Horrors of the Dancing Gods

locals want us to stay!'

Swords came out, and they whirled to see horrors emerging from the cellars of the burned-out structures: misshapen humanoid creatures that might once have been people but were now dripping with foulness.

'Holy shit! It's The Night of the Living Dead!' Marge cried, the last bits of lethargy slipping as she launched herself into the air and then straight for the waiting car.

Thebes opened his white coat for the first time and revealed a virtual smorgasbord of weaponry in nice little holders along the lining. It was no wonder he always looked like an unmade bed; there were wooden stakes and mallets, crosses, crescents, Stars of David, silver daggers, wolfsbane: it was an incredible sight.

'Zombies!' he muttered irritably. 'What the hell stops the zombies?'

'Take it from experience — very little!' Poquah shouted. 'Run for the car, everyone! Irving and I will try to buy you time.'

Irving gave the Imir a quick, nervous glance and gulped. 'We will? Um, yeah, I guess we will.'

The things came on pretty fast for zombies, which had a reputation for being slow and shuffling. One reached very close to Irving, who was trying to backpedal and not trip while making as good time as possible. Now he swung the short sword in a series of broad, professional strokes that sliced right through decaying yet animated limbs, shearing them off as if they were made of butter.

That, unfortunately, stopped neither the severed limbs nor the trunk from coming on. Slashes at the legs with that sword were out of the question. 'I got to get a longer sword,' Irving muttered, then turned and ran so hard for the open door that he overran both Poquah and Larae. Thebes seemed to have given up on his quest for a talisman or weapon and to have got there ahead of them.

Irving made the open door of the cable car, then turned to hold it as long as possible. He saw Larae running, but she stumbled and fell, and he started to run back toward her to help her. Almost immediately he realized that a zombie was going to beat him to her.

She turned onto her back as the undead creature lunged at her, but as the zombie tried to pounce on her and rip out her throat, her legs came up, caught the thing at the hips, and then, with a powerful somersault roll, sent the zombie flying while somehow Larae got back on her feet, pulling her skirt down almost below her ass.

Irving saw a half dozen more of the creatures closing in as he reached her. 'Don't bother getting pretty now!' he shouted, picking her up and sprinting for the open door, where now only Poquah guarded the entrance.

He jumped in, falling on the wooden floor, Larae spilling out of his grasp to his right. Poquah jumped aboard and pulled the sliding door shut while the approaching menace was still a good ten or fifteen feet from the car. The Imir looked around, saw an official-looking cherubic fellow in a blue uniform and brass buttons standing there beside two wooden levers, and shouted, 'If you can get moving now, we might have a chance!'

'Welcome aboard, neighbors,' the conductor responded in a cheery voice totally inappropriate to the situation. Marge was reminded of an animatronics figure at Disneyland. 'The Borgo and Donner Pass Transit System welcomes you to what we hope will be a pleasant experience. Please have your tickets ready for collection after we start. Otherwise, I'm afraid you will be dumped overboard and fall a few thousand feet to your death, and we wouldn't want that, now, would we?'

The zombies had reached the car and were pounding on it furiously. One found a weak spot in the wood and punched through, a grisly arm dripping hunks of flesh emerging and grasped around for something to get hold of.

Larae screamed and pointed, and Poquah severed the limb with his sword. The arm, drawn laboriously by its hand, continued in motion.

'I'm sorry,' the conductor said, eyeing the moving arm. 'No pets are allowed on the line. I'll have to open the door—'

'The hell you will! Get us out of here!' Irving shouted at him, putting the sword almost at the conductor's throat 'We'll make sure it doesn't make the trip!'

'He's one of those stupid character critters!' Marge shouted. 'He isn't gonna break character unless— Hey! Look! They're leavin'!'

Irving and the others looked and saw that she was right. The zombies had suddenly ceased their assault on the cars and were now shambling back in a fair semblance of a line toward the old town. Poquah stuck the severed but still living arm with his sword, impaling it, threw open the door just a bit, and, with a strong motion of the wrist, sent it flying. Closing the door quickly, he turned to the conductor.

'I do not know what manner of creature you are,' the Imir said in that cold but very frightening tone he used when he was very angry, 'but if you fear iron, you will get some, and if a wooden stake is more to your taste, you will have that, too. Or we can just get moving. It is your choice. And if you are some sort of infernal mechanical device, we will find a way to run it ourselves. It is not as if we can get lost on this.'

The conductor's smile never wavered, and he never looked directly at Poquah or showed the slightest sign that he'd heard or understood anything at all that had been said to him, but after a few seconds' pause that seemed much longer, he suddenly announced, 'All those with no business aboard should be off. Now leaving. Please take seats or stand holding firmly to a rail.'

Almost before Poquah could sheathe his sword, let alone get into one of the remaining wickerlike twin seats bolted to the floor, the conductor reached up, threw the first lever and then the second, then reached up with both hands and pulled them both back down again.

The car shuddered; then, silently, it began to move. The speed was not great, but it was certainly adequate; the ground was soon far behind, and the clouds and dark rock wall seemed to approach with dramatic speed.

Marge looked out at the deepening vista. 'Gonna be dark soon and up in the clouds, too. Hell of an opportunity for someone who could fly at that altitude.'

'Don't invite trouble,' Thebes cautioned her. 'It finds us enough as it is.' He turned to Poquah, who was sitting there frowning, staring straight ahead. 'Are you all right?' he called to the Imir.

'Huh? Yes, quite all right. I was just trying to think…'

'Yes? Sorry if I interrupted.'

'No, no. It wasn't coming anyway, and when it does not come immediately, then it is best not to dwell on it but let it simmer. It was just that when I opened the door, I could hear music of some sort in the distance, back toward the boat. Very strange music but something I have heard before, although not recently. I just cannot place it.'

'Didn't hear much of anything myself, but I wasn't listening for it,' the little man replied.

'How long does this trip usually take, Thebes?' Marge called to him.

'Oh, two and a half hours, give or take. It is, after all, mechanical energy.'

She nodded as they entered the cloud bank. 'Then we'll be at the top at about dark.'

Just at that moment they emerged again on the other side of the first layer, and she gasped at the sight of a bird the size of a small plane flying by just above them. Its sheer size and proximity bathed them in the vibrations set up by its wings and the rest of its anatomy as amplified by the rock walls, and it did seem also to be making a series of sounds.

'My God! That thing's huge!'

Thebes nodded. 'Yes, it is a hard rock roc. Don't worry. So long as you remain inside, it won't bother us. The only problem you might have is if we meet one of its brethren, one that feeds on creatures with a high mineral content, particularly iron. They have been known to weaken or knock cold various faerie just by flying nearby unless you are prepared for them.'

'Yes,' Marge sighed, wondering just how much of a comedian Thebes thought he was or if he was actually serious about this. 'I can see that heavy metal roc would take some getting used to.'

Larae had straightened her skirt and managed to get herself feeling at least a bit more comfortable, but she was beginning to feel oddly chilled and wondered if her bag had made it.

'I'll go check,' Irving said, but discovered that not much had made it on that wasn't already in their hands. Marge had no luggage and carried nothing, nor would she have been strong enough, anyway. Thebes was supposed to take the two small suitcases, but now it was clear that he'd dropped them and just sprinted for the open car door in a panic.

Poquah's small satchel with the money bag and whatever introductions and magical stuff he'd brought along was safe and on board, but there was not much else. Everything they'd bought of a tangible nature had been left