And it wasn’t just a sense of direction that led him on. Along this trail flowed a growing sense of urgency. Tired as he was, he didn’t want them to stop and only did so when Blanche refused to go another flap farther without food and a nap. Then she’d swoop down on some scraggly un-suspecting herd, snatch a beast, and land to crunch it before curling up for a brief sleep.
Troll, after gobbling his rations, would immediately drop to sleep beside their magic-conjured fire. Merlin and Welly usually took longer to fall asleep—talking to ease their worry and impatience. During their first brief rest stop, Welly asked a question that had increasingly been bothering him.
“Earl, we’re clearly in a very distant, very foreign country. But I talked to people back there, or heard them talking to each other, and I understood them. I thought people in all these foreign countries spoke different languages.”
“They do, and the languages are probably even more different now that peoples are cut off. Your understanding them is no surprise—not to me, anyway, but I guess I never told you, what with all the business when we left Avalon.”
“Never told me what?”
“Remember when I asked the Lady to give Arthur the gift of languages so he didn’t have to struggle learning the way they speak in Britain now? That language had been changing for two thousand years, and he was always such a dunce at languages, I knew it would take him forever. Folk of Faerie, like Troll, naturally have the gift of languages, but we humans don’t. The Lady agreed and suggested she give you, Heather, and me the gift as well. I said fine but that I doubted we would need it. She just looked at me and said that we never could be sure.”
Merlin sighed and rolled over with his back to the fire. “The Eldritch have an uncanny way of sensing the future. I wish it was a trait that I’d inherited. Now sleep. As soon as the dragon’s finished digesting, we’re off again.”
As their journey continued, Merlin’s sense of urgency grew, and their rest breaks shortened. Blanche insisted on meals, but at his urging she would just swoop down, snatch some fleeing animal, and munch it in the air.
At times, the land was too barren to see anything for her to snack on. On several of the mountains they flew over, glaciers had advanced far down the slopes, driving away any people or animals who might have survived there. Over one bleak icy stretch, when Welly was wishing he had an even heavier jacket, he heard Merlin mutter, “Faster. We’ve got to go faster.”
At that, Blanche snaked her head back to them. “Be my guest, hawk boy. Sprout wings and carry the others.” She snorted smoke and set them all coughing. “Just give the word that my honor debt is paid, and you’ll see me fly plenty fast—out of your lives.”
“Sorry,” Merlin managed to say between coughs.
“You should be. Where was the other place that batty Baba person said used to have dragons? I’ve half a mind to cut off there anyway and check it out. Maybe there are some good-looking male dragons still hanging around.”
Welly squeaked in alarm, but Merlin held up a hand to quiet him and spoke to the dragon. “If you did that, you’d break the dragon code of honor, and no self-respecting male dragon would have you. Besides, you wouldn’t want to miss the end of this adventure, would you? All the dragons in the old days had sagas or adventure tales revolving around them. When you get back to Faerie, you ought to have something to tell about your extra two thousand years in this world.”
She snorted, drifting more smoke their way. “Don’t try to outsmart me, boy. As it happens, curiosity is another dragon trait. And I really would like to know how this story comes out. But don’t press me. I can always make up the ending if I have to.”
After a time, they left snow and glaciers behind. The mountains ahead were lower. In patches, meager forests covered the bare rocky soil, and small villages showed some human or mutie life. Merlin felt they were close now, and he cautioned the dragon to fly lower.
Hours earlier, the sun had set behind them. The night sky was unusually clear. Tarnished starlight gave everything a ghostly cast. More mountains appeared ahead of them. When Blanche complained it was time to rest, Merlin urged her to go on just a little farther.
“See that mountain that stands by itself, the one with the flattish top?”
“Yep, and it’s a lot of wingflaps away, in case you haven’t noticed.”
“I have, but you’re a strong young dragon. I know you can do it. Heather, I sense, is somewhere just beyond that.”
Grumbling steadily, Blanche continued winging toward the mountain. As dawn just grazed the east, they began their circling descent to its summit. They landed on a rough plateau surrounded by jagged pinnacles. Snow crouched in patches among the rocks, and the air, once they climbed stiffly from the dragon’s back, was thin and bitterly cold.
“Doesn’t look like there’s a lot of breakfast just waiting around for me,” Blanche growled. Impatiently Merlin answered, “Look around for rock rats or whatever, but don’t stray far. I need to get an idea of where Heather is and then act quickly. I sense there isn’t much time.”
“Time for what?” Welly asked as he followed Merlin toward the far edge of the plateau.
“I don’t know! But there is something truly evil brewing, and Heather’s in the midst of it. We ought to be able to see down into the valley once we get to those boulders at the edge of the plateau.”
As they neared the boulders, shadows detached themselves and stood before them. People, wearing robes, holding swords. Merlin and Welly drew their own swords, and Troll pulled out his long dagger.
“Who or what goes there?” a voice called from the edge of the boulders.
Merlin ignited his staff with light. “I ask you the same.” Behind them, the three could feel Blanche taking a few protective steps forward.
Gasps and mutters were heard from the crowd in front of them. “Surely these are gods or spirits,” one said. “This may be Vishnu coming to curtail Kali.”
“Or Shiva,” said another.
“Or Rama, the hero.”
Another chimed in, “No, this must be Surya, god of the sun. See his light and the celestial bird he rides.”
A woman stepped up. “Well, surely the one behind is Hanuman, the monkey god.”
Troll jumped forward indignantly, waving his dagger. “Me not monkey! Me Troll, brave warrior!”
Behind him, Blanche spat a glob of flame that landed just in front of the foremost speaker. “And I am no bird!”
Merlin raised a hand as the group cowered back. Quietly he spoke to his companions. “Let’s not start a fight here. I don’t sense anything dark about these people—except fear.”
Then he stepped forward and spoke to the dozen or so people who the spreading dawn now showed them. “We are not gods or spirits. We are foreign travelers seeking a companion of ours who has been stolen away and, we believe, taken here.”
“I know who they are,” said a small voice. A little girl in a ragged dress pushed her way through the crowd.
“Patma?” one man said. “Go back to bed.”
A silver-haired woman grabbed the girl’s hand. “No, listen to her. She Sees things sometimes—and Hears them. What do you know of them, Patma? Are they demon servants of Kali?”
The girl shook her head, swinging her dark braids back and forth. “No, Aunt Gutra, they have nothing to do with Kali. There is a girl who a witch-woman brought for Kali. These people here have come to rescue her. But they must hurry. It will happen soon.”
“What will happen?” Welly blurted.
“The sacrifice,” the girl answered as she rushed forward and grabbed Merlin’s hand. The wizard suddenly looked even paler than before. “Come, I can take you near there.”
One man stepped to bar their way. “These are strangers. Is it wise to show them our secret ways?”
The silver-haired woman slapped the man on the arm. “You old skeptic. Clearly these are beings of power. If Patma trusts them, they are to be trusted.” Then she turned to Merlin. “Excuse
us, but we live here in the shadow of Kali’s temple and are ruled by fear. We serve her and her followers because we must, but we are not hers—not when she is in her dark moods. Since it is often our children whom she takes, how could we be? Follow Patma.”
The little girl quickly led them to the boulders and through a low doorway concealed between two of them. Endless-seeming stairs led down, lit by narrow gashes in the rock wall. Here and there, passages branched off, but Patma ignored these. Then she darted into one that led straight for a while and then dropped again. Soon they were passing through a series of small caves with their openings overlooking the sprawling ruins below. The cave walls were adorned with carvings and colorful paintings, but the travelers saw these only as intricate blurs as they hurried by. Then came more down-spiraling stairs, more, larger caves. Finally they stopped at a door concealed behind a seated figure of a fat person with a long nose, tusks, and flapping ears.
“Ganesh,” Patma said as she patted the statue’s carved stone toe. “May he bring us luck.”
Behind that door, the passage became low and narrow. There was no natural light, but as Merlin started to light up his staff, Patma whispered, “No light. We will be in the temple precincts soon. There are demon guards about.”
After long minutes shuffling forward in the dark, the ceiling dropped lower. They were forced to crawl. Welly hated tight places, and only the thought of Heather in danger kept him from totally losing control. For Troll, dark underground places reminded him of home. Merlin’s thoughts were focused on Heather. He could feel nothing but her fear.
At last the passage ended between the feet of another statue. Patma poked her head out first, then darted out, motioning the others to follow. As Welly did, he glanced up and saw that this statue had many arms, tusks, horns, and a fierce scowl. He was glad it was only a statue.
For some time, they had been feeling a pulsing in the stone floor, growing louder as they advanced. Now in the narrow hallway down which Patma led them, they could hear that it was drumming. It grew louder and more insistent with their every step. Abruptly the hallway ended in a balcony. With columns and carved stone balustrades, it overlooked a great open hall. Tiers upon tiers of balconies circled the hall, but all except theirs were empty.
Crouching behind the balustrade, they peered through the stone grillwork. Far below, the vast floor seemed covered in gray mist or powder. Rising out of it were stone stairs leading to a throne. It was empty now, but below it, Merlin saw Heather standing in a long red dress, her hands and feet bound. Beside her stood another familiar figure. He quivered with anger. Morgan Le Fay.
Both Heather and Morgan were standing still, watching another figure, a gigantic grotesque woman dancing wildly over the gray swirling floor. She was black as deepest night and all four of her thin arms waved madly, one brandishing a sword that steadily sprayed what looked like blood.
The drumbeats grew more frenzied. The dancer drew steadily closer to the dais—and to Heather. Sword now held upward, step by menacing step, the dancer advanced.
Heather closed her eyes, shutting out the advancing figure of Kali. She must do something now.
Animal magic, that was all she felt sure of, but there were no animals near to help her. Transformation. Earl had warned of its dangers, but nothing could be worse than the danger closing on her now. She felt the heavy comforting weight of Earl’s bracelet on her wrist.
Furiously she concentrated, and the first animal that came to mind was the rat. Pale gray fur, long whiskered snout, bare whip of a tail, and tiny feet—pink, clawed, and made for scurrying. She knew that rat, every fiber of it. She would be that rat—she was that rat.
Shrinking and fading, convulsing inside. Bonds fell uselessly away from her small form. Scrambling over them, Heather the rat pelted down the stairs between Kali’s pounding legs. She dove into the sea of ash. Herself gray as ash, she scampered across the floor, leaving a long powdery plume in her wake.
She heard thumping footsteps as Kali chased after her. Gray camouflage was of little use if she couldn’t see where she was going. Desperately she scrabbled above its choking pall. Crouching on an empty skull, she stared around. Everything looked so large and far away to her rat eyes. Where was a wall, where escape?
Heather squealed as claws bit into her shoulders and lifted her into the air.
ESCAPE
Heather writhed, trying to break loose from the talons’ grip. Then, looking down to the ash-covered floor, she realized that a drop from this height would kill her rat self. Hanging still, with pain gripping her sides, she saw that she and her captor were rising, passing tiers of carved balconies. A hawk’s fierce black eye stared down at her, its beak opening in a raucous cry. They continued to rise, not returning to the dais.
A green blast of energy careened their way, but the bird dodged and closed in on one balcony. The bolt shattered stone on the wall below as they swooped over the carved balustrade and shot like an arrow into a narrow dark passage. Heather could just make out shapes fleeing before them through the darkness. The flapping wings of the creature that held her barely missed the walls.
Suddenly they veered around a corner. Ahead, figures huddled at the base of a large grotesque statue. Before she could even focus on them, the thing that carried her swept low and let her loose. She rolled over until she bumped up against a stone wall. Blinking her rat eyes, she looked fearfully at the bird of prey, now crouching beside her. Its features blurred. She shook her head, but the image kept dissolving. It became a man. No, a boy, really. Earl! She tried to call his name but was still trapped in the rat’s form.
Merlin pressed shaking hands around her furry body. “Easy, Heather. Transformation back is often harder than the first change. Close your eyes. Relax. Think about yourself, your human self. Remember what you were wearing, remember everything that’s you. I’ll help.”
She tried to imagine the person she saw in the mirror. She’d never been too pleased with that image, but she longed for it now. She could feel the force of someone else longing for it as well. Dizziness overwhelmed her. Her body was tingling, twisting, expanding. Her suddenly larger lungs gasped for air. Then she was lying on her back, looking up at Merlin. Looking through clearly human eyes.
“Welcome back,” he said with his familiar lopsided smile.
Swiftly she sat up, burying herself in his embrace.
“Sorry,” said a young voice beside them. “But we must get out of here!”
With Earl’s arm around her shoulders, Heather stood. She saw a small dark-haired girl with big worried eyes. Beyond them were two people she recognized. “Welly! Troll! You’re here too!”
“Patma’s right,” Merlin said, helping her totter forward. “We’ve got—”
“Too late!” the little girl squeaked as four sword-wielding guards, hideous with horns, fangs, and scaly blue bodies, lumbered around a corner.
Quickly Merlin jumped in front, pushing the others behind him. He held up his staff, but the approaching guards laughed. “Little boy fight demons with stick!” the largest grunted in a thick guttural voice. “More food for Kali!”
As the lead guard lunged, Merlin swung his staff. The blast of purple energy bowled the guards over, rolling them like balls down the corridor and around the corner. Merlin followed with several more blasts, setting a wall of fire burning across the hallway.
“Quick,” he whispered, “into the passage.” Already Patma was leading the others through the narrow opening under the statue. Merlin was the last to crawl through, but just before closing the entrance stone, he sent a sound spell down the main corridor in the direction away from the fire. When the demons broke through, he hoped they would follow the phantom sound of running footsteps away from the hidden route their prey had really taken.
After interminable crawling, the passage rose again and finally exited at the feet of the elephant-god statue. Again Patma rubbed the stone toe, and muttered a prayer of thanks. “Now quick, up to the mountaintop. They mus
tn’t know we helped you.” She dashed off again through the series of caves and up steep twisting stairways.
At the foot of one staircase, Heather nearly collapsed. “Sorry, sorry. I feel like a squeezed rag,” she gasped.
“It’s the transformation,” Merlin assured her. “It’s exhausting even if you have total control. Shall I carry you?”
Heather laughed weakly. “No, I’ve got claw marks in my sides from your carrying me earlier.” Still, she gratefully accepted Merlin’s supportive arm around her waist.
The caves and stairs passed in an endless blur until finally, panting for breath, they all emerged into the cold mountain air. Staggering from among the boulders, they stopped and stared. Ahead, on the flat mountaintop, sat Blanche the dragon, surrounded by a circle of softly chanting people. Around her white neck hung a garland of purple flowers, and in front of her was a large wooden bowl piled with now cleaned and cracked bones.
The dragon looked up and blew a lazy smoke ring their way. “Had success, I see. I too. These dear people are quite convinced I’m a god.”
“And you haven’t tried hard to dissuade them, I take it,” Merlin said, striding forward.
“Why should I? Their goats and little cakes are delicious.”
Hurrying over to her, Welly said, “Well, say goodbye to your flock, because there’s a real goddess down there, to say nothing of Morgan, and I’m sure they’d love dragon steaks for dinner.”
“Yes, hurry! Go, go, go!” Troll said, scurrying up onto Blanche’s back.
The silver-haired woman stood and walked toward Merlin. “You have succeeded. We are glad. But you must indeed go now.”
“What will happen to you if they learn you helped us?”
“They won’t. We have our ways of concealment.”
“You should have seen his ways, Aunt Gutra!” Patma said excitedly. “If anyone’s a god here, he is. Changing shapes, big purple fire!”
“Nothing divine,” Merlin laughed. “Just magic. But you have seen magic growing here too.”
Yesterday's Magic Page 12
