Sorcerer Rising (A Virgil McDane Novel) (41 page)

I nestled the rifle against my shoulder, took sight and pulled the trigger. A pink beam lanced through the can of beans the asshole was holding. The men shouted, all coming too, weapons ready.

“This right here,” I said, making sure everyone could see the glowing rod that was the barrel, “is pretty much the same thing your boss is carrying around on her hip. Don’t know about you, but I’ve never seen a weapon like that.” I eyed Arne. “Some new invention, probably being developed for whatever military is willing to pay the most. Right?”

Arne hesitated. “That is a possibility. It is still in development.”

I tossed the rifle in front of me. Then I added the two orbs he’d used to make the force field. “This stuff, a weapon we just now developed, a tool we’ve never even seen, they’re not in development. They’re not prototypes.

“They were standard issue.” I pointed back at where we’d buried the Neanderthal. “That guy was a soldier.”

“Ain’t no damn Neanderthal army,” one of the men muttered.

“That’s what you think,” I said.

“How come we ain’t ever seen em?” another asked.

“Because they don’t like us,” I replied. “We chased them into the Hollow Earth before memory. What, you think their culture stopped developing afterwards?”

There was silence for a moment.

Then Arne said, “If they were that advanced, humanity would have been conquered long ago.”

“Or they just don’t give a shit,” I replied. “Probably because they’re too busy with the Lizardmen.”

“Who’d of thought,” said the first guy, “The Rainbow was started by cavemen.”

I frowned. “No. That’s not it at all.”

“What?”

“That’s why we’re heading back and not taking another step into this jungle. I don’t know why a Hollow Worlder was here. Or a yeti. I
do
know the Arcus was reported in Tibet. The yeti hadn’t been here long, they can’t handle the heat. It would have died within a few weeks.”

“Then why are we heading back?”

“Because we stumbled into a collection,” I said. “I’d rather cut the tour short.”

I ran my hand over the stone. The ward flickered to life, glowing dimly. I drew Abigail and held her over the stone. This time the ward flared brightly, an angry red glare. The air around me hummed dangerously.

I drew back and it faded.

“What is it?” Arne asked.

“It’s some type of ward,” I said. It was a tall, egg shaped stone wedged into the side of the hill beside the open mouth of a cave. “It’s meant to protect against magic.”

Al
, I said.
Take a look at this.

After a moment, I felt him drop into my left eye.

Wow,
he said.
Isn’t that pretty
.

Not the point
, I replied.
Is it Celtic or not?

Aye,
he replied.
It’s an early dialect, but I think it means danger.

I rubbed my face. That confirmed what I was thinking.
Thanks
.

“I think this is Druidic,” I said to Arne.

“Impossible,” the robot replied. “The Druids have been gone for two millennia.”

“Yeah,” I said. “One of the first groups to be exterminated by the Guild, but this looks like their work. Or, some type of witchcraft, from what I know.”

“Druids were not Witches,” Arne said.

“No, they weren’t, but what we know as the Coven is just the surviving splinters of all the covens exterminated by the Guild. I don’t know much about the Craft, but this design looks like some of the stuff I’ve seen them use.” I paused. “Arne, this could be the entrance to the Arcus. I need you to go in there and check it out.”

He hesitated. “I think not. You can go in there.”

“I can’t,” I said, holding my hand over the ward. “My magic barely registers, but it registers nonetheless. Whatever it is that protects this entrance, it will vaporize me the moment I step through the threshold.”

Arne took a step back. “I will not endanger myself in such a manner.”

I frowned. “You seemed to handle yourself pretty well against the Neanderthal. I think you’ll be fine.”

He stepped back again, but I grabbed his arm and yanked. Strong as he was, leverage can do wonders. He stumbled toward the cave.

And the runes flashed to life, brighter and angrier than before.

I took a step back. “What the hell?”

Then something crawled up from the cave, dark and nasty. It was a thin figure with skin like oil, white, glossy hair spilling from its taught scalp like spider web. I couldn’t tell if it was male or female, but it had fine, elven features and was dressed in a black robe. The creature had no eyes, only sightless holes.

“Maybe not, Arne,” I said.

“What is this?” he asked.

“I believe it is one of the Tuatha,” I replied. “They haven’t been seen in quite some time. The Druids killed them out supposedly.”

The creature smiled and said something in Gaelic.

Uh, Virgil, you might want to leave that alone. The thing just threatened to pull your intestines out your ass and feed them to you in a continuous circle of torment that will last until the dusk of Creation.

“Well, fuck you too,” I said to the Tuatha.

An explosion sounded in the distance.

“What was that?” I asked.

“A subsonic blast from the sound of it,” Arne said. “I believe it came from the direction of the other groups.”

“We need to head back,” I said.

I gave the Tuatha perfect sight of my middle finger, then headed back to the camp and started gathering everything up.

Al
, I said.
Have you cracked the code on Arne’s message yet?

No,
he replied.
It took like ten minutes to figure out Morse, but it makes no sense. It’s complex, a series of intricate encryptions-

Yeah, yeah, yeah,
I said.
Just let me know when you’re done.

Something new?

I don’t know. I pushed him toward that ward, and for the life of me I don’t know if it lit up in reaction to the Tuatha, or to him.

CHAPTER TWENTY-FIVE

We made it back
just a few minutes before the others. James’ group was bedraggled and rough looking, and by the looks of it, missing two of its members. Dorne’s was better by far, but he himself was riding one of his constructs.

“There is something deeply disturbing about this island,” Dorne said once we were in Lambros’ tent.

“Yeah, I think we all noticed that,” I replied. “What did you run into?”

“Fucking plant killed two of my people,” James said. He was scowling, a new cigarette in his mouth. But he patted Simon on the shoulder. “If not for this guy, we wouldn’t have made it back.”

Simon still looked rough, though he’d put on a few pounds. His eyes were haunted, and he twitched when anyone else talked. Still, he smiled.

“Some type of mandrake,” he said. “Never seen a curse like that.”

“Just a mandrake?” I asked.

“Something had been done to her. She had a grove tied into her magic, was controlling all the plants in the area.” He tapped his ears. “Luckily, sound doesn’t get to me too bad.”

I shook my head. “Well, that’s just the tip of it. We ran into a Neanderthal, a Yeti, and a Tuatha.”

Dorne let out a low curse, one of the first I’d ever heard him utter. “This is a place of horrors. How did you survive the Tuatha?”

I watched Arne out of the corner of my eye. “It’s behind some type of Druidic ward.”

Diana, who had been silent, cursed. “We need the island mapped. We can’t turn back now.”

James took a step forward, but before he could speak, Dorne held up his hand. “That is not all. I have something to show everyone.”

He walked out of the tent, leaving everyone to follow. His construct was still up. Now that I looked closer, I realized it was bigger than usual, veins of hard metallic ore crisscrossing its chest like ribs.

Or a cage.

Dorne snapped his fingers and the construct dissolved, collapsing into ordinary earth without his Aether to mold it.

A figure fell to our feet.

Simon backed away, whimpering, holding his hands over his ears. “No, no, no!”

James and I drew our weapons, even Lambros had her gun drawn. Dorne held up his hand. “He’s no danger.”

Lucas Gulo was huddled in the dirt, naked except for a pair of torn shorts. Looking closer, I realized something was deeply off with the lycanthrope. His face was malformed, as if his bones didn’t match. Hair grew in odd clumps along his back and chest. One eye was staring off, deep red, while the other was frantic, still human.

“We found him in the jungle,” he said. “In a cave, similarly warded. Not Druidic though, Egyptian.”

I sneered at the
lycanthrope. “Why the hell did you bring him back here?”

Dorne sighed. “Gulo, can you hear me?”

The lycanthrope shuddered, a ripple playing across his skin. His face extended, his top jaw growing into a snout while the bottom stayed human. His arm twisted and writhed, filling with muscle while the bone underneath refused to change.

“My God,” Lambros said.

“What the hell is wrong with him?” James asked.

“His curse has been tampered with,” Dorne replied.

I holstered Abigail. “Son of a bitch, you’ve got to be kidding me. What the hell is this place?”

Simon jumped forward, leveling a kick into Gulo’s ribs. “Damn you to hell! You deserve everything
you get you sorry piece of shit!” He held out a hand, Aether forming in his palm.

Before he could cast the spell, Dorne reached out and grabbed him by the back of the neck.
Immediately, he fell limp.

“Take him to his tent so he may rest,” he said. “He will be fine.”

“What do we do about him?” James asked, his gun still pointed at Gulo.

“I can think of a thing or two,” I replied.

“And you were angry at me for killing the Neanderthal?” Arne asked.

“When you could have restrained him, yes. If he was a danger afterward, I’d have killed him myself.”

“Enough!” Lambros said.

She had gone back into the tent without us noticing and was listening on the radio. She cursed, pulling the headset off and throwing it on the table.

“Diana?” Dorne asked.

She ignored him, storming past us all, a pair of binoculars in hand. She peered through them, toward the ocean. “You wanted to wait, congratulations. We will be waiting with company.”

I looked out over the ocean. A large ship had joined our own.

“Who is it?” I asked.

“The Coleman expedition,” she said, adding a curse again.

“Shit,” Dorne said beside me.

“What?” I asked.

He was frowning, looking out to the ocean. “Virgil, that is the other expedition the Guild took on.”

Jeremiah Coleman was as American as they come, dressed in blue jeans and a button down shirt, the sleeves rolled up. He had a heavy gut, but otherwise could only be described as burly. A thick, red mustache covered most of his mouth, the only hair on his head.

“We ain’t going nowhere, Missy,” he growled at Lambros, his face reddening. He was leaning over the ship’s conference table, wide hands planted on its surface.

I put my hand over my mouth to hide my smile. The look Lambros gave him would have cowed Medusa.

“Mr. Coleman, I assure you, I am not requesting you leave the island. I am simply requesting you move your expedition to the other side, as we are clearly involved here.”

“I’ll bet!” he shouted, slamming a fist on the table. “The village is here! The biggest village! If there is anywhere the Arcus will be found, it is
here!
”

“Mr. Coleman, calm yourself,” said the Wizard sitting next to him, his smooth London accent a balm to the blustering Texan’s. “Ms. Lambros is simply trying to do her job, allow me to do mine.”

I felt my own face redden, listening to him speak. Cecil Lancaster was, simply put, the perfect Wizard. He was tall and dashing, his face perfectly shaved, his blonde hair perfectly combed. He was dressed in a freshly pressed, blue pin-striped suit, vest and all, with a fine golden tie and gold collar bar underneath. Gold cufflinks with the sigil of the Guildhouse of England poked out from his cuffs.

His staff, a perfectly carved example of Ash, with runes and all, was leaning against the wall behind him.

When he addressed us, his eyes were set on Dorne. “Come brother, let us discuss this. Let us show each other the professional courtesy the other deserves.”

Dorne’s face was expressionless. He said nothing, his hands neatly folded in front of him on the table.