Sunshaker's War (32 page)

Eventually they all snuggled into their bags. David lay back in his, arms folded above his head. The night had warmed up some, and in spite of the pesky mosquitoes, he took off his shirt. He was not surprised when he found Liz's head in the hollow of his arm, her fingers gently stroking his bare chest. He took her hand, held it against his heart. “I'm scared,” he whispered to her.

“You're a hero,” she whispered back, and then weariness claimed them.

*

David woke once an indeterminate time later, strangely disoriented. He gently disengaged Liz's hand and looked up. Fog had drifted in from somewhere, dense, white, low-lying stuff that made even the nighted trees go strange where they reared above it. Moonlight caught one of those pines and sprinkled stars among its needles, indistinguishable from those in the sky. A spiderweb glittered between twin dead oaks to the right, wrought in diamonds and silver. He glanced around, searching for Calvin. He didn't seem to be in evidence, but that didn't necessarily mean anything. He could be asleep in the car. Or, if the fog had trapped him somewhere, he was probably woods-wise enough to stay put and wait for morning to burn the stuff away.

And it really did have a calming effect, he realized. He closed his eyes again, slid down in the bag against the chill, and kissed Liz's hand once more. She mumbled something, and he mumbled back, and then her soft breaths were lost in the murmur of the woods.

*

Somewhat later, David was startled awake once more by Calvin poking him on the top of the head with a bare toe. He started to protest, but the silhouette raised a finger to its lips and silenced him, motioning him to follow. David nodded, and as quietly as he could slid out of the bag. The fog had lifted a bit, but Calvin's body was still indistinct in the half-light. Must still be a few hours till dawn. David picked up his shoes but did not put them on until he could lean against the hood of the car. His feet made almost no noise among the pine needles.

Thirty or so yards further on, he caught up with Calvin. The Indian was almost naked—clad only in a loincloth that appeared to have been hastily improvised out of one of Sandy's handwoven scarves belted with a length of twine from which depended a matched pair of pouches. Golden uktenas David had not seen before glistened balefully on his muscular arms, though the moon had stolen all their color, and he wore his beaded headband. His hair looked strange, though: slick with moisture—too wet for the fog to account for. When he turned, David saw that his cheeks and chest were painted with designs that might have been hawks or eagles. David felt something thrust into his hands, looked down and saw the coffee thermos. It was cool and wet, as if it too had been dipped in water.

The silence was uncanny, as if the lurking fog swallowed all sound. The fog…there was something familiar about it. David caught Calvin gently by the arm, gestured around him, mouthed the word
you
and sketched a question mark in the air.

Calvin nodded almost imperceptibly.

When David had followed Calvin a hundred yards further on, he saw why Calvin had raised this mist. A tiny snow-white deer stood in the trail, its dainty form so bright it reflected the moonlight like a mirror, its delicate antlers extravagantly branched and shining like new-cast silver.

David held his breath, knowing instantly this was no creature of this World. Faerie then? But no, Cherokee myth spoke of such a beast: Awi Usdi, the Little Deer: Lord of Deer-kind in Galunlati. Was this him, and if so, why had Calvin summoned him?

Calvin took a deep breath and settled himself into a low crouch. Very softly he began to chant in the liquid syllables that David knew were his native tongue, then slowly reached into the grasses at his side and pulled out something David recognized: the many-wooded bow Uki had given him their first time in Galunlati. He had one like it; wished he'd remembered to bring it along. Calvin crept forward, once more softly chanting. Abruptly there was movement to the right: a flash of half-seen gray-brown shape amidst the leaves, the white flag of tail that gave its name to the local species of deer.

“Usinuliyu Selagwutsi Gigagei getsunneliga tsudanda- gihi ayeli-yu, usinuliyu
…”

—And a sudden tension in the air as Calvin pulled back the string…

“Yu!”

The arrow flew.

The whitetail did not cry out, did not move, simply collapsed where it stood. That was strange too, for usually it took arrows a while to kill, but by the time David remembered that, Calvin was beside the creature and wrenching the shaft free of the hollow behind the shoulder blade. The deer's eyes found David's for a moment: clear and moist—then dulled abruptly, and by then Calvin had looked back at him. For the first time he spoke. “Quick! The thermos.”

David nodded mutely and provided what he'd been asked. Calvin took it, and with one quick movement of his knife, drew the blade across the deer's throat, holding its head while a sporadic stream of blood dribbled into the container. When it slopped out onto his hands, he stood and backed away.

“Shouldn't we…?” David began, but Calvin shook his head and pointed behind him. The white deer was back, and with it a thickening of the fog. Indeed, the fog seemed to congregate around them, as if drawn there from all quarters of the wood. Something about it sent chills up David's spine. Calvin waited an instant longer, then took a deep breath and whispered one more chant. The fog melted away then, as if the trees absorbed it; and of neither animal was there any sign.

Calvin turned, grinning, but David could see sweat sheening his body and relief on his starlit features.

“Whew,” the Indian whispered. “I wasn't
at all
sure that'd work; that's the first time I ever tried it on my own.”

“Tried what?” David asked. “Or rather, which?”

“To raise a fog, to start with,” Calvin replied. “Uki taught me that. It functions as a gate between here and Galunlati but you can only use it at certain times and for certain reasons. The ritual Oisin used to send us through the first time's too complicated. Mine's easier—but before you ask: no, we can't use it to get to wherever Finny is. Uki wasn't even sure it'd work here, but I had to try. That's why I left: I had to go purify myself: go to water, perform the ritual as a man of the Ani-Yunwiya.”

“And let me guess,” David appended. “You summoned the king deer and got him to intercede.”

“I
had
to, Dave. I could've killed a deer tonight anyway, probably, 'cause there're certainly plenty around. But it'd have been out of season, even if I'd thanked it and covered the blood; so I had to get Awi Usdi to intercede, to explain my errand—though he already knew about it—and to take the body away. To leave it'd raise too many questions. Besides, I owe it to my friend whose land this is. Awi Usdi has promised me he will bring another deer here, one from beyond these lands, one with many points. No one will know.”

David's gaze wandered back to the thermos in his hand. “But why'd you even bother to bring me along? Surely you could have done this alone. Not that I minded, or anything,” he added hastily.

“We are friends, brothers almost, and I thought you would like to witness,” Calvin replied simply. “And also, I needed someone to carry the thermos, 'cause I was afraid the taint of civilization would weird out the magic. Anyway,” he added, “we need warm blood to accomplish our mission, and that oughta keep it that way for a couple of hours. I couldn't tell you earlier, 'cause I was afraid even that would queer the ritual. But once the fog came, once I spoke to Awi Usdi, I needed a second. Thanks, man, for being there.”

“My pleasure,” David said, thinking of just how wonderful it had been: a new mystery. Suddenly he realized just how much he missed magic. That it was Cherokee, more his regional heritage than any rites of the Sidhe, made it all the better. He wondered suddenly if Calvin would help him learn it.

They had reached the car now, and Calvin ducked around to the driver's side and stripped off the loincloth, then began wiping away his warpaint with a sock. Naked in the moonlight, David saw him briefly as he really was: a boy, true; but a Man of Power as well, that power reflected in the proud, keen lines of his body.

Calvin wasted no time. Jeans and falcon T-shirt returned, ditto his Frye boots, minus one sock. David checked his watch, startled to see that it was nearly four o'clock. “Best we ride again, I guess,” he whispered wearily. “I'll go wake the others.”

“Right,” Calvin agreed. “We still need to get to Atlanta as early as we can and find some place where we can work what I've got in mind. A patch of woods would be best. Fortunately, the place is full of 'em.”

“Right,” David echoed uncertainly, and left to awaken Liz with a kiss.

“What time is it?” she asked sleepily, as David applied himself to the much more recalcitrant Alec. “I thought we were gonna sleep till dawn.”

“Can't,” David told her. “Somebody's liable to catch us and ask questions. Calvin's got what he came for. We need to move, need to be in Atlanta in about an hour. That'll still give us a little time before sunup.”

Liz nodded and helped herself to the last of the cocoa in the remaining thermos, while Calvin came up to help rouse Alec—which was not a thing easily accomplished. David risked a glance at the sky. It was clear, but already lightening in the east. They'd have to hurry. But, he realized, he felt good. The sleep might have done part of it, little though there had been, but he suspected magic had something to do with it as well.

“I've been thinking,” Liz said a moment later. “Since we're this close, maybe I ought to scry again. I got a sense of Atlanta last time, but maybe it was just trying to give me a familiar landmark, or something. One thing, though: I…I'm not sure, but I think the second time it didn't look quite the same. It was like…like the place had shifted, or something.”

David eyed her warily. “If you really need to…”

Liz shook her head. “I'm not wild about doing it again, that's for sure; it gives me a headache. But we really don't want to go awry.”

“Good point,” Alec acknowledged from where he was combing his wayward hair with the aid of David's outside mirror.

By the time Alec and David had rolled up their sleeping bags and put away the night's detritus, Liz was ready.

“I won't ask you about that little errand of yours and Calvin's,” she whispered to David when he caught her momentarily alone. “But I hope an explanation'll come along some time.”

“Soon enough,” David replied, and then Alec and Calvin returned and it was time to begin.

They did not bother with the torque this time, nor did they prime the ulunsuti with blood. “We'll do that if we have to,” Liz informed them, “but it's like—I don't know. Scrying like I used to do was so chancy, so like being lost in your head. This makes it easier to tune. It's like cutting with a sharp knife instead of a dull one.”

“Right,” Alec said. “Now come on, we're burning daylight.”

“
Dark,
” David amended. “We're burning
dark.
”

“
Which is what we need,” Calvin chuckled. “So let's get started.”

Liz nodded and stared at the crystal. David did likewise, trying to see what she saw—and did: the tower again, the surrounding sea once more, briefly Fionchadd in his prison. And then she drew back—slowly this time, searching for the World Walls she knew must lie close around, though below was only water.

And found them—passed through—and gazed not upon Atlanta, but on gray stone. She blinked, almost cried out, for David saw her lips part and her jaw stiffen. But she faltered only a moment, and drew further back. The stone vanished abruptly, and then David realized what had happened. The hidden country had shifted slightly. No longer did the tower lie beside the IBM Tower; now it was inside Stone Mountain.

David expected Liz to yank them out immediately, but instead she kept drawing back slowly, one part of her mind still trained on the landscape of the hidden country, the other on the World it overlaid. Further and further, until she found the borders of the one and passed beyond them. “Jesus!” David gasped at last. “What happened?”

“It moved,” Alec replied. “—I think. I think it's sort of a free-floating World that kinda drifts above our own.”

“You mean the seas have no limit?” Calvin asked. “No, I think they've got limits, but there's nothing beyond them—
nothing
,
Calvin. Which means that unless the ulunsuti can teleport us as well as open a gate, we've got to be closer, close enough for us to be inside the borders when we go over.”

“
How
close?”

“How far can you swim?”

“Far enough.”

“Well, looks like you're at least gonna have to be able to swim the radius of Stone Mountain.”

“Or more,” Alec appended. “We'll have to find a place to work outside.”

“Right,” said David. “Let's travel.”