Nightlord: Orb (66 page)

I reached for contact with Firebrand.

He says we should wait a few minutes,
Firebrand relayed. 
If he’s not getting any better, then we can see if there are some humans around.  For now, he’ll drag some of the local wildlife over and use that.  But he wants you to make sure the tube-gate is closed, preferably without destroying it.
  Firebrand paused for a moment. 
Can you do that?  I mean, turn it off if it hasn’t run out of power?

“I think so.  Turning a spell off is easier than turning it on, right?”

He says it doesn’t matter which wire you cut…?
  Firebrand relayed, puzzled.

“Good.”  Mary moved off to handle that.  Bronze assisted, since Mary was also vulnerable to sunlight.  The tube-gate had already shut off, of course, but it never hurts to be sure.

I reached out with tendrils in all directions for the local wildlife.  Rather than charm them down, I grabbed one at a time, jerked it over to me, and sliced it open with what are only technically fingernails.  Blood soaked into the charred skin of my face and into my eyes.  Six squirrels, an owl, and a dozen bats later, I could see again.  Not perfectly, but I had vision.  I could also speak, so I used the power still welling up from the ground to cast a summoning spell.  Larger wildlife for miles around decided this was a good direction and headed our way.

Human blood would work even better, but unless some magi were conveniently close, alert, and able to get here before we left, I wasn’t planning on killing anyone, tempting though it was.  My face and teeth still hurt.

“What was that?” Mary asked, holding the deactivated tube.  “Did something attack you?  Like the thing Bronze stomped a minute ago?”

“Thing?  Did you burn the remains?”

“Bronze did.”

I patted Bronze’s neck.  She nosed my face with great care.  I winced and she was apologetic.  She didn’t like the smell of burned me, either.

“I’ve summoned some larger creatures—whatever’s native to the region.  When they show up, I’ll drink and see how much better I can feel.”

“But what happened?  Your face is still black, and a burned black, not your usual ash-grey.”

Reluctantly, I explained.  That wasn’t pleasant.  Mary didn’t laugh.  Maybe seeing the remains of my face kept it from being funny.  In a thousand years, I’m sure we’ll look back on this moment and laugh.  “Oh, remember the time when you accidentally looked at the sun?” “I sure do!  Man, that hurt!  Hahaha!”

Or maybe not.  Ow.  Even the
memory
of it hurts.

Over the next hour, my spell attracted a bobcat, four whitetail deer, and, much to my surprise, half a dozen wild pigs.  I’d heard about feral swine in the state, but I never expected to see one.  Most of the blood went on my face or into my hands, soaking through my skin and into my system.  I made it a point to deliberately bite—ow—and drink from the deer, however.  Blood applied directly to the injury seems to help more than simply drinking it.  In this case, drinking applied it directly to the injuries in my mouth.  Most of my tongue was intact, but the leading few inches were much happier after being bathed in the red stuff.

Important note: being set on fire by sunlight is worse than being shot, stabbed, cut, or even regular incineration.  It takes longer to regenerate, anyway, and it hurts more.  If I haven’t made that clear, let it be noted now.

Still, after an hour of recovery and several gallons of vampiric cure-all, I was feeling pretty much intact.  Sunrise was going to be ugly, though; I always sweat more after a hard night of regeneration.  I hoped we could find a working aqueduct and that Mary had packed some soap.  I know she brought the makeup kit. She put my human face back on, but the eyeball-covering contact lenses were gone—they probably burned when my eyes caught fire.  Pity.

We finished putting the gate together, mounted it upright, and I showed her how to monitor the charge level.  Then I picked up the tube-gate.  Mary stepped away.

“Are you going to fire the laser cannon again?” she asked.

“Not just ‘no,’ but ‘hell, no!’  I didn’t expect to have it open a portal on the far side aimed directly up into the sky.  I do need to open it to check the time over there and see if it’s safe, though.  Later.  And I’ll have it aimed
away
from my face.”

“That sounds moderately smart.”

“Implying?”

“Nothing?” she suggested, innocently.  “On the plus side, if we’re ever really screwed by the vampires, you can open one of those things somewhere in another time zone and pan fiery death around like a searchlight.”

Boss?

“Huh?  What?”

You’re sitting there staring at nothing.  Everyone is starting to worry.

Oh.  Right.  Sorry.  It’s just that she’s come up with a weapon of mass destruction that only affects vampires
, I thought back at Firebrand
.  That kludged-together spell on a piece of cheap plastic pipe could be used like some sort of laser bazooka.  I could shine the beam around in a crowd and the only damage humans would get are blisters from the flaming vampires!

I like it!  Does this mean we’re staying to fry vampires?

No!

What?  Aw, come on, Boss!  Why not?

Well, first off, because there are quite possibly thousands of them.  Second, this solar cooker takes a lot of magical power to operate.  Third, the ambient light causes enough backlash to set me or Mary actively on fire, as I’m sure you noticed.

Yeah, I noticed.  Sorry about that, Boss.  I’d have extinguished you if I could, but that’s not something I can really do.

It’s okay; I understand.  But this sunshine-at-midnight thing… this is something we do not need to mention to anyone.  Ever.

So tell
her
that, Boss.

And I did.  She nodded, thoughtfully.

“The local magi—can they do the gate thing?”

“I don’t know,” I admitted.  “Maybe.  If they can, it’s probably a week-long ritual with candles, incense, and some animal sacrifice.”

“So we avoid going to their places of power and they don’t get a chance to test it on us.  Sound fair?”

“I love the way you think.  Now, stand back.  I’m going to check the time.”  I put the tube over my shoulder and took aim at a tree.  Bronze moved behind me as Mary called out for me to wait.

I lowered the tube and waited, puzzled.  She brought out a blanket and sunglasses, the clever girl.  I happily put on the sunglasses before we wrapped the blanket around me and my head, leaving only a narrow slit to see through.  With the rest of me covered, I wasn’t light-proof, but I was much more light-resistant.  Ambient light might not be such a problem.

I fired up the tube-gate and shone it on the tree.  It was incredibly bright; it hurt even to look at it.  I shut off the gate and waited for my eyes to recover.  I could feel my eyes itching, a sure sign of regeneration, but they didn’t seem unduly warm, this time.

“Any idea what time it is over there?” Mary asked, from behind Bronze.

“None,” I replied, unwinding the blanket.  “Did that look like the light from high noon to you?”

“I was busy hiding.  How would I know?  Besides, I’m not sure we can tell the difference,” she pointed out.  “
Any
sunlight might look like scintillating death, whether cloudy day, morning, evening, or noon.”

It wasn’t noonday light,
Firebrand offered.  Bronze agreed. 
It was only ambient light, like a room with an open window.  Mary’s right; you two are just sensitive.

“Thanks.  We’ll have to keep checking,” Mary decided, “and you two can judge the light for us.”

You could stick me through the hole,
Firebrand offered. 
Or Bronze could look through.

“I’d rather not,” I told it.  “You’re both far too reflective for comfort.”

Good point.

“In the meantime,” Mary chimed in, “we’ve got power like crazy.  Want to do anything with it while we’re waiting?”

“I suppose,” I agreed.  “Let’s see what we can manage.”

It felt really good to be casting spells without scrimping and scraping to get enough power for them.  Mary and I walked through a number of my favorites.  She wasn’t going to remember how to cast them, but the exercise was still useful.  In the future, she would have some idea what was going on the next time she saw them.

I showed her how to be unnoticed, how to set up a basic scrying mirror, my brain-bunker mental shield, the disguise spells I used for appearing human—and stopped.  She loved the disguise spells.  It was like having magical makeup.  I suppose when you spend your time switching from innocent blonde to dark-haired jewel thief, you get tired of dye, head-shaving, and all that.

Which reminded me to grow my own hair back.  The sunfires gave me an impromptu haircut and cost me my eyebrows.  We went over the disguise spells in some detail and I let her practice while I put a heavy-duty hair growing spell on myself.

Mary impressed me.  She mastered the techniques of magical hair color pretty quickly, which wasn’t the simplest of the color-altering spells by any means.  Her hair switched through most of the rainbow for practice, along with her skin.  She even fiddled with her outfit and adopted several different camouflage color schemes.  She even started leaning up against trees while trying to mimic their colors and patterns.

She was a professional thief before.  Now she’s a professional thief and chameleon.  Nothing will be safe from her pilfering.  What have I done?

Because we were out in the middle of nowhere, there was very little ambient noise to distract me.  I heard the buzz of a propeller and searched the sky.  A drone flew overhead, rotors all a-whirl.  It might even be looking at us; the night-vision cameras on some models were really good.

Who was it?  Some kid at a campground?  Or someone with more nefarious purposes?  It was a rotor drone, so its top speed was limited.  It had to have been released somewhere relatively nearby—although it could fly almost anywhere to the limits of its power pack.  As long it was somewhere in cellular range, it could connect to the controller.

How to tell who the owner might be?  With sufficiently sophisticated equipment, we could track the signal back to the controller.  Or, if I cared to drag the thing down, I could do something similar with a spell.

On the other hand, whoever it was might not be innately unfriendly.  After a minute, it became clear they were obviously hovering over us and watching.  For all I knew, it might be a forestry service drone checking us out to see if we needed help.  Knocking it out of the sky might actually cause more trouble than not…

Mary, with a more normal color scheme, waved.  She was the only human-ish figure it could see.

The drone dipped, circled us once, and flew off.

“Forestry service?” I asked.

“No idea.”

“Let’s check the time.”

“Excellent idea.”

We dressed me for it, I opened the tube-gate, we flinched away from the light, and I closed the gate.

“Well?” I asked, addressing Firebrand and Bronze.  I heard the psychic whisper between the two as they conferred.

It’s much dimmer,
Firebrand reported. 
The sun is probably going down.  Try again in another half-hour.

“I’ll try.”

“Try?” Mary asked.

“A drone flew over.  Maybe it’s nothing, or maybe it’s a problem.”

“I see.  So, what do we do?  We can’t just pack up and leave—well, wait.  Could we?  I mean, if the plastic arch is all charged up and ready to go, can we pick it up and run?”

“We can.  I’d rather not.  Instead, let’s see if we can set up some magical defenses.”

“Ooo!  You have my attention!”

“First, let’s thread some twine, pour in some lighter fluid, and pack in the fertilizer.”

So we set up the chemical self-destruct before we went through the process of several more spells.  Detection, cloaking, shielding, deflection, absorption, grounding, disruption—all the usual things.  Mary likes cloaking spells, too.  She’s a much better sneak than I am; when she gets the hang of cloaking spells, even magical alarms might not notice her.

I kept expecting the buzz of a flying-wing drone.  Or the tromp of booted feet.  Or the hum and crunch of off-road vehicles.  Something.  And yet, there we sat on a constant upwelling of power while nobody seemed to notice.  I did check for scrying spells, but nothing showed itself.  I didn’t see any drones, either, not even at high altitude.  Satellites, yes, but you can’t tell what those are looking at.

We tried the tube-gate again; it didn’t seem too bright, but it felt
itchy
.  A good sign.  It was probably sunset.  We waited another ten minutes and checked again.  By then, the light was gone.

After a quick double-check of all our gear, we bounced aboard Bronze and made our run-up toward the gate.  It flickered, opened, and steadied down as a doorway to elsewhere.  We shot through and Bronze skidded to a halt on the uneven flagstones, turning, and I gestured at the Great Arch, closing the gate from this end.  As the image shivered and rent like a torn and burning curtain, sparks and flame appeared in the fractured image of the far side.  The gate on Earth burned away and the Great Arch was just an arch again.