Darkthunder's Way (44 page)

Dale knew in an instant what he was about, but it was already too late. For a bare second his weary eyes met the Faery captain’s hard, bright ones across the vast cylinder of the serpent. “The seventh spot,” the Faery said, and took aim.

“No!” Dale hollered. “You goddamn son of a bitch!”

The bowstring twanged, the sound delicately clear amid the harsh cacophony.

Dale froze as he saw the arrow fly. He prayed that the wind would take it, whip it away to fall uselessly on the roof, but he knew from bitter experience of the prowess of Lugh’s archers, and thus knew that such hopes were in vain. He did not even blink when the shaft struck home in the scaled back of the monster that had once been his favorite nephew.

The ensuing scream was louder than the thunder.

Abruptly the vast body heaved toward him, touched gently, almost casually…and sent the ground rushing up to knock the air from his lungs. For the first time that terrible evening he was grateful for the mud. He scrambled up, made for the steps, had barely reached them when a second heave jerked a massive coil his way once more. It missed, and he almost made the porch before a third blow caught him and smashed the steps to kindling. Trapped between the creature’s rock-hard scales and the equally solid wood of the porch sill, he heard his shinbone crack. The sound reached his ears before he felt the pain.

* * *

It was a miracle either Alec or Liz could act, so stunned were they by what they had witnessed. It was just them now, Alec realized. Bare moments before they had been five, then four, three. Him and Liz now: two fingers where once had been a hand. And two fingers weren’t enough for holding.

“Alec!” Liz’s shout wrenched him from the awful reverie. “Come on, we’ve gotta get him in.” Already she was pushing through the door.

“Right,” Alec grunted dully, and plodded after.

“Now!”
Green fire lit Liz’s eyes, visible through the tears.

Somehow he was on the porch. Lashing rain soaked him in an instant. Dale had made it halfway across the shattered porch, but his face was near as white as his beard. Liz was beside him, wind whipping her hair into her face. Alec grabbed a shoulder, heaved, as Liz took the other. He heard the old man cry out, saw his face blanch whiter still as he gritted his teeth and closed his eyes against the agony.

Four feet to the door; three…two…

—inside, and dragging Dale through the puddle by the door to the relatively greater safety of the sofa. They could not raise him onto it, but Liz snagged one of the throw cushions and stuffed it under his head.

Alec stood and faced the door.

And decided.

The pain was still there: the fire that flooded his mind every time he thought of betraying Eva. But it had lessened slightly, though he did not know why. Perhaps the recent stress had driven it deeper into his mind. Perhaps there was another reason he could not know. Probably she had some idea what was going on, so maybe she was distracted.

But for whatever reason, he had to do something—now, while he could. It was him and Liz; everyone else had fallen. And it was all his fault. There was only one slim chance, and it depended on more
ifs
than he could imagine.

But did he really have any choice?

“Stay here,” he told Liz flatly. “There’s one possible thing I can do. If not…I just don’t know.”

“What—?”

He reached out and laid a strangely calm hand on her shoulder. “Just trust me, girl. And if it doesn’t work, I’m sorry.”

She started to rise, but he was already gone.

Out the door, onto the ruined porch once more. A glimpse at the uktena, lit now by a veritable wall of lightning flashes. It was writhing more wildly than ever, but the glow from the head was getting closer. Alec strained his eyes, seeking the arrow that had impaled his friend. Where was it? There? No, that was a splinter of siding caught between two scales. But,
there
it was. His heart skipped a beat: it was in one of the spots. He counted, and his heart skipped again. The captain’s aim had been true: it had found the seventh spot. Still, maybe there was hope, for the arrow had struck right at the edge. Maybe that would make a difference; maybe David would not die.

The Volvo was where he had left it, wedged between the house and a scaly coil that had slid into it and warped the whole front end out of shape. Its roof was on a level with the porch floor. He had to get in, though; had to. A piece of banister had torn loose and was flopping dangerously against the wall, bristling with rusty nails. He grabbed it, wrenched it free—and slammed it into the car’s windshield. The first blow bounced off; the second starred the safety glass; with the third it shattered. Alec leapt down onto the hood, promptly slipped on the wet metal, and had to grab the wipers to right himself. Metal cut his hand. He swore, but dragged himself up, using the scrap of wood to clear a larger hole in the windshield. He crawled inside, dodging shifter and steering wheel. Only one chance now, if he was right, and he had to be. Not in the front seat though, maybe the back. He slid into the passenger bucket, twisted around, scoured the rear footwell—and found David’s backpack and his own. He grabbed them, dragged them out, hauled them behind him onto the hood, and flung them on the porch.

Light flooded over him, and he realized the uktena had brought its head around. He was vaguely aware of the Riders still there, but circling much further out. The chanting had stopped some time ago, but the rain had not abated.

Leaning against the front wall of the house, he frantically unzipped David’s pack and rifled through it. Blessedly the canteen was still there. He shook it to be sure it was not empty and heard a gratifying slosh.

His own pack, next, and thank God he had yielded to caprice and stashed the ulunsuti there. He shook out the jar, emptied it, and stuffed the bag in his pocket.

“Wish me luck, Liz,” he called to the open window, and leapt onto the uktena. A quick roll through mud, and he was past it and standing, though the rain almost knocked him flat again and he had to dodge a segment of scaled body that twitched toward him.

Where was the head? Light answered him: a whiteness flickering across the trees. Behind him the Sidhe drew nearer. He didn’t care.

A moment only it took him to unscrew the canteen, another to free the jewel. The instant it touched his flesh it took fire, blazing so brightly he had to close his eyes, though that made little difference. Power was awake there—Power he had not expected. But he had cut himself when he’d climbed into the car, and the blood must be feeding the jewel. What had Uki said? Blood to work the great magics. But what to do with them? he wondered.

Gritting his teeth, he raised the stone above his head and opened his eyes. The glow was dazzling, brighter than full day.

—and was evidently doing what he needed it to, because the head was coming toward him. Recklessly he splashed water from the canteen along the glistening scales, saw the serpent’s flesh shimmer and contract, continuing along the length, but not fast enough, not nearly fast enough to save him.

For the head was leering down at him, closer, closer…. He had a horrible moment of déjà vu, as he saw the light of the living ulunsuti merge with the light of his own. Teeth and jaws and flaming eyes filled the world as the uktena stretched its maw to the limit—and paused.

For an instant the monstrous eyes calmed, looked, in spite of the glare, in spite of the rain, in spite of the veil of fingers Alec had raised to protect his sanity, like David’s. Then madness roared into them once more, and the head arched down.

I’m going to die.

But the teeth did not sink into him, though the heat of the serpent’s breath fell on him and made him gag.

“Alec,” a woman’s voice shouted to his left. “The mouth! Throw it in the mouth!”

“What?” Alec had time to call, and then black-gloved hands had jerked the canteen from his fingers and hurled it into the gaping jaws. He glanced around, just as lightning limned a figure standing beside him—a familiar one. Guardsman, unmistakably, by the cloak and helm. But…

Then there was no more time, because the mouth had closed on the canteen and was rising high as the surviving cedars. It remained there for a moment, bright against the clouds, then convulsed and slammed heavily to earth—directly atop the guard.

The change began suddenly and took only seconds to effect. The uktena shuddered, then shrank and paled. It was impossible to describe, almost impossible to see through the driving rain, and perhaps that was fortunate. One moment there were uncontrollable masses of coiling monster; the next a human boy lying face down, naked, and unconscious across the legs of a slender Faery warrior. Between them was a lump of pierced and twisted metal that might once have been a canteen.

Alec realized dimly that the pain in his head was gone.

Lightning flashed once more, and he became aware of Faery warriors regrouping and nudging their mounts cautiously forward. He reached out toward David, but a voice stopped him.

“Alec…” The woman’s voice again, faint but clear—and somehow familiar.

He paused, his hand already on David’s shoulder, and looked around at the injured Faery.

“Alec?”

Could it be? A mad scramble that way, as priorities warred within him.

“Alec?”

The full lips inside the black helm moved. Scarcely daring to breathe, Alec eased it up and set it aside. And looked on the face of Eva.

“Aife,” the captain said behind him. “She was the newest among us.”

“Eva…why?” Alec sobbed, his eyes burning with tears.

Her eyes slitted open, sick with pain. “At first because I loved Ailill and hated those who brought his doom,” she whispered. “But now because, in spite of myself, I find I love you more, and that love is a far finer thing than hate.”

“Eva…”

A finger to his lips. “At first you were a weapon, my Alec, to be used, then set aside. And when I saw you again in the chariot you were still no more than a thing. Even on the porch you were little more than an obstacle and a threat. But here, face-to-face, risking all for the life of your friend, I suddenly knew you were the one I love. You would have done for your brother what I could not do for Ailill, though in trying I have betrayed you and also my land and king. My soul and my body must sunder.”

“And will pay the price when they reunite,” the captain said, as Aife’s eyes glazed over. “We will be waiting for your return.” He passed a hand over her lids, then frowned and removed a coil of gold from behind her ear.

“I have heard of these things,” he said. “Some at Finvarra’s court use them. They make clear the words of others, but likewise hide one’s own thoughts. No wonder we could not unmask the traitor.”

A whimper made Alec turn. Liz had come into the yard, so quietly he could not hear her. Wordlessly she sank down in the mud beside David’s filthy form. The rain slackened as she tried to lift his head, but her own green eyes were streaming.

“I am sorry,” the Faery captain told her. “But I have done enough harm for one day, perhaps I can aid his healing.” He knelt and reached toward David’s back where a splinter of arrow still protruded from beneath the left shoulder blade, then grasped it, set his teeth, and yanked.

David shuddered and moaned softly, but the wound was already closing. Alec and Liz turned him over, stared at his face. The Faery flung a cloak over his shivering body.

“David,” Alec said woodenly. “Not you too.”

The rain had stopped.

David’s face was still.

“Alec, do something,” Liz groaned.

“I can’t, girl, I
can’t
.”
His voice was thick with misery.

“His body lives,” said the Faery. “But his
self
seems to be far away.”

Liz buried her face against Alec’s shoulder.

Alec put his arm around her and bowed his head. It was too much. He couldn’t stand it anymore. He had tried and failed. And so close to success.

“You’ve been gone as far,” a male voice drawled quietly. “You made it back; so can he.”

Alec glanced around and saw Calvin.

Chapter XXVII: Turned Stones

The Indian had been standing on the edge of the porch when he spoke, but already he had leapt down the ruined steps and was sprinting across the yard.

Alec rose and faced him, frowning. “What do you
mean
? And for that matter, what the hell were you trying to do, zapping off like that in the middle of a crisis?”

“I didn’t think I had a choice,” Calvin replied. “And I didn’t have time to argue. Things were gettin’ out of control real fast, and I knew there wasn’t a thing to do on this end. So I did the only thing I could: I went to see Uki. I wanted to bring him here, but he wouldn’t come—or couldn’t.” He crossed and knelt beside David. “He’s got one of those crystals like he gave you, though: and he’s been watching what’s goin’ on through it—not that he didn’t already have an idea something was up, since the whole sky over there was goin’ crazy when I arrived—apparently this mess was reflected even in Galunlati. Anyway, when he saw David change back, he sent me off to—”