When Lou reached the boggy area he flew right over it. At twelve pounds with magically altered paws, he barely sank into it at all, skimming over the bog like a water strider on a summer pond. The hound was right on his tail, and its momentum carried it well into the morass before it realized the danger and started to sink. In seconds it was floundering helplessly, each desperate struggle trapping it more securely in the mire. Lou doubled back, making sure not to get too close to the mire, and ran up to where I waited.
“Good job,” I said to him. It looked like he was going to be living on bacon instead of kibble from now on for quite a while. I returned his paws to normal, and he stood there shaking them out like an athlete after a hard training run.
“Nice work,” said the Wendigo. “I wasn’t sure you had it in you.”
“I’m full of surprises.” I watched the hound struggling, sinking inexorably deeper with every effort. I felt kind of sorry for it. It must have shown, because the Wendigo picked up on it immediately.
“Not to worry. It doesn’t really exist, you know, any more than this place does.”
“Are you trying to say it couldn’t have hurt us after all?” That didn’t jibe with what I knew about such things.
“Oh, no. Just because it isn’t real doesn’t mean it couldn’t have torn us to shreds.”
“Glad you cleared that up,” I said. “Now, any chance you can do what we came here for, before something worse shows up?”
“Of course.” He spun in a circle, sniffing the damp air, like Lou on a scent. “This way.”
We trudged over the moor, through the drifting fog. I immediately lost all sense of direction, but the Wendigo seemed sure of his direction. We walked for fifteen minutes or so, until a break in the fog revealed a rocky crag in the distance. It was familiar, and I thought I could see a misty figure blending into the rock.
“Close enough,” said the Wendigo. He faced in that direction and called softly, “Sherwood.” At first I could barely hear him, but the sound grew until it filled the landscape as strongly as if he had shouted at the top of his lungs. He spoke again. “Sherwood. Come.”
The Wendigo wasn’t speaking to me, but I still felt the pull. I wish I knew how he did it. The fog had closed in again and I could no longer see the crag, but he turned and began to walk away. He headed directly for a particularly dense area of fog, where the vapor turned to water the moment it touched your skin and you couldn’t see more than five feet in front of your face.
“Home,” he breathed, again the word barely audible. The fog closed in thicker than ever until it was almost as disorienting as the featureless void I’d entered at the Columbarium. A bright, diffuse light source appeared, illuminating the fog from the side, further disorienting me. A faint shape loomed ominously right at the limit of my vision, then another. The rocky ground softened under my feet, and as the fog thinned, the shapes resolved themselves into the figures of Eli and Victor. The rocky floor became a carpet, the bright light became sunlight streaming through tall windows, and then we were back in Victor’s study.
Sherwood lay crumpled on the floor. Eli bounded over toward her, but I beat him to it. I put my fingers on the side of her throat and felt warmth, but no pulse. Then I moved my fingers slightly and found it, reassuringly strong and steady. She was alive. I didn’t want to let go of her-I could hardly believe she was back, solid of flesh and breathing easily, but Eli shouldered me aside, looking worried.
“What’s wrong? Why is she unconscious?” he asked the Wendigo, putting his large fingers where mine had been.
“Don’t worry,” said the Wendigo. “She’ll be fine. Remember, she was suspended in that place for a very long time. The psychic shock of returning has just temporarily short-circuited her consciousness, that’s all.”
I moved around Eli to the other side. I needed to touch her again, to feel her, to make sure this wasn’t just a cruel illusion. Eli scooped her up in his massive arms and laid her gently on the couch, and Victor joined us at her side. We all just stood there, staring silently down at her.
“Ahem,” said the Wendigo, with a fake cough. “I hate to break up this touching reunion, but I believe you have something you want to give me.”
“Not until she comes to,” Victor said.
As if on cue, Sherwood opened her eyes, looked up with a puzzled expression, and then closed them again. Eli leaned over and looked at her closely.
“I think he’s right,” he said. “She’ll be fine. Give him what he wants.” He glanced over at the Wendigo. “And if she isn’t…”
Victor picked up the messenger bag, now half full of rune stones, and handed it over, a bit reluctantly. A quick look inside, and the Wendigo was satisfied.
“Nice doing business with you,” he said and headed toward the door, then stopped.
“By the way,” he said, “did you get a chance to look at this morning’s paper?”
“No,” Eli answered. “Why?”
“You might find it interesting.”
Victor picked up the paper from the desk and slipped it out of its orange plastic bag. He unfolded it with a snap of his wrist, and I could read the headline from across the room: “Another Hiker Dead!” The Wendigo smiled and turned back toward the door.
“Just a moment,” said Victor sharply. He read down a ways. “This says it happened right at dusk. In Marin County.”
The Wendigo stopped and stared back at him.
“I hope you’re not thinking of welshing on the deal,” the Wendigo said. “That would be a very bad idea, I guarantee you.”
“No, not at all,” said Eli, and I knew he meant it. He’d warned us often enough about the dangers of reneging on promises made to uncanny creatures. “But you knew about that headline. It couldn’t have been the fake Ifrit; it was stalking us at the time. It couldn’t have been you; you were trapped in the circle. So what was it, then?”
“That does seem to be the question.”
“You want to tell us what’s been going on?”
“Why should I?” he said. “I’m not real fond of any of you.” He pointed at me. “You tried to kill me, remember, the first time I saw you.” He pointed at Victor. “And then you trapped me in that cage. What would have happened to me if I hadn’t escaped?” He shook his head. “No, I’m not overly fond of any of you.”
“You and the Ifrit creature aren’t the only things that came out of the energy pool, were you?” I said, finally getting it.
“Brilliant,” he said. “Right on top of things, I see.”
“But you won’t tell us what it was? Can you at least tell us what it looks like? I did save your ass out on that moor, after all.”
“Yeah, and your own as well.” He laughed, suddenly, sounding very human indeed.
“How about a hint? Just to show there are no hard feelings.”
“But there are. Just stay close to home and I’m sure you’ll figure it out, anyway. Eventually. But of course by that time it will be too late.”
Without another word, he walked through the door and down the stairs, and this time Victor didn’t try to stop him. A moment later, the sound of the front door slamming shut echoed up to us.
Eli turned his attention back to Sherwood. He bent down close and took her hand.
“Sherwood?” She opened her eyes briefly.
“Grmff,” she said, and closed them again.
“She’s coming out of it,” Eli said.