MA03 Myth Directions

by Robert Asprin

  Seizing the Ta-hoe spokesman by the front of his tunic, Aahz hoisted him up until his feet were dangling free from the ground. “What is this!!” he demanded.

  “Glaah ... Sakle ...” the fellow responded.

  “Um ... Aahz?” I intervened. “He might be a little more coherent if he could breathe.”

  “Oh! Right,” my mentor acknowledged, lowering the spokesman until he was standing once more. “All right. Explain!”

  “Ex ... explain what?” Greybeard stammered, genuinely puzzled.

  “Those are the teams from our respective cities. You can tell them apart by their helmets and ...”

  “Don’t give me that!” Aahz thundered. “Those aren’t Jahks. Jahks are skinny or overweight!”

  “Oh! I see,” the spokesman said with dawning realization. “I’m afraid you’ve been misled. Not all Jahks are alike. Some are fans, and some are players—athletes. The fans are ... a little out of shape, but that’s to be expected. They’re the workers who keep the cities and farms running. The players are a different story. All they do is train and so on. Over the generations, they’ve gotten noticeably larger than the general population of fans.”

  “Generally larger?” Aahz scowled, glaring down the field. “It’s like they’re another species!”

  “I’ve seen it happen in other dimensions,” Gus observed, “but never to this extent.”

  “Well, Big Julie warned us about over-confidence,” Chumly sighed.

  “What was that?” Greybeard blinked.

  “Want fight,” Chumly declared, dropping back into character. “Crunch likes fight.”

  “Oh,” the spokesman frowned. “Very well. If there’s nothing else, I’ll just ...”

  “Not so fast,” I interrupted. “I want to know why there are so many players. The game is played by five-man teams, isn’t it?

  “That’s right,” Greybeard nodded. “The extra players are replacements ... you know, for the ones who are injured or killed during the game.”

  “Killed?” I swallowed.

  “As I said,” the spokesman called, starting off, “I admire your confidence in only bringing five players.”

  “Killed?” I repeated, turning desperately to Aahz.

  “Don’t panic, kid,” my mentor growled, scanning the opposition. “It’s a minor setback, but we can adapt our strategies.”

  “How about the old ‘divide and conquer’ gambit,” Badaxe suggested, joining Aahz.

  “That’s right,” Gus nodded. “They’re not used to playing a three-way game. Maybe we can play them off against each other.”

  “It won’t work,” I declared flatly.

  “Don’t be so negative, kid,” Aahz snapped. “Sometimes old tricks are the best.”

  “It won’t work because they won’t be playing against each other ... just us.”

  I quickly filled them in on what Griffin had told me earlier. When I finished, the team was uncomfortably silent.

  “Well,” Aahz said at last, “things could be worse.”

  “How?” I asked bluntly.

  “Gleep?”

  My dragon had just spotted something the rest of us had missed.

  The other teams were bringing their riding beasts onto the field. Unlike the players, the beasts weren’t marked with the team colors ... but then, it wasn’t necessary. There was no way they could be confused with each other.

  The Veygus beast was a cat-like creature with an evilly flattened head—nearly as long as Gleep, it slunk along the ground with a fluid grace which was ruined only by the uneven gait of its oversized hind legs. Though its movements were currently slow and lazy, it had the look of something that could move with blinding speed when it wanted to. It also looked very, very agile, I was sure the thing could corner like ... well, like a cat.

  The Ta-hoe mount was equally distinctive, but much more difficult to describe. It looked like a small, armored mound with its crest about eight feet off the ground. I would have thought it was an over-sized insect, but it had more than six legs. As a matter of fact, it had hundreds of legs which we could see when it moved, which it seemed to do with equal ease in any direction. When it stopped, its armor settled to the ground, both hiding and guarding its tiny legs. I couldn’t figure out where its eyes were, but I noticed it never ran into anything ... at least accidentally.

  “Gleep?”

  My pet had pivoted his head around to peer at me. If he was hoping for an explanation or instructions, he was out of luck. I didn’t have the vaguest idea of how to deal with the weird creatures. Instead, I stroked his mustache in what I hoped was a reassuring fashion. Though I didn’t want to admit it to my teammates, I was becoming less and less confident about this game ... and I hadn’t been all that confident to begin with.

  “Don’t look now,” Gus murmured, “but I’ve spotted Tananda.”

  “Where?” Chumly demanded, craning his neck to see where the gargoyle was pointing.

  Of course, I had seen Tananda earlier and had forgotten to point her out to the others. I felt a little foolish, but then, that was nothing new. To cover my embarrassment, I joined the others in staring towards Tananda’s floating form.

  Quigley noticed us looking his way and began to fidget nervously. Apparently he was not confident enough in his newfound powers to feel truly comfortable under our mass scrutiny. His discomfort affected his magik ... at least his levitation. Tananda’s body dipped and swayed until I was afraid he was going to drop her on her head.

  “If that magician’s all that’s in our way,” Gus observed, “it occurs to me we could just sashay over there and take her back.”

  “Can’t,” Aahz snapped, shaking his head. “The kid here promised we wouldn’t do anything to make that magician look bad.”

  “That’s fine for you two,” the gargoyle countered, “but Chumly and I didn’t promise a thing.”

  “I say, Gus,” Chumly interrupted, “we can’t go against Skeeve’s promise. It wouldn’t be cricket.”

  “I suppose you’re right,” Gus grumbled. “I just thought it would be easier than getting our brains beaten out playing this silly game.”

  I agreed with him there. In fact, I was glad to find something I could agree with. Chumly’s argument about crickets didn’t make any sense at all.

  “It occurs to me, Lord Magician,” Badaxe rumbled, “that the promise you made wasn’t the wisest of pledges.”

  “Izzat so?” Aahz snarled, turning on him. “Of course, General, you speak from long experience in dealing with demons.”

  “Well ... actually ...”

  “Then I’d suggest you keep your lip buttoned about Lord Skeeve’s wisdom and abilities. Remember, he’s your ticket back out of here. Without him, it’s a long walk home.” Chastised, the General retreated, physically and verbally.

  “Gee, thanks Aahz.”

  “Shut up, kid,” my mentor snarled. “He’s right. It was a dumb move.”

  “But you said ...”

  “Call it reflex,” Aahz waved. “A body’s got to earn the right to criticize my apprentice ... and that specimen of Klahdish military expertise doesn’t qualify.”

  “Well ... thanks anyway,” I finished lamely.

  “Don’t mention it.”

  “Hey, Aahz,” Chumly called. “Let’s get this ... Trophy out of the center of the field and put it somewhere safe.”

  “Like where?” my mentor retorted. “We’re the only ones in the stadium I trust.”

  “How about in our goal?” Gus suggested, pointing to the wide net at our corner of the triangle.

  “Sounds good,” Aahz agreed. “I’ll be back in a second, kid.”

  I had gotten so used to the bedlam in the stadium that I barely noticed it. As my teammates started to move the Trophy, however, the chorus of boos and catcalls that erupted threatened to d
eafen me. My colleagues responded with proper aplomb, shaking fists and making faces at their decriers. The crowd loved it. If they loved it anymore, they’d charge down onto the field and lynch the lot of us.

  I was about to suggest to my comrades that they quit baiting the crowd, when General Badaxe beckoned me over for a conference.

  “Lord Magician,” he began carefully, “I hope you realize I meant no offense with my earlier comments. I find that I’m a trifle on edge. I’ve never fought a war in front of an audience before.”

  “Forget it, Hugh,” I waved. “You were right. In hindsight it was a bad promise. Incidentally ... it’s Skeeve. If we’re in this mess together, it’s a little silly to stand on formality.”

  “Thank you ... Skeeve,” the General nodded. “Actually I was hoping I could speak with you privately on a personal matter.”

  “Sure,” I shrugged. “What is it?”

  “Could you tell me a little more about that marvelous creature I was just introduced to earlier?”

  “Marvelous creature?” I blinked. “What marvelous creature?”

  “You know ... Massha.”

  “Massha?” I laughed. Then I noticed the General’s features were hardening. “I mean, oh that marvelous creature. What do you want to know?”

  “Is she married?”

  “Massha? I mean ... no, I don’t think so.”

  The General heaved a sigh of relief. “Is there a chance she’ll ever visit us in Possletum?”

  “I doubt it,” I replied. “But if you’d like I could ask her.”

  “Fine,” the General beamed, bringing a hand down on my shoulder in a bone-jarring display of friendship. “I’ll consider that a promise.”

  “A what?” I blinked. Somehow the words had a familiar ring to it.

  “I know how you honor your promises,” Badaxe continued. “Fulfill this pledge, and you’ll find I can be a friend to prize ... just as I can be an enemy to be feared if crossed. Do we understand each other?”

  “But I ...”

  “Hey, kid,” Aahz shouted. “Hurry up and get on that stupid dragon! The game’s about to start!”

  I had been so engrossed in my conversation with Badaxe I had completely lost track of the other activities on the field.

  The team from Ta-hoe and Veygus had retired to the sidelines, leaving five players apiece on the field. The Cat and The Bug each had riders now, and were pacing and scuttling back and forth in nervous anticipation.

  At midfield, where the Trophy had been, a Jahk stood wearing a black and white striped tunic and holding a ball. I use the phrase ‘ball’ rather loosely here. The object he was holding was a cube of what appeared to be black, spongy substance. A square ball! One more little detail the Geek had neglected to mention.

  Without bothering to take my leave from the General, I turned and sprinted for Gleep. Whatever was about to happen, I sure didn’t want to face it afoot.

  I WAS barely astride Gleep when the Jahk at midfield set the ‘ball’ down and started backing toward the sidelines. “Hey Aahz!” I called. “What’s with the guy in the striped tunic?”

  “Leave him alone,” my mentor shouted back. “He’s a neutral.” Actually, I hadn’t planned on attacking him, but it was nice to know he wasn’t part of the opposition.

  I was the last of the team to get into place. Aahz and Chumly were bracketing me as the Fangs, Gus was behind me, waiting to take advantage of his extra mobility as Guard; and Badaxe was braced in the mouth of the goal as Castle. We seemed about as ready as we would ever be.

  “Hey, kid!” Aahz called. “Where’s your club?”

  I was so engrossed in my own thoughts it took a minute for his words to sink in. Then I panicked. For a flash moment I thought I had left my staff back in Klah. Then I spotted it lying in the grass at our entry point. A flick of my mind brought it winging to hand.

  “Got it, Aahz!” I waved.

  “Well, hang onto it, and remember ...”

  A shrill whistle blast interrupted our not-so-private conference and pulled our attention down-field. The Cat and the Bug were heading for the ball at their respective top speeds, with the rest of their teammates charging along in their wakes.

  The game was on, and all we were doing was standing around with our mouths open.

  As usual, Aahz was the first to recover.

  “Don’t just stand there with your mouth open!” he shouted. “Go get the ball.”

  “But I ...”

  “GLEEP!”

  What I had intended to point out to Aahz was that the Cat was almost at the ball already. Realizing there was no way I could get there first, I felt we should drop back and tighten our defense. My pet, however, had other ideas.

  Whether he was responding to Aahz’s command to “get the ball” (which was unlikely), or simply eager to meet some new playmates (which was highly probable), the result was the same. He bounded forward, cutting me off in mid-sentence and setting us on a collision course with the Cat.

  The crowd loved it.

  Me, I was far less enthusiastic. The Cat’s rider had the ball now, but he and his mount were holding position at midfield instead of immediately advancing on our goal. Presumably this was to allow his teammates to catch up, so he could have some cover. This meant he wouldn’t have to venture among us alone.

  That struck me as being a very intelligent strategy. I only wished I could follow it myself. Gleep’s enthusiasm was placing me in the position I had hoped to avoid at all costs—facing the united strength of both of the opposing teams without a single teammate to support me. For the first time since our opponents had taken the field, I stopped worrying about surviving until the end of the game. Now I was worried about surviving until the end of the first play!

  My hopes improved for a moment when I realized we would reach the Cat and its rider well ahead of their teammates. The feeling of hope faded rapidly, however, as my rival uncoiled his weapon.

  Where I was carrying a staff, he had a whip ... a long whip. The thing was twenty feet long if it was an inch. No, I’m not exaggerating. I could see its length quite clearly as the rider let it snake out toward my head.

  The lash fell short by a good foot, though it seemed much closer at the time. Its sharp crack did produce one result, however. Gleep stopped in his tracks, throwing me forward on his neck as I fought to keep my balance. An instant behind the whip attack, the Cat bounded forward, its teeth bared and ears flat against its skull, and one of its forepaws darted out to swat my dragon on the nose.

  Though never noted for his agility, Gleep responded by trying to jump backwards and swap ends at the same time. I’m not sure how successful he was, because somewhere in the middle of the maneuver, he and I parted company.

  Normally such a move would not have unsettled me. When Gleep had thrown me in practice, I had simply flown clear, delicately settled to the ground at a distance. This time, however, I was already off balance and the throw disoriented me completely. Realizing I was airborne, I attempted to fly ... and succeeded in slamming into the turf with the grace of a bag of garbage. This did nothing toward improving my disorientation.

  Lying there, I wondered calmly which parts of me would fall off if I moved. There was a distant roaring in my ears, and the ground seemed to be trembling beneath me. From far away, I could hear Aahz shouting something. Yes, just lying here seemed like an excellent idea.

  “ ... up, kid!” came my mentor’s voice. “Run!”

  Run? He had to be kidding. My head was clearing slowly, but the ground was still shaking. Rolling over, I propped one eye open to get my bearings, and immediately wished I hadn’t.

  It wasn’t in my head! The ground really was shaking! The Bug was bearing down on me full tilt, displaying every intention of trampling me beneath its multiple tiny feet. It didn’t even occur to me that this would be a ridiculous way to go
. All that registered was that it was a way to go, and somehow that thought didn’t appeal to me.

  I sprang to my feet and promptly fell down again. Apparently I hadn’t recovered from my fall as much as I thought I had. I tried again and got as far as my hands and knees. From there I had a terrific view of my doom thundering down on me, and there was nothing I could do about it!

  Then Aahz was there. He must have jumped over me in midstride to get into position, but he was there, halfway between the charging Bug and me. Feet spread and braced, knees bent to a crouch, he faced the charge unflinching. Unflinching? He threw his arms wide and bared his teeth in challenge.

  “You want to fight?” he roared. “Try me.”

  The Bug may not have understood his words, but it knew enough about body language to realize it was in trouble. Few beasts or beings in any dimension have the courage or stupidity to try to face down a Pervect when it has a full mad on, and Aahz was mad. His scales were puffed out until he appeared twice his normal breadth, and they rippled dangerously from the tensed muscles underneath. Even his color was a darker shade of green than normal, pulsing angrily as my mentor vented his emotions.

  Whatever intelligence level the Bug might possess, it was no fool. It somehow managed to slow from a full charge to a dead stop before coming within Aahz’s reach. Even the frantic goadings from its rider’s hooked prod couldn’t get it to resume its charge. Instead, it began to cautiously edge sideways, trying to bypass Aahz completely.

  “You want to fight?” my mentor bellowed, advancing toward the beast. “Com’on! I’m ready.”

  That did it! The Bug put it into reverse, scuttling desperately backward despite the frantic urgings of its rider and the hoots from the crowd.

  “I say, you lads seem to have things in hand here.”

  A powerful hand fastened on my shoulder and lifted. In fact, it lifted me until my feet were dangling free from the ground. “Um ... I can walk now, Chumly,” I suggested.

  “Oh, terribly sorry,” the troll apologized, setting me gently on the ground. “Just a wee bit distracted is all.”