Priestess Dreaming (An Otherworld Novel) (27 page)

“Paper covers rock.” Delilah tried for a joke but it fell flat, even in her voice.

I thought for a moment, then realized that I did have one weapon that could disrupt them. And if we needed it, I wouldn’t hesitate to use it. But first I wanted to see if we could put a stop to them without me dragging out the horn.

I glanced around. There wasn’t that much room in which to back up now, and as I sucked in a deep breath, the storm broke, and they scuttled forward again, and this time, the fight was on.

“Incoming!” Delilah called out. She held out Lysanthra, her dagger. But the look on her face indicated that she knew just how ineffective a long knife was going to be against a creature made of stone and crystal.

I quickly counted the number of our opponents. Thirteen. There was no way we could take them on and, even if they just used their tails to stab at us—even barring any venom—they constituted a deadly force. Fuck it. We needed to be in top form for whatever waited in the passage beyond them.

Reaching into my pocket, I tugged at the zipper and fumbled for the horn. As I pulled it out, both Bran and Morgaine gasped and I realized that neither had seen me wield it before now. Or, at least I didn’t think so. Bran—definitely not. Morgaine? Shaking my head—it didn’t matter right now who the fuck had seen me with it—I thrust it into the air and held it tightly as I closed my eyes, thrusting my consciousness inside the horn.

Time stopped—or rather, I stepped outside of time. I was inside the horn, standing in the middle of a room flanked by four giant mirrors that were a lot like display windows. A simple table and two chairs were centered in the small room, and a man sat in one of the chairs. He was seven feet tall, at least this time, with olive skin and long dark hair caught back in a ponytail.

“Eriskel, thank gods you’re here.” I was relieved to see him. We hadn’t spoken in a while, but he rose immediately.

Eriskel was the guardian of the horn. He was a jindasel, spun off from the soul of the Black Unicorn and yet a separate entity in his own right. Eriskel was quite capable of destroying anybody who attempted to use the horn if he decided they weren’t worthy. Which was the one saving grace if it should ever be stolen, except that I’d probably end up dead either way. Thieves after major artifacts didn’t tend to have much in the way of consciences.

“Camille—what do you need?” He wasn’t one for small talk.

“I need the Lady of the Land. We’re facing some sort of crystal creatures and I don’t think we have the means to fight them. We don’t even know what they
are
.” I glanced anxiously at the mirrors and they began to shimmer, the reflective surfaces fading.

To the east, I now saw rocky crags, high in the air, and clouds swirled around the peaks. A man dressed in pale leather flew in on a gust of air, flaxen-haired and tall, carrying a sword polished to a high sheen. Lightning crackled around him. He landed on the rock and bowed to me. I nodded back. The Master of Winds.

Turning to the south, I recognized the Mistress of Flames as she emerged from a rolling river of lava. Her hair, the jet black of hardened obsidian, flowed into the current of molten rock that formed her dress. Her eyes flashed neon white, surrounded by an orange ring of flame. She knelt in the billowing torrent that spewed from the center of the world, a feral smile crossing her face.

Again, I nodded.

To the west, the Lord of the Depths rose out of a rippling sea. His skin glimmered with an azure tint against a fading sunset, and he carried a bronze trident. He rose up so that I could see his torso. His scaled tail remained hidden beneath the waves. He laughed when he saw me and hoisted the trident overhead in greeting.

Once more, I acknowledged his presence, then turned to the north. Here would be the help I sought.

A woman with skin as dark as the soil sat on a rock amidst a verdant grove. Her hair was the yellow of fresh corn, and her eyes mirrored the same color. She wore a gown formed from leaves and vines, and carried an intricately carved wand. The protective energy of the oak spread through the mirror to surround me with a stable and secure feeling.

“Lady of the Land, I come seeking your help. I need you.” I didn’t have to say another word. She stood and raised her wand.

Behind me, Eriskel whispered, “Don’t use all of the horn’s energy on this. There’s no need for a maul when a tack hammer will do.”

And with that, I was back, holding the horn aloft, and I thrust it forward toward the advancing line of crystal creatures. A rumble sounded, beginning in the horn but rippling out to shake the cavern. Another moment and the vibration increased, setting the teeth in my head to hurting.

The others groaned. At least I was somewhat protected because I was wielding the horn. As the frequency shot up another notch, Delilah dropped to her knees, covering her ears, and so did the others, except for Bran, who was staring at me with a mixture of envy and fear.

“Shatter!” The word came ripping out of my throat, and it hung for a second, echoing before it swept in a rolling wave across the floor of the cavern, turning it into an ocean of rock and soil as it enveloped the crystal scorpions. They began to vibrate, darting back and forth.

The tremors crescendoed at an almost unbearable pitch, and the scorpions began to shatter, bursting apart in a flurry of powered quartz. The shards flew wild, but even as the others dove for cover, I held my ground. It was imperative I keep the momentum going, or it would end too soon and the energy would run wild, causing who knew what sort of damage.

Fragments of the breaking crystal pelted me, a number of the shards impaling my skin, but I forced myself to stay put. Fuck, though, the needle sting of the glass hurt. Last time I’d been through this, our opponent—a nasty-tempered sorcerer—had rolled me over a pile of broken glass. This was just a lovely reminder of what it felt like to be a pincushion.

At last, the shaking slowed, and the energy of the horn began to recede. I whispered a soft
thank you
to the Lady of the Land and slid the horn back in its secret pocket, zipping it up. I had used probably a third of the horn’s force, so we still had a powerful weapon if needed. But I felt wrung out, desperately wanting to nose-dive onto a sofa and rest.

Morio scrambled to his feet, but Bran was quicker to reach me. He eyed me up and down. “You okay?”

I glanced down. My cloak had deflected a number of the shards, but some had made it through. I gingerly unfastened the brooch as Delilah and Morio descended on me. She silently took my cloak over to one side and began to shake the glass off of it, while Morio examined me. I held out my arms. My hands—especially the one that had been holding the horn—were bleeding like a stuck pig. At least a dozen needles of glass were stuck in the skin.

A drop of blood dripped into my eye, startling me. As I blinked it away, I realized that my hair was filled with shards, too. And judging by the sting, several had landed on my cheeks and forehead.

“I could use some help.” I spoke cautiously, uncertain whether any glass had landed on my lips. The last thing I needed was to swallow something sharp.

Morio began to pluck pieces off of my face. “There are only a few here—but you are bleeding. Heads and hands always bleed heavier.” While he occupied himself with keeping the glass out of my mouth and eyes, Morgaine went around behind me and began combing through my hair.

“Bran, you and Mordred watch the entrance. We don’t want to be taken by surprise while we fix up Camille.” Morio went back to wiping the blood off my face with a handkerchief.

I didn’t ask if it was clean—at this point, I didn’t care. I just wanted to stop feeling like a store window in a bad part of town during a riot. I flinched as Tanne began to pluck glass from my hands and my fingers. Grimacing, I forced myself not to whine. I could snivel later when all the little scars were scabbing over and beginning to itch.

Finally I was denuded of crystal guts, and able to put my cloak back on, but all I could think of was how much I wanted a shower to wash away anything still clinging to me. Nothing had come through from the passage, and I was both relieved and a little worried over this fact. But then again, how many creatures could have withstood the onslaught of the quartz guardians? If there were further traps waiting for us, they weren’t likely to be right inside the doorway, so to speak.

Taking a deep breath, I turned to the others. “I hate to say this, but I really need food. I know we’re low on supplies, but I’m a little shaky. Not to mention bloody.” Though I had managed to avoid being pulverized by the shattering glass, I was streaked with the quickly drying blood. There wasn’t water enough to wash with, unless I wanted to use snow, and the thought of chilling myself after the magical exertion the horn had put me through didn’t seem like a good idea.

Morio dug into his pack and handed me half a sandwich. “Here, eat this. I also have a candy bar.”

Between the roast beef and the Snickers, the shakes started to subside. I was tired, though, and dreaded the thought of having to face anything stronger along the way. “Okay, we’ve cleared the path,” I said after a moment. “Now what?”

Morgaine gave me a mirthless smile. “We head into the dark.”

I wiped my fingers, took a swig of water, and stood. “Okay then, we don’t really have a lot of time to waste. Let’s get moving.”

And with that, we fell into our battle order and headed into the narrow passage in the newly revealed rock wall.

*   *   *

Unlike the outer passage, this one led down into the depths of the mountain. It was narrow and low, which didn’t lend well to my dislike of small enclosed spaces. Maybe we’d fought one too many battles in the dark, or maybe I just didn’t like feeling hemmed in—either way, the descent into the tunnel was anything but fun. At least the walls were lit with the same sort of jutting crystals that had lined the walls of the cavern.

“I wish this was more like Underground Seattle,” Delilah said.

“I was thinking just about the same thing. At least there the passages are wide enough to feel like you’re actually walking in what used to be a city street. This . . . all I can say is watch for viro-mortis slimes along the wall. This would be the perfect place for them to hang out.”

It was Delilah’s turn to let out a muttered “ick.” She hated the oozing jellies that mimicked the Blob, right down to trying to absorb the hosts they latched on to. They might be prettier than Steve McQueen’s black amorphous menace, but they were no less deadly, if a little slower on the uptake.

“Yeah, and we don’t have Smoky or Iris here to freeze them, either.” Delilah’s words echoed against the rock and she flinched and lowered her voice again. “Sorry.”

“It’s loud, isn’t it? Do you hear that dripping noise?” I could hear a faint
plink plink plink
, as if a faucet were dripping somewhere in the distance.

Morgaine, still leading the way, answered. “I hear it, yes. I’m not sure of what it is but do you notice how damp the air is getting?”

I sniffed. Sure enough, the air was laden with moisture. It was cold and damp, and I realized that I was getting a chill. There was nothing I could do about it unless I wanted to pull out my blanket and drape it over my shoulders, and I didn’t want it getting shredded if we ended up in another fight.

“Do you think we’re nearing an underground stream or something?”

“I don’t know, but . . . hold on.” She held up a hand and I stopped, motioning for the others behind me to follow suit. A moment later, she turned. “I sense . . . I can feel an energy that I haven’t encountered for a very long time.” She turned back to the tunnel and began to hurry forward.

Hoping she wasn’t possessed or under a spell—she was almost running down the descending corridor—I followed at a good pace. Not twenty more yards and the floor began to level out as up ahead the tunnel ended, leading to an entrance into . . . well . . . I didn’t know what. But it definitely opened into something else. Selfishly, I hoped it wasn’t just another passageway. I was getting tired of being underground.

As I reached Morgaine, who was anxiously waiting by the archway, she turned to me, an excited look on her face. I’d never seen her expression so animated. “We’re here. I think we’re here.”

“Where? Do you mean we’ve found the Merlin?”

She was practically vibrating. “I think . . . we have. And I think we’ve also found a door into one of the byways that leads to Avalon.” With that, she turned to plunge through the arch, and vanished from sight in a flash of light.

“Oh fuck! What the hell? Where did she go?” My first impulse was to rush forward, but I stopped myself, tentatively sticking the end of my staff through the arch. It crackled, and the energy raced up the staff to tingle through my fingers. But it didn’t feel dangerous. Instead, it felt inviting and warm.

I turned to look at Morio. “What should we do? I have no clue where she went other than through that doorway.”