“You always were good at adding two and two,” Jack said.
Thomas sighed. “Someone has to be.”
Nick eventually realized that a distinct sound could be heard above the ragged breathing that tore in and out of his parched throat; it floated over the rocky plain on the cold air, a noise so faint that one had to listen carefully to realize that it wasn’t the howling of coyotes or some wild bird. He and Zee were running flat-out, but they were almost out of firm stony ground and were encountering more patches of slippery, sandy soil that left obvious tracks and slowed them down.
Nick looked over at Zee. He was surprised that she could maintain the pace he set. She was showing signs of sunburn and dehydration, and an accumulation of worry was forming lines between her brows, however she seemed largely unaffected by the drugs he’d given her, exhaustion or the thin mountain air. It was only that the ever-brightening sun was taking its toll.
The sun didn’t bother Nick, but the cold of this place had a way of sucking the air out of his lungs and the moisture out of his skin. He knew the desert and its tricks. You could drink fluids all day long, but over time, your inner tissues went dry. If you stayed in the desert long enough, you became a desiccated shell, a living mummy.
And here he was, running through it without water.
It’s something new, the ghost’s voice offered.
Oh, yeah. It’s that and then some.
Nick was well and truly on his way to another life. Too bad the new life looked to be so uncomfortable. He felt as though someone had tied a thick bandage around his head and was tightening it like a tourniquet. It made breathing difficult, and it seemed impossible for him to open his eyes for more than a moment at a time. Nor was his mouth any happier; it was dry and musty and tasted a bit of dead leaves.
“Zee, are you okay? You look a little flushed,” he panted. She actually looked badly sunburned, but he didn’t say so. He had a sudden horrifying image appear in his brain: Zee turned into an apple-head doll that was decaying, caving in and slumping forward on its stick body as bacteria and the arid conditions did their cruel work. It was as though she had started to exhale and forgotten to stop. Another moment and she would be completely curled in upon herself.
Nick shook his head, rejecting the terrible picture.
“I’m okay. It’s just that the children and I don’t do well in midday sun. But don’t worry—I’m not at the end of my endurance yet.”
“Okay,” Nick answered. But he felt increasingly grim. If the cloud cover burned off, they would be in a bad way.
They hadn’t seen any signs of life for the last mile except a wild boar gorging itself on some kind of carrion that looked uncomfortably like a human body, but they were being paced by a pair of dust devils about fifty yards away. The dust devils never got any closer, but they never fell behind either.
Nick could only hope that the things would help wipe out the trail he and Zee were leaving in the sand. Though, the dust devils themselves were a pretty obvious marker if anyone was trying to follow them.
Nick loved both the mountains and many parts of the desert, but the scenery at this base of the eastern slope of the Sierras was parched, almost antiseptic. And so was the freezing air they were breathing. It had been stripped of all odor of vegetation. There were stunted pines, manzanita and the occasional scraggly oak about, but they might as well have been paintings for all the life they showed. If it wasn’t for the distant whoops and screams of the pursuing goblins, Nick might have believed himself and Zee to be alone on some movie set. Or in a neutral zone between worlds.
The children began to come around about forty minutes into their flight. Neither cried out or thrashed around, but Nick was certain he could hear Gretel whimper. Each tiny sound from her cut at his heart, and he found himself quite ready and able to do violence to the creatures chasing them. He and the ghost needn’t have worried about his ethics interfering with his actions. Those damn drugged darts! They not only caused a lot of pain, they might also have affected the children’s brains. He had no way of knowing what damage they had done.
It would be a shame for them to turn into eggplants, the ghost said. They’re cute, aren’t they—even if they are part goblin?
Oh, there you are. So glad you could join us, Nick answered. The ghost had been gone for a bit.
Don’t bust my chops. I was scouting ahead. Veer right. The entrance to the caverns is between those two spiked rocks.
I see it, Nick thought, and he altered their course. The dust devils shifted with them. It might have been his imagination, but it seemed that they also moved in a little closer.
You see those cyclone things? Nick asked.
Yeah.
Friend or foe?
Too soon to tell.
“Zee, do you see those dust devils?” Nick asked.
Zee glanced back. “Yes.”
“Do you think they’re . . . that they’re being caused by the . . .” What had she called it? “The weather goblin? Or the thing at the mall?”
“I don’t know,” she answered. “I thought maybe they were jinn.”
“Jinn?”
Genies, the ghost translated.
“You mean genies?” Nick asked.
“Yes. Some fey can call them. They’re like . . . mascots. Or pets,” Zee explained.
“Oh. Would that be a good thing or a bad one?” Nick asked. “For us, I mean.”
“I wish I knew.” Zee shifted Gretel. She had to be tiring—Nick’s own limbs were beginning to shake with fatigue, and he ran regularly. She added, “I take it as a good sign that they are staying between us and the goblins.”
“Yeah, they are.” Nick decided that he’d take it as a good sign, too. He also hoped that the faerie mound held some human necessities—like water. They would need it very soon. Zee especially was looking bad. If this chase went on much longer, he’d have to carry Gretel.
Suddenly, the sun was entirely blotted out. Nick looked up in surprise to see a thunderhead. It was building rapidly, the clouds boiling out of the sky as black as a cast-iron frying pan, and just as flat. It looked highly unnatural.
“Zee?”
“I think that’s the monster’s work,” she warned.
The clouds thickened quickly and began racing toward the bit of mountain that looked like a giant squatting on its haunches, pushed along by some atmospheric wind Nick couldn’t feel from below. Lightning began to flicker, and deafening crashes reverberated in the air around them. A stinging, acid rain began to fall.
Nick didn’t have to say anything to Zee. She put on a burst of desperate speed, and he leapt after her. They were close to the entrance, but Nick doubted they would make it; everything seemed to be coming together at once.
Suddenly, the dust devils closed in. Nick feared that he and Zee might be overwhelmed, choked with dust, but instead the devils formed a sort of protective cocoon around them, hurling the burning rain and lightning back into the sky. Nick wasn’t any too thrilled to see two sets of yellow eyes peering at him out of the dusty red swirls, but he didn’t bother complaining. At this point, he’d take help anywhere he could get it.
Here, the ghost said.
“Here!” Nick shouted, pivoting to the right.
Zee followed, but the dust devils did not; they simply parted to let them through the mountain.
The cave interior was warm; surprisingly so. It was also fairly light, as there seemed to be overhead fissures that opened to the sky. The floor was covered in a soft red sand that could only have come from the pulverized glasslike rock walls. Nick wasn’t sure if he should be happy with the nearby tracks, which suggested that something large had recently been dragged through.
“Look,” Zee said softly, and pointed.
There were dust motes twirling softly in the shafts of light coming down from the ceiling. This wasn’t unexpected after the dust devils, but none of them had ever seen dust that glowed like the sunrise. It took a moment to realize that the dust was so
red because firelight was reflecting off the cave’s glassy walls.
“What—” Nick began, only to be interrupted by a rumble like a tiny earthquake. The hair on his arms stood on end, and his nerves trilled a warning. “Get down!” he called.
He grabbed Zee and the children and toppled them to the floor. Above, a gout of fire rushed into the room, licking at the ceiling. It had come from one of the massive, darkened corridors that led from the room. The heat was intense, like a blast from an incinerator. They closed their eyes against it, but the light was so blindingly bright that they could still see a creature’s silhouette stretched over them, blocking out everything, swallowing them whole in some sort of psychic net. It took an effort for Nick and Zee to fight clear of the cobweb mesh enveloping their minds and roll themselves toward the shelter of the boulders near the cavern walls.
Then the shadow and the heat retreated, to be slowly replaced by a watery blue light, and they could hear a small stream bubbling nearby, a sound that hadn’t existed moment before.
What now? A flood?
Don’t be a pessimist, scolded the ghost.
As suddenly as it had come, the light was gone. A scent filled the chamber, a light, luscious green smell, a mix of berries and fern that evoked the clear image of a woodland. Nick was awed by the elemental power of nature, by this holy place, this sanctuary. There also came the sound of running water.
“Do you smell that?” he called to Zee, checking Hansel over as best he could while lying prone. Other than dazed, the boy seemed fine. “It’s like blackberries, fern and musk.”
“But there’s something else, too,” Zee said. Whiffs of burning rubber filled the air. She helped Gretel roll over, giving her sister an encouraging smile that the girl slowly returned.
“That must be the dragon fire,” Nick whispered, as the last of the blue light and psychic intrusion faded. He’d never considered it would smell like this. “What a weird combination of smells.”
“Weird for us,” Zee said. “I . . . I think that first smell was the shian itself. The faerie mound.”
“Is that good or bad?” Nick asked. Then: “Is it normal for a cave to smell like blackberries?”
“I don’t know. These mounds are alive, though— that’s what they say.” Zee raised her voice and lifted her head off the floor. She looked shaken, but sounded quite composed. The imp was not so calm, and the moment it freed itself from the folds of Zee’s cloak, it scurried for the cover of an outcropping of rock that looked a bit like a chair.
“Is that you, Mr. Dragon?” Zee called out suddenly.
There was a pause, and then came a slow rumbling that sounded a bit like a person clearing his throat— a very large person. Nick had the sense that the dragon was surprised at being directly addressed.
“Why, yes it is,” answered a deep voice that resonated through the chamber. “Sorry about that sneeze. Allergies, you know. And who might you all be? And why are you here on this suddenly blustery day?”
Zee hesitated, and Nick recalled some of the faerie tales he’d read about dragons. Giving them your real name was not wise because it gave certain powers over you. Zee seemed to have heard these stories, too, and she hesitated before answering.
“We are four travelers seeking the faerie stronghold of Cadalach.” She rose to her knees. She did not, however, stand up. That would put her in the range of the previous firestorm. Either she didn’t believe in the dragon’s allergies or she wasn’t willing to risk another attack of his hay fever.
There was the sound of sniffling and the air around them eddied. Maybe the dragon did have allergies.
“Is that wise?” the deep voice asked. “I mean, fee, fi, fo, fum, I smell the blood of a lutin. The fey aren’t generally friends to lutins, you know.”
“That’s not what dragons say,” Hansel piped up suddenly. “Fee-fi-fo-fum’s for giants. And we’re only half-goblins. At least, they say we are, but I’m not even sure of that. We don’t have four arms—and I’m much smarter than my cousins!”
There came a small rumble that might have been the dragon’s laugh.
“We’re very sorry to bother you,” Zee began again, then cleared her throat, suggesting that she was actually somewhat nervous. Nick reached out and squeezed her hand. “But we have a problem. We had some car trouble, and we’re being chased by five goblins—”
“Mutant goblins,” Nick corrected, also coming to his knees. The children were sitting up, looking expectant. If they weren’t afraid, he wouldn’t act that way either. “And they have some kind of nasty poison darts.”
“Do they, now? Well, well . . . mutant goblins with darts. This I have to see. Don’t be alarmed. I’m coming out. We really must talk about this at length. Mutant goblins are a favorite . . . hobby, you might say.” The dragon’s voice was suddenly very animated. There was the sound of something massive moving down one of the dark corridors. A faint glow illuminated the tunnel to the west. The temperature in the cave began to climb.
“Get behind cover,” Nick said to Zee, picking up both children and taking shelter behind a glass mound. They didn’t crouch, but Nick pressed the children back and was ready to drop flat at a moment’s notice.
“I wanna see the dragon,” Hansel complained.
“You will,” Nick said, his voice grim. He ran a hand through Gretel’s hair. She didn’t look frightened, but she didn’t seem as enthused about having a close encounter with a dragon as her brother did.
They watched in silence as a monstrous creature resembling a dinosaur clawed its way into the room. It had to wiggle to get its belly through the opening, clawing at the opening with massive talons. Nick was struck by the almost industrial smell that clung to it.
“Would you like to come with me to see the goblins? I could give you a ride,” the dragon added. His voice was almost gentle.
Nick relaxed. He felt faintly ridiculous cowering behind a rock when the dragon was being so polite.
He was still wary, though, and kept possession of his shotgun—for all the good it would do him. The dragon was armored, and its mouth was large enough to bite off Nick’s head and shoulders in one chomp.
“I want a ride!” Hansel said immediately. He smiled winningly up at the dragon. “Can you fly?”
“I would like to ride, too,” Gretel added softly.
Nick looked at the children. Hansel seemed alert enough, but Gretel still appeared dazed, her eyes slightly unfocused.
“I’m not certain it would be safe,” Zee began. Then, seeing the almost human elevation of the dragon’s brow ridge, she added, “It’s the goblin darts. They made us all very sick. Nick had to give us drugs so we could move, but I don’t think it’s good for the children to have so many human chemicals in their bodies.”
Nick also didn’t think it would be good for the children to see the dragon enjoying his hobby. It would probably give them nightmares for decades.
Never mind the children, the ghost said to Nick. I don’t want to see it, either.
“Very well then,” the dragon said. “Stay here—and watch the left cave opening. Company’s coming. Unless I’m mistaken, those are Thomas Marrowbone’s jinns outside. And mind the tail as I go by. It seems to have a mind of its own. Literally. I think it came off a stegosaurus. In any event, it remains a bit of an independent operator.” The dragon turned his head away and moved swiftly toward the cave entrance. His tail might be stegosaurus, but the rest of him was something much faster.
“Yoohoooo,” the dragon caroled as he stepped outside. It was terrifying, this singsong pitch. “Little goblins, come out, come out, wherever you are! Time for my afternoon snack.”
Nick and Zee exchanged a glance, and both of them shuddered.
Chapter Thirteen
“These goblins who are after this family . . . I’ve been thinking about this. King Quede was engineering some strange hybrid beings. We may not have discovered them all—or destroyed all his projects,” Roman Hautecoeur admitted reluctantly. His
breathing was calm. Being part pooka, he was good at running. Being curious, he was determined to see the goblins that had invaded fey territory.
“And you think Lobineau has been busy hunting them up and enlisting them for his own purposes?” Thomas asked. He wasn’t winded either, but his voice reflected the fact that he, Roman and their friend Abrial had run nearly two miles at speeds humans could only imagine. He’d collected them to come on this mission. “I’ve about decided this myself.”
“Maybe. Probably. He was willing to raise a hobgoblin from the dead—though how he managed it, I still don’t know,” Roman added.
“ ‘Will no one rid me of this meddlesome priest?’ ” Thomas asked, only half in jest. Actually, Roman figured it was probably something less than half, since Thomas wasn’t smiling.
“Gladly. Say the word and he is gone. I can be in New Orleans before sunset and finish the job.”
“And thus would end our first attempt at détente with a goblin hive,” Thomas said gloomily. “We don’t have any proof of wrongdoing, you know. At least, not yet.”
“Hey, it’s been more taunt than détente since Lobineau took over. We’ve let him get away with . . . well, murder. Politics!” Roman sounded disgusted.
“Our lives are always about politics, one way or another. And you know what they say about diplomacy,” Thomas prompted.
“Something I won’t like?” Roman guessed. Thomas snorted.
“Chou En-lai said that diplomacy is the continuation of war by other means. Or, as Galbraith put it: ‘Politics is not the art of the possible; it consists of choosing between the disastrous and the unpalatable.’ ”
“You’re quoting humans again,” Roman complained. “Surely we fey had something to say about this.”
Abrial spoke up, finally joining the conversation. “Nothing as succinct. When it comes to politics and war, humans have always had us beaten hands down. We—the unseelie, at least—deal more in treachery and assassination.” He gave a dark smile, as if contemplating just such a solution to the invading goblins.
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