Strange Medicine

by Jim Stein

  “Not your fault. The desert messes with firespeak. Can you still raise the others?”

  “I lost Clara half an hour ago. Aarav is on line, but it’s sputtering.”

  As was she. I tried a quick mental call to the other Bright, but it was no use.

  “Vance, how fast can you get us back down to the bridge? The hospital’s a bust. It sounds like the sand is arching around up ahead. Buses are already headed west.”

  “Shit, the desert’s on three sides.” Quinn’s hair slapped my neck as she shook her head.

  “We can split off onto Rt. 3. It’s about a five mile run to pick up 202 south.”

  I gave a curt nod then pushed my next thought out to Anna. “Keep moving. We’re on our way, but will probably come in behind you.”

  “Hurry.”

  Our route out looped north, and we heard the sand up ahead as we turned into the setting sun. The air was full of blowing grit now, coating our faces and plastered to the sheen of sweat we all wore—well, except Dwain and Ralph, who both seemed immune to the heat.

  Travel grew difficult as trees and shrubs cropped up in the middle of the road. The four-wheelers could handle it, but we slowed to keep from outrunning our headlights as darkness fell. So far out from New Philly’s infrastructure there were no streetlights. Vance led and suddenly slewed his machine left. Even traveling in a loose formation, I almost side swiped him.

  “What the hell?” Then I saw the mounds covering the road ahead.

  I turned and followed as Vance skirted the sand that had somehow gotten ahead of us. Manny followed close on our heels. The damned desert forced us south into the forest. The narrow paths might once have been roads. Dwain probably felt right at home. We pushed hard, and my world became racing engines and groaning sands following too close.

  “More ahead,” Quinn yelled in my ear.

  She clutched tight as we arced left onto an even smaller trail and climbed uphill. I couldn’t swear we were still on pavement. Our tires bounced off rocks and roots as the sand continued to force us left. In short order we’d come full circle and spiraled inward until we hit a low stone wall and entered the ruins of some old courtyard.

  “We’re screwed.” Manny shut off his engine and spiked his helmet.

  The helmet glanced off a thin rectangular stone jutting from the ground like an abandoned book and rolled up against another. The sand closed in from all sides, rushing faster now, a flood ready to swamp us. We weren’t prepared to get lost in whatever dimension the dunes led to, but there wasn’t much choice.

  “Hear that?” Quinn asked. “It stopped.”

  All grew preternaturally still. The smell of hot sand couldn’t quite edge out the damp moss covering our little corral’s stacked stone wall. The desert had stopped several yards beyond the wall. Rivulets of sand trickled down the leading edge only to disappear where desert met forest floor. We walked the perimeter and found the same on all sides.

  “It’s a trap,” Vance said.

  “I don’t think so.” Quinn studied the ground within the enclosure. “There’s power here. Not elemental, so I can’t see it. This feels similar to some of the castings I saw as a kid. Human magic, but the power feels…I don’t know, like the desire of many merged into one spell to make this place timeless and untouchable.”

  “Vance, where are we?” I looked where we’d entered. Rust spikes poked from the mortar between stones where there would have been a wood gate. Four stone rectangles poked up at odd angles from the leaf litter and laurel, but other bulges suggested there were more that were either smaller or had fallen flat. I brushed the vines back from the tallest stone, a wide tablet two feet long and almost as wide. The surface was etched with weathered grooves, writing erased by time. “It’s a cemetery.”

  “There’re stories of a graveyard lost deep in the state park,” Vance said as he crouched to look. “The Riddle or maybe Russell cemetery. What are the chances we’d just wander into it?”

  “Pretty good,” Quinn answered. “This is a protected place. We were probably drawn here.”

  I opened my Sight, but there was nothing to see. Quinn was right; this certainly wasn’t elemental magic. But there was a certain feel—as if that unseen force refused to budge, refused to allow its charges to be lost beneath the sands of another world. This was a tranquil place, yet it was a place of Earth that would not yield.

  “Old magic,” Dwain whispered.

  “Ralph, have some respect.” My imp lined gummy treats up along the edge of a short block marking one of the ancient graves. As he often did at bedtime, Ralph had Mr. Rabbit out—this time, sitting on the other side of the stone in a kind of sugary tea party.

  “It’s okay, they don’t mind.” Quinn smiled, apparently sensing more than me.

  “What now?” Manny looked none too pleased, and I couldn’t say I blamed him.

  “This makes the decision easy.” Pete pointed off to the southeast. “We’ll be riding on the sand no matter what. Our farm isn’t far from here. I vote we check it out.”

  I opened my mouth to argue, but he had a good point. I hadn’t been thrilled with the idea of going out to the Easton homestead because of the stretch of desert we’d have to cross—a concern that was moot at this point.

  “I’m game.” Quinn gave a thumbs up and grim nod.

  “Whatever.” Manny shook his head as if he couldn’t believe the mess we’d gotten him into. “Just don’t expect it to be easy.”

  “Easy?” Vance’s calm and collected act went missing in action. “It’ll be a nightmare. Downtown I couldn’t find landmarks I’ve known my whole life. Out here—how are we supposed to even get going in the right direction?”

  “Sun rises in the east,” Pete said in the stubborn voice he used on balking cows. “This time of year, more toward the southeast. We keep it on our left in early morning. I know the land for miles around our farm. We can do this.”

  “Dwain?” I wanted to give the sprite an opportunity to weigh in because I got the feeling his people were seldom consulted by the more powerful spirits.

  “We have enough talent to keep ourselves from going in circles.” He paused with a handful of grass halfway to the satchel on his hip, stared at Manny, and shrugged. “These herbs are better than my garden back home.”

  “It’s settled then.” I scanned our ragged group as the gloom thickened. Three sets of headlights speared the night in crisp beams that blurred into cones of brown beyond the desert border. Even the swirling dust didn’t enter our enchanted oasis. “I’ll take first watch.”

  If I’d taken the second or third watch, someone could have jolted me out of my nightmare—though I couldn’t recall ever waking up in the middle of a true dream. I stretched out on the ground by my ATV after waking Manny, jerked as I plunged into sleep, and then found myself standing under those odd trees and again facing the horned serpent.

  “How much is Koko paying you? I’ll double it.” I reached for my wallet, but found I had no pockets.

  “You are harder to understand than your mute canine. What need have I for payment?” Steam jetted from his nostrils, and those too-bright eyes narrowed.

  “No offense. It’s just an expression.”

  Even in dreamspeak I knew better than to make this ancient creature angry. Muscles already coiled along those tree-trunk forelegs, and the back under his wings was arched like an angry cat’s. For a serpent-based legendary being, Uktena sure spent a lot of time out of his snake form. Pina said he tended to hunt as the serpent, but battle as the dragon.

  “Waste of words. I have not called you here, but felt it proper to greet you since my realm is to be used for the meetings.”

  “The Neutral Council again?”

  “No.” The dragon shook his head, gracing me with a cascade of watery saliva. “Though they are involved. Neither the dark nor the light approved of using council territory, but all have been satisfied with these lands. None may hunt, but all may speak.”

  Something in the b
east’s manner piqued my interest. Could the long-standing feud between factions be settling into detente? If so, the Brights might finally be safe.

  “Is getting together normal for the courts?”

  “It happens on rare occasions when significant events impact all parties. The present danger qualifies, so these gatherings are not unexpected. Many will come, little will be accomplished.”

  “Your faith is sorely lacking.” The haggard voice was a familiar croak.

  Koko shambled in from our right. His desert clearing floated as if on a lake of mist just beyond a rippling curtain. All around us, other islands—for lack of a better term—floated in and hovered at various levels like docked airships.

  “Did Pina come?” I missed my friend and felt unreasonably vulnerable without her or Dwain by my side.

  “No, Edan.” Koko gave me a tired smile, the lines of his weathered face creasing deep.

  He looked about to say more, but a sonorous gong demanded silence. I blinked, surprised to find people crowded the sparse forest, facing a raised dais upon which were seated three figures. Tia, with her regal dress and dark coifed hair was easy to pick out in the center chair—well perhaps throne would be more accurate. To her left was a woman swathed in dark clothes, with a wide beautiful face and a predatory smile that had me inching closer to Koko and Uktena. The last person—in his casual slacks and button-down shirt—looked distinctly out of place. He was a tall, powerfully built man with curly red hair and a bushy beard hanging over his open collar.

  We stood at the back of the crowd, but through some trick could easily see and hear the stage. Although many of the people looked human—which of course meant little—tails, hooves, and the occasional set of wings graced other spectators. Arrayed like a loose army opposite their leaders, the crowd formed three living cones of light, dark, and neutral beings. The GQ Viking on stage gave Koko a friendly wave.

  “Kokopelli, come forth and give an update.”

  The staff appeared in my father’s right hand as he stepped forward. The carvings along its length glowed, imbuing the old spirit with power and washing away his fatigue. He leapt onto the platform.

  “We have slowed the situation, but our intervention will not last.” Behind Koko, Tia made a face like she’d swallowed a lemon dipped in hornets. “I again implore all parties to aid in holding back the veil before more worlds are lost.”

  “We need a permanent solution,” The Queen of the Dark Court said, earning gruff cheers from her constituents. “I’ll not throw away more power.”

  “We are close to understanding how to fix this.” Koko looked to the Light Court crowd before shooting me a sideways glance. “But time must be stretched to enable that solution.”

  A man dressed in black sidled up behind the dark queen and engaged her in whispered conversation. There was something familiar about the way he held himself, though I could only see his neatly combed hair glinting under the muted light. When the two broke apart, I caught a glimpse of his square lean face. Manny?

  “Aid might be forthcoming if certain…concessions can be made.” She swept up from her seat to tower over Kokopelli who seemed indifferent to the woman’s theatrics. “First, tribute will be paid by any realms touching our own; second, all current disputes against my court will be dismissed; and I think one final item is in order—the impure offspring will be turned over to us.”

  That last one brought Koko’s head up like a whip, and his staff flared. Any hope she might not be talking about the Brights—about me—vanished. The glade erupted into shouts of protest and roars of approval.

  “We should have seen that coming,” Uktena said over the uproar. “The dark have never been ones to let things go.”

  “Should I be…worried?”

  “No violence may occur during a session, and this will not be a short discussion.”

  “You call this a meeting?”

  Individual voices were lost in the free-for-all shouting match. I breathed a sigh of relief as the bedlam finally subsided, but quickly realized the scene was not growing quiet. I was pulling away. Uktena’s land dropped below me, and I drifted out between the island realms.

  As Tokpela closed in to drag me back to slumber, the two outermost islands pitched, bucked, and slammed into each other. They disappeared in a flash of green, leaving a dense patch of mists to swirl and dissipate. Then—for me—all was grainy fog, oblivion, and dreams of my family.

  “Wait, no!” I woke with a start and looked around the cemetery to see if I’d shouted out loud.

  My back ached. I stood and twisted out a series of satisfying cracks to ease the stiffness. Manny stuffed items back into the trunk of his vehicle. He wore jeans and a red shirt under his leather jacket, a totally different outfit than the one worn by the dark queen’s advisor. My street clothes changed in the dream realms, but he would have been on watch during the gathering in Uktena’s realm, so couldn’t have dream walked.

  This was one of the few times I’d come out of a true dream doubting what I saw. Being confused by Koko’s evasiveness was normal, but my recollection of events always remained preternaturally clear.

  “You went without me,” Dwain said as we gathered our meager belongings, and I doled out breakfast—protein bars for us and bars of sugar formed into toaster pastries for Ralph. “I felt you slip away, but couldn’t follow. Hit a sort of barrier. It felt like a keep out sign.”

  “Some big powwow to discuss the situation and ask for help keeping the worlds apart.”

  Dwain frowned and his face darkened. “Was Pina there?”

  “No. Koko showed up alone.”

  “Any of us at all?”

  “Forest sprites?” I’d seen all shapes and sizes in attendance, but no little people with their distinctive green eyes. “I don’t think so.”

  “And I’m sure no desert or water sprites either.” Dwain bolted down the last of his bar and crossed his arms with a huff. “Typical!”

  “If you two ladies are done gossiping, Pete wants to get moving,” Manny called as he swung a leg over his seat.

  “How was watch last night?” I asked.

  “Quiet as the grave.”

  Though his response dripped sarcasm, there was no indication he’d abandoned his post or fallen asleep. Manny was just being…Manny. Quinn hopped up behind the road manager as Vance edged his and Pete’s four wheeler toward the entrance.

  I’d need to let Quinn and Pete know about my dream. But Piper would recognize the main players, and I found myself eager to get her take on things. First things first. I saddled up with Dwain on the passenger seat and Ralph perched between the handlebars.

  “Everyone ready?” Pete asked before slapping Vance on the shoulder.

  Our machines crunched out over gravel and grass that gave way to a steep sandy slope. I glanced back at our stoic little oasis, wondering if we’d get a chance to come back and explore whatever power kept the desert at bay.

  10. Down on the Farm

  “A

  BOUT A half mile down this ravine, then back over the next ridge and we should catch sight of the outbuildings,” Pete said as we huddled behind the ATVs and waited for the line of fist-sized scorpions to march by.

  We’d run across several nasties throughout the long day. These seemed less inclined to attack than the ones along the expanding border, though we’d had a bad run in with a centipede early on. Vance shot it, and we’d ended up roaring away from ten feet of angry insect with a hole in its head.

  After that, we’d adopted the strategy of not antagonizing the desert denizens since we no longer had the luxury of simply stepping off the sand to safety. In return, the insects pretty much ignored us. Fortunately we hadn’t run across any shamblers or imp herds. Something told me the former would not pass us by quietly, and I wasn’t ready to discover how Ralph would react to others of his kind—or vice versa.

  “That’s what you said two hours ago.” Manny frowned at the steep incline ahead, and I had to admit my own con
fidence ebbed low.

  “Yeah, well a few frickin’ trees would help,” Pete shot back.

  Except for occasional clumps of the octopus weeds, all signs of vegetation and forest had been erased. At one point, Quinn helped me dig until we hit bare dirt three feet down—no grass, leaves, or any sign we traveled over what had been forest or farmland.

  “Let’s get a move on it, daylight’s fading.” I waved at the retreating column. When not attacking, the scorpions ran in single file like a line of lobsters across the sea floor.

  We’d started out with the sun off our left shoulder, but now it settled toward the horizon directly ahead. I worried we’d overshot the farm, but if so we should have hit the edge of town by now.

  Pete looked determined as we turned uphill and chugged out of the ravine. He nodded to himself as we approached the summit, then sagged in his seat when an endless vista of sand greeted us. With a heavy sigh, he tapped Vance on the shoulder and pointed to the right. The deputy inched his vehicle along the ridge, sending cascades of sand down either side of the dune. The sweet musty scent of baking sand held a hint of wet stone, a sure sign cold air would rush in the moment the sun set. I turned to follow, but my handlebars jerked back to the left. What the—

  “Ralph, let go.” I glared at the imp straddling my tank.

  Ralph had his knees locked tight and heaved again on my left handgrip, forcing us out of line. I braked rather than roll down the slope.

  “What gives?” Quinn called from behind Manny.

  I tried to complete the circle and get back on the ridge at the end of our little procession, but when I turned back uphill Ralph yanked on the right handgrip. He’d fearlessly ridden to battle on the shoulders of my massive dog, but I’d underestimated the little guy’s strength. I tried to pry his hands off, but it was damned difficult.

  “Ralph won’t let me drive that way. He must sense something.”

  “Path’s clear.” Manny shielded his eyes and gave Pete a sneer. “Sand, sand, and more sand.”