Yesterday's Magic

by Pamela F. Service

  For days and nights, they flew on, stopping for brief periods to let the beast rest. Heather sometimes slept where she rode, feeling now some sort of magical strap holding her on. Mostly she looked down at the land passing below. Mountainous and snow-covered, some of it. A few huddled villages, a far greater number of ruined cities. Other stretches were just blasted glassy plains or cindery craters in the ground. Between these, though, she spied patches of green, even occasional scatterings of what looked like flowers. This part of the world seemed to be slowly recovering, just like Britain was. But in her present circumstances, even that didn’t cheer her very much.

  They rose higher now so as to clear rows of ice-encased mountains that glinted like giant crystals. From things Morgan had said and her own hazy memories of geography classes, Heather figured these must be the Himalayas. And beyond them, she thought, was India. All exotic-sounding places she’d hardly believed in, let alone thought to see. She certainly hadn’t wanted to see them like this, as a captive heading to an unknown and probably horrid future.

  Slowly they dropped lower again. The ground below was rocky and still mountainous. Scraggly vegetation spread over it, choking what now appeared to be a vast complex of ruined stone buildings. Gliding lower, they landed gently at the foot of a cliff pockmarked with caves.

  The bands around her loosened, and stiffly Heather dismounted. The cloak of warmth they had ridden with dissolved as well, and she shivered in the cold. Looking around, she saw only ruins. But once, those buildings must have been gorgeous, she realized. Intricately carved stone was piled into towers and walls, pinnacles and buttresses. All were now strangled by thick gray vines, vines that sprouted only a few sickly green leaves.

  She glanced back at the cliff and noticed that some of the caves were half closed by recent-looking walls of rubble. From behind them, a few dark heads peered out. Suddenly words tickled her mind.

  You here? With an evil one?

  Heather recognized the frightened distant voice she’d heard in her mind nights ago! But now it didn’t feel distant. Not by choice, she thought back. Can you help me?

  Frightened. Silence. Silence broken by Morgan ordering her to follow.

  Heather did, stumbling into the gloom as ruins rose around her. To keep both fear and hope at bay, she studied the stone. Every inch was carved. Now worn by weather and time, only a few shapes were recognizable. Animals, birds, flowers, and some things that might have been humans—except for the hideous heads or the unusual number of arms. Surely these ruins were very old, older than muties anyway. Had Morgan brought her to another gate to Otherworlds? Or were these very ancient temples to mythical gods? Or both?

  Morgan’s nails gripped her shoulder and shook Heather back to attention. “We’re here,” she snapped. “Be silent now. Do as I do.”

  Had she detected a note of fear in Morgan’s voice? Heather wondered. What were they facing that could frighten Morgan Le Fay?

  They passed between two carved doorposts into a large dimly lit room. Sickly sweet smoke clouded the air. Through it she saw flickering flames in hanging pierced metal lamps. More intricate carvings covered these stone walls, but Heather’s attention was drawn to the living figures. On both sides, they clustered. Most were small, bent, and dark. A few seemed human. Others were muties, but some could never have mutated that way. Even muties never sprouted horns, or saber-like fangs, or heads that clearly belonged on animals.

  Heather shivered. Untrained or not, she had enough magic to sense the presence of Otherworlders, and of overwhelming power—power that seemed partly evil and partly something else, something deeper and older than evil.

  “Morgan Le Fay and companion,” Morgan announced imperiously. “Take us to suitable rooms. Your mistress is expecting us.”

  At this, a bent old man wearing a dark wraparound robe bowed and led them away. Heather followed Morgan closely, careful not to brush against anything. The ancient power around her felt thick and dark as soot. They climbed stone stairs that were worn in the center by generations of feet and padded along arched corridors. At every landing and corner, they passed guards whose swords looked only slightly more threatening than their grotesque horns and fangs. At last a wooden door was flung open and they entered a room that was more than “suitable.” The word that came to Heather’s mind was sumptuous.

  Looking around, Morgan seemed to sigh with relief. “This will do,” she said haughtily to the stooped, wrinkled attendant. Bowing, he backed out of the room and closed the door.

  Laughing, Morgan threw herself down on a divan. “One can never be quite sure with our hostess, but indeed, we do seem to be welcome. Timing is everything with her. Phases of the moon and such determine which side of her personality rules.”

  Heather puzzled over that for a moment, then gave up and studied the room, trying not to like what she saw. That was difficult. A richly patterned rug carpeted the floor, and large soft-looking pillows were scattered about it. Brass filigree lamps hung from the ceiling, swaying in a breeze from an open grilled window and casting speckles of light around the colorful room. By a pair of divans, a low brass table held real glass bottles and goblets as well as several plates of tempting-smelling food. Tapestries hung on the walls except where arched openings suggested other rooms beyond.

  Morgan leaned forward and examined the table. “Ah, honey cakes. There are few enough flowers and bees left to make honey. Kali does not stint herself—or her guests.”

  Heather sat carefully on the other divan, feeling dirty, out of place, and uneasy in this room. “So Kali is the name of a woman you came here to meet?”

  Morgan munched a honey cake and delicately licked her fingers. “Yes, but ‘woman’ is hardly the term. Kali is a Power, one of the strongest denizens of any Otherworld to maintain residence in this world. She is very, very old.”

  “Older than you?”

  Morgan laughed. “Oh, a great deal older, but we share some common interests.”

  That didn’t sound hopeful to Heather. If this Kali person had much in common with Morgan, no help could be expected there.

  Picking out a cluster of grapes, Morgan said, “Come, eat some of this food. I’m sure your pathetic ‘feasts’ with King Arthur had nothing to compare with these delicacies.” When Heather still hesitated, she snapped, “Don’t be such a suspicious fool. Why would I want to poison you now? We have plans.”

  Finally Heather gave up and nibbled at some of the cakes and fruit. She hated to be disloyal to Arthur and Britain, but the food was amazingly good.

  After Morgan had eaten her fill and drunk several glasses of juice, she pointed to one of the adjacent rooms. “There’s a bath in there. Go clean yourself and get rid of that disgusting wool rag you’re wearing. I’m sure new clothes are ready for us. And wash your nasty stringy hair. Remember, to some, the person you’re meeting tomorrow is a goddess.”

  That was disturbing. Heather was getting used to dealing with magical persons and had even met the exquisitely wonderful Lady of Avalon. But an out-and-out goddess might be a very different matter.

  Much of Heather’s uneasiness, though, slipped away when she went into the next room and lowered herself into the golden tub filled with warm scented water. When Heather finally pulled herself out, Morgan pointed to another room with thickly mattressed beds and flung her a soft white nightgown. Morgan went to take a bath of her own, but Heather fell asleep the moment her head touched the down-filled pillow.

  The relaxing luxury of her night, however, was soon disturbed. Only darkness showed through the grilled window when itchiness in her mind prodded her awake. I am sorry, the voice said, the one she’d heard earlier. I was frightened. We all are, always frightened. But you are special. I can hear you. I must not let you be hurt.

  Where are you?

  Nearby, in the caves. We all must work for Kali. Sometimes it is frightful work. But we are born to it. You are not. You must leave here, leave the dread temple. Leave before it is too late for you.


  I want to leave. But how?

  Silence. I do not know. Are any coming to help you?

  No, Heather struggled to admit. There should not be. I told them to not try to rescue me. It’s too dangerous for him…for them.

  Again silence stretched in her mind. Then I will try to help. But there is little I can do. Danger is everywhere.

  This voice was gone. Heather tried to call it back, but the only noises in her head were her own thoughts. Not pleasant ones. She wished the voice had been more specific. What was the danger? Well, she could guess at it. Morgan clearly wanted her to join with her in some way, to teach her this new magic Heather supposedly had. Earl had told Heather that her magic was indeed a new type, dependent more on life—on the web that binds people together. And there was this strange mind-talking thing that was developing. She didn’t think Morgan knew about that—which was probably good.

  No longer sleepy, Heather sat up in bed, wrapped herself in her soft blanket, and thought. This danger the voice warned of—that might be it. Heather didn’t feel that her own magic was very strong, but if it really was so different, then letting Morgan gain any of it would be dangerous—to the world. Earlier, Morgan had talked about using power to rebuild the world. But any future world Morgan could envision would not be one Heather wanted to share.

  Still, Heather didn’t see how her magic could easily add to Morgan’s. After all, she hardly understood it herself. How could she teach it to Morgan—even if the sorceress tried to force her to?

  When dawn was just paling the sky, Heather slipped again into sleep. She didn’t wake until Morgan’s sharp voice sliced through to her. “Up! Nearly time for our audience, lazy child! There’s a suitable wardrobe in that closet. Choose quickly.”

  Sleepily Heather climbed out of bed and walked to the closet. On a long bar hung a dozen colorful dresses, each more wonderfully embroidered than the last. Her hand lingered on an emerald-green one, but Morgan pulled out another and thrust it at her.

  “Here. Red is more appropriate for you today. Dress, and we’ll do something with your ridiculous hair.”

  The dress was beautiful, brilliant red embroidered with squiggly patterns of black and gold. It almost hurt her eyes to look at them, but wearing the dress, she wouldn’t have to. Heather slipped it on, enjoying the amazing light feel of the material. She noticed that Morgan too was wearing a new dress, black embroidered with red and set with hundreds of small mirrors. In it, the sorceress looked, as always, shapely and elegant. Heather sighed. Despite her own dress and the fancy hairdo Morgan suddenly conjured for her, Heather knew that beauty and elegance were not meant to be hers.

  “Those gold sandals,” Morgan said, pointing, “are much more suitable than your old scuffed boots. Put them on.”

  At that, Heather balked. “This place may be elegant, but it’s cold. I’ll keep the boots on, thanks.”

  The woman shrugged, fastening her own jeweled sandals. “It hardly matters now.”

  They were no sooner ready than the stooped old man from the night before was at the door. “Follow. The great Kali, the Duel Goddess, the Destroyer, the Great Mother, the Giver and Taker of Life, awaits.”

  The attendant scurried ahead, and Morgan confidently followed. Heather wondered if there was any way not to follow. She liked the sound of this Kali person less every minute. But Heather was sure that blindly dashing down some other corridor would only lead to one of those fanged guards forcing her back.

  Heather soon lost track of their turnings and the stairs they climbed up or down. But the farther they went, the more she was aware of a sound, a throbbing drumbeat vibrating through her feet and into her ears like the heartbeat of a mountain.

  At last they passed through an arch onto a balcony where a broad stairway led down to a huge high-vaulted room. The drumming came from there. Beyond shadowy pillars, Heather could just make out the drummers and twisting, gyrating dancers. That was the only movement in the vast space. Then abruptly the drumming stopped. The figures melted into the shadows, and Heather uneasily followed Morgan down the stairs. The old man did not come with them.

  The room was very large and very empty-feeling. At first she thought the floor was covered in mist, but when she stepped into it, Heather realized it was ash, a sea of gray ash. At times it was nearly knee-deep. As they waded through, Heather noticed gray sticks and lumps sticking up through the ash. Bones! She tried not to touch any but winced whenever she felt something brittle crunch under her ash-enshrouded boots.

  In the middle of the room, broad stairs rose out of the ash, and gratefully Heather climbed them. They led to a dais curtained off with billowy black drapes. Suddenly the drapes curled aside like writhing flames, and Heather saw Kali.

  Sitting on a bone-encrusted throne was a gigantic woman, maybe twenty feet tall. She was black. Not human black, but the black of deepest midnight. And she was nearly naked. Shapely in a way that would have made flat-chested Heather envious had she not been so horrified by the rest of her.

  Kali had four emaciated arms, adorned with bone-white bangles. Her long necklace seemed to be a string of human heads, their necks still bleeding over her bare black body. Around her waist, a coiling snake held up her short skirt, a skirt of severed human hands. Under a wild crown of disheveled black hair, Kali’s face was beautiful and horrible. Her lips and flicking tongue were blood-red. She stared coolly at Morgan and Heather with all three of her eyes.

  Stopping at a broad landing near the top of the dais, Morgan bowed. “Great Kali, Revered Goddess of Death, Great Mother, Destroyer and Giver of Life, I, Morgan Le Fay, greet you once more.”

  Kali continued to stare at them. Heather shivered under the glance of the third eye set in the middle of the woman’s forehead. Then the goddess spoke in a voice like cascading ice, sharp and cold.

  “Greetings, Morgan. You have done well since last we met. So much death and destruction passes in your wake. It pleases me. But who is this beside you?”

  “A minor magic worker, but young and imbued with new power. I mean her to share in my life.”

  “Ah. Yes, it would be time. Your deeds continue to earn my aid.” Abruptly she stood up, spewing new blood from the skirt of severed hands. She gestured to gargoyle-like figures crouched on either side of her throne, figures Heather had taken to be more carvings. “Bind her!”

  Instantly the creatures sprang at Heather. Before she could flinch aside, her hands and feet were bound with stout black ropes. She screamed in protest, but Kali only laughed, a deep rocky laugh. She gestured again and two more grotesque figures stepped from behind the throne, each carrying a white bowl. One, filled with bubbling red liquid, was handed to the goddess. The other, an empty one, was placed on the flagstone in front of Heather. She stared down at it and realized it was a bowl made from the top of a human skull.

  With one hand Kali made a complicated gesture, spreading and curling fingers. With another she reached beside her throne and grabbed a long curved sword, its blade already dripping blood. With her remaining two hands, she raised the bowl to her lips and drained it.

  Crying wildly, the goddess flung the empty bowl into the surrounding sea of ash. Then she leaped over the heads of the watchers, spraying them with blood from her skirt and necklace. Landing on the ash-shrouded temple floor, she began to dance. Again drumbeats echoed in the hall. Great ashy clouds rose and swirled as the giant goddess danced wildly around the floor.

  Terrified, Heather struggled with her bindings, but Morgan only smiled and shrugged. “Kali does enjoy herself. She’s the goddess of death, and life as well. But the moon is dark now, and anyway, these days the death aspect is definitely her favorite. She’s been getting so much more of that in the last few hundred years.”

  “And you work for her!” Heather yelled accusingly.

  “Oh, no. I am very much my own person. But we share common interests, and perhaps together we and others similarly inclined can nudge the world into becoming even more to our liking. Kali has indee
d given me a little friendly help now and then.”

  “I understand now. That’s what Earl meant when he said you had extended your life by having dealings with death.”

  “Why, yes; how perceptive of him. But life and death are two parts of the same thing. One can’t have—or extend—life without death. And that is where you come in, my dear.”

  “You didn’t want to learn my magic at all.”

  “No, I want to absorb it. If I just feed off the death of some non-magical person, it doesn’t do me nearly as much good. But if you are half of what Merlin claimed, you should give me quite an edge.”

  By now, Kali’s gyrating dance was drawing her closer and closer. The drums shook the hall like an angry heart. In horror, Heather watched as the goddess and her bleeding sword approached the bottom step. Heather’s eyes dropped to the empty skull bowl at her feet and then raised to Morgan’s greedily smiling face.

  Morgan, she thought with a blast of hate. The sorceress had deliberately deceived her, almost been nice to her. How had she fallen for it again? All that sisterly talk about new clothes, baths, and honey cakes. What a monster this woman was!

  Heather closed her eyes and wished desperately for help. She knew there was none outside to call upon. She had only the magic within her, but that had proved of little use up to now.

  Yet there would be no more now if she did not act.

  SACRIFICE

  As they soared southeast, Merlin could barely sense the dark trail that they had followed before. It was there, but only faintly, as if Morgan was either convinced he was dead or had other things in mind besides luring him. The thought made him both more hopeful and more worried. If she was concentrating on her plans for Heather and not him, the result might not be good.

  What drew him on mostly now was Heather herself. He could sense her, feel the bracelet he’d given her still clutching her wrist. And the staff that she had given him seemed to yearn for the way they were heading.