CHAPTER 14
“Aarrrrrr, it’s locked,” Gregory grunted in frustration as he attempted to break through the door.
“I’ve got this,” Elizabeth said, trying to get past the Lascion who was now checking around the doorframe of the solid metal barrier.
“You think it’s dead?” Gregory asked, nodding toward where the feran’s body lay.
“Has been since it was converted. Just not in the way you mean it. But don’t worry. We’ll be out of here before it gets up.”
Turning his attention back to the substantial door, Gregory addressed a more important issue, “Do you think the door blocked the noise we made?”
“Probably more effectively than it will us.” The witch smiled up at him as she slipped between Gregory and the door. “If you would give me some room to work here?”
“My brute force has proven to be ineffective,” Gregory said suavely, “so I gladly make way for your persuasive touch.”
“Thank you, kind sir.” She smiled pertly up at him. “Now, back to business.” Three seconds later, the locks gave way and the thick door swung toward them.
‘It’s massive,’ Elizabeth thought as she pulled it open. Reassured by the thickness of the walls, she let go of her concern that the gunfight would have alerted those within.
“This place is built to be soundproof,” she told Gregory. “Though possibly, it was the noises from within the building that the builders wanted to keep from getting out.”
‘They must be planning on doing some serious torture in this place,’ she shivered. The stillness of the hallway supported her hope that no one had heard their little skirmish.
“We need to find the center. If this is the building where they’re holding your father, it’ll have to have a large open space for the magic to reach its zenith. These concrete walls absorb too much energy. What I’m feeling is powerful, which means it has had plenty of space to build up before encountering the damping power of these blocks.”
“I’m good at mazes,” Gregory said, taking the lead. “Follow me.”
“Keep that shotgun ready. And remember, you’ll only get one shot before everyone in here will be on our tails.”
“Got it. Oh, and Elizabeth, I tried some magic on the door. It fizzled badly,” Gregory offered.
“The block is definitely powerful. The magic disrupting one’s will is even more so.” Elizabeth touched his arm and looked up at him. “Greg, whatever we find in here, please remember that when we find your father.”
Gregory paused briefly before nodding. His mind feared what he would find. His heart could not bear thinking about what might have happened to his father. To distract himself from those worrisome thoughts, he focused on the feran.
“Wish I had a sword,” he said before he realized he had spoken aloud. “Oh, umm, I was just thinking that, if I could lop off a head in close combat, I could move through the building quietly taking out the feran one at a time. The others would be none the wiser.”
“A sword would be good,” Elizabeth agreed.
The Lascion cringed at the witch’s words, wishing he had kept his mouth shut. ‘Right, like I could even make it through one of those brutes without this gun.’
Fortunately, there were no swords to be had. Therefore, there was no reason to tell Elizabeth that close combat was not something he excelled in.
***
How he managed to find what they were looking for was beyond her. The side door had opened into a long corridor. They had passed three doors and one staircase before Gregory took the second set of stairs up two flights. On the third floor, he turned right, and then right again after passing several unmarked doors. Half way down the next hall, they climbed up a single flight of stairs leading up to a short hallway with several doors.
Gregory went straight to the third door. This door was also unusually thick, and when it opened, Elizabeth looked thoughtfully at the Lascion. She remembered how easily he had worked with the witch’s pendulum. ‘Interesting,’ she thought, then forced her attention back to the job at hand.
They were in the upper viewing section overlooking a large gymnasium. Dropping down, they crawled on hands and knees to the wooden railing at the edge of the balcony. Cautiously peering over the top, they saw a large iron cage below in the center of the gym’s wooden floor.
The large man within the cage was obviously a Lantian, though, at the moment, his red eyes, distended jaw, extended canines and claws, told her that he was under the influence of the curse.
“He’s on the hunt!” Elizabeth whispered, shocked by what she was seeing.
Stunned, Gregory opened his mouth, but Elizabeth was ready. Putting her hand over his mouth, she whispered, “Shh, look at me. Look at me. Stay down. There’s at least eight feran down there. If you alert them, we’re in trouble.”
Breathing heavily, Gregory gave a quick nod, but Elizabeth was not sure she should remove her hand. She did so slowly, keeping her eyes locked on his. Then they both turned back to the horror unfolding below. Like a caged lion, Urik paced, back and forth as if stalking demons.
A plan began to form in her mind as Elizabeth scanned their surroundings. The wish that Gregory expressed came back to her.
‘The chairs?’ she speculated. Except for their cushions, the chairs sitting near them were made of metal. ‘Probably an alloy,’ she figured, calculating how best to create what she needed.
‘First, the correct length. A foot would do, but three feet will be safest.’ Examining the nearest chair, she found two sections that gave her the needed length.
‘They'll do,’ she judged as she focused her craft at one end of the two pieces. The molecular bonds loosened and separated as she rubbed her hands across them.
‘Child’s play,’ she thought as she flowed her energy to mold the elements. She smiled at the results. Just then a roar erupted from below.
Worriedly, Elizabeth peered over the railing. The girl they had seen outside with the two feran was now just outside the cage. Held by the two, her struggle was frenzied; adrenaline overriding the fatigue that had surely set in by now.
“Oh no,” Elizabeth gasped as she looked over at her wide-eyed companion. The set of his jaw told her that Gregory knew he was about to get a firsthand demonstration of the curse that plagued the Lantians.
It had been years since his father and uncle had lectured him on the subject. Even so, their words came back distinctly, filling his mind with dread.
“The war took the life spark from all that survived,” Gregory remembered his father saying. “The gods shared theirs with us, but it came with a cost. Twelve times a year our blood boils excruciatingly through our veins. To our horror, we found there was but one way to ease our pain—the sweet taste of human flesh. For the longest time, that way became the only way.”
A door opened down below them, and about a dozen feran filed in and surrounded the cage. ‘They’re coming in just to watch!’ The witch gritted her teeth.
The scene below transfixed both witch and Lascion as the human female was attached to a harness, and lifted up and over the cage. At a point directly above the center of the cage, the bars above opened slightly, the harness released, and the girl, arms and legs flailing, dropped the ten feet to the floor of the cage.
The Lantian didn’t move. He stood where he was by the bars, his eyes focused on the spot where the girl lay.
Stunned by the fall, she slowly began to recover. Then, in a shot, she managed to get to her feet, frantically searching for a way out.
His roar reverberated throughout the room as the Lantian struck. Bones crunched, blood flew, and the screams died away, but not before Gregory vomited. The witch forced herself to refocus on the two pieces of metal.
***
Elizabeth’s project didn’t take long. Especially since she never allowed herself to waver from it once she returned to the work at hand. Hers was truly an act of avoidance. Looking below was out of the question. Turning to Gregory was also no longer an
option.
There wasn’t anything she could say or do that would lessen Gregory’s horror and grief. So instead, she reshaped the metal, reformed the molecules, and sharpened the edges. In short order, she had two silver swords. Only then did she look up from her work—choosing first to look below.
The cage was littered with gnawed bones and pools of blood. Off to one side of the round prison, huddled in his blood-stained clothing, the Lantian clutched at his hair with bloody hands. His uncontrollable urge now replaced by grief and shame.
Quickly, Elizabeth looked past the old one searching for his guards. Though she could not see directly beneath her, she knew that most of the guards had left after the show. Her count of six gave her hope.
‘We can do this,’ she reasoned. Then, with no further excuse to delay, she turned to Gregory. “We need to surprise them if we are to rescue your father.”
Gregory nodded. Then he looked down at the defeated man in the cage. “Greg,” she said, “try to understand that the hunt is avoided only by will. In this place, all willpower has been stripped away.”
“He would have—”
“What’s done is done. We need to move before the situation changes. Right now, there are only six guards below. If we can take them silently, we’ll have a chance.”
“But how?” Gregory asked. Elizabeth placed one of her makeshift swords into his hands. “What’s this?”
“The silver sword you requested, my liege.”
***
With their presence still a secret, Elizabeth believed they had a good chance of success. Further sweetening the odds was the witch’s plan of attack.
“They’ll never be looking for it,” she whispered, trying to bolster Gregory’s shaken state. She was more concerned about what Gregory was feeling and thinking than the coming battle.
It was a concern she did not have time to address. Hoping he would be able to hang in there, she filled him in on how she planned to surprise the feran.
“Are you sure about this? I thought flying was governed by magic,” Gregory asked, after hearing how they were going to come at the guards from above.
“We won’t be flying. We’ll, at most, be floating or, what you would probably call, gradually falling. I can still change molecular relationships. By doing so, we’ll be lighter than air. Once in position, I’ll bring the relationships back to normal, slowly at first, until it’s time to pounce. Essentially we’ll float down and drop on an unsuspecting feran.”
“I don’t know,” Gregory said, sounding even more skeptical.
“Trust me, we can do this,” Elizabeth said. The adrenalin rushing through her was making it hard to keep her voice low.
“That’s not what worries me,” Gregory sighed. “It’s more,” he paused before getting to his concern. “I’m a professor, not a … Are you sure I can handle three feran?”
“Yes … I’m sure,” Elizabeth answered, hoping she wasn’t asking too much of him. “You’re a Lascion. That gives you a big edge over them.” She knew he had the physical aptitude, it was just that those skills had never been used.
“Okay then,” Gregory said quietly, standing and moving over to the balcony railing. “Let’s do this.”
Elizabeth lifted herself and the Lascion into the air, then maneuvered them so that Gregory descended down over the three to the right of the cage. At the same time, she dropped down on the three to the left.
If it weren't for their sense of smell, the feran would have never known what hit them. It was her scent that gave her away. As she descended toward her first victim, the feran’s nose started to twitch. As its head whipped around searching for the source of the odor, Elizabeth dropped, swinging her sword as she dove past the creature.
The feran’s head hit the floor an instant after her feet touched down. By then she was at full speed, darting to the second and then the third.
Orienting her awareness toward Gregory’s position before the third head could bounce, Elizabeth’s heart pounded in fear. Two of the feran were still standing. Worse yet, Gregory was on the defensive.
Reacting with reflexes honed by the hours of combat training her father had insisted upon, Elizabeth lightened her body and leaped into the air. Like a giant hop one might make on the Moon, the witch leaped completely over the cage.
Her aim was to land behind one of the two and lop off its head before it knew she was there. She missed her mark, crashing instead onto the feran’s head and shoulders. The mistake sent the witch sprawling off away from the cage. The feran merely staggered a few feet before righting itself.
Regaining its balance, the creature glanced at the woman lying on her back a few feet away, then at the Lascion flailing his sword at its comrade’s claws. With a smile, it chose the woman and turned toward her.
As he stepped forward, something grabbed him from behind and slammed him backward into the bars of the Lantian’s cage. Infuriated, the feran tried to twist away, but something was holding it. The feran, feeling the pressure around its neck, knew its peril. The old one they had been guarding had caught it from behind. With that came the knowledge that it would never escape.
Lying ten feet away, Elizabeth had seen Urik reach through the bars and grab the feran. A moment later the feran’s head fell earthward, ripped from its body by the force of vengeance.
As the creature fell, Urik’s eyes met Elizabeth’s and were instantly lowered, but not before the witch made sure he saw her smile and nod.
“Gregory!” Elizabeth scrambled to her feet just in time to see him stumbled and fall. In a flash, the feran was on him.
“No!” Elizabeth screamed, certain the creature’s claws would beat her to the Lascion.
CHAPTER 15
The distance was too great to reach him in time. Magic was still out of the question. That left but one option. Elizabeth didn’t hesitate.
Her on-the-spot plan was far-fetched and untried. Living tissue could only expand but so far. What popped into the witch’s mind was a complete separation of the hypothalamic cellular structure. A death-blow to the feran made possible only because it was already dead. At least, that was the hope as Elizabeth reached out and manipulated electrons and protons.
From thought to finish, no more than a couple seconds elapsed. Surely it was time enough to save Urik’s son. Only the creature didn’t drop. Nor did its head explode. Instead, the uniformed feran, its back to Elizabeth, continued to sit atop the Lascion.
“Do something!” the voice from inside the cage begged.
Urik looked horrible. Still, he was a Lantian and tough as nails. He would recover. Elizabeth’s doubt was for his son. Thinking her effort hadn’t worked, she became a blur of motion closing the distance between her and Gregory as only a motivated witch could do. Sword ready, Elizabeth launched herself at the feran just as the creature lifted off its target.
Feeling as if she was in slow motion, Elizabeth could have sworn she saw the feran float straight up as if it were a broom readying for flight. Just as slowly, Elizabeth flew straight for a few feet before her trajectory started to descend. Quickly, Elizabeth recalculated the two paths.
The two would pass each other when they were above Gregory, but at that point, she would be too low to swing her sword at its neck. The best she could hope for was to ram into the feran’s body. Hoping it would be enough to knock the creature away from Gregory, Elizabeth closed her eyes and braced for the impact.
Time lurched forward for her, returning the two bodies to normal speed. But with her eyes closed, the witchling had no idea the feran was now spinning off to the left; she was missing the feran altogether.
Expecting to crash into the steeled muscles of a monster, the softer impact came as a shock. She opened her eyes as she heard a groan. Lying beneath her was the man she had sought to save.
“Elizabeth, what are you doing? That hurt!” Gregory protested.
“Where’s the feran?” she yelled.
“There,” Gregory said, nodding his head to where
the feran lay. “It just suddenly stopped doing anything. Honestly, I think it’s dead.”
“But I saw the thing move,” Elizabeth argued, lifting the sword defensively.
“It suddenly stopped attacking me, so I was able to toss it off me.”
Resting on the man she now wanted to hug, Elizabeth tenderly stroked his cheek. “Okay, come on,” she said. “I’ll check all the feran. You release your father.”
“Elizabeth … I’d rather switch,” Gregory said softly.
Surprised, she caught the look in the man’s eyes and understood. “Okay, but make it a thorough check.”
Rolling off of Gregory, she headed to the cage, found the hatch, and altered the lock. As the door opened, she asked Urik, “Do you know where the point of this magic is?”
“On the ceiling centered over this cage,” Urik answered before asking his more pressing question, “You saw?”
Elizabeth softened her nod by saying, “I understand.”
“Greg?”
“He’ll need time.”
“Do you think—”
“Urik,” Elizabeth interrupted. “All that’s important, but now’s not the time. I’ve got to kill those spells before any more feran come in.”
Reminded of the situation, Urik lowered his eyes in submission.
Seeing the power of the spell demonstrated by the cowed bearing of the old one angered the witchling. Shaking it off, she addressed her body as if it were a broom. A second later she was floating just below the ceiling.
The crystalline patterns for the two spells were there all right. Finding them was easy. Turning them off was going to be a challenge. Magic is best influenced by countermagic. Only here, the magic was preventing the witch from using anything but her witchcraft. She could manipulate whatever she wanted at a chemical level. Beyond that, there was little she could do.
So, she tried to disrupt the spell, first by attempting to physically remove the crystalline patterns from the ceiling. The effort, an absolute failure, was short-lived.
Spirit of the Dragon: A Story of Magic, a Witch, and the Third Reich Page 10
