Spiritride

by Mark Shepherd

  "He's right," Odras said, emerging from the trance as if from a light nap. "The wards have been violated. And . . . there's trouble. The vision is unclear. The Unseleighe were there, and they've hidden their work well." He looked directly at Petrus. "We must go back. Now."

  Petrus looked chagrined, and in pain. Without saying a word the young elf donned his helmet, turned the beemer around and headed back for Albuquerque.

  At least, Wolf considered, as he and the other elf fell in behind him, with Thorn bringing up the rear, he can think he's the leader if he rides in front of us.

  Chapter Fifteen

  Lucas was about to give the duct tape around his hands another good pull when he heard, in the distance, yet another unwelcome sound.

  A motorcycle. Now what?

  A motorcycle, then another, pulled up in front of the house; then someone entered the cabin.

  "Where is he?" a tinny, metallic voice roared through the building. The door to the room flew open. The thing was tall and dark and freaky looking, with pointed ears, a pointy face and clothing straight out of the middle ages. His words sounded artificial, like a chip voice. It was not human. God only knew what it was.

  "Where is he?" the creature repeated, kneeling down on one knobby knee. It held up a hand, each finger having a long, sharpened claw.

  "I-If you're talking about the wolf and the cougar, they're long gone," Lucas stammered out.

  The creature regarded him curiously. He stood to his full height and folded his arms behind him, cupping his elbows.

  "Wolf. And cougar?"

  One of the creatures explored the wrecked room. "Gods dammit, Japhet, it smells like cat piss in here," it said. "And there's no way that kid could have gotten out of those cuffs."

  "Wolf," the creature said, his face darkening, if such were possible on the already grim expression. "And . . . cat."

  "Blood," the other said, looking at the floor. "Here, here . . . and here."

  "Nargach's pet," the one named Japhet said bitterly. "I needed Wolf to defeat him, and he knew it."

  Lucas had no idea what they were talking about, but whatever it was he hoped it would distract them enough to leave him alone.

  "You," the creature said. With one swipe of a claw he cut the duct tape around his ankles. "On your feet. You're coming with us."

  Lucas felt weak in his knees as he stood up.

  "If you try to escape we'll kill you," Japhet said. "My patience is expended. Don't test it further."

  "Where are we going?" Lucas asked conversationally as they led him outside.

  " 'Where are we going?' " the creature mimicked, with a generous helping of sarcasm. "To Hell. A place you've never been before."

  Don't count on it, Lucas thought as they shoved him forward.

  The Unseleighe mage carried her with little trouble through the Gate to Underhill.

  Where are we? Wenlann thought. Right away she noticed the absence of a marble slab, the customary flooring for a permanent Gate, and wondered how long it would remain open.

  This was not a portion of Underhill she knew; but she had heard of this place, recognizing it by the featureless mist that spread across the land. This place was a pocket of the Unformed. They came across a cluster of boulders, then entered a cave. Inside was the subdued, ambient light one found throughout Underhill. Then the mage stopped and lay her on the ground roughly. She was still paralyzed, and unable to break her fall. Her head hit the floor with just enough pain to rekindle her anger.

  Now what? she thought, considering a number of unpleasant scenarios: rape, torture, mutilation, more rape. The Unseleighe were famous for it all, and she hoped this mage would be the exception. Her paralysis spell began to loosen, and she sat up slowly, rubbing circulation into her arms.

  "Those wards that were supposed to protect you did nothing of the sort," the mage began. "You may call me Nargach. And I am not the evil mage you think me to be."

  Yeah, sure. We'll see about that, she thought. The mage had sat on an extension of the wall that resembled a chair, or even a throne. He looked comfortable, even kingly.

  But he's not Japhet Dhu, the acting king of this particular rat's nest. A rival? Good chance.

  "And you may call me Wenlann," said Wenlann. "What do you plan to do with me?"

  Nargach shook his head slowly. "You don't understand. It is I who will ask the questions. Or I will simply revive the paralysis spell . . . but you don't want me to do that, do you?"

  "Of course not," she replied, sitting with her legs crossed.

  Nargach leaned forward. "Now, little one. You have a mage in your company by the name of Odras. Tell me about him. Tell me everything you know." He sat back, awaiting her answer.

  Odras? What did she know about him? Very little, that's what.

  "Take your time," Nargach said casually. "We have plenty of time."

  "Well," Wenlann began tentatively. Where to begin when there is no beginning? "After the fall of Avalon, we had no mages, so we recruited . . ."

  "Oh, come now," Nargach snorted irritably. "Every soul in Underhill knows Aedham is a mage."

  " . . . we recruited," Wenlann continued, unperturbed, "volunteers to help us rebuild. They came from all over. Odras is a different sort of Seleighe."

  "Oh, a different sort, to be sure," Nargach said, looking like he was about to laugh. "Please, go on. This is most amusing."

  What is this mage getting at? "I believe he came from an Elfhame beyond Outremer. An obscure one." She didn't see the harm in letting this bit of information out to the enemy, since it was readily obtainable elsewhere. "I don't know the name of it."

  "Yes, well, that I can believe. Is that all?"

  "I'm afraid so." Out of the corner of her vision she saw the cave entrance a short distance away. She made a note of its location and returned her attention to Nargach.

  "You may wonder why I'm interested in this mage," said Nargach, sounding tired, but not defeated. "It amazes me that you would trust a stranger so."

  "And why shouldn't we?" she said heatedly, immediately regretting her bold question.

  "Because, my dear child," Nargach said, ignoring her impertinence, "Odras is an Unseleighe."

  Now that stopped her cold. Granted, this was the kind of tactic the Unseleighe would use to undermine the enemy, spreading rumors, breaking down credibility. But there was something about the way Nargach said it, combined with his line of questioning prior to the surprising announcement. She believed him. Or he is incredibly adept at manipulation.

  "We are both old, Odras and I," Nargach continued. "Very old. We're from the original Unseleighe court, before it split up into its various factions. What is left of our clan resides at the opposite edge of Underhill, on a mountain we have come to call home. Odras and I studied together, mastered our avocation together, killed Seleighe together."

  He paused, letting that last bit sink in. "Then he grew weak. Found our school of thought to his disliking. Did not have the courage to subdue the lesser creatures of Underhill, and sought a different path. A lesser, weaker path."

  Wenlann listened in rapt attention. If it were a lie, it was a fascinating one.

  "Our master didn't like the direction he was going, and called him to task. He refused what was asked of him. He would have been executed as a traitor had he not been so light of foot, and fled."

  Now this was starting to reek of falsehood. No Unseleighe would be able to escape like that, and if one did where would they go? No Seleighe court would have them. They would be alone and isolated. Given the age Odras appeared to be, it would have had to be a miserable existence. Alone . . . for centuries.

  A rustle at the mouth of the cave drew their attention. Nargach shot back immediately with a warning look. The gathering of figures at the cave entrance approached them; the one leading looked like Zeldan, with the pointed face, the black cape. Only when he was within speaking distance did she realize he was not Zeldan, but his son. But Japhet wasn't even looking at her as he storme
d over to Nargach; it looked as if they would come to blows right then. The leader was furious about something.

  This should be interesting, she thought, sitting back, restraining her amusement.

  "My dear Lord Japhet, whatever is the problem?" Nargach said in a most oily and patronizing tone.

  "You know precisely what's wrong," Japhet said.

  "Perhaps I don't," Nargach said, suppressing a yawn. "Why don't you enlighten me?"

  Japhet wasn't reaching for his sword, but his right hand twitched in that direction. "Your pet, Ha-Sowa. Seems she has a mind of her own. Seems she's attacked one of our prisoners, the human, Wolf, and spirited him away. Didn't I expressly prohibit such an action?"

  Now this was no longer funny. A cloak of fear and anxiety settled over her, but she remained as still and silent as possible.

  "Perhaps you did—"

  "Perhaps nothing!" Japhet shouted. "What have you done with our human mage?"

  Nargach regarded Japhet with a look of false patience. "Lord Japhet, I must remind you that you insisted on returning to Underhill. Ha-Sowa was a creature of the humans' world, and you knew she would not be accompanying us down here, because I told you she wouldn't. Certainly you can't expect me to control the demon from down here, can you?"

  Japhet seethed, but it was starting to look like this was a stalemate.

  Nargach continued, "At any rate, we have neither Wolf nor Ha-Sowa, so that puts us back to where we were, does it not?"

  Wenlann saw what this really meant, though it remained unspoken: Now we are even. During this brief exchange she saw the weakness she could exploit to escape this charming band of elves.

  Divide and conquer. It even looks like they're well on their way to doing just that, all by themselves.

  Japhet turned his angular face toward Wenlann. "Secure the Seleighe wench," he said. "I don't want her to be any more trouble."

  "With magic?" Nargach replied, sounding like this might be a problem.

  "Yes, with magic! What else? Or is that beyond your abilities?"

  Nargach ignored the insult, but held a hand to his forehead and closed his eyes. "I feel weak, my Lord. Too much magic will do that, you know. If you really need my abilities, perhaps I should conserve them for more important things. I feel a battle coming on."

  Japhet threw his hands up in the air. "Then secure her with that," he said pointing a clawed finger at the roll of gray duct tape the other elf clutched.

  Then Wenlann noticed the human boy, who had been behind Japhet, out of sight. Duct tape bound his arms behind him. He had a vacant, distant look as he stared at the ground. Nargach came over and pulled her arms roughly behind her.

  "Feet too," Japhet said. "Both of them. I don't want to have to keep a constant watch. And I don't want them walking away." Japhet paused, as if considering an amusing thought. "Not that there's anywhere for them to go."

  The motel room door had been left open. Odras entered behind Petrus, and growled deeply in frustration.

  "She should have gone with us," the mage said, but Petrus wasn't listening. His foot had connected with something on the floor, and when he looked down he saw one of several pieces of the laptop. It had been smashed mercilessly, the two halves separated, the keys spread hither and yon like broken teeth. Damn the Unseleighe and their hatred for technology! He knew Japhet couldn't have known what the laptop was, other than a piece of human tech; and that had been the only reason they'd destroyed it. Among the broken pieces of laptop he saw the wolf-tooth necklace, intact. He absently picked it up and put it in his pocket.

  Looks like we won't be contacting the King anytime soon. But dammit, they have Wenlann, he thought in anguish. And it's all my fault.

  "Her elvensteed will know what happened," Odras said, walking outside. Petrus moved to follow him, nearly walking directly into Wolf.

  The human's look stopped him short; Wolf stared at him accusingly. We left her alone. I'm at fault, and I know it, he thought, then reminded himself, we need his help.

  Wolf said quietly, "Were you supposed to be in charge of this operation?"

  "Look, I really don't want to hear it," Petrus said. "We screwed up. I screwed up. I didn't know the Unseleighe had cased us out. But we need you. Do you have any idea where they've taken her?"

  Wolf's expression softened, but his gaze remained intent. "I think I know exactly where they've taken her. The cabin."

  Thorn came into the room, holding his leather helmet in his hand. "Excuse me, but I'm sensing the same energies that brought you here. It's coming from where they took Wolf."

  "Another Gate," Petrus said.

  Odras stood up from kneeling beside the elvensteed. "I had to remove a paralysis spell. They used one on Wenlann—"

  "We know where she is," Petrus interrupted. "If we hurry, we might make the cabin before they Gate out of here."

  And if we fail . . . he thought, but didn't finish the thought.

  Wolf kicked the red bike back to life. "Let's get the hell out of here."

  Having bound Wenlann and Lucas with tape, the Unseleighe left them to their own devices, limited as they were. The youngster was still a puzzle, and Wenlann considered ways she might put him at ease so they could understand each other a little better. They were lying more or less side by side, face down and looking at each other.

  "Who are you?" the boy asked.

  "I'm one of the good guys," she said, "And they are the bad guys. But I guess you already knew that."

  His eyes widened. "Yeah, but what the hell are you? Martians?"

  Wenlann sighed, considering the various half-truths the elvenfolk had offered the humans over the centuries. At least he's over the first shock of seeing us. Considering what he had likely already seen, and what he would probably see in the future, she decided that nothing short of the truth would do, no matter how bizarre it would sound.

  "We are a race of beings, different from humans. But we are not from what you call outer space." The right side of her face was lying against the floor of the cave. In spite of the work some mage had put into making the cave, the surfaces were still Unformed-bland. Neither dirt nor rock, a sort of non-surface that, like everything else down here, had no real odor. "We come from another, well, dimension."

  "Like the one we're in now," he said. "I sensed something funny about the doorway we went through. I felt things change."

  More sensitive than I thought. This might not be so difficult after all. "That's right, this is part of the dimension where we're from. We're elves."

  The left side his face was likewise resting on the surface, and despite his distorted face his smile was sincere. "No shit," he said. "What I want to know is, where is this place? Am I going to go back home?"

  Good question, she thought, but one with an answer. "Yes, we are both going home. It's just going to take a bit of time to figure things out."

  "I'm Lucas," the boy said. He struggled against the tape behind him, and succeeded only in turning himself around a revolution.

  "And I'm Wenlann," she said. "And the rest of these guys, they belong to another clan. My clan is far away, and it doesn't look like they'll be much help. The leader, the one who brought you in, his name is Japhet Dhu. His clan and ours have been at war for some time—our king killed Japhet's father, Zeldan, after Zeldan had killed the king's father and destroyed our kingdom. We were in the middle of rebuilding when the son showed up."

  Lucas rolled back over. "Looks like you're all a little outnumbered."

  Wenlann turned loose a long sigh. If this human child can see that, then why can't Petrus? "The plan was not to take them on. We were to locate them, inform the King of their whereabouts, and lead the forces to them. But as you can see," she said, moving her taped arms, "This didn't go as planned."

  "Okay, so they have you now," Lucas murmured. "What use are you tied up like this? Are they holding you for ransom?"

  The question chilled her as surely as this cave would have if it were real, dank, and located north
of the arctic circle. During the entire ordeal of capture the notion of ransom hadn't occurred to her. That's just the sort of thing Japhet would contrive. But what would he ransom me for?

  "I supposed they might be," she said at length. "Actually, it's a very real possibility." Unwilling to take the situation lying down, as it were, she sent a tentative mental probe to see what node stores, if any, were nearby. Reaching for and using such energy was difficult for her, but not impossible, but she didn't want to alert anyone to her attempt. However even her subtle exploration of her environment met with a dark wall, similar to that of the paralysis spell, blocking her reach. Oh well, Wenlann thought, relaxing. It was worth a try.