wouldn’t shoot each other when they opened fire. Were they waiting on a deliberate final order?

  “Where’s Anderson?” Harlan stepped forward and shouted at them.

  One of them stepped forward. His mouth worked, flapping open, closed. Trying to form words. He swayed and stumbled.

  The gas had affected him. Could Harlan control him?

  “Where’s your orders, Anderson. Who signed them?”

  Confusion crossed Anderson’s face, then he shook his head. He fell to his knees, tears running down his face. Perhaps a bit of humanity remained unpolluted by Sethos’ drug.

  “Anderson,” Harlan said, urgency in his voice, “Let me help you.”

  Anderson lowered his head, then raised it, the answer in his eyes. He jumped to his feet and raised his gun.

  Maeve drew a deep breath. She hoped Tana wouldn’t be too sad. To die and return to fight again, her vow to Inaras. Raymond slammed into her. She staggered back, caught him, and held him in her arms. Harlan and Erik were on either side of her. The first chatter of automatic rifles skittered off the walls.

  The room abruptly filled to capacity with a dragon—a dragon who wasn’t Raymond.

  Chapter Thirty-Six

  Harlan grabbed Maeve and Raymond. He dragged them toward the door. Erik joined them, out of the way of the writhing alien beast, screaming troops, and blasting weapons. The intense chatter of automatic weapons filled the room, barely heard over a thunderous reptilian roar. Claws scraped the steel walls like a banshee’s wail. It seemed to go on and on…it stopped. Silence fill the room.

  Maeve, Erik, Harlan, and Raymond waited in the doorway and watched as the dragon ponderously rotated to face them. A dragon like none Maeve had ever seen—except in a painting on the wall of a Chinese restaurant. No wings, cream and saffron scales, four legs on a seventy-foot, slender snake-like body that twisted and struggled against the confining walls. Dragon eyes, hypnotic spheres gazed at the amazed group standing in the doorway. Golden eyes, brushed with streaks of silver.

  Maeve sighed and pushed aside her injured feelings. She reached out and touched the dragon’s aura.

  “You could have trusted me, Flor.”

  “Forgive me, sister, but I am not my own mistress in all things.”

  Raymond staggered toward Flor, and she changed back and caught him as he reached her.

  Flor’s halter and hip band lay in front of Maeve. She picked it up and noted the broken clasps had been rejoined. This wasn’t her friend’s first time out as a dragon. She walked over to the pair locked in each other’s arms.

  “Flor, what’s Naginni mean?” Maeve handed her the outfit.

  Flor smiled as she dressed. “I believe shape-changer is the direct translation.”

  The prophecy had said the females would return. Maybe Flor and Raymond would produce a little girl with wings.

  A jaguar’s scream shattered relief and hope. Maeve whirled at the sound.

  Harriet lay in a corner, wings and feathers askew, face down in a pool of blood. Orcus loomed over her like a shadow.

  Maeve ran to the harpy and knelt beside her.

  Flor shoved Orcus aside and joined Maeve. “Did I…I told her to fly—”

  “No…wait…let me see.” Maeve moved her hands gently over Harriet’s body. Harriet stirred. Slipping her fingers under the harpy, she felt for wounds and broken bones. When she reached the area above Harriet’s leg, Harriet cried out.

  Orcus snarled in Maeve’s ear.

  Flor grabbed the jaguar and began to soothe him.

  “She’s been shot,” Maeve said. “Hold him,” she told Flor. She didn’t want Orcus chewing her face off.

  Harriet’s wings seemed to be okay, so Maeve folded them. She slipped one hand under the harpy’s body and the other under her head. “Raymond, hold her legs so they don’t move.”

  When she lifted Harriet, she breathed a sigh of relief. Most of the blood hadn’t come from her. One bullet had entered and exited above the leg joint. Maeve cradled the harpy in her arms.

  Harriet opened her eyes.

  “You’re nasty.” Maeve kissed the tiny blood smeared face.

  Orcus came and sniffed, then changed back to a raven and settled on Flor’s shoulder.

  Maeve rose with Harriet cradled in her arms.

  “We need to free the others,” Raymond said. He seemed a little more alert now.

  “Others?” Maeve glanced sharply at Erik.

  “I haven’t seen any others,” Erik said.

  “I’ll show you.” Raymond hurried to one of the doors. “I heard them talking earlier.”

  When he pointed out the room Erik opened the door, and they found the ogre Queen Shost and her son Pong. Shost held a broken arm close to her side, and that, along with her swollen face, said she’d put up a fight. Pong’s leg twisted sideways, but he held his mother upright. She swayed and leaned against him.

  “What happened, Shost?” Maeve hoped Tana could heal Shost’s severely battered face.

  “Sethos sent soldiers to take our children.” Shost’s rough voice rumbled out of her throat. “He said Bathos agreed.” Anger seemed to energize the queen, and she straightened. “I honor no such bargain.”

  Maeve sucked in a hard breath. “The children?”

  “They escaped. Into the mountain.” She put her unbroken arm around Pong and hugged him. “My son fought by my side.”

  Pong grunted and drooled.

  “Come on,” Maeve said. “Let’s leave this tomb.”

  “This way.” Erik pointed toward one of the innumerable doors. “It leads to the loading dock.”

  Through the maze of halls, up and then down stairs, they came to the loading area. Large roll up doors covered each bay.

  “Flor,” Maeve said, “can you change and carry all of us? I expect you can run faster than we can.”

  Flor eyed Erik.

  He returned her gaze. “You don’t have to take me, Flor.

  “Why not?” Maeve asked, although she already knew the answer. He wanted to kill Sethos. “When he finds out Raymond is gone—”

  “He’ll come looking for me. I’m ready for him.”

  “No, you’re not! You can’t—”

  “Will you keep your word?” Erik’s demand cut into to her.

  Would she? She glanced at the others. They had no idea what she’d promised. They stood silent, watching. But obviously unhappy.

  “Okay, Erik. I’ll keep my word—as long as it doesn’t hurt anyone but Sethos or his goons. What do you want?”

  He leaned closer to her. “Let them go and stay with me. I have a plan, but I need help.”

  “No!” Flor grabbed Maeve’s arm.

  Harriet whimpered.

  “Sorry, Harriet.” Flor released Maeve. “Let’s go to Tana. She can get the Witches Council to—”

  “To what?” Erik almost shouted. “Claire has those gutless magicians wrapped around her fingers. The bitch—”

  Harlan started toward him.

  “This isn’t a good time t
o argue,” Raymond inserted. Dragons rarely spoke, but when they did, they went to the heart.

  Maeve smiled down at Harriet. “Let Raymond carry you, sweetheart.”

  “’Kay.” Harriet sighed and closed her eyes. She moaned a little when she settled in Raymond’s arms.

  “Get her to Tana as quick as you can.”

  “Maeve, are you sure?” Flor sounded desperate. “This is bad. Immal, Tana and I are not powerless.”

  “No, not powerless, but this is something else I have to do myself.”

  Flor said nothing. She’d accepted Maeve’s decision, as she had accepted every pronouncement, every command, since the night they met.

  Maeve had asked her charges in Jessupville before they headed to the gap. “Who’s in charge here?” They had answered. “It’s you, Maeve. It was always you, Maeve. Always.”

  Maeve gave her orders. “Raymond can contact the dragons. See if Yarrow can get the others to help. Flor, change shape in here so we can help Shost and Pong mount. You can hold them on, can’t you?”

  Flor looked insulted, then relented, wrapped both arms around Maeve, and held her tight.

  “Be careful my friend.” Flor’s mind whisper carried love and worry. She handed Maeve the obsidian knife. “This belongs to the High Witch of the Na’thumatal.”

  “You are the High Witch of the Na’thumatal, Flor. Last of the Man…whatever.”

  The little witch-dragon shook her head. “No, I’m not High Witch. But I speak for her. I give it to you. It has a power of its own.”

  Flor hugged her again, then walked away and changed to the sinuous dragon form. She waited by the roll up door. Maeve slipped the obsidian knife in her belt. “Harlan, you said Claire sent you to help me?”

  He nodded.

  “Consider it done. If you have any troops who are human, any who will obey you, not Sethos, I’d suggest that you tell them what’s happening and get them ready to fight—or run. I don’t care if they run. They didn’t ask for this magic shit, and they shouldn’t have to die for it.”

  “I’ll do what I can.” Harlan headed out the door toward the barracks.

  Getting Shost mounted was difficult, since her injuries were worse than they’d first appeared. Once the door opened, Flor rushed out—gliding like a snake across the field toward Tana’s.

  Chapter Thirty-Seven

  Maeve followed Erik back into the steel-tunneled maze. “You’ve got a plan?”

  “Of sorts.” He stopped and opened a door, then gestured for her to enter first.

  She studied him. His face was a handsome mask, but in his eyes, she could see hunger and burning need. She wanted to believe the need was to destroy the man who tortured him and killed his mother.

  As she entered, a light came on. Electrical panel boxes covered one wall of an otherwise empty room. Erik followed and closed the door behind them. “I know you can’t see in the dark, so stay close.” He crouched down in one corner, and a three by three section of wall popped off into his hands.

  “How do you know I can’t see in the dark?” Maeve asked.

  “I heard Claire tell Sethos.”

  Maeve didn’t like that. “So what else did she tell him?”

  Erik grinned. “She said you were young, foolish, promiscuous, and incompetent as a witch.”

  So, that’s what Mommy thought of her willful, rebellious daughter. Not that Maeve expected anything else. “I’m not completely incompetent.”

  “Earthquake, flood, bridge… I’d hate to see what would happen if you knew what you were doing.” Erik ducked his head and crawled into the hole.

  Maeve snarled, made sure the .38 was snug in its holster, and dropped to her knees. Damn, she hated tight places.

  The steel tube turned out to be larger than she thought. She slid along on her stomach with relative ease. She had no way of judging how far they went. She knew they’d stopped when she ran head first into Erik’s boots.

  He cursed under his breath as he struggled to open another passage. She wondered if she would find herself sliding out backward when light spilled into the tube and he moved on. She followed and found herself on a metal platform surrounded by a softly humming maze of piping.

  Erik laid down on the platform, reached between the pipes, and dragged out an object the size of a shoebox. “This won’t take long.” He opened one side of the box and exposed a mass of wires and gauges.

  He moved wires around, cut one and anchored it to another. Finally, he inserted an inch-long strip of metal among the wires. He carefully closed the lid and placed the box back into its nest among the pipes.

  “What was that?” Maeve asked.

  “A bomb. It’ll take out the main supports on this corner of the building.”

  “Oh.”

  Erik opened another panel on the wall opposite their entry point, and the long crawl began again. By the time they were on their fourth one, Maeve’s elbows and knees ached, and she’d banged her head more times than she could count.

  She grabbed Erik’s arm when he tried to enter another passage. “Just what am I supposed to do to help you?”

  He smiled, and she jerked her hand away.

  “The oracle in the desert I told you about. Sethos sent me in first. That’s how frightened he was. You know what she told me? Before I could ask, she said, ‘When the time comes, keep her close, she will save you and give you your heart’s desire.’ ’’

  “And you think this oracle meant me? Right! That’s why you mauled me and tried to kill me.” Maeve glared into his eyes. “If I had your heart’s desire in my hand, I’d throw it on the floor and stomp on it.”

  He laughed. It sounded genuine. “Let’s go. The timers are set.”

  Erik moved on and she followed, not that she had a choice—she was hopelessly lost. She didn’t speak to him after that. How could he have such faith in her? To believe an oracle? Sethos believed too. Why should Erik not do the same? Or maybe he thought he was going to die and didn’t want to go alone.

  Raymond, Flor, and Harriet had faith in her, and she’d led them safely home. Haven and Yarrow—hard to tell with dragons, but their auras said they expected her to take action too. All she could do was her best. She’d said her final prayers several times since Flor had picked her up at the truckstop, and she would probably say them again today.

  The next stop involved a bigger box.

  Maeve sat cross-legged on the floor and watched Erik work inside the thing. When he finished, she asked, “Why did Sethos marry Claire? Other than she’s intelligent, beautiful, and powerful. What was his motive?”

  “Marriage brought her power and autonomy. But he wanted a child.”

  “You mean Claire…him—”

  “No. That’s not possible.” He moved closer to Maeve. He brushed a hand along the side of her face. She knocked his wrist away.

  “You saw him, Maeve. That body is not really his. It’s a living shell he possessed. It’s not human, not capable…he wanted Claire and me to give him a child. I’m the last of his actual original physical bloodline. He wanted a child to use. To possess. Like he wanted to do to my sister. That’s why mother killed her first.”

  Interesting—and disturbing given the conversation’s direction. Not an expert on magic, but Maeve did know the degree of magical power that would be required for permanent possession. Tana couldn’t do it. Could Claire?

  “It didn’t work,” Erik said. “Probably because Claire and I hated each other so much. He enjoyed the show, though, and Claire is…attractive. I didn’t mind certain parts of it.” He stopped and eyed her with caution. “The next step is supposed to be you and me.”

  “Oh, hell no!”

  Erik raised an eyebrow, then slid into the tube.

  Claire and Erik? A child? Gross, but understandable. Witches sought power. It was in their nature. Having sex with Erik might not appeal to Claire, but a child with the obvious magical bloodlines would. Maeve would die first. The bigger question? Would Claire allow a child of
hers to be possessed by a monster? Yes, she’d abandoned Maeve, but allowing such a thing was beyond obscene, worse than murder.

  When they finished, they exited into the room where the journey began. Erik checked the hall, then led her out. It didn’t take them long to reach an elevator. This one opened onto a balcony over looking one of the large steaming vats. Maeve remembered Tana’s words regarding the factory.

  “What floor are we on?”

  “First level below ground. We have to go down, though. That’s where you get to help me.”

  Maeve shivered.

  Erik opened another door and entered. She started to follow, but he motioned her back. She heard him moving, and in a moment, he came out with a box similar to the shoebox bombs. This one was three feet by three feet and sat on a pallet with wheels. He rolled the thing toward the elevator, then stopped and went back into the room. He came out carrying a toolbox. “Now we go downstairs,” he said.

  “How far down?”

  “There are two levels that have troops, the third, you saw those, and down to the fifth—that’s where he keeps most of them. It’s cold, and he doesn’t have to use refrigeration. I don’t have a bomb big enough for the fifth, so we’re going to take out the fourth. When the factory blows, it should take care of level three too. But I don’t really know how well it’s protected.” Erik pushed the button on the elevator, and the door gave a soft hiss as it opened.

  “Tana says there’s only one floor below this building, and it’s set on solid rock.”

  “Does Tana know everything?” Erik pushed the box into the elevator.

  “Everything in Elder.”

  He shook his head. “That’s not true. Come on. I’ll show you.”

  Maeve stepped inside the elevator and leaned against the back wall.

  Erik held the door. “Pay attention,” he instructed. “You only went down to the third floor last time.”

  Pay attention? How? She opened herself to witch-sight. Nothing. She touched the magic. Nothing unusual there either.

  He punched a button, and the elevator descended.

  Maeve recognized it. A sensation so familiar she wouldn’t have noticed had he not pointed it out. The Troll Bridge was a gate, the entry to Elder she’d crossed all her life. She passed through another gate on her way to the Circle of Souls. Some of the levels below the factory were in another world and the elevator, like the river bridge, a vehicle for entry.