Torches had been lighted now from the small raft landing to the trail up to the ancient building, the light flickering ghostlike against the moss and lichen-covered walls. The corpses guarding the way seemed now almost to fade into the swamp growths themselves, although they made no real effort at concealment. She flew over them and checked in the window openings of the stone structure which was three-tiered with three squares atop each other, each slightly smaller than the one below. At one time, this had probably been a temple. To whom or what, she preferred not to know.
She was surprised to find, in the large lower chamber, what looked like living men and women working, packing up and stacking boxes. She realized with a start that their silence and their mechanical movements indicated that they were of the living dead. Scattered around the walls were numerous statues of various kinds of rock, like a museum exhibit to the races of faerie in this region.
There seemed little she could do here, but she had a thought about the raft. The odds were that of the four zombies riding it out, two at least would remain on board the yacht to stow the stuff while the others brought it back for the next load. The lack of the raft wouldn't stop the Master, but it sure as hell would slow him down even more.
She couldn't carry much of anything and fly, and she didn't weigh an awful lot, but there was something to be said for speed and momentum, and she was too determined to be repelled by what she was thinking of doing.
She waited until the raft was away from the yacht, perhaps midway back to the redoubt, and saw that there were two of the creatures polling from either side. She arose high in the air, came down as fast as she could and still maintain control, then struck one of the zombies in the back with her feet.
The collision unbalanced her for a moment and she fought to stop a tumble before she hit something, but the animated corpse had fallen face first into the swamp.
Something told the other one it was under attack, but it really didn't have the ability to figure out by whom or what, nor how or why. She managed to pull the same trick on it without any real additional danger. There was a price to be paid for using automated labor, she thought with satisfaction.
One of them picked itself up from the ooze and started doggedly toward the raft, which was now hung up against a clump of vines. As the first rays of the sun broke over the River of Dancing Gods, it was making a determined effort to get back up on the raft. Putting on her goggles, feeling her strength ebb a bit and her powers wane, she continued the rather easy job of knocking the thing back off.
Suddenly there was a great disturbance in the water, and she turned and saw a huge number of the walking dead treading forward through the swamp, carrying boxes. These were more than she could handle, although she had an idea to make for the first one or two and have the others trip over that one.
She rose up and then dived on them; but as she approached, she felt a sudden numbing paralysis. Incredibly, she seemed to stop in mid-dive, just a few feet above the heads of the army of the dead, and remain suspended there, unable to move.
Behind the zombies with the cartons came the living dead, carrying a large, dark, figure, hooded and robed, in a raised sedan chair. The zombies continued on, but the ones with the chair did not. From the folds of the cloak a hand gestured, and she felt herself gently lowered and moved forward, almost in front of the figure.
Inside the hood were two glowing eyes that seemed to have their own inner luminescence. Although it should have been clear, no face, no other details, could be seen.
"Well, the set is now complete," a voice said from under that hood, a voice that seemed somehow familiar. She had met this man, heard that voice, somewhere before—but she couldn't place it, nor was it one she knew she would be expected to recognize. Someone she'd met, but not someone she knew.
"You will make a fine addition to my sculpture garden, my dear," he commented with self-assured good humor. He was clearly pleased with himself. "Perhaps I'll place you on one side of the walk entrance and the wood nymph on the other. Yes, that would be pleasant indeed."
She found that she could speak. "The Earth Mother's strength is beyond any human's," she warned him. "You will incur her wrath at this."
"Probably, but she really can't do much so long as you're not dead, and you won't be dead, just bottled up for a time."
She trembled at this, both in anger and fear, knowing that his confidence was not misplaced. He knew the Rules and the ways of all the faerie, that was for sure.
"Come. We will go to my ship together, and I will reunite you with your friends."
She floated just ahead of him as the marchers continued on toward the yacht, frustrated that she could do nothing and feeling even more frustrated that her efforts hadn't counted for much against a really major wizard. Hell, even if the ship had sunk by now, he could probably refloat it with a wave of his hand.
But there were some things even a wizard had problems with. As the yacht came into view, it was clearly down and on its side, settled in the mud. Worse, because it had rolled slightly on its side it had pulled down much of the camouflage that concealed it from both ground and aerial surveillance. Overhead there was the loud screeching of birds that might have been eagles; certainly there was a strength and urgency to their cries. Marge felt somewhat better. Even if the Master of the Dead could easily refloat it, he didn't dare sail such a conspicuous barge, now that there was a strong chance it was known to his enemies. For the first time, things were going against him, and it gave her a feeling of real accomplishment. She had nothing to lose by taunting him.
"So what do you do now, hot shot?" she jibed. "You can still take it on the lam, but your boxes and your zombies won't move so easily."
The Master stood up in his sedan chair, shaking with anger as he stared at the crippled craft. "You did this!"
"Serves you right for buying a smuggler's craft. I think maybe you'd better decide what you can carry with you and get out of here, unless you're ready right now for a face-down with Ruddygore. I assure you he's ready for you. The whole point of this was to draw you out!"
Now, from the direction of the river, they could hear a chant that could only mean oarsmen working at great speed.
"0-re-um! Row, rum! 0-re-um! Row, rum!"
"Ruddygore loves a grand entrance," she told him. "After all, he knows he's not going to catch you unless you want to fight."
The Master of the Dead seemed to hesitate, as if weighing his alternatives. Finally he said, "All right, then! Ruddygore's day is coming, but it will be at a time and place of my choosing, not here and now."
"0-re-um! Row, rum! 0-re-um! Row-rum!" It sounded much closer now.
"I'll grant you a round, but only a round," the Master continued. "You will yet grace my garden walk, and your friends will slavishly clean and protect your image by my commands! I will not forget you. Changeling! I grant you your temporary freedom now. Have your companions and welcome. They will not be good company!"
Suddenly the force holding her in the air ceased, and she plunged into the water. When she came up, she found the zombies still standing there, like some inanimate statues. The sedan chair, however, was empty.
The sight of the undead horde still there unnerved her, though; she had no idea how far the Master had fled or whether he was sticking around to see if perhaps he could surprise Ruddygore. She took off immediately and went out to the river to greet and brief the great wizard.
The source of the chanting was a large galley, all right; but even as she cleared the trees, she saw that it was already well past the only possible landing to enter this area and continuing south at a steady pace.
Ruddygore had not yet arrived. Without knowing it, she'd bluffed the wizard out!
She grew suddenly paranoid. Just how far had she bluffed the man, and was he now on the run or waiting to see how bad the damage was? If he had remained anywhere nearby, it wouldn't take him much longer than it had taken her to discover that the Marines weren't landing after all.
&n
bsp; She decided to play it safe, at least initially, and flew up to intercept the eagles.
The great birds, she discovered, were merely hunting breakfast in the river and still hadn't much idea that anything was wrong. There were no clear signs of violence aboard the Hippogryph, after all, and it was still far too early to expect the humans on board to be up and about.
She quickly pinpointed the danger spots and filled them in on the situation. While Ruddygore was absolutely opposed to the introduction of Earth technology into Husaquahr, he was not above using it himself whenever it would give him an unfair advantage. The chief of the eagles had a small, battery-operated device around his neck; through a chain of such devices, his voice could reach all the way to Terindell.
The great leader was imposing, fully the largest bird she had ever seen, but he was not one for her to fear. After all, if you couldn't trust an eagle scout leader, who could you trust in this world?
"We have failed to contact Ruddygore directly," the great bird told her. "There was some serious trouble far to the west that drew him. A feint, I suspect, but it causes a few problems. It may be another day, perhaps two, before we can get him here. There is a force with two fairly strong wizards at our disposal on a ship not far from here, but it may take two or three hours for them to get here and get in the area."
She thought for a moment, still too charged up to feel tired. "We can't afford to wait. If the Master is still anywhere nearby and sees that Ruddygore isn't here, he'll return and remove their souls at the very least."
"You are certain he did not already take them?"
"He was too confident and in no particular hurry. But he might well return for them at any time. I must go back and find them before he gets his chance. Signal the force to come in, but we can't afford to give the Master the hours."
"What makes you think you can find them, Kauri?"
"I believe I can—smell—them. That's the best I can come to it. It's best done in the dark, when I have my full powers, but I think I can find them. There are only a few places they might be. Just give me cover if you can."
"It will be done. Go."
She headed first for the yacht, the most likely place. She was a bit upset to find that her friends had toppled over, but relieved to see that, at least from her vantage point, Audra hadn't broken, nor was there any sign of blood or other injuries. However, with the Master's control gone, they were no longer a threat to her, which counted for much. Still, they would starve or otherwise die of a number of things if she didn't restore them soon.
She was none too confident that she really could smell out captive souls, but she knew that the zombies gave off no real emotive life-force sensations. She was betting that the souls would.
The boat, however, proved barren. The next step was the unnerving one of flying low over the zombie army, still holding boxes high over their heads in a frozen processional. Again, she could not sense what she sought and she began to fear that the souls were undetectable to her.
In a little over an hour, she'd methodically traced the trail back to the ancient redoubt. She had no desire to go poking around inside; the Master had shown himself possessed of a ghoulish sense of humor and a love of booby traps. She perched on a tree limb and tried to think it out.
Think the way Macore would think, she told herself. So far, beyond the obvious, she'd been looking in the places where she would hide them.
Suppose now, just for a moment, that he never had any intention of taking the souls with him. He would have to be dependent on the ship to move any cargo, and the chase would be on, no matter whether his pursuers knew who and what they were looking for or not. Counting the zombies and his living dead assistants, he'd have far to much to carry with him while traveling by spell. What sneakier place to leave them than right here, where he knew their location and could return after the heat was off?
But that posed another problem. The redoubt, trapped and guarded or not, was sure to be eventually vanquished and searched almost stone by stone, by a force including wizards powerful enough to detect such things. That meant no hidden panels in the walls or the like. Oh, there might well be; but even if there were such things, they'd be poor hiding places.
Where, then? She took off and slowly circled the place, keeping fairly low and trying to be careful not to fly into any low-lying branches, mosses, and vines. Someplace secure and protected, but not a part of the building itself.
The second time around, she began carefully to study the ground. She had seen from the yacht the kind of camouflage the Master liked, and now she looked for signs of it.
And she found it—a matlike covering well in back of the main building and so well done that one could walk right over it and not know anything was beneath. Only the telltale outline of regular yellowing of dead vines and leaves had given it away, and even then it was only because she was specifically looking for it, and the darkness of the swamp had aided her limited day-eyesight.
She removed the matting with a great deal of effort that exhausted her. The thing was heavy. Still, she managed to uncover enough to see that it hid the remains of an ancient well that must have once served the site in its glory days. She looked back at the old ruins and judged the distance at about three hundred feet. Not bad at all if you have a zombie army. A horizontal tunnel leading from beneath the redoubt to the well itself would have been easy, and would also have provided a slick emergency exit.
She could not, however, do any more. The telltale yellow and orange bands dimly perceived deep within the well told her that the cache might be there; but, if so, it was well guarded, both by spell and perhaps by entities of some kind. All she could do was keep a watch on it, and wait for Ruddygore's wizards. She hoped they were good ones.
The wizards sent with the force shadowing the party were not what anyone expected. Their names, they said, were Agie and Magie, and they were identical twins. They were also in every sense of the word little old ladies with high-pitched, tremulous voices and thick gray hair, neither taller than Marge. They doddered and twittered about like two elderly grandmothers on a picnic and were very hard to take seriously, particularly since each of them had the annoying habit of repeating some of what the other had just said.
Captain Kolos was an officer in the Marquewood militia directly attached to the river defense forces. He looked, sounded, and acted like a professional military man, but he treated the two little old ladies with some deference and respect.
Marge was now feeling dead tired, but she wouldn't miss this for the world. "You mean those two are going to tackle whatever's in the well?"
"Don't sell them short. I admit they are—uh—eccentric, but no more than a fat old man running around these parts in a top hat and silly-looking clothes."
"Good point," she agreed. She watched as the two doddered over to the well, which had now been completely exposed by the troops, and seemed to study it. Marge and Kolos went over to them.
"What do you think?" the officer asked them.
One of them turned and put a finger to her lips, then turned back, as the two continued to circle the opening. Finally they nodded to each other and came together.
"A dirty set of spells," one said.
"A dirty set," the other agreed.
"But can you remove them?" the captain asked.
"Oh, yes. In fact, we've already done most of it."
"Done most of it," the other agreed.
"Well—can we get in?"
The nearer one nodded. "Yes, you can go in. However, I'm afraid that if you do, you'll have to clear away an obstacle."
"Clear away an obstacle," said the other.
"Huh?"
"There is a guardian held by the only remaining spell. Once we remove it, it will be instantly freed. You must remove it to go down."
"You must remove it," the other emphasized with a nod.
"It is mortal? It can be killed?"
"Oh, yes. But it is quite large, and you will not meet it directly with swords
or arrows. The only way to be certain is to burn it out."
"Burn it out," said the other.
The officer thought about it. "Well, if we do that, and the souls are in fact down there, won't we risk damaging or harming them?"
"That is a risk. If the souls are freed by melting the cork or glass, then they will not return to the body but will pass on. Fairy souls will become disembodied spirits, doomed to wander."
"Doomed to wander," agreed her sister.
Marge thought a moment, then said, "Why not use electricity?"
They all stared at her. "It is a natural phenomenon, not something that can be used like a sword or tar pot," the captain noted.
"Perhaps it can, if the kind wizards here can help. Copper is one of the best conductors of electricity. If we can get a large amount of copper wire, then a fierce thunderstorm overhead, we might be able to get the lightning to strike the wire." She suddenly stopped. "No, forget it. The thing isn't going to sit still with copper wire shot into it while we wait for a strike."
"Oh, I think this can be arranged," Agie said calmly.
"Yes, this can be arranged," her sister agreed.
What they finally settled on was a mesh net made of copper and connected by a pure copper lead to the highest point on the old ruins. The net was quite nicely woven and even somewhat flexible, primarily because it was transmuted from some of the Master's camouflage netting by the sisters.
When all was ready, the troops were positioned around the well, but not too close, and the sisters simply stood there, a bit to one side, eyes closed, hands linked. Almost immediately, it grew darker and there was a sudden chill in the air. Above, where there had been a nearly clear sky, clouds swirled in a frenzy of agitation, looking almost like paint in water. Then the very ground began to shake and tremble with the fearsome sound of thunder. Lightning licked from the clouds to the ground and danced in pencil-streams just above the treetops. Suddenly, Marge saw, one of the sisters took her mind off the storm and threw a basic nulling spell back into the well.
Vengeance of the Dancing Gods Page 12
