Demons of the Dancing Gods (5 page)

through the second day out from the border crossing, the main

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road diverged into three branches, one heading west, one south,

and one southeast. Joe looked at Marge quizzically. "Which

one?"

She didn't hesitate. "None of them. We go due east now.

That way." She pointed.

He looked in the indicated direction and could make out a

not-very-wom dirt path that went out over the meadows and

toward a wild forested area far to the east. "You sure?"

She nodded. "Forget the maps and road markers now. I

can—well, I can feel it. It's kind of like a—magnet, is the

best way I can say it."

He shrugged, and they set off on the primitive path.

And yet it wasn't so much a magnet as a presence, she

decided. There was something there, something warm and alive,

something that she could feel with every step now. It was an

odd, indescribable feeling, and she could only hope that Joe

would trust her.

Joe really had no choice. He let her take the lead, although

the path was still clear enough to follow, and just relaxed.

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They camped well into the forest that night. It was a pretty

peaceful place, but he didn't want to take any chances; he

suggested they alternate sleeping, with Marge going first. She

tried it, but soon was back by the small fire.

"Trouble?"

She shrugged. "I don't know. We're very close now, Joe.

We'll reach it easily tomorrow with^time to spare."

"Cold feet, huh?"

"Something like that. I mean, I don't know what to say,

what to do. I really don't know what's going to happen to me—

what I'm really turning into, if that makes any sense."

He nodded sympathetically. "Yeah, I think I know. It's been

pretty rough on you here."

"Oh, no, not really. Remember, I was a total washout back

home. I was on my way to kill myself when I ran into you,

you know. No, it's the other side. I've been happy here. For

the first time in my life since I was a kid, I've been happy. I

really like this place. And now, somehow, I'm afraid again.

This—whatever it is—is forever. What if I don't like it? Or

what if they don't accept me? What if I change into somebody

you and all my other friends don't like or can't relate to? It

seems that every time I have something right, it goes wrong."

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He squeezed her hand tightly. "Don't worry so much. You'll

have a real home here, with people you can call your own.

None of the people of faerie I've met are any kind of holy

terrors if you just treat 'em as people. Besides, Ruddygore said

we were gonna be a super team, and he wouldn't say that if

we couldn't stand each other, right?"

She smiled and kissed him lightly. "You're right, I guess.

But I can't help worrying."

She was able to go to sleep after that, but she started him

thinking in odd directions, some of which he didn't like. He

wished for one thing that he were as confident of this changeling

thing as he made out. He really cared for her, and that made

her special in more than one way. He also valued her because

she was his only link back to Earth, to the world in which both

of them had been born and raised. Oh, sure, Ruddygore went

back and forth all the time, but he was still a man of this world,

not of the other, and he was hardly around all the time. Joe

needed Marge, he knew—she was the one link he had to all

that had been his world. He couldn't help but fear that she

would have no such need of him—not after this.

No matter how he sliced it, after tomorrow she would be at

least as much of this world as of their native land, and she

would have roots, family, tribe, grounding. Not he. Even here

he was the outcast, the outsider, the barbarian from a far-off

land that didn't really exist.

The Kauri would be her new roots, her anchor, he knew—

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but she was the only family he'd ever have here. He wasn't

like her. He'd never read all those books, dreamed those fancy

romantic dreams, the way she had. He hadn't wanted to be

here and had never felt at home here.

He wondered what all those trainees who watched him knock

their arrows from the air and all those people who cleared the

streets for him would say if they knew that this big, hulking

brute of a muscleman was scared to death.

CHAPTER 4

BECOMING AN ELEMENTAL SUBJECT

Faerie seats of power may not be invaded by mortals without

permission without exacting severe penalties.

—Rules, XIX, 106(c)

THEY REACHED THE BIRD'S BREATH, LITTLE MORE THAN A

creek at this point, about midday. The air was hot and thick

and insects buzzed around them in constant frenzy, setting up

a cacophony of buzzing sounds. Marge halted and turned to

Joe.

"This is where we split up," she said a bit nervously. "Make

camp somewhere along here and wait for me." She turned back

and pointed to a dark grove of trees beyond the small river.

"That is the start of Mohr Jerahl."

He stared at it, but could tell no difference between the

forest they'd been traveling through and the one on the other

side. Still, he knew, there was little to distinguish the Glen

Dinig from the surrounding countryside, either, and it was

certainly a real and, for him. deadly place. "I still think I should

go with you, at least as far as I can," he argued. "You don't

know what's there, really."

"No. Absolutely not. First of all, you remember Ruddygore's

warning. That's magic over there, Joe—a place of enchantment."

"If you remember, Irving and I have done pretty good against

enchanted places and things. As for Ruddygore—he's not my

father, whom I never listened to, anyway. I paid my dues to

the fat man; he don't own me any more—just rents me for a

bit."

She grew alarmed at his stubbornness, remembering Hus-

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peth's very dark scenario. As best she could, she tried to explain

the position to him. It was possibly true that Joe could survive,

even triumph, but not without dire cost to her. "For my sake,

Joe, stay here. Promise me. Give me your solemn word."

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He sensed her genuine concern and, although he put up

something of a front, he knew from that point on that he'd lost

the argument. He glanced around. "Okay. Two days from right

now—then I'm coming in looking for you."

"Two days! Joe, I don't know how long this is going to

take! It could be going just right and then you'll come in and

screw it all up!"

"Thanks for the confidence," he grumbled, "but two days

is it."

She thought a moment. "How about this, then? If I'm delayed

for any reason, I'll send a message somehow. One that

could only come from me. Fair enough?"

He considered it. "Maybe. But remember, we've got a hard

way to go to that wizard's convention yet. We'll see. That's

the best I'll do for now."

And, in fact, it was the most she could get out of him, and

she decided it would have to do. She realized that his attitude

was entirely based on his concern for her safety, and that made

it really impossible to go further. She got down from her horse

and turned toward Mohr Jerahl.

"You gonna walk?" he called out, surprised.

She nodded. "I think it's best. I know it is, somehow."

"No weapons or food or stuff?"

"No, Joe. This one I walk into clean. You take care of

yourself. You're going to be a sitting duck out here for a couple

of days, and this kind of place holds who knows what kind of

dangers."

"I can take care of myself," he assured her. "Just make sure

you can."

She blew him a kiss. "I think I'll be pretty safe once I get

across the creek." With that, she walked down to the riverbank

and into the water. It wasn't very deep; even at the center, it

did not come up beyond her waist, and the current was weak

and lazy. She had no trouble making the other side. Emerging,

she turned and saw him, still there atop his horse, staring after

her. She waved at him, then turned and disappeared into the

forest. •

JACK L. CHALKER 27

* * *

That feeling that she'd had since they diverged from the

road less than two days earlier was tremendous now. She'd

felt its overpowering influence from the first time she'd looked

at the place across the river, but now she was in it and the

feeling was all around her. For the first time she sensed, at

least, what the nature of that strange sensation was.

It was raw power.

Mohr Jerahl was in some ways an analog to the Glen Dinig;

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it was a place of enormous magical power, power that could

be seen, touched, felt. But while Huspeth's small realm was

under tight and absolute control, Mohr Jerahl was not. The

term "raw power" was literally correct—this was no tame and

obedient magic, neatly tied into complex spells, but a force of

supemature, an unbridled power that just was. It was incredibly

strong, yet it had a single defined center, a locus, that she

instinctively headed for. There, at that central radiation point,

would be Kauri. There she would meet what she must become.

It seemed to take forever to get anywhere in the forest, and

the sun was passing out of sight and influence by the time she

was sure of any real progress, yet she felt neither hunger nor

thirst, nor did she feel the least bit tired. The tremendous

magical radiation went through her, tickling and even slightly

burning not only her skin but inside as well, yet she knew it

could not harm her. How she knew this, she wasn't sure, but

it was a certainty that she was feeding off the radiation, drawing

strength and whatever else she needed from it.

Darkness fell, in a land where the trees were so thick they

would block the sun in daylight, yet she had no problem with

that darkness. In fact, fed by the radiation she could now see

as a bright, bluish glow that illuminated everything and bathed

it in its eerie light, she saw every object distinctly and without

shadow. In many ways it was a clearer vision than normal

sight, although a more colorless one.

She knew that, somehow, she'd been delayed until darkness

fell, that the magic was strongest then, and that the Kauri, as

was the case with a majority of the fairy races, were more in

their element.

She heard all sorts of stirrings in the trees; once or twice,

she thought she caught girlish laughter from above and sensed

the sudden shift of mysterious bodies, but they kept too far

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JACK L. CHALKER

29

away for her to tell who or what was making the sounds. She

was beginning to regret leaving her bronze dagger and bow

back at the river, though.

And then, with a suddenness that startled her, she broke

through the trees and saw the locus of Kauri power.

The clearing was enormous, composed entirely of some gray

lava base that seemed permanently rippled, as if built of a

frozen river rather than a hard-rock base. It rose slightly for

perhaps a half mile, forming a cone-shaped structure, and at

its center was a perfectly circular opening through which bubbling,

roaring sounds and heavy, sulfurous smoke billowed

upward. The crater was not only the source of the radiation

but also a source of tremendous heat, and she knew that, somehow,

this was a perfect miniature volcano.

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Again she heard the girlish laughter, this time behind her,

and she whirled and faced five of the Kauri.

The thing that struck her first was that they were absolutely

identical; some fantastic, fairy quintuplets. Their basic form

was human; all were female and might be called by many

voluptuous. Their rounded, cute, sexy faces were marked with

large, sensuous lips and huge, playful brown eyes. Yet the

faces had a quality that could only be described as elfin, and

through short-cropped hair that was a steely blue-black color,

slightly more blue than black, protruded two cute, pointed elfin

ears.

They were under five feet tall, but not by more than an inch

or so. Their skins were a deep orange in color. Looking closer,

though, she could see some familiar yet quite nonhuman differences.

Their fingers were abnormally long and ended in

clawlike nails; their toes, too, were a bit longer and more

regular than human toes and ended in similar sharp, pointed,

animallike nails, pointing slightly downward. Between digits

on both hands and feet was the webbing that had first appeared

on Marge back in the mountain town of Kidim. But their most

distinctive feature was their wings, sinister and batlike, yet