The Master (20 page)

He grabbed Zee and the children and toppled them to the floor. Above, a gout of fire rushed into the room, licking at the ceiling. It had come from one of the massive, darkened corridors that led from the room. The heat was intense, like a blast from an incinerator. They closed their eyes against it, but the light was so blindingly bright that they could still see a creature's silhouette stretched over them, blocking out everything, swallowing them whole in some sort of psychic net. It took an effort for Nick and Zee to fight clear of the cobweb mesh enveloping their minds and roll themselves toward the shelter of the boulders near the cavern walls.

Then the shadow and the heat retreated, to be slowly replaced by a watery blue light, and they could hear a small stream bubbling nearby, a sound that hadn't existed moment before.

What now? A flood?

Don't be a pessimist,
scolded the ghost.

As suddenly as it had come, the light was gone. A scent filled the chamber, a light, luscious green smell, a mix of berries and fern that evoked the clear image of a woodland. Nick was awed by the elemental power of nature, by this holy place, this sanctuary. There also came the sound of running water.

“Do you smell that?” he called to Zee, checking Hansel over as best he could while lying prone. Other than dazed, the boy seemed fine. “It's like blackberries, fern and musk.”

“But there's something else, too,” Zee said. Whiffs of burning rubber filled the air. She helped Gretel roll over, giving her sister an encouraging smile that the girl slowly returned.

“That must be the dragon fire,” Nick whispered, as the last of the blue light and psychic intrusion faded. He'd never considered it would smell like this. “What a weird combination of smells.”

“Weird for us,” Zee said. “I . . . I think that first smell was the shian itself. The faerie mound.”

“Is that good or bad?” Nick asked. Then: “Is it normal for a cave to smell like blackberries?”

“I don't know. These mounds are alive, though— that's what they say.” Zee raised her voice and lifted her head off the floor. She looked shaken, but sounded quite composed. The imp was not so calm, and the moment it freed itself from the folds of Zee's cloak, it scurried for the cover of an outcropping of rock that looked a bit like a chair.

“Is that you, Mr. Dragon?” Zee called out suddenly.

There was a pause, and then came a slow rumbling that sounded a bit like a person clearing his throat— a very large person. Nick had the sense that the dragon was surprised at being directly addressed.

“Why, yes it is,” answered a deep voice that resonated through the chamber. “Sorry about that sneeze. Allergies, you know. And who might you all be? And why are you here on this suddenly blustery day?”

Zee hesitated, and Nick recalled some of the faerie tales he'd read about dragons. Giving them your real name was not wise because it gave certain powers over you. Zee seemed to have heard these stories, too, and she hesitated before answering.

“We are four travelers seeking the faerie stronghold of Cadalach.” She rose to her knees. She did not, however, stand up. That would put her in the range of the previous firestorm. Either she didn't believe in the dragon's allergies or she wasn't willing to risk another attack of his hay fever.

There was the sound of sniffling and the air around them eddied. Maybe the dragon
did
have allergies.

“Is that wise?” the deep voice asked. “I mean,
fee, fi, fo, fum, I smell the blood of a lutin.
The fey aren't generally friends to lutins, you know.”

“That's
not
what dragons say,” Hansel piped up suddenly. “
Fee-fi-fo-fum
's for
giants.
And we're only
half
-goblins. At least, they say we are, but I'm not even sure of that. We don't have four arms—and I'm much smarter than my cousins!”

There came a small rumble that might have been the dragon's laugh.

“We're very sorry to bother you,” Zee began again, then cleared her throat, suggesting that she was actually somewhat nervous. Nick reached out and squeezed her hand. “But we have a problem. We had some car trouble, and we're being chased by five goblins—”

“Mutant goblins,” Nick corrected, also coming to his knees. The children were sitting up, looking expectant. If they weren't afraid, he wouldn't act that way either. “And they have some kind of nasty poison darts.”

“Do they, now? Well, well . . . mutant goblins with darts. This I have to see. Don't be alarmed. I'm coming out. We really must talk about this at length. Mutant goblins are a favorite . . . hobby, you might say.” The dragon's voice was suddenly very animated. There was the sound of something massive moving down one of the dark corridors. A faint glow illuminated the tunnel to the west. The temperature in the cave began to climb.

“Get behind cover,” Nick said to Zee, picking up both children and taking shelter behind a glass mound. They didn't crouch, but Nick pressed the children back and was ready to drop flat at a moment's notice.

“I wanna see the dragon,” Hansel complained.

“You will,” Nick said, his voice grim. He ran a hand through Gretel's hair. She didn't look frightened, but she didn't seem as enthused about having a close encounter with a dragon as her brother did.

They watched in silence as a monstrous creature resembling a dinosaur clawed its way into the room. It had to wiggle to get its belly through the opening, clawing at the opening with massive talons. Nick was struck by the almost industrial smell that clung to it.

“Would you like to come with me to see the goblins? I could give you a ride,” the dragon added. His voice was almost gentle.

Nick relaxed. He felt faintly ridiculous cowering behind a rock when the dragon was being so polite.

He was still wary, though, and kept possession of his shotgun—for all the good it would do him. The dragon was armored, and its mouth was large enough to bite off Nick's head and shoulders in one chomp.

“
I
want a ride!” Hansel said immediately. He smiled winningly up at the dragon. “Can you fly?”

“I would like to ride, too,” Gretel added softly.

Nick looked at the children. Hansel seemed alert enough, but Gretel still appeared dazed, her eyes slightly unfocused.

“I'm not certain it would be safe,” Zee began. Then, seeing the almost human elevation of the dragon's brow ridge, she added, “It's the goblin darts. They made us all very sick. Nick had to give us drugs so we could move, but I don't think it's good for the children to have so many human chemicals in their bodies.”

Nick also didn't think it would be good for the children to see the dragon enjoying his
hobby.
It would probably give them nightmares for decades.

Never mind the children
, the ghost said to Nick.
I don't want to see it, either.

“Very well then,” the dragon said. “Stay here—and watch the left cave opening. Company's coming. Unless I'm mistaken, those are Thomas Marrowbone's jinns outside. And mind the tail as I go by. It seems to have a mind of its own. Literally. I think it came off a stegosaurus. In any event, it remains a bit of an independent operator.” The dragon turned his head away and moved swiftly toward the cave entrance. His tail might be stegosaurus, but the rest of him was something much faster.

“Yoohoooo,” the dragon caroled as he stepped outside. It was terrifying, this singsong pitch. “Little goblins, come out, come out, wherever you are! Time for my afternoon snack.”

Nick and Zee exchanged a glance, and both of them shuddered.

“These goblins who are after this family . . . I've been thinking about this. King Quede was engineering some strange hybrid beings. We may not have discovered them all—or destroyed all his projects,” Roman Hautecoeur admitted reluctantly. His breathing was calm. Being part pooka, he was good at running. Being curious, he was determined to see the goblins that had invaded fey territory.

“And you think Lobineau has been busy hunting them up and enlisting them for his own purposes?” Thomas asked. He wasn't winded either, but his voice reflected the fact that he, Roman and their friend Abrial had run nearly two miles at speeds humans could only imagine. He'd collected them to come on this mission. “I've about decided this myself.”

“Maybe. Probably. He was willing to raise a hobgoblin from the dead—though how he managed it, I still don't know,” Roman added.

“ ‘Will no one rid me of this meddlesome priest?' ” Thomas asked, only half in jest. Actually, Roman figured it was probably something less than half, since Thomas wasn't smiling.

“Gladly. Say the word and he is gone. I can be in New Orleans before sunset and finish the job.”

“And thus would end our first attempt at détente with a goblin hive,” Thomas said gloomily. “We don't have any proof of wrongdoing, you know. At least, not yet.”

“Hey, it's been more
taunt
than
détente
since Lobineau took over. We've let him get away with . . . well, murder. Politics!” Roman sounded disgusted.

“Our lives are always about politics, one way or another. And you know what they say about diplomacy,” Thomas prompted.

“Something I won't like?” Roman guessed. Thomas snorted.

“Chou En-lai said that diplomacy is the continuation of war by other means. Or, as Galbraith put it: ‘Politics is not the art of the possible; it consists of choosing between the disastrous and the unpalatable.' ”

“You're quoting humans again,” Roman complained. “Surely we fey had something to say about this.”

Abrial spoke up, finally joining the conversation. “Nothing as succinct. When it comes to politics and war, humans have always had us beaten hands down. We—the unseelie, at least—deal more in treachery and assassination.” He gave a dark smile, as if contemplating just such a solution to the invading goblins.

Thomas shook his head. “Fascinating though this subject is, further discussion will have to wait. I can smell the dragon. He's barbecuing again.”

Roman laughed shakily. “Man! I hope that it's goblin on the grill and not our family of four.”

Zee sat down wearily and pulled off her shoes. She upended them, emptying out a small river of sand. Nick realized that his shoes—his now mostly destroyed leather-soled loafers—were also filled with grit, and that his feet were blistered.

“Nick?” Zee looked longingly at the stream that had appeared in the cavern. “Do you think . . . ? ”

“Let me taste it first,” he answered, kicking off his shoes.

The water bubbled gaily at his approach, bathing him in soft blue light and beckoning him closer. Once again, he could smell the pleasing scent of berries and fern.

The first touch of the water eased the abraded feeling that had plagued his exposed skin. He dipped his hand fully in the water and brought it to his mouth. Instantly, the tightness in his throat eased. “I think it's okay,” he called. “Just drink slowly. You don't want your stomachs to cramp.”

Zee and the children approached and did as Nick had done. The dancing water seemed to affect them in the same way. Zee especially looked eased, and the angry flush faded from her skin. Smiling, they all waded into the blue stream. The water felt magnificent, as no water ever had before. They all knelt down and drank deep, reverent draughts until their bodies could hold no more, and all of their fatigue and pain fell away.

“Well, I'll be damned,” a male voice said behind them. “I didn't know that these waters could heal half-lutins.”

“And I didn't know that dragons wouldn't eat them,” another added.

Startled, Nick got to his feet, hauling Zee up beside him. They stood in front of the children, shielding them as best they could.

“Hello,” a dark-haired man said, shifting to the side of the cavern's left most tunnel, the one the dragon had requested they watch. Two more men stepped out after him, each a little darker, a little taller and a little stranger than the one before. “I'm Thomas Marrowbone. Welcome to Cadalach.”

“This is Cadalach?” Nick asked in surprise. Zee understood what he was thinking. As strongholds went, it seemed unimpressive and not exactly defensible. At least, not with the dragon away.

“An outpost, let us say. Certainly it is a cavern friendly to the fey.”

Zee studied the one called Thomas Marrowbone first. He was the one who had summoned the jinn and who the dragon had expected to arrive—which probably meant that he was some sort of magician. He had a certain grave wizardly elegance about him—not his clothing so much, which appeared quite ordinarily human. Perhaps it was his posture and demeanor. He had an erect carriage and grave expression that she associated with the portraits of Victorian gentlemen her father had kept in his study.

The man to his left was another matter. He was a creature of the earth, strongly built, almost animalistic. Zee didn't know how she came by this knowledge, but she was certain that he was some sort of animal fey. Perhaps . . . part river horse? A pooka?

The last of the three men was very special, very dangerous—perhaps not to them specifically, but to the world as a whole. He wore his magic like a dark cloak and had eyes darker than midnight. The first two men were of the day. The third was of the night. He was unseelie. His gaze raised goose bumps on Zee's skin, and she found it hard to smile at him.

Executioner.
The word popped into her head.

Seeing Zee's expression, Thomas said, “Forgive my manners. These gentlemen with me are Roman Hautecoeur and Abrial Nightdemon.” He spoke softly, moving slowly into the room. He was careful to keep his posture unthreatening and his expression neutral. Nevertheless, Nick moved to stand in front of Zee and the children.