by P. R. Frost
“I thought this area was supposed to be covered in rock art,” Gollum said. He looked all around him with a puzzled frown.
I searched, too. “Look up.” I pointed.
“How come I didn’t see that?” he gasped, taking in the black on red, or beige on black handprints, stick figures, and squiggly lines that marched across the rock face twenty or more feet above us.
“Because you’re too tall. You have to look down to keep from stepping on other people. I have to look up to see around you.”
“Being five foot nothing has its advantages.” He peered down at me. Then closed the difference in our heights for a quick kiss. Sweet and affectionate.
It ended too soon.
“That’s five foot two,” I countered, still gazing fondly into his eyes. “Grandma Maria is five foot nothing.”
“Camera?” He broke the moment.
I hauled it out of my pocket, one-handed, reluctant to let go of him with the other.
Between the two of us, we snapped over one hundred photos. A growing awareness of isolation and the freshening wind drew us closer together. We progressed along the trail more rapidly than we expected.
“That looks like a family dancing together,” I whispered, pointing to a line of stick figures holding hands. Snap, snap.
“I think that one next to them is a shaman, see the antlers on his head?”
“The squiggle lines could be water. See there’s a break where they spread out, a river crossing.”
“I’d almost bet the single squiggle is the course of a journey, each bend could represent a day’s travel.”
My eyes kept returning to the groups of human figures dancing in a circle. Faint smudges, an almost round “head” with triangular shoulders and long body trailing off, above them looked ominous. But they could be just smudges, not necessarily spirits or predators.
My vision tilted and rocked. For half a moment the images and symbols came alive. “Guardians protecting an important shaman,” I whispered. “Worshipers coming here in respect, offering food and water to the spirits. Another man who doesn’t respect anyone, not even himself, is cast out.”
The world reeled around me clockwise, then reversed and halted back at the beginning, bringing me back into myself, in the here and now.
“Interesting idea,” Gollum mused. He took more pictures.
“What about the cross—recent Christian missionaries?” I asked, pointing to another image near the family.
“Judging from the patina that has regrown, I think it’s older. More likely it represents the four directions. See how the top doesn’t point straight up? It goes off to the side a bit; could be aimed at true north. Hard to tell. My sense of direction is twisted around.”
“Mine, too.” I stopped for a moment and closed my eyes, trying to feel the tug of the north pole, just like Scrap taught me. The increasing wind tugged at me from all directions. I had no sense of where I was. Or when I was.
“Scrap?” I called, hoping he’d help me out.
Silence.
Swallows chirping and swooping about signaled water. We searched further. The trail ended.
The birds showed us the recess that held a miniature reservoir. Hidden beneath another of the ubiquitous arches, I had to lean precariously over the top of a boulder to catch a glimpse of the clear pool. If Gollum hadn’t steadied my balance, I might have fallen in. The air inside the chamber—roofed to slow evaporation, and open on two sides and part of a third—smelled damp, but not rank. I guessed the sandstone filtered the water clear as it seeped from above.
“Easy to get trapped in there.” I shuddered and withdrew quickly. Drowning in the desert seemed a particularly horrible way to go. I was certain some villain in my next book would meet his justly deserved end that way.
“No wonder Mouse was able to hide out for months. Unless you know this ‘tank’ is here, you’d never find it,” Gollum said. His voice echoed in the water chamber as he took his own turn looking in.
“We’d better start back. That storm is getting closer. This trail looks like a flood channel and I don’t want to get caught here when the rain hits,” I warned.
We spotted more petroglyphs and arched caves on the way back, taking yet more pictures.
The parking lot was empty by the time we reached our car.
Something ominous crawled up my back.
“I don’t like this,” I said. “Something smells wrong.”
“It’s just the electricity in the air. Extra ozone. We’ll get thunder and a lightning show before long,” Gollum reassured me, stowing the backpack.
“If Scrap were here, he could scout ahead for us.”
“Where is he?”
“I don’t know. He refused to come. Something about weird magnetics among the rocks scare him.” I saw again the drawing of the disrespectful man being cast out of the valley.
“I don’t like the sound of that. Let’s start back. Keep your eyes peeled.”
We headed back the way we’d come. Having learned my lesson with the rock symbols, I looked up as well as all around.
“There!” I pointed to some unusually large birds circling an area south of the road, west of the Visitor Center. They flew an ever-changing spiral, moving west and then south, never getting too far off one central point. The silhouettes were wrong, proportions distorted. Nothing sleek and aerodynamic about those airborne beasts.
Once more, I thought of gargoyles watching and waiting.
“I don’t think those are birds,” I said.
“But they are predators,” Gollum agreed.
A flash of lightning left black spots in my vision and strange afterimages. But I’d seen the distinctive ragged bat shape of the wings of Gregbaum’s mutant faeries.
Chapter 36
Rock, one of the hardest substances in nature is gently shaped and molded by water, one of the most pliable and flexible substances.
THE RING BURNS HOT and heavy in my hand.I’ve got to drop it But I can’t. Tess is nowhere near. She has to have it on her finger to invoke universal laws of possession.
I seek in a wider and wider circle for her. We are so tightly bonded I should be able to just follow the threads of love tinged with her unique colors of gold and yellow and topaz. They are faint. Something masks them from my perceptions.
There is only one place that I know of that can do that.
The Valley of Fire.
My blood runs cold with fear.
She needs me. Trouble looms on her horizon. The mutant faeries circle and swarm. Their flight plan brings them closer and closer to her. They draw their swords and fold their wings to dive.
I have to go to Tess. Now
Cautiously, I circle her essence, avoiding the flea demons on guard in the chat room. They nip at me, over and over, never satisfied with just a little bit of blood. Always needing more. Just like a vampire. Or a demon.
Then, at last, I find a faint echo of my Warrior. That tentative signature is weaker than the ring when it bulged through the dimensions.
I have to trust my instincts and my love for Tess to break through the barriers. With a deep breath, I close my eyes and plunge.
I fall and fall through time and space. I keep falling until I sense air around my wings. At the last instant they snap open and slow my descent to Tess’ shoulders.
I rub my cheek against her hair, grateful to be back with her. I am complete now. We have a mission.
She commands me to her hand, needing me to transform and fight those awful red-and-black faeries.
My blood runs hot now. I flash from fog to flamingo to poppy in an instant. I stretch and thin. My ears start to curve into one blade, my tail sharpens into the other.
Before I lose it, I drop the ring onto her finger.
And then, just as I am almost complete, Tess twirling me like a baton to help me, something reaches out and grabs my essence.
I am yanked away from my Tess into blackness.
“What!” I screeched.
Scrap was here, in my hands, fast becoming a weapon to fight those horrible beasts. And then he disappeared. Just winked out . . . no, more like continued to stretch wire-thin and rush through the air to someplace . . .
Someplace like that towering rock formation about a half mile from the small parking lot and picnic ground where we’ve pulled over. A boulder on top looked like a round hay bale resting on its side. Below it a tower with protrusions and arches and openings just like . . .
“Gollum, look at those rocks.”
“Which rocks. There are dozens of them.” Again he focused at foot- and eye-level as he shrugged into his backpack and pulled a collapsible walking stick from a side pouch.
“Look up. And out.”
And then he spotted it and his jaw dropped. There, in the near distance was the side profile of the Goblin Rock we sought.
“Why didn’t we see it on the way in?”
“Because the angle and the light were wrong. The sun was behind the clouds. Now it’s below them, coming at us sideways.”
I took off running. I had to see more of that rock, test it, probe it, make certain this was the one we wanted and that a portal truly did exist.
Eight winged forms, with blood-red scaly skin, wearing black leather knickers and vests to match their wings, alit between me and the formation. The last remnants of sunlight glinted on the blue-black steel of their broadswords.
“What better signal that this is what I’m looking for than you guys guarding it,” I sneered at them.
Where in the hell was Scrap when I truly needed him?
“Tess, catch,” Gollum called. I reached up, only half daring to turn.
His aim was true. The walking stick sailed into my hand, fully extended. It had a cork knob on one end, and a small point on the other.
Not exactly a Celestial Blade, but something. I grasped it like a quarterstaff and faced my opponents.
Gollum’s ragged breathing sounded in my ear. Crap. Now I’d have to protect him as well as myself and get us out of here.
“I’ll watch your back,” he said.
I didn’t have time to snort. The first of the mob lunged at me with his four-foot blade.
I blocked it with the staff, heavy metal ringing against lightweight metal. The staff bent but didn’t break.
A quick series of attacks and parries. My ears clanged from the noise.
Movement on my periphery. Scrap? Please, oh, please, let it be Scrap.
No such luck. Just the bad guys trying to circle us.
I kept the attacker in my center focus, trying to maneuver him around so I only had to battle on one front. Gollum’s body warmth against my back didn’t reassure me much.
Then a whoosh of air and a black-and-red form slammed against a small outcropping five yards away. Air rushed out of his lungs and his neck bent unnaturally.
“What?”
“Aikido. I used his own energy against him. Quite an interesting phenomenon . . .”
“Not now, Gollum. Just get me his sword.”
“Oh. Yes. Of course.”
The bad guys backed off a bit, suddenly wary of us. Easy prey had turned into nasty cats. I was madder than a wet cat—mad at Scrap for disappearing and mad at myself for dashing into this situation.
Mad made me mean. I’m not proud of it, but it is a fact.
I swung the staff like a club, aiming for the gut of my nearest opponent. He skipped back, confused.
These guys weren’t terribly bright, didn’t know how to think on their feet.
A fat raindrop hit my forehead with a splat. Then another. The dry sandy soil sopped up the first drops thirstily. But it came too fast, drenching me in seconds. The ground beneath my feet became a slurry.
Once more, I faced these guys with treacherous footing.
Shit! Actually I said something a lot stronger and less polite.
But if I had trouble finding traction in hiking boots, they weren’t doing any better in bare feet.
The next thing I knew Gollum slid a sword grip into my left hand. I’d been too busy watching red-faced bad faeries watch me to notice how he got it.
“I’ll love you forever for getting this,” I whispered, dropping the staff as I gripped the sword.
“I’ll hold you to that.”
Using both hands on the big grip, I lifted it high over my head. Not exactly a fourteen-ounce fencing foil. But thanks to my training with the Sisterhood of the Celestial Blade, I knew how to use it.
My shoulders groaned. I’d skipped weight training over the last few months.
My closest opponent opened his eyes wide. I saw fear reflected there.
I swung the blade and felt it connect with muscle and bone.
An unearthly screech pierced my eardrums. I didn’t dare cover them to block out some of the pain.
Another, more daring (or desperate) bad guy jumped toward me, using his wings to get him close. Too close.
He should have read the rule book. If you are close enough to kiss, you are too close to fence.
I wasn’t fencing. I was fighting for my life.
An upper cut of the sword connected between his legs and bounced back. Damn, he must have been wearing a cup.
He grinned at me, showing far too many razor-sharp teeth, not unlike Scrap’s multiple rows.
A quick spin and I backkicked into his gut.
He doubled over with a whoosh. I used my momentum to get the sword up and slashed his neck. The rain turned his black blood gray. It joined the small river forming at my feet and disappeared downslope—into the base of the goblin rock.
I smelled sulfur and rotting garbage tinged with black licorice.
They’d had enough. With another unearthly screech, they all lifted into the air, grabbed their fallen comrades, and sped off to the south, trying to outrun the storm.
I tracked them as they disappeared into the lowering clouds. For the first time in my life I wished I had bat wings to help me fly after them.
“Tess, we’ve got to get out of here.” Gollum sounded frantic. “We’re standing in the middle of a wash. It’s going to flood!”
As if to emphasize his words, lightning seared across the sky. Thunder boomed before the jagged fork had completely disappeared. For half an instant everything in my path showed sharp and clear in the too bright light.
Afterimages nearly blinded me.
Still holding the sword—don’t ask me why I didn’t throw down the extra weight—I grabbed his outstretched hand. He scooped up the backpack by one strap with the other and we dragged each other uphill, toward the SUV.
Another flash and boom. This time I spotted a black winged image at the lower edge of the clouds. One of the black faeries pointed his sword toward us. The next bolt of lightning channeled down the blue-black blade directly into the gas tank of the SUV.
Flames and heat erupted in a tower of black smoke. The blast sent me reeling backward. I lost my balance and fell into a gush of water at the edge of the wash.
Where am I?
I want to choke and sob in fear. I can’t find my body.
Total blackness surrounds me, robs me of all my senses. No smell, no sight, not even a hint of a taste on my forked tongue.
Do I still have a tongue?
Tess!I scream with my mind. The words echo back to me, without sound.
Okay, officially time to panic.
Tess, help me!
Nothing.
I am nothing.
My Tess will die because I am nothing.
Chapter 37
Rain is scarce in the Valley of Fire, but when it comes, it can cause torrential flash floods that alter the landscape in a moment.
“OFF YOUR ASS, sweetheart. We’ve got to get to higher ground.” Gollum hauled me to my feet, one-handed. The muscles in his arm strained and stood out.
A sudden deep lethargy washed through me, stronger than the waters swirling at my feet, reaching for my knees.
Sharp pain on my cheek.
“Sn
ap out of it, Tess. This is no time to go all weak and girlie on me.”
“What? How dare you!” Anger heated my blood. I still felt heavy, but enough strength trickled through me to follow Gollum. As long as he held my hand.
I felt like a psychic vampire, feeding off his energy just to stay alive.
We scrambled and reached. Stepped and slid. Eventually, he hauled me over the lip of a rock into a cave opening. This time he needed both arms to get me up.
“Is it safe?” I choked out through chattering teeth. My wet underwear clung to me like a second skin of snow. Jeans and sweaters did little to ward off the chill.
“As safe as anywhere. Water formed the cave, trickling through here over aeons. I don’t think we’ll get inundated. The walls are still pretty thick.
I checked them out skeptically.
“Trust me on this, Tess. I know how to survive in the bush.”
“You also know some pretty esoteric martial arts.” Memory of the battle returned to me. Memories of waking to find U.S. Marines passed out on the floor with bruises on their throats chilled me more than the rain.
“Well, yes. I had to switch from some more aggressive and lethal forms after I took a vow of nonviolence. But that was before I met you and learned I might need to more actively defend myself upon occasion.” He chattered on, filling the cave with calm words as nature raged outside.
A fierce wind howled through the canyons, adding its voice to the thunder, the pounding rain, and the rushing floods.
“Nonviolence?” I had to back up a bit, having lost my thoughts while he pulled a tiny camp stove out of his pack and lit it. The acrid scent of canned fuel burning sharpened my wandering focus. “Is that part of the Peace Corps?”
“Well, not exactly. I wasn’t in the Peace Corps. Or at least, not what you think of as the Peace Corps. But we did keep the peace in a way.”
“You’re rambling, Gollum. Covering the truth with so many words I can’t find the lie. You’re very good at that.”