I wasn’t skilled enough to try healing him, but the other option was an infusion of magical energy. That I could do; it’s a relatively straightforward process, and the enhanced power I had would make it easy. But that comes with its own price. It would be like pumping a bunch of painkill ers and meth into a sick and exhausted person. Useful in an emergency, and it will keep them going, but it takes a serious toll. When the body is pushed to its limits it eventually collapses, but when it’s magically pushed beyond those limits, the consequences can be serious and even deadly. If we didn’t get back soon enough, it could easily push Lou over the edge. But if we stayed here, he might not make it, either. And there were the creatures to consider. I doubted that the two we’d seen were the only ones around.
So either way we might end up screwed, and in that situation it’s always better to do something than nothing. I called him and he limped over, unsteady on his legs. I reached out and gathered living energy and life force from the trees around us. At least the natural base of the energy boost would make it less toxic. I directed the flow into him, as the needles on several surrounding trees turned brown. It took only a few moments before he perked up considerably, gave a bark both confident and halfhearted, and took off down the path again.
At first he was fine, trotting down the path with only a slight limp, but as time passed the limp became more pronounced and he was getting noticeably more tired, stopping every few minutes. I was beginning to think it was hopeless when he suddenly took a detour straight through the underbrush. This was more like it. We were lower in elevation now, and thick bushes were beginning to clog the path. Tired and injured as he was, he slipped through the massed thickets as easily as a greased seal. I stumbled behind him, with branches whipping across my face and tree roots grabbing at my feet. He seemed to be describing a large circle, and sure enough we eventually arrived back on the path. He sat down to rest, then five minutes later, he took off through the brush again and repeated the entire procedure.
I wasn’t sure what he was doing-it was typical of how he finds his way, the way he operates, but I’d never seen his path so convoluted. By the fourth go-round he was panting heavily. I was just about to bend down and pick him up when I noticed that the landscape had subtly altered. The path looked the same, but the scattered patches of snow were gone and the trees surrounding us were different.
The next time he angled off the path, the undergrowth had become less tangled and the bushes now seemed more like broad-leafed plants and less like low-spreading conifers. It was definitely growing warmer, and Lou started moving faster. Soon I was loping awkwardly, having trouble keeping up with him despite his injuries. I yelled at him to slow down before he killed himself, but he didn’t even turn his head. Maybe the pace was as important as the twists and turns.
Soon, he located a small ravine and plunged in. By the time we reached the bottom, it was so overgrown I couldn’t even see the sky above me, and the tangle of undergrowth made moving fast impossible, at least for me. Lou pulled himself up the opposite side and, when he reached the top, gave a couple of weary barks and collapsed. Pushing my way on up, I emerged onto a scene of broad hills dotted with spruce and fir.
A deep breath brought the faint but unmistakable stink of diesel fumes. A constant rumble from my left caught my attention and when I turned my head, I could see, a half mile away, a line of cars and trucks headed up a freeway incline. I was back, but I wasn’t sure exactly where I was.
The sun let me know it was late afternoon. I picked Lou up and headed over to the highway, hoping to find out where I was, and maybe catch a ride. Most of the passing vehicles had California license plates, so coupled with the landscape and the familiar freeway, it was a good bet I was looking at I-80 as it wound through the Sierras. As far as I could tell I was on the west side of the summit, maybe twenty miles from Soda Springs, where Campbell lived. That made sense, too; if Lou hadn’t been able to find the exact way home, he might have found a way to a place he was familiar with, somewhere similar to where we had been. And Campbell’s was the best possible place we could end up. Maybe that had something to do with it as well.
I stood by the side of the road and stuck out my thumb, trying to look harmless. Trying to hitch a ride on the interstate is never the easiest thing to do, and the leather jacket and my disheveled appearance weren’t going to help. I might have to try a masking spell that would make me seem clean-cut and harmless. It turned out to not be necessary-not a whole lot of drivers will stop for a solitary male alongside the road, but add a very small dog, pitifully curled up in his owner’s arms, and you have to beat them off with a stick.
In less than five minutes a young couple pulled over, the wife obviously being the one who insisted they stop. Lou of course climbed into the woman’s lap and looked up at her adoringly. He was trembling from exhaustion and the dried blood on his coat shocked her.
“What happened to him?” she asked, face wrinkling up in concern. “Is he hurt?”
“We were out hiking,” I said. “He ran off and tangled with something, maybe a bobcat. By the time I found him I’d got turned around and couldn’t find my way back to my car.”
“Doesn’t he need a vet?”
“There’s one in Soda Springs,” I said. “If you could drop me off there, I’d really appreciate it.”
“Of course,” she said. “Poor baby.”
The husband was curt and barely civil until he heard we were going only as far as Soda Springs, at which point he warmed up considerably. He was so relieved to be rid of us quickly that he detoured off the highway, followed my directions, and dropped me off right at the driveway leading up to Campbell’s cabin.
The first time I’d ever seen Campbell’s cabin it had been wintertime, surrounded by snow, and that was the way I always saw it in my mind’s eye. Snug and warm, smoke coming from the vent connected to the old iron wood-burning fireplace, windows frosted up like an old-time Christmas card. We’d had our problems, but some very fond memories lived there.
But today it was surrounded by greenery, with scattered alpine wildflowers tucked in the shadow of the building. Campbell was sitting on the front porch, looking down curiously at the unfamiliar car dropping off its passengers. When she saw me climb out carrying Lou, she rushed down the driveway.
“What happened?” she asked. “Was it that creature-the one that tore up Victor’s leg?”
“No, something else. It’s a long story. He got caught by a much larger creature-it caught him with its claw.”
She took him out of my arms and started back up the driveway. Lou didn’t protest-despite his dislike of being carried. He was now beyond caring.
“Victor told me about another Ifrit that had been attacked-that’s why I thought of it. An Ifrit named Jackie-do you know him?” I did. Jackie was a weasel, or maybe a stoat.
“Sure,” I said. Vikki’s Ifrit. “Is he okay?” I asked.
“Apparently. He was too quick for the creature, I guess. Escaped out a window. But Victor was worried because for the first time that thing actually came right into a practitioner’s house, I guess. That practitioner wasn’t home at the time, but still…”
That was disturbing. It was getting bolder. Right now I had more important things to worry about, though.
Inside Campbell’s cabin, all was calm. The sun streamed though the windows, lighting up dust motes in the air, sending them twinkling and sparkling throughout the room. Campbell’s collection of colored-glass jars where she kept her herbs and plants glowed merrily as the sunlight hit them, deep blues and greens and ambers. The patterned spread on the corner futon was new and colorful, and as always, the room was neat and tidy without being anal. In comparison, my own little basement apartment, scattered and disorganized, was sad indeed.