The idea brought tears stinging to her eyes. How could she face the rest of her life without Earl? Well, at least, Heather realized grimly, if Morgan was involved, it was likely to be a short life.
After Morgan had left, Heather helped the female rat move the remains of her mate back into the wall. Heather knew that most people didn’t think animals felt things as deeply as humans did. But she was certain they did. Those two rats had been mates for life. And now the little female felt terribly hollow and alone—that feeling filled Heather’s mind whenever she picked up her thoughts. Heather continued to share her meager meals but placed the food right by the rat hole to reduce the risk if Morgan should sweep in again.
As she had for days, Heather moved to the window and looked again at the stone walls, wondering if she dared climb down. The pale afternoon light showed only shallow dark cracks between the stones. There seemed no way she could do it unless she could turn herself into a lizard. Her mind had played around with that, picturing a lizard, picturing her own hands as tiny lizard feet. But she didn’t dare. Earl had warned her about how dangerous animal transformation could be. Without practice, she could turn herself into a hybrid monster—or a quivering blob of dying flesh.
The door clattered open. Heather jumped but forced herself not to look around.
“No word of greeting, my dear?” Morgan said silkily. “No matter. I’m sure we’ll work together well in time.”
Heather felt the woman come stand beside her and smelled the faintly sweet perfume she wore—mustily sweet, like a whiff of dead things. Morgan put a cold hand on her shoulder, and Heather shivered.
“Yes, keep looking westward, dear. We should be having a reunion soon. I believe your crazed elderly sweetheart will be arriving any minute.”
Brushing Morgan’s hand aside, Heather spun around to face her. “So this is a trap, isn’t it? You just snatched me to use as bait!”
Morgan’s green eyes snapped with annoyance, then she laughed. “Disappointed? You really thought I would go to all this trouble to snatch a run-of-the-mill child witch to work as my special partner? You think far too highly of yourself, my dear.”
Laughing again, Morgan paced around the small tower room, then she turned back to her prisoner. “Actually, I’m being somewhat unfair. So unlike me, I know. Merlin did seem to feel you have some special new breed of power. And, foolishly infatuated though he is, he remains rather sharp about such things. With the world changing, I can use all the extra help I can muster. And I am sure that once this unpleasant episode is over, you and I can work together—to our mutual benefit.”
Heather glowered at the floor but said nothing. Morgan sighed and continued. “I admit to having a hard time in Britain lately with Arthur and Merlin back to their old ways. Getting Merlin away from there and disposing of him once and for all will make my life a great deal easier. And you, my dear, will help in that as well.”
“Never!”
“Oh, how melodramatic you are! You don’t have to do anything—just be here. The farther I can lure him from his home ground, the greater my chances against him will be. The old magic—Merlin’s magic—works like that, giving you greatest strength on your home turf. But I’ve spent the last several centuries traveling the world, what’s left of it, and I’m quite at home anywhere.”
Heather wished she could wipe that smug smile off the woman’s face but could think of nothing biting to say. “So where are we now? Where is this dreadful castle of yours?”
“It’s not my castle, really. I just use it sometimes. A gate to one of my favorite Otherworlds is here. No doubt you’ve noticed my little flying friends? I’m keeping them out of your room—for now. You wouldn’t be much use to any of us drained of blood.”
Involuntarily Heather glanced over her shoulder. Morgan moved beside her to look out the window. “Yes. Keep an eye on that low gap between the mountains. I sense he’ll be here quite soon. He’s moving a little faster than expected, but I suppose we’ll see why soon enough.”
Heather stared at the saddle between two jagged mountains. She was torn between longing for Earl to come for her and wanting to warn him, to urge him to turn back. If only she could communicate with him instead of the scattered voices that randomly dropped into her mind.
Clasping her hands, hoping Morgan wouldn’t notice, she clutched Earl’s bracelet and tried to conjure up his face—pale and thin, heavy dark eyebrows, perpetually mussed black hair, hawklike nose, and lustrous dark eyes.
Don’t come here, she thought. It’s a trap. Turn back, turn back. I love you.
She concentrated hard but felt nothing. She scowled. What good was having power if she didn’t know how to use it? But getting Morgan as a tutor was not the answer.
The mountains had become a dark silhouette against a dusky sky when Heather’s straining eyes picked out something moving over the pass. A white speck in the air slowly coming closer. She felt Morgan tensing beside her and knew the sorceress saw it too.
“How extraordinary,” Morgan exclaimed. “He’s using a dragon. They’re so hard to find these days, to say nothing of getting one to cooperate. Your boyfriend never ceases to amaze me. That’s what makes our little feuds over the years so interesting. But all good things must come to an end.”
She turned and looked at Heather. “I’m happy to have you observing, my dear. Very educational. But I really can’t have you interfering.” Rapidly she wove her hands through the air, and suddenly Heather felt herself enmeshed in prickly bands of force. She struggled to tear them away but could scarcely twitch a muscle.
Helplessly Heather watched as Morgan, chanting to herself, began drawing a green glow out of the air. The glow solidified into a pulsing emerald globe. Casually letting this hang in the air beside her, Morgan leaned out the window.
“Good backup, but first let’s bring out my special defense forces.” She opened her mouth with a long piercing cry, followed by a string of chirps and yips.
Her head frozen in one position, Heather at first saw no change. Her sight was fixed on the mountain gap and the approaching speck of white. But it was more than a speck now. Great batlike wings were visible along with a snaky head and tail. It was a dragon! Despite herself, Heather was awed. A real dragon. How had Earl managed that? Please, oh please, turn back! Again she felt her thoughts stay trapped in her mind.
Now a subtle difference came over the air as if clear water poured down a glass pane. The dragon had picked up speed and was shooting toward them. Suddenly, with frantic backpedaling, it swerved aside, and Heather could see that it indeed carried a rider. No, several riders.
“Too bad, that speeding worm saw the barrier,” Morgan commented. “It would have been quite entertaining to see it collide. Well, prolongs the fun.”
A bolt of purple energy launched from the dragon’s back and shattered against the nearly invisible barrier. Several more came. Tendrils of purple spread over the surface, but nothing cracked. Then the flying figure was engulfed by a black cloud, a cloud that swelled and shrank and fluttered at its edges. Bats, Heather realized. Thousands of bats!
The dragon swooped and dove, then suddenly loosed a stream of fire, tearing ragged holes in the cloud. Wind blew them the reek of burning bats. Morgan raised a hand and the barrier melted away.
“Enough of this,” she cried, shooting a blast of green power directly at the dragon and riders. It was met by a beam of purple. Volley after green volley was deflected until the twisting, dodging dragon suddenly shrieked, flipped over, and began spirally down.
“Now we have them!” Morgan cried, reaching for the green ball that pulsed with power in the air beside her. “Just waiting for the right moment.”
Heather couldn’t even scream her fury. If only she could attack Morgan, destroy her aim! A small furious thought bit into her. I can!
Out of the corner of her eye, Heather saw a gray shape streaking their way. Yes, rat, bite her!
Morgan reached back, ready to hurl the ball.
Now!
Just as Morgan thrust the ball forward, the rat sank her teeth into the sorceress’s ankle. Morgan jerked, propelling the ball slightly askew. Furiously Morgan looked around, but the rat had already dived for cover under Heather’s skirt. Then the sorceress looked back at the sky. “Missed! But no matter. They’re going down. Pity to lose a dragon like that, but the riders are done for. At last.”
The silence that settled over the mountains seemed louder than all the explosions and screechings. Heather’s eyes stung with the afterimages of light and with tears that couldn’t fall.
Finally Morgan broke the silence. “Well, that’s done. Almost a shame, really. Still, that old wizard’s a devious one. I’ll send out a crew to make sure he’s finished. And fresh dragon meat—now there’s a delicacy.”
She headed for the door, then turned and looked at Heather, still standing frozen before the window. With a flutter of her hands, she dissolved the invisible bonds. “If you have melodramatic grieving to do, get it over with. I’ve business to attend to here. Then, when the timing’s right, we’ll be leaving. You should be pleased, you know. I was telling the truth—the first time. I do have a use for you other than as bait.”
The door closed before Heather’s body realized it could move. Then it slowly sank to the floor. Sympathetically a small rat crouched and watched as the girl violently rocked back and forth, choking on sobs and the tears now pouring from her eyes.
In time, Heather knew, she’d have room for guilt and for hate. Now all she felt was bottomless despair.
UNDERGROUND
Dust swirled around them in choking clouds. Clutching his staff, Merlin staggered to his feet, surprised that various parts of him weren’t shattered. The dragon’s sudden weight must have broken through the roof of some underground cave.
As the dust settled, Merlin saw reddish lights some distance to his left. They weren’t bright but were enough to hint at the figures holding them. It was hard to tell, but they looked human—mostly.
He needed a great deal more light. At a word, his staff radiated an intense purple. It cast a violet glow on the white mound beside him. The dragon’s head was raised as she stared at the distant row of lights. A rumbling vibrated through her, not a purr—a growl.
“Is everyone all right?” Welly’s voice rose from the far side of the dragon.
“I’m fine,” Merlin answered, keeping his eyes on the distant shadowy figures. “Troll?”
“Troll not hurt. Scared. This trip, Troll always scared. Not like lights.” Skittishly he drew his knife.
Blanche rose to her feet still growling while Merlin walked around her to join the others. He and Welly drew their swords as the figures holding the lights began slowly walking their way.
“Hold!” a voice called across the echoey cavern. “Intruders, declare yourselves.”
The dragon’s growling grew in volume, but Merlin put a hand on her flank. “Wait,” he said quietly. “Whoever these people are, they don’t feel dark—not as dark as the things we met outside. Maybe they know something that can help us get to Heather.”
He raised his voice. “We are travelers from a distant country. Our enemies are outside, not here. If you wish us to leave, we will.”
The speaker leading the others was much nearer now. He was thin, palely purple, and had long white hair. They were all armed with swords. “No leaving now. We must take you to Baba.”
He made a quick gesture and two figures stepped to one side. They manipulated some mechanism in the semi-darkness, and suddenly a cranking and grating shook the cavern. Dust and pebbles rained down on them. Looking up, they saw a black panel sliding across the opening, cutting them off from the grayer night sky.
Blanche shifted uneasily, and Merlin cautioned her again. “Wait. Like you said, we were sitting ducks up there. It might be useful to learn where we are and who this Baba person is.
“Baba is your leader, then?” Merlin asked loudly.
“She is.”
“She? Does she go by any other name? Morgan, perhaps?”
The advancing man spat on the ground. “The foreign witch? Do not insult us.”
“Ah. Then we will do you no harm if you do none to us. We will meet with your leader.”
“You are our prisoners, not our guests—until Baba says otherwise.”
“Should we go with them?” Welly whispered to Merlin.
The wizard turned to their other companion. “What do you say, Troll? You’re more familiar with the denizens of the current Otherworlds. What do you feel about these fellows?”
Troll wrung his long hands. “Some local muties, some from Otherworlds, some both. But not bad bad. Not like Morgan.”
Merlin nodded. “That’s what I feel too. Let’s meet this Baba person.”
Sheathing their swords, he and Welly stepped forward. Troll skulked along in their shadows, sticking his knife back into his sash. Blanche rose to follow.
“You three, yes,” the white-haired man said. “But not that…animal.”
“Watch it, grub,” Blanche said, her words wreathed in smoke. “Treat me with respect, or I treat you like dinner.”
“She’s one of our party,” Merlin told the startled-looking man. “Where we go, she goes—if she fits.”
The man and the others backed away. “We’ll see what Baba has to say. Come, then.” He hurried ahead of them down a high wide hallway. The other light holders walked even faster.
Striding along with more confidence than he felt, Merlin studied the walls and ceiling. Smooth surfaces that must have been white once were now grimy and splotched with mold. Pre-Devastation architecture, he guessed. At regular intervals on the ceiling were contraptions that he supposed must once have been light fixtures. They were dark now. That made him want to look more closely at the lights their guides—or guards—were carrying.
He squinted ahead. The men, though armed, were clearly not anxious to be close to the intruders. The more Merlin focused on their red-tinged lights, the less he liked them. They looked a lot like glowing human skulls.
As they proceeded down the corridor, faces peered out of doors on either side. Some were pale, but not pre-Devastation pale. They were almost translucent, like creatures living under rocks. Merlin realized that the reason the white-haired man looked slightly purple was that his blood vessels were showing through his skin. Did these people live underground all the time? And what sort of place was this, anyway? Impatiently he filed these questions and tried to keep track of their route as they turned from one corridor into another and another. Their footsteps echoed dully through the dim maze.
Finally they rounded a corner and found the light holders clumped around a closed door. It was larger than the other doors they’d passed, and instead of a dirty white surface it was brightly painted. A vibrant red background was covered with multicolored flowers, animals, and birds.
The white-haired man knocked timidly. In a flurry, the painted figures on the door rearranged themselves. A crabby-looking chicken seemed to open its beak and squawk, “What?”
“O great Baba, the mighty and esteemed Yaga. As directed, the intruders on the hangar hatch have been apprehended. They claim to be from ‘a distant country,’ wherever that is. We bring them here for your questioning.”
A painted duck pushed the chicken aside and glared into the hallway. Finally it quacked, “Ah, two humans and a troll. Interesting. Aha! And a dragon. Very interesting.”
The chicken pecked at the duck, shouldering it aside, and squawked, “Right. Send the three smaller ones in. Madam Dragon, I fear you are too large for my office. I’ll have someone bring you a bowl of munchies. Will fried bats do?”
Blanche grunted at the talking door. “In large quantities, yes.”
“Done,” the duck quacked. “Door, open! Kitchen staff, bring the bats!”
The door flung itself open, and the light carriers bowed the three travelers in. Merlin looked back at Blanche, who seemed content to sit down and await the p
romised goodies. Then he stepped through the door.
It was a large office, though not dragon-sized, and very cluttered. Shelves, chairs, and tables were piled with books, dolls, wood carvings, glasses, and teapots. In one corner stood a high wooden tub with a wooden pole sticking out of it. It looked to Merlin like an enormous mortar and pestle, though he couldn’t imagine who could use such a huge thing for grinding. A number of chickens and ducks wandered through the room, and several cats draped themselves over pieces of furniture. In the center of the space crouched a huge wooden desk, equally cluttered, and behind it sat someone small.
Stepping forward, they saw it was a little old lady. Very little and very old. A bright flowered scarf tied around her head barely contained her riotous gray hair. Her face seemed entirely made up of wrinkles except where a long nose protruded from the middle and bent down, almost meeting the upturned chin. Two beady black eyes watched the three as they approached.
“Well, well,” she cackled, “nice of you to drop in.”
This was all getting too confusing for Welly, and being confused made him angry. “We didn’t exactly drop in by accident, did we? We landed in some sort of trap.”
The woman shrugged. “Not really. You and that great heavy dragon thumped down like invaders on our hangar door. Of course we caught you! And if our lookouts hadn’t reported that you were fighting the castle folk, we probably would have considered you enemies and killed you on the spot.”
“Or tried to,” Welly said meaningfully, placing a hand on his sword hilt.
Baba chortled. “Oh, of course, that was before we knew we had such a formidable warrior in our midst. Give it a break, kid.”
Then she turned her beady eyes on Merlin. “But you are a different matter. Foreign travelers, you say? Where from?”
“Britain,” Merlin answered simply.
“Right. I’ve heard of some interesting goings-on there. Oh, wait. The meddling witch who moved into the castle is British too, isn’t she? Friend of yours?”
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