The Shaktra (18 page)

“There’s a Bic lighter in my backpack, in the top on the right,” she said. “Hand it to me.”

She felt Ra fumble in her pack. “You don’t want to smoke that opium now, do you?” he asked.

She almost smiled, spoke softly instead. “A month ago I passed the test of fire, the test of air. I might be able to combine the two elements and treat these creatures to a barbecue.”

Ra put the lighter in her left hand. Dropping the fire stones, she transferred it to her
right
hand, took a step away from her partners, closer to the scabs. The dust was a bank of yellow fog. The ghosts that hovered in it were images from a witch’s dreams. The circling scabs had created a scary cauldron, she thought, a soup kettle that they planned to feed from. What they didn’t know was that she was about to reach outside the kettle and throw a huge log on the fire.

Ali raised the lighter to her lips, struck the flame, focused her will, and blew.

The flame magnified itself a hundredfold. It swept the area in front of her. Six scabs immediately caught fire. Their top shells ignited like newspaper, while their lower halves cracked and sparked like bowls of Jell-O soaked in gasoline. Another six scabs fled her attack, but she blew again, before they could get out of range, and the roaring flames scorched both their spinning and dangling tentacles as they caught fire. And the air they had sucked inside must have somehow changed itself into gas because suddenly the scabs began to explode like ponderous zeppelins caught in the crosshairs of a World War I machine gun.

Turning on her heels, Ali blew fire all around. She was a volcano attached to a carrousel. She felt like a ballerina, a dragon, and most of all, like the queen of the fairies. Power had returned to her right arm—she believed she could throw thunderbolts. The scabs snorted in disgust as they popped and fell to the ground, burning in the sand, and she shouted with joy. She
wanted to burn them, she hated them so much. She was not even sure why.

Drawing in another deep breath, enough air to feed forty lungs, she blew . . . and a geyser erupted from her lips. It could have been a dream; she did not feel herself, or else she felt much
more
than herself. She was a match, her red hair was a flame, the center of her brain was a smoldering coal. The scabs tried to run, to fly, but she kept breathing fire on them, and they kept dying, horribly, balls of seared jelly bursting from the inside.

She did not know how long this went on . . .

Ra suddenly grabbed her, though, stopped her, knocked the lighter away.

“Ali! Your hand!” he cried.

Her right hand, the injured one, was bleeding again. The red had already soaked her bandages, and was dripping onto the sand. She had not even noticed, but when she did, her body shuddered, and it was not her palm that seemed to go numb and throb with pain, it was her whole arm. Once again, she had let the power carry her away, and now the power deserted her. The scabs were burning but she was not in a whole lot better shape. A wave of dizziness swept over her. She had to lean on Ra to keep from falling.

“Help me to the bridge,” she whispered.

Ra
carried
her to the bridge. She didn’t know how, what with his bow and arrow, sword, and backpack. He had not been boasting—he was unusually strong. Ali felt a deep weariness slip over her mind, but managed to keep her eyes open long enough to see that no scabs were following. Paddy marched proudly by Ra’s side, and kept telling her to relax, that she was in good hands.

They reached the bridge and Ra kept walking, carrying her
out until they were far over the water. There he set her down against a stone pillar, one of many, that supported the bridge against the powerful green current. Ali saw that the top of the bridge was made up of smooth gray rock tiles, that had been cemented together with dark plaster, but that underneath the tiles were aged tree trunks of incredible length and thickness. Indeed, the wood looked so old, so strong, it might have been petrified stone. Paddy was right, the bridge over Elnar was ancient.

Ali rested her aching head on the pillar. “Did you pick up the lighter?” she asked.

“Yes,” Ra said.

“Did you get the fire stones? I dropped them.”

“Got them, Missy,” Paddy said.

“Try to relax, Ali. I have to attend to your hand.” Ra searched through his pack. “I’ve never seen bleeding start up like that again.”

Ali closed her eyes, tried to relax. “It’s the power, it has a mind of its own. This human body can hardly contain it.”

“You better learn to contain it,” Ra said. “That was an impressive show, but it almost killed you.”

Ali felt herself smile. “Do you believe I’m a fairy now?”

“I believe that you are a young woman who is pushing her limits.”

“You know, you speak very good English for a shaman savage. How is that?”

“Are you trying to insult me?”

“Of course,” she mumbled, her weariness deepening. The pain in her hand and arm was ghastly, but it was such a relief to be safe, she didn’t care. And it was nice to have Ra caring for her. They had just met but she trusted him, she was not sure why.

“I watch a lot of American TV,” Ra said.

She continued to rest with her eyes closed. “Ah-ha, I knew it. You envy us fat Americans.”

“I did not say that. You are fat and stupid. But you have good programs.”

1 enjoy me
Mr. Ed,”
Paddy remarked, but he sounded far away.

Ali was not sure how long she lay there. She felt Ra removing her soaked bandage and cleaning her wound, before rolling on a fresh layer of gauze. After that, she was not sure what happened. She might have dozed. Her pain did not vanish but it receded into the distance. But she was still aware of the sweet breeze on her face, and the sound of water running beneath her. Elnar, she knew, was as deep as it was fast, and she could almost remember swimming in it as a fairy. . . .

She heard a horrible scream and sat up and opened her eyes.

Ra and Farble were gathered around Paddy.

It was Paddy who had screamed.

There was a scab attached to his left arm.

They were trying to get it off. It was not coming off.

Ali jumped up. “What happened?” she cried.

“We were resting, but I had my eyes open,” Ra explained. “I told them I would stand guard. But I was looking at the water, I must have stared too long, and a scab must have come onto the bridge. No, it must have come from
under
the bridge. I would have seen it otherwise. I thought we were safe on the bridge!” He added, miserable, “This is my fault.”

Ali knelt in front of Paddy, studied the creature, which looked even more like a jellyfish since it wasn’t spinning in the air. It was smaller now that it had deflated—as large as a softball instead of a basketball. The top of the scab’s body lay on the back of his arm, while the tentacles were wrapped around the
inside. The dozens of tiny suction cups on the tentacles were stinging him—he was obviously in great pain. Tears ran down his face as he looked at her.

“Help me, Missy!” he cried.

“Do you know
how
we can help you?” she asked.

Paddy shook his head. “They say they never come off.”

Ali glanced at Ra. “Did you try pulling it off?”

“We were just doing that,” Ra said. “It’s hard to get a grip on.”

Farble nodded, anxious, patted the leprechaun on the head. “Paddy,” he murmured. It was the first time he had ever said the leprechaun’s name.

“Stand back, let me try,” Ali said.

“But your hand—” Ra began.

“I don’t care about my hand!” Ordering the others to hold Paddy still—not an easy task, he had begun to struggle—Ali tried grabbing the scab’s top, but its tenuous surface slipped between her fingers. She had no more luck trying to pull off individual tentacles; they were coated with an oily residue. Besides stinging her own fingers, the stuff made them impossible to hold on to.

Ali looked around for her fire stones. “We’re going to have to burn it off,” she said. Paddy shook in terror at the suggestion.

“Don’t burn me, Missy!”

Ali sought to calm him. “I’m not going to hurt you. I can control the amount of energy I send through the stones. This will just be like a little laser surgery back on Earth.”

Paddy could not stop staring at the scab. “I feel it eating me skin!”

Ali suspected the creature was beginning to eat him. And she could not help but notice that it was moving up his arm, toward his shoulder, probably seeking out the head.

Resting the stones in her left palm, she focused on sending a
fine beam of energy onto the surface of the scab. And she was successful, or so it seemed—a pencil-thin red laser reached out and struck the top coat of the scab. Unfortunately, the burn caused the creature to squeeze Paddy’s arm so tight with its tentacles that Ali thought the limb might burst. Paddy’s pain went off the deep end. He screamed bloody murder. Ra and Farble had to fight to hold him down.

“Kill it!” Ra shouted.

Ali nodded and increased the level of energy, but again it backfired. The scab just gripped tighter, while it injected more stinging venom into Paddy’s arm, turning the skin on his hand a black-green color. At the same time, the burning drove it more quickly up his arm, toward his head. Once it got off his arm, Ali knew, he was done for.

“Keep it up!” Ra shouted at her as she paused. Shaking her head, Ali sat back on her knees.

“The more I burn it, the more poison it injects into his system,” she said.

“You have to keep trying,” Ra said.

“It will kill him before it will let go,” she said.

Ra went to snap at her, but then looked down at Paddy’s face, his sweaty agony, and slowly nodded his head. “You have to take his arm off,” he said quietly.

Ali nodded. “I was thinking that.”

“Better do it quick,” Ra warned.

Ali got up on her knees, moved into position above Paddy. The creature was already well past his elbow—she would have to take the arm off near the top. That would cause him to bleed, of course, but she was confident she could muster enough healing energy to keep him alive. Anything would be better than letting the scab eat his brains.

So she told herself. But as she placed the fire stones near his
joint, the leprechaun stopped thrashing and stared at her with pleading eyes. “No, Missy,” he said.

“It’s the only way to stop it,” she said.

Paddy shook his head weakly, spoke in a strangled whisper. All the time, his eyes never left hers. “I couldn’t find me gold, Missy. Came back empty-handed. Now I can’t lose me arm. Lea. . . she would not have me. No one would.”

Ali’s eyes burned. “But I can’t let it eat your brain.”

“Kill me, Missy.”

“What? No!”

“Yes.” He gripped her hand with his free hand. “You have to do it. Paddy cannot live with one arm, and Paddy cannot take this pain. Stop it, Missy, please stop it.”

“Paddy . . .”

He wept. “Do it for poor Paddy!”

Ali had never known such anguish, and it was hers to bear alone. The other two could only look at her and watch as the scab slowly moved higher. Yet Ra was shaking his head—he still wanted her to take the arm—and Farble was trembling, gently rubbing Paddy’s hair. Ali felt she had not entered the elemental kingdom, after all, but had taken a wrong turn and dragged them down into hell with her.

Then, in a moment, she knew what she had to do.

Ali let go of Paddy, set down the fire stones, and began to unwrap her bandage. Ra looked puzzled for a moment, then anxious. “What do you think you are doing?” he demanded.

“I’m going to stop it,” she said.

“How?”

“I’m going to let it drink my blood.”

“What?”

“It can have my arm,” she said.

Ra was aghast. “That’s crazy! You’ll die!”

She stared at him. “When it’s on me, then I’ll cut off my arm, with the stones, and I’ll live.”

“Ali. . .”

“I can survive the trauma.” She added, “I can heal myself.”

Ra reached over and tried to stop her. “You can’t operate on yourself! You can’t heal yourself when you’re bleeding to death! Why, you can’t even heal your burnt hand!”

He was strong but she was stronger. She shook him off.

“It’s the only way,” she said.

Ra suddenly stood. “I will not let you do this.”

Ali looked up at him, sad. “You won’t be able to stop me.”

Ra blinked, rubbed his eyes.”
Why
are you doing this?”

“Because I brought them to this place. I’m responsible for them.”

“That’s not true!” Ra said.

“It is true.” She tore off the last of the fresh bandage, looked down at Paddy, who appeared to be going into shock. She added, “I’m responsible because I’m their queen.”

Ra saw she was determined. The strength seemed to go out of his legs, and he sat down beside her as she placed the palm of her injured hand in front of the scab’s path. As she suspected, it was immediately drawn to her exposed flesh, her blood. She watched as a tentacle reached up and gripped her pinkie, and another coiled around her wrist.

Perhaps it preferred human meat to leprechaun . . .

Within a minute the creature had moved onto her lower arm, and let go of Paddy.

She felt poison in her veins. The stinging sensation was worse than her burn.

Ali sat back on her knees, lifted the fire stones, glanced at Ra.

“If I pass out, tear some cloth, put a tourniquet on my elbow,” she said.

Ra looked as if he would be sick “Then what?” he asked bitterly.

“Then slap me in the face, wake me up, and let me finish the job.”

Ali raised the fire stones and tried to concentrate on a spot six inches beneath her elbow. She felt the venom go deeper into her blood, as the stones began to warm. But Ra reached over and knocked the stones from her hand.

“Wait!” he pleaded.

“Ra!” she complained, feeling a wave of nausea as the scab crawled up an inch. “I have no choice!”

“Listen. I watch tons of American programs. That’s where I learned to speak such good English. My favorite is your Discovery Channel. I watch it all the time—I’ve learned amazing things from it. There was this one program, it was on saltwater fish, how most of them can only survive in a narrow range of ocean depth. Most of the fish you see when you snorkel—take them down two hundred feet and the pressure will kill them.” He gripped the arm that carried the scab. “Do you know what I’m saying?” he asked.