by Jim Stein
I called up Fire, hoping for a clear shot, but someone grabbed my arm and pulled me back.
“Dwain’s in trouble.” Quinn’s ashen face told me having her spell smashed had hit hard.
Sprite and Ant bent low over Lifebringer. They shivered as if freezing, and Dwain sucked in great lungfuls of air as he worked. I reached out to find oily power covered the surface, making it impossible for Dwain to place the next power drain. They’d moved perhaps half of the leeching strands, but the interfering energy flicked two of those free. Several of the healthy feeds they’d hooked to the land snapped, and a dull grayness darkened where they’d been anchored.
“We’re not taking in enough to sustain the work.” Dawa looked scared. “The land fails.”
“They need more power.” Quinn pulled at my sleeve.
Dwain strained, trying to hook the strand he held to a particularly dark portion of the twisted forest, but it just wouldn’t reach.
“Try for this spot here.” I pointed to a patch of dead nymphs on the painted plains, not far from another drain point, but closer to the strand Dwain wrestled.
As Dwain shifted his grip, the conduit pulled in on itself and shrank. The sprite pulled and tugged valiantly, trying to stretch it. Dawa lent his power to the effort, and I found I could wrap my will around the sprite’s grip and push Spirit at him. The strand refused.
Dwain panted. “Maybe if we—”
“Will you assholes listen to what I’m saying!” Quinn cut off further speculation, and I was glad to see Dawa and Dwain wilt under her glare too. “Dwain, the land needs more power?”
He nodded. “If I can get three more connected we’ll be—”
“More power to convert into healing energy, to stabilize the shield?”
“Yeah, or else this is all going to unravel.”
“There’s your power source.” She pointed out at where a grinning Muuyaw now held Rhonda and Manny suspended in a glowing column of violet energy matching the beams shining from his fevered eyes.
Dawa scratched his chin and nodded. “Try this.”
They used the leeching strand as a kind of vacuum. Initially, it didn’t want anything to do with the thick oily power coating the shield. Dwain tweaked something, and Dawa muttered encouragement. A few more adjustments too subtle for me to follow had the suction cup mouth they held drinking in the dark energy—slowly at first, but with growing enthusiasm as it developed a taste for it.
Dwain unhooked half a dozen more power feeds from where they drained goodness off the land. These readily swept across the surface of the complex spell that was Lifebringer. Soon the artifact was clear of restricting power.
Behind us, Muuyaw let out a growl, flicked a hand, and sent a new wave of suppressing energy into the shield. The hungry drains drank deeply. More of the things detached from the land to take in this new power source.
Muuyaw tried to shut down his spell, but the leeches lengthened and stretched toward the ant-god. The shield swelled as it greedily gulped down power. Health and clean energy blossomed at the discharge points across the third world mini-map.
Muuyaw’s growl turned to a scream. He shrank back to his former size as pulsing waves of magenta energy flowed into the shield. The strands glowed white hot, but the shield had been forged by the gods and made strong enough to handle the powers of creation.
The northern god’s essence flowed into Lifebringer to be converted into healing energy. The vortex surged, gaining its fair share from the feeds Dwain had left in place. Muuyaw collapsed as the last dregs of energy left him.
The sated power drains fell slack. Under Dawa’s expert direction, Dwain quickly attached them to points across the land where negative energy could best be pulled. In just a few minutes the shield lay whole and fully restored to its original purpose—a tool to help all of the third world, not destroy it.
30. The Journey Home
“W
ELL, THAT was a good idea.” The compliment felt pretty lame, so I rubbed Quinn’s back and gave her my best geeky smile.
“Dwain needed power.” She shrugged and jerked a thumb at Muuyaw’s body. “Might as well go for high-test.”
Her sideways look and raised eyebrow were a silent rebuke for not taking her advice sooner. But she softened the blow by leaning in close. Her cheek and hands on my chest sent a warm thrill through me, and I drew her in tighter. She smelled of dirt and dust, but felt uniquely Quinn. I smiled at how she rubbed against me, until I realized she was wiping the grime onto my shirt.
“Hey!” I pushed her away amidst giggles.
That’s when we noticed Dawa solemnly staring across at his fallen brother. Quinn sobered and stopped slapping at my hands.
“I’m so sorry, but we had no choice,” she said.
“He made the choices for us.” Dawa gave a weary nod. “I lost my brother long ago, but turned a blind eye to his departure from the way of the land, from caring for our people.”
Manny staggered over to the corpse, checked for a pulse, and then kicked Muuyaw hard. Or maybe he kicked a dead god. The North Pole god had destroyed worlds in his attempt to flee this land. I couldn’t blame Manny for his anger, but winced when he pulled the body up by its shirt and slammed it down hard. Rhonda, again just an athletic woman in embarrassingly scant undergarments—the only clothes that hadn’t torn away in her transformation—limped over to put her arm around the road manager and walk him away.
“Dwain, I know you’re exhausted, but could you…” I flipped my head at the injured woman.
“Yeah, yeah.” He slipped Lifebringer into Dawa’s hands before standing. “I want a raise, or better yet a vacation. Knife wounds are a bitch to close.”
“We love you,” Quinn called after the muttering sprite.
“Knights in shining armor don’t get time off.” For some reason my snide comment put a spring in his step.
Something cold and wet pushed into the palm of my right hand. I cupped Max’s snout, gave it a shake, and bent to examine his wounds. Or at least that’s what I started to do.
“Holy crap!” I looked my dog in the eye without having to crouch.
“There is old magic in him,” Dawa said.
“Either that or someone’s been hitting the gym.”
Even with those glowing golden eyes, he managed the somber, hopeful look I’d come to love in my dog. I’d always been a sucker for that expression, and today was no different. I grabbed the big—really big—doofus by the ears and gave them a good rubbing. He smelled of bread, tuna, and a new hint of sulfur, but was still my best friend.
I ran my hands down his sides and prodded those hind legs that had been so unstable after he got clobbered. Nothing seemed to be broken. The few scrapes and cuts spotting his sides had already stopped bleeding.
Hot little pants blew into my ear as I knelt to check Max’s pads. Ralph stood close, his eyes grew wide as they swept up the mountain that was now my dog. I thought the little guy might cry at the change in his friend, but instead he let out a sort of squeak, clambered up onto my shoulder, and jumped to Max’s back. He straddled Max’s shoulders with a huge toothy grin and tail lashing in pleasure.
“We’ve created a monster.” Quinn smiled at the imp’s oh-so-smug bearing.
I turned to Dawa, crossed my arms, and leaned against my dog—actually leaned against him, like you’d prop yourself against a frickin’ wall!
“Will you pick someone to replace Muuyaw?”
“I…don’t know.” He looked lost and uncertain. “Twins are ordained by the gods. I am no longer a twin. Yet there may also no longer be a god.”
“You said your god had grown weak and difficult to contact. Maybe he’ll return stronger now that his brother is gone.”
“Perhaps.” Dawa again looked to his fallen brother. “What will be will be. In the meantime, we should return Lifebringer to its rightful place.”
I felt I should argue. Koko had crafted the shield before the fourth world even existed. He certainly wan
ted the artifact back, and we still needed to talk to Anna and piece together what drove Charles to steal it. Yet I’d seen inside Lifebringer. The shield was intricately bound to the third world. It belonged here, not in the hands of some rival faction or even Kokopelli.
After sealing Lifebringer back in its underground chamber and using Earth magic to bury Muuyaw deep in the stone of his world, we started the long trek back.
***
“You’re positive the portal will stay open for another week?” I asked Dwain when we stopped on a break.
“Yep. I never could have rigged it to work that way before, but now that the spells are nice and stable it was a breeze. As it draws in energy, the vortex will act like a closing wound. Those last three feeds will drop off like scabs.”
“That gives us time to see how things fare back home and wrangle any critters back through.”
Our little caravan had stopped just shy of the Painted Plains. The dazzling area was now truly breathtaking, an earthbound Aurora borealis lighting up the landscape ahead. New life whispered below the surface of all we passed, from rocks and trees to insects and animals. Much of what we’d heard by night now ventured out under the setting sun. Even the stream and lake with its giant carcass teamed with life eager to recycle the unfortunate creature.
Things were by no means perfect. Dawa had to face down a pack of marauding trolls wanting a target for their frustration now that they were out of a job. Luckily, the brutes still held a great deal of respect for the Ant People and moved along quietly after much posturing.
“What about Ralph?” Dwain asked.
I shrugged. The alien little creature was family. Losing him would be as bad as losing Max had been. I couldn’t bear the thought of it, but ultimately it would be Ralph’s choice.
We got ourselves moving in spite of a kind of pleasant lethargy that settled over the group. Anna shot me worried glances as we approached the flashing lights ahead. She’d told us about their run-in with the nashers, but looked worried about the rest of us instead of herself. Something changed during the battle with Muuyaw. Even after Rhonda had spilled the beans about Charles, Anna insisted on being the one to keep him under wraps until we could turn him over to some sort of Dark Court justice department.
Rhonda herself proved to be from the Dark Court and was sent as an insurance policy against Charles. Although the Company—a useful euphemism for the court—assigned the man, he’d turned out to be a double agent. Her superiors discovered his ties to a rogue faction worshipping chaos and entropy. The group found destruction preferable to creation—not what you would call the live-and-let-live type. They’d even given Charles spells to help stop us. Letting the vortex grow to consume the Earth and wreak havoc on the realms was in their best interests. Who knew what else the jerks might have done with Lifebringer?
So Charles floated along like a parade balloon behind the three-wheeler carrying Pete and Anna. I gave her a reassuring thumbs up. A magnificent jeweled outcropping sat just inside the painted plains; large shapes poked around crevasses in the rock.
“Those are way bigger than nymphs,” Quinn said as she slowed us to a crawl.
“And they don’t have wings.” I squinted through the dazzling display of crystals.
The gray-green bodies crawling over the rocks had slick bare backs. And their tails were pointed instead of segmented. One pulled its head from a fissure and jammed a handful of wriggling insects into its mouth, which sat below high, pointed ears.
“Imps eating nashers,” I said.
About twenty imps scurried around, poking their heads into nooks and crannies to get at the flying vermin. We stopped to watch the feeding frenzy and see what Ralph would do. He tried to ignore them, but couldn’t help an occasional sideways glance. There wasn’t a great deal of variation between individuals, but with things like a rounded belly here and a slightly wider set of ears there, I felt I could easily pick our Ralph out of a crowd.
“So does this mean the killer dragonfly fairies are made of chocolate and sugar?” Pete asked.
Ralph did occasionally eat “real” food, but I’d assumed his overriding passion for sweets was a racial taste. As if in response to Pete’s question, marshmallows appeared in Ralph’s left hand. Instead of eating one at a time like normal, he brought the entire wad up to his mouth for a messy bite while contemplating the other imps.
“Do you want—” I cleared my throat, swallowed, and tried again. “Ralph, do you want to go meet them?”
Black eyes glistened in a face crammed full of worry, hope, and marshmallows. He slid slowly off the tank and took a cautious step, as if waiting for me to call him back. God, I wanted to. But I didn’t. After one more look back, he walked over to the group.
An imp on the rock spotted him. Soon all those little faces turned on our little Ralphy. Imps paused with wads of nashers halfway to their mouth. Others gazed silently with wings and legs sticking between their fangs. Then a quiet riot erupted. Imps hopped down to crowd around Ralph.
We waited a good twenty minutes. As the sun set, Ralph joined his brethren in their hunt. He only cast one glance back, a silent farewell.
“Little guy’s with his family now.” Quinn sucked in a sniffle and wiped her eyes.
“Ain’t gonna like the cuisine.” Pete’s voice was gruff.
I knew how they felt, and what he meant. Although Ralph dug around in the rocks like all the rest, he always came up with fluffy white cubes. It was a good thing Quinn still drove because I wouldn’t have been able to make myself start the engine.
We made it to Dawa’s village an hour after sunset. The accommodations were not luxurious, but the simple beds and spring water were a damned sight better than our last visit.
Larmoth still limped awkwardly, but Dwain gave him the once over and swore the Ant’s body was no longer building up its protective layers. He said the problem now was breaking through what surrounded the infection in his hip and shoulder so his jump-started immune system could finish healing.
“It’s gonna be the same with most of them,” Dwain said after a long evening of house-calls. “I don’t think the newly injured will have problems, but a lot of therapy is needed for the deformed people to regain some mobility.”
“Can you train someone up before we go?”
“Best I can do is give pointers.” Dwain sank down against the wall. “But they need healing magic too, and I haven’t seen any evidence of that. Hell, they barely grasp first-aid. That shield really messed with these people.”
Later, Quinn joined me out in the square. We sat on the edge of the town well and watched the stars. I couldn’t pick out any familiar constellations.
“Do you think they’re even the same stars as back home?” Quinn rested her head on my shoulder.
The night air grew cool, and we huddled under the big blue blanket from our room. Cleaning up had made us both feel human again. My hand slid up Quinn’s side to the curve of her breast. She leaned in close, and my pulse raced despite our silly discussion.
“Seems like they’d have to be.” I nuzzled her neck and jawline, apparently unable to get enough contact. “Otherwise we’re like in a whole different universe.”
“After all we’ve been through, that’s what you think’s impossible?”
“Well, you have to admit it’s unlikely. That Sotuknang dude would have had to seal off a snapshot of the entire cosmos—black holes, flying saucers, and alien empires—just to isolate the people here who didn’t respect the land. Then he or someone else creates it all again out in our world? Just seems like a stretch. I bet the stars are all the same, and we’re just looking at the sky from a different angle here. Sort of like how you can’t find your own constellations from the southern hemisphere. Doesn’t matter anyway.”
“Oh, why do you say that?” She raised an eyebrow.
“Because all that matters is that sparkle in your pretty eyes.”
I winced at how corny that sounded out loud, but Quinn just laughed a
nd tucked in closer. She pulled my hand up to cover her breast. I marveled at the feel, until her warm lips pressed against my ear of all places.
“That tickles.” My head smacked her in the eyebrow as I squirmed away from the sensation.
“Ow, crap!” She rubbed her eye and looked down at my hand. “Really?”
“Sorry.” Unwilling to give up the wonderfully soft and warm sensation, my hand managed to keep hold of her. It went about its business, ignoring the fact my face flushed red and I floundered trying to frame a better apology.
She reached up and cradled my hand, and I leaned in as a spark raced between us. But before my mouth found hers, Quinn stopped me with a finger against my lips. My chest ached as I tried to swallow my desire. I’d read the situation wrong again.
“One ground rule.” Her finger made little circles on my lips as she whispered. “No apologies.”
The next thing I knew, our mouths and bodies were pressed together. The lonely ache shifted to hot desire as our hands explored. What rose in me had the power of Earth, the abandon of Spirit, and the hunger of Fire—as if the best of my magic joined to forge a sensation beyond all others. There was music too, a throbbing, building, wordless melody rising toward a crescendo.
At some point we moved the blanket to the ground and took full advantage of the fact the village had shut down for the night. All sense of time fled, but when the horizon lightened, we gathered ourselves up and stumbled in a tangled heap to our ground-level room to get at least some sleep. I remember how she smiled at the goofy grin stretching my face, how we sat on the bed holding hands and kissing some more, but I don’t recall getting any rest.
We dragged ourselves out for a farewell feast with Dawa’s people. I didn’t like the idea of taking food from the villagers because the crops weren’t exactly spitting out wondrous bounty yet. But the meal turned out to be the same food we’d received in captivity. Toward the end, the honey cakes came out. My stomach threatened to rebel at how they were made and the poignant reminder of our missing imp.