Part 28 (1/2)

”Ah, well. Don't say I didn't warn you.”

Another shaft of light shot toward Pericles. Pericles deflected it this time, then the air around the two mages became thick with darkness, then mist, light, and blood-as they threw spell after spell at each other.

Splinters of their spells ricocheted and arrowed toward the rest of us. Many crackled to nothing against the glowing tubes, but the rest came at us like flying shards of gla.s.s. Nash unfolded himself from under the rock to step in front of them, letting his null magic cancel them out, and I deflected the others. At the pickup, Gabrielle swatted at the spell remnants with her magic, whooping and laughing.

Bear, who'd remained motionless throughout all this, suddenly raised her arms. She pointed both hands high into the sky and let out a screaming chant in a high-pitched voice, the kind achieved by the best traditional Indian singers.

The sound echoed up and down the canyon, bounced from the tall mesas along the river valley, and rang up to the stars. A small rumble s.h.i.+fted my feet, the merest vibration, the ground answering.

Bear was calling the spirit of the canyon, the thousands of years of life and people and what they'd left behind. Wind sprang from a circle around her, and I heard the first rumble of thunder.

She was awaking the canyon, and bringing on the storm.

I laughed. Bear went on chanting. Though she sang in a language I didn't know, the words took shape in my head.

She sang of the creation, of the first three worlds far beneath us, which had been filled with G.o.ds and magical beings. She sang about First Man and First Woman, about life emerging through the cracks in the world Beneath to this one, the fourth world, the world of light.

I knew the story, had heard it many times. Bear added to it the tale of the pot she'd shaped, fired, and imbued with G.o.d magic. As Elena had told me, she'd presented it to the shamans who'd lived in this canyon long before what now stood in ruins had even been built, then she'd left them. The shamans had tried to use the pot, but they'd become greedy for its power, and it had started to destroy them. Other shamans, drawn by the magic, had fought to possess the pot, and in a conflagration of magic, the entire tribe had vanished from the land.

The pot had lain hidden here in the places of the dead, undisturbed for years. Other tribes had come and gone, but they'd never touched the graves. Then new people came, digging up the land and stealing from the dead, selling the pottery and artifacts they found to those who paid vast sums of money for them.

Now Bear had returned for her vessel. She would use it to stop the mages and the evil, then she'd take it and go.

I stood, mesmerized, listening to her. So did Nash. Gabrielle had gone quiet, and Grandmother and Elena watched, motionless, from the truck.

Pericles and Emmett paid no attention. The air around them was thick and black but shot through with wild colors. I heard screams among the magic, sounds of agony as well as snarls of rage.

Bear chanted on, and the storm built. Its tingling consumed me, and I turned in a circle, arms outstretched.

”What are you doing?” Nash demanded.

”Storm,” I said. ”It's a big one.”

”How big?”

”I'd say, take cover.”

Nash let out a string of swear words. He crawled beneath the slab of rock again and huddled there, tucking the pot beneath him.

Bear's song went on. The mages fought. The dragons screamed and fired, Colby joining their battle.

Nash made no move to nullify the magic ring around us, even with Colby gone, and I was fine with that, because the barrier s.h.i.+elded us against the backlash from the mages' spells.

Emmett wasn't being nice to us-when he was done with Pericles, he'd turn his attentions to us and the pot his barrier had protected. Very organized, was Emmett.

The storm came on. I smelled dust and dampness, and saw the wall of dust rising above the cliffs around Chaco Canyon to blot out the stars, the disc of the moon, and even the clouds themselves.

The dirt wall filled the horizon from end to end and rose a mile and more into the sky. It came fast, swallowing everything before it-b.u.t.tes, the canyon walls, rocks, trees, and all light.

It swallowed the sky itself, and the wind raged.

Hab.o.o.b, such storms were called. They were thick, miles deep and miles wide, and could reach two miles high. Its winds blew everything before it-dirt and debris, which the desert had to spare, sand loosened by sudden rain after days of no rain. All gathered into one giant storm, and that storm poured down on us now without mercy.

The canyon whirled into darkness. Emmett's spell lights glowed feebly, and by them I could just see Nash hunkered under the rock five feet away. Nothing else.

I stretched out my arms and embraced the storm.

I'd been in bad dust storms before, but this one was different. Whether Bear's magic had called it, or the magic battle in the valley had enhanced it, or somehow it sensed the pot's magic, I didn't know. But I felt the demons in the storm, beings drawn to the magic, and to me.

I grabbed the winds. I heard my own laughter, wild and strong. I was free.

My body rose with the wind, but I felt no terror. I rose on the hab.o.o.b's waves, and my Beneath magic, ironically, kept me grounded.

”Woo!” Gabrielle shouted from where she stood on the hood of the truck. ”Look at Janet.

Go, big sis!”

The demons in the wind fell back before me. I commanded them-they'd bend to my will.

The storm was mine.

The mile-high wall went straight for the dragons. ”Mick!” I screamed. ”Get out of the way!” Mick, my smart boyfriend, had already seen, already comprehended, and was already moving. He shot away in front of the storm, angling to the south and east, out of its path.

Drake went right after him. Colby hesitated, wings pumping the air, already hampered by his injury. I reached up with my magic and gave him a shove, and he flapped reluctantly away.

I turned with the storm toward Emmett and Pericles.

I hit them with two tunnels of wind, breaking their spells. Black, fragmented magic danced down the canyon, exploding against the walls in brilliant colors, like washes of fireworks.

Both mages swung to me. They were panting, sweating, covered in blood and dirt, Emmett's gla.s.ses broken.

They no longer wore the guises of ordinary men they showed to the rest of the world. I could see under their skins, the evil but beautiful things they truly were. They'd once been men, but the power they'd studied, or stolen, and h.o.a.rded for years had made them as cold and perfect as marble statues. Flawless. Deadly.

Emmett hissed. From his mouth issued a darkness so black that it sucked in and destroyed any color or light touched it. I knew death when I saw it.

I grabbed the wind, shaped it into an arrow, filled it with Beneath power, and shot the death out of the sky before it could touch me. Emmett's spell shattered like porcelain on concrete.

I'd never done this before. Usually, I drew on a storm's power-wind, lightning, rain, snow -mixed it with my natural magic, and let it out again.

This time, I was inside the storm. It was me, and I was it. I was flying, cradled in its power.

My awareness expanded with the storm. I stretched fifty miles across the desert, seeing the little towns and pueblos from here to the Colorado border. Sheep huddled together, worried shepherds among them. People rushed home and closed windows and doors, peering out at the giant wave of sand with frightened eyes.

The dragons fought south of here, almost to the slopes of Mount Taylor, which marked the traditional boundary of the Navajo lands. I saw Drake whirl to face Mick, then the two dragons began to battle, swiping with wings, claws, teeth, tails.

Colby reached them, but to my amazement, instead of attacking Mick, he turned on Drake.

I thought for a second that he'd managed to break his binding spell, but with my vision enhanced by my bath of magic, I saw the dark wires of the spell still wrapping him. He was fighting despite his bondage, helping Mick. And it hurt him.

Mick roared down at Drake, mouth open, claws ready to maul. Drake danced aside, but one of Colby's back feet managed to rake across Drake's chest, drawing blood. Drake fired at Colby, and Colby shot out of the way. Mick took advantage to get in a shot of fire across Drake's back.