by Tom McGowen
“What next, I wonder?” muttered Angus, watching the torches that twinkled in the distance.
“Almost anything, and none of it very nice,” said Merlin a trifle maliciously. “But you insisted on coming along with us, did you not?”
“Aye,” said the old brownie, defiantly thrusting his chin forward, “and I’ll keep going till the end, whatever it be.”
Chapter
17
As they moved ahead once more, they could better see this new cavern in which they had first beaten a demon army and then been attacked by Urlug’s magic wall of fire. It seemed wider than the cavern through which they had previously passed, but not as long. Ahead of them, the torches of the advance parties were drawing together once more.
“What is it, MacHinery?” asked Simon. “Another tunnel?”
“Yes,” replied the robot.
When they reached it, they found it to be much narrower than the last tunnel had been. The dwarves were able to walk only two abreast and had to straggle out somewhat so that the men carrying torches would not burn those ahead of them. It was a long tunnel, and soon the entire army filled its length. Without altering his mechanical stride, MacHinery observed, “There is a vibration taking place in the rock around us.”
“Wait,” called Merlin. The army halted and looked apprehensively about.
“I feel it too,” said Simon. Gradually, everyone became aware that the rocky ground beneath their feet was trembling ever so slightly, but with growing intensity.
“Urlug is using an earth-shaking spell to cause this tunnel to cave in and bury us,” said Merlin in a strangely calm voice. “I can counter the spell, but it requires great effort. All of you run for the end of the tunnel as swiftly as you can. Move!”
The ground was shivering noticeably now, and the walls were vibrating. Small bits of rock cracked loose from the ceiling and fell with sharp impacts. Merlin walked along, his arms making sinuous intertwining motions and his lips moving silently. Dwarves squeezed past him, rushing desperately to be free of the tunnel before it collapsed upon them. Sergeant Small had hold of Maggie’s elbow and was hurrying her along as best he could. Wier had picked up Angus and was sprinting down the tunnel for all he was worth. MacHinery, having been ordered to run, was well ahead of all the others. Only Simon held back, continuing to walk a few paces ahead of the magician, watching him over his shoulder. He felt strangely calm.
With terrible sounds of cracking and rending, the walls began to fall inward, the ceiling split into great chunks, the floor began to billow. There were shouts of terror from the dwarves still in the tunnel.
But then, as though cut by a knife, all sounds of rending rock, all motion of falling stone ceased. Great chunks of the ceiling, in the very act of falling, hung suspended and unmoving. Sections of the floor which had begun to push forward, and portions of wall which were falling inward, seemed frozen in space. Everyone was struggling over cracks and ducking beneath boulders poised to come crashing down upon them. Merlin continued his methodical pace, arms still moving, his face lined with strain and glistening with perspiration, still mumbling his incantation.
It seemed an eternity, but at last the dwarves, MacHinery, Maggie, and her two escorts reached the end of the tunnel and poured out into yet another cavern. Simon, still looking over his shoulder, joined them. Fearfully, they clustered together until Merlin appeared. He staggered slightly as he stepped from the tunnel, took several long paces forward, and with a moaning gasp, sank to his knees. Behind him there was a titanic crash as the tons of rock, released by the breaking of his counterspell, collapsed on all sides within the tunnel. A cloud of choking dust poured forth from what was left of the entrance and set them all coughing and gasping.
And at that moment, from the gloomy shadows of the cavern’s ceiling, a vast shape hurled itself down upon them with an ear shattering roar and a rush of great wings. Blazing red eyes glared from a huge, horrible, scaled head, sword-length claws flexed, and a massive barbed tail lashed in fury. “Dragon!” shrieked a chorus of dwarf voices.
Caught completely by surprise, the army rallied as best it could. A score of arrows sped against the monster’s scaled body, but bounced harmlessly off. With a single sweep of its clawed foreleg, the creature knocked a cluster of archers sprawling and lifeless. Its tail whipped in a great arc and slammed into another group of dwarves, hurling them, crushed and battered, in all directions half dozen brave axmen rushed in, swinging their weapons wildly against the huge head. Their axes simply shattered, and almost contemptuously, the monster smashed them with another blow of its foreleg. It snorted a jet of flame from its nostrils, turning yet another cluster of dwarves to shriveled, blackened hulks.
There was a sudden loud chattering sound as Sergeant Small pressed the trigger of his weapon and fired a full clip of bullets at the huge reptile. He aimed purposely high, and three of the bullets ripped into the dragon’s great right eye, while a dozen more slammed into its hideous head. The creature gave a shriek of pain that reverberated through the cave, and gathered itself as though to spring. Its undamaged left eye, burning with rage, was fixed upon the figure of Merlin, still kneeling on the cavern floor.
Pointing his finger at the dragon’s head, the wizard cried out a single word. With a sharp crack, a glaring bolt of lightning leaped through the air and struck the creature.
For a few moments there was total confusion. Momentarily blinded by the blazing bolt of lightning, and still coughing helplessly in the acrid smoke and dust that billowed about them, the dwarves stumbled and yelled in panic, expecting at any moment to have the dragon fall viciously upon them. Small was inserting a fresh ammunition clip into his weapon. Then they all heard the loud, monotone voice of the robot. “There is no further cause for alarm. The animal is lifeless.”
Minutes passed before they could see again, for most of the torches had been dropped and extinguished. When his vision had cleared completely, Gwedhedda ordered new torches to be lit, and as they sprang to blazing life, everyone saw the immense bulk of the dragon lying sprawled and unmoving. Somewhat shakily, the Dwarf Chieftain walked to it, inspected it, then glanced about at the bodies of the dwarves. “Nearly a third of our number,” he said, grimly. “And it would have wiped us out had you not been here, Merlin.”
There was no answer.
Gwedhedda looked around quickly. The spot on which Merlin had been kneeling was vacant.
“Merlin!” he called, in a voice that broke with panic.
“He is gone,” said Sir MacHinery.
“Gone? What do you mean?” asked Simon.
“The instant after he destroyed the animal with the electrical discharge, a group of demons appeared from a hidden opening. They bound his arms to his sides and stuffed a cloth into his mouth. He seemed too weak to resist them. They carried him off into an opening there.” He pointed toward a section of the cavern wall. “It sealed behind them.”
“Why didn’t you go to his aid?” raged Gwedhedda.
The robot’s twin scanning lenses stared into the dwarf’s blazing eyes. “My orders are to seek out Urlug,” he explained. “I can let nothing sway me from doing so.”
“Och, och,” wailed Maggie, with her hands clutching her head. “The demons have Great Merlin in their power. What shall we do?”
“Do?” said Simon. “We’ll do what we came to do—what Merlin would want us to do. We’ll keep going until we reach Urlug.”
“We cannot go further without Merlin’s magic to aid us,” shouted Gwedhedda in a near fury.
“We have no choice, have we!” Simon answered in a voice that matched the dwarf’s. “Did you expect an easy victory, Gwedhedda? A little walk through demonland, a skirmish or two, and then a feast to celebrate your conquest? This is a war, and in wars men often die or fall captive to the enemy. If you cannot face that fact, then take your dwarves and slink back to your city of Glamoreth. But we’ll go on, with your help or without it.”
“Losh,” whispered Sergea
nt Small to Constable Wier. “I didna know he had this in him. What an officer he’d have made!”
Gwedhedda was staring in puzzlement at the physicist. He realized that Simon had suddenly taken command of the expedition, yet somehow this seemed fitting. Turning, he motioned to the four nearest torchbearers. “Forward,” he said. “Two axemen with each of you.” There were no archers left; all had been killed by the dragon. As the points of light moved off into the darkness, he turned back to confront Simon. “Dwarves do not slink away from battle,” he said. “We will stay with you as long as there is one of us left to swing an ax.”
“I felt sure that you would,” replied Simon. Then, with the robot by his side, he strode after the torches flickering in the distance. Small, Wier, Angus, Maggie, and Bathsheba hurried to catch up to him. Whispering among themselves, the dwarves followed.
Chapter
18
Weakened as he was by the terrible strain of maintaining the counterspell to Urlug’s earth shaking, followed by the need to use a word of power to destroy the dragon, Merlin was no match at all for the cluster of demons who swiftly engulfed him. A gag was shoved into his mouth so that he could not speak, and his arms and his fingertips were quickly wound tightly to his sides so that he could make no gesture. Deprived of the ability to speak an incantation or make a magical pass, and too weak to even struggle, he found himself picked up like a sack of potatoes and hustled into a small tunnel only a few feet from the one which had just collapsed.
The tunnel was pitch black, but the six demons knew their way and bore him swiftly along. Fatalistically, the wizard closed his eyes and gave himself up to his great weariness. In a short time, he actually fell asleep.
He was rudely awakened by being dropped upon a floor. He did not attempt to move, but opened his eyelids a tiny fraction to determine what sort of place he was in. Without moving his head, he was able to see that it was quite a large room, with floor, ceiling, and walls of polished black onyx. He lay at the foot of a massive gold throne. It was empty, but behind it stood of number of demons—high ranking nobles by their dress—who seemed to be silently waiting for something. The room was dimly illuminated by some source which he could not see. Suddenly, the throne was no longer empty. A shadow sat in it. A shadow in the shape of a man. The demons bowed.
“He is awake,” said the shadow in a whisper like the sound of poisonous snakes hissing. “Remove the gag.”
Clawed fingers fumbled at the base of his neck where the gag was tied, and the cloth was roughly yanked from his mouth. He opened his eyes fully and gazed up at the shadow. He was in no doubt as to what it was.
“Hail, Great Merlin,” hissed the poisonous voice. “Hail, oh greatest of wizards, captured by a simple trick. It seems you are but another weak and ordinary mortal after all.”
The demons behind the throne broke into grating laughter. “Hail, Urlug,” replied Merlin calmly. Much of his strength had returned. “If I am but a weak and ordinary mortal, why do you deem it necessary to keep my hands tied so securely?”
“Oh, I know you have powers,” countered the shadow, “and feeble though they are, I have no wish to become involved in a duel of magic with you.” It leaned forward. “And now that I have you here, tell me, Great Merlin, who will be able to bear the Sword of Power against me?”
There was another chuckle, like the fluttering of bat wings, from the demons. Merlin immediately realized that he had a great advantage with which to work. As he had hoped, Urlug thought that he was to be the swordbearer. He saw that he had an opportunity both to stall for more time for the army, and to keep Urlug from guessing who the real champion was.
So he threw his head back and gave a great, booming laugh which shocked the demons into surprised silence. “You are indeed a dunce, Urlug,” he replied with obvious scorn. “Did you really think that I was to be the champion?”
“You cannot trick me, Merlin,” hissed the shadow. “Who else could be?”
“Think, simpleton,” sneered Merlin. “The champion must be fearless and unable to be tempted. I do not fear you, nor anything else, but if you knew anything of my past, you would know that I can be tricked. I was once unable to resist the guile of the witch woman, Nimue, and that is how I came to spend two thousand years as a prisoner beneath a lake. I could not have borne the sword against you—fool!”
He was deliberately trying to enrage the creature, and was pleased to see that he was succeeding. Two red sparks were kindling within its shadow face.
“Who carries the sword then?” demanded Urlug. “Tell me!”
“Oh, the sword is being carried by the mechanical slave,” replied Merlin. “But when the time comes—and it will come, Urlug—the true champion will use it and then the world will be rid of another vermin.”
Shrilly, the shadow voice screamed, “Who is the champion? You will tell me!”
Merlin chuckled. “You cannot take my mind,” he said with calm confidence. “Our powers are too evenly matched.”
“There are other ways,” hissed the shadow.
Merlin chuckled again. “Torture? Do you think I cannot make myself immune to pain, simpleton? Do you think I cannot will myself to die, if need be?” He glanced at the demons behind the throne. “You poor fools. You have chosen a leader who fumbles about with guesses and who meets defeat at every turn. Was the army sent to overcome five mortals and three brownies at Maggie’s cave not defeated by a means that he can not even explain? Has he been able to prevent our tiny army from continuing its advance against you despite your greater numbers? In the end he will be destroyed, and you will flee to your holes shrieking for mercy even as your ancestors did ages ago.” The demons stared at him, their bulbous eyes glinting with fear.
“Silence!” The shadow uncoiled from the throne and stood upright, quivering with rage. “Do you think I cannot yet find the champion and tempt him aside or make him feel fear? Watch!”
It gestured with a shadowy arm. A circle of light appeared on the shiny black floor. Within it could be seen the army of dwarves, the shiny figure of the robot, Maggie, Simon, and the others. The shadow stared down at them.
“Gwedhedda,” he said at last. “The Chieftain of the Dwarves. He is fearless; perhaps he is beyond temptation. We shall see. Watch now, Merlin, and see your champion fall to a lust that he does not even know lies within his mind.”
The tiny remnant of the force moved gloomily through the darkness. The only sounds were the steady clank of the robot’s metal feet rhythmically striking the stone floor, the labored breathing of the old witch, and the shuffling of the dwarves’ leather boots. The faces of the dwarves were grim and purposeful, and the face of Gwedhedda seemed etched in stone. Simon’s words had touched them to the quick, and they were avidly awaiting a chance to do battle with anything that stood in their way.
But the blow which Urlug now struck was a subtle one. The torches of the scouts, which had been moving steadily forward, suddenly stopped, wavered uncertainly, and then began to dart about.
“What is happening?” demanded Gwedhedda, tapping MacHinery on the arm.
“They have entered a cave,” replied the robot. “They are in no trouble, but seem quite excited. They are rushing about, picking things up from the ground.”
The dwarf frowned. “We’ll see what it’s all about,” he grunted. “Follow me, dwarves, and have your weapons ready.”
Cautiously, with the exception of Sir MacHinery who continued to clank methodically forward, the dwarves moved toward the dancing torches. And as they drew near enough to see within the cave, a great gasp went up.
The large floor of the cave was piled to the height of a man’s knees with an immense and incredible horde of treasure. In the flickering firelight of the scouts’ torches, thousands of bars of pure gold gleamed with an orange lustre, and ingots of shining silver glinted redly. There was a sparkling rainbow of brilliance from countless green glowing emeralds, flashing diamonds, pale pink topazes, deep blue sapphires, and sullen red r
ubies. There were hundreds of bars, lumps, and shards of semiprecious stones as well; deep yellow, translucent amber, jet black onyx, white-flecked, green jade, shining purple porphyry. And there were strange stones, never before seen by the eyes of man nor dwarf. Everywhere within the cave there were beckoning twinkles and gleamings and sparkles.
And the dwarves went mad.
Flinging aside their axes, they ran wildly into the cave, seizing first one sparkling gem or rare stone and then another; holding them up to see them gleam in the torchlight, trickling them through their fingers. They shouted at one another in loud, exulting voices.
His face impassive, Merlin watched this scene taking place within the circle of light, and knew that Urlug had contrived the cleverest of all methods for disposing of the dwarves. For dwarves are born with an insatiable love for the treasures of the earth—not because of a lust for wealth or greed of possession, but for the sheer love of beauty that can be created from such things by artistry and craftsmanship. The dwarf chieftain and his band had never seen such a vast assortment of treasures and they were hopelessly ensnared by them.
“There are tools here!” shouted one dwarf in a voice ringing with excitement. “Hammers and files and tongs. A brazier. A work table and a vice and tools for cutting gems.”
The dwarves had found paradise. Their weapons were cast aside, their purpose forgotten. Simon shook Gwedhedda by the shoulder, but the dwarf did not even notice him. Looking into his glazed eyes, Simon saw it was useless. He glanced at MacHinery who was wading unconcernedly through the treasures toward the opposite end of the cave. “It’s no use,” he said grimly to Small and Wier and Maggie, who stood staring at the treasure and the maddened dwarves. “We’ve lost them. We’ll have to go on without them.” He hurried after the robot, and the others hurried after him. Wier prudently scooped up a handful of diamonds and tucked them into his uniform tunic pocket on his way out.
In the black onyx room Urlug exulted. “So much for Gwedhedda and his dwarves.”
