"But why?" Wenlann said, this time sincerely.
"I…" He began, and stopped himself short. Admit I'm in love with her? Now? No way!
"We are Elven!" he ranted. "Not only are we Elven, we are Avalon." Brief image of elf and human, in bed, making love. "It just doesn't… I don't know."
Wenlann looked like she was ready to laugh, which infuriated him further.
"I think you're afraid you wouldn't, how should I phrase this… measure up? Wolf is a human, and although he is a young man, he is a man! Is that what it is?"
And I'm not?
"You're still a virgin, aren't you?" Wenlann observed, accurately.
"It is not proper to discuss such things!" Petrus said, wondering just where in hell all this prudishness was coming from. Was it a trait of the Avalon clan, fall back on propriety and decor when the argument is in trouble?
Petrus felt his face burning. He felt his ears burning. Wenlann sat seductively on the edge of the bed, her legs crossed. Laughing at him.
"I'm going to go for a walk," Petrus announced, standing up. "Maybe Odras has a few ideas on how to find the Unseleighe."
His sudden calm amazed even him, he mused as he left the small hotel room. With a start he saw only two steeds, instead of three. From somewhere behind the motel, he heard the purring of the third one. Odras. What is he up to?
Grateful for the sudden diversion, Petrus picked his way through a gaping hole in a chainlink fence, walked over a gravel lot and found a wide side street, flanked on either side with warehouses and industrial businesses. None of them seemed to be open, and except for Odras on the beemer steed, the street was deserted.
The mage dismounted the bike and pulled a half used roll of gray duct tape out of the saddlebags; Petrus saw pieces of duct tape wrapped around the spokes, and the front forks.
This looks really bizarre, Petrus thought, wondering if he should disturb Odras at work. No, I've gotta see what this is.
Odras looked up as Petrus approached, clutching a small leather bag and the tape.
"Whatcha doin'?" Petrus asked conversationally.
"Pursuing an idea," the Mage said, glancing around. "This seemed an ideal place. No humans about." He pulled a length of tape, ripped it off, and from the leather bag extracted a crystal Petrus recognized as diaspar, or elvenstone. "Do you recall the experiment in the workshop that produced such amazing results?"
"Of course," Petrus said, then saw what he was up to. "That's elvenstone on the spokes."
"Amene and topolomite on the forks. Admittedly, this is rather crude. But the duct tape has done well."
"Little tape doesn't affect the crystals field?" Petrus asked, leaning to examine the configuration of crystals on the fork.
"Amazingly, not. In fact, it acts as a sort of buffer. Takes the edge off the generated field, as it were."
Odras completed taping the elvenstone into place on the front wheel. Now Petrus counted five stones, equally spaced around the rim. "I've discovered that the elvenstone needs to be at even intervals. Otherwise the field pulsates unevenly. Difficult to work with."
"I see," Petrus replied, not sure if he did.
"Observe," Odras said, mounting the bike. The elvensteed started of its own accord, and the Mage rode off at a leisurely pace down the street. Immediately he saw a flashing of yellow and blue light near the motor-cycle's forks as the five elvenstones passed between the amene and topolomite crystals. Though not a mage, Petrus knew this was an exciting advancement in elven technology. This is not stored node energy, this is generated node energy! Just like in the workshop at home.
At the far end of the street Odras was a mere spot. The mage paused briefly, then began riding swiftly toward Petrus, the steed's two-banger simulacrums increasing in pitch and volume as it approached.
The bike was traveling at a considerable speed as it passed, but not so fast that he couldn't see the white circle of power that had formed before the bike; tendrils of power streaked off the disc's edges and down past Odras, resembling licking flames. The mage seemed to be in full control of matters as he decelerated, turned, and rejoined Petrus.
"The optimum speed is right at fifty two miles per hour. Any slower and it doesn't stay together. Any faster, and it falls apart.
"What falls apart?" Petrus said, still uncertain of what he saw in front of the bike.
"A Gate!" Odras said, his eyes on fire with the discovery. "Or a concave disc of node power that can easily become a Gate with a little push."
Petrus smiled with satisfaction, a short lived feeling as a complication occurred to him. "But what if we don't want the Gate, or any energy coming from the front wheel? I don't think we'll want that white disc preceding us as we tootle around Albuquerque."
Odras untaped one of the crystals from the front fork "Remove the amene, put it away. The other two jewels become inert. Nothing happens. The machine doesn't work."
Petrus thought feverishly. Do we really have time to develop this? This is supposed to be a recon, not an assault, or even a scientific expedition.
Still, the possibilities…
"Nargach, what was that? That's the second one now," Japhet said, rising from a dubious state of slumber. Dry wind wafted through the tent, the tassels over the doorway dangling silently in the breeze. The other Unseleighe, some still drunk from the evenings revelry, had evidently sensed it too. They were struggling to sit up, looking confused.
Nargach appeared in the doorway. "Node energy," he said softly. Toward the city."
"Human mage?" Japhet asked hopefully.
"Unlikely… not like this," Nargach said, his gaze turning away. "A short flash, then it was gone."
"A Gate?" Japhet asked fearfully, before he could mask his emotions.
"More powerful than a Gate," Nargach replied, his eyes narrowing. "I think we may have Seleighe visitors soon."
Japhet Dhu stared at the horizon, wishing he could just go back to sleep and forget this nightmare. But with Seleighe in the area, the whole situation had changed, again; first with the arrival of Nargach's blasted demon, Ha-Sowa, now this.
It's time to change the conditions of the game, Japhet thought. Time to return to Underhill, where the Seleighe will least expect us to go. And a place, if my guess proves correct, where Ha-Sowa has no power.
This place was getting boring anyway.
Chapter Thirteen
Lucas was supposed to meet Panic that afternoon, for reasons that were still unclear. There was a bookstore and coffee house near the University that was supposed to be their contact point; the meeting was in half an hour, and if he walked west, he would be there in time. But he was having second thoughts about the whole thing, and before he could change his mind he started walking east on Central, toward home.
He looked up to see a black van going west, the driver gazing intently at him. He glanced behind him as the van passed, and his heart skipped a beat when he saw it was making a left turn into a parking lot. Fighting an urge to run, he made do with a swift walk. A second glance behind him revealed that the van had turned around, and was coming up behind him slowly.
Too slow, he thought. Too damned slow.
The van pulled up beside him, slowed to a walking pace.
Lucas hazarded a glance up, and stopped in his tracks when he saw Satanic Panic sitting on the passengers side, grinning from ear to ear.
"Where ya goin'?" Panic asked, as the van stopped altogether. "We have a meeting, remember?"
Now what? "Oh, yeah. That's right. Look, I can't make it. I've gotta…"
Panic's expression changed to sullen disapproval, and Lucas felt weak all over again. "Come here a second. I want you to meet someone."
Feeling powerless, he went over to Panic's window, sensing someone moving around inside but not seeing anyone in the driver's seat.
Panic extended his hand, as if to shake Lucas'.
"For you to leave we have to shake on it." Panic's eyes narrowed, to slits. "You do want to leave the group, don't you
?"
"Yes, I want out. This is sick shit. I don't care what I promised, I was stoned out of my mind." He reached for and grasped Panic's hand. "I want out."
"It's a deal," Panic said, rather loudly, but he wasn't letting go of Lucas' hand. His grip tightened. Lucas tried pulling away.
The van's side door flew open, and he saw a large man, wearing a hockey mask, holding a white cloth in his right hand.
It happened quickly, suddenly, and Lucas' last thought as the cloth closed over his face was that these assholes must have done this before.
Dammit to heaven and back, I knew the kid was going to flake, Damien thought. Oh well. Such things happen. Not everyone is ready to be enlightened. Not everyone has what it takes. Very very few, in fact. In the long n in it all worked out. Those who didn't quite cut the satanic mustard were often loners anyway, making them excellent gifts for the Master.
He pulled the kid into the van and dropped him on the floor, then slid the door shut. The boy was limp, hut he was still breathing, however shallowly.
"You know what to do," Damien said to Panic as he returned to the drivers seat. As Damien pulled away he heard the familiar rip rip rip of duct tape being sectioned off. "Get the hands and feet real good. One long piece is usually enough for the mouth," Damien prompted, but he needn't have worried.
For a second or two Damien caught a glimpse of the Master sitting in the van's far back seat; his face was calm and approving. He must have been sitting there the whole time, invisibly watching his work. This had happened before; it was the Masters way of testing him. Then the Master vanished, but Damien knew he wasn't seeing things.
To the cabin, he thought gleefully. There is much to do.
Once Nargach dismissed the kenned tents of their temporary homes, the ground beneath them looked as if nothing had touched it. The mage also refreshed the glamorie on the steeds, renewing their sharpened image as Harley-Davidsons, before they set out on their short journey to Damien's cabin. Mort rode on the back of Japhet's steed.
It will be most gratifying to return home, where Nargach cannot toy with my clan. I may even suggest that Nargach stay here, to make his own way. I can do without a mage for a time, and sooner or Later I will come across another. Nargach must go.
But to rid myself of him as only an Unseleighe might, that is the challenge. Short of destroying him outright, I must cast him from the clan without his even knowing, while not losing face in the process. Let him stay here with his feline plaything. I'd rather he make his own kingdom than try to take mine!
Such as it is…
Turn off here," Mort said, indicating a dirt road that seemed to go nowhere. "It's a large section of land."
Indeed it was a vast place, Japhet discovered as his steed deftly negotiated the dirt and gravel, something an ordinary two wheeler would have found difficult. Vast and hilly, the land would conceal them well, better than the ravine they had just abandoned. And we may stay here with the blessings of the owner. I can't think of a better stage upon which to fortify my forces.
An unassuming adobe building appeared ahead of them. A black vehicle was parked in front of it, a nasty construct of cold iron the elves went out of their way to avoid. Their clan of five pulled up and parked in front of the cabin as if they owned it, while Mort disappeared temporarily, apparently to alter his appearance.
A human appeared in the doorway, looking frightened as the bikers dismounted, regarding their surroundings with displeasure.
Japhet waited for some time, eying the human suspiciously, noting that he didn't seem all that impressive. Has Mort finally erred in selecting a weak partner for us? He reminded himself that their choice was limited by the sparse population of this land.
After a long moment, during which nothing had happened, Japhet grew impatient. Where is the little devil he wondered.
Still, no Mort. The leader was considering taking the matter into his own hands when a cloud of acrid, sulfuric smoke appeared between the elves and the human. From the cloud stepped Mort. The Unseleighe stifled a laugh when he saw that Mort had become a larger, taller version of himself, wearing a black suit. He had even assumed the pointed ears of the Unseleighe. Such a handy little helper Mort is.
Yet after Japhet had briefly studied the demon's new form, Mort's size surprised him. It was not mere illusion, but an accurate depiction of what he had made himself, which told Japhet that he had gained considerable power. In fact, in this form, and with the power he saw lurking beyond it, Mort could have challenged Ha-Sowa instead of running from her like a coward.
No time to muse over what this means, Japhet thought, and turned his attention to the exchange between Mort and the pathetic human.
"M-Master," the human stuttered. "Is this your true image?"
Mort hazarded a wry look back at Japhet, one which both assured and amused the leader. I know that look. He's going to toy with him.
"Close enough, for talking purposes," Mort replied, but his voice was deep and amplified, the voice of a god. "These are my demons, my makers of evil. You will afford them the same respect you afford me, always, and absolutely. Do you understand, Damien?"
"Yes, Master," Damien said solemnly. "I am your servants' servant."
Mort nodded appreciatively, while Japhet suppressed outright laughter. Ah, so this is the mysterious Damien, Japhet thought, somewhat disappointed. I'd expected more.
Mort continued, in his grand way, "I have summoned you to do my bidding. Have you the gift I requested?"
With some irritation Japhet saw that he had not been kept informed of the deals Mort had made with him. What gift?
"Master, we have not succeeded in fulfilling your request," the human said. "Until we do… we have this to offer. Please, come inside."
Japhet noted with further apprehension that Mort easily decreased his size just enough to fit in the dwellings doorway. Again, another display of power the Unseleighe didn't dunk he had.
So let's see what gift they have for us, Japhet considered.
The cabin was deeper than it was wide, and much larger inside than he had expected. A stench filled the cabin, which the leader found refreshing.
"I'm afraid I'm lacking in electricity and water," Damien said, as Mort examined the cabin as if he were a military officer inspecting his soldiers.
"I am not concerned with such trivial matters," Mort said, in that deep, booming voice. "What do you have for me, my servant?"
"In here," Damien said quickly, pushing open a door. Inside was a crude table and a soiled mattress, upon which lay a human boy, bound with gray cloth around arms, legs and mouth. The boy was sleeping soundly, and Japhet had the distinct impression he had been drugged into that condition.
"What's this?" Mort exclaimed in obvious displeasure. "Do you mean to say this child is your gift?"
"Master, it is what you always wanted…" Damien said, then looked as if he wished he could recall the words. "Of course, if there's someone else, we can of course—"
"I have already made my request," Mort said, in a low, threatening voice. "What has delayed you in obtaining the human known as Wolf?"
"But, Master, we must wait for the proper time," Damien replied weakly.
"The proper time is now." Mort said "And I can wait no longer. You will obtain that which I desire, or I will find someone worthy of my favor. Do you understand?"
Damien bowed his head submissively. "Yes, Master, I hear and I obey."
"Before midnight," Mort said, as Damien made his way for the front door. "Meanwhile my demons will remain in this humble trash heap you call an abode until your return. Then we will decide your worthiness."
Already Damien was stumbling toward the van. "Yes, yes I will…" he said, the vehicle's wheels kicking sand and gravel as he drove off.
"Well done, Mort," Japhet replied, with a chuckle. "I don't think I could have done better myself. Perhaps you would do well to stay here."
Mort turned, changing back to his original appearance before he addre
ssed his leader.
"You mean here, in this world? What have you in mind? Are you taking the clan elsewhere?"
Semion and Domnu were listening with interest, as were Ruadan and Nargach, who seemed appropriately surprised and suspicious.
"It is time to return to Underhill."
"Is that so," Nargach said. "What has prompted this… swift decision?"
"By no means did I come to this conclusion hastily," Japhet said, returning the mage's hard look with one of his own. "I have a plan. Until now, we have reacted to the Seleighe's defenses."
"You mean fled?" Nargach said.
" Tactical retreat' is the phrase I would choose. You may call it whatever you like. This time, however, we have an advantage. We have an opportunity now to take hostages, starting with that child in the cabin."
"The Seleighe have arrived," said Nargach. Taking a hostage will only give them a reason to intensify their chose. What strategy is that?"
"You're not afraid of these lesser elves, are you, my dear Nargach?" Japhet chided mockingly.
"I do not fear the Seleighe. They are all children compared to us. I simply question whether we should lie low in this land, consolidate our power as originally planned, and then act."
You mean, Japhet thought, you wish to remain here so that you can consolidate your forces, using Ha-Sowa as a foundation!
"Your father did quite well here," Nargach continued. "Why do you question your own abilities to do the same?"
No, Nargach, you will not shift the topic that easily.
"If it is your precious demon you are concerned about, she is more than welcome to accompany us to Underhill."
The mage replied with stony, hostile silence.
"That is, if she can go with us. You created her. You did allow for contingencies like this, did you not?"
"Ha-Sowa is tied to this land. If we return to our rightful home in Underhill, she will remain here."
"I see," Japhet said. "So it is not an issue."
"Gentlemen, gentlemen, gentlemen," Mort said smoothly. "Forgive me, but I have neglected to mention, there are only three Avalon Seleighe. I have been so preoccupied with handling this human cretin Damien that it completely slipped my mind."
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