Ellen Under The Stairs (27 page)

Looking ahead, moving a little forward
so she could see through the dust she had made by stopping, she saw
the ground ... become a hole.

Men were coming out, Platinia bending
low very much, making herself small so she could hide.

Men. White men. Tall men. Little
heads. Long arms and legs. Thin arms. Thin legs. Thin
fingers.

Quickly picking one to think about,
sifting through his mind, he was thinking about ... spiders. More
than thinking. He was ... causing the little spiders to do what
they did, this man having the little spiders spin webs around
John-Lyon.

John-Lyon spoke, but she was too far
back to understand what he said.

After that, the spider men -- for that
was what they were -- pulled John-Lyon until he fell. Began
dragging the Mage toward the hole in the ground.

She could see into the minds of these
spider men ... because they all thought alike ... all very much
afraid.

As quickly as she could, Platinia
followed after the spider men. Saw them drag John down into the
ground. Saw the hole in the earth close up.

Arriving at the hole that was no hole,
Platinia felt until she found the edge of the hole. Digging in her
fingers, she pulled up a ... flap ... the earth coming up easily to
show the hole again.

While the tall, tall men had to bend
over to enter, Platinia did not. Instead, she went down the hole,
turning to close up the earth door behind her.

Inside, there was a glow. It was the
walls. Glowing with a weak, blue light. But enough light to see
by.

Ahead -- the ceiling taller, taller --
the men were pulling John-Lyon, except that now, the inside of the
hole through the ground was covered by something soft. Soft and
springy.

It was the web of spiders, Platinia
thought.

Again, she thought the thoughts of the
men-spiders.

Afraid. They were afraid of the Mage.
Even though their little spiders had tied him up.

Picking through the tall mens' one and
only mind, she saw they were afraid of being ... broken. That if
they were to touch something ... hard ... their arms and legs would
break. That was the reason for the soft webs around the underground
hole. So that they did not touch something hard.

Fear was what they felt. Something
Platinia could strengthen.

Concentrating on their fear, Platinia
began to think it stronger. Stronger, still. Until the men pulling
John-Lyon let him go, the spider men running this way and that in
panic. Racing up the walls. Running across the ceiling.

It was easy for Platinia to do. Make
the spider men afraid.

They saw her now. But did not come
after her because they were afraid of her, too. Afraid of ...
everything.

Shifting her mind, she doubled their
fear of the Mage.

"Release me," she heard the Mage say,
John-Lyon also sensing the fear of the tall men.

And ... they did, spraying something
from their hands at the Mage, the webs fastened to him falling
away, the Mage standing.

Now, she was near the Mage. Then
beside him.

"Platinia," he said, surprised. But
was not angry.

"They will not hurt you," Platinia
said, not thinking of anything else to say. "They are afraid of
you."

"That does seem right. But how do you
know that?"

Platinia did not know what to say. It
was her secret that she was an etherial. That she could increase
someone's thoughts. Make they feel ... more.

"They are ...." What was that word
Platinia wanted? She tried again. "They ... break."

"Break?"

"They are men ... of ... glass." That
was not right, but what else could she say?

The Mage just looked at her with his
sharp green eyes. She tried again. "They break ...
easy."

"You're saying they're
fragile?"

That was a word that was better than
glass.

"Yes. Fragile. They break
easy."

"I can see that," said the Mage,
looking ahead of him at the many spider men, some tall men crouched
on the tunnel floor, some on the wells, some stuck to the ceiling.
All stopped. As if, by not moving, they could hide. "In such light
gravity they would grow tall but maybe not have strong bones.
Astronauts have to exercise a lot to keep their muscle and bone
mass. If they don't, they waste away in null gravity."

Platinia did not know what the Mage
meant. But that did not bother her. Often, she did not know what
John-Lyon of the green, green eyes, talked about. She was not
ashamed because others did not understand him, either.

Still speaking to Platinia, the Mage
said, "Let's see if we can get some answers."

Turning back, the Mage spoke to the
spider men, still stuck to the walls and floor and ceiling. "I am
the Mage of Stil-de-grain. I have great power."

Noise. A light noise. A fast noise.
The spider men ... talking.

"Stop," the Mage said in a loud
voice.

They stopped.

"You," the Mage said, pointing to the
nearest tunnel-man who was half-way up the wall; near to the Mage
because he could not get farther away since he was blocked by
others on the wall and on the ceiling over head. "You be the one to
answer my questions."

The spider man seemed to
understand.

"Do you have a leader?"

"It is to answer yes," squeaked the
man in a tiny, tiny voice.

Platnia had heard mice squeak louder
as they ran from cats.

"Lead me to him. I want to speak to
him."

And that is what they did. All of the
tunnel-men turning to walk away, some dropping to the floor, others
walking along the walls, some still on the ceiling. All going away,
the Mage following, but in a ... funny ... way. Bouncing. From the
floor to the ceiling and back down again, to bounce up, then down.
Up and down. Up and down.

Remembering to follow,
Platinia also bounced. To the ceiling, then back down. It was the
light pull of this Band. Also the webs, that were soft and ...
springy.

"Stop." The tall, thin men stopped,
looking back. "There's got to be a better way. How do you stick to
the floor and walls?"

"Stick we do, by this," said the same
spider man, waving his long arms. At least Platinia thought it was
the same one, the tall men all looking the same.

"Show me."

Though very much afraid, the
man-of-the-tunnel -- for that was what this long hole in the ground
was called, a tunnel -- came up to John-Lyon, bending down to show
his hands to the Mage.

"Secretion," said John-Lyon, another
mystery word. "Since we cannot do that," he continued, "there must
be some other way for us to walk. To stay on the floor."

Platinia could tell that the tall,
white man understood. Trying hard, she could also hear with her
mind that he was calling to the tiny spiders, the little ones
coming as fast as their many legs would work.

Not able to follow the fast speech of
the spider men, Platinia was still able to understand that they
wanted the Mage and Platinia to lift up their feet from the
floor.

"We are to lift up our feet from the
floor," she said to the Mage.

"How do you know that?"

"I know."

Believing her, John-Lyon pulled up his
foot, Platinia also. And quick, quick, the tiny spiders wrapped
webs around the Mage's shoes and around Platinia's
shoes.

Putting the wrapped feet down, lifting
their other feet, the spiders did the same, John-Lyon and Platinia
now having ... sticky ... webs that ... fastened them to the web
floor. But only until they wished to walk. Pull up, and their shoes
came loose, to stick again with another step.

"Good," John-Lyon said, the spider men
pleased they had made him happy. Platinia could see that in their
many-one minds.

And they were off, all walking on the
floor of the tunnel, the spider men leading.

Past big rooms. Rooms where tiny
spiders wove webs. Great sheets of webs.

Then, Platinia understood. The spiders
were making the silk cloth that came from The Cinnabar. The fine
Mage-cloth was made of Spider silk.

Rooms. Rooms. Rooms. Rooms.

Finally into another room with a
spider man sitting on a soft, silk chair at the other
end.

The Mage, now alone, walked to the
man, Platinia following. "I am John-Lyon, Mage of Stil-de-grain,"
he said.

"I am Mage Cryo," said the man in his
tiny, tiny voice, the man speaking so ... weak ... it was hard for
Platinia to hear him.

"I would speak to your King,"
John-Lyon said.

"King?"

"Your leader."

"Leader are we all."

"I don't understand."

"All together, leader are we," he
said, trying to explain.

"You have no King?"

"All King."

John turned to Platinia, a question in
his eyes.

"They think together."

"And what does that mean?"

"They have ... one thought. All
together."

"A group mind?"

Platinia did not know what a group
mind might be, but she thought maybe the Mage had
understood.

"All right," said John-Lyon, turning
to the spider man again. "I seek the evil Mage of Malachite,
Pfnaravin."

Fear! Platinia felt fear at that
name!

"Him, the Mage, I know. Kill
many."

"At the trading floor?"

"That is where he did," said the man's
tiny voice, the man waving his long arms very much.

"You tried to stop him like you did
me?"

Head bow, a little. "Others not to
come here."

"And he used his Crystal against
you."

Head bob. Agreeing. Very much
fear!

"Where is he now?"

"Down the land."

"Down land?"

Hand wave to agree.

"Can you take me to him?"

"down-light soon."

"After up-light?"

"You go. We stay."

"You won't be able to help? Is that
what you're saying?"

"Down the land. So no go.
Unsafe."

Platinia has heard others talk of down
land. It was the edge of the world. You could fall off.

"You have quarters where we can sleep
until up-light?"

"Yes."

"And food?"

"Yes."

"But you can't help with
Pfnaravin?"

"Tried. Very power much. Hope
...."

"That I'll get him for
you."

Was the Mage reading the spider-Mage's
mind? Platinia did not know. Knew only that, soon, John-Lyon would
be alone to fight Pfnaravin. So alone even Platinia could not
help.

Now, Platinia was afraid!

* * * * *

Though Pfnaravin had much to do to
control the situation, he was supremely confident he would seize
absolute power. With enough supplies to complete his mission, the
only possible worry was the drain on his own Crystal's force,
Pfnaravin still having to spend additional amounts of Crystal-power
to probe the mind of the girl companion of the pretend Mage. And to
maintain the ward-restraint necessary to keep the woman under
control.

Upon crossing the border into
Cinnabar, he'd had to use more Crystal-force than he'd intended.
First, to blast through the tough, silk lines thrown up to prevent
his penetration of the red band. After that, aware of movement
under ground, he'd needed to exert even more power to blast
whatever entities lurked below. And finally, it had taken extra
energy to smash off hunks of rock from the flat trading table, a
continued drain of Crystal-force needed to "attract" sizable
rock-shards to the bottom of his boots so he had weight enough to
walk in that lightly pulling band.

At last, he'd entered down-land -- the
conclusion of his plan. For here, the rust colored light was too
feeble for the pretend Mage, John-Lyon, to charge his Crystal,
light in this dismal place as lifeless as the bare stones under
foot.

His thorny eyes searching the terrain,
his hawk nose failing to pick up a hint of odor, he was confident
that even the daemon animals of down-light could not survive in
this dry dead place.

Spending an additional fraction of his
remaining Crystal-force, he probed the golden Gem of Stil-de-grain.
Was pleased, as before, to feel ... nothing. With the pretend
Mage's Crystal drained -- no chance in down land to recharge it --
what remained of Pfnaravin's power would be
overwhelming!

Fortunately, the men following
John-Lyon had stayed behind. For Pfnaravin did not know if he had
the Disk-energy left to wither them all. All that mattered now was
that he had sufficient force to kill the girl and the young Mage,
after that, move forward to pick up the dead Mage's Crystal, the
golden Gem of Stil-de-grain making Pfnaravin a double-Crystal Mage
of fearsome power!