Demons of the Dancing Gods (7 page)

Jump! Go on! Jump!" It sounded like some ghoulish cheerleader

squad for a virgin sacrificial ceremony and—uh-oh. She'd

forgotten that she was biologically virgin now. Virgin plus

volcano equals sacrifice...

"Jump in, jump in! Rah! Rah! Rah!"

She just stood there, petrified with fright, knowing she could

not move a step in any direction, not even to run.

"Oh, the hell with it. This is getting boring," one of the

Kauri next to her muttered. The next thing Marge knew, she

felt a violent shove and she was falling, falling right into the

boiling, bubbling magma...

There was a shock as she hit the red, bubbling mass that

might have a temperature of perhaps two thousand degrees,

and an all-encompassing but very brief pain, much like that

which an electric shock would give.

And then she was floating, swimming, flying, suspended

in the mass but no longer sensitive to it. There was no up, no

down, no east, west, north, or south. There was, however, a

presence. It was in there with her, all around her and coursing

not only through the molten magma but right through her as

well. She did not know what it was, but it was undeniably the

locus, the source of the magic.

"Be at peace," came a powerful, all embracing, motherly

voice in her head. She realized that no words had been spoken,

since none could be, under these conditions; but the voice was

so commanding, so authoritative, yet so friendly and reassuring

that it could not be denied.

It was her long-dead mother's voice.

"Mother?" her mind shot out, trying to reach it.

"I am indeed the mother of the Kauri, of which you are

almost one," the voice responded.

"Who? What... ?"

"You are troubled, child. The Kauri are not troubled, for

were one to be troubled, the race would be troubled. To be

troubled is for threats to person or the race, not otherwise.

Mohr Jerahl is a place of peace, of art and dance and fun. The

Kauri are the creatures of Mohr Jerahl, and so they must reflect

its nature. Come to me in the fire, as all those who venture

outside our homeland must, and let me ease your trouble. Relax

and think not; come unto me and give me your mind."

The creature, whatever it was, hesitated a moment, as if

waiting for her, but she did not, could not, yield to it.

"You hesitate. You close your mind to me. Why?"

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"I—I'm afraid," she admitted. "A change in form is one

thing, but I don't want to be not me any longer!"

"But you will always be you and no other," the voice of

her mother soothed. "You come from the world of the Creator.

He alone fashioned your soul and its nature, and He alone can

refashion it. But the shape of that soul is Kauri, deep down.

Your sorcerer knew this when he directed your destiny so."

"But the Kauri are of this world, not mine!" she protested.

"How can I have a Kauri soul?"

"Child, the soul is insubstantial, mystical. It exists on the

magical plane and on no other. The fairies—all of faerie—

are souls bared, souls distilled, unencumbered by human form

and fears, for they exist only in the world of supemature. They

exist on the plane of pre-creation, before the universes were

formed, at the level of elemental, basic magic. Humanity was

made by imposing natural law on the soul; natural form, pain,

toil, suffering, mortality—these came later, when the Rebels

caused the violation of Eden's perfection. All that is now taken

from you. All that was mortal and natural in you was borne

away when you entered here. The nature of the soul determines

the nature of the person.

"The fairies exist in all humankind and are hot bound by

any world or its rules, only by those rules imposed upon the

race by the Creator. We were the models and the overseers in

the grand design. Humans who go against their own natures—

as many do for a variety of reasons, not all under their control—

suffer all the more for it. For, you see, that is the true curse

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DEMONS OF THE DANCING GODS

laid upon man after Eden—that he will turn his back on supernature

and will fight his own soul. In such a way do misery,

unhappiness, and evil breed."

She was startled by this information and its implications.

"What you are saying, then, is that we are all changelings."

"Yes, all. But when death comes to the mortal and frees

the soul, and that soul is purged of its sin, it lives apart from

us, within the Sea of Dreams, in a world that is wholly supernatural.

Fairies, being of the world, do not have an afterlife.

The price is paid—we may achieve the true balance of our

natures only by remaining alive until the end of all time, when

Creation shall be undone. That is Our curse for being lax and

allowing the chief Rebel to slip unnoticed into Eden. That is

the curse you now share, a fair exchange for shedding your

mortality. But a cleansing is needed to make you truly of faerie

and allow your full supemature to come out. To do that, you

must surrender to me."

Marge understood now the logic of it all, understood the

nature of the fairies and the soul as few had understood before

her, yet she could not bring herself to yield. Most of her wanted

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what was offered, but there was still that comer of her that

was afraid, that feared tampering with her mind as this world

had tampered with her body.

"Or, to put it another way," the goddess of the volcano

added, "if you don't yield to me, you'll swim around in this

hot muck, frying your little buns off for all eternity." For

emphasis, the pain began, and slowly increased.

A Kauri goddess might be somewhat intellectual, but she

was the mold of the race and not much more patient than her

children. The vision, the sensation, of the classical Hell of

Marge's Christian upbringing was a really persuasive argument.

As the pain continued to rise, she could stand it no longer.

"All right! Take me!" her mind screamed.

The pain ceased, and the entity, whatever it was, assumed

complete control. Marge was aware and fully conscious, yet

not in control of even her own thoughts. Her memory was

triggered and read out in reverse order, every moment of her

past flowing from her and into the creature. Her mind was

incapable of digesting the minutiae that were stored in her own

brain, and she tended to seize upon and partially relive only

brief scenes of major events.

She was outside the volcano. She was walking through the

forest. She was leaving Joe. She was at the entry station, now

back at Terindell, then in the Glen Dinig. In fits and starts aad

in a sort of backward review, she relived the great battle, the

Land of the Djinn, the fight for the Lamp, and the battle at the

pass. Backward, ever backward.

She crossed the Sea of Dreams once more and found herself

totally shorn of hope, direction, or self-interest, walking along

a lonely west Texas road.

His face was a furious red with anger, hatred, and frustration,

and he was beating her repeatedly, all the while shouting,

"What the hell good are you? Can't even make a damned kid

in this Godforsaken hellhole!"

"I, Marge, take thee, Roger..."

"I'm sorry, but less kids means less teachers and lower

budgets. You know how it is. Now if you'd been in math or

science..."

She stood on the steps outside the administration building,

still in cap and gown, holding the diploma up to the bright,

blue Texas sky. "See, Momma? I did it!"

"Mommy! Guess what! Tommy Woodard asked me to the

promt Tommy Woodard!"

It was blood! She was bleeding from there\ Oh, God!

"Mommy!"

"There, there! It's just a skinned knee. Mommy'II put a little

stuff on it and lass it and make it all better ..."

She didn't like playing hide-and-seek when there were boys

playing. They always cheated or ganged up on the girls.

"Eight... nine... ten! Ready or not, here I come!" She could

hear the squeals of laughter and see just a comer of somebody's

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foot behind the bush. She ran for the hider, who, suddenly

knowing she'd been spotted, broke from her hiding place and

started heading for the tree base. Marge felt a thrill and whirled,

trying to beat Mary Frances to the...

Sufficient, a voice said from somewhere. Freeze.

Quickly, methodically, she began to come back toward the

present. All of the events were there, all the traumas, all the

heartbreak, but it wasn't quite the same as it had been. It was

real, it was hers, it was even totally comprehensible, but somehow

it just didn't matter so much any more. The dark times

that had formed her were there, all right, but the good times,

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JACK L. CHALKER

39

the happy times, the fun times stood out. She could reach out

and touch any of those dark spots at any time, but, left alone,

it was the good times, the fun times, the innocent times that

seemed somehow forward, filling in the empty spaces.

The goddess of the Kauri had in fact been truthful, honest,

and correct. Marge understood now, understood the nature of

the Kauri and the reason for it. She had recaptured it, with the

goddess' help—that essence of childhood that adults could

fondly and wistfully remember but never really reexperience,

except vicariously through watching their own children. She

realized, with a tremendous surge of excitement, that she had

indeed buried the horrors of her past, even though she was still

and would always be shaped by them. She was new, reborn,

free...

Free!

She burst out of the top of the volcano and flew up, up into

the night, with a feeling of incredible energy and joy. She

spread out her arms and let her wings catch the air currents

she could easily see. Not even thinking about what she was

doing, or how,-she did whirls and flips and laughed and giggled

at everything like a drunken flyer on a real tear. The world

looked subtly different, and very, very beautiful, with every

single object, every single substance, in clear focus as far as

she could see; yet, unlike her earlier experience, it was also a

riot of colors. She began to shift through all the levels she

could see, and the world changed dramatically each time.

The colors, the rainbow of colors—why, the whole world

was magic! She saw below, above, all around, the world of

faerie, and it was more beautiful than she could have ever

dreamed.

And now others were joining her, playing, looping around

in the air. She knew them without having to think at all; her

sisters, the Kauri, each radiating a subtly different magical

pattern and emotional register. They greeted her, welcomed

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her, by drawing from her the tremendous feelings she was

having, and they played, chased, showed off, and generally

had a really good time themselves.

They soared together beneath the stars, protected in the glow

of the Earth Mother's radiant embrace, skimming the treetops,

then rising upward, ever upward, until the whole magical land

was spread out before and beneath them. With no cares, no

worries, they soared like superchildren, everything new, everything

a wonder.

She saw the treasures of the Kauri and plucked a beautiful,

gem-encrusted tiara out of the pile and crowned herself queen

of the air; others scrambled for even grander headwear and

challenged her reign, laughing and giggling all the while, flittering

about and snatching crowns, tiaras, and all sorts of other

regal stuff from one another. There were forty or fifty queens

crowned that night, all self-anointed—and the same number

dethroned by playful, giggling subjects with ambitions of their

own.

There were toys and games and maddening puzzles, and all

sorts of fun things. And never once was there hatred, malice,

anger, or fear.

They plucked ripe fruits from trees and bushes and ate them,

often throwing them at one another, and walked on the waters

of a deep volcanic lake without sinking in. And they were all

queens of this mystical, magical, happy place.

When the sun came up, turning the land a new set of colors,

they went to the trees, high up and far beyond any grounddwelling

things, and settled into happy, dreaming sleep. For

Marge, it was a sleep filled with the happy experiences of

childhood and the best and deepest sleep she had had in many

long years.

The next night was more of the same. There was total

acceptance of her by the native Kauri; like her, they could see

and feel inside one another, and she was one with them. This

time they ranged far, almost to the Firehills, great ridges in