Castle for Rent

by John Dechancie

  “Well, move over.”

  Deena climbed in with him. They looked at each other, then pulled the covers over their heads.

  * * * *

  “Singularity vortex!” Trent yelled over the noise of battle.

  “Yeah!” Incarnadine agreed. That was what the sparkling streamers that had enveloped the house were beginning ominously to look like. The flux of magical energies in and around the house and its environs were starting to warp the fabric of normal spacetime. If the process continued, the house would drop right out of the continuum, possibly taking the portal along with it. Incarnadine wasn’t sure exactly what would happen to the portal, but it would be nothing good; of that he was certain.

  “We have to get in there,” Incarnadine shouted, unsure of being heard. A six-legged, three-horned quasi-rhinoceros charged at him. He sprayed it with green fire; the thing fissioned into six smaller animals. He laid down a blanket of fire over these. Result: three dozen reduced-scale replicas, all maniacally bent on goring him in the ankles. They continued to replicate and reduce in size, Zeno’s paradox coming into play. They would keep halving the distance to their target, but never reach it. Incarnadine stepped out of their path.

  There was less and less to do. Another antique aircraft circled overhead, but was not quite so magically well constituted as its predecessors; its motor sputtered, then died, and the craft fell out of the night, crashing into the formal garden on the house’s east side.

  More monsters, these looking a bit threadbare: another reject from a Japanese sci fi flick; a dozen more hackneyed horrors from central casting; something that looked from the waist up like Lon Chaney’s werewolf, but was web-toed and scaly in the other direction. It blew up very nicely. A second anomaly shambled toward them, looking for all the world like a gorilla wearing a vintage deep-sea diving helmet. Whatever movie it was from, it didn’t get very far.

  There came a lull in the action.

  With a weary sigh, Trent sank to one knee. “Man, I’m bushed.” He chuckled. “Getting old.”

  “I think we’ve just about broken their back.”

  Trent surveyed the field of battle, now empty. “No, they have something left.”

  “I’d be willing to bet not. That last salvo had spell exhaustion written all over it.”

  “Maybe so. We’d best make a run for the house now before that vortex —” Trent reconsidered. “Hell, maybe we don’t want to get to the house. I’m not sure I can deal with any continuum disturbances.”

  “I’m fairly sure I can,” Incarnadine said. “Let’s move.”

  Trent got up. “Whatever you say. You seem to be running the show now.”

  “I still need your help. Got your second wind?”

  “I’m on my fifth, I think. I’ve lost count. You know, that inductance gimmick really —”

  The earth began to shake, and thunder rolled across the meadow.

  “Oh, hell,” Trent said. “Here comes the finale.”

  The thunder reached a crescendo, then a brilliant flash lit up the countryside.

  All Hell came at them. Incarnadine looked out across the meadow and saw the Hosts of Hell in full battle regalia, arrayed to meet the foe. There were fiends, demons, hobgoblins, imps, and incubi of every description. Some sat astride great horned beasts of battle, some rode fantastic metal engines. Most charged on foot, screaming bloody mayhem.

  Incarnadine flamed the first wave. They went down easily enough, but there were simply too many of them. He prepared himself for death, reciting the first lines of the Prayer of Leave-taking.

  He looked up and saw a burnished curving blade poised to strike. The scaled horror that wielded it regarded him with molten red eyes.

  “Now you will die, Haplodite scum,” the thing said to him.

  “You send me to a better place, tiresome one,” the King replied.

  “You — you.…!” The thing was beside itself with rage. But it did not strike.

  “What seems to be the matter, O Fearful One?”

  “You … shit!”

  Incarnadine laughed. He laid his palms on the thing’s horny chest and pushed. There was almost nothing to push against. The matinee monster fell over like a papier-mâché dummy.

  He materialized a sword and swung at another bugaboo. It split down the middle, revealing its chintzy hollowness.

  “Spell exhaustion!” he heard Trent yell. “Inky! They’ve shot their wad! They’re just buying time.”

  “The house is about to go!” he shouted back. “Let’s get up there!”

  It was easier said than done. They were flapped, batted, and swatted at by hosts of bogus fiends, all about as substantial as paper dolls, and as dangerous. But there were thousands of them, and they succeeded in getting in the way.

  Trent and Incarnadine hedge-hopped through the formal gardens, then encountered more ersatz boogeymen on the croquet court. They pushed, kicked, and bulled their way forward, finally reaching the outer perimeter of the auroralike phenomenon. Once inside it, the cheapjack monsters disappeared.

  Invisible fists pummeled them, jostling them this way and that. Fierce gusts of wind arose and tore at them. Leaning into the wind, they staggered forward. After fighting their way across a brick patio, they reached the back door.

  Incarnadine began waving his hands. Trent tried the handle. The door opened. Trent grinned at his brother.

  “You probably still can’t spell ‘magician.’“

  “I was always an overachiever.”

  At that moment, the bottom dropped out of everything.

  House Over the Borderline

  “Barnaby?”

  “Huh?”

  “Wake up.”

  “I’m up. Whaddya want?”

  “What do I want? We were kissin’, and then you go and fall asleep on me!”

  “I didn’t fall asleep.”

  “Yes, you did!”

  “I’m sorry. I feel like I haven’t slept in a thousand years.”

  “Yeah, me, too. But I was beginning to like what we were doin’. A whole lot.”

  “You mean this stuff?”

  After they parted, she said, “Yeah, that stuff. And a couple of other things you were startin’ to do.”

  A strange flickering light suddenly dawned through the window.

  “Uh-oh,” Deena said.

  “That was quick. Sun just popped up, I guess.”

  “The sun don’t pop up, never.”

  “Look out the window.”

  “You look out the window!”

  “I’m tired, Deena honey.”

  “And I ain’t? Oh, damn it, all right.”

  Deena got to her knees and leaned out over the nightstand and peeked out the window. Then she dove back into bed.

  “What was out there?” he asked.

  “Don’t ask!” she said.

  The bedroom door burst open and the demon they had encountered in the closet came scampering in. It went directly to the window and threw up the sash.

  “Excuse me, folks, but it’s time to bail out,” the fiend said as it clambered up onto the sill. “So long!” It jumped off and was gone.

  “Don’t that beat everything,” Deena said.

  “You know, he wasn’t such a bad sort, once you got to know him.”

  “Kiss me again, fool.”

  * * * *

  The demons were dead. Very dead. In fact, they stank badly enough to have succumbed days ago, and looked it as well.

  “This one just crumpled up and died, all of a sudden like,” Snowclaw said (in his own language, but everyone seemed to understand him).

  “Mine, too,” Gene said. “Jesus. There were only two of them.”

  “There may be others,” Kwip said.

  “Nope,” Sheila said. “Those are the two who were causing all the trouble. The rest was magic.”

  “What in the world is going on outside?” Linda asked.

  They all went to the window.

  “Now this is extremely int
eresting,” Gene said.

  Outside, the sun was a golden arch across the sky, the moon a pale silver bow. The landscape was alive. Saplings grew into giant trees, died, decayed, and fell in a matter of seconds. The seasons went by, one after another, in a flickering blur.

  “We’re traveling through time,” Gene decided. “I guess.”

  “That’s absolutely correct,” came a voice from the far end of the living room.

  Gene and his companions turned to regard the two men who had entered the room.

  “Hello again,” said the tall, handsome man with the beard.

  “Lord Incarnadine!” Linda said.

  “Yes. You remembered. I believe we met only once.”

  “Certainly I remember … uh, Your Majesty.” Linda did a quick curtsey.

  “And I believe this is … Mr. Ferraro?”

  “Yes, sir.”

  “And … ?”

  “Kwip of Dunwiddin, Your Majesty.”

  “No need to kneel. Arise, Kwip of Dunwiddin!”

  “His Majesty is too kind.”

  “And, let me see … ”

  “They call me Snowclaw.”

  “Aptly yclept. Stout fellow. And this charming young lady?”

  “Sheila Jankowski, sir.”

  “Ah, it was you. You were doing quite a good deal of spellcasting in here, weren’t you?”

  Sheila blushed. “Yes, sir.”

  “Excellent work! You saved the lives of your friends, and quite possibly mine and my brother’s. I’m sorry — ladies and gentlemen, may I present His Royal Highness Trent, Prince of the House of Haplodie, Protector of Zilonesia, Vice-regent of Ulontha, Beloved of the Gods, Holy Warrior, Keeper of the Stone of Truth-telling … and so forth and so on.”

  Trent said, “Those honorifics and fifty cents will get me a cup of decaffeinated coffee. Howdy, folks.”

  Gene said, “Uh … sir? May I ask a question?”

  “Sure,” Incarnadine said.

  “What the hell has been going on?”

  Incarnadine laughed. “That’s going to take some explaining.”

  Linda said, “I want to know where those things came from.” She pointed to the cadavers.

  “From a very mysterious aspect, the nature of which we might never fully understand.”

  “Are they real demons? I mean — well, it’s kind of hard to ask the right questions.”

  “I know what you mean. Are they truly supernatural? I don’t know. I suspect the physical laws that govern their universe are radically different from most. They do have physical bodies, however, so, as I see it, the question is moot. I’m sorry I don’t have many of the right answers.”

  “That’s okay.”

  Incarnadine went to the window. “Don’t let all this nonsense out the window faze you. Too much magic in one place tends to be a little destabilizing. Not to worry. We thought the trajectory might turn out to be hyperbolic, but it isn’t. The effect will start to rebound momentarily. There we go.”

  As he spoke, the sun stopped in the sky over what looked like a Carboniferous swamp. Then it began to move backward. Night fell, giving way to dawn a few seconds later. The sun streaked back across the sky, accelerating at a rapid rate. Soon the golden arch re-established itself.

  “I’m getting a Big Mac attack,” Gene said.

  “As I said,” Incarnadine continued, “not to worry. The house should return to normal spacetime in short order. Any other questions?”

  “This is Earth, isn’t it?” Sheila asked. “I mean, when we get back to normal … whatever it was you said.”

  “Yes, this is Earth. Your home. And no doubt you want to stay.”

  “Yes! I mean … ”

  “There is some doubt?”

  “Well, I’m going to miss the castle.” Sheila slapped her forehead. “I don’t believe I said that.” Then she realized the gaffe. “I didn’t mean —”

  Incarnadine chuckled. “I know exactly what you mean. And I’ve been meaning to solve the one-way access problem for a long time. Please accept my apologies for any inconvenience the delay has caused you. Now that we have the Earth portal nailed down, I think we should establish a permanent access to the castle. This house would make an excellent way station.”

  “Where is this place?” Gene asked.

  Trent said, “The closest town is Ligonier, Pennsylvania.”

  Gene jumped up and down. “That’s a stone’s throw from my hometown!”

  “Mine, too!” Sheila said.

  Gene stopped jumping. “How the hell am I going to explain where I’ve been? I’ve been away almost a year.”

  Incarnadine thought about it. “Well, this is a problem. There are some possible solutions, though. As you can see, we’re traveling through time. It could be possible to stop the house just shortly after the time you entered the castle. We could cut it as close as you like. Or, as an alternative, it’s actually theoretically possible to tune a portal to permit time travel. You have to be careful to avoid paradoxes, of course. Meeting yourself coming the other way, that sort of thing. But in principle, it shouldn’t be a problem.”

  “I’ll opt for the portal method,” Gene said. “I’d like time to change into something less Gothic.”

  “No doubt.”

  “Sir, what about the situation back at the castle?”

  “Well, as soon as we get things squared away here, I’m going to return to the castle to finish some important business.”

  “My liege!”

  Carrying a large leather-bound book, his index finger wedged inside it, Osmirik ran into the room and knelt at his liege lord’s feet.

  “Arise, good and faithful servant. Whaddya got there?”

  “The spell, Your Majesty! The containment spell for the Hosts of Hell! Your ancestor, Ervoldt, used this ancient Tryphosite spell for confining evil spirits. I’ve done a rough translation of some of the more obscure lines.” He fumbled with a few sheets of paper.

  Incarnadine scanned the book. “Tryphosite, eh? You don’t say. Ervoldt was a wise old coot, wasn’t he? Yes, yes, I see. This should work. Excellent job, Osmirik. I knew I could count on you.”

  “I am only too happy to be of service to His Serene and Transcendent Majesty.”

  “This looks like it has a decay time of a little over five thousand years. No wonder Ferne unraveled it so easily. It was just about due to go on the fritz, anyway. Do you suppose if we made some modifications we could increase the effective time — say, here … and here?”

  Osmirik looked over the King’s shoulder. “Oh, I should say so, Your Majesty.”

  Incarnadine read the section through again, nodding. “Yes, it should work.” He closed the book and handed it back to the librarian. “Thank you, Osmirik. I am forever in your debt.”

  Astonished, Osmirik accepted the volume. “His Majesty does not need a working copy … ?”

  Incarnadine smiled. “You needn’t bother. I’m a fast study.”

  Awed, Osmirik bowed and backed away.

  Incarnadine looked out the window. “The house will probably oscillate a little before it settles down to the present. A half hour, I’d say. Did anyone check out the kitchen? There might be something to eat in there. Is anyone as famished as I am?”

  * * * *

  The house bounced for two full hours between the future and the past until eventually zeroing in on its target, the fleeting instant of the present. In the meantime, they ate a meal of canned food made tolerable by an excellent Chablis that Gene found in the cellar, along with many other drinkable spirits. Barnaby and Deena came down in time for dessert: canned cherries jubilee with a superb Napoleon brandy.

  “There was more demons upstairs,” Deena told them. “We saw one of them!”

  “An incubus,” Incarnadine said. “A technician, probably. Blue-collar type, not one of the warrior demons of the sort you people battled. Relatively harmless.”

  “Do you think any of them are still here?” Barnaby wanted to know.


  “No,” Trent said. “If the warriors died of spell exhaustion, the underlings didn’t have a chance.”

  Deena told of the one who had jumped out the window.

  “One chance in a million of survival that way. Not that it’s any great loss.”

  They all agreed not to lose any sleep over it.

  “How did they manage to fool your sister?” Gene asked.

  “Well, their disguises fooled you,” Incarnadine said. “Didn’t they? But you’re right, my sister should have known better. I suspect she succumbed to their influence a long time ago.”

  “You mean, she was a puppet?”

  “No. The Hosts are persuasive. I’ve told you how, as young people, we all had a brief flirtation with them. She was acting in their interests all along, and I don’t think she realized it. Of course, this in no way exonerates her.”

  Sheila said, “When you go back to the castle, you don’t expect to have any trouble?”

  “None,” Incarnadine said, finishing the last of his wine. “I can beat them, and they know it now. Their only chance was to kill me, or keep me out of the castle. They couldn’t do the former and they can’t do the latter.”

  “Couldn’t they — ?” Sheila shook her head, puzzled.

  “No, they’re licked. Sure, they could battle me every inch of the way back to their portal. But they know they’d lose in the end. I suspect they’ve totally withdrawn from the castle.”

  Sheila frowned. “It’s so hard to understand.”

  “Yes, almost impossible. I don’t pretend to understand them, nor do I fully understand everything that’s happened. But if Ferne’s still alive, I’m hoping to get some answers.” Incarnadine sat back. “When I’ve finished in the castle, I’ll send back word here, so you can come on through, if you wish.”

  “I’m leaving from here,” Sheila said. “I’ve only been gone a few days.”

  “Fine. I’m sure you’ll find a car in the garage. You’re welcome to use it.”

  “I still think I should do a time trip,” Gene said. “And so should Linda. Our folks will think we’ve come back from the dead.”

  “Well, it will take some time to set up,” Incarnadine said.

  Trent said, “There’s no need for that, if you want to take another tack.”

  “How so?” Incarnadine asked.