Sunshaker's War

by Tom Deitz

  He hugged him impulsively, hugged him long and hard, like a brother he might never see again. His own eyes misted. “Take care, Finno. Let me hear from you if you can. You know I’ll be thinkin’ ’bout you.”

  “And I you,” Fionchadd replied, planting matching kisses on each of David’s cheeks—kisses David gave back impulsively. “And thank you…brother. No real brothers have I, but you have become like one to me.”

  “You too, man!”

  Fionchadd embraced Alec then, and Liz, thanked them both, and they could have stayed there half the morning wishing to go ashore, yet fearing to end what might truly be an ending. Eventually, though, a pounding on the hull drew their attention that way. “Hey,” Calvin yelled, from where he stood waist deep in water. “You guys don’t get your butts down here, I’m gonna have to come up there and drip all over that pretty boat—and I don’t think the owner’d like that very much—least that’s what Finno told me when he came flyin’ up to me in bat shape a little while ago! Like to’ve scared the crap outta me,” he added, with one of his famous grins.

  “So that’s where you went to so fast after breakfast,” David said, lifting a wry eyebrow in Fionchadd’s direction.

  Fionchadd tried to look innocent, but then his face broke into a grin. “Go, foolish mortal,” he intoned with obviously bogus arrogance. “I would not have my effort be in vain!”

  David started to reply with some comment about vampire bats and veins, then caught himself. He’d never be able to say enough, he knew, there was always one more thing to be said to a friend upon parting. Finally he simply gave Fionchadd a high-five, and climbed over the side. Alec and Liz joined him—Liz on David’s back.

  “Don’t look back!” Fionchadd called, and they followed his advice until they felt dry land under their feet. When they did look back, it was to see a pink mist slowly fading above the morning sea.

  “So where are we?” David asked, surveying the land ahead. It was typical Georgia coast, or typical deserted Georgia coast, anyway, of which there was not a great deal. White sand marched into grassy dunes which in turn invaded stands of scrubby live oaks, the whole strewn with what looked like storm wrack. There were no obvious buildings. And then he saw the wooden sign driven into the ground nearby: CUMBERLAND ISLAND NATIONAL SEASHORE.

  “Well, that answers that, I guess,” David said with a grin, flopping an arm across Calvin’s shoulders. “But how in the hell did you get here? Best I can figure, you oughta still be stuck in Galunlati!”

  Calvin had already opened his mouth to answer when a familiar voice interrupted with an irrepressible cackle as its white-haired owner rose from where he had been sitting in the scanty shelter of a large chunk of driftwood. “Come the same way I did!”

  “Uncle Dale!” David shouted joyfully. He slipped free of Liz and Calvin and dashed forward to embrace the old man. “Oh Jesus, Uncle Dale, how in the world…?”

  “Out of the world,” the old man laughed. “Ask Mr. Calvin, I can’t explain a word of it.”

  David turned back to his friend. “Okay, Fargo, spill it.”

  Calvin sighed. “Sure…but back in the trees, okay? I’ve had enough sunshine for a while.”

  David started to follow him, but froze. “How is Galunlati?” he asked carefully.

  Calvin shrugged. “Don’t know for sure, but I reckon it’ll be fine now.”

  “You act like you know what’s been goin’ on.”

  “I do, as a matter of fact.”

  “Oh?”

  “Yeah.”

  They had reached the shelter of the trees now, and David saw that a breakfast had been spread across a blanket on the ground: a selection of McDonald’s biscuits, a thermos of coffee, hash browns, even orange juice.

  “Not the best,” Uncle Dale admitted. “But the most available.”

  “It’s great,” David assured him as he grabbed a ham-and-cheese. He glanced back at Calvin. “So spill it, man.”

  Calvin sighed again and leaned back against a convenient live oak. “Well,” he began, “I flew north searchin’ for Uki, like we’d agreed. But there was one thing we forgot, which was that he still had his ulunsuti. He’d been usin’ it to spy on us—at least as far as the stuff in our World was concerned—and so was ready when we popped into Galunlati. Not as ready as he’d have liked, natch, since a couple of glitches kinda landed us in the wrong place—but ready. Unfortunately, the place we wound up was pretty remote, so even Uki couldn’t get anyone there quickly, but I met his emissary—it was Awahili the Eagle, and he told me that Uki had decided the only fast way to get Finno to the coast was for you two to shapeshift—which was exactly what you had already done. He had only five scales left, and couldn’t spare all of ’em, but he gave me one so I could reenter our world, and another so I could rejoin him some time down the line. But he told me to tell you to use Finny’s blood to empower the scale you already had with you, since he thought Faery blood might be strong enough to get through two sets of World Walls, and he had a good idea Finny could figure out the ritual. He also sent a strong north wind to speed us both along, and I tried to catch up to you, but you were always ahead. I got to the beach just in time to see you guys burn your scale and vanish. And by then I was so tired that war or no war, I only wanted to sleep. I did for a little while—had no choice—but then I decided it was time I got the hell out of there. I figured you guys were back in our World, since that was the plan, and I thought you had to stop off there on your way to Faerie. So I aimed for there when I burned my scale. Called on all three of you,” he added. “Got no answer. It was kinda the world’s ultimate wrong number. Well, I thought this was a mess ’cause I only had one more scale. I couldn’t think of who to try next, since it needs to be a person with Power. I thought of Sandy, but wasn’t sure how ‘powerful’ she is, and I didn’t really wanta wind up back in Carolina, and had no clear destination along the coast. So I settled on Uncle Dale, figurin’ he was a better risk and was that much closer—at least in Georgia.”

  He paused, took a long draught of coffee. “Well,” he continued, “imagine my surprise when I burn the last scale—and find myself somewhere in the wilds of middle Georgia watchin’ an old man talkin’ to the State Troopers ’bout a certain red ’66 Mustang they’d found abandoned with suspicious damage around the front end. Trouble was, I didn’t have any clothes on as a result of my latest round of skinchanging, so I couldn’t come out until they’d left, but they finally made a couple of calls and evidently ended up pretty satisfied. Luckily, this was some time ’round midnight our time, so they didn’t see me pop in. But anyway, I got with Uncle Dale, and we decided to come on south in the Mustang, it bein’ in better shape than the truck. Weren’t sure where to go, exactly, so we just sorta winged it. Figured there’d be some kind of manifestation in this world if the battle happened as planned, so we went lookin’ for bad weather. Wound up at the Cumberland Island Ferry, and that was really a mess, since they’re kinda picky about who goes over and when. Uncle Dale knew one of the rangers from when he’d been stationed up in Enotah County, though. He pulled some strings, got us over.”

  “And that’s it,” Uncle Dale finished. “You guys ready to go home?”

  “Lord yes,” David sighed. “I’m so ready I’d even let Alec drive.”

  “Oh, no,” Alec protested. “Not me, not with your clutch!”

  “Liz?”

  “I’ve had enough of the Mustang-of-Death, David. You need to get your front end aligned.”

  “I reckon I’d better drive, then,” Uncle Dale grumbled theatrically, with a wink at David. “You guys can sleep, ’cept—” He eyed Calvin speculatively, then grimaced and snapped his fingers. “Dammit…I knew I shoulda brought the truck. It’s gonna be a tight squeeze for all of us.”

  Calvin shook his head and smiled. “I’ll walk,” he said. “I need to get some things out of my system, and there’s nothin’ like a good road trip to do that.”

  “But you’ll miss the wedding!” Davi
d protested.

  “Nope,” Calvin replied. “I figure I’ll just about take that long to get this stuff worked out. Tell you what: I’ll give you a call if it looks like I’m gonna be late. One of you guys can come and get me.”

  “One thing, though,” David insisted.

  “What’s that?”

  “You’ve gotta join us for lunch. Way I’ve got it figured, we oughta just about be hittin’ the mainland ’round lunch time. And there ain’t nothin’ in the world I like better’n fresh seafood.”

  “You got any money?” Uncle Dale asked wryly, lifting an eyebrow.

  David chuckled wickedly. “No, but I bet you do.”

  “Besides, we could always sell a couple of David’s hubcaps,” Alec ventured.

  David aimed a kick at his bottom which he expertly avoided. “Fool-of-a-very-blind-Scotsman, I don’t have hubcaps!”

  “Got some clothes for you in the truck, though,” Dale noted. “Picked ’em up on the way. Thought you might need ’em.”

  “Good job!” David laughed, giving him another quick hug. “Seems like I always end these things either naked or in rags.”

  “I vote for the former,” Liz whispered in his ear before she nipped it.

  “I vote we travel,” Alec sighed. “The sooner I get home, the sooner I can get to work on the ulunsuti.”

  “And the sooner I can get to my chemistry,” Liz groaned. “Lord, I hope I don’t fail.”

  “You won’t,” Calvin grinned. “I know you.”

  Liz rolled her eyes. “But do I?”

  “We could always check,” Alec ventured, “now that we’ve got a pipeline to the future.”

  “We will not!” Liz said firmly. “And that’s that!”

  Uncle Dale’s warning cough masked Alec’s reply, and they turned and marched further into the woods.

  *

  Three hours later, in the white-sanded parking lot of Whidden’s Steak and Seafood somewhere north of St. Mary’s, they said goodbye to Calvin. It was not as tearful a parting as their leavetaking of Fionchadd had been, but it still hurt. They’d all been through so much lately that their minds were still reeling, their bodies pumping so much adrenaline they were almost giddy.

  “Sure you won’t come with us?” David asked the Indian. “I bet Alec’d let you sit in his lap.”

  “Thanks, but no thanks, Dave,” Calvin replied, suddenly very serious. “I really do have some pretty heavy things I gotta think through. I’ve called Sandy and told her I’ll be there when I get there.”

  David flopped an arm around his shoulders and drew him close. “Just be sure you don’t miss the wedding,” David said. “Don’t forget you’re a member of the MacTyrie gang now.”

  “Always and forever,” Calvin acknowledged. “Wonder what color the tuxes are this mornin’.”

  “Plaid, probably,” Alec shot back deadpan.

  “Well,” Calvin chuckled, winking at David and grinning so wide David thought his head would split, “I doubt seriously it’ll be my last one. I mean I’d hate to miss a wedding.”

  “Long as they don’t get to be too stylish, if you get my drift,” David laughed back, kicking at a stray oyster shell.

  Liz pinched him.

  “Looks like another war,” Calvin confided to Alec, as he turned to go.

  “Yeah,” Alec replied, “and this is one I really don’t wanta get involved in.”

  Uncle Dale opened the car door and motioned his charges forward. “Take care,” he called to Calvin.

  “Bye, y’all!” Calvin shouted, still backing away. David climbed into the back seat with Liz. Alec inherited the front shotgun.

  Calvin was still waving as the Mustang grunted to life and rumbled away. The sun stood straight above him, highlighting his body against the surrounding tangle of trees, but wrapping his feet in a puddle of shadow. David stared at his friend, then at the sky, where the sun showed absolutely no sign of moving, then at his friend again. Finally he rolled down the window and raised his hand in salute.

  About the Author

  Tom Deitz grew up in Young Harris, Georgia, a small town not far from the fictitious Enotah County of the David Sullivan series. When he was a teen he discovered J.R.R. Tolkien, a writer who awakened his interest in fantasy and myth. He pursued his fascination by earning two degrees, a Bachelor of Arts and a Master of Arts, from the University of Georgia. His major in medieval English literature led Mr. Deitz to the Society for Creative Anachronism, which in turn generated a particular interest in heraldry, historic costuming, castle architecture, British folk music, and all things Celtic. Readers will also quickly realized that Tom was—as he said—a car nut who loved automotive details.

  In Windmaster’s Bane, his first published novel, Tom Deitz used his interests and background as he began the story of David Sullivan and his friends, a tale continued in Fireshaper’s Doom and more books in the series. He won a Georgia Author of the Year award and a Lifetime Phoenix Award from Southern fans for his work. In addition to his writing, Tom was also a popular professor of English at Gainesville State College (today the Gainesville campus of the University of North Georgia), where he was awarded the Faculty Member of the Year award for 2008.

  On the day after his birthday in 2009, Tom suffered a massive heart attack from which he never fully recovered, and in April of that year he passed away at the age of 57. Though he was never able to realize his dream of owning a small castle in Ireland, Tom had visited that country, which he loved, and at the time when he was stricken with the heart attack he was in the planning stages for a Study Abroad trip to Ireland that he would have led. The trip took place, and to a dirge played by an Irish musician on the uilleann pipes, some of Tom’s teaching colleagues scattered his ashes in a faery circle.