Blood and Stone

by King, R. L.

  He of Many Faces laughed. It too echoed through the space, full of scorn and amusement. “Oh, mageling. Your voice is as the wolf pup yapping at the bear.”

  It struck without warning, so fast that Stone didn’t have time to react. A solid wall of power slammed into his mental shields, staggering him backward. Only the ley line’s additional potency prevented them from being shattered by the attack, but even so, the psychic assault that got through spiked into his head like someone had buried a cleaver in it. He felt his physical body drop to its knees, and faintly in the distance he could hear someone calling to him, though he couldn’t make out what they were saying.

  Gritting his teeth, he got back up. “Jason...” he muttered. “Are you there?” He risked shifting a portion of his attention to the material world.

  “Right here, Al,” came Jason’s voice from behind him. He sounded concerned. “What’s happening? Are you—”

  Many Faces hit Stone with another blast of energy, powerful enough this time to knock him off his feet, somersaulting back out of the circle. He crashed to the ground in time to see Jason and Lopez flying backward as well. The circle flared brilliant blue and, with the source directing its power gone, died, leaving only the lantern Lopez had set up a short distance away and the feeble glows from the lightsticks as light sources.

  Stone struggled back to his feet, fighting feedback from the circle’s abrupt failure. It wasn’t supposed to be able to do that. He glanced around, seeing Jason also scrambling back up. He looked dazed, but clearly Stone’s shield had protected him from the brunt of it as well. There were a few advantages to being mundane, and one of the big ones was that you didn’t take as much damage from psychic attacks as mages did.

  Stone knew he only had one chance to hit the spirit hard, while it wasn’t expecting him to be able to retaliate. He could still feel the comforting power of the ley line, though not as intimately as when he’d been plugged into it via the circle. Now it was a more diffuse, all-over sort of sense that it was there.

  Staggering over to Jason, he dropped to his knees next to him. “Jason,” he rasped, “I need power. Now.” He wished he could risk using Harrison’s magic, but if he couldn’t take this thing down and his power cut out anyway, they’d all be dead.

  “Do it,” Jason growled.

  Gathering magical energy first from within himself and his focus objects and then opening himself up to the ley line, he reached his left hand out and clamped it down on Jason’s arm. He could see the shifting red form, fainter now since it was mostly in the astral realm.

  One shot.

  He was only going to get one shot.

  Make it good.

  He drew a deep breath, tightened his grip on Jason’s arm, and flung his spell at the form at full strength. He held nothing back, waiting for the torrent of power from Jason’s vast reservoir to flow into him.

  Nothing happened.

  Chapter Thirty-Two

  That wasn’t technically true. The spell still went off—but crashed against He of Many Faces’ bubbling, shifting carapace as ineffectually as a wave breaking against the side of a cliff.

  Stone sank back, panting, his face drawn with the exertion of throwing around that kind of magic without being prepared—and without roughly half the power he’d expected to use.

  “Jason!” he tried to yell, but it came out as more of a breathy shriek. “What are you doing?”

  “I don’t know!” Jason’s voice came back, bright with panic. “I tried! I couldn’t do it. I—”

  An invisible missile slammed into him, carrying him halfway across the parking lot and into the side of Lopez’s truck. He impacted with a loud thud and lay still.

  Stone scrambled to his feet, swaying. This was not good. Whatever had happened with Jason, whatever had caused him not to be able to access his friend’s power—none of that mattered if Jason was unconscious. “Stan!”

  “Here!” came a voice somewhere to his right. “Al, what—”

  “Get to the truck!” He looked around wildly, but didn’t see Many Faces’ glowing form on the astral or material plane. Where had it gone? Was it playing with them? Did it need to recharge its energy? This was going badly wrong. They needed to get out of here. “Grab Jason and get to the truck! I’ll try to hold it off!”

  Focusing his will, he struggled to rebuild his shield. It wasn’t as strong as before, even with the ley line still providing part of its power, but he hoped it would prevent Many Faces’ next attack from killing him outright. If they could make it to the truck and get away, it might let them go, as it had before.

  It wasn’t much of a hope, but it was all he had right now. This had been an ambush. Many Faces had known all along that he was coming. It had been ready for him.

  In his peripheral vision, he glimpsed Lopez moving slowly toward the truck where Jason lay. He was limping, favoring his left leg. He made it about halfway before something picked him up in an invisible whirlwind, flung him several feet into the air, and dashed him back to the ground. He landed hard with an oof and he too lay unmoving.

  Stone’s gaze darted back and forth between his two downed friends and the shimmering form hovering over Lopez’s prone body. If these things were here along with Many Faces, it could mean that it had killed someone—or more than one someone—recently. More death. Enraged, he drew power and hurled it at the form. “No, damn you!”

  He was rewarded with the satisfying sight of the nearly invisible thing lighting up bright red and then flying to pieces. So the little ones didn’t have the protection of the big one. That was something.

  One down.

  For a moment Stone could only stand there, panting, bent over with his hands on his knees. His gaze never stopped moving, though. He couldn’t afford to get blindsided again. He heaved himself forward toward the truck.

  Something slammed into him from behind, driving him forward to crash into the ground. He cried out as pain flared all over him, but once again his shield had absorbed most of the impact.

  Stone rolled and came to his knees, flinging another spell with a roar without bothering to aim it. Another shimmering form sizzled and flared bright, then dark. Stone paused a moment to be glad he’d bothered to stage his mystical commando raid on favorable ground: if the ley line hadn’t been here, even the small ones would have been too much for him after the psychic hit he’d taken from Many Faces’ frighteningly potent attacks.

  This thing was well and truly out of his league. He dragged himself up to his feet again and kept pushing toward the truck. Right now, his only chance was to take his friends and get the hell out of here, and then try to recruit more mages to help him deal with the problem.

  Those, he realized, were two fairly remote possibilities. Many Faces had him now; he didn’t think it was going to let him get away without a fight.

  Let it try, then. At least if he could wake up Lopez or Jason, he could get them to leave while he covered their escape. He’d gotten them into this—he owed them getting them out.

  His legs burned, heavy as lead as he trudged back toward the truck. He had nearly reached it when laughter echoed through the parking lot—or perhaps it was only through his mind. He was starting to have trouble telling the difference.

  An invisible wall of force hit him again, shoving him across the lot. He fell over backward and hit the ground, but the shove had not been hard enough to injure him further. Blinking sweat (or was it blood?) from his eyes, he got back up again on shaking legs. It’s trying to keep me away from the truck. Across the lot he thought he saw Lopez stir, but it was too dark to tell for sure.

  The mocking laughter sounded again. “Now, cub, see what happens when you push the bear too far.”

  From the trees came an echoing, enraged roar.

  Stone barely had time to spin to face it before a hulking, shadowy form hurtled out of the forest. Moving at frightening
speed, it was on him before he could react, almost before his stunned mind could put the connection together:

  Oh dear gods it’s possessed a bear

  He didn’t have time to get a spell off before it leaped at him, forepaws spread wide, jaws gaping open, and slammed him back to the ground. It roared in his face, deafeningly loud, and he could hear the laughter behind the roar. Its hot breath, fetid and sour, washed over him. Its paws raked at his fading shield.

  His mind spun uselessly. He couldn’t think.

  He had to think.

  If he didn’t do something right now, this creature was going to kill him.

  “Jason! Stan!” he tried calling, with a desperate hope that one of them would wake up and shoot it. But there was no answering cry or gunshot: his voice had no strength behind it as the bear’s massive weight pressed down on him. The shield held, but it was faltering. He had a few more seconds at most.

  The bear roared again. It was an inhuman sound—hell, it was an unbearish sound. There was something wild and primal and chaotic in that howl. And then he noticed its eyes: they glowed with a hellish red-orange light. It whipped its head back and forth as if fighting some inner compulsion—Stone realized this bear was every bit as much of a victim as he was. It didn’t want to attack him.

  That, right now, didn’t matter. He’d worry about the majesty of the local wildlife later. Right now, if he had to kill the bear to save his life, then so be it.

  The only problem was, he didn’t think he could do it. He could hardly get a breath now. The shield was buckling. The bear raised a paw and took a mighty swipe at him. He shrank back, but not soon enough.

  With a flare of red, the powerful blow breached the shield and his shoulder lit up in agony. He heard his thin T-shirt ripping under the bear’s curved claws, and he screamed as they sunk into his shoulder and tore bloody furrows across his skin. In the midst of the white-hot pain, a tiny thought poked some back corner of his brain: should have taken the leather jacket.

  It wouldn’t have mattered, though. Not for long. The bear roared again, its right paw crushing down on Stone’s injured shoulder as its left swiped another claw-studded blow at his chest, opening more furrows. Hot saliva dripped down from cavernous jaws, mixing with the blood that flowed freely from the wounds.

  Nearly mad with pain and panic, Stone knew it might already be too late to do anything to save himself, even if he managed to drive the bear off. But that laughter—the mocking sound of Many Faces toying with him—

  Rage rose to join the pain and the panic. If he was going to die, then damn it, he wasn’t going to simply give up and let it happen. Barely able to see through the red haze, he glared into the bear’s unnatural glowing eyes and formed a spell. He raised a shaking arm; he only needed a few seconds to pull the energy together. Only a few—

  The bear’s massive paw hit his upraised arm and he felt something snap. He screamed, the spell’s energy dissipating harmlessly, uncast. A gray haze began to form over his thoughts.

  I’m going to die. This is where it ends.

  The bear roared, rearing back with both paws raised, its eyes glowing with the mad light, its shaggy dark form towering over Stone as he lay bleeding, desperately fighting to gather enough energy for one last spell—

  He thought he heard someone yell something, but it had to be his mind playing tricks on him. The voice was—female? How could that be? There were no women here. Only Jason and Lopez, and they were both unconscious—

  The bear faltered. It stood there, balanced on its hind legs, and suddenly it seemed confused as to why it was there. It dropped back to all fours with a vast thud, but it did not hit Stone again. In fact, its paws came down on either side of him.

  The strange light was gone from its eyes.

  Another sharp call that somehow managed to encapsulate both an order and a gentle command. Stone was too far gone to make out the words, but the intent came through. The bear, confused, backed off. It glanced around for a moment as if to say what am I doing here? and then trundled off at a lope into the forest.

  The laughter died away.

  Stone didn’t move. He couldn’t move, except to writhe feebly. He lay there in the dirt, blood running from his wounds and pooling beneath him. The pain was so intense that he didn’t know how he could possibly still be conscious. He clamped his teeth down against a scream and waited for death to come. He wondered if Jason and Lopez would get out safely, and how they would explain all this.

  Footsteps approached, hurrying toward him. A figure dropped down to its knees next to him, and a female voice spoke, harsh and rough with fear: “You idiot! What the hell do you think you’re doing?”

  Chapter Thirty-Three

  With great effort, Stone opened his eyes to see the blurred form of a woman hovering over him. The pain wouldn’t let him concentrate enough to get any details, but he could tell she was a lot older than he was—at least sixty. She had long, steel-gray hair tied back in a ponytail, a tanned and weathered face, and wore a man’s Native-American print shirt and jeans. She carried a lantern. Stone tried to say something, but couldn’t do it. Instead he closed his eyes again and focused on not screaming. Despite the heat of the late-summer night, he began to shiver uncontrollably.

  More footsteps. Familiar voices this time. “Oh, God. Al!” It was Jason. “Stan! Get over here!”

  Still more footsteps, this time stumping as if their owner was having trouble walking. “Oh, man—” It was Lopez. “Jason. Get the blanket out of the truck, and the first-aid kit. We gotta get that bleeding under control and get him to a hospital.” He seemed to notice the woman then. “Do you have a phone? We need to get an ambulance up here pronto.”

  Stone opened his eyes again. They were all huddled over him now, his friends’ terrified faces gazing down at him like he was already dead. Was it that bad? He raised his head just a bit to get a look, and immediately wished he hadn’t. His T-shirt was shredded, his chest and abdomen slick with blood and slashed with deep, ragged parallel furrows. They were still bleeding. He let his head fall wearily back to the ground.

  The woman shook her head. “He won’t survive if we wait for an ambulance. Bring him. I can help.”

  Jason glared. “Listen, lady, I don’t know who you are, but look at him. He’s gonna die if he doesn’t get medical help!”

  She glared right back. “No, boy. You listen. Your friend is a fool. He’s messing with forces he doesn’t understand. He has power, yes, but no wisdom to guide him. He’s arrogant. This is the result. I can help him, but only if I do it soon.”

  Stone blinked. He felt his arms and legs growing cold even as sweat dotted his forehead and his chest, mingling with the blood. He knew what shock felt like, and this was it. The woman was right. He was dying. “You—” he whispered. “You’re a—” His voice trailed off into a wracking half-sob, half-cough. Why couldn’t he just pass out?

  Again she glared. “Of course I am! I don’t know who’s the bigger idiot: you or your friends. Now tell them to shut up and listen to me if you want a chance to live!”

  He looked at her. He didn’t have the strength even to shift to magical sight, but even without it he could sense her power. Wearily, he looked at Jason and nodded. “Let her—” he whispered.

  Jason and Lopez exchanged glances. It was clear they knew the mysterious woman was right: Stone wouldn’t survive a trip back to Ojai, even if they gathered him up and took him in the truck instead of waiting for the ambulance. They nodded to the woman. “Okay,” Lopez said. “Tell us what to do.”

  The woman bent over Stone. “You said you had a blanket. Get it. I need to get this bleeding stabilized before we can move him.” To Stone, she said, “Try not to move around. You’ve lost a lot of blood with that idiotic stunt.”

  Stone nodded, his breathing fast and shallow. His body felt as if it couldn’t decide whether to freeze or be on fire
. The old woman’s voice was harsh and matter-of-fact, but there was an undercurrent in it that was comforting on some primal level. Like he could trust her to know what she was doing. Still, his overworked mind kept trying to bring up things he needed to know: “Many—Faces—”

  “Oh, he’s rabbited for now,” she said as if she understood exactly what he meant. Her deft hands tore away the shredded remains of his T-shirt and cast it aside. “He’ll be back, but once I get you where we’re going he won’t be able to bother us for a while.”

  “How—did you—”

  “Shush,” she ordered. “This isn’t as easy for me as it used to be. Let me work.” She began probing his chest wounds with gentle pressure.

  He gasped and must have passed out for a short time, because when he awakened, Jason was back. “Okay,” the woman was saying. “Get him on the blanket. You two carry him and follow me. It’s not far.”

  The next few minutes were agony. Jason and Lopez were as gentle as they could be as they lifted him onto the blanket and picked up the two ends, but as they followed the woman’s bobbing lantern up the path out of the parking lot they couldn’t help but jostle him—especially since Lopez’s leg was clearly injured, forcing him to limp heavily. Stone kept his eyes closed and tried to will himself to pass out again, but he remained stubbornly conscious of every bump and misstep.

  After a few minutes they reached some wooden stairs, illuminated by a line of graceful pole lights. “Where are we?” Jason asked, puffing.

  “My house. I’m the caretaker up here. Hurry up—get him inside.”

  Stone began to lose the thread of the conversation. He slipped in and out of consciousness as every time the merciful blackness engulfed him, his carriers shifted him and jolted him awake again with waves of searing hot pain. He heard himself moaning, but couldn’t stop it.

  “Not much further,” Lopez’s voice came filtering through the haze. “Hang on, Al.”