Date: Tue, 27 Jul 2010 07:03:58 EDT
From: BertMcK@aol.com
Subject: Crystal Throne/Riders of Tuatha 8

RIDERS OF TUATHA
by Bert McKenzie
Copyright 2010

Disclaimer: This story is a work of fiction.  Any resemblance to any real
person alive or dead is coincidental and unintentional.

CHAPTER VIII

     It was still dark when the black Dodge van pulled up in front of the
big old house.  Two men and a woman got out and looked cautiously around.
The first thing they spotted was the body lying in the gutter.  Under the
woman's watchful eye, the men laid down a tarp they took from the back of
the van, and rolled the body onto it.  Carefully wrapping it up, they
quickly loaded it into the van.  One of the men climbed back in and drove
off while the woman and the other man headed toward the house.

     As they reached the front door, they each pulled a gun from beneath
the dark trench coats they wore.  The man tried the door, only to find it
locked.  He carefully produced a large brass ring with a number of long
metal picks from his pocket and while the woman held a small pen light, he
began working on the lock.  In just a few seconds he had the door open.
The two figures quickly ducked inside.

     Everything was dark and silent in the old house.  The inhabitants were
either gone or asleep.  "We got Joe.  Can't we just leave?" the man
whispered to his partner.

     "You two botched it before," she whispered back.  "It's a miracle this
place isn't crawling with cops.  You heard what Tony said.  You left two
witnesses, and he didn't want anyone to find out.  Let's just grab the guy
and the girl and get out of here."  She indicated the stairs and he began
slowly climbing them as she looked around on the ground floor.

     They searched through every room, even the vacant top floor, but found
no one.  The house was totally empty.  "Did you really think they would
hang around after what happened earlier?" the man asked.

     "You're probably right," the woman answered him.  "But there's going
to be hell to pay when Tony finds out they got away."

     They were just about to leave when they both heard a sound.  It was a
low moan, and it came from upstairs.  "I checked up there," the man said
nervously.  "You think this place is haunted?"

     She slugged him in the arm and shoved him back toward the stairs.
"They were probably hiding somewhere," she said quietly.

     "Then why would they give themselves away?" he asked.  Again the moan
sounded from above.  She gestured for him to be quiet and they continued up
the stairs.  Again the low sound came to them, this time from the end of
the hall.  The two crept quietly toward the half closed bedroom door.  She
pulled her gun and kicked the door open with a bang.

     There was no sound in the room.  The woman played her small flashlight
around, and it appeared to be empty.  The man joined her and whispered in
her ear.  "Maybe this place really is haunted."  He could feel the hairs
crawling at the back of his neck.

     "Go look in the closet," she said as she bent down to shine the light
under the empty bed.

     "Nothing," came his reply.  There was nothing under the bed as well.
She reached up to steady herself as she stood and her hand contacted cold
flesh.  The woman jumped back and let out a low cry in fear.  "Jeez, what
is it?" her partner asked in alarm.

     She shined her light on the bed.  There lay a thin, blond man, wearing
what looked like a long, white night shirt.  His green eyes reflected the
beam of her light back at her like the eyes of a cat.  The man rolled his
head to the side, moaning.  "He wasn't there a minute ago," the woman said.

     "Well he's there now," her companion replied.  "He looks like he's
sick or something."

     "Is he the guy Joe hit?" she asked.

     "I don't know. I guess so," he answered her.

     "Maybe he's got a concussion," she suggested.

     "The girl may have gone for help," the man replied.

     "Well, we aren't going to wait around for the help to arrive.  I guess
one is better than none.  Bring him along."  She shined the light so her
accomplice could see to pick the injured man up off the bed.  He carried
the body over his shoulder like a sack of grain, and they quickly hurried
down the stairs and out of the house.

     The van was waiting at the curb.  The driver had already completed his
errand by disposing of the body in the nearby river.  The two hurried to
the van, the woman opening the back door while her partner dumped their
prisoner in.  They then climbed in after him, pulling the door shut.  The
driver started the engine and headed off for the rendezvous with Tony.

                               * * *

     "What you propose is beyond the realm of possibilities," Elnar
protested.  "I might be able to slow down one or two of you to drop to the
world of humans, but to send an army in battle readiness!  This is beyond
reason!"

     Rood could no longer contain his anger.  He reached out and grabbed
the little, old man by the collar of his oversized robe and lifted him off
the floor.  "You will find a way or we will be looking for a new magician,"
he hissed.  "It gets very cold in the Eldritch Mountains."

     Elnar looked over to where the other guard stood in hopes of
assistance.  Melcot was contentedly leaning against the doorjamb.  He did
not seem concerned in the least with his companion's threatened violence.
Realizing he was on his own, Elnar tried a show of bravado.  "How dare you
threaten me?" he squealed.  "I am a member of court and under the
protection of the king!"

     "Have you forgotten, old man, that the king is no longer here?  What
think you the high council will say when we tell them you were instrumental
in banishing him to another world?"

     "That is a deception!  You know there is no truth in that!" Elnar
shrieked in fear.

     "My lord, it certainly appears that you were the cause," Melcot added.
"I think we should take this matter to the council now and waste no more
time."  He turned to open the door.  Rood began to pull the old man toward
it.

     "Wait!  Wait but a moment!" Elnar cried.  The two guards looked at him
expectantly.  "Give me time to consult my books.  I may find a solution to
this."

     Rood released him.  "Be quick in your studies, old father," he said
menacingly.  "We are very impatient."

     "Return late today and I shall try to have an answer for you," the old
man said as he straightened his robes and turned to a nearby pile of books
and papers.

                               * * *

     Scott and Caseldra arrived in Springford fairly early and pulled up at
a 24-hour truck stop cafe to kill some time.  Scott had picked up
Jennifer's wallet on the way out of the house and he now used her money to
purchase breakfast for the two of them.  The food was excellent, and the
coffee was even better.  He was beginning to feel the effects of the last
several hours of driving on top of a sleepless night.  The caffeine
provided a very necessary lift.

     Caseldra was amazed at everything they encountered.  She could not
believe how fast the car traveled when they got out of the city and onto
the highway.  The other vehicles shooting by terrified her at first, but
once she became accustomed to this strange mode of conveyance, she became
like a little child.  She urged him to try greater speeds to see how fast
they could go, until Scott finally interested her in playing with the
radio.  The girl showed a marked preference for country-western music as
she played with the dial, changing from station to station.

     At the cafe, Caseldra played the juke box that was attached to the
side of their booth.  She didn't like it as well, when she discovered she
could not change the song when she grew tired of it as she had been able to
on the car radio.  She then wanted to wander about the small restaurant
checking out all the strange appliances.  Scott managed to restrain her by
convincing her of the need to blend in and be inconspicuous.  This appealed
to the warrior in her.  The girl appreciated the advantage they might have
if her true nature was hidden.  The food held her attention for some time,
but once breakfast was over, she again became restless.

     They still had an hour before the offices at the auction house opened,
so they left the cafe to drive around and kill some time.  Once outside,
Scott moved the car over to the gas pump just next to the restaurant.
While he was refilling the tank, Caseldra noticed a big semi parked nearby
with the diesel engine running.  Curiosity getting the best of her, she
wandered over to investigate.

     "Well, hi there, little lady."  She looked up to see a short, stocky
man dressed in jogging shorts and a tank top checking the cables on his
rig.  He smiled at her.  Caseldra smiled back, having no idea what he had
said.  As he reached up to tug on a loose connector, her eye was suddenly
caught by the blue and red picture on his bare arm.  She had never seen
painting on a person's body before, but she recognized the image instantly.

     "A dragon!" she said in her native language and took a step closer.

     "Oh, you like tatoos?" the man asked, seeing her eyes examining his
arm.  "That there is a genuine Chinese dragon.  I got that one in 'Nam," he
bragged.  She took a step closer and reached her hand out tentatively.
"It's okay, you can touch it," he said, holding out his arm.

     Caseldra gently caressed the picture.  The skin felt normal, and the
image did not appear to be painted on.  She rubbed a bit more firmly and
was surprised to see no change.  The man apparently had this unusual
coloring as part of his nature.  She was totally at a loss to understand
it.

     "You want to see my naked lady?" he asked with a lecherous smile.
Caseldra smiled back, still having no idea of what he was asking.  The man
pulled off his tank top and revealed a colorful tatoo of a naked woman on
his back.  She was stretched out in a seductive pose, her big, round
breasts jutting up toward his shoulder blade.  Caseldra marveled at this
further oddity.  She again brushed her fingers over his skin, feeling the
smoothness.

     The man turned to face her, showing the image of a snake winding
across his chest.  She again reached out, but then drew her hand back
modestly.  "It's okay, honey," he cooed.  "You can pet my serpent."  He
reached out, taking her hand and placing it on his chest.  He roughly
pulled it across his hairless body, rubbing her fingers against his
nipples.  "Ah, that feels good.  Don't it?" he whispered.

     Caseldra was beginning to feel uncomfortable with such intimate
contact with a stranger.  She tried to pull away, but he only held her hand
more firmly against him.  "I got another serpent I'd like you to feel," he
said as he slowly forced her hand down toward his waistband.  With his free
hand he reached down and pulled out on the elastic of the shorts he was
wearing, revealing himself to her.  Caseldra suddenly realized what the man
wanted, and she struggled to break free.  He just laughed and slipped his
shorts down, pulling her against his exposed body.

     A wave of anger swept over her, and she stomped down hard on his
instep while pulling his hand and bending to use her body for leverage.
Caught off guard by the pain, the stocky little man felt himself flip
through the air to land heavily on the gravel.

     About this time Scott came around the side of the truck cab, looking
for her.  "What's going on here?" he asked Caseldra.

     "This man with the strange, colored images on his body tried to attack
me," she explained as she turned to walk calmly back toward the car.  The
truck driver was sprawled on his back, his shorts down around his knees,
exposing himself.

     "Nice snake," Scott said as he smiled down at the dazed man.  He then
hurried to catch up with his friend.

                               * * *

     Jennifer woke up to an odd combination of smells.  It was like someone
brewing coffee in a musty, earthen cellar.  She opened her eyes and took in
the room which she occupied.  It appeared to be a basement with stone walls
and a dirt floor.  That, at least, accounted for the earthy smell.  There
was a tiny window set high on one wall.  It emitted the light of day
through white, translucent paint that had been smeared over the glass.
Dark shadows on the small panes showed that there were bars over the
opening on the outside of the window.  A solid, metal door was set in the
wall just opposite of her.

     Jennifer was stretched out on a dirty mattress which was covering a
small metal cot.  She slowly looked around and saw that this and a beat up
old easy chair were the only pieces of furniture in the room.  She could
make out a body draped in the chair, apparently asleep from the sound of
the deep, regular breathing.  This must be a guard, she assumed.  Moving as
quietly as possible, and keeping her eyes sharply focused on the door, she
tried to get up.  The flat springs under the mattress creaked ominously,
and she froze.  The sound of the regular breathing never varied, so she
continued her move.  Finally getting to her feet, Jennifer slowly tip toed
across the dirt floor to the door.  She gripped the vertical bar that
passed for a handle and pulled.  The door clanked against a bolt and
refused to open, but another sound caught her ear at the same time.  The
sleeper woke with a sneeze and realized she was trying to escape.  "Hey!"
he said.

     Jennifer yanked and pulled on the door with all her strength, but it
only clanked in place.  She could hear the springs of the chair creak as
her guard stood up.  "Help! Help me, someone!  Please!" she screamed as she
tugged on the cold metal.

     "Jen, Jen, it's me," the voice said as hands gripped her shoulders.
She turned and looked at the guard, discovering it was her friend Troy.
She fell into his arms and sobbed freely.

     "God, I thought you were dead," she gasped between sobs.

     "No way, girlfriend," he answered, taking her back to the cot and
sitting down beside her.

     "Where are we?" Jennifer asked as she tried to control her emotions.

     "I don't know.  In a basement somewhere.  I think it must be out in
the country since they don't seem to mind if we scream.  Believe me, I've
tried," he answered as he pushed his glasses back up on his nose.

     "What are we doing here?  What do they want from us?" she asked her
friend.

     "Detective Smithers, whose real name is Joe by the way, showed up with
a gun and then blindfolded me and brought me here.  Some other guy came in
a while ago and dropped you on the bed, but no one will answer any
questions or tell me why I'm here.  I was hoping you might know something
when you came to," he said.

     "I wonder if they got Scott, too?" she said quietly.

     "Scott? What are you talking about?" Troy asked.

     "Troy, I was going to tell you on the phone last night but you didn't
give me a chance.  Scott came back!" she said excitedly.  "Since he isn't
here with us, he must have gotten away."

     "Are you feeling okay?" he asked her.

     "Yes, of course.  Maybe he'll be able to get us out of here," she
answered.

     "Jen, Scott's dead," Troy told her.  "We both saw him get killed over
a year ago."

     "No, he's alive!" she protested.  "He said he was transported to
another world or something. But now he's back."

     "Sure, Jen, if you say so," he patronized her.  "And I suppose the guy
with the pointed ears came with him?"

     "No, he came with a girl."

     "A girl?  That's not the Scott I knew," Troy said with a laugh.  They
lapsed into silence.  Jennifer felt upset that Troy didn't believe her, but
she still clung to the hope that maybe Scott could rescue them somehow.

     After a time they heard sounds outside, and then a loud clanking.  The
metal door swung inward and a thin, plain looking woman with a pinched face
stepped into the room.  She wasn't wearing any makeup, but obviously looked
like some would help.  She carried a white sack with yellow arches on it.
She also carried a small, lethal looking hand gun.  "Here's your lunch,"
she said tossing the sack at Jennifer.

     "What about me?" Troy asked.

     "You're coming with me," she answered, gesturing to the door with the
muzzle of her gun.

     "Why?" he asked.

     "Because Tony wants you.  Now get moving," she ordered.  Troy sat
immobile beside Jennifer. The woman raised her weapon to arms length and
aimed it directly at his head. "Of course I can always tell Tony you tried
to get away and I had to kill you," she said with a wicked smile.  Troy
quickly got up and headed out the door.  As he stepped through he turned to
glance back at Jennifer.  She tried to smile encouragingly.  The woman gave
him a shove with the barrel of her gun and then stepped through after him.
The door clanked shut and Jennifer could hear the bolt fall into place.

     She walked to the door and gave it an experimental tug.  Just as she
had expected, it banged and moved about a half an inch, but refused to
open.  She slammed her fist against it as hard as she could.  Just to feel
the pain in her hand was a validation of her existence.  Jennifer slid down
the cold metal door and ended up in a huddled heap on the packed, earthen
floor.  She sat therefor a long while, tears running down her face.

     After a time, she felt hollow.  There were no more tears inside her.
The only thing left to her was action.  She stood and walked to the window.
It was mounted directly into the stone foundation and was designed to let
in light, but not to open. She thought of breaking the glass, but there
were bars on the outside, so it really wouldn't do her much good. Jennifer
finally returned to the cot.  Realizing that she was hungry, she opened the
sack and looked inside. The contents were cold by now.  She reached in and
pulled out a yellow cardboard container of chicken nuggets.  She hated
chicken nuggets.