Awen Storm

by O J Barré

  He wheeled to confront it, but nothing was there.

  “What is it?” Ethnui stopped walking and stuck her head next to his.

  “I heard something.” He pulled the pistol from his pocket. “Stay here, I’m going back a short way to see what it is.” She grabbed his arm.

  “Be careful, Brian.”

  Steeling his nerves, he moved slowly and stealthily, one step at a time, listening with all his senses. The darkness closed in around him. He was thinking about Emily when he heard her whisper.

  “Brian?”

  He stopped walking. He shined his light all around, seeing nothing but tunnel walls. “Emily? Are you there?”

  Hamilton roused. “Emily, we’re here. Are you okay? Where are you?”

  “I’m at a party on the beach. But we’re leaving the Bahamas for Beli soon. How did you find me, Brian?”

  “Huh?” Brian said, confused. “You found us. Didn’t you just call my name?”

  “No. But I’m glad you’re here. Where are you?”

  “In a tunnel heading for Blowing Rock, North Carolina. There’s supposed to be a portal. We’re hoping to get back home from there.”`

  Hearing a snap, he released the safety and held the gun in both hands. “Emily? You there?”

  She didn’t answer, but something crept toward him. The hairs on his arms stood at attention. A light flashed on. It was Ethnui.

  “What the hell? You almost got shot!”

  “Did you find anything?” She flicked her beam in the direction he’d been heading.

  “No.”

  “Then let’s go.” She turned on her heels and strode down the tunnel.

  With a glance back over his shoulder, Brian hurried after her, wishing for the well-lit, polished halls surrounding the Dracos’ prison below Atlanta.

  “Emily?” he said inside his head.

  “She’s gone,” Hamilton said. A flash of light made him stop short as Ethnui’s beam reflected off something shiny.

  “Hey, hold up! There’s something over there. On the wall to the right.”

  Ethnui ran her lightstick along the surface, and sure enough, there was a directional sign. They studied the map.

  “It looks like there’s a settlement here.” She pointed to a spot labeled “Mu” not far from the tunnel. “Should we check it out?”

  “Yes, let’s. We need food and water.” He shook his almost-empty bottle. “And a bed would be nice.” There was a snuffle behind them. He whirled, but saw nothing.

  Still uneasy, he followed her down the side tunnel until it opened to a clearing. Daylight was just breaking.

  “Hal-le-effing-lujah!” he crowed, eyes adjusting to the brightness. They were finally, finally out of the infernal caves.

  “Stay close,” Ethnui warned. “We don’t know who or what might be waiting in this town.”

  Brian’s elation dampened. He shadowed her through a sweeping grassland dotted with horses, cows, goats, and chickens.

  “Hey, we have these same animals in AboveEarth.”

  “Of course, silly. What did you think?”

  “Oh, I don’t know. I keep hoping to see something new and exotic.” Ethnui chuckled, then stopped, finger to her lips.

  A woman who looked a lot like Ethnui approached from the village. She wore a burgundy robe and had flowers in her hair and said something in a lilting language. Ethnui answered eagerly. All Brian understood was “Ethnui” and “Brian”.

  “What did she say?”

  “Good morning, basically. But Brian, you won’t believe it! Her name is Petra, and she’s a Fomorian, like me. She says there are many of them living in this village.” She spoke to the woman, who said something else and turned toward town, motioning them to follow.

  Delighted, Ethnui translated. “She’s going to feed us and let us rest in her home.”

  Brian hesitated. “Are you sure it’s safe?” After what they’d been through, the last thing they needed was an ambush. Especially this close to escaping UnderEarth.

  “Pretty sure. Like the rest of my people, she’s not a friend of the Dracos. She says the nearest reptilian base is mostly deserted, and a good fifty kilometers away. How about we have a bite, take turns sleeping, then get back on the road?”

  **

  They spent the morning in Petra’s home in the village eating and drinking copious amounts of water. When they were finished, she gave them a sweet dish of cashew flowers and crème. While Brian slept, Ethnui refilled their water bottles and conversed with Petra.

  The town of Mu was a peaceful Fomorian village. Its older population had been lost to the slave trade. But since then, they’d been mostly insulated from the horrors Ethnui’s kin had experienced. The remaining residents consisted of a few old crones, and the rest were younger than Ethnui.

  “Do you have computers?” Her handheld’s kinetic battery had worked well, even in the tunnels, but it needed to be synced to the main-brain periodically.

  Petra nodded cautiously.

  “Can I take a look?”

  The woman hesitated, then shook her head. “It is better you don’t. The Dracos monitor our activity. If you plug in to their system, they will know you are here and attack our peaceful village.”

  “So you are under scrutiny, but they leave you alone? How do you manage that?”

  “One of the more-civilized Dracos mated a girl from the village. He took pity on her and spared us, but the reprieve is tenuous. We dare not rouse their attention or make them suspicious. They marched in and killed the last ones who did. And several others. Plus, you travel with a human. That automatically makes you a target. They hate humans, except as food and a source of the negative energy that keeps them going.”

  “Negative energy? What do you mean?”

  Petra eyed her warily. “You did not know this? The Dracos thrive on negative energy. They beam high-frequency waves that create despair and anxiety. The beams penetrate Earth’s crust and keep humans on edge and fighting one another. It’s what creates the anger and greed and feelings of futility that drive their wars, which further fuel the Dracos.”

  As she spoke, Petra became more agitated. She stood abruptly and moved to the window to peer through the thick curtains. “It is best you go. The villagers are beginning to gather outside. Wake your human companion. I will show you the back way to the tunnels.”

  Petra clutched her breast and wheeled. “Hurry, Ethnui! Jhondu approaches. He will be angry that I took you in. You must go now, or who knows what punishment he will mete.”

  Ethnui hurried to the window. The Fomorian Petra spoke of strode toward the house, and looked angry indeed. The crowd parted to let him through. Ethnui slid her handheld in her thigh belt, grabbed their replenished packs, and went to wake Brian.

  “Come, we must go.”

  Brian protested and rolled toward the wall. She shook him harder.

  “Hurry, human. Trouble approaches.”

  That got his attention. Wide-eyed and wary, Brian leapt from the bed, slipped on his shoes, and raked fingers through his thick, black hair. As they slipped out the back door behind Petra, angry fists pounded on the front one.

  Puzzling Development

  Shalane had searched Manny’s estate and Ebby was nowhere to be found. She’d asked the two men with whom Ebby had arrived, but they had no idea. Not wanting her to know someone was looking, Shalane put a temporary spell on both of them, just in case.

  After that, Shalane danced with a young stud from Zephyr Cay, necked with a sweet hotty from Surry doing a stint at the Oceanic Observatory, and conversed with an aging Rasta who claimed to be descended from Bob Marley. All the while, she kept a lookout for Ebby Panera.

  She hadn’t imbibed since Ebby’s arrival, and her head was clear. Leaving the dance floor, Shalane searched again, weaving in and out of the thinning crowd. She peeked in every room of the bungalow, startling more than one couple. But no Ebby Panera.

  Trudging to the beach, Shalane found a few stragglers, mos
t of whom were necking or passed out on the sand. The tiki hut and drink tent were closed. She circled the roasting pit and peeked behind the serving platform. No Ebby. Not that she had expected to see her there.

  Frustrated, Shalane stopped to regroup. She took three deep breaths and called on Archangel Michael to help locate the woman, then leaned against the tiki hut and waited for direction. When none came, she slogged through the fine, crystalline sand, first in one direction, and then the other.

  How the fuck had Ebby disappeared? Shalane’s spell should have confined her to the property, or at least signaled Shalane if Ebby tried to leave.

  The beach was deserted. The lights had been doused, and the outdoor speakers switched off. Shalane wandered down to the hard-pack just above the waterline, where it was easier to walk. She stopped to scan the dark beach in both directions, fighting anger. This was getting old. The woman was here. She had to be.

  Mitch had been adamant. His plan hinged on Shalane locating Emily, so they could take her back to Atlanta tomorrow.

  Shalane plodded through the infernal sand back to the jungle as a cooling wind sprang up, blowing the synthetic black tresses. Grateful for relief from the oppressive heat, she lifted the hair from her neck and went sprawling face-first into the sand.

  What the fuck? Had she tripped?

  Someone moaned. Pivoting on hands and knees, Shalane felt along the dark sand and encountered skin—first a leg, then a thigh. A woman’s.

  Could this be Ebby?

  Crawling closer, Shalane found an arm and followed it to a boob and on up. When her fingers tangled in a mass of curls, she knew it had to be Mitch’s sister. Sliding one hand beneath the heavy head, Shalane leaned close and peered at the oval face. Ebby was out cold. Had Shalane done that?

  She dragged the woman into her lap, brushing sand from her hair and dress. The body seemed frail beneath the thin material. Shalane remembered her having more curves. Was Ebby sick?

  She jumped when the surf slapped against the shore. It crashed and fell, then receded to the sea. Thunder rolled, far away. The breeze stiffened. Shalane looked to the sky. The stars that had shone so brightly earlier, had disappeared. Lightning flashed, backlighting the clouds.

  Shalane hugged Ebby to her, rocking slowly to the rhythm of the tide. Ebby’s face against her breast should make Shalane hornier than a teenaged boy at an orgy. But she felt no heat. Not even a spark.

  Instead, she felt a heavy sense of duty. She’d promised to bring Mitch’s sister to him. But Shalane hadn’t expected this. This was Mitch’s sister, Emily Hester, not the Ebby Panera that Shalane had loved.

  Settling Emily’s head on the ground, Shalane rose to trudge back through the sand to tell the driver to ready the boat. Thunder rolled, louder and closer. Shalane eyed the distance to the house and groaned. Oh, how she detested the beach. A soft rain began to fall.

  “Oh, great. Sand in my crotch and I’ll soon be drenched.”

  **

  Emily woke to water dripping on her face. It took a moment to realize she was still on the beach and in the rain. And another to remember why. The dread and doom came rushing back, threatening to keep her down.

  But she sat up anyway, groaning when pain shot through her head above her right ear. She cupped her temples and pressed, momentarily keeping her head from bursting and spewing gray matter everywhere. Or so it felt.

  The pain hadn’t been this bad in a while—at least a couple of weeks. Rising to a squat sent the knife deeper. Emily waited for a second, then hauled herself up bit by bit, and braced her hands on her knees. With every breath it hurt like the dickens. She scanned her foggy memory for a pain-relieving spell and mumbled the words.

  Nothing happened.

  She stood up straight, shoulders back. The pain ratcheted up another notch. Focusing as best she could, Emily connected with the beach, the rain-filled sky, the vast, churning ocean, and the fire burning in the belly of the earth. Feeling a burst of energy, she whispered the spell as rain dripped from her chin.

  This time, the pain eased a little. Her labored breathing calmed. From the corner of one eye, Emily caught a movement. She glanced toward the pit and spied a silhouette lumbering through the rain in her direction. Danger meter maxing, Emily edged closer to the jungle and crouched low. The black figure neared, huffing and growling in a familiar voice.

  Emily’s heart pounded. It couldn’t be.

  **

  Shalane stopped and looked behind her. She should’ve come across Emily by now. Had she walked too far? Frantic, she peered into the night. The rain had ceased for the moment, but clouds still shrouded the thin moon, and the lights from the house had been extinguished. She could see no further than a few feet. Shalane doubled back, weaving from jungle to hardpack, searching for Emily Hester.

  **

  The witch passed her, muttering profanities. Emily shifted in the thick underbrush, timing her movements to the crash of the tide. Briars slashed her bare arms and legs. Biting her lip to keep from crying out, Emily debated whether to make a break for the house. She was about to do that very thing when the mumbling ceased and Shalane halted midstride. Emily held her breath.

  Shalane turned and walked in her direction, then veered toward the beach. It was now or never. Gathering her courage, Emily parted the brush, gouging her arms. She sneaked out of the coppice and edged along the border, darting back in when Shalane turned and walked her way.

  **

  Losing patience, Shalane peered through the darkness shrouding the beach. She inched toward the jungle, shrieking when the bushes parted noisily, and Emily Hester materialized.

  “Leave me alone, you psycho witch!”

  “Psycho?” Shalane chuckled.

  “Stay away from me, Shalane. Or, you’ll wish you had!” Emily knocked her flat and ran toward the house.

  Still on her backside, Shalane spoke an incantation to hog-tie Emily’s legs. Her quarry cried out as she hit the sodden beach. Shalane smiled. Another spell bound Emily’s wrists and taped her big mouth shut.

  Satisfied Emily couldn’t escape or call for help, Shalane hauled herself up and huffed across the beach to leer down at her captive. She nudged her with one toe. The whites of Emily’s eyes gleamed, and she strained against her restraints.

  Now to get her to the speedboat.

  Levitating Emily a few feet off the ground, Shalane marched behind her to the dock, cursing the wet, shifting sand every step of the way.

  Search and Rescue

  Khenko raked his winnings to him. He might be sloshed, but he could still beat a bunch of amateurs. Randall sat next to him rubbing his back. He had gone all-in earlier and lost.

  “Ready to head home?” Randall might not be much of a poker player, but he was good at plenty of other things.

  Nodding, Khenko rose, and for the first time in hours, wondered what had become of Emily. Frantic now, he and Randall searched the bungalow. She wasn’t there, or in the yard, or on any of the patios. They hurried down the path to the beach, but Emily wasn’t there, either.

  “Maybe she got tired and went back to the Center,” Randall suggested. “She wasn’t all that keen on coming in the first place.”

  “True,” Khenko replied. “Only I don’t think she would leave without telling me first.” A chill went through him. Something was wrong.

  They interrupted the poker game, but no one at the table had seen Emily. Thanking Manny for a kick-ass party, Khenko and Randall stumbled down the verandah stairs to the gravel drive. Drunkenly weaving their way toward the center, Randall stopped to take a piss in the jungle, and Khenko joined him.

  Arm-in-arm, they stumbled up his driveway, snickering and helping each other walk. When a wild sow squealed nearby, scaring them both, they squealed in answer and raced up the stairs.

  The door was unlocked, the way Khenko had left it. But Emily Hester was not inside. Holy Mother of God, he’d gotten drunk and lost the Awen.

  **

  The boat sped over the cho
ppy sea. In the bow where Shalane had dumped her none-too-gently, Emily worked to unbind her hands. She was getting nowhere, and thanks to the unmerciful pounding she was taking, the headache had come back in full force.

  “I’ve got our girl.” In the stern, Shalane talked on the ship-to-shore, her silhouette visible in the scant light.

  Our girl? Who could Shalane be talking to?

  Emily craned her neck, hoping to enlist the driver’s aid. He’d seemed surprised and uneasy when Shalane brought her on board, but he was out of sight in the forward compartment. Emily tried again to do a spell, but her mouth was taped shut, and her arms and legs bound.

  Remembering Losgann the frog Elder's instructions, Emily squeezed her eyes tight and silently called the dragons, focusing on her predicament and whereabouts. The boat skipped over a large wave and slammed into the trough so hard, Emily yelped and nearly fainted. She shifted an inch to cushion her head on the life jacket Shalane had thrown at her after tossing her in the bow.

  Her mind raced, working on an escape plan in case the dragons didn’t hear or respond. But the boat was speeding through rough waters, and every thud racked her head until the pain became an ungodly roar.

  The sickle moon disappeared, and the drizzle started again. It soon settled into a downpour, every drop a stinging torture against Emily’s exposed skin. Her body temperature plummeted, and an uncontrollable shiver set in.

  **

  Dragon roar startled Khenko awake from the alcoholic stupor into which he must’ve fallen. Hauling his bones off the sofa, he rubbed his eyes and hurried to the back porch. There in the drizzling rain, with her front paws planted on the top step, Talav howled loud enough to wake the island.

  “Alright, alright, I’m up. What is it?” Khenko yawned. Then his eyes opened wide. He vaguely remembered calling the dragon. Emily was missing, and he was to blame. “Oh crap! It’s Emily. She left the party, and we can’t find her.”