by Sam Cheever
I shook my head. “I get it, Walt. But now we have a problem. I suspect the Wizard knows you’re a latent Seer. Despite your not showing any interest to serve, he knows. And he’s probably been watching your family closely. He’ll know you’ve come to the gate.”
I stared at him for a long moment, waiting for him to understand. When his face paled, I saw that he knew. “My family!”
I glanced at Sebille. “We need to go to Wilshire Plex.”
She nodded. “I can fly, the dragon can carry you and Walt.”
Walt was already running. He threw open the door, and the brittle wind threw icy rain at us as we stepped out into it.
A small figure stood in the rain, the wind whipping her robes violently around her legs. Her glossy, black gaze lifted to Walt’s and magic flared around us, a violent wash against the already fierce tempest of the storm.
17
Into a World of Blinding White Light
Diandra stared at Walt, her body stiff and unyielding. Time stopped around us, even the storm fell away as their magic formed a cocoon that muted the rest of the world.
I lifted my hands, prepared to use whatever magic I had at my disposal to stop them from fighting. I had no idea if Diandra was the Wizard’s toy, or if she was simply a victim of his machinations, but I knew she was much more experienced in the use of Seer magics than Walt was.
He wouldn’t have a chance against her.
“Diandra, you need to calm down,” I told her, stepping between her and Walt.
But he set me gently aside. “This is my fight, Keeper. For once, I must take responsibility for my actions and engage.”
Another tense moment throbbed between us. Wicked wound around my calves, purring loudly, and then moved past me to curl himself around the Seer’s legs before sliding around Walt’s ankles and then sitting on my feet. He was a warm, rumbling weight that reassured.
And he’d apparently used his dousing magics to bring calm to a moment fraught with deadly tension.
Diandra blinked, expelling the black from her eyes. Moisture glistened on her lashes, and it wasn’t from the rain. “I’m a hypocrite, she told Walt. I berate you for not fulfilling your duty, yet I am guilty of the same crime.” She looked down at her clasped hands, covered in glistening raindrops. “I knew where he’d taken them, yet I did nothing. I hid within the safety of my hut and ignored the shifting of the dimensional barrier. Three shiftings I’ve ignored. Because I feared his retribution if I did anything to stop it.” She shook her head, sniffling. “I’ve been a coward and don’t have the excuse of doing it to save loved ones. I have no loved ones. I have nothing.” She lifted her gaze to Walt’s again. “But you have people who depend on you to keep them safe. I will help you do that. If you’ll allow me to.”
The panic that had been twisting my belly eased. I took a deep breath, realizing I hadn’t breathed for too long.
Walt hesitated a few beats and then nodded. “I’d be honored for your help, Seer Diandra.”
She closed her eyes for a moment, clearly relieved by his response, and then nodded briskly. “We do not need the dragon. I know how to get there quickly. Please, follow me.”
We stood in front of the entrance to the caves. My heart was pounding so hard I could feel it in my throat. My feet didn’t want to move forward.
Walt and Diandra stopped, looking back at us with a question in their eyes. I couldn’t voice the pervasive, oily fear that saturated me as I looked into the void beyond the opening.
Sebille was uncharacteristically quiet, her lean body tense beside mine.
Even Hobs stood behind me, one hand clutching my shirt as if he planned to shove me at the monster when it leaped out at us.
Problem was, the monster wasn’t a physical thing I could battle. It was amorphous, ethereal, undefined. And it was power personified.
“What’s wrong?” Diandra asked.
I blinked and shook my head. “I don’t think I can go back in there.”
In my hands, Slimy shivered violently, his blank black eyes bulging even more than usual. “There’s magic in front of the door.”
It took a minute for his words to sink in. I looked down at him. “Door?”
“The green one. It’s covered in shimmering, black magic.”
I looked at Diandra. She nodded. “Yes, the door’s the portal.”
I narrowed my gaze, peering past her. “Can you see a door in there?”
She pointed to the solid rock wall. “It’s right here.”
Sebille and I shared a look. I knew what she was thinking. We’d stepped through the entrance before, and then everything had gone wonky. Even before we’d had a chance to see what the cave contained.
“We got caught up in some kind of magical hypnosis before,” Sebille told the Seer. “We weren’t able to control anything. And we ended up there.” She pointed toward the top of the rocky ridge. “I have no idea how.”
Diandra frowned thoughtfully. “I see. Maybe it’s because your energies are foreign to the cave. It’s probably been spelled to protect the portal.” She cocked her head, eyeing Slimy. “The frog can see the door?”
“He’s magic sensitive,” I told her. “Sometimes, he sees things we don’t see.”
The night behind us flared with heat and light. A thick shaft of yellow-gold flame seared the air. We turned to find Kanish standing way too close, given her size and the range of her fire.
She roared, painting us in smoky heat.
I looked at Walt.
“She says she can block the illusion. We need to take her with us.”
Diandra shook her head. “The dragon won’t fit through the door.”
“She will,” Slimy said. “It will expand.”
The Seer eyed the frog, her pretty face filled with doubt. Then she shrugged. “If she gets stuck, I’m not sure we’ll be able to release her.”
Looking at the dragon, Walt belched out a human-sized roar of dragonish and Kanish sent fire into the sky in response, flapping her wings.
Water sprayed over us as Kanish moved her wings, drenching our clothes.
“Dripping dragon goobers,” I cursed softly, brushing at the raindrops on my clothes.
Diandra turned and headed into the cave. As soon as she took a step inside, she disappeared.
Walt stepped inside before I could stop him.
Sebille, Hobs, and I shared a look. We were all afraid to risk it again.
But the dragon stepped forward, towering over us as she covered us with a still-dripping wing. As soon as her wings surrounded us, I could see the two Seers inside. Diandra was kneeling on the ground, chanting, her hands uplifted, palms upward and a tiny purple flame burning in each one.
Walt had his eyes closed and was chanting with her. His fingers twitched at his sides. After a few seconds, fire flared up from his palms, though I didn’t think he noticed.
A moment later, light flickered behind the portal, showing in the fine cracks between the door and the frame. The portal slowly eased open, and the two Seers walked through. Into a world of glowing white light. We followed quickly, not wanting to be left behind.
We stepped into the light only a moment behind Walt and Diandra, relieved that Kanish had been right. Her magic had repelled the dark magic of the cave. Unfortunately, the dragon did indeed become wedged, giving off a deep grunt and a cloud of pale gray smoke as her sides hit the frame of the door and stuck.
We watched as she struggled to pull herself free, concern building as the moment stretched to two and then three. I looked at Sebille. She shrugged. “I can douse her with shrinking energy, but I’m not sure how it would interact with the dragon’s own magic.”
I looked down at Slimy. He looked up at me but didn’t say anything. Yeah, act like a dumb frog and pretend you didn’t just promise us the dragon would fit through the door, I thought at him.
He blinked and stiffened.
Trickle, trickle, trickle.
“Oh no, you didn’t!” I said.
I was pretty sure I heard the frog chuckle as I grabbed him with my un-peed-on hand and wiped my other hand on the spiky grass beneath my feet.
There was an ominous creaking sound.
I felt my eyes go wide.
The dragon grunted, visibly straining to get through the door.
The creaking turned to a groan and then a screech as the big reptile bent the frame of the magical door.
I was opening my mouth to comment that we needed to try something to help when the door suddenly expanded and the dragon shot through like a bullet, heading right for us.
Our screams were quickly smacked out of us by about five thousand pounds of reptile banging against us, flinging us sideways. Kanish lifted her wings and took off flying as if she hadn’t just been pooped from a magical door, and left us behind.
I hit the ground and skidded several feet, smacking up against a scrubby bush that felt as if it was covered in sharp needles. The frog flew out of my hand when I hit, leaving behind a few more trickles of frog incontinence as he flew over my head.
I grimaced, wiping my hand on the grass again. “I don’t really blame you for that one,” I told him as I climbed to my feet, groaning. Every bone in my body felt bruised.
A muffled croak was the only response I got from the frog.
In the distance, I heard a heartfelt scream of, “Again!” and knew Hobbs was okay.
I tried to peer through the oppressive light to see my assistant. “Sebille?”
My ears buzzed. I shook my head, trying to remember if I’d smacked it when I’d been tossed like a well-used tissue.
The buzzing didn’t stop.
A big bug shot past my ear and I swung at it, earning myself a Sprite-style barrage of cursing for my trouble.
“Hey, watch out, you gnish! I didn’t barely escape with my life from the giant dragon projectile only to be squashed by you.”
“Then don’t buzz me like that,” I groused back. “It’s annoying.”
The sound of the portal door slamming closed sliced our argument short and jettisoned us into a fun new experience.
Pure, unadulterated darkness.
18
The Goblin-Cursed Place
I sat where I was for a long moment. Listening. Trying to get my bearings.
The buzzing stopped, telling me Sebille had either left or she was no longer Sprite-sized. My vision started to adjust after a bit, and I realized the previously bright light had skewed my night vision. My other senses kicked in and I heard the heavy throb of dragon wings on the air.
Kanish was coming back. I rolled to my knees. “Slimy?”
“Ribbit.”
“Oh no! Please don’t tell me I knocked the ability to speak right out of you again?”
“Ribbit?”
“He’s just messin’ with ya,” a voice said through the darkness.
“Naida? Is that you?”
I shoved to my feet. “I’m looking for the frog.”
A green light appeared out of the darkness, showing Sebille holding Hobs’ hand three feet away from me.
High above us, Kanish released another bolt of dragon fire, temporarily illuminating the spot where we stood. Wicked bounced over, tail high and ears forward, and rubbed his forehead on my shins. “Hey, buddy. I’m glad you’re okay.”
“Where’s the frog?” Sebille asked.
I shook my head. “He’s not talking to me.”
Wicked trotted around the bush that had sort of cushioned my landing and sounded a warning, “Meow!”
“Stop messing around, Slimy,” I told the frog. “I’m not mad at you for peeing on me…twice.”
“In my defense,” said the frog in his snotty voice, “It was like being shot out of a canon. It was terrifying. I’m not exactly built for rough and tumble antics,” he whined.
“I beg to differ,” said Sebille. “You’ve got plenty of protective padding.”
We smacked palms, grinning.
“Very funny, Sprite,” sayeth the frog.
“Where in Cinderella’s pointy glass slippers did the Seers go?” I asked, looking around.
Kanish roared, spitting more fire into the air, but our translator was missing. “Sorry, girl. I have no idea what you’re saying.”
The dragon hovered above our heads, body slightly vertical and wings throbbing slowly to keep her afloat. She dipped her elegant head and whipped around on the air, heading away from us.
“I think she wants us to follow, Miss,” Hobs said.
Since my cat was already bounding after the dragon, it was a simple decision to go after her. Scooping up the frog, I handed him to Sebille. “It’s your turn to be peed on,” I told her.
She grimaced, holding him away from her with the tips of her fingers.
“Ha,” fake-laughed the frog. “You know I have feelings, right?”
“If you don’t want to be razzed, then stop piddling on me,” I told him.
I thought that was an entirely reasonable request.
The ground was hard, rocky, and there was very little vegetation. The occasional scrubby tree or spiky bush provided the only “softness” in an otherwise bleak and shadowy landscape.
And it was cold.
So cold.
Sebille had tucked the frog inside her shirt, against her body, with a threat that if he peed on her she was going to dump him on the ground and leave him to freeze.
I had my arms wrapped around myself and was considering calling Kanish down to fire up a spiky bush or two for warmth.
I’d ditched my coat at the hut, not realizing we’d be heading into colder climes, and my light-weight sweater and muddy jeans were useless in that kind of cold.
Hobbs didn’t seem to feel the cold like I did, he’d wrapped the length of his Christmas sweater around his upper body and he seemed happy, his bare feet and hands not even purple like mine were.
Of course, Sebille had come to Plex better equipped for all types of weather. She was wearing several layers, furry boots, and had a scarf around her throat and gloves on her hands.
In my defense, I hadn’t been planning on being sucked into Plex and therefore hadn’t had a chance to prepare. Still, I really could have used that burlap bag. If I’d had it at hand, I’d have pulled a snowsuit and a few tacos out faster than Hobs could squeal, “Again!”.
Not necessarily in that order. Just for grins, I sent my keeper energy out into the night, watching the silvery threads swirl away from me and disappear. When there was no clang of discovery, I sighed.
No burlap bag for me.
High above our heads, the dragon suddenly roared. She dipped her nose and lunged toward the ground.
“It looks like she’s found them,” I told Sebille, shivering so hard my teeth clacked together.
Taking pity on me, Sebille tugged off her outer layer, a form-fitting fleece jacket, and handed it to me. She still had on a turtleneck under a sweatshirt, and probably a layer beneath that. “Thank you!” I pulled it on gratefully, sighing at the almost immediate warmth.
“Don’t drool on it or anything.”
Would it have killed her just to be nice?
I snorted at my unspoken question. The answer was a resounding yes. She would have fallen into the fetal position and died on the spot.
Wicked came bounding back and met us on the trail, he was no longer purring, and his tail was whipping the air with the type of violence that told me something was very wrong.
“What is it, buddy?”
Lightning sheered across the sky, illuminating a craggy landscape and a distant, snow-covered peak. I suddenly realized where I was. But I didn’t have time to figure out what it meant before the lightning sliced downward like a guided missile and exploded the ground.
I shrieked, the concussive force of the blast blowing me backward and up, and something popped inside my ears.
I flew through the air and landed in a foggy puddle several feet away. Confused and feeling like someone had pounded me flat with a giant m
eat tenderizer, I lay there for several moments, taking stock. Voices murmured around me, dulled and indecipherable. There was a short, sharp scream that filled me with an unanswered urgency to pull myself together and drag myself upright.
But the longer I lay there, the more painful areas I identified in my body.
A burning sensation ripped at my insides. From out of my murky thoughts came the sudden, panicked surety that I’d been struck by lightning and my insides were on fire.
Pain throbbed in my fingertips, accompanied by an angry sizzling sound.
I battled terror, discomfort, and the fog in my brain and forced my eyes open.
Panic roared through me. I couldn’t see!
Then I realized the problem. I shoved hair out of my eyes, yelping as lightning zapped my face. No. Not lightning. My own energy.
The world spun around me, making me roll to my side and retch. I was dizzy. So dizzy. And my power was burning in my belly to get out. In the distance, there was screaming. Prolonged, pain-filled screaming.
Then I remembered my friends. “Wicked?” I pushed to a seated position, fighting nausea as I looked around. “Sebille? Hobbs? Slimy?”
Sebille groaned, her upper body suddenly appearing a few feet away from behind a tree as she sat up. Her eyes went crossed and she threw a hand over her mouth, retching into the grass.
“Miss?” Hobs’ voice was weak, and I couldn’t see him.
“Hobs! Where are you?”
“I’m over here…” He coughed wetly. His voice held no joy. No excitement. No demand for more. That was when I knew he was in trouble. “Keep talking so I can find you.”
“I’m with Mr. Wicked. He’s…” Hobs coughed again, leaving me clinging with horror to his hanging sentence. “He’s what, Hobs! Keep talking…”
“He’s not moving, Miss Naida.”
Oh goddess, no! He had to be all right. If he wasn’t... Rage boiled in my chest and the burning sensation increased in my belly as my magic tried to escape its confines. My power had recognized we were under attack and wanted to be let out to deal with it.