Finally evening came and with it the swirling wind, tossing and heaving the creaking limbs, and their clawlike branches reached out and twigs clutched and grasped. Glowing Lyssa appeared, luminous streamers and lucent tendrils fluttering in the blow, some to spin away and vanish in the twisting air. Again Trendel cast a seer’s finding, and once more pointed slightly north of west, and through the swaying woods they started, horses and mules skitting and shying, the Foxes peering about with chary eyes.
“Luba, but I hate traveling in these dark writhing woods in the black of night,” hissed Trendel. “It’s like the very trees resent our passage.”
“Perhaps they do,” said Rith, riding at his side. “Who knows what trees think?”
“Perhaps they think of men with axes,” said Trendel. “Maybe that’s why I feel so, um, so threatened.”
They rode a bit farther and suddenly Trendel raised up his silver-bladed war axe in one hand and an argent throwing axe in the other and called out, “Let be! Let be! These are not for cutting wood but for hewing demons instead.” Yet the creaking trees and clutching limbs seemed not to heed him at all.
Onward they rode through the groaning woods, the wind sobbing above, and time after time on this night they heard the flapping of wings, as if things flew across the whirling wind, things sinister and dark and dangerous. Yet when they scanned the gloom of night for creatures flying above, they saw nothing beyond the writhing limbs but dark scudding clouds in the sky.
Again daylight came and again they made camp and again a stifling day tried to smother them. And as Rith sat facing Trendel and holding his hands in hers, she looked about and shivered, then asked, “How much longer must we travel among these angry trees?”
Trendel paused in concentration, then answered, “Twelve miles less two furlongs. We should get there just before dawn.”
As midnight came and the Foxes stopped to rest the nervous horses, “What is that wild howling?” asked Trendel.
Rith glanced up through the groaning branches at the night sky above. “Wind wolves, love. Those are the howls of the wild wind wolves chasing cloud deer across the sky.”
Trendel looked at Kane. The big man raised an eyebrow and shrugged. Ky grinned then sobered. “The syldari call it the cries of beleaguered souls searching for the way to the spiritland.”
All the Foxes glanced at Lyssa standing a distance from them.
Ky reached out and touched Arik’s arm. “I’m sorry. What I said was thoughtless.”
Arik groaned deep in his throat, but he said nothing in return.
Again came the distant howls.
Now Arik looked at the others. “Mount up. It’s time we were on our way.”
In the last candlemarks before dawn they came through the groaning, clutching forest to the base of a broad treeless hill. Like a huge barrow mound it was, high and rounded and windswept. And in between clouds, by the light of waxing Orbis, they could see on the crest a broad archway, seemingly made of dark stone.
Onto the slopes they rode, yet as they started upward a wailing filled the air, as pale wraiths rose up from out of the ground and started downslope toward them.
Kane drew his spear from its saddle sling and then looked at Rith. “There, methinks, are your wind wolves, bard, howling unto the sky.”
Lyssa, in the fore, glided upslope and stood to bar the way, her light bright, theirs but a pale reflection. And she held up her arms and opened her mouth and called out to the ghostly throng, but the only thing the Foxes heard was an eerie lamentation like the weeping of an abandoned spirit. Some wraiths paused and called to Lyssa, others turned back, but many came onward still.
“Take weapons, Foxes,” barked Arik, drawing his silvered sword. Trendel set his shield to arm, and hefted his argent war axe. Rith pulled two silver daggers from her bandoliers, and Ky took her dark main gauche in hand.
And their weapons gleamed argent in the light of the twin moons shining through rifts in the clouds, all but Ky’s which reflected deadly black.
And seeing this silvered and ebon display, wraiths fell back and aside, retreating from this shining glimmer.
Even Lyssa drew apart.
Trendel looked at Ky and said, “Now we know what will kill a ghost,” then he tossed her his silver dagger.
But she tossed it right back, saying, “I need no silver to protect me, seer. My blade is more than enough.”
Once again Lyssa spoke to the wraiths—the weeping of ghostly wind the only sound she made—and the phantasmal throng retreated before her hollow wail. Back upslope they drifted, some more slowly than others, until at last they were gone, sinking back into the ground.
As Lyssa turned and came downslope, Arik and the others resheathed blades and reslung axe and spear. And the Foxes could see that Lyssa was weeping.
“What is it, my love?” asked Arik.
“Set them free?”
Arik glanced upslope. Then he turned to Rith. “If we destroy the arch, will it release them?”
Rith shook her head. “I don’t know, Arik. Perhaps. Ghosts are often bound to a place or a thing. If the arch is their focus, then, yes, I would believe that its destruction would break the bond which binds them to this plane.”
Arik looked grimly at the black arch and said to Lyssa, “When we finish our mission in the demonworld, we will see what we can do to set these spirits free.”
Lyssa nodded and looked long up the slope, then she turned her agonized face to him.
When day came, the Foxes camped at the base of the hill, but in midmorn they moved back and away and into the woods, for sleep eluded them entirely as long as they stayed on the slopes of the great barrow mound. Yet though they had moved, rest did not come easily, and even when they finally slept their dreams were filled with visions of hideous sacrifices and they woke up screaming.
Some respite came to Kane and Ky when her watch was over and she snuggled up next to the big man and he threw his arm about her, as likewise a measure of rest came to Trendel and Rith when they held onto one another. But Arik slept alone and did not fare well at all.
When twilight fell, Lyssa led the Foxes and horses and mules through a silent ghostly throng, the wraiths staying well back from the drawn silver weapons. And Lyssa spoke to weeping shades in the sound of a wailing wind, promising them when the mission was completed the Foxes would return and try to set them all free. Moaning, the spectral assembly backed down the hill, away from the Foxes, where they stood glowing dimly in the deepening dusk.
And under the twin half moons of Phemis and Orbis, already high in the early evening sky, the Black Foxes came to the Kalagar Arch, the way to the demonplane.
Set on a bed of rough black granite, it was made of a dusky stone and carved with arcane runes. It arched upward some seven yards, and its legs stood perhaps four paces apart at the base. And at the foundation each leg was square, nearly three feet to a side, but they tapered as they curved up to meet at the very peak, where the stone appeared to be but half as thick. And the arch looked to be all of a solid piece. Darker than dark, it seemed to suck at the light of the twin moons and the stars in the sky, devouring it, consuming it, as if to gorge it all down.
Arik turned to Ky. “Shadowmaster, it is up to you now.”
Ky dismounted. “This is one of the greater spells, and it will take much from me,” she said, “yet I will recover. Just put me on my horse when it is time and take me through with you.”
Kane, too, dismounted and stood at her back.
Arik looked down at her. “How long will we have?”
Ky shrugged. “A few moments at worst. More perhaps.”
Arik turned to the others, including Lyssa off to one side. “All right, then, everyone be ready to move.”
The warrior no
dded, and Rith relayed Lyssa’s message to Trendel.
Arik looked down at Ky again. “Whenever you are ready, Shadowmaster.”
Ky canted her head toward Arik.
Kane leaned forward and whispered in her ear, “I’ll be right behind you, mouse.”
Ky sat cross-legged on the ground and Kane knelt just behind. She took several deep breaths and concentrated, then she looked at the stone of the arch and whispered a word or two.
And an utterdark filled the opening, a void, a nothingness blacker than black.
Ky fell over backward, unconscious, and Kane scooped her up. “Arik,” barked the big man, and handed her up to the warrior. Arik took her across his lap. “Ride!” he commanded, and spurred forward into the void, his horse squealing as it ran through the utterdark wall, iron-shod hooves ringing on black granite stone. . . .
After him rode Rith, and behind came Trendel, with Kane on his heels, mounts or mules on tethers running after . . .
. . . and suddenly they all were gone.
44
Reprieve
(Coburn Facility)
There was bedlam in the control center—people shouting and pounding one another on the back. As Toni wiped her eyes with the heels of her hands and looked at the display, confirming that the doomsday clock had indeed stopped just thirteen seconds short of catastrophic battery failure, Mark Perry called out above the noise, “My God, why are they cheering? Arthur is dead and six people are trapped by an insane machine.”
“Oh, Mark, don’t you see?” answered Toni. “Now we have a chance. With power restored, we have more time: more time for the Foxes to win, or for us to find a way to rescue them.”
Toni keyed her comband. “Al? Al Hawkins?”
Shouts of victory down in the power room came through her communicator as Hawkins replied, “Yes, Toni.”
“Congratulations, Al. You and Kat and all the powertechs have given us a reprieve. Is Kat where she can hear me?”
“I’m right here,” Kat answered, talking through Al’s comband.
“Nicely done, Kat. Nicely done. My compliments to your crew.”
“Right. —And Toni?”
“Yes.”
“Al and I are going to survey the damage done to the substation. We’ll let you know what we find.”
“What about the reserve batteries?”
Al came back on the communicator. “The Astro is charging them up again, just in case, you know. They’ll be fully loaded in an hour or so.”
“Thank you, Al. Thank you, Kat. Toni out.”
As Toni keyed off her comband, Drew Meyer and Sheila Baxter and Billy Clay came back through the glass doors, this time wheeling a cart loaded with IC boards. They rolled it to the main holovid and Sheila flopped to the floor and opened a panel. She pulled out a circuit and examined it, then laid it aside and said, “Billy, give me the synchronizer.”
Billy searched among the boards and then handed her one. As she guided it into the tracks, Sheila said, “I’ll need the transducer next.”
Drew walked over to Toni. “I’m going to start thinking of alternate ways of getting in contact with Avery.”
“Oh? What about the holovid? Aren’t you needed here?”
Drew shook his head and gestured at Sheila and Billy. “They’ve got things well in hand.”
“What are they doing?” asked Mark.
“Replacing every board; we think the ball lightning took them all out. But we’ve determined that Avery is sending signals over the optical fibers, so replacing the holoboards should bring it back on-line.”
Toni looked up at the physicist. “Avery is sending signals to the holo?”
Drew nodded. “Yes. It’s like he wants us to see what’s going on in VR.”
“Of course he does,” growled Mark. “The murdering sonofabitch is mad—Mad Avery, the psycho sociopath. And of course he’s sending signals—the bastard is bragging.”
Kat Lawrence and Al Hawkins strode past the whining turbine. Kat waved at Susan and Luiz up on the flatbed, and she made an okay circle with her thumb and forefinger and received broad smiles and two thumbs-up in return. Kat and Al tramped onward, heading toward the northwest corner of the Coburn Building, where the distribution station was located. As they neared, a guard moved to intercept them. “Stay back. The power lines are down and this is a restricted— Oh, Al, I didn’t see who you were.”
“Roberto,” acknowledged Al. Then he pointed to Kat. “Roberto Sanchez, this is Kat Lawrence, best powertech west of the big muddy.”
Kat nodded to Sanchez, but then her eye strayed to the substation. “Jeezie Peezie, it looks like it was bombed.”
Al nodded and turned and flipped the stub of his cigarillo out into the wet dark. “Transformers exploded.”
“It must have been a superbolt,” said Kat, her stub following his.
Al sighed then looked up at the sky, still dismal, still cloud covered. Far to the northeast lightning yet flickered. “It’ll soon be dawn,” he announced.
Kat doffed her rain jacket as she walked into the control center. Looking about, she spotted Toni Adkins and went to her. Toni leaped up and shook Kat’s hand, then threw her arms about the powertech and hugged her tightly. “Thank you, Kat. You don’t know how much this means.”
Kat glanced at the gimbaled rigs, no longer in shadow. “Perhaps one day you’ll fill me in.”
“That’s a promise,” said Toni.
Kat grinned, then sobered. “The substation is blasted. Al is on the line now, talking to Solar. They’ll get here as soon as they can, but that may be tomorrow.”
Toni looked at Mark Perry. “Mark, have you got any connections with TSP? High up?”
“Tucson Solar? Sure. Bill Petrie is a friend. A close friend.”
Kat’s eyebrows raised. “Billy the Bull?”
Perry nodded and, at a puzzled look from Toni, said, “The CEO. We ski together.”
Toni grinned. “Well then, Mark, how about giving Bully Bill a call—”
“Billy the Bull,” corrected Mark.
“—give him a call and see if he can speed things up. I mean, if anything goes wrong with the Astro two-fifty, well then, we’re back in the same bind. Tell him it’s critical and, if you have to, tell him that six people’s lives are on the line.”
As Mark reached for his vidcom and stepped away, Kat turned to Toni. “So what’s the problem?”
Toni eyed Kat and then said, “This is strictly confidential.” At a nod from the powertech, Toni went on: “See those six people over there? Well, at the moment their mentalities are trapped in a virtual reality run by an AI. We think there’re only two ways they can get free: one way is if we manage to get into contact with Avery, the AI, and tell him to release them; we’ve tried this once, no, twice and failed—the first time with deadly results, and the second time Avery trapped another soul.”
“That’s one,” said Kat. “What’s the second way?”
“We think they might be able to free themselves by getting to endgame and winning.”
Kat glanced at the rigs. “That’s it?”
Toni sighed. “That’s the short of it, Kat. The long of it will take some telling, but sit down and I’ll fill you in.”
In that moment there came more cheering and shouts. Toni looked. The main holovid was up and running. . . .
“God save the King!” exclaimed Toni. “But what in bleedin’ Hades . . . ?”
She could see the alpha team, or rather their alter personas, atop a hill before some kind of archway: Kane and Ky were on the ground, with Arik and Rith and Trendel on horseback. But what was this? Off to the right floating just above the soil was Lyssa—Alice Maxon’s persona—and, bloody hell! She appeared to be a—a spectre, a ruddy ghost! And gathered on the hillside below them were hundreds of other ghosts!
In that moment, a black beyond black filled the arch, and Caine Easely, or rather his alter, Kane the warrior-healer, handed unconscious Ky up to Arik on horseback.
> “Ride!” Arik commanded, and spurred forward, charging toward the utter darkness. Kane leapt into his own saddle, and trailing mules and spurring forward charged all the rest of the group, steel-shod hooves clattering on black stone as into the darkness they ran . . .
. . . and suddenly they were gone.
45
Thralls
(Itheria)
They emerged galloping down a rounded hillock, the twin of the barrow behind, but the world itself . . . the world itself . . . it was no twin.
Hauling back on the reins, Arik skidded to a stop, his eyes wide with wonder. Dust flying, the others thundered to a halt behind him, their startled gazes sweeping outward, upward. Overhead arched a yellow-orange sky, beyond which great purple arcs swept across; and if each world was truly a sphere, then perhaps these demonic rings encircled the entire globe. Just above the horizon and off to what was perhaps the east a great black ball rode in the ocherous firmament—an ebon sun, its spectral light glancing across the land.
And out before them lay a hellish ’scape, bubbling, boiling, jagged rocks suddenly thrusting up, boulders sucked downward to vanish. Off in the distance something exploded in brilliant green fire, and heartbeats later there followed a bone jarring boom. And as far as the eye could see, the land was a frenzy of ever-changing disorder; only the barrow mound stood stable—a rock in a sea of chaos.
Arik glanced at unconscious Ky in his arms: she was dark violet and her hair was pure white. Then he looked back at his companions: Rith was colored a pale grey with whitish hair, and all the others were hued in shades of malachite, Kane’s hair a greyishgreen, Trendel’s even greener. Arik’s own hair was dark violet. Their leathers were mottled brown, and the horses grey instead of brown, white instead of black, dull green instead of roan . . .
. . . It was as if all colors had been reversed.
“Is everyone all right?” he asked. “Did everyone make it through?”
His eyes swept from one to the other, then he demanded, “Where is Lyssa?”
Shadowtrap: A Black Foxes Adventure Page 38