Yesterday's Magic (13 page)

“You’d give up such a fine thing?”

“Gladly.”

In an instant, the girl was pawing through a cupboard. Soon the two moved into a shadowed corner, and in a flurry of giggles, the exchange was completed. Dressed in embroidered finery, the girl was soon laughing and spinning around in the crowded tent while Heather was sitting comfortably in fur-lined leather clothes that smelled heavily of goat.

“Watch out you don’t get too close to Blanche wearing that,” Merlin whispered. “One sniff and she’ll think you’re another meal.”

She cuffed him playfully. “You just try riding astride a dragon wearing a long flimsy dress. Besides, I don’t want anything that Morgan gave me. Mostly she gave me lies.”

“She’s the Mistress of Lies.”

The Mongol woman was busy passing out bowls of runny white stuff and hard white stuff. When Heather received her share, she tried not to wrinkle her nose. Both smelled and tasted of goat. The next course was greasy chunks of meat that definitely were goat. As they were eating and trying to nod their appreciation, Badrack came back into the yurt.

“Your dragon finished that whole goat in four bites. But she is polite. She thanked me, then said she needed to sleep.”

“She can be very civil when the mood strikes her,” Merlin said. “But don’t fear for your herd. We must be leaving first thing in the morning.”

The old man chuckled. “That is long hours yet. I beg you spend a short piece of it telling us of your travels. I sense there is much worth knowing. As I sense that you, despite your seeming youth, are very old in power.”

Merlin smiled at the man, who he felt was clearly a person of power himself. So, briefly he told their tale—about Arthur and Morgan, about waking the dragon, and about pursuing Heather through Baba’s underground city and Kali’s evil-drenched temple. Finally came their confronting the black dragon and deflecting the attack on Badrack’s herd.

During the tale, the old man sat with closed eyes, gently rocking back and forth. At the end, he nodded and looked at Merlin. “Your power and your peril are even greater than I sensed. You must indeed flee this land quickly, for pursuit already sniffs out your trail.” When Welly flinched and clutched at his sword, the man laughed. “Not that quickly. There is time for rest. But here we live in sight of the Beautiful Mountain, and the Mountain gives me vision to see what may be coming our way.”

Turning to his grandson, he patted him on the back. “Just as the Mountain has given Badrack hearing to reach even farther than I can see. He will make a fine shaman someday.”

The boy blushed and hung his head. “But I’d like to have real adventures like these folks have had—before I become a wise old shaman.”

Welly shifted slightly so as not to disturb Troll, who’d fallen asleep across his lap. “But you can do both. Look at Earl here. He gets into more trouble than anyone I know—and I suppose that’s another word for
adventure.
But he’s also as wise and old as they come.”

Merlin laughed. “
Trouble
is when it’s happening. It’s only called ‘adventure’ after you’re home safe and looking back.”

Troll opened one eye, then rolled over and curled up closer to the stove. “Then want this be
adventure
soon. Sleep now.”

Blankets and shaggy smelly skins were unrolled, and soon hosts and guests were stretched out around the edges of the tent. Sleepily Heather watched the mother poke more fuel into the stove and realized that what they were burning was dried dung. Well, she figured, she probably couldn’t get any worse-smelling, and at least she was dry, warm, and safe—for the moment.

She rolled over and tried to hold that warmth and comfort in her mind, but other images kept creeping in. She didn’t need the old shaman’s warning to sense they were being pursued. The horror of Kali’s temple seemed to have burned a hole into her soul. Through it, she felt a cold dark evil blowing ever closer. Shivering, she clutched at her bracelet for comfort, then curled into a tight ball, finally relaxing into troubled sleep.

M
OUNTAIN

T
hey woke to Badrack flinging open the door from outside and shouting, “The dragon’s gone! I went out to see if she could do with a lighter breakfast, but she was already flying off. She yelled back a message ‘for the doddering old wizard,’ she said. That’s you?” Badrack glanced questioningly at Merlin, who was trying to look more awake and alert than he felt.

“What was the message?”

“She said, ‘Biology trumps duty. So long.’ That was it exactly.”

Everyone in the yurt was now awake and looking at him as Merlin groaned.

“What does it mean?” Heather asked, afraid she already knew.

“It means that our Blanche has chosen to put aside honor and go off to seek a mate.”

“That black dragon?” Welly questioned. “But he tried to
kill
us—and her.”

Merlin shook his head. “That’s the way it is with dragons. Mostly they’re solitary and avoid their own kind. But they do find mates. And the more a dragon fights another, the more attracted they are to each other.”

“That’s crazy!” Welly said.

“Trolls same. But me no find lady troll even to fight.”

Merlin stood up, clumsily folding his blanket. “Some people are like that too. Look how Arthur and Margaret started out, snarling at each other like dogs. But this does leave us in a bad way.” He turned to the old shaman. “Are you certain that pursuit you feel is still tracking us?”

“Yes, and getting closer. The only thing you can do now is appeal to the Mountain.”

“How do you mean?” Merlin asked.

“I know nothing of the place you are from, but here in Mongolia, it is the
land
that has the power. It is felt in everything—the rocks, the grass, the rare venerated trees. The Devastation did not change that. Our people were always few and close to the land. Mostly, though, power is in the mountains. Our mountain here, our Beautiful One, has very great power. If you go to it, make the proper offerings, and ask its help, it may grant that help.”

After a moment, Merlin nodded. This wasn’t quite the magic he knew. It had a foreign accent. But it was familiar too. Magic of place was very old and very powerful. “Where is this mountain? Tell me its name so I can call upon it properly.”

All the locals looked alarmed. “No, no!” the shaman said. “Here you must never speak the name of a spirit as powerful as a mountain—not within its sight. That will anger it, and the greater the spirit, the greater the anger. To be safe, we call it only Beautiful One.”

“But we know its real name, don’t we, Grandfather?” Badrack said.

“As shaman, I do. And as my successor, so do you, though I will flail you if you speak it aloud—if the Mountain doesn’t do so first.”

By now, the travelers were all up and slipping on the jackets they’d removed in the warmth of the yurt. “We cannot thank you enough for your hospitality,” Merlin said. “I wish there was some way to repay it. But the best we can do now is to remove ourselves as fast and far as possible. If Morgan or her minions are indeed on our trail, they will not go easy on any who aided us.”

“Do not fear,” the shaman said, hobbling to the door. “I can shield us from such things. But you need to travel far and fast for your own sakes. Badrack, go fetch the camels. Our guests can ride them to the base of the Mountain, then set them loose. They’ll return on their own.”

As the boy ran out, the grandfather guided Merlin outside and pointed to a broad mountain across the grasslands to their west. Its bare white rock was blushing pink in the clouded dawn. “When you reach the base of the Mountain, climb to the top. There are paths of sorts. It is a powerful mountain, but also a faithful guardian and so not too high for people to climb. Once at the top, you will see a great pile of stones. There you must place offerings, each one of you, and walk around the pile from left to right—
not
the other way—three times while asking the Mountain’s help. Then climb down the other side. If help is to be offered, it will come.”

They all stood outside now, shivering in the dawn chill. From behind the yurt came a gargling roar. Badrack appeared leading two of the most amazing animals Heather had ever seen. At first she thought they looked like tall lumpy haystacks with legs. Then she saw that they were simply covered with shaggy tan hair. There were great wobbly lumps on their backs, and their arched necks ended in long sneering faces.

“Camels,” the shaman said proudly. “We are fortunate to have a pair. The tame ones died after the Devastation, but the wild ones survived, and we have tried to tame them again. Of all the herdsmen on the steppe, only shamans’ families have them now because they are too willful without a little power of control. You can do that, wizard?”

“Heather is best at that,” Merlin replied. “Animal magic is her specialty.”

“Ah, it is the same with my Badrack—that and his crazy voices. Go, then. Each of you powerful ones ride in front with one of your companions behind. That should keep the beasts in line.”

The camel that Heather and Welly were given snorted, spat, and backed away. But Heather reached into its grumpy mind.
Gentle now. Go with us on a ride over the grasses, feeling wind in your lovely hair. We are poor stupid things who don’t know the beauties of this place. Take us to the Beautiful Mountain. Show us what a magnificent place you are lords of. We hardly weigh anything—not to a strong creature like you.

The creature didn’t deign to answer but snorted and folded itself down so they could clamber onto its back, Heather between the neck and the first shaggy hump and Welly jammed between the two humps. Then the camel suddenly rocked back and forth and stood up, nearly catapulting its riders off.

Welly yelped, and Heather felt the camel’s smug mental laugh.
Oh, clever trick,
she thought back, trying to keep annoyance out of her mind. She looked over and saw that Merlin and Troll were also mounted, though their camel seemed to be giving them even more grief.

At the door of the yurt, the family watched with smiles. For the first time, the dog had crawled from its hiding place and joined them. Scurrying forward, the mother and daughter handed each traveler a leather bag of lumpy things. From the smell, Heather feared it was more of the hard goat cheese. Then the woman reverently handed Heather another bundle, a red-clay jar sealed with leather.

“It is our best goat yogurt. Sprinkle it on the stones while you circle them as your offering.” Heather thanked her, glad that she wasn’t required to eat it herself.

The grandfather raised a hand. “Ride and climb swiftly. If you respect the Mountain’s power, it will respect yours. Go!”

Both camels erupted into a rolling swaying gait that had Heather wishing she hadn’t eaten all that goat stuff the night before. It still sloshed uncomfortably in her stomach. Then she was diverted by a voice in her head. Badrack’s.

May your troubles turn to adventures soon. Let’s talk when we can.

Smiling, Heather thought back,
Yes, let’s. And may you find some adventure that’s not too troublesome.

I’ll do my best. Soon too, maybe.

For all their awkward appearance and painful gait, the camels covered ground swiftly. The brittle grass crunched beneath their broad hooves, and gradually the white mountain loomed closer. Above it, the sky stretched, a rare pale blue. Heather was always a little awed when the high dust thinned enough to show that color. She thought again what the world must have been like when a clear blue sky was normal. But if what the old shaman had said was true, this part of the world hadn’t changed that much. These grasslands had never hosted cities, and the sparse wandering herdsmen had attracted no bombs. She could understand how these people would live close to the spirits of their land.

Slowly the white mountain began to fill all their view. But at the first hint of rising ground, the camels came to a stubborn halt.

Told to go to base of mountain,
Heather’s said into her mind.
That’s here. Get off.

Doesn’t a little politeness go with your taming?
Heather asked as she gestured for everyone to dismount.

What taming? We’re just hanging out with those people be cause the food’s better.
With that, the two shaggy camels turned and loped back toward the yurt, which was now a distant white speck.

“They could have taken us a little ways up,” Welly grumbled.

Heather shook her head. “I don’t think my mind could have taken the complaining. Let’s just walk.”

They soon found the base of a worn trail that etched its way up the mountainside. As they climbed, the way got steeper and sometimes disappeared among tumbled pale rocks. But then they’d see its sketchy line continuing farther on and, after much awkward scrambling, rejoin it. Troll seemed to have no trouble scampering over the rocks, and Merlin with his long legs had fairly easy going. Heather struggled to keep up with him.

Welly, despite his constant warrior workouts at home, still found this sort of exertion hard on his plump frame. Straggling along behind everyone, he had slapped his hand onto a rock to hoist himself up when he heard an ominous rustle. Alarmed, he squinted through sweat-smeared glasses.

“Snake!” he cried, and pulled back his hand, nearly losing his balance.

Heather looked back and saw the gray chevron-marked snake coiled and glaring at Welly. He scrambled back farther. “Are they poisonous around here?”

It didn’t take much mental probing for Heather to find the answer. “Yes, and proud of it. I’ll try to get any nearby snakes to move out of our way.”

She didn’t know how many might be around, so she just broadcast,
Snakes, out of our way! Now!

The effect was startling. In an explosion of rustling and slithers, snakes and lizards seemed to scuttle over every rock on the hillside.

“Oh,” she said aloud. “Overdid it a little, I think.”
Sorry. Just leave the four of us alone, okay?

The flitting stopped, and Welly proceeded nervously up the mountainside after the others.

Several hours later, they staggered up to the summit. Wind chilled their sweat-soaked bodies, and by then everyone’s legs were quivering. Sinking down onto flat boulders, they stared at the tall conical pile of rocks at the mountain’s tallest point. Among the fist-sized rocks were scraps of cloth, glinting pieces of ancient glass, and skulls of goats and horses.

Finally Merlin stood up. “All right, everyone needs to make an offering, something of value presumably, and walk three times around the mound clockwise praying for help. There’s no point in not believing. So much has happened lately and so many beliefs have been intersecting, I’m willing to believe anything if it works.”

He walked over to the mound and, after a moment’s thought, removed a ring from his hand. Queen Margaret had given it to him last Yule. It was an old silver ring she’d found at an antiques shop and chosen because it was engraved with a capital
M.
With a sigh, he placed it in a high rocky niche and began circling the mound.

Welly reluctantly unwound the blue and white scarf he always wore around his neck. The cook’s assistant back in Keswick had knit it for him before they left on their long quest to unite Britain. He’d often thought fondly of her when he put on the scarf but was sure that by now she’d taken a fancy to someone else and was probably happily married. He sighed and, reaching up, wrapped the now-grubby scarf around a projecting stone and started around the mound. He’d miss not so much the scarf as the dream it represented. But this was proving to be a very big world. There had to be a girl out there for him somewhere.

Troll sat at the edge of the mound fingering his prized plastic necklace but unable to take it off. When he’d finished his own triple circuit, Merlin knelt down beside him. “The more something is valued, the more worthy the sacrifice. Surely the Mountain will see how much you are giving up.”

“Troll see too. Best thing ever had.”

“When you get back to Britain, you’ll be a hero. Arthur and Margaret will give you something even more splendid. But first we have to get back there. And maybe parting with your necklace will make the difference. It’s the heroic thing to do.”

Troll’s sigh reached to his toes. “Being hero hard thing.” Slowly he stood up, pulled the necklace over his head, flung it to the very top of the mound, and began trudging around.

All this time, Heather had been sitting on the same rock she’d first collapsed onto, the pot of goat yogurt waiting beside her. Her eyes rested on the distant horizon, where an ominous black cloud was rippling over the grasslands. Her mind was filled with Badrack’s voice. They were talking now, but it was the first call that had frozen her to the spot.

I tried to trick her but don’t know if it worked. She knows where you are and is coming fast! Flee!

What happened? What did you do?
Heather had asked.

As soon as you left, I rode south. I guess Grandfather was right—I could feel evil flowing from there. I rode as fast as I could, and then I saw it. Like a sooty cloud in the sky. I kept riding till it was over me. And then I looked up. And waved.