The elder shamans dropped hands and broke their circle. Still dancing and chanting, they moved outward toward the greater circle. Their dragging right feet traced spokes to the wheel of the dance and the wheel turned around them.
When a dancer faltered in his step, a shaman wearing a bear skin was there. As the dancer tottered, the shaman stepped before him, hands weaving and capturing the dancer’s gaze with hypnotic magnetism. The dancers circled, and the bear shaman moved with the exhausted dancer, twirling a feather before his face and chanting, “Hu! Hu! Hu!” The dancer staggered free of the circle and stumbled toward the shaman. Panting and groaning with exhaustion, the dancer followed the shaman, who led him to the foot of the sprouting tree. Sam’s gaze was drawn to the glassy stare of the drawn, pale dancer. Muscles twitching, the dancer bowed to Sam.
Beneath the sprouting tree, Sam opened his arms wide to accept the dancer. The man shivered once and pitched forward, his spirit soaring free. Power flashed laser-bright through Sam. His back arched in the agony. When his back muscles relaxed, he hung his head and wept.
The Great Ghost Dance gathered strength.
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Neko couldn’t go on without checking. He told himself that he had to make sure his rear was safe. For all that their partnership had been brief, he owed Striper vengeance. Of course, he also needed the satchel she carried if he were to complete this run, which honor and personal pride bound him to do. Cautiously, he moved up to the corner. A faint slapping sound was irregularly audible. Weapon ready, he eased around.
Instead of victorious guards, Neko found himself face to face with a languid Striper gathering weapons. The dark leather satchel swinging against her hip was the source of the sound. It was the one intact thing she wore. Her clothes were in tatters and she was covered in gore, but she seemed unconcerned as she picked up weapons from among the bodies of the warlord’s unfortunate troops.
Neko shifted his stare from his miraculously intact partner and considered the fallen guards, who looked as though they’d been torn apart. No knife, sword, or spur had made those wounds, that Neko was sure of. For all her seductive allure and feline grace, Striper was far more than she seemed.
It had to be magic.
Neko preferred to avoid those who dabbled in the arcane, but he was glad she was on his side. Considering the carnage she had wrought here, he would rather have faced one of the bug men than her.
He shook himself free from the hypnotic fascination of the bodies to find Striper watching him. Her face was made strange, almost alien, by the decorative face paint from which she obviously drew her street name. The harsh light of the overhead panels threw her eyes into shadow. One corner of her mouth quirked up into the ghost of a smile. A fugitive shaft of light touched the shadows under her brow and reflected red from her eyes.
Neko had never believed in demons, but now he thought the issue might be an open question.
“We’ve got biz,” she said softly.
Unwilling to trust his voice, he nodded.
She moved past him at a lope, and he hurried to catch up. He trusted her to spot any opposition. Curiously, such a surrender of vigilance didn’t bother him. She was more than competent. Could it be he had come to trust her? Or was he under her spell? He was still wondering when they reached the missile silo.
The tall cylinders housing the long-range missiles marched off into the darkness in serried rows. It was a technological forest, an orchard whose fruit was death. The old terror that had haunted generations lurked here, magnified and somehow made perverse by the silence and cleanliness of the chamber. Death should not be sanitary, nor should it be so easy to send, especially by someone who could hide away from the consequences of his actions. He did not know why the American elf and his partners wanted this abomination neutralized, nor did he really care. He just hoped their fix was going to be a good one.
“As you said, we have biz,” he said, pointing to the satchel hanging at Striper’s side.
It was her turn to nod. She shifted the Kang to her left hand and dug her right into the satchel. She came up with a handful of gritty substance that she flung into the air.
Neko experienced a moment of absolute disbelief. Had he been suckered by madmen? Then his incredulity drowned in awe when the dust ignited and whooshed into the depths of the silo chamber like a comet.
It was no small relief to him to see that Striper appeared as astonished as he.
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Another dancer was led to the sprouting tree. It was easier for Sam to take the sacrifice the second time, but no lighter a burden. The crystalline spirit sparked the dance’s energy higher. With a prayer of thanks, Sam took the gift and used it.
In a distant place, dust sparked to fire and swirled through the air. The fire sped on a swirling dance of its own through a night-dark forest of sleeping giants. It touched each leviathan of death, leaving behind a crackling fragment of itself. Everywhere it rested, flames sprouted. Roaring and climbing, they enveloped whatever they touched, covering it with the energy of the dance.
What had been, was no longer.
There was hope.
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The fight to get to the missile compartment had been brutal. Ranges were short within the confines of the submarine, and the runners had been forced into physical combat too often. They had lost Long Run and Fast Stag before they could gauge the danger of the insect men. Bullets didn’t seem to have much effect on them, which Janice thought was because of a protective Spider presence hovering astrally around them. The reduced effectiveness of the weapons made her and Tsung, as magicians, the runners’ most potent offense. Fortunately, Spider’s minions only made short rushes, followed by retreats. Had the monsters sustained any of their attacks, they would surely have overwhelmed the runners.
When she commented on that to Ghost, he had said, “They don’t know any more about us than we do about them. Unless we tell them, they’ll never know how close they are to taking us. But then, there may not be many more of them either.” The growing volume of chittering and constant scrape of chitin on metal made a lie of that hope.
The last skirmish had brought them to the edge. Janice had taken no crippling wounds; she would be fine shortly. Already the gashes were closing. Seemingly invulnerable as his namesake, Ghost was untouched, too, but Kham and Parker were both wounded. When Tsung had been staggered by a magical blast that seemed to come out of nowhere, Janice had barely been able to deflect the swirling energies and dissipate the mana before the ravening energy would have consumed the mage. As it was, Tsung’s flesh was purpling from subcutaneous bruises and her nose and ears were bleeding. She wouldn’t be in any shape to resist another attack.
But they had reached the missile tubes.
For the moment, the bugs seemed to be considering their next strategy. Now that they had an active magician on their side, Janice doubted they would remain inactive for long. Kham wandered down the line of silos, rapping each with his cyberarm.
“Why not just pull de arming devices and take dem with us?”
Ghost shook his head. “Burdened, we’d never make it back.”
“May not anyway.” Kham spat. “Won’t for sure if we stay put. Dose tings are massing for anudder attack.”
As though in confirmation of his words, a sudden scuttling sounded aft. The runners dropped into defensive crouches and pointed weapons. Janice strained her senses; the noise did not seem to be the beginning of a new attack. Kham cursed.
“Frag it, Ghost! We’re hosed.”
Though the Indian appeared to be listening, it was obviously not to the ork’s outburst. “They’re not coming yet. We’ve still got to set the spell.” He straightened from his crouch and moved forward to the engineer’s station. Looking up, he asked, “Can Rabo bring the Searaven around to this maintenance hatch?”
“Yeah. Take time, dough.” Kham spat again. “We ain’t got dat.”
“Well, get him moving,” Janice snapped. She was tired of the ork’s constant complaints.
“I don’t take orders from you, furball,” Kham snarled.
“Just do it,” Tsung said weakly.
The ork grumbled under his breath, but slapped open the toggle that activated his comm link. He passed the orders to Rabo. The two orks exchanged a flurry of half-intelligible comments spiced with frequent profanity. Kham finished his conversation with the rigger by snapping, “Just do it.” He limped back up the gangway. “What’s to keep dose tings from spoiling de spell if we pull out?”
“Nothing,” Ghost said.
“I say we set the spell and go,” Tsung said. “We can always try again another day.”
“Sounds good,” Kham agreed quickly.
Ghost sighed. “There will be no other day. The magic must be used tonight.”
“Since when did you become an expert?” Tsung drawled.
“He’s right.” Janice hefted the beaded pouch in her hand. “If it’s disturbed before the dance reaches the right phase, the magic won’t work.”
“And how long’s dat?” Kham growled.
“Too long,” Janice said. “The bugs will come.”
“Drek!” Kham slammed his fist into a bulkhead. “I didn’t sign on for a suicide run. I gotta wife! Kids! Dey ain’t gonna make it out dere widdout me. You know what happens ta ork kids dat ain’t got no daddy?”
Ghost seemed about to say something, but held his peace.
Janice had never thought that the ork might have a family. She could see that he was truly concerned for them. She knew what it was like to be an ork. Thinking about growing up as one made her see Kham in a new light.
Silence fell on the runners. Distant scrabbling kept them nervous, but the bugs didn’t attack. Janice walked the gangway, chanting and scattering the dust from the pouch. Ghost walked with her, chanting the words along with her. Two minutes after they finished, the hull rang as the Searaven nudged up to the Wichita’s aft maintenance hatch.
“They’ll have heard,” Parker said.
Kham looked up at the hatch glumly. “So he made it. Ain’t gonna do us any good unless we go now.”
Ghost touched Kham on the arm. “Tell Rabo not to open the hatch unless he’s sure it’s for one of us. If we can hold them long enough, some of us might get out.”
“Ain’t gonna be any of us left! You keep us here, and de bugs are gonna pick our bones. Where’s your bleeding magic gonna be den?”
Janice stood and straightened as much as she could. “They may have waited too long to come for us. The Dance will be reaching its peak soon. “Some of us could board the Searaven now. The higher position will let somebody shoot down on any bugs coming from forward. Be a nasty surprise for the bugs. Then, if we can’t hold the missile bay, at least some could get away.”
“Your plan ain’t the best, but the time is getting closer,” Ghost said. “Since the wounded will be of little use in a fight, they will board the Searaven now.”
Tsung forced herself to her feet and confronted Ghost. “Making like a hero, Indian?”
“Go, Sally. This is no time to talk.”
“Was there ever?” She searched his eyes for a moment, then kissed him. “Crazy AmerIndian.”
She climbed up the ladder and crawled through the hatch into the Searaven.
Kham shoved Parker toward the ladder. “Let’s do it den. Move, move!” He stood with one foot on the first rung while the other ork climbed. Parker cleared the ladder, but Kham hesitated. He lowered his foot back to the deck and put his back to the ladder. Without looking at Janice or Ghost, he popped the magazine on his AK97, checked to see it was full, and snapped it back in. Janice could smell the fear on him, but it was clear that despite his previous bleating about leaving, he was planning to stay.
“Why?” she asked.
Without looking at her, Kham said, “It’s bad growing up widdout a dad, but it’s a lot better dan not growing up at all.”
“You’re wounded, too. You won’t fight well,” Ghost observed.
“Orks is tough,” Kham said with a shrug.
“But they bleed and die like any man,” Janice said. The bugs’ timidity had lasted longer than they had any right to expect. Every minute meant less of a need for sacrifice. “There’s no need for either of you to stay. I’ll hold them back.”
“I will stay,” Ghost said.
Janice shook her head. “No, Wolf. Take Kham and go. You have other prey. There’s also a dog who needs someone to look after him.”
“He won’t want to see me without you.”
That might well be true. She could imagine Sam’s face when he learned that she had done this. Since they had found each other again, she had been so selfish. How could she have forgotten what it meant to be human? “He won’t appreciate you’re throwing yourself away.”
“The same holds true for you. He hopes to make you better.”
“I may already be better.” She laughed. “I’m sure that I’m better at fighting these bugs than you. Their claws do no permanent damage, and my magic wounds them more than your guns. Go, Wolf, while there’s still time.”
They stared into each other’s eyes for what seemed an eternity. At last, Ghost nodded slightly. “I will sing for you, Wolf shaman.”
Kham and Ghost climbed into the Searaven, and Janice reached up behind them to close the Wichita’s hatch. Gripping the wheel with both hands, she used her strength to wrench it out of true. The bugs wouldn’t be getting through that anytime soon.
A tingle in the mana flow told her that the insect magician was stirring at last. Maybe he sensed that his prey was escaping.
A sharp clacking announced the onslaught. The bugs rushed into the compartment from both ends, but she was ready. Mana bolts ripped through the leaders of each pack. The magician’s spells splintered on her defenses.
Janice reached deep into herself and took the mana in her hands, howling her defiance at Spider.
It was time.
Wolf wins every fight except her last.
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Grey Otter was the next dancer to be brought before the sprouting tree. Tears coursed steadily down Sam’s cheeks now, but the power grew. Another dancer came before him. Then another. Far and near, the dancers were giving of themselves. The energy surged bright and fiery, consuming another portion of the threat.
The earth moved closer to safety.
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Hart knew about Dexsarin.
She threw herself at Georgie. The traitor merc hadn’t expected such a reaction and was slow in getting his weapon up. His first bullet caught her in the side. Ballistic armor protected her, but the impact twisted her around and she crashed into him clumsily. They fell heavily to the floor. She was on him instantly, clawing for his face. If she was going to go, so was he.
The gas swirled around them, disturbed by more than their struggle. Aleph’s scream resonated in her being as the ally spirit fed her the knowledge that magic surrounded them. Wind—impossible in a closed vault—howled in her face as though she were in the midst of a gale. Her hair whipped wildly, stinging her eyes and lashing her skin.
Georgie was caught in a gust that snapped one of the straps on his rebreather. The mask fell away and his struggles redoubled. He had lost his starlight goggles in Hart’s attack and she could see his eyes go wide with fear.
He knew about Dexsarin, too.
But Dexsarin gas could never remain a compact cloud in the midst of a natural whirlwind. The bilious mist swirled up from the floor and wrapped itself around Georgie’s head. He snapped his mouth shut, but Hart opened it again with an elbow jab to his solar plexus. The man gasped, hauling in gas as he tried for air. The knowledge of what he was doing was clear in his eyes.
Hart rolled away, equally fearful of the gas. The pocket hurricane roared, and the noxious streamers grew thinner, dissipated, and were borne away on the magical wind. The tempest died.
Hart was surprised to find that she hadn’t, she knew she might yet.
Gunfire sounded from outside the vault. She moved to the door and froze. From the warnings Sam had passed on from Urdli, she knew what they might be, but had failed to imagine the horror of the half-insect, half-human things she saw swarming over the mercs. Before she could gather her magic, three of the mercs were down, torn to pieces. She cut one thing down with a mana dart in time to save Julio from the creature’s attack, but the radio specialist was gutted by another that crawled over the back of its dying fellow to strike at the merc.
There were too many of them. Hart reached out for Aleph, to join its power to hers, and in doing so, felt a rippling surge in the mana flow around her. She grabbed it, forming it into the most powerful spell she could channel. Shaping it, she realized the strength of what she touched. It was far stronger than any magic she had ever experienced or seen, more powerful than a dragon’s. Maybe too powerful for her to use and live. But what choice did she have?
The last merc went down, and the bugs swarmed toward her. She stretched out her arms and let the mana flow through her. The world went white and she felt the insect things scream as they shriveled.
One, larger than any she had seen, staggered toward her. Its chitinous hide was burning, and it screamed in outrage and pain. It was dying, but was still driven to kill.
Its claws caught her in mid-body, ripping through her armor. It tossed her back into the vault, and Hart felt broken.
The mana had seared her nerves as she channeled it, but she had tasted Sam’s essence in the energy. It had been a glorious moment. He had seemed as tall as a mountain and filled with the power of the gods. He was dancing with the Dog and doing what needed to be done.
He was beautiful.
But he needed her still.
She passed out three times before she managed to open the latch of her shoulder bag, and once more before she dragged the pouch free. The rest of the dust must be freed. Her numbing fingers managed to spread the thong. The bag tumbled from her grip and the dust puffed out.
It was done.
She fell into the darkness that seemed so eager to take her.