The Way of the Black Beast (20 page)

Following the erratic drumbeat, the crowd split down the middle, backing away enough to reveal a metal frame built flush into the floor. The wood inside the frame shimmered with each note Willie played. The air smelled of sweat and lust and something Malja could not place. As the air crackled with little electric arcs, it hit her. The smell — a memory of Callib attempting to teach Malja magic. Not the sour smell of violent casting, but a crisp aroma unique to special magic.

The flag-like creatures flapped with vigor, always in time to Willie's playing. Holes opened up — mouths that stretched enough to swallow a person. They sang in harmony — loud enough to remind her of Barris Mont. An enormous explosion of sound blasted the room as if the air itself had been shattered. Malja fell to the floor, covering her ears, controlling her breathing, trying hard to stay conscious. People passed out around her. She pressed her ears tighter. She closed her eyes to stay focused.

Somebody tapped her shoulder. She looked up. All was still. Cole rested her slender hand on Malja's head and pointed to the frame in the floor.

The metal frame pulsed an orange glow that kept time with the slow moan that the musicians had settled into. Inside the frame, the floor no longer existed. Instead, Malja saw a room as if she hung from the ceiling. A round table covered in fuzzy green material dominated the room while dark wood shelves and darker rugs filled the rest. Malja thought they had blown a hole into the floor and looked upon some basement room. Except bright, noonday sunlight cut across the table.

"What is this?" she whispered.

"This," Cole said, savoring each word as it crossed her tongue, "is real magic. This is a hole into another world." Raising her arms like a prophet before her people, she climbed down the stairs and crossed the stage. "Long ago, perhaps not as long as you think, before the Devastation, magicians who knew the truth the governments denied them practiced in secret so that their power would grow and their ways would not die. They sought to improve their dominion over the world. Like little children playing with guns, they attempted to open a doorway into another world. They succeeded. Only for a second. Then they lost control, and we've all paid for that."

Malja gripped the banister. "What are you saying? This is the magic that caused the Devastation?"

Cole whispered, "Don't worry. We've not caused another Devastation."

"Well, what have you done?"

"Sympathetic vibrations. We create our own magic — just like them."

"Who?"

"Those from the other side. They came to us first, opened a portal right here. It only lasted a short while but it was enough to start talking with us. They call their magic a séance and they think of us as ghosts. Through them, we learned the Blues music and their way of life. We pattern ourselves after them for we have seen what great power exists — after all they opened a hole to our world without destroying theirs."

A portal into another world.
She had no idea if such a thing were possible or if this was a hoax. Gregor certainly never mentioned it.

From their ceiling view, everyone in the house craned to see into the portal. Malja watched as a woman wearing a pink dress walked in to the séance and set the green table. She moved faster than normal as if time itself moved differently on that world. The golden-pink hues of sunset cascaded across the floor and a few minutes later night arrived.

A commotion erupted behind her. Malja turned to find Fawbry being physically moved into the hall by Shotgun and another big fellow. Shotgun had looped a rope around Viper, and the weapon dangled at his side. Fawbry looked tired and frightened but not bruised or broken.

Cole stepped forward. "Malja, I've watched you grow for many years. I've waited for you to be ready, for you to be able to see this and understand it without fear causing you to ruin this incredible opportunity we have before us. The time has come. Watch closely now."

"Cole?" Fawbry said, his face lighting up even as Shotgun pushed him toward the glowing frame in the floor. "Cole, honey, it's me. It's Faw-Faw. Remember Faw-Faw?"

The crowd mocked him, and Cole spoke to them even as she offered Fawbry a solemn glance. "Those days are gone. The Bluesmen came to me so I could build them a way through. We want to do more than just talk to this other world. We want to travel there. We want to live there. Tonight, we may finally succeed."

Several people now sat at the séance table. They all held hands and one seemed to be chanting. Their jerky, rapid motions would have been comical under different circumstances.

A dark man in a fine, gray suit sat nearby. He strummed a guitar with a gentle hand. Malja looked around the stage at all the guitarists, all the suits — all learned from this other world. Impossible.

"This isn't real," Malja said. "If you had this portal, if you had this magic without a magician, you would've left the Freelands long ago. I don't believe this is anything more than a trick."

"My, my, it seems your pledge to me may not have been all that strong. I'll have to fix my machine. As for the portal — it is very real, and you'll now see our very real problem."

Shotgun moved Fawbry closer to the frame. "No, no, no. You don't have to do this to me."

"Watch, Malja. Watch what happens to Fawbry."

"Cole, my love, don't do this to me. Please."

"Love? You left me for a pack of griffles."

Malja said, "Stop this."

"Relax," Cole said. "We're not sending him through. But you need to see to understand."

"Let me go," Fawbry said, pulling back but not strong enough to stop them.

Malja wanted to rush in and save him, but her body had become numb again. She didn't know if she'd be fast enough or have enough control to help. Her thoughts swirled and her head throbbed.

While the one man held Fawbry tight, Shotgun grabbed his hand and edged him toward the floor. Blubbering, pleading, begging — Fawbry watched as they plunged his hand into the framed hole.

He howled — a ghastly, chilling cry that caused several in the crowd to flinch. Malja heard the hand sizzle and smelled burning flesh. When they pulled Fawbry back, only a cauterized stump remained. Gray wisps of smoke drifted up like paper-thin tendrils. Fawbry cradled his stump and rolled on the floor. Tears and spit and mucous covered his open-mouthed anguish, but he made no sound.

Though she tried to be cold and stoic, Cole winced at the few gasps escaping Fawbry. She took a breath, plastered on her faux smile, and said, "Now, Malja, it's time for you to understand just how special you are."

Two men took hold of Malja and pushed her toward the portal. Her head dipped and her body followed, but the men kept her upright. She yanked her arms back. The men held on.

Too numb.

Looking down, she saw the séance magic — silly and frightening at the same time. The men each grabbed one of her feet and the world flipped over. Vomit rushed up and out — burning into nothing as it hit the portal. When Malja finally regained her bearings, she was suspended over the portal frame.

She couldn't feel her arms and legs — she just floated like driftwood on a lake. She closed her eyes, enjoying the sensation. Until they dropped her.

Her body swung — both men clamped down on her legs — so that her head went in first. The shock to her skin jolted straight to her toes like ice cold water on burning hot skin. The sudden cold reignited her numbed senses, clearing her mind even as it tortured her body.

She screamed.

Opening her eyes, she saw those around the séance table staring at her — some amused, some terrified. They moved at a normal pace now. The walls were high like a prison but a tall window showed Malja another world — buildings pressed against each other as wheeled vehicles pulled by horses clip-clopped by. Streetlamps of flame lit the area. Two children smooshed their faces against the window, looking wide-eyed with her.

A woman dressed in veils and holding a heavy book rose from her seat. Those seated around the table paled and shivered, a few mouths quivering. The guitarist slipped out of the room, muttering a strange prayer not to the brother gods but to a deity Malja never heard of — Geezuz. The veiled woman raised one hand and said, "Oh, Spirit from the Afterworld, long we have tried to meet you, to see you as more than a voice. Oh, wondrous apparition, guide us, please. Show us the way to our greatest fortunes."

Something pulled at Malja's ankles. Before she could speak, her body receded into the ceiling. And she was back home.

The band launched into a lively tune, and Cole Watts gyrated and twirled to the music. The entire crowd roared its excitement. People toasted their success and guzzled their drinks. With the change in music, the portal spell collapsed — popping and clicking until nothing remained but an empty frame, the wood floor, and the strong aroma of vinegar. They shoved Fawbry on stage, and Cole danced around him. He held his stump and gazed in the distance like a slave enduring a master's punishment.

Malja felt the majority of her numbness had vanished. The congested atmosphere closed in on her but she didn't move. She suffered disorientation, and nausea crept up her throat. She waited for it to pass and wondered if after experiencing the portal, it ever would.

The song finished and Cole, perspiration beading on her skin, calmed the rowdy crowd. "I told you all the truth. I promised you that Malja would be the key, that she alone held the secret within her. Tonight she proved it. Tonight, our sweet Malja safely slipped into another world. Oh my, and will you look at her face. She has no idea. That's okay, dear, soon you very much will."

"Let Fawbry go."

"No, no. He's our insurance for your co-operation. Now that I've proved what you can do, I need to study you. I need to figure out the process, so I can build a machine to let all of us travel through. And when we have that, we can access all the wonders that the world has. We can be great powers of this world. Jarik and Callib will bow at our feet, and we shall destroy them. But don't worry. You're far too precious. We'll test the machine on Fawbry first."

No.

In seconds, the hall became a tumultuous cavern of violence. Two brutes had closed in on Malja, and she wasted no effort in dispatching them. Blows to the head. Blows to the gut. She fought through the crowd with one focus — save Fawbry.

Suzu blocked her path. She elbowed his chest, bending him over, locked his head in her arms, kicked back to ward off those trying to sneak up on her, and propelled Suzu like a siege engine tearing apart a tower wall. Three people were knocked aside.

"Malja, stop," Cole said. "You won't be harmed."

The fury state had taken over. Malja dodged, attacked, and surged ahead. A battle cry from the stage slashed through the commotion — Willie. He pulled a sword from the neck of his guitar and plodded towards her.

Watching Willie, Malja never saw the attacker on her left. Two punches to her stomach took her by surprise. She doubled over and saw Viper hanging on a rope — Shotgun. Instead of straightening up, Malja jabbed her elbows skyward. Though her right met only air, her left caught Shotgun with a satisfying crunch. Before he recovered, she tore Viper free and swung up to meet Willie's attack.

The blades clanged and a metal chip flipped through the air, flickering light in all directions. The sound echoed across the hall. The chaos ebbed as the crowd settled, backing up a respectful distance. Malja had experienced this before. The people wanted to watch a show. From the look in Willie's eyes and the strength of his attack, Malja suspected they would put on quite a show indeed.

Willie ignited a flurry of blows that Malja should have parried with ease — her spinning head and sudden exertions worked against her. Twice she locked his straight sword in the curve of her blade, but could not snap it loose from his hand. They circled, each feigning attacks to feel out the other's counters, waiting for the other to overreach. Malja knew a good fighter when she saw one. Willie took his time, searched with his eyes, moved with grace and agility. He displayed patience and balance. A good fighter — definitely. Perhaps even an excellent fighter.

Wrapped in her thoughts, she failed to notice he had taken smaller steps for the last few, closing their distance by her own doing. He jabbed forward. When she blocked, he used her power to spin in the opposite direction and land a blunt chop on her side. The hit shocked her. Before she could get over her mistake, he swung through, catching Viper and nearly disarming her. The momentum knocked her off balance and onto the floor. Willie's sword tip caressed her neck.

"Stop," Cole called out, her voice trembling.

Malja kept her eyes on Willie as she breathed deep, sweat drenching her face and hair.

"Malja? You okay?"

Fawbry?
Malja searched for where his voice had come from. Fawbry must have snuck off during the fight. At the same moment as Willie, she found Fawbry, his good hand leveling a handgun at Cole Watts.

"Malja?"

"I'm okay."

Willie helped her to her feet. The cut on her side looked worse than it felt and would hamper her until it healed.

Fawbry cleared his throat, and in his most powerful voice, he said, "Malja and I are leaving here. Nobody'll follow us. If anything happens, I'll kill Cole. When we feel safe, she'll be set free."