In manipulating the Matrix, Dodger was as good as his word. Using a hookup to the squat's trid unit, the elf displayed the map he had constructed with his cyberdeck. Sam stared at the screen, scrolling the image and tracing the lines. Line after line converged on a nearby nexus, but the node was small compared to a greater one to the southeast. He checked the map reference and sighed. He should have known from the start, but how could he have been sure that it was I still there? So much had changed in the world, so I many antiquities destroyed, and England had seen its share of turmoil. But the site remained. And it was only two steps from a minor nexus at Glover's man- sion.

Sam tapped out commands on the cyberdeck's key- oard, expanding the image until a ghostly picture of -----------------118.

Robert N. Charrette sarsen stones filled the image area. Dodger's eyes wid- ened in recognition.

"Stonehenge," they said together.

13.

Hart knelt by the heel stone. She had felt the power of the place as soon as she entered the avenue. Even at a distance, astral perception had been difficult; this close to the henge the residual energies produced a kind of glare, effectively cutting off that avenue of scouting. Cautiously, she rose and moved ahead. At the slaughter stone, she cut across the path and slipped down into the ditch. She worked her way past the north barrow before cutting in toward the megaliths of the inner rings.

She halted almost at once.

An elf woman was briefly visible in the open space of the outer ring. She was gone almost before Hartregistered her presence, but the sighting was enough to check Hart's approach. There were others present at the henge. Hart waited, but no one else appeared for a quarter hour.

She studied the shadows into which the woman had disappeared. Scrutiny of the megalith's shadow found the woman and revealed another elf, a dark-haired man. Both of the skulkers wore black suits similar to Hart's. She flicked the control on her goggles, switch- ing from unaided to IR reception, and found that their garments masked their body heat. The thermal disper- sion factor seemed to be even more efficient than her suit. Their equipment was top notch and their lack of 119.

nervous movement marked them as pros. As yet, they seemed unaware of her presence. Were they scouts?

Movement in the darkness caught her eye. A third elf approached. The one wore black synthleathers, andhis pale hair was cut in a sprawl shag that rippled as he moved. He had a flat case strapped to his back, which she recognized from its silhouette as a cyberdeck car- rying case. There was no use for decking equipment here; the leather elf was out of his element tonight.

A fourth person followed him, not an elf but a hu- man. He moved with a slightly awkward run that nev- ertheless covered the open ground quickly. The fringes of his jacket swayed with his movement, blurring his outline.

Alert and quiet, the four waited at the side of the sarsen stone for several minutes. Apparently satisfied that they had tripped no alarms, they held a hushed conference before spreading out to take up ambush positions among the stones of the henge.

Interesting. Were they also after the Hidden Circle?

She worked her way in. With others already present, she was denied the perch she had thought to take; climb- ing to the capstone would attract their attention.

Without knowing who they were and what they wanted here,she could not afford their attention. After all, she had no proof that they weren't an advance party for the Circle, come to secure the site.

It took nearly an hour to get into her alternate po- sition, almost due east from the altar stone. The view of the interior of the circle was nearly as good, but more than half of the approaches, including the ave- nue, were screened by the megaliths.

Her researches had not told her what time might be appropriate for the ceremony, only that it must take place before dawn. She settled in to wait.

She was not sure when she became aware of it, but she realized that the energy of the henge was shifting.

120.

Robert N. Charrette Somewhere, someone was creating a powerfulmagic that touched the henge. She slipped into astral con- sciousness and tried to assess the nature of the energy.

It didn't feel like a normal ritual, and she could as- sense no spotter making a ritual link to the henge.

The astral glare of the henge was shifting, breaking up.

She could discern spirit presences amidst the energy that swept among the stones, like fish on a reef. Those spirit forms were agitated. Moving ever faster, they began to stream out of the henge. Others drifted in, only to follow the path taken by earlier spirits. She shifted her perspective, floating high above the stone circle, and saw that the spirits moved along distinct paths. The ley lines were active.

"Damn!"

The oath focused her attention back to the mundane plane.

The human had come out of hiding and was standing in the center of the circle. His hands were on the altar stone and his face turned to the sky. "They're not here," he shouted. "Those druid bastards are doing their black magic somewhere else."She recognized the voice, though it had been months since she had heard it. Samuel Verner. She had heard that he'd taken the street name Twist since their last encounter.

She had not recognized him when she had seen him, but that was easily explained by the darkness and distance.

From his curse, it was clear that he was not part of the druids' plan. Verner was a runner, not a mover; his pres- ence meant an unknown faction was involved.

The other skulkers left their places to join their part- ner in the center of the ring. The decker elf would be Sam's buddy, Dodger. The other two she didn't know, but as soon as she saw them plainly, she realized that she recognized them. They were the pair who had been leaving the Seelie Court as she had been entering.

Was Lady Deigh running parallel teams, or were they the CHOdSE YOUR ENEMIES CAREFULLY 121 agents of some other power? Had the LordProtector learned of his renegades? Whoever these runners were, they hunted the Hidden Circle as she did.

Already she had been misled by the quarry. If would take fast work to make up the ground. If the energy she had sensed building was as great as she thought, she would need help. And luck. Verner had been lucky be- fore. Since Sam's group was already after the Circle, they might be willing to share the hunt. She wouldn't have to pay them, and might even be able to arrange for them to take any heat the operation generated.

She left her hiding place, arms held clear of her sides, and walked forward. She was acutely conscious of the Beretta Model 70 hanging on its TEAM sling and slapping against her butt. It wouldn't do to be shot by friendlies.

"I'd wish you a good evening, but it doesn't seem to be one. It appears that we have all been disap- pointed."

The dark-clad elves drew weapons and trained themon her. Dodger, still fumbling to clear his gun from an entanglement with his cyberdeck, stepped into the woman's line of fire. She looked annoyed, but shifted competently to get a new line. Sam tensed and Hart felt a flicker of power. Something in the air, she thought. Sam had not been magically active when they had last met. She waited while they searched the sur- rounding darkness, seeking to assure themselves that she was alone.

"Perhaps we can join forces," she said. "With some fast transport, we might be able to raid them before they finish their ritual. The circle's not too far away."

' 'What do you have to do with this?'' the dark-haired elf asked.

Sam ignored his companion, took a step forward, and asked his own question. "To the southwest?"

She nodded.

-----------------122.

Robert N. Charrette "Glover's estate," Dodger said.

Sam slammed his fist onto the altar stone. "We were right on top of their site and never knew it. If we'd stayed, we might have done something, but we'll never fight our way in now." Turning to Hart, he said, "Un- less you've got another dracoform for a partner."

"No more dragons," she said. He gave her an odd look, and she knew that she had not masked all of her emotions. What signal she had sent him, she didn't know. Months later, she still didn't fully understand her own feelings on the matter and Sam's place in them.

"Well, I guess I'm not surprised. A strike team, maybe?"

She shook her head.

"We'll have to try, anyway," he said. "They can't be allowed to complete their ritual."As Sam started to leave the henge, the dark-haired male elf stepped in his way. "Can she be trusted?"

Sam looked up in the elf's face. He waited until the "cM W& 9J&I a187& tea, then sa'ia, "1 was once told never to trust an elf, Estios. It's always seemed like good advice around you."

Sam looked around at his companions, making Hart very conscious of her metatype. The points of her ears felt hot with blood.

"But it seems that I have little choice. I'm a minor- ity of one in this crowd. At the moment, I have to trust anyone who looks like they can do something about the druids. Hart's a professional shadowrunner, ready for action, and willing to help. You want to pass up another soldier? The druids will be prepared for trouble and Glover will have tightened his security.

We'll need all the help we can get."

Estios remained stiff for a second, as if to assert his command of the situation. "Very well. I will call the aircraft."

14The wicker man stood to the south, facing across the chalked lines toward the bare, shield-shaped patch of earth across which they had all entered the ritual area. The silver bowl of blessed water rested in the western point, and the scent of burning herbs rising from the eastern point's brazier filled the clearing.

Only the upper portions of the wicker man would be visible from beyond the surrounding topiary maze.

Save for the wicker man, Glover found it all very familiar. Normally, the golden-tipped spear stood at the southern point, but this was no normal ritual.

This W&S- 2 a163?efft&tty of frlgfr sacrifice , the KottwruTorviaiw rituals. Bound within the wicker were the six chosen sacrifices, the scions of untainted blood. Each limb held one, another lay wrapped within the body and the last was curled in the head. Gordon stood before the mannikin holding an unlit torch, half concealed by the flowing sleeves of his plain white robe. He seemed pensive and subdued. Was he contemplating his forth- coming role?The symbols were all in place; it was time to begin.

Gordon abandoned his vigil in front of the wicker man and walked to his place near the center of the ring, careful to avoid stepping on any of the chalked lines.

As he reached the unfinished pentacle in which he was to stand, he was met by David Neville. Gordon took ^his place, and young Neville completed the diagram.

I Across the clearing, the druids moved to their stations, ghostly white shapes drifting in the dark. Each wore a ritual robe topped off with the golden brow band and Robert N. Charrette head cloth of an initiate. Sir Winston, leader of the ceremony, was distinguished from his peers by a heavy gold pectoral bearing the sun-in-splendor insignia of his totem.Everything was in order. Glover could find nothing amiss, nothing to hint that Hyde-White might be right.

The ceremonial ring was laid out exactly according to the specifications in the ritual they had all worked out.

The geometries were accurate, the symbols appropri- ate. What could go wrong?

Neville stood in the center of the ring, naming each participant and building the protective magics.

Glover studied the archdruid. Neville appeared steady and in control; only a touch of anticipation marred his calm.

A faint glow was beginning to manifest around him as the energies awoke.

Glover joined the circle, adding his energies to the spell. Neville continued around the ring until he reached Hyde-White. With the inclusion of the fat man, the ritual circle was complete. Glover noticed that Hyde-White's aura was subdued, as if he had not committed himself wholly to the ritual. A less com- petent shaman might have fatally flawed the ritualby such reservation, but Hyde-White's power was well above the commitment needed.

Neville led the opening chant, his reedy voice ring- ing out to be answered by the combined voices of the other druids. He called upon the earth to heed their call, offering praise to all that was natural and stating the Circle's commitment to restoring the land's bal- ance. He paused before making the offer of sacrifice.

Neville nodded to Gordon, who held his unlit brand on high. Gathering strands from each of the druids'

power, Neville wove them into a lance of light and speared it toward Gordon. The amber beam struck the torch, igniting it in a burst of flame and spark.

To the accompaniment of the rhythmic spell chant, .

Gordon walked to the edge of the ring and faced the wicker man. He held the torch to the end of the man- nikin's left arm until the flames caught. Then, he thrust it deep into the leg and released his grip, leaving it to kindle another nest of hungry fire. He bowed to the wicker man before returning to his place in thecenter of the pentacle and facing Neville.

"We give holocaust. Let the sky accept our offer- ing," he said.

The druids continued their spell song, raising their volume as the fire spread through the wicker man.

Sanchez, the first of the sacrifices to be consumed, died without a sound. The druids sang louder.

The howl of tearing metal and the crack of splinter- ing wood ripped across their voices, driving the chant to an abrupt halt. The cacophony issued from some- where near the house. Glover searched for the source.

Behind the outbuildings, an unkempt shape was ris- ing. The irregular mass of shifting material humped up into a huge, dark mass of refuse and debris until its top was several meters higher than the roof of the nearest structure. The thing taking shape beyond the hedges lurched, its bulk shifting toward the circle. It might have been tottering, about to fall, but a second lurch dispelled that illusion. Whatever the thing was, it had begun to move toward them."David," Sir Winston called calmly above the ex- cited questions of the other druids. "We must not be interrupted."

"I will hold it, father."

David Neville eased his energies from the complex that the druids had created. Glover pushed harder, tak- ing his share of the slack. His concentration was lack- ing, for his eyes were continually drawn to the approaching entity.

The growing light of the burning wicker lit the shape. With each step it became more defined. From 126.

Robert N. Charrette an amorphous thing, it was resolving itself into a gnarled and hulking man shaped of refuse from the midden heap and fragments of the abandoned carriage house. It was a golem made of trash, and its outlinewas the same as that of the wicker man.

One of the sacrifices screamed, the flames burning through his drugged haze, and the thing jerked.

Piece by piece, Barnett's car, an ancient petrol-burning an- tique, tore itself apart, chunks whirling free to soar through the air and join with the mound. It grew and shambled forward.

David Neville faced it from within the ring of hedge.

He was careful not to step past the safety of the mag- ical barrier provided by the chalked circle. He stood straight, arms outstretched and palms raised to be- seech aid.

"By the powers of sky, I command thee. By the powers of the earth, I bid thee be gone. I stand firm on the land, caressed by the wind, and cast thee forth."

Attuned to the astral, Glover could see the energy gather around David before bursing forth to strike the thing. The glittering darkness of the monster's aura absorbed the power, swallowing the bright beam as if it had never been. Glover's mouth went dry. YoungNeville was a prig and a snob, but he had power and had specialized in dealing with astral entities.

Glover had seen him dismiss unruly spirits often enough.

Whatever this was, it already had power enough to resist him.

A gap opened in the chest of the trash thing, a dark maw fanged with leaf springs, bumpers, and metal fragments, and a stream of semi-liquified garbage spewed forth to drench Neville. He stagged back, retching. The pool of refuse at his feet solidified and trapped him where he stood. Dripping tendrils of slime hardened, freezing his motion. His legs disappeared, 127.

encased in the ever deeper flow of filth that poured from the horrid monstrosity. Neville tried again to shout the formula of dismissal, but the commands gurgled to a strangled stop as the growing mound over- topped his head and entombed him.

The thing convulsed, apparently collapsing in on it- self as if Neville's dismissal had finally taken effect.

It was a false hope. The narrow bridge of offal and rub- bish expanded where it met the golem. A bulge, likea pig in a python, moved along the connection of gar- bage. The greater part of the monster's bulk formed that bulge as the great mass outside the maze trans- ferred itself along that slender bridge. The mound that concealed young Neville thickened, ballooning out as the mass concentrated. The debris pile stretched and contorted until the trash thing reformed its shape and stood on the spot where he had opposed it.

Barnett cast a spell at the monster, flames arcing from his outthrust hand to splash against the hulk.

Steam and smoke billowed up, but though small fires flickered on the affected area, the garbage golem did not react to the attack.

Hyde-White stood riveted in trance, sweat rolling in sheets across his vast expanses of flesh. Like Glover, he gathered in the strands of power as druids left the ritual to devote their energies to fighting off the in- truder. Glover had little time to appreciate the old man's struggle; assimilating his part of the added bur- den was taxing his own control.The other druids cast spells and attempted their own banishments. Their efforts had some effect; the mon- strosity seemed confined between the outer and inner protective rings of the great chalk circle. Fitzgilbert ventured too close to the thing and was struck down by a flailing limb of rusted metal and decaying wood.

Debris showered them as he collapsed to the ground, his neck broken by the blow.

128.

Robert N. Charrette Glover's arm was seized in a bone-racking grip.

Hyde-White had crossed the ring. Leaving his place had been a necessity for the fat man; the trash thing occupied that space.