Elvendude (30 page)

Adam had no problem with that, he thought, before motion from one of the creatures distracted him. "Perhaps we are about to find out," he said. The apparent leader approached them cautiously while the others looked on. Their arrows remained aimed and ready.

The gargoyle barked a series of unintelligible words in a language Adam had only a fleeting familiarity with. It sounded like well-formed grunts, hard hissing of consonants, followed by the snapping of teeth—or whatever incisors gargoyles had. Marbann replied in kind, to the surprise of Adam; he had no idea his mentor spoke fluent Gargoyle.

Marbann and the leader exchanged a few, harsh words, when finally he turned and shrugged.

"They don't believe me," he said. "But they would like to escort us back to the palace. We were in no position to bargain," Marbann said. "We stand no chance against arrows, and so many creatures."

But what about other protections?
Adam thought. Discussion didn't seem to be restricted, and Adam ventured a few whispered words to Marbann. "Shields, Marbann," Adam hissed. "If I . . ."

Marbann snorted in annoyance. "Are you certain you can have one in place, to protect all of us, in the split second it takes to let an arrow fly?"

Surrounded as we are, the shield would need to materialize instantly and perfectly.
He remembered the misshapen shield he'd constructed in their garage and how pathetic a construction it actually was.

"I might try myself," Marbann offered. "But I have doubts. I'm not willing to risk our lives on that chance."

Reluctantly, the King admitted this wasn't such a great plan. Another gargoyle grunted at Adam and motioned for him to follow. The leader advanced ahead of them several paces, as the other gargoyles flanked them on either side.

"What did you
tell
them?" They were several paces from the nearest gargoyle, and going by their lack of reaction he doubted his words had reached their ears.

"I thought they might be working for Zeldan, and I was right. I claimed the Unseleighe lord sent us to seize some of the treasure in the palace."

Moments passed. "And?" Adam asked. "Did they believe you?"

"Well, we
look
Unseleighe. They will take us to the other Unseleighe already there to verify what I told him."

Adam stifled a groan.
They'll know for certain we're bogus,
he thought.
Or maybe not.
At any rate, there was little they could do to improve their situation, except to wait for an opportunity to act.

Presently, the palace, or rather what was left of it, loomed into view. Adam's heart sank when he saw the ruins, but he concealed his expression as much as possible. Large sections of the turrets and the outer walls had come down, apparently the result of well-placed levin bolts. This was the first time he had seen the palace remains, except for the vision in his dream; even the ruined bridge remained in place, as he envisioned, complete with vine coverage. He looked nervously in the sky for the black eagle which had attacked him in the vision, though he doubted such a creature truly existed. It was more a symbol of Zeldan's power, he had thought, than an actual beast. And Zeldan was Above now, in the human's realm.

He reached cautiously for the nodes of his homeland, but Marbann's warning look made him reconsider.

"Trying to reach the Underhill nodes would only alert the enemy," he whispered. "I doubt, even with our combined power, we would be able to wrest anything from them."

"But . . ."

"But nothing," Marbann said. "Until we know what's going on, it would be best to keep secret our abilities."

"Aie," Adam replied. "They may yet buy our story."

Marbann's stony silence suggested he didn't think this too likely. Then, his mentor asked, "What about the Marketplace nodes?"

The King felt the vague power just beyond the periphery of his mental sight and knew that it was still within reach. Adam nodded.

"Keep the power in sight," Marbann advised. "If the Unseleighe attack us with node power, unleash it. Right now we must convince them of our false identities."

When they reached the edge of the ruins, the gargoyles led them into a makeshift cavern; this had been an opening leading into the lower levels of the palace. The opening had been widened and improved over time, but it was still a grim example of how little the conquerors had tried to fix what they had destroyed. The wooden arch that framed the entrance was old and well seasoned, indicating a great deal of time had passed since the palace fell. That the Unseleighe spent so little effort to rebuild or improve the place sickened Adam as much as the loss of his home.

The gargoyles dismounted and gestured, using their arrows as pointers, for Adam and his party to follow.

"No Unseleighe yet," Marbann whispered. "Perhaps, beneath the ruins, we might have a better chance against this group."

True. Bows and arrows were not practical in close quarters, and Marbann's plan had merit, if no others awaited them below.

The gargoyles led them into a darkened chamber and barked a command to Marbann.

"We are to wait here," Marbann said. "However, young King, you will notice that their guard is down at the moment. Now may be our only—"

Before Marbann completed the sentence, the world turned silver.

Moments before, Adam felt a surge of power rising beneath them. The release of energy happened so quickly that time froze, and he was himself momentarily paralyzed. He knew this was a new threat, from an unknown source, but he found himself powerless to do anything about it.

"
Marbann, what the—
" Adam began, but the shield, or whatever had become their prison, snapped into place around them, sealing them in, like being trapped inside a Tupperware container.

Mute, they stared at their cage: a reflective, silvery surface. Adam touched it, saw his finger extend to the first knuckle in the mercurylike surface. Then he touched hardness, like cool concrete.

"Perhaps we might dig under it," Marbann said, getting down on his knees. He scooped several handfuls away, but soon they found that the silver walls encasing them curved down, probably completing the form of a sphere.

"We might keep digging," Marbann said, "but I suspect we're trapped beneath by whatever field this is." He stood, regarding the surface in puzzlement. Though Adam saw no obvious light source, the field glowed enough to provide dim illumination.

"Will it permit us to breathe?" Niamh asked, but no one had an answer for him.

Adam sat down on the floor, trying to think, while Marbann proceeded to inspect the interior of the shell to no apparent effect. He felt completely useless, not only because he was unable to help himself, but also because he had failed his clan.

"This barrier has completely cut off our power," Marbann said. "Can you sense any node energy?"

The shell proved a major barrier, but beyond it he did detect the vague impression of the Gate and the nodes supporting it. "It's there, but I can't quite reach it. This shell, it's like a signal scrambler." They all stared at him. "Never mind. That would take too long to explain."

Niamh stepped forward, addressing the group. "Perhaps if we combined our powers . . ."

"And focused, say, on a single spot," Adam continued for him. Then he turned to his mentor. "Would it work?"

"We must try," Marbann said. "First, let's form a circle. . . ."

Daryl stood against the fender of his 'Vette, smoking a cigarette, wondering if there was some way to kill a demon.

"Isn't it beautiful?" Mort said, and with a majestic sweep of his black arm, he presented Lake Tawekoni. The gesture reminded him of the sexy models on
The Price is Right
; but instead of a new car or a European vacation, the demon stood beside the largest lake that supplied drinking water to the city of Dallas, Texas.

"It's a lake," Daryl said, tempering his anger with nicotine. The cigarette burned harshly down his throat, as it was the tenth one that day. That afternoon, after "work" at the New You, Daryl imbibed some Dream, forgetting to offer his prayer to the gods that Mort would not show up. Halfway into the second rock, Mort
popped
into place in the driver's seat. To say that the demon suggested the trip to the lake was an understatement; when Daryl resisted, his 'Vette assumed a life of its own. A force beyond him, apparently under the direct control of Mort, took over the driving for him, cruising down Highway 80 at an even 54 miles per hour. Daryl had folded his arms, fuming, as his pride and joy committed treason by going somewhere
he
didn't want to go. This had never happened before. But then, this had not been an ordinary month.

Mort frowned, a strangely comic expression on his exaggerated features. For reasons Daryl hadn't figured, Mort had grown two short horns, which made him look like Satan.
No, not Satan. Satan's annoying nephew.

"It's not just
a
lake, shithead," Mort hissed. "It's gonna be the lake you're responsible for baiting with Dream. Other lakes, too, but you won't have to worry about them. We've already got them covered." He surveyed the vast expanse of water from the graveled area the 'Vette had decided to pull off on. "Hmmm. I wonder what the fish will look like afterward."

Daryl only half listened. The Dream had become a Nightmare, and he wished it would just wear off. He considered scoring a bag of pot to numb himself into oblivion, something besides Dream, but every time he'd pursued such a venture he always wound up firing up a Dream rock. The task dissolved into nothingness and apathy, much like his life was doing, bit by psychotic bit.

Earlier that day he saw his little brother, Justin, riding with a truckload of football jocks, guzzling Bud and making fools of themselves. He didn't know if Justin had seen him; but seeing his brother partying like that left Daryl feeling confused. First he was relieved to see him playing the party game. It was a rite of passage, of sorts.

But his choice of company really sucked.
Why did he choose those jerks?
he'd thought.
Why doesn't he want to get stoned with me?
Seeing his brother out like that had dug deeply at his pride and occupied most of his thinking for about an hour. Then Mort had shown up.

"You should be honored, you know," Mort said petulantly. "More Dream will be assigned to this lake than any others. Which only makes sense, of course."

"I'm not honored," Daryl said hollowly. "Why do you want to spike the water supply, anyway?" Daryl wanted to know. The whole plan had never made any sense.

"For grins," Mort said, walking over to Daryl and reaching up with a thin arm and patting his shoulder. "Why should you care? You're getting a free supply out of it."

"I get a supply anyway," Daryl replied. He thought about all those people, those straight people who'd never touched a drug in their life. He was surprised that he didn't find the prospect amusing. And the children . . . how would they react to a little Mort in their lives?
Millions of people coming unwrapped at the same time.
This was something beyond his ability to imagine.

"Besides," Mort said, with a sly grin, "think of the market for Dream it will open up."

"It's no use," Niamh said from his cross-legged position. "We need a stronger source than that crystal."

They had tried every approach to breaking the sphere that imprisoned them, but nothing seemed to work. Adam was starting to think that without the node power, or any power, for that matter, their chances were slim at best in getting out. Then he remembered the memory crystal his father had left for him; some residual power remained even after the message had been delivered. They now tried it as a focus.

"Niamh," Marbann admonished. He sat cross-legged in the tiny chamber, trying to concentrate on the crystal before him. "You know better. No negative input."

Niamh shrugged and looked apologetic. They collected their concentration and focused again. Though the crystal was nothing compared to a stream of pure node power, it had some interesting properties, which may or may not have been inherent in the original matrix when it was mined. This came as no surprise, as the crystal was designed not merely as a message transceiver but as a storage depot for a small sliver of thought and feeling. A complicated device, to say the least, the construction of which visibly impressed Marbann—and apparently went beyond anything he might be able to construct himself, even here in Underhill, with unlimited resources. Adam found it difficult to skirt the powerful emotion his father had impressed on the crystal, but in so doing found it possible to focus a single beam of stored power on a point immediately above them.

The beam brightened, and Adam struggled to control it. "Don't lose it," Adam muttered, more to himself than anyone. He sensed that Marbann was doing most of the manipulation, even managing to intensify the beam during Niamh's interruption. The light appeared on the silver dome's inner surface, immediately above them, and looked as if it were penetrating the mercurylike material that held them in.

That's it,
Adam thought, not daring to shatter the concentration by saying the words aloud. He kept as still as possible, focusing with the rest of the Avalon elves on the crystal, the beam, the ceiling. Then the beam shot through the sphere, the edges of a perfectly round hole visible from their sitting positions. He held back a cheer that threatened to slip past his lips, closed his eyes, and concentrated.

Our captors will see that hole,
he thought,
or will they?
The beam itself was silent, and he'd heard nothing when it pierced the shell.

Something else is going on.
The shell began to fluctuate, the light it emitted dimmed, then brightened.

Is its matrix compromised because of the hole we've put in it?
he wondered. Their prison appeared to become unstable, and in places it grew thin; for brief moments, he had a patchy view of the exterior. Glowing, throbbing, pulsing, the dome issued a low, dissonant hum, a discordant tone that sounded like the death of a magical creation. Which was, Adam reasoned, precisely what it was.