by Jim Stein
Complaining knocked the last vestiges of sleep from Dwain’s emerald eyes, but the sprite really did look exhausted. The Ant People must have their healers off doing other work, like maybe supporting the troops funneling into our world. But that didn’t make sense. From the exchange we’d seen on the road, they were no friends to those invading forces. Regardless, we had more important things to worry about.
“Can you get us out of here?” I waved Vance over to the entrance, and he shook his head after a quick check of the door.
“So…they don’t have healing magic, but they’ve got plenty of power.” Dwain gave me an apologetic look. “I’m sort of a trusted agent, but you’re not going anywhere until they say so.”
An icy chill ran up my spine, and unseen eyes settled on me. Dwain jerked upright, narrowed his own eyes, and looked from me to the door. His face scrunched up in thought, and he raised a skinny forefinger as if to ask a question. A gray blur shot between us. Dwain’s breath whooshed out as if someone’d stepped on his stomach.
The cell door rattled. Ralph materialized with each hand wrapped around a bar and shaking the door for all he was worth. The scrutiny intensified, feeling almost familiar—needing something from me, willing me to—
The presence winked out, and Ralph went ballistic. The imp tore around the room, throwing blankets into the air as he shot past, slamming the cupboard doors open, and generally ransacking the place in a panicked search. Everyone gaped and backed to the wall as he repeated his circuit again and again.
Ralph didn’t so much run out of energy as give up in disgust. I jumped as an uncharacteristic snarl tore from his throat. Then the little guy’s face crumpled. He gathered a brown blanket into a tight hug, eyes drooping and yellow fang-tips poking from the corners of his frown. Ralph pulled a marshmallow from his hidden stash, raised it to his mouth, but dropped his arm as if it was too heavy.
“Not eating again,” Quinn whispered. “And where’d that come from?”
She pointed at the small blanket cradled against his bare chest. All our bedding bore bright, simple designs. The brown bit of cloth was smaller too. Ralph shifted onto his side, and a strip of the furry material spilled to the floor. In the crook of his elbow a pink felt tongue showed beneath beady eyes set in a furry face. Mr. Rabbit gazed calmly back at us.
“Those damned magic pockets again.” I tucked one of our blankets around the now snoring imp and Max’s old toy. “As long as it makes him happy.”
“I could seriously use pockets like that, but we need to get out of here before the rest of us go nuts.” Pete glanced at Manny, but instead of taking offense the manager pushed off the wall.
“We’re useless with these counter-spells hobbling our power,” Manny said. “We need to get to the ATVs and put some distance between us and those two psycho-ant-priests. Their magic will fade with distance. Once it’s weak enough, I can break through and ward us against another attack.”
“We need the staff or we’ll never find the stupid shield,” I said. “If Dwain can’t help, we’ll have to figure out how to escape on our own, take advantage of the next changing of the guard or something.”
“There’s a big gathering by the bridge today,” Dwain offered, then clamped his mouth shut.
“Out with it, munchkin,” Manny said, but Dwain shook his head.
“Did they say it was a secret?” Quinn used a different tactic as she nodded with a feminine empathy the rest of us could never manage. “If so, then you’re right not to tell.”
“Well, no.” Dwain’s face scrunched up in thought. “They didn’t say not to tell. In fact, everybody’s talking about it. Most of the village is going to be there to see the twins.”
“The shamans are brothers?”
“Yep, just like the twin gods. That’s part of why they get to lead. They’re going to try calling on the polar gods to save the crops.” Now that he was talking, information spilled out of the sprite. “Winter’s coming, and there isn’t enough food. Things have been growing worse all season—I think since the portal opened. Dawa is the one pushing for the ceremony. Muuyaw sees it as a waste of time because they’ll be moving soon.”
“I knew the crops were failing!” Pete punched his left palm with his right fist. “Where’s Mr. Contrary think everyone’s going? The forest wasn’t exactly brimming with health either.”
“Muuyaw wants to lead them out into the fourth world.” Dwain had the decency to blush, making the scar across his left cheek stand out as a stark white slash.
“Of course, into our world.” Things were starting to make a little sense. “But the vortex is turning everything into desert. They’ll be going from the frying pan into the fire.”
“I’ve overheard a lot of debate about that,” Dwain said. “The growing desert is an unexpected side effect. Maybe things will return to normal after everyone’s across and the portal closes. The Ant People aren’t in charge of the portal, or even responsible for it. That’s something their twin gods came up with, but the Ant folk aren’t complaining too hard. It might be their only way to survive.”
“Not at our expense they won’t.” Quinn stomped in a tight circle. “Even if Earth doesn’t become a wasteland, the world is fragile enough. There’s no way people will be able to cope with all these creatures, which—by the way—seem awfully bent on taking out everyone they run across. Not to mention this whole other issue of instability across the realms. People live in those other planes and they’re being snuffed out as we speak.”
“The shield is the key.” I ticked off what we needed to do on the fingers of my left hand. “We get out of here, get the staff, and find the shield. Once I have my magic back, we can burn the damned thing and this all stops dead in its tracks.”
“We’ve got company,” Vance announced from the doorway.
Muuyaw wouldn’t deign to speak with us, and the approaching Ant’s expression was one of calm endurance rather than a haughty sneer. I figured stepping into the conversation might help build trust.
“Good morning, Shaman Dawa.” I tipped my imaginary hat and was rewarded with a wry grin.
“Dawa will do. I am neither shaman nor priest, simply a servant of my people.”
“Fair enough. I’m Ed, and these are my friends.” I named everyone except the sleeping imp and finished with our suddenly-sheepish sprite. “Of course you already know Dwain.”
“Yes, the sprite’s been a great help. I’d wondered where he’d gone off to.”
“Says it’s restful in here. I can’t say I like your hospitality, but I get the feeling your brother would rather see us in chains.”
“We are”–he looked uncomfortable and struggled finding the right word—“different. But Muuyaw’s precautions are not entirely without merit.” Dawa’s gaze swept over the locked door separating us. “What brings you to our lands?”
“Things are pretty messed up where we come from.” I shook my head while formulating a half-truth. “Desert swept over the city and monsters chased us through a swirling green portal. We’re just trying to find our way back.”
“Come now,” he chided. “We are not ignorant savages. It seems unlikely you are here by accident, especially bearing an artifact from antiquity.”
Dawa pulled a familiar object from one of the larger pouches on his belt. The length of Koko’s guiding staff gleamed in the rising sun, just inches away. So close, but it might as well be on the other side of the planet—unless.
“If you give that back, we’ll be on our way.” I held out my hand, but let it drop at the hard glint in his eye. “Look, we don’t mean you any harm. Your people attacked us.”
“We cannot allow you to proceed.” Dawa looked around our little prison with sad eyes as he dangled the staff just out of reach. “You travel toward the sacred mountain to shut down the portal and trap us in this dying world. Say it isn’t true, and I will consider releasing you.”
“We have no desire to lock you in this world.” Hell, we hadn’t even known ther
e were people here.
“And the portal?”
“It’s destroying our world!” The glimmer of hope that he’d let us go winked out. “You’re invading a wasteland. If you think growing things is hard here, try it in shifting sand. That portal is dangerous and unstable.”
“Invading.” Dawa spoke to himself, tasting the word I had used—weighing it. “The desolation on both sides of the portal will dissipate. We must move on to survive, just as your ancestors did eons ago. We…I would prefer a peaceable migration.”
He bowed his head with a sigh. Seams ran down either side of the smooth crown, reinforcing his insectile appearance.
“So stop it.” I couldn’t keep the venom out of my voice. “Call back those monsters and let’s work something out.”
“We don’t have the authority to negotiate something like that.” Quinn’s cautious tone pulled my eyes to her frowning face.
“If not us, then who?” I whispered.
“No matter,” Dawa said. “My brother and I serve the twin gods. Muuyaw’s god, Pöqanghoya of the northern pole, has set the method. I am but a humble servant of Palöngawhoya of the south.”
So his brother and the god of the North were the ones sending shock troops into our world. I thought of the other Ant leader’s dismissive and oh-so-superior attitude. If he didn’t have a hidden agenda in his back pocket, I’d eat my shoe.
“Muuyaw doesn’t strike me as anyone’s humble servant.”
“We are each cast in the image of our creator.” He gripped my staff tighter and slipped it back into his pouch. “As are you. Food will be brought to ease your hunger.”
“There’ll be war.”
People would freak out when the hordes came crashing down on civilization. Even if the sands did recede, humans weren’t forgiving.
Dawa spun and marched off, leaving me to stare at his rigid back and contemplate the pouch slapping his spindly thigh. Getting my staff just got a lot harder. Even if we did manage to sneak out during the coming ceremony, how on Earth were we supposed to steal Koko’s artifact back if the leader wore it like a handbag?
Our two guards turned mournful eyes my way, the first I recalled them looking at me instead of through me. If I didn’t know better, I’d say they felt sorry. I spun around to glare at the room, with arms folded across my chest. Cold metal bars pressed into my back. Out of spite, I dug my heels in and pushed, but the door didn’t budge.
“One thing at a time,” Quinn said, reading my mood. “First we break out and get to the ATVs. Maybe we can send Ralph in to sneak off with the staff. We’ll get Dwain to explain how important it is. Sprites have a way with the little guy.”
“So how do we unlock the door?”
“These guys aren’t good jailers,” Vance said. “They only give the handle a jiggle to make sure it’s locked, and the mechanism isn’t even a dead bolt. I can shove a wad of cloth into the strike plate the next time they open it, so the latch won’t fully seat. It’s an old trick that won’t work on newer locks, but this thing isn’t fancy.”
“We’ll need a distraction.” Pete held his stomach and moaned. “I can fake being sick. You know, cause a real ruckus so they come in and take their eyes off the door.”
“As good a plan as any.” I shrugged and sank to my butt as everyone turned out their pockets, and Vance looked for something to work the door latch open.
The ATVs were parked in an alcove off to the left of our cell. Dwain swore the keys were still in the ignition, so as long as they had fuel we were golden. Ralph snored on with Mr. Rabbit in a death grip. Hopefully the little guy would be calmer after his nap, and we could see if he understood the concept of pick-pocketing. He’d managed to converse with sprites in the past, so I was counting on Dwain’s help in asking him to steal back the staff.
Our developing plan wasn’t fool-proof. Hell, it leaked like a sieve and pretty much stunk, but what else could we do? Prickling above my collar had me scratching in earnest before realizing it wasn’t a physical sensation. My ears grew hot, but I forced myself to suck in a calming breath.
A year of slinging magic had heightened my perception. The damned guards were watching me, eyes brimming with pity for the foolish human who ended up on the wrong side of their boss. I was sure of it and spun around to glare back, but one of the Ants had left—presumably to get the promised meal. The other gazed off toward the crowd gathering along the fields for the ceremony.
No one so much as cast a glance in our direction as more of the monstrous inhabitants shuffled in to join the crowd, but the sensation of being watched clung like a wet shirt as unseen eyes settled on the back of my head. I resisted the urge to move away from the door. If one of the twisted creatures skulked in the shadows, my back would block their view of our planning. If Koko or one of his cronies watched…well, there wasn’t much I could do about that. But it would be decent of them to lend a hand.
20. Glimpse the Dragon
T
ROLLS PUSHED forward in a wave with the rear-most monsters prodding those in the front closer to the house. Anna held her breath as the shots from overhead ricocheted off their rocky hide. On her left, Melissa waited with shotgun pushed though the screen.
“Those poor bastards in the front row are disintegrating.” Piper’s pen flew across the page.
Rifle fire still rained down from the second floor windows, but didn’t account for all the chunks of stone sluffing off the lead creatures in sparkling showers. Rage twisted the faces of those pushing from behind, but the ones in front dug in their heels and howled, a sonorous roar like wounded lions.
“They’re sacrificing their own.” Melissa leveled her gun as the line pressed to within fifty feet.
“Absorbing the protective energy,” Piper said. “Look, the shamblers are right on their heels.”
Anna reached for her magic and sent a whirlwind out with a sweep of her arm just as Melissa fired. The blast nearly knocked the A-Chords’ song out of her head, but Anna held to the bass line—Quinn’s part—and pushed her spell past the dying front line. Desperation lent her strength as the shotgun rang out again, but the spell was a mere fraction of what she’d managed in Milwaukee.
Her whirlwind tore at the trolls, blinding a few with sand, but the creatures were simply too massive. Three attackers staggered off in the wrong direction only to come up against the now steadily sparking protective barrier.
The attack faltered. The driving line lost traction as the mass of trolls came up hard against the ancestral barrier twenty feet from the house. The air grew thick with thrumming pressure that squeezed until Anna’s teeth ached. She screamed and flew backward as the sparking front line exploded in blue-gold energy. After images made her eyes stream, but the terrible pressure winked out—along with the protective barrier.
Trolls, shamblers, and gaunt creatures on spindly insect legs picked themselves up as the women clawed over broken glass and the tumbled remains of memorabilia that had lined the now windowless sun porch.
“Here they come!” Melissa pushed a box of shells into Anna’s hands. “Five at a time when I run out. Piper, grab the double-barrel from over the fireplace, but brace yourself or you’ll be back on your ass.”
Pete’s sister fired, picked a new target, and fired again. Anna’s head rang with each blast, to the point she was certain no music would come. The ache deep in her core meant she probably couldn’t manage another spell anyway. She focused on counting shots as Melissa pumped off round after round.
Stuttering gunfire sounded overhead as the men rejoined the defense. Anna fumbled getting the next five cartridges to the other woman. Melissa was an old hand with the weapon and calmly reloaded before sighting on the nearest troll. The brute tried to tug its leg free of the splintered back steps that gave way as it tried to climb onto the deck. The blast took it full in the chest, dropping the monster in a spray of rocky debris. Melissa whooped and gave Anna a high-five.
“Less celebrating, more shooting, ladies.” Piper h
oisted the massive double-barrel to her shoulder. “They aren’t staying down!”
Although slowed by their defense, the trolls trudged forward. Even the one Melissa shot point-blank pushed to its feet, despite the gaping hole in its chest that bled a sandy gray slurry. Piper gave it both barrels. A post supporting the roof burst into a cone of splinters, but part of the blast caught the troll’s shoulder and spun it around. Anna winced as Piper rocked back. It would be a miracle if the recoil hadn’t dislocated her shoulder, but Anna scrambled to put two new shells in her open hand.
Three trolls tore at the floorboards, wading through the decking as if in a waist deep swamp. The floor buckled as they approached the door they couldn’t possibly fit through. Boots pounded down the steps in the main room.
Six men streamed in to flank the shotgun-wielding women. It was odd to see the band with guns instead of instruments. Mr. Conti called directions to the others, moving them away from the firefight. Deafening didn’t begin to describe the roar from those weapons. Yet it wasn’t enough. Shamblers and the spindly creatures flowed up behind the trolls. Scrabbling on the outside walls and then in the rooms above told her the latter were in the house.
They abandoned the sun room and fell back into the main house. The exterior wall collapsed, sending rubble across the broken toboggan and trampled deer. The trolls stood with backs to the rising sun and green vortex, the last sight she’d ever see. Or would these monsters take prisoners, force her back into captivity…never again! The promise had her feet moving.
“Anna, no!” Brent tried to pull her back.
His grip was weak, his hands as shadows in the face of the power welling up from within. Never again. The room darkened, narrowed to a tunnel ending at the horrible creatures. Calloused hands reached; fetid breath panted hot. And Quinn’s bass thrummed in her soul as “Lightspeed” rose on staccato drums. A departure for the A-Chords, the alternative beat spoke to her and pulled every bit of power to the surface. Her Spirit energy rode the lyrics, stoking the storm within.