naming the axes of motion, calling out for the true names of something, a plea to something deep within. Satterly could not understand it.
Satterly looked up to the hill's highest point, where the LeMans and the pickup waited. Meyer was behind the wheel of the convertible, and Jim Broward was in the truck. At a signal from Hereg, they both released their brakes and began rolling slowly down the hill. Dried leaves and twigs crackled beneath their tires. Broward's truck stuttered in its motion. The engine coughed and sputtered to life, lurching the truck forward. Broward revved the engine and dropped the truck into a higher gear.
Meyer's first shot at popping the clutch failed. The LeMans growled once, twice, then died, continuing its slow roll down the slope. Meyer, his hair blowing in the slight breeze of the car's motion, froze. The car continued to roll forward, now halfway down the slope. In a few moments he would be at the level of the ravine.
Broward honked his horn. Hereg jumped, frightened by the sudden noise. Meyer started, nodded furiously. He jerked the gearshift and leaned backward. The car coughed again and the engine caught, nearly bottoming out on the slope.
'Give it gas!' Broward shouted through his open window. Meyer closed his eyes, wincing. The LeMans eased slowly to life, idling with a steady roar.
'Let's go!' shouted Broward. 'We don't have much time!'
They drove the rest of the way down the slope without incident, stopping at the level of the sphere. Their camp was at the far bottom of the hill, where the ravine expanded and leveled out into the forest.
Satterly felt a hand on his shoulder and turned. It was Linda. 'Can you believe it?' she said. 'It's really happening.'
Satterly nodded. He looked to Hereg's left, where Gray Mave lay, tiny runic markings covering his entire naked body.
'Satterly!' cried Mave, catching his gaze. It came out as a whisper.
'Uh, I'll be back,' Satterly said to Linda. He approached Gray Mave.
'I can already feel it beginning,' said Mave. 'I can feel him pulling the life out of me. He's channeling my Gift, pressing it into something larger. More focused. It's beautiful.'
'You're going to be okay, Mave,' said Satterly, kneeling beside him.
Mave shook his head and coughed. 'I'm beyond that now, Satterly. Look.' He ran his hands over his chest wound. The skin there was black and rotting. 'Those bugganes really got me. It was all I deserved.'
'No, Mave. You didn't deserve it. You did what you thought was right.'
Mave reached out and took Satterly's hand in his. It was surprisingly soft and warm. 'I always knew what I was doing was wrong,' he said. 'Now, at least I can atone for it.'
'Dammit,' said Satterly. 'It's not true. You don't deserve to die.'
Mave tried to sigh but only produced an ugly wet cough. 'Satterly, don't cheapen my death. Let me be noble for once.'
Satterly sat down hard on the hard ground. Somewhere, a hot wind began to blow.
'Move away,' said Hereg, taking Satterly roughly by the shoulder. 'Get out of the way.'
Satterly stood up and stumbled backward, toward Linda.
Hereg turned to face the sphere and called out a few more phrases in his ancient dialect. The sphere began to shimmer, clouding over.
The wind Satterly had felt on the ground now grew to a gust, racing over his skin like the Santa Ana he'd felt once in Los Angeles, a wall of hot air. The trees around them began to shake and sway, their few brown leaves scattering and swirling in the wind.
Hereg cried out something unintelligible and the sphere began to grow. The wind intensified, and Satterly felt Linda holding on to him for balance. The whisper of the floating leaves grew to a roar as the trees for dozens of yards in every direction started to bow crazily, shaking loose entire branches that dropped to the earth with ugly thuds.
Satterly inhaled a mouthful of old dust, rotten ice, and dirt. The sphere was getting larger, now the size of Hereg, continuing to expand.
The sphere sat precariously now at the top of the ravine. Directly before it stood Hereg, the wind blowing his robes around him. Behind him, Mave lay on the ground, his body beginning to shake. His eyes were closed. Behind Mave, Meyer and Broward were backing their vehicles into position on either side of Mave's prostrate form.
Paul stood alongside holding a length of chain in each hand. When Meyer and Broward were in position, he ran behind the cars, clipping his chains to their frames. He walked along the chains' length, checking their position, allowing them to flow through his hands as he circumnavigated the sphere. When his circuit was complete, he nodded to Hereg, handing him a loop of heavy wire that terminated one of the chains. Hereg's skin crackled when it came into contact with the steel of the wire, but if he felt pain he did not show it.
'Avi ke'ele.!' called Hereg. From what little he understood of Fae thaumatics, Satterly recognized the call to a triggered memory spell, a keyword that launched a previously spoken bit of magic. The sphere changed colors, sparked; electric flashes shimmered inside its depths. It became completely opaque, darkening to black.
'Now,' said Hereg. 'I have placed a solid skin around it. It can be moved now. But it must be done quickly!' He stepped quickly to the side, dragging Gray Mave's limp form with him.
Paul signaled to the men in the cars. He ran and stood behind the sphere, taking a coil of the chain, the one Satterly had seen earlier with the hook at the end, and hurling it over the black shape. Hereg caught his throw clum sily and fastened the hook to the loop that he held. He waved to the drivers again and leapt out of the way.
Both Broward and Meyer gunned their engines, dropping into first gear. Both autos lurched forward and stopped short as the chains pulled tight against the hard surface of the sphere. There was a sharp grinding sound, the chains grating against the unnatural black exterior of the Hole. For a few seconds, nothing happened. Then, slowly, the giant shape began to move.
They drove downhill, along the path that Linda had led Satterly up the night before. They passed the unknown dead man's tow truck, Linda's Volvo, Paul's semi. The Hole continued to expand, growing to the height of the tallest trees. It radiated waves of energy, like a hot road on a summer's day. The wind continued, boring its way through Satterly's clothes, stinging his eyes. He helped Hereg drag Gray Mave down the long hillside.
When they reached the bottom of the slope, the LeMans died. The sphere's progress halted instantly and Broward shut off his truck, leaping out of the cab.
'Let's go!' he shouted. 'Let's go!'
'I need the blood now!' Hereg cried over the wind. He held a long curved knife.
'Take mine,' shouted Broward. He held out his hand.
'What about the children?' Hereg shouted back.
'We share the same blood, all of us! They're our kids! They're human!'
Hereg shook his head. Broward took the knife from his hand and sliced across his own palm, letting his blood seep onto the ground.
'The blood of life calls its people homeward!' Hereg called, his voice suddenly grown louder, stronger. 'Make straight the path!'
The sphere responded with a brilliant white flash. Suddenly, within its confines, a paved street appeared, lined with low brick homes. Young trees were dotted over freshly mowed lawns. Minivans and late-model sedans were parked in the driveways. It was dusk there.
For a few breaths, no one moved. No one spoke. Satterly only heard the sound of the wind rushing through him, saw only the vision of home. Hereg broke the tableau.
'It will only hold for a few minutes. You must go now!'
Broward threw up his hands. 'You heard him! Go!' He pushed Paul toward the sphere. Paul took a deep breath and stepped across the threshold. The light coming across the border refracted his silhouette; for an instant he appeared in double. Then he was standing on the street. Tears were streaming down his eyes. He screamed soundlessly, his fist to the skies, laughing. One porch light snapped on, then another. Doors opened and young men in blue jeans and women with babies at their hips stepped onto their concrete porches. Paul sank to his knees, weeping.
'Let's go!' said Broward. He pushed his own son. 'Go!'
Chris stepped through the Hole, much to the shock of the suburban audience. Satterly tried to imagine the lean, scraggly Chris Broward materializing from nowhere onto their master-planned street. He laughed out
