Darkthunder's Way (30 page)

“Jesus!” he whispered, as his gorge rose and he clamped a hand across his mouth.

Then, “Shit!” as the spot began to spread.

Abruptly the white wall twitched, scooted toward them.

One moment David was facing a section of uktena so long it resembled nothing animate, and the next it had slammed into him, and he was flying backward while a vast white cylinder arched into the blue sky above him—a cylinder that was quickly pinkening, and with a dazzling glare at one end that hurt to look at. Then he struck ground and rolled, and when he could see again, a second cylinder was also rising, only this one was smaller and had a point at its tip. Both head and tail, it appeared, had awakened.

The head was turning their way too, even as it rose, and as it moved, the color changed: to pure, deep red, then to white, then to red again. Spots began to appear, blinking into existence along the whole vast length, exactly like the lights on a theater marquee. And each spot was as big as a man outspread, and red as blood.

“God
damn
!”
Calvin yelled, and David glanced to his left to see the Indian charging downslope toward him, as a coil convulsed in his direction. Then, “Move it, Sullivan!” as Calvin reached down to yank him up. “Shit, man, we did it! But let’s not hang around.”

“Where’s Finno?”

“Where he’s supposed to be, I hope. Now let’s go!”

Somehow David found both his feet and his staff. He could barely breathe, and his shoulder hurt abominably.

“
Now
, Sullivan! Oh Christ,
look out
!”

David looked up, could not help it. And for the first time he truly saw the uktena’s head: huge and triangular, with twin red horns curving out behind like the arms of a lyre. Its eyes glowed yellow beneath the blaze of white light that sparked out from its forehead where the ulunsuti was. He shut his eyes quickly and jerked his head down to avoid the spell of that stone, whose afterimages were already dancing before him—but not before he had seen the mouth gape opened. The scarlet lining leered down at him from a hundred feet away, the whole horrible cavity bordered by teeth each as long as his arm. And then the uktena screamed its pain.

Abruptly the towering head plunged earthward, as if gravity had at last grown tired of being flaunted and yanked it down. David took advantage of the opportunity and rolled further downslope.

What was keeping Fionchadd?

Then he saw the Faery running toward the creature, saw him raise his bow and draw, tracking it along the beast’s length. The spots glowed brighter, appeared and disappeared with even greater rapidity.

“Come on, Finny; shoot!” Calvin yelled.

But Fionchadd did not shoot. He stood as if dazed, as the bulk of the creature looped across the top of the mountain.

“Now, Finno,
now
!”

An arrow flew, but struck home in a spot that was not the seventh. And David had a glimpse of Fionchadd staring dumbfounded at the bow while he nocked another arrow.

But the head was once more arcing toward them, ablaze with the light of the ulunsuti.

And David was running, Calvin beside him, down the slope and toward the barrier.

“Come on!” Calvin shouted. Then, “Look out!” as the tail snapped over the summit and kept coming, thumping and flopping as the beast flung almost its whole vast length into the sky, then folded upon itself and slid over the bracken toward them.

The barrier was ahead of them now: no more than fifty yards. David ran, fell, felt Calvin jerk him up, and ran again.

Forty yards. He could see Alec.

“Fire it,” he heard Fionchadd cry. “Now, now!”

Thirty yards, and Alec was thrusting the reed torch into the tinder, as David and Calvin angled left toward the narrower part of the crevasse.

But suddenly that was cut off, because the tail whipped that way, and they had to dodge right while the monster slithered closer, moving faster than they ever could have suspected.

Twenty yards.

Ten.

This was the wide part, David realized suddenly, but by then he was jumping, clearing the pit as flames roared up before him and raced away on either side. Beside him was Calvin, before him was Alec’s face. Heat slapped at him, but then arms grabbed him, and he stumbled, and then ran again, while flames raced along the edge of the gulley. Beyond them curled and twitched the uktena.

Abruptly they skidded to a halt: “Where’s Finny?” Calvin gasped.

“He must be okay,” David panted. “He helped spread the fire.”

“But where
is
he?”

David scanned the upper slope, searching for the Faery amid the coils of the monster, but the rising pall of smoke made it impossible.

“Nowhere.”

“Jesus, he’s still there!”

“Then we better get him the hell out,” Alec cried. He darted by them, leapt through the flames, and ran upslope, runestaff in hand.

“No!”
David yelled, even as the flames licked higher into a wall that drove both him and Calvin back.

“I see him, guys. He’s fallen!”

“Watch the head, Alec! The stone in the head!”

But Alec ran onward, toward coils that now undulated a bare twenty yards away. The head had stopped moving, though; had paused as if curious, poised above something that lay on the ground.

Behind the wall of fire, David could only stand beside Calvin and sob, as smoke stung his eyes, and flame poured its fury on his face, and he saw between the flickering tongues his best friend’s figure still loping along, though the heat made his shape shimmer like a wraith. And above it all was the glare of the ulunsuti.

“Finn!” Alec shouted.

“I can’t get a clear shot,” the Faery answered, his voice shrill and shaky. “I— Oh, no!”

The head lowered, minutely, and at that moment a gust of wind tore the smoke and flame away and David saw Alec leap on the monster’s back, saw him drive the sharp tip of his runestaff deep into the spot directly in front of the one from which Fionchadd’s arrow still protruded.

Sound split the world then: a scream beyond all screams, a thunder beyond all thunders. David clamped his hands on his ears and shut his eyes reflexively.

When he opened them an instant later, the uktena was writhing and twisting along the ground exactly like a rattler he had seen that had had its head cut off by one of his cruder classmates. And each flop and jerk brought it closer to the gully.

But where was Alec?

David strained his eyes, but could find no sign of his friend amid the crumpled bushes. And then he had another concern, because suddenly the uktena was directly on the other side of the barrier.

It was stupid, David realized suddenly, for them ever to have assumed that anything so vast would be cowed by a simple wall of flame, especially when it was in its death throes.

Yet apparently the fire repelled it, because the creature thrust its head over once, then drew back; and, coil-by-coil, tumbled into the crevasse. A moment later it lay still, though dark blood continued to pump from the wounded spot, until the whole pit was awash with the foul-smelling fluid.

“Alec,” David screamed, rushing as close to the wall of flame as he dared.

“Alec, can you hear me?”

No answer.

A quick glance at Calvin. “Come on!”

The two boys backed away downslope, then hurled themselves forward in twin leaps that brought them through the flame and across the uktena’s back and into the smashed and wilted foliage on the upper side.

David was half hysterical. “Alec, goddamn it, answer me!”

A figure rose awkwardly, further to the left, and David’s heart leapt, then sank again when he saw it was Fionchadd. The Faery looked dazed, was walking shakily and staring at the shattered remnants of his bow, but David had no time for him, beyond a brief sigh of relief.

Suddenly, from Calvin: “Dave, hurry, I’ve found him.”

David darted to the right to where the Indian was kneeling by a crumpled figure. He had already started to reach out to him when Calvin stopped him. “He’s alive—barely—but we don’t dare move him until he regains consciousness. I can’t tell how badly he’s hurt, and we can’t risk spinal damage.”

David’s blood turned to ice. “It’s
that
serious?”

Calvin nodded grimly. “It might be,” and then: “Oh, shit!”

David followed Calvin’s gaze and saw to his horror that the skin of both of Alec’s hands was hanging in tattered strips, as though he had held them in boiling water. They were red, too, though there was no sign of bleeding, just an ugly white-yellow pus oozing from the tortured flesh.

“It’s the blood,” David said. “The stuff must have squirted all over him when he stabbed it. Thank God he didn’t get any on his face.”

“No, but we’ve got to get it off him; it’s still eating away, see?”

“Maybe this will help,” a shaky voice said. Fionchadd’s face was pale, his clothing tattered, and his hair filled with bits of brush. He held out the wineskin Oisin had given them in the asi and raised a slanted eyebrow. “It is the last of Oisin’s cordial. I mixed it with water before we left the cave.”

David scooted aside as Fionchadd poured the liquid on Alec’s hands, then splashed more on any spot where the uktena blood made its presence known by holes or smoke or ulcers. Blessedly there were not many—evidently Alec had been flung off as soon as the runestaff found its mark. David looked around, saw it lying a few feet away—or what was left of it. The point end was eaten away entirely; and the remainder was reduced to a smoking nub no longer than his forearm.

A moan from Alec drew their attention then, though Calvin kept one eye peeled toward the uktena and the waning fire. Instantly David was by him, eyes fixed anxiously on his friend’s face.

Alec’s lids never opened, but his lips slowly found their way around words.
“D…
David?”

“I’m here, kid; you know it.”

“Did we do it?”

“
You
did it, Mr. Smoothie, it was all you.”

A faint smile. “I did?”

“You alone.”

Alec’s face contorted, and he coughed blood. “David?”

“What is it, bro?”

“I hurt.”

“Where? You gotta tell us, so we can know how to make you better.”

“Everywhere…but mostly hands—and eyes.”

“
Eyes?
Oh, Jesus, no!”

Alec did not reply, but David saw his lids flicker, caught a glimpse of the familiar gray beneath. Then Alec screamed, “The light, the light! All I see is light.”

“The stone,” Fionchadd whispered. “I know it dazzled me; it must have completely blinded him.”

“But not before he succeeded.”

“Aye, where I did not.”

“Never mind that.” David looked back at his friend. “Just take it easy. We’ve done the hard part, the rest is all downhill.”

“Literally,” Alec whispered. He managed another weak smile. “But, David, there’s something…something I’ve got to tell you.”

“Sure, kid, anything.”

“David…
David,
I’ve…
I’ve done a real bad thing. I…”

And then consciousness left him and would not return.

Chapter XVIII: Regrouping

“I will go and find Uki,” Fionchadd said. He sprang up from where he had been squatting at Calvin’s side and darted off down the ridge.

“But what about Alec?” David cried frantically. “You know more about healing than any of us!”

“He is beyond my aid,” the Faery called back. “But perhaps our host knows what I do not, for this is his land, not mine.” He turned silently and was gone in a blur of fluid movement, the subtle grays and greens of his clothing merging with the landscape in some uncanny way long before he reached the treeline.

David and Calvin waited, though Calvin took the precaution of jogging down to check on the uktena, being careful to shield his eyes from the fading glare of the ulunsuti. David simply sat, holding Alec’s head in his lap and wondering what to do; wondering how he would ever explain this to Alec’s parents if the worst happened; wondering, more immediately, what he himself would do should he lose his oldest and truest friend.

A moment later Calvin was back.

“So how is it?” David asked dully, inclining his head toward the crevasse.

“Dead—I think,” the Indian replied, squatting beside him. “At least it’s not moving, and the flies seem to agree, to judge by the way they’re already congregating.” He glanced skyward and frowned. “Buzzards too,” as a shadow slid across Alec’s body.

David nodded grimly and wiped his eyes.

“How’s the patient?”

A weary shrug. “Not moving—though I guess that’s not necessarily bad, since we don’t really know how bad he’s hurt.”

“He could feel pain, though. That’s a good sign.”

“I’m glad
something
is.”

Calvin picked up the remnants of Fionchadd’s shattered bow and began trying to rejoin the broken ends. “What do you suppose he meant there at the last? What was that bad thing he was talkin’ about?”