Troll jumped up from where he’d been cowering behind Merlin. “No way! She nasty nasty witch! She stole Nice Lady, and we got to rescue her!”
“Hush,” Welly whispered urgently. “How do we know whose side this old hag’s on?”
Overhearing, Baba laughed. “Right, kid. Never trust nobody that nobody sent. So why should I trust you?”
Troll hopped up and down impatiently. “Because we got to rescue Heather. Get her and Merlin back to Arthur before Morgan does more nasties. That why!”
“Well, at last someone’s coming out with useful information,” Baba cackled. “I’ve heard something about you lot—from my Otherworld connections. It’s not everybody who’d mess with that Le Fay woman. Down here, we try lying low when she’s in residence. I’ve worked too many centuries trying to keep this ragtag lot going to let that gadabout foreign witch with dreams of grandeur mess with us.
“But you, boy, I know you now.” Jumping up, she skipped around the desk and pointed a knobby finger at Merlin. She wasn’t much taller than Troll, but with her layers of fringed shawls and flowered skirts she was twice as wide. “The age thing fooled me at first—and that feeble little beard. We’ve heard about you and that Arthur fellow even in our Otherworld—and we’re a pretty provincial lot.”
Merlin tried to respond but couldn’t break into her flow of chatter.
“Ah, now this girl you’re after…I bet that’s the same one little Ivan came running to me about. He’s got this new talent coming. Mind speaker. Wave of the future, that is. He’s not much good at it yet. No focus. But he said there’s another of his kind nearby, held prisoner or something, and I bet it’s your girl.”
Merlin felt a thrill of hope and watched impatiently as the woman hopped about like an excited flea, the fringe on her shawls whipping around. She continued, “So now we better help you. Can’t let Miss Rule the World get hold of that talent, can we? And as the saying goes, ‘The enemy of my enemy is my friend.’ Always worked for me.”
Reaching down, she grabbed a chicken, whispered in its ear, and flung it fluttering toward the door. Momentarily it vanished and a cackling chicken voice was heard outside ordering someone to go fetch Ivan and bring him to the dining hall.
“Come on,” Baba said, bustling to the door before anyone else could get a word in. “Got to feed guests—and do some plotting and planning while we’re at it.” Merlin frowned but followed. He didn’t want to take the time to play grateful guest, but obviously this person knew things that might help.
Outside in the hall, the painted chicken and duck were still squabbling on the door. Baba gave them a slap and gestured to Blanche, who was just licking the last bat out of a large tureen. “Come along too, deary. I’m sure that just whetted your appetite.” With that, she bustled down the corridor, followed by the visitors and several guards clutching glowing skulls.
After a few paces, Baba fell back to walk beside Blanche. “A real British dragon—what an honor to meet you, ma’am. We have a preference for firebirds in my neck of the Otherworlds, but dragons always piqued my fancy. China had its share too, you know, but that place got hit even worse in the Devastation, and most of its Otherworld folk cleared right out.”
As they hurried along, Welly slipped up to Merlin and whispered, “Is the old lady crazy or what?”
“Or what,” Merlin answered. “I think she’s a big-time supernatural sort. If only Heather were here. She read a lot more about other countries and their legends than I bothered with.”
“I wish she were here too,” Welly agreed. “But if she were, we wouldn’t be. I mean…”
Before Welly could sort this out, Baba scuttled up to join them. “Quite a stroke of luck it was, finding this place after the Devastation. I nearly ran off myself, like most of our Otherworld types, when this world got so crazy. But there were survivors. We weren’t as lucky as you British lot. Only one of your cities got hit, I’m told. But even here, not everybody died in the blasts or the chaos afterward. So I stayed behind with a little ragtag band of survivors, hoping to find a place where the radiation wouldn’t kill or mutate them too bad. And we found this place.”
“What is it?” Welly managed to slip in.
“A big underground bunker. A city almost. Apparently some government and military big shots built this hideout in the mountains in case war broke out. But I don’t think most of them got to use it. They were killed right out, or maybe from the radiation or the plagues. But they’d stocked the place with food and books and bunches of gadgets, most of which don’t work anymore. And I introduced some touches of my own.”
“Like glowy skulls?” Troll offered.
“Always worked for me,” she chuckled. “Used to set them on poles around my house. Discouraged unwanted visitors. But the magic here is not all mine. There’re new magics popping up all the time helping us deal with stuff. Maybe someday soon we’ll move back onto the surface. The folks living here now can handle a lot of radiation—even developed some useful mutations. But after generations underground, they’re looking kind of sickly.”
She broke off into cackling laughter. “Never thought I’d end up this maternal. Ha! There even used to be stories about me eating children. I never did—well, not much, anyway. But I kind of fell into this group-mother role, and you got to do what you got to do. Ah, here we are, in the dining hall. It’s between mealtimes, so there’s lots of room. I know you’re in a hurry, but you got to eat and we got to talk.” She motioned them to seats at long tables and bustled off to see about their food.
“We have got to talk?” Welly muttered as they sat on the long smooth bench. “Where does the we come in?”
Merlin nodded. “Talks a lot, but I guess she doesn’t get outside visitors much.”
Troll was sitting on top of the long table tapping its smooth whitish surface when Baba came back. With her were several translucent people carrying a big steaming bowl of something gray. Others timidly placed a large pot of something red in front of Blanche, who had tucked herself into a corner of the dining hall.
Baba handed out spoons and smaller eating bowls to her guests. “Eat up. Mushrooms. We grow lots of different types here. Even before the Devastation, it was a big local crop. They do well underground. Ah, here’s little Ivan. Let’s hear what he has to say.”
Just let him talk, Welly thought as he spooned a quivering gray mushroom into his mouth. He bit down cautiously. It was slimy but tasted rich and nutty. He scooped more into his own bowl.
The young boy walking toward them was short with the same see-through skin as the others and with eyes almost as big as Troll’s. He looked very nervous and shy.
“Come on, boy,” Baba said. “Don’t freak out. These are special guests. Tell them what you heard. You know—in your mind.”
The boy sat at the table and without looking up said, “I’d heard that voice a few times before, sort of faint and far away. But a couple days ago it was real loud. It hurt my head.”
He lapsed into silence until Merlin prompted, “And what did the voice say?”
“That she’d been kidnapped from someplace foreign and didn’t know where she was. She wasn’t hurt, but she was scared. That’s all. I’m not very good at this.”
“Yes, you are,” Merlin said encouragingly. “You’re miraculous. Can you reach her again?”
“I don’t know.”
“Try, boy,” Baba urged. “It’s important.”
“Be like hero in old stories,” Troll offered.
Ivan’s smile spread until it was almost as wide as Troll’s. “Like the stories Baba tells us?”
The old woman grinned, her eyes almost disappearing among the wrinkles of her face. “Like the Prince saving Vassalissa the Beautiful.”
Nodding, Ivan crawled onto the table, curled up beside Troll, and closed his eyes. For a while, they watched the boy apparently sleeping. Then Baba motioned for them to eat their mushrooms and ignore him.
Troll was just serving himself a third helping
when the boy abruptly sat up. Startled, Troll dropped the ladle, splattering the others with mushrooms. Ignoring this, they all concentrated on Ivan. Eyes wide, he huddled there trembling.
“Well?” Baba snapped impatiently. “Did you reach her?”
Troll wrapped an arm around the boy. The shivering subsided and Ivan nodded. “She’s very happy you weren’t killed. I described who was here and she is even happier. She’s afraid she’s being taken away someplace else soon. She thinks the woman has some scary plans for her. She wants me to tell you that you should go back home and forget about her. She says that just knowing you’re alive makes it easier for her to deal with whatever Morgan is planning.”
Ivan closed his eyes a moment, then looked directly at Merlin. “But I don’t think she means it. Not deep down.”
Merlin stood up. “Whether she means it or not, we’re going after her. Now!”
With a clawlike hand, Baba grabbed his sleeve and yanked him down. “No, you’re not. Sleep first. It’s still night out there, and that’s when the truly nasty Otherworld types that hang out here are worst. I don’t think even a famous foreign wizard like you could take them all on.”
“But…,” Merlin began. Welly poked him and pointed toward Blanche. The dragon was fast asleep, her head in the empty bowl, each snore filling it with little puffs of smoke.
“All right,” Merlin said reluctantly. “We could all use some rest. But only until dawn. We can’t let Morgan spirit Heather away without a fight—or a clue where they’re going.”
“Judging by the performance tonight,” Baba observed, “I’d say you need some sneakier tactics. But I haven’t lived like a mole for centuries without developing a few pesky tricks. I think we can get you a lot closer to your friend than you managed on your own. Get some sleep. I’ll work on it.”
The travelers wanted to stay together, so accommodations were found for them all in an empty storeroom large enough to house even a dragon. Blanche grumbled fiercely when they awakened her to move, but she’d no sooner lain down again than she was asleep.
Merlin was certain he’d never manage to sleep. Lying down, he clutched the smooth carved staff, sensing it would somehow make him feel close to its maker. At least he could pass the time thinking of her. But soon he slipped into blackness and jumbled dreams.
Others needed him, cried for his help, but he could do nothing. Heather, wrapped in fear. Arthur, embattled by enemies, hopelessly outnumbered. They both called for him, but he was trapped in darkness. The darkness became a cave. Enchanted in the heart of a mountain, voices cried to him for centuries, but he could not answer. Voices died away as their speakers turned to dust, forgotten except by him. But one voice remained. One taunting laughing voice. Morgan Le Fay knew she was winning. Just as Merlin knew he must not let her win.
UPWARD
Roused a few hours later from his troubled sleep, Merlin felt only vaguely refreshed. Suddenly remembered purpose brought him to his feet. He joined ever-chattering Baba in rousing the others. Welly groaned, Troll whined, and Blanche snorted in a way that threatened to incinerate them all. But eventually they stumbled from the room, led by several guards with glowing skulls and the seemingly tireless Baba.
“No time like the lovely predawn to start adventures,” she said cheerily. “I can’t wait till I can take my own people up to see a real dawn again. Ah, well, I’m nothing if not patient. Now, where I’m taking you is not the scenic route. There were passages that the makers of this place started building, then abandoned. Maybe they ran out of money; maybe the wars caught up with them before they were finished. Early on, we walled them off—partly because they were clammy and yucky and partly because they are just too close to the old castle and all the evil that seeps from there. But because they do lead close to the castle, they’re a good route for you now.”
Merlin nodded. “If we can sneak into the place, I think I can find where she’s being held. The closer we get, the more I sense her nearness.”
They turned several corners, and suddenly the wide corridor came to an end. In front of them was a wall of closely packed rubble, slabs of broken concrete mixed with soil, twisted metal furniture, and odd machinery. Wires coiled out of broken metal boxes like severed blood vessels.
“Just shift some of this garbage away,” Baba said, “and you’re into the unfinished parts.” She looked at Merlin appraisingly. “Your magic or mine, boy? Or do we let the dragon do the heavy lifting?”
“I don’t lift,” Blanche snarled. “I smash. Stand aside, punies!”
The others scrambled away as the dragon smashed her massive tailquarters against the makeshift wall. It sagged, and a few chunks of concrete and rusted metal fell away. Another blow and the whole structure collapsed. The dust cleared to show a ragged hole large enough for even the dragon to pass through.
Baba stepped forward and peered into the darkness. “Haven’t been in here for centuries. I doubt it’s gotten a lick better since it was walled off. Oh, well, there’s no adventure without a little danger.”
She turned to the small group of her guards that had accompanied them. They clustered together looking less than eager for adventure. “Here, give our guests some lights. And you stay here and guard this opening till I come back. We don’t want anything nasty slipping through.”
As she climbed through the gap, glowing skull upraised, additional skulls were passed out to the others. Welly took his reluctantly, wishing he somehow didn’t have to touch it. But even its grisly glowing face was better than the thick blackness beyond. Blanche took a skull in one clawed foot and examined it contemptuously. Then she clambered through the gap in the wall, tossed the skull onto the floor, and kicked it ahead of her down the passage like a football. Her glowing nostrils provided all the light she needed, but the game was entertaining.
Troll scampered on ahead, raising his skull here and there to examine the walls. They were straight and featureless except for damp patches of moss and pale glowing fungi. Occasional wispy shadows flitted on ahead of their advancing lights, but the shadow-casters never showed themselves.
Baba and Merlin walked together while the witch eagerly imparted a torrent of magical advice. After a lecture on potions against radiation sickness and how to ward off vampire bats, she turned to the subject of Morgan.
“Of course, I don’t know as much about her as I should. Whenever she shows up, we try not to draw her attention. Not that I wouldn’t be a match for her, mind…. Well, maybe she’s just a teeny bit above my league. But my folks here would be easy targets for her shenanigans and for her horrid Otherworld friends.”
“Have you any advice for how to deal with her?” Merlin managed to squeeze in.
“Basically, my advice is not to deal with her. But that’s not an option for you, is it? This castle of hers isn’t really hers, of course, but she’s been using it on and off for centuries, since well before the Devastation anyway. Its original owner was a great pal of hers. So creatures who like her style are all over the place. And of course, there are all sorts of mutants. Radiation was quite severe in this part of the world. Really amazing what it did to some things.”
Their little party had been walking for some time down the dark passage, their footfalls echoing hollowly off the damp walls. With every step, the air seemed to get colder and heavier. And the smell of stale mildew increased. At last the passage ran into a rough wall of natural stone.
“End of the line,” Baba said briskly, “unless you want to blast your way through miles of solid rock. I’m sure, of course, Madam Dragon, you could make quite a dent, but fortunately you don’t have to. We’re right under the old castle here, and the passage’s ceiling is quite thin in this spot.”
Merlin gazed up at the ceiling. “Yes, I can feel it is. Are you coming farther with us?”
Baba sighed. “No, dear boy, I fear I cannot. How I’d love to get a crack at some real adventure again. But my pathetic people here would be lost if I go off adventuring and get myself reduced
to a quivering blob of magicked gunk. I confess, my magic’s rather the provincial kind. Good for frightening babies and making houses walk on chicken legs, but I’m no match for Morgan and her ilk. I wish you the best, though. It’s heartening to know there are others in the world I might actually like. Maybe we can keep in touch—even get together once this world straightens itself out a bit. Ta-ta!”
Briskly she shook everybody’s hand or claw, and in a flurry of flowered shawls and skirts, Baba bustled down the hall. Merlin watched her light shrink to a gray dot and vanish. Then he sighed and turned his attention back to the corridor ceiling.
“Baba’s right,” he said, putting down his glowing skull and igniting a brighter purple light along his staff. “The rock is very thin here, and there’s the base of some large structure just beyond it. All we have to do is break through.”
“Right,” Blanche said, drawing in a deep breath.
“No! No blowtorch here,” Merlin cried. “We need a little more subtlety.”
“Suit yourself, boy,” she said, letting smoke dribble unused from her lips. “I’m just along for the mindless-brawn role, it seems.”
When Troll tried to comfort her, she moodily sent him away coughing in a cloud of smoke.
Flipping his staff around, Merlin raised the pointed end to the ceiling. A narrow purple beam of light shot up and slowly etched a pencil-thin circle in the stone. The large circle completed itself, but nothing happened. Reversing his staff, Merlin impatiently battered the circular section with a broad purple beam. The rock shivered, cracked, and broke loose, smashing to the floor with a thunderous boom and an explosion of dust.
“Oh, master of subtlety you are,” Blanche snorted.
Chagrined, Merlin waited until silence and dust settled again. Nothing seemed to move beyond the opening. He hoped they were far away from the parts of the castle where anything lived that could hear them.
Welly stared into the opened darkness ten feet over their heads. The feeble glow from their skulls didn’t chip into it. “Now what?”
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