Dragon on a Pedestal

by Piers Anthony

"My bride-to-be, tomorrow," Xavier said proudly. "Ain't she something special?"

  "But--"

  Zzapp! Irene was horrified to see a small hole appear in the woman's body. She had walked too close to the swarm, and been in the path of the wiggle!

  But the woman paid no attention. "Wiggles can't hurt me," she remarked, and used two stones to crush the worm that had just holed her.

  It was Zora Zombie--so much restored by requited love that she looked virtually normal! Her hair was now thick and black, her flesh was firm and healthy and quite pleasing in contour, and her eyes were clear. Even her clothing was good; she no longer wore decaying rags. But she retained her undead immunity to minor injury. It was as if she had regressed from months-dead at the time Irene had first met her, to weeks-dead when Irene's group welcomed her, to days-dead when she fell in love with Xavier, and now was only hours or minutes dead. She had evidently been a lovely young woman when she died.

  "A live girl would be dead by now," Xavier observed, satisfied. "Ain't Zora great? No woman alive is better than her!" He leaned toward Irene confidentially. "She ain't cold, neither. She's warm, now."

  "Yes," Irene agreed faintly. One part of her mind rebelled at the grotesque nature of the zombie, but that was being driven out by the beautiful nature of the restoration. It was a miracle of a sort--a good sort.

  Then she had to attend to her own segment, for the wiggles weren't abating their onrush.

  Other creatures arrived. Some were huge and strange, but Xanthippe seemed to recognize them. "You gi-ants get over there," she cried. "Chomp the wiggles in your mandibles and spit out the remains; they aren't edible. You ma-moths fly up and catch the ones just overhead. You gigan-tics scoot down under the leaves and catch any that are down there out of our sight. Watch out for your own hides; those wiggles may be small, but they're deadly!"

  The strange, large creatures spread out and worked on the wiggles. Xap the hippogryph was also very effective, crunching them with his hard beak. He took up the section near Chem, who seemed pleased enough to have him there.

  There was a screeching behind. Again Irene glanced back, since she used her ears more than her eyes to locate the wiggles--and saw three Furies. This could be real trouble! Zzapp!

  "A curse on you!" Tisi cried. The wiggle spun out of control and bounced off a tree, its power gone.

  Another wiggle came through. "Woe betide you!" Meg cried at it, "What did you ever do for your mother, who zapped away her last energy in order that you might someday swarm?" She raised her scourge and whipped the wiggle out of its hold.

  Irene relaxed. The Furies, too, had come to help. It seemed that all the normal creatures of Xanth were making common cause against this mutual threat.

  As she worked, Irene continued to look around, spotting new arrivals. She saw the chocolate moose stomping wiggles with his sharp hooves--and next to him, a flock of ducks nibbled on other wiggles. Beyond them were several impossibly odd creatures with huge, hairy hands. They seemed, somehow, eerily familiar. Suddenly she made the connection. "The monster under the bed!" she cried. "You do exist--numbers of you!" And one of them waved. That was probably the one that had been stationed under her bed, before she had grown too old to believe in it.

  Another odd thing rolled into view, stomping wiggles. Irene realized belatedly that it was a foot-ball. Everything was coming to help!

  But now the sun was very low; night was stalking the land.

  Some creatures, like the monsters under the bed, could function well in darkness, but others could not. If even a tenth of the wiggles got through, it would be eventual doom--and many more wiggles than that would escape in the night.

  Then a truly monstrous shape came over the trees, darkening the sky farther. It was a bird, a roc, no, a--

  GREETINGS, WARRIORS!

  It was the Simurgh! Grundy had gotten through, and the eternal bird had left its perch on the Tree of Seeds and come to help!

  PARNASSUS COMES!

  "Oh, thank you, thank you, Simurgh!" Irene cried. "But it is almost dark, and many creatures will get holed--"

  SEEDS OF LIGHT. And from the talons of the huge creature came a shower of tiny motes, each glowing like a little star. PERFORM, GOOD WOMAN, the bird directed.

  "Grow!" Irene cried at them all. The stars grew, expanding into fat bulbs that radiated light everywhere. Some bulbs landed on the ground, illuminating it; others hung up in trees, casting wider flares. There were so many that the entire region became as bright as day. The problem of night was solved.

  "Careful, Simurgh," Chem called. "Some wiggles travel high."

  THEY WILL TRAVEL INTO MUNDANE SPACE, the Simurgh explained. NO HARM WILL COME OF THESE. AS FOR THE ONES BETWEEN--

  A host of small birds appeared, evidently brought by the large one. Each had an outsize beak. "Those are pinches," Chem said, her centaur education operating again. "Just what we need!"

  The pinches swooped about, just over the heads of the creatures on the ground and the ma-moths just above, and caught any wiggles zapping by in that region. They didn't bother with the really high wiggles, and now Irene understood why; only the low ones posed either a short-term or a long-term threat.

  In the renewed light, Irene could see other arrivals. There was a big, friendly yak, talking wiggles to death; a bugbear was scaring them to death; and--

  "Hiatus!" she exclaimed. "What are you doing on that carpet?"

  The Zombie Master's son floated close. "I went out to help look for Ivy," he explained. "I didn't find her, but I did find the Good Magician's carpet, so I flew it home--and got the news about the swarm. So--"

  "That's fine," Irene agreed. She was glad Hiatus had found a way to be useful.

  Zzapp! A wiggle hovered close. Hiatus focused on it--and a big ungainly ear grew from it. Overbalanced, the wiggle fell to the ground, unable to maintain its course.

  Still there were not enough creatures to complete the encirclement of the swarm on the ground. Her husband the King would not arrive with his forces for several hours, Irene was sure, and that would be too late; they had to contain the swarm while it was small enough to be containable. Every creature here was working loyally and hard, at considerable personal risk, but many more were needed.

  Something huge slithered along the ground. It was the Python of Parnassus, come at the Simurgh's command. And behind him came a bedlam of screaming wild-haired naked women. The maenads! The big bird really did rule Parnassus!

  The wild women spread out, enormously increasing the fighting forces. They seemed delighted with this task, smashing with glee at every wiggle that appeared.

  Now the wild animals of this region were joining in, too. Every creature was quick to appreciate the need for action. Still, this was only one side of the swarm; on the far side, the wiggles could be spreading without hindrance.

  But she had plenty to occupy her attention on this side! The skirmish line was advancing now, and the wiggles were thick. The sound of the zzapps was constant. Creatures were getting holed, and losses were mounting. Chem's flank was blood-flecked where a wiggle had grazed it, and there was a maenad on the ground, holed through the head. In death the wild woman was rather pretty, and Irene felt a pang of regret for her. This was no child's play!

  Child's play--that reminded her all too forcefully of Ivy, there near the terrible center of the swarm, hiding precariously behind an invisible forget-whorl. How long could Ivy survive that, even if the swarm were eventually contained?

  "What have we here?" Irene turned again--and there was the Zombie Master, animating the dead maenad. Now the losses of personnel, while painful, would not be critical; their zombies would carry on.

  Steadily the line moved forward, the ranks closing tighter as they were augmented by other creatures. The wiggle swarm was now a magnet for the people and animals of Xanth, all coming to risk their hides and lives in this valiant effort. Irene realized that the Simurgh was broadcasting her powerful thoughts, summoning anything within range. The Si
murgh well understood the menace of the wiggles!

  Irene heard something new. It sounded like the beat of many hooves. She looked--and there at the fringe of visibility were many centaurs, each carrying two men. Dor had found a way to travel quickly, and now maybe they could complete the encirclement! Both men and centaurs would be effective against the wiggles, and if there were enough of them--

  There were, it seemed, at last enough. Gradually the circle closed. The wiggles came even more quickly, but that was because this was closer to the nest. The creatures of Xanth were winning!

  They forged inward slowly, abetted by the continuing light bulbs that showed every wiggle clearly. Not every ordinary bulb burned well and long, but the Simurgh had brought top-quality seeds for this occasion. The curve of the battle line became clear, showing more of the circle of closure. They had to maneuver to get past a lake whose surface was clogged with ash; something had burned on the water recently, taking some of the wiggles with it. Near that lake, a relevant was using its trunk to smash wiggles, and an allegory was crunching them in its teeth, and so was a hypotenuse, while a parody mimicked them. Irene was glad to see these creatures being of some help; she had never had much use for them before.

  Now they were at the fringe of a rough plain beyond a low hill that was riddled by wiggle holes. What a mess the worms made of this land! Irene thought of the whole of the Land of Xanth resembling this region if the wiggles prevailed, and shuddered. The swarm had to be contained!

  The circle of closure became small enough so that Irene could see across to where the goblins and harpies held their front. They had, after all, responded to the whistle! The goblins were on the ground, lined up in military order, bashing efficiently. The harpies hovered above, holding stones in their claws to squish the elevated wiggles. The two groups held a major segment of the line and were, perhaps for the first time in over eight hundred years, cooperating with each other in useful work. In retrospect, it seemed that her encounter with the harpies had been fortunate, harrowing as it had been at the time.

  And there, beyond a crevice, was the nest itself. Irene paused to gaze at the dread artifact. Here was the source of all this mischief!

  Near it, this side of a crevice, was a small and odd group--a boy, a little girl, and a small, six-legged dragon. The children--at last! They seemed to have no protection from the wiggles, but they were safe behind their invisible shield, with tiny flying fruits buzzing around.

  The wiggles were so thick between the children and the adults that Irene knew no one could reach the trio ahead before the entire wiggle menace was eliminated. There might be a channel, a place free of wiggles where the forget-whorl had blanked them out--but Irene couldn't see where that was and suspected that there was just enough variance in the paths of the wiggles to fill in that channel. Some wiggles might curve a little in flight, not being able to hew to a geometrically straight line. At any rate, it wasn't worth the risk, as the forget-whorl could drift the moment the children stopped guiding it, letting the wiggles suddenly through. The children were in sight, but hardly out of danger.

  This seemed to be the limit of the contraction of the circle of closure. Any closer and it would be suicidal, because there would not be enough space between individual wiggles to allow a creature to stand. So they were at an impasse; they had contained the menace, but could not abolish it--and they were getting very tired.

  They had to make a breakthrough soon, or their line would begin to collapse, and the wiggles would break out and win. All their available forces had been brought into play--and it wasn't enough.

  Chapter 18

  Hero Dragon

  Suddenly there was light, as thousands of light bulbs rained from the darkening sky and illuminated the entire region. Ivy blinked, letting her eyes adjust to the new brilliance, and looked about.

  The wiggles showed clearly, each casting several little shadows. They were so thick here that it would be risky to poke even a hand out from behind the whorl. But now there was no risk of that, for Hugo's flying cherries were also quite plain, defining the whorl. The three of them were safe; the onset of night no longer meant doom.

  Beyond the immediate scene, the plane of the traveling wiggles extended out across the devastated landscape. Ivy thought she saw some winged shapes at the horizon, but couldn't be sure; they were too distant and too fleeting. She wondered who had sent the light bulbs; they certainly were useful!

  But the children still could not reach the nest! It loomed there in the stark light, monstrous and deadly, like a giant pineapple in a process of a slow explosion. So near and yet so far, just across the crack! How could they cross?

  Ivy squared her little shoulders and did what had to be done. "Hugo, think of a way to get across."

  "You'll be a terror when you grow up," Hugo muttered.

  "What?"

  "Nothing. I'm trying to think." He furrowed his brow and thought. "We must fill in the crack," he concluded, his intelligence operating once again. "We must make a ramp, so we can walk across."

  "Good idea!" Ivy agreed. "What do we fill it with?"

  "I haven't yet worked out that detail," Hugo confessed.

  "Well, work it out, before the bulbs get tired of glowing." She knew that light bulbs were notoriously unreliable, generally blinking out just when most needed.

  Hugo concentrated again. He knew they couldn't leave the shelter of the whorl to fetch rocks, and if they scraped the ground they stood on into the crack, their position would soon be too low for them to cross. They needed something else--something available and plentiful. What could that be?

  "Fruit!" he cried with inspiration as an especially bright bulb burst above his head.

  "Fruit!" Ivy agreed, clapping her hands and dodging the falling fragments of the bulb. Probably a wiggle had holed it; if they holed too many bulbs, darkness would return. That was another reason to act quickly.

  Hugo conjured a peach and tossed it through the whorl and into the crack. They heard a thunk as it struck bottom.

  "We need more than that," Ivy pointed out. She was a practical girl, taking after her mother in that respect, and perhaps in other respects, too.

  Hugo conjured several more peaches and threw them in. There were several more thunks from the unseen depth.

  "Something bigger," Ivy suggested. "The biggest you have."

  "That would be greatfruit," Hugo said after a moment's consideration. He conjured one--and the thing was so large it almost crushed him beneath its weight. He eased it to the ground, then shoved it forward. The thing rolled grandly into the crack and disappeared.

  SPLAT!

  "That was a small one," Hugo said.

  "Conjure some big ones," Ivy said.

  "But I couldn't handle them!"

  "Well, think of a way!" Ivy had little patience with excuses; she resembled her mother in that respect, too.

  "Maybe if we make a channel--"

  Zzapp! A wiggle holed the fringe of Ivy's dress. That was too close for comfort! "Watch the whorl!" she cried, alarmed and not a little annoyed about the damage to her dress.

  Hastily Hugo conjured another bunch of winged cherries and watched them fly forward. Sure enough, the whorl had drifted to the right. The party shifted to get squarely behind it again.

  Then they got to work on the channel. Stanley, perceiving the need, used his six sets of claws to help, and very quickly hollowed out a fine crevice.

  Hugo used more cherries to verify the position of the whorl, making sure it was remaining in place, and then conjured the biggest greatfruit his enhanced talent could command. The thing was as tall as he was--a huge yellow sphere with a dimpled rind. It landed in the channel and rolled slowly into the crack. SPLAT!

  After that, it was routine. One cherry-bunch, one greatfruit, alternating steadily, gradually filling the crack. After a while, the fruits stopped splatting and just bounced, and finally one rolled to the brink and balked. The crack was full!

  They moved over, carefully,
and deposited a few greatfruits to either side to broaden the ramp. They filled in with smaller fruits to even it out. Now at last they had their way to cross to the nest.

  Ivy looked around--and saw in the distance a ring of people! Others had come to fight the wiggles! Mare Imbri had gotten through! But the wiggles were zapping so thickly that the people could not reach the nest. So it was still up to the three of them.

  "Let's move across," Ivy said. "Keep a close watch on the whorl, Hugo. Stanley, blow it over the ramp."

  The little dragon had been resting. Now he revved up his wings and fanned up a small gale. The whorl rolled to the ramp.

  Hugo sent a steady stream of flying fruit aloft. Cherries flapped so thickly that they darkened the local region. A steady mass of them went haywire in the whorl and plunged into the crack, helping to shore up the ramp.

  The whorl moved slowly and ponderously and invisibly to the center of the crack. They were doing it!

  Then an errant gust of breeze passed by. It came from a small gray cloud that had drifted up to observe the strange activity.

  "Oops," Ivy said, dismayed. "That's Fracto!"

  Indeed it was. King Cumulo-Fracto-Nimbus, recognizing them at this instant and not giving so much as a wisp of fog for the threat to Xanth, since the wiggles didn't hurt clouds, now intended to blow up some trouble. He huffed and he puffed, at right angles to the direction of progress.

  "Oh, no!" Hugo cried. "Another vector!"

  The whorl nudged to the right. It started to move off the ramp. In a moment it would plunge into the depths of the crack and be lost--and so would they. Already the wriggles were zapping by close on the left, forcing Hugo and Ivy to squeeze to the right. Fracto grinned and heaved out another draft of chilling air.

  "Blow it back, Stanley! Blow it back!" Ivy screamed. But Stanley could not counter the vector of the wind without leaving the ramp himself--and the shelter of the whorl. His right three legs scrambled on the greatfruit rim of the ramp.

  Then Fracto gave a nasty extra push, augmented by a dastardly roll of thunder, and the whorl moved to the edge and started to roll down off the ramp. Ivy screamed as the wiggles zapped thickly by the left side, forcing her and Hugo to the brink.