by John Moore
“Stand back.”
Around her the ground was rippling and trembling like a storm-tossed sea. The trees were shaking and raining down leaves and dead branches. A low-pitched moaning rode the wind and sent shivers down her spine.
“Here it comes,” shouted the Prince.
With a mighty roar a column of water erupted from the ground and sprang into the air. Thousands of gallons per minute ripped through the soil and climbed out of sight in the clear blue sky. Somewhere beneath the clouds, the furiously rushing torrent spent its energy and the fountainhead broke up and fell back. The group found itself in a torrential downpour.
“Oh, no, I’m soaked.”
Charming was laughing. “Yeah.” Then he saw the way the wet cotton of her dress was clinging to her breasts and quickly swiveled his gaze away.
Mandelbaum was waving his hands and trying to get the fountain under control. Responding to his ministrations, the column of water began swaying back and forth like a palm tree in a hurricane, scattering water for hundreds of yards across the forest. Finally it bent completely over, the dense column of water forming a perfect arc across the hedge of thorns.
“Nice job,” said the Prince.
“But we can’t ride on that. We’ll be killed.”
“He’s not done yet. Now comes the good part.” Mandelbaum looked at them and winked. Then he waved his hands and Ann became aware of the silence.
Charming was walking towards Mandelbaum. She followed him. A chill breeze seemed to spring up suddenly and she shivered in her wet clothes. She realized that the forest wasn’t really silent, there was the same rustling of leaves and chirping of birds as before. It was only the thunderous roar of the water that no longer assaulted her ears. Yet she could still see the beautifully curved arc standing before her. Wendell came up with a towel and she took it gratefully. When she had wiped the water from her face and eyes, she took another good look at the fountain and it all became clear.
“Why, it’s frozen. You’ve turned it into ice.”
“Don’t touch it,” warned the Prince. “Your skin will stick to it. I have some gloves for you.”
“It’s very cold,” said Mandelbaum. “It will maintain its structural integrity for several hours. That should be plenty of time for you to find the princess, kiss her, and get out of there, providing you resist the urge to explore.”
“Hmmph,” said Ann.
“Why ‘hmmph’?”
“Oh, come now. You’re not really going to kiss this Aurora person, assuming she exists, are you?”
“Why shouldn’t I?”
“Prince Charming! You don’t even know her!”
“How can I get to know her? She’s under a spell.”
“That’s just what I mean. You can’t just go into a girl’s bedroom and kiss her while she’s asleep. She can’t give her consent. It’s almost rape.”
“If rescuing her means kissing her, then I’ll just have to kiss her. That’s my job. I’m a prince.”
“It’s perverse.”
“You’re just jealous.”
“Jealous? Me? Ha!”
“I can see this is the sort of pointless discussion that can drag on for days,” said Mandelbaum. “Why don’t you continue it while you’re climbing? Two hours will pass by more quickly than you think.”
“Right,” said Charming. “Wendell is getting us the ropes and ice axes.”
“No,” said Wendell. “Mandelbaum told me not to bring them.”
“I have a surprise for you,” said the wizard. “This is a little refinement I added since the last time you saw this stunt.” He produced a silver teaspoon from one of his many pockets, blew lightly on the bowl, and polished it lovingly against his cloak. Holding the spoon delicately between thumb and forefinger, he leaned over to the ice bridge and gave it the most delicate of taps.
There was a tiny “ting” like the ringing of a crystal goblet. The sound broadened and deepened, taking on a dozen harmonics and undertones. The sound lasted for several minutes, fading at times, and then growing louder, racing back and forth through the frozen structure. Abruptly it stopped. Then fine shards of ice began to flake away from the arch, falling to the ground and glittering in the sunlight. When the spell had completed itself, the Prince found himself looking at an elaborate and perfect stairway carved into the mass of frozen water.
“All right!” said the Prince.
“Nice,” said Ann. “Very nice indeed.”
“Got me two nominations for the magician’s Golden Pentaflex award,” said Mandelbaum proudly. “Best New Spell and Best Special Effect.”
“Right. Well, guess I better trot on over there and kiss this babe. It’s a tough job, but somebody’s got to do it.”
He donned a pair of gloves and started up the stairs without looking back. Ann hesitated, then followed him. The ice was slippery, as ice can be, and she lost her balance on the third step. The Prince caught her arm. He was wearing hobnailed boots so he had no trouble walking, and he put his arm around her to hold her steady.
Wendell, whose boots were also hobnailed, stopped on the first step and turned around. “Mandelbaum, was this an expensive spell?”
“Very expensive, Wendell.”
“More so than the bag of smoke idea?”
“Oh, yes. Tremendously.”
“Then why didn’t you push harder for the bag of smoke?”
Mandelbaum glanced at the Prince, who was out of earshot. He leaned over so his mouth was next to Wendell’s ear. “It’s a government job, son. Someday you’ll understand.” Wendell shrugged and followed the Prince up the icy stair.
Climbing the arch was not hard work, and the ice was carved roughly enough so that the footing was no more treacherous than walking, say, on a frozen winter lake. Still, the arch, at its apex, was more than a hundred feet in the air, and this was enough to keep the Prince and his party moving with the utmost caution. The thorn hedge, when seen from above, looked no more inviting than when seen from the side, and promised an unpleasant landing for anyone who slipped. It was about thirty yards wide, so the trip across the ice bridge would bring them a little to the other side the hedge. At the top of the arch, Charming stopped and waited for the others to catch up. Ann was only some dozen steps below him and Wendell was just behind her. She came up to his shoulder, panting slightly, and said, “Oh, my!”
“It’s not bad,” the Prince admitted.
“I like ours better,” said Wendell.
They were looking at a castle. It was an impressive sight, and clearly the sort of structure where form preceded function. It was constructed of glazed, white brick, and trimmed with what was once bright blue paint but was now faded and cracked. It design featured those high arched windows of the type that drove upstairs maids crazy, and the roof sported a myriad of crenellated turrets and spinnerets that served no obvious purpose except to look cute. The doors and shutters were of carved, polished wood and a brace of carved stone lions flanked the front entrance. Although the castle had suffered from twenty years of neglect (the hinges to the front door had rusted away, for example), it was still a relatively new structure. The moat was apparently spring fed, for the water was deep and clear, and no stream led into or away from it. A wide expanse of lawn stretched away on all sides until it met the surrounding thorn hedge. The grass needed cutting. The tattered remains of a flag hung sadly from the tower.
“So much for our grail quest. This place can’t be more than thirty years old.”
“Oh, I like it anyway,” said Ann. “It’s so light and airy. What a perfect spot for a wedding.”
“Dragon,” said the Prince.
“What?”
Charming had produced a small brass spyglass from inside his tunic and was sweeping it back and forth over the scene. “Wendell, the carriages.”
“I see them.”
“See what?”
There were two lines of perhaps a dozen carriages each parked in front of the castle. They were in no better
shape than the castle, the effects of time and weather having taken their toll on bright paint and velvet curtains and leather harnesses. On some, a wheel or two had rotted away, leaving the carriage canted over at some odd angle; a few of them had toppled over completely. Tall grass grew between the wheels. Charming handed the spyglass to Ann. “Take a look at those two carriages.”
Ann put the glass to her eye. Upon closer inspection, the two carriages did not appear to have fallen over by themselves. All their wheels were intact, and there were long, parallel scores in the wooden bodies. The top of one vehicle had been ripped completely off, as if by a tremendous force, leaving shattered lengths of wood protruding through the roof. It was clear that some powerful beast had broken the carriage and torn it open like the shell of a crab.
“What do we do now?”
“Keep your eyes open,” said the Prince.
“Are we going to keep on?”
“Hmm. You’d better go back.”
“If you’re going, I’m going.”
“Fine.” Charming had drawn his sword a few inches from its scabbard and was testing the edge with his thumb. “Let Wendell come up front, though. I’ll need him by my side.”
Wendell and Ann slid beside each other and the party started down the other side of the arch, the Prince leading, followed by Wendell, followed by Ann. The descent was slightly more treacherous than the climb up, for the ice was starting to melt and taking on a slippery wet sheen. Nonetheless, they reached the ground without mishap and stepped off the ice arch into cool green grass that was knee high. The Prince headed immediately to the castle doors.
“But what about the dragon?” Ann hurried to stay up with him.
“Probably inside. If he was outside, we’d have seen him.”
“But if he’s inside, shouldn’t we be outside?”
“No, we should be inside and the dragon outside. Unfortunately there are too many broken doors and windows to keep him out, so that strategy isn’t going to do us much good.”
“But, are you really going to try to slay him without a horse and lance?”
“Hey, let’s take this one step at a time. We’ll just take a look around first.”
The front doors were open. Charming put hand on one and pushed gently. The remaining hinge squealed. He pulled his hand away, faced the other two, and put a finger to his lips. Ann and Wendell nodded. The Prince eased his body through the opening and slipped inside. He waited while Wendell, then Ann followed him,
The front hall was dusty, but in excellent condition. Ann expected to see cobwebs, hornets’ nests, rodent droppings, curtains and tapestries chewed by mice. Instead, the fixtures and furnishings looked worn by time but largely spared by the wildlife. She whispered to Charming, “Pretty good shape.”
Charming nodded. He glided over to a window. The bodies of half a dozen flies were lying on the sill. “Dead.”
“Not sleeping?”
The Prince shook his head. There was a cricket in the corner of the floor and he touched it with the tip of his sword. The insect was a dried, dehydrated husk. “Dead. Some spell.”
“Where are the people?”
“Gathered for the wedding? Let’s look for the chapel.” They moved deeper into the building, passing through hallways and libraries and sitting rooms, moving steadily toward the center of the castle. They found the wedding guests, or rather, what remained of them. They were not gathered in the chapel, but in the great dining hall that was to hold the wedding feast. Long tables were arrayed against the walls, heaped with gold platters and fine porcelain dishes. Crystal goblets held the evaporated residue of what was once a noble vintage. The guests were desiccated skeletons. Shreds of their fine silk garments could be seen clinging to their bones, but empty sockets stared from the well-gnawed skulls. The bones had been piled in a heap in the center of the room and on top of this heap slept the dragon.
Charming drew his head back around the corner and motioned the others to follow him. They retreated down the hall until they found a small, isolated library. High casement windows topped shelves of dusty books and knick-knacks. Charming dusted off a leather chair for Ann, and sat down on one himself. He leaned one elbow one his knee, rested his chin on his hand, and stared thoughtfully into space for a long while.
Ann and Wendell waited in respectful silence.
Finally the Prince spoke. “Wendell.”
“Yes, sire?”
“Sometimes it’s okay to show a little fear.”
“Oh, my,” said Ann. “Oh, it’s so ugly. I’ve never seen one before. And it stinks, too.”
“The odor of carrion. I make it to be about twelve feet long. What do you think, Wendell?”
“Fourteen, counting the spikes on the tail.”
“Did you see the missing scales on the back and sides?”
“Yes, Sire. They get awfully mean when they’re molting.”
“Okay.” Charming leaned back and rocked the chair on two legs. “Let’s assess the situation. We’ve got a fourteen-foot green, spiked dragon, male, possibly in molt, chipped upper-left fang, missing one claw on the right hind foot, with three claws each on the other feet, crested head, dorsal ridge, apparently healthy, certainly vicious. Presently asleep in a confined space.”
“Um,” said Ann, “That’s about the way I see it, too.”
“Figure a six-foot range for the flame,” said Wendell. “The hall is about forty feet by one hundred feet. Double door main entrance on the south end, two doors on each side leading to hallways, two small swinging doors in the back, probably to the kitchen.”
Charming nodded. “Twelve windows, evenly spaced, eight feet high and starting four feet from the floor. Lots of broken furniture and debris scattered about.”
“Foot-work will be treacherous.”
“Right.” The Prince unbuckled his sword and handed it to Wendell. “Go for it.”
“Sire?”
“You said you wanted to slay a dragon. Now is your chance.”
“Charming!” said Ann.
“I can do it,” said Wendell. He reached to take the sword from Charming but seemed to have difficulty working his fingers. When he finally got his hands wrapped around the scabbard, he pulled out Endeavor and looked at it. The hand-forged steel, lightly oiled, gleamed in the daylight and the finely hone edge glowed like fire. He cast the scabbard aside and held the sword up, pointed toward the ceiling. “All right.”
Charming was looking at him without expression. Ann was shocked. “Okay,” said Wendell. “Back in a minute.” In his daydreams he had always followed this up with some dashing, witty remark before going off to do battle. But now he found himself at a loss for witty remarks so he opted instead to thrust out his jaw in a manly scowl before turning on his heel and striding resolutely toward the door.
Before he took three steps he felt Charming’s hand on his shoulder. “Just kidding, Wendell. It was a joke. Give me the sword back.”
“Oh,” said Ann. “That’s not funny.”
Wendell gave up the sword reluctantly. “I knew it. You never let me do anything.”
“Sorry, Wendell. Maybe next time, eh?”
“You always say that.” Now that it was too late, Wendell had thought of a dashing remark, so he was doubly upset.
“Hey,” said the Prince. He leaned down next to the boy and spoke confidentially. “I’m only doing this one because there’s a babe to impress here. Otherwise, I’d let you slay him. Really. I mean it.”
Wendell glanced at Ann. “Well, I guess so. I’ll carry your sword up to the hall.”
Charming shook his head. “You stay back here.”
Wendell was so astounded he could hardly talk. When he finally did get the words out, he was choking with indignation. “You’re leaving me back with the girls!”
Ann said, “Well, excuse me.”
“It’s just one girl. I want you to stay back here and protect her. Come on, Wendell, you know how dragons are around maidens.”
�
�Oh, yeah. Well, okay.”
“Fine, then. You hold the fort here, and I’ll slay this beast and be back in a few minutes. Then I guess we can break for lunch.”
“All right.”
Charming winked at Ann, clapped Wendell on the shoulder, and strode confidently away. Before he could reach the door, Ann ran forward. She stood silently before the Prince and then suddenly hugged him. Charming, caught by surprise, took her in his arms. “Be careful,” she whispered.
“I will.”
“Sheesh,” said Wendell.
Charming left the two of them behind a bolted door and went back to the great dining hall. The dragon was still asleep upon its pile of bones.
Now it has been widely observed that many animals, when sleeping, display a kind of helpless vulnerability that makes them look harmless and cuddly. A big and vicious grizzly bear, lying curled in the sun, can seem as warm and playful as a cocker spaniel; the most sadistic warrior, when dozing, appears as innocent as a child, and even vermin such as toads and snakes take on a kind of cute, toy-like appearance.
This is not true of dragons.
The green spiked dragon is neither the biggest nor the most dangerous of its ilk, but it does have a qualifiable nastiness to its demeanor that is perhaps shared only by the barracuda and certain sub-species of wharf rat. This dragon, in fact, looked even nastier than most. A great row of crooked, sharp teeth protruded from its underslung jaw and there were scars around its eyes, probably from rooting some creature out of its burrow. Ticks crawled on its back and it was a good guess there were mites and fleas as well, if one cared to get a closer look. Its scales were dirty and dull, but the muscles beneath betrayed a lithe power and the claws, like the teeth, were razor sharp. It was curled in a loose ball with its nose resting on its tail and a thin trickle of drool emanating from the side of its mouth. (Dragons tend to drool a lot. In fact, the worst thing about fighting dragons is that when they first open their mouths to flame you, you are likely to be showered with dragon spit. All knights really hate this part and it’s the sort of thing that doesn’t get mentioned during those romantic evenings of bragging by the fireside.)
Charming reflected on all this while watching the dragon from the doorway with Endeavor in his hand. He breathed quietly and shallowly while he took in the dragon, the room, the location of all the entrances and exits, the position of the furniture, the windows, the light, and the various obstacles scattered about that could trip up a man if he wasn’t watching where he was going, like if he was preoccupied with fighting for his life. “Okay,” he told himself silently. “This is not such a problem. He’s asleep. I’ll walk over there very quietly, being very careful not to disturb him, and put this sword through the eye socket before he knows what hit him. It’s been done.”
