"Yeah," the chief breathed, forming his first smile.
"Bye-bye, Grandpa," Gloha said, kissing him on the cheek. The goblin glowered, but could not quite hide his ungoblinish pleasure.
Then Gloha flew to Cheiron's back, and he leaped into the air, flicked himself, and spread his wings. The downdraft blasted a cloud of sand into the chief's face. Cheiron pretended not to notice. After all, sandblasting would probably improve the gob's complexion.
"Don't take me home," Gloha said. "I'll go with you to Mount Rushmost."
"But you should not be involved in ugly business like this," he protested.
"Yes I should. If another goblin tribe did this, you will need someone to negotiate who they won't attack right away."
"But that would be risky for you, Gloha. You know that regular centaurs don't like crossbreeds; some goblins may not like them either."
"That may be," she argued, "but I run a worse risk if I don't get out and meet folk."
"A worse risk?"
"Old maidism."
Now more of her motive came clear. She was fifteen, and just about ready for romance. Her own tribe might be tolerant of a winged goblin, but goblins were generally exogamous, preferring to marry outside their home tribes. This could serve as an excellent pretext to meet many males from many tribes, and discover who was tolerant and who was not. Her decision to check the goblin tribes rather than the harpy flocks was sensible; there were still so few male harpies that she would make vicious enemies just by trying.
"Very well, if your father approves."
"He'll approve," she said confidently.
No doubt. Like most teenage girls, she could twist her father around her littlest finger, just as she did with her grandfather on the goblin side. Cheiron had to admit that she could indeed be useful, because most goblins were surly and guilty ones would be worse. How surly would they be when they encountered her? Several rungs, grades, and degrees less than otherwise, surely, especially if there were young young males who were interested in pretty young females. That was to say, all of them.
They flew on to Mount Rushmost. Cheiron felt marginally better, because the scope of the plot had been reduced. But the matter was still desperately serious.
A harpy flew up as he landed. "News, horse-bird!" she screeched. "I saw your foal!"
"Where?" Cheiron asked, excited.
"Trudging south with a funny big elf, captive of the Golden Horde."
Cheiron felt a terrible chill. "The horde? Are you sure?"
"Sure I'm sure!" she screeched. "That's my home territory. I snatch their leavings. That's why I watch them. When their spies reported fresh meat on the river, they hustled up there and nabbed it, with help from Fracto the cloud. I'll bet they're going to cook them both!"
Cheiron was seldom speechless, but for some reason he was this time. So Gloha filled in for him. "Thank you, harpy. We appreciate your information, and will go there immediately to rescue Che." Then she reconsidered. "Did you say an elf?"
"Yes, an odd one," the harpy screeched. "Pointed ears and four-fingered hands. A girl, bigger than any other."
"She must have gotten very weak, so far from her elm."
"She was tired but not weak," the harpy screeched. "She was helping the foal when he stumbled. They looked like friends." She laughed raucously. "Can you imagine! Friends!" She spread her wings and took off, her backdraft smelling awful, in the typical harpy way.
Cheiron remembered something Chex had said, as she had babbled out her message: she had briefly encountered an odd elf girl, and her orange cat. Could this be the same elf? How did this relate to the abduction of Che? And how could they be friends? Che had no elf friends; the elves generally kept to their own business, and there was no elm near the home glade. They were good enough folk and a bulwark against goblins in their territory. But Che must have met her since the abduction. Friends? Che was more choosy than that!
But the elf was captive too, evidently. Maybe she had been traveling alone and the goblins had captured her on the same foray, so had lumped the two together. That would not be friendship, but common misery. That made more sense. Nevertheless, he could afford to take nothing for granted. "We shall have to rescue that elf, too," he said.
"Oh, good!" Gloha exclaimed. "I'd love to meet her. I get along well with odd creatures."
He knew what she meant. There were a number of one-of-a-kind or few-of-a-kind creatures, often the results of crossbreeding. In addition to the winged centaurs there was Grundy the Golem, and his wife Rapunzel, who was a human-elven crossbreed who could change sizes and had the most marvelous hair in Xanth. There was Gloha herself. Naturally she related well; she knew what it was like to be unique in species.
But right now he had to take action. With Che the captive of the Goblinate of the Golden Horde—the very worst place to be—he had to take necessary steps immediately. He did not acknowledge that it might already be too late, that the goblins could have boiled the foal at dawn; that simply was not a viable option. He had to assume that the goblins would play with their victims a while, torturing them psychologically before proceeding to physical mistreatment and finally the boiling. He had to assume that he had at least this day to organize for the recovery.
For this was not a mission that could be simply accomplished. The horde was vicious, with its horrible hate spring, and any ill-planned effort would result in disaster. Oh, the winged monsters would gladly exterminate the entire horde, but that would be useless if Che died in the process. So Cheiron schooled himself to do what was most difficult at the moment: nothing. He had to get more information before he acted, and then act with extreme dispatch.
"Gloha, may I ask a favor of you?" he asked.
"Of course, Cheiron," she said. "I want to help."
"Go to Dragon Net and tell him I wish to organize a posse to rescue my foal," he said. "But not only must it be capable of handling the goblins of the Golden Horde, it must be highly disciplined and not strike until we are ready. Ask him to have it ready by day's end, if possible."
She considered, evidently worried about the delay, but deferred to his judgment. "I will tell him," she said, and flew away across the flat surface of the mountain.
Cheiron walked across to where Chex was sleeping, with Grundy Golem on her back, similarly asleep. What a wonderful thing it had been when Chex came into his life! He had been the only winged centaur in Xanth, then had heard of a young female. But a centaur did not develop an association with another centaur merely because the other existed. The situation and the other centaur had to be right. The female was young and inexperienced and had not yet figured out how to fly. She was a fine looking specimen, healthy and resolute, but inexperienced. The fact that she was beautiful and winged was not enough; did she have the character required of the species as he foresaw it? He would have to test her and find out.
As it happened, she tested well, and later she learned to fly. He had not told her how, of course; part of her proving of herself was in achieving this without help. Then they had married, and the Simurgh herself had overseen the ceremony and sworn all the monsters to safeguard their offspring. That had been a surprise; Cheiron had in mind a stable new species, but evidently there was more to it than that. What was Che's destiny? It had to be considerable, for never in known history had the Simurgh left her perch in the Tree of Seeds to participate in such an event.
Could that destiny be why Che had been abducted? Was someone aware of the future and determined to change it by eliminating the centaur before he came of age to achieve that destiny? If so, this was worse than a conspiracy to resume the war between monsters; this was an effort to change destiny itself. Cheiron would have found that chilling even if it hadn't been his beloved foal at stake.
Chex detected his presence and woke. She smiled. What a lovely creature she was! "Have you located Che?" she asked.
"Yes. There is a complication. I am handling it."
"Oh, good," she said, visibly relieved, and relax
ed back into sleep.
He had done the minimum he had to: he had told her part of it. He saw nothing to be gained by telling her exactly where Che was. That would only send her into as close an approach to being hysterical as she could manage. He was indeed handling it, and with luck the rescue mission would be organized and on its way before she caught up on her sleep and demanded further information.
He saw swift little dragonflies taking off for points north, east, west, and south, leaving tiny contrails. Dragon Net was sending out his minions to summon the creatures of the posse. The dragonflies would know where to find the fiercest yet most disciplined monsters, and would bring them back here as fast as possible. Cheiron was satisfied; he knew he could leave the organization of the posse to Dragon Net, knowing that it would be competently done.
Indeed, already there was a medium-small dragon coming in. How fast word spread!
But this dragon sought Cheiron, not Net. "I have seen your foal!" he gasped, his fire almost out. He had evidently flown swiftly, gaining on the clumsy harpy, and had a significantly later report. "He was riding a sphinx in the company of girls and goblins, and one of them had a magic wand! They used the wand to twist my companion and me out of the sky, but not before we could see that something strange was afoot!"
Cheiron was amazed. Che riding a sphinx? Sphinxes cared little for the affairs of other creatures. Girls? What were they doing in this business? Goblins on a sphinx? That was strangest of all!
He got the dragon to describe the other folk as well as it could, and gradually he pieced it together. One girl was stunningly beautiful: that sounded like Nada Naga. Chex had said that a number of search parties had gone out, and the two Betrothees of Prince Dolph formed one party. The dragon had also noted the pointed ears of the elf girl. So the Betrothees could have rescued Che and the elf, and then Prince Dolph could have come and assumed the form of a sphinx, so as to carry them. The goblins must be prisoners, perhaps hostages. So Che had been saved.
But the dragon said the party was going north, away from Che's home. That seemed to make no sense! The sphinx could have crunched right through the goblin camp, gone directly home, and been there by now. Why was it going the wrong way?
"You look puzzled, centaur," a voice said.
He looked but saw nothing. "Who are you?" he demanded, in no mood for mischief.
A form appeared, vaguely human. "I am D. Metria."
"A demon!" he exclaimed. "You're no winged monster! You don't belong here."
"Yes I am," the figure said, sprouting wings and breasts. "Yes I do. I have come to impart olds that will interest you and cause you much perplexity."
"Impart what?"
"History, information, bulletin, communication, ancient or recent intelligence—"
"News?"
"Whatever." She flapped her wings in annoyance. "About your foal. But if you aren't interested—" She began slowly fading.
"I am interested," Cheiron said quickly.
"Well, you didn't act interested." She faded further.
Cheiron suspected that she was teasing him. He did not appreciate it. "Either impart your news or fade out entirely," he snapped, turning away.
"What will you give me for it?"
"Nothing, because I do not trust demons." He walked on ignoring her.
This evidently unsettled her. "Do you have a creature who can verify truth? Let me talk to that one."
"The zombie owl can do that," he said shortly. "Over there." He pointed to the perch where the decrepit bird slept by day.
The demoness flew to the owl. "Listen, you rotter," she said, "tell the centaur whether I speak truth. The Prince's Betrothees made a deal with Godiva Goblin of Goblin Mountain to work together to save the foal from the Golden Horde and then decide where he should go, because neither side wanted the foal dead. They saved the foal with the help of the foreign elf girl, and then played a game of godo to decide. Godiva won, so they had to help her take the foal to Goblin Mountain."
The owl opened one big rancid eye. "Trhoo," it squawked.
So it was true! This complicated things further. If a deal had been made to save Che, he could not in honor abrogate it. Goblin Mountain was bad, but not nearly as bad as the Golden Horde. "Why north? That's not the way to Goblin Mountain either."
"They had to flee north until Prince Dolph caught up to them," Metria said. "Then the horde had covered all points south, so they had to plan a route the other way around the Elements, traveling together. It seemed less risky. If the girls had won, the Prince could have taken the smaller party directly through the air to the foal's home."
"Trhoo," the owl agreed.
"So they are all traveling together," Cheiron concluded, "because all are bound to see Che safely to his destination."
"You got it, centaur," the demoness agreed. "Doesn't that make your tail feathers squirm?"
"Why does Goblin Mountain want Che?"
"I wasn't interested enough to investigate that."
"Fhalse," the owl said.
"Oh shut up, you odd bird!" the demoness snapped. Then, to Cheiron: "I just think you'll squirm more if I leave something to your imagination."
"Trhoo."
Cheiron knew he would not get any more useful information from her. "Thank you, demoness," he said. "I will take it from here."
"Aren't you going to go rescue your foal?"
"In due course."
"If you hurry, you can do it before they reach Goblin Mountain."
"I am aware of that."
Her demonic eyes glittered. "So?"
"So I'll wait," he said, wishing she would go away. But there was almost no way to make a demon depart short of an exorcism, and he lacked that talent.
Her eyes rounded in simulated surprise. "You mean you will let the nasty goblins get your innocent foal into their awful mountain, from which little short of all-out war will dislodge him?"
"Yes."
"But why, centaur? Isn't that foolish, even to your kind?"
He knew she was baiting him and getting her demonic jollies therefrom, but he had to answer. "No. It is a question of honor. A deal was made to save Che, and that deal has to be honored. So we shall rescue Che after that deal has been honored."
"But that will require a battalion of the most ferocious monsters you can muster—and then you'll have to dismantle the mountain level by level to reach the foal."
"Yes."
She shook her head. "That should be fun. I shall be sure to watch the show." She faded out.
Some show! But despite her cruel teasing, she was right: it would be one horrendous job to reduce that mountain, and it would expose Che to unconscionable risk. But what he had not told the demoness was that he had another way in mind.
It would be a while yet before the posse was assembled. Now he could relax, getting some necessary rest before the campaign began. As he saw it, the sphinx, traveling at normal sphinx velocity, would not arrive until evening. The night would not be good for an attack by flying creatures. So they had until the following morning to get there and get set up. Then they would see.
One thing was sure: Che Centaur was not going to remain prisoner in Goblin Mountain.
Cheiron slept on his feet beside Chex, waiting out the day. Periodically reports came in. A roc arrived, the hugest of birds, and squawked in its deafening language. Grundy Golem woke from his nap on Chex's back, and took the message, for Grundy's talent was language.
"He says the sphinx passed through the realm of the birds, and Che was there with the others and seemed healthy."
"Thank you," Cheiron said, and Grundy emitted a loud squawk, translating. Actually Cheiron could understand bird language pretty well himself, from long association, but he preferred to let the golem feel useful.
Later a griffin arrived, a handsome creature with the body of a lion and the head of an eagle, whose hide was the color of shoe polish. Grundy translated again, and so they learned that the party had passed through that region safely. Che
still seemed well, and friendly with the odd elf.
By this time Chex was awake, and Cheiron updated her on developments. "So Che is safe, but we have to allow him to be taken to Goblin Mountain," he concluded.
"Yes, of course," she agreed, appreciating the necessity of honoring the deal that had enabled Nada and Electra to save the foal from the horrendous clutches of the Goblinate of the Golden Horde. "Then when the party goes on, we must question that elf, who is obviously the one I encountered. I believe her cat located Che, but she was then made prisoner by the goblins along with Che, and they have been companions in adversity. I suspect she has been a mainstay of support for him, because he has evidently borne up surprisingly well. This would not have been the case had he been alone."
Cheiron agreed. Che was bright in the centaur way, but emotionally remained a foal, and could not have handled the horror of captivity by the horde by himself. But with a companion to shield him from the full impact, he could have survived, and evidently had. That spoke volumes for the elf girl. Perhaps she had no special virtues, but she had been there at the critical time, and that made all the difference.
In the afternoon, Dragon Net's posse was ready. It consisted of one flying sphinx, two chimaerae, three rocs, four griffins, five flying dragons, and a flock of harpies. There were hosts of tiny dragonflies and fireflies as a support group, and a cockatrice for close work.
One of the dragons was Draco of Mount Etamin, immediately to the south of Goblin Mountain. He was a fire-drake, not large for a dragon, but versatile, because he could traverse caves, even when they extended under water. He had attended Cheiron's nuptial ceremony, bringing Prince Dolph, who had assumed the form of a dragonfly for the occasion. Draco knew the region well, and would serve as a guide for the members of the posse who were from farther afield. Cheiron was glad to see him; there was no substitute for direct knowledge of the terrain.
Before they took off, Cheiron briefed them. "My foal, Che, will be the captive of the tribe of goblins residing at Goblin Mountain. We do not know why they abducted him, but the indication is that they do not plan to harm him. There is no present evidence that they intend to use him politically; apparently this is a private matter. It is possible that it relates to Che's identification by the supreme winged monster, the Simurgh, as one whose life will change the course of the history of Xanth. The goblins may believe that by controlling him, they control Xanth. We can not allow this, either in terms of the history of Xanth or as a personal matter, as he is my foal."
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