Yesterday's Magic

by Pamela F. Service

  “You people would be hopeless without me,” Blanche snapped. She grabbed Welly with a clawed foreleg and abruptly lifted him through the opening. Troll and Merlin followed; then, with a jump and a sculling of her wings, Blanche joined them, barely managing to squeeze herself through the hole.

  “You might have made it a little bigger,” she snarled at Merlin. “Just be glad you have a young lithe dragon like me to work with. Though, underfed as I’ve been since joining you, I’ll be lucky to ever be a big strapping adult.”

  “Chronic complainers often don’t survive to adulthood either,” Merlin grumbled as he led the group away from where the floor was ominously creaking around the hole.

  Merlin and Blanche had left their skulls below, but the light from the remaining two and from Merlin’s staff showed they were in a large stone vaulted room, dark and damp and empty. A small window high in one wall let in a thin sliver of predawn light. At the far end of the space, a narrow flight of stairs was carved into the wall, disappearing through a narrow opening at the top.

  “Looks like you’ll have to stay down here, Blanche,” Merlin said. “I’m sorry; I know you can be subtle, but you’re a little large for sneaking around castle passageways.”

  “Fine,” she grumbled. “I’ll just catch up on my rudely interrupted sleep.”

  Welly frowned. “Don’t sleep so hard you can’t hear us if we need you.”

  “Ignorant human. Dragons sleep with one eye and both ears open—to guard their treasure. Not that I’ve been given any chance to gather treasure on this adventure.”

  Leaving her grumbling, Merlin, Welly, and Troll headed for the stairs. They were steep and had no railing. Merlin and Troll had no trouble, but Welly’s fear rose with every step. He pressed himself so close to the wall he scraped off rock dust, but he still felt he was teetering on the edge.

  At last the stairs opened into another, smaller room. The vaulted stone ceiling was lower, and the main furniture seemed to be curtains of cobwebs. Seeing no doors or further stairs, Merlin stood in silence a moment, trying to locate the direction where he felt Heather to be. Then he led them to the right. The hanging cobwebs were thick and sticky. The more they pushed through, the more the clinging whiteness seemed to wrap around them. Hearing a squeal behind him, Merlin spun around and saw Troll almost totally cocooned in white. Welly, struggling to free his sword, wasn’t much better off.

  Looking down, Merlin saw white tendrils spreading over his own body, wrapping themselves around his legs and chest. Clutching at his sword, he fought to pull it loose from the scabbard, then slashed at the smothering webs. The Eldritch blade sliced through them. Like smoke, the torn webs writhed and curled away. Freeing himself, Merlin staggered to Welly and sliced the webs from his friend’s sword arm. Next he carefully cut loose the struggling troll. The webs didn’t give up but kept flapping and slithering toward them.

  “Better run!” Merlin called, and led the way, slashing whiteness as he went.

  After steady hacking, they broke free. The vault ahead of them was clear of cobwebs. Troll had lost his skull in the struggle, but by Welly’s light and the glow from Merlin’s staff, they saw that the only objects in the space ahead of them were several large rectangular stone boxes. Most were set back in shadowy niches, but as they passed close to one, Welly studied it and shivered. Its stone lid was partly shoved away. Inside, he glimpsed a scatter of brittle white bones.

  Behind him, Troll groaned. “No like this place. Want to be somewhere else.”

  Welly tried to sound brave and comforting, though his voice broke. “The floor’s slanting up, so we’re headed somewhere else.” Then he hurried to be a little closer to Merlin. “But, Earl, those were really humongous spiderwebs. And where there are spiderwebs…”

  “There are usually spiders,” Merlin finished for him. “And they’re here too. I can sense them. But they don’t like the light. Keep hold of that skull, and, Troll, keep up.”

  Instantly Troll was nearly plastered to the back of Welly’s legs. “Small spiders nice and crunchy. Big ones creepy. These big?”

  “Very,” Merlin said, gesturing into the darkness on their right. Two red eyes stared at them, disturbingly far from the floor. Welly took a hesitant step forward, thrusting his glowing skull toward the eyes. Briefly he saw a cluster of long hairy legs, a swollen belly, and a glint of fangs before the dog-sized creature scuttled back into the shadows.

  Merlin increased the level of purple light glowing from his staff. “We seem to be safe enough in the light, but let’s get out of here.”

  Welly had just opened his mouth to agree when he caught sight of something hanging on the ceiling above where the spider had been. A shapeless, sickly yellow glob. Suddenly with a slurping sound it dropped from the ceiling. Fierce hissing erupted. Their light showed a tangled mass of hairy legs and yellowish blob rolling over and over. Rolling their way.

  The three spun around and quickly headed in the direction they’d been going. The floor was more steeply slanted now and slippery. Very slippery. Welly felt slickness under his boots. He leaped ahead, trying to find surer footing, but the floor was so slick he slid back. Flailing his arms, he took another step and fell. Facedown on the floor, he realized the stone was covered in slime. Rolling over, he was suddenly looking into a large face. Two eyes on stalks, a slit sharp-toothed mouth, and smooth, slimy yellow skin. A giant slug!

  “Gross!” he squealed, and tried to sit up. The mouth split open and slime spewed out, thick yellowish putrid-smelling stuff, like the creature was endlessly blowing its nose at him. Welly gagged as the mucus covered his face. He reached up, trying to peel it away. More slime engulfed his hands, gluing them to his face. He flopped away like a fish, tried to stand, and again slid to the floor. Slime flowed over his legs, sticking them down.

  Welly tried to scream, but it only came out as a muffled gargle. Through the slime encasing his head, he heard other screams and thumps. He hoped to hear the saving sound of a sword cutting through this horrid slick cocoon. Nothing.

  The gluey coating was hardening now; he could barely twitch a muscle. Then, through his blinded eyes, he thought he saw the light level rise. The temperature certainly did. The hardened mucus all over his body started to heat up. It bubbled like soup, then began to drip away.

  Gasping, Welly staggered to his feet. Merlin, himself half engulfed in slime, was shooting heat from the tip of his staff. The large blob near his feet quivered and heaved. Troll burst forth. “Yuck, yuck, yuck! Troll hate slugs! Not even good eat. Yuck! Oh! Hot slug juice! Ouch, ouch!”

  “Sorry,” Merlin said as he boiled away the last of the slime encasing his own legs. “There wasn’t time for delicate temperature control.”

  Just then Welly felt a drop of slime fall on his head and slither down his cheek. He looked up. “There’re more on the ceiling!”

  Half a dozen glistening slugs, each a yard long, stared back at them with their wiggling eyestalks. “Run!” Merlin cried as he raised his staff and sprayed the ceiling with searing purple heat. Six shriveled yellow husks dropped to the floor. The light showed other glistening forms lurking in the shadows. Merlin turned and raced after the others.

  Troll was now clinging to Welly like a backpack. They passed several hardened translucent lumps that looked like giant spiders were entombed inside. They also saw a scattering of empty yellow skins lying about like popped and wizened balloons.

  “Looks like we stumbled into a major slug-versus-spider war,” Merlin said as they continued up what had now become a steep ramp.

  Welly shook his head. “I suppose we shouldn’t pick sides, but if there’s anything I hate worse than spiders, it’s gross things like slugs. Especially giant mutant ones.”

  Still clinging to Welly’s back, Troll shivered agreement. “Yuck!”

  Finally the ramp reached another floor. A wider corridor continued to slant upward, but more gradually, following a slow spiral. Through the outside wall, occasional slits let in pale gray
light. The other side of the corridor was made up of small cell-like rooms, empty except for chains, bones, and a few heaps of rotting foul-smelling stuff they didn’t want to examine. They hurried forward.

  “I don’t understand,” Merlin whispered. “We made enough noise down there to wake the dead—literally. Where are the guards, the denizens of this castle?”

  “It’s daytime now,” Welly suggested. “Like Baba said, maybe they don’t get about in the day.”

  “Something does,” Troll squeaked, peering over Welly’s shoulder. His big ears twitched. “Something with claws running this way.”

  After a moment, the others heard it too—large clawed feet charging down the sloping corridor toward them. By now they had passed the last of the cells and were in a wide empty hallway. Weak dusky light through a narrow window showed something small streaking their way and something much larger following. The pursuer looked like a cross between a giant cat and a magnified lizard. And it looked hungry. The object of its hunger pelted toward them and, without stopping, leaped on Merlin and scrambled to his shoulder.

  Thrown off balance, Merlin couldn’t fend off the pursuer. Lunging forward, Welly jabbed at it with his sword, raking a thin red scratch across the creature’s side. Hissing, the beast swerved aside and crouched, preparing to leap on Welly.

  Steadier now, Merlin slashed forward with his staff. The creature’s tail caught fire, and with a howl, it turned and raced back up the corridor.

  Awkwardly Merlin turned his head and looked into the face of the animal on his shoulder. A pale gray rat. It squeaked and chittered at him, but Merlin shook his head. “I don’t speak animal. Heather does, not me.”

  “Troll do too.” With that, Troll climbed down from Welly’s back and leaped onto Merlin’s. He thrust his face toward the rat, which cringed back against Merlin’s neck. Then the little creature began squeaking and chittering again. A couple times Troll answered back. Finally Troll jumped down and squatted on the floor.

  “Heather gone.”

  Merlin went cold. “Gone? How?”

  “Rat friend of Heather. Hours ago, very bad woman, must be Morgan, take Heather away. They get on very very bad beast and fly off. Direction just south of where sun rise.”

  Merlin frowned with confusion. “But…but I feel Heather here. Above us, in this building.”

  Troll nodded. “That trick. Morgan snip bit of Heather’s hair—put it in funny blue flame. Not burn, just floats in air.”

  “A decoy spell!” Merlin spat. “I should have known. It gave off enough of Heather’s essence to make me feel she was here. If I’d only probed…”

  “Never mind, Earl,” Welly said. “Morgan deceives everyone. Did the rat say any more, Troll?”

  “Say Heather not want us to follow. Too dangerous.”

  “As if dangerous weren’t part of this whole picture,” Welly muttered. “Anything else?”

  Troll grinned. “Rat say she hope we do follow. Heather nice person.”

  “And so we will!” Merlin said. “Troll, thank the rat and ask her if there’s anything we can do for her.”

  From where he sat, Troll chittered, and from Merlin’s shoulder, the rat chittered back.

  “Food nice,” Troll translated.

  Chuckling, Merlin gently lifted the rat from his shoulder, put her on the floor near a comfortable-looking hole, and fumbled in a sack tied to his belt. “Baba gave me these before we left. I hope rats like dried mushrooms.”

  He placed some by the rat’s twitching nose. Instantly she gobbled them up. Merlin nodded and put down the whole bag. With a parting squeak, the rat dragged the bag into the hole and disappeared.

  “Where to now?” Welly asked. “Back to the dragon?”

  “Not much choice. Which means, of course, back through slime-spewing slugs and clinging spiderwebs.”

  “Or not!” Troll cried. He’d clambered up the wall and was looking out the little slit of a window. “Dragon out there!”

  “What?” Merlin rushed to the window. The large white dragon, with shallow thrusts of her wings, was hovering just outside.

  “Numb ears!” she shouted at them. “Troops of guards are after you. Their tromping woke me up. Dragon hearing’s honed against treasure thieves.”

  “I don’t…,” Welly started to say just as flapping footsteps were indeed heard. From the far end of the corridor, the singed cat-lizard led a troop of gangly hairless near-humans. Whether muties or Otherworlders, Welly couldn’t tell, but their swords and axes made that unimportant. More and more kept coming.

  “Stand back,” Merlin ordered wearily, and raised his staff.

  “No, you idiots stand back!” Blanche bellowed from outside. In moments, there was a shivering crash and the wall buckled. Another crash, and stones fell away, leaving a ragged gap in the wall. The advancing soldiers blinked against the dust and flood of gray light. Squinting through it himself, Merlin saw the white back of the dragon rising and falling just outside.

  “So jump already!” Blanche yelled.

  Gripping his staff, Merlin did. He landed with a thump and began sliding off before his desperate fingers grasped a scale and he hauled himself up. Trembling, Welly followed, Merlin’s hand catching him before he slid far. Troll hesitated—until he heard the clicking tread of the cat-lizard. Then, squealing, he launched himself into space, landing squarely on top of Welly.

  Before they’d scarcely settled, the dragon veered away from the castle wall. “How did you get out here?” Merlin called over the rushing wind.

  “Left another hole in the wall below,” she answered. “Well, that’s what ruins are good for—ruining. Where to now?”

  “Southeast. To a girl who doesn’t want to be rescued and really hopes that she will be.”

  “She’s not the only one who hopes that,” Welly added.

  “No, indeed,” Merlin said, mentally adding a small gray rat to that list. “No, indeed.”

  TEMPLE

  Heather was curled up in tear-stained sleep when Morgan swooped down on her in the middle of the night. “Mourning period’s over. Time to go.”

  Heather glared up at her through red, darkly circled eyes. Hearing that boy’s voice in her mind last night after watching the battle beyond the tower had lightened her heart—but not her hatred of Morgan. “Your scouts…?”

  “Found nothing. And I was so looking forward to dragon steaks. The wretched underground dwellers must have hauled off the bodies. But just in case…”

  Swiftly Morgan brought up a knife and sliced off the tip of one of Heather’s frazzled braids. Muttering, the sorceress wove her fingers around it until the strands were enmeshed in a globe of blue light. With a flick, she set it bobbing in the air.

  “I doubt there’s anyone to pursue us now, but precautions never hurt.”

  “I’m not bait anymore?”

  “I’ve got other uses for you now, my dear, and frankly, more important business to attend to. Get moving. The timing is finally right.”

  She yanked Heather to her feet and dragged her toward the doorway.

  “Wait!” Heather cried. Twisting out of her grasp, Heather dropped back to the mattress and fumbled for her boots. She shot a glance to the base of the wall and saw the rat’s whiskered face peeking out.

  Find Earl. Tell him…. Try to tell him….

  I know, came the silent reply. Hear your thoughts. I tell him. Be safe.

  With her boots only half on, Heather was dragged to her feet and out the door. Once the sound of footsteps disappeared, the rat scurried from her hole and climbed a wall to sit on the broad windowsill, watching to see what direction her friend would be taken.

  When they climbed out onto a flat-topped tower, Heather shrank back. Morgan’s mount waited there. The reddish mane that surrounded its beaked face seemed tipped with flame. The creature shifted uneasily on slender legs, pawing the stones with clawed feet. Its split tail switched like an angry cat’s, and the folded wings seemed to hunch impatiently along its sid
es.

  “Choose,” Morgan commanded. “Ride behind me or travel as you did here, in a black cocoon.” She gestured to the right, and Heather saw several wizened figures holding a cloud of darkness. She recognized the stifling smell.

  “I’ll ride,” Heather managed to say.

  Moments later, they were soaring over the broken battlements of the half-ruined castle. No lights showed as its dark crouched shape dropped away into the night. Heather hated having to touch Morgan, let alone clutch her around the waist. But it was that or plummet into the mountainous darkness.

  The wings beside them beat a steady rhythm, but cold and fear kept Heather fully awake. Finally she wrestled up enough courage to ask, “Where are we going?”

  After a long silence, Morgan answered. “I have business with an old…acquaintance of mine. You see, while your precious Merlin was stagnating in that mountain, I was free. The old world offered a lot of scope for one with my interests. I traveled quite a bit, met a number of most interesting characters. When the Devastation came, that world changed, and I admit to not traveling as widely. After all, there’s not nearly as much of the world worth visiting. But on the whole, most changes I’ve seen have been very much to my liking.”

  Morgan would find a blasted world to her liking, Heather thought angrily. But she decided this might be the time to ask a long-nagging question. “I know how Earl…Merlin kept alive in that mountain, cycles of reversed aging or something. But what about you? You’re not immortal.”

  The laugh in front of her was high and cruel as a bird of prey’s. “Not exactly. But close enough—now. There are types of magic that your prim and proper former lover wouldn’t touch. But they are very powerful. The types of magic I might just share—if you join with me. Think of it, Heather. Think what you could do with many lifetimes.”

  Heather did think, and shivered. She’d rather have one lifetime with Earl than many with the likes of Morgan. Remembering now what Earl had once said about Morgan, she shivered even deeper. Morgan had prolonged her life by having dealings with death. Heather didn’t know quite what that meant, but it sounded deeply wrong.