Polychrome

by Ryk E. Spoor

  I turned back to Kaliko. “Well, your Majesty? Admittedly, I didn’t follow your script. But I prefer to write my own.”

  Kaliko finally stopped staring at Zenga and looked at me. Gradually, his expression shifted from shock to chagrin, and suddenly he burst out laughing. “You give yourself far too little credit, mortal, for you played that game twenty moves ahead. You hid an ally, hid her power, right in front of my nose! So not two, but three allies you have made, and one of them powerful enough to have outdone me in these very caverns many centuries agone.”

  His smile was filled with his own joy now. “You have won, Erik Medon. And a part of me is glad indeed of it, as I have hated sitting here, waiting, wondering what the end of this would be. Perhaps — even if we fail — it is better to fail this way than mine.”

  He nodded emphatically. “Find a way into Oz, Erik Medon; give me the path you have promised, and my armies will march side-by-side with those of the Rainbow, and we shall see how fares Prophecy and your cunning against the power of Oz and its Usurpers!”

  Chapter 37.

  Polychrome stood to the rear of the balcony and tried to slow her heart. I’ve spoken to crowds before. I’ve never cared before about speaking in front of them. What’s wrong with me now?

  She saw Nimbus and her father in front of her, giving their own speeches, but the words did not register. Only the rhythm of the words, slowly building to the point that she would be expected to step forward. To step forward and –

  And take command.

  That was it. My whole life…I’ve danced through life without worry, without fear, without care…

  Without responsibility, without the duties…not even the ones my sisters had. She glanced with sudden guilt and shame at her sisters — Azure Radiance, Crimson Glow, Golden Dawn, all of them — and wondered: Why do they still love me so, when I have always left them, when Father has always allowed me so much? And she wondered, too, about these thoughts, so new and different.

  It’s not just that, she realized with a shiver. It’s Father. I will be doing this because Father will be here nearly alone, in case the Usurpers press their attack to the Rainbow Kingdom. It will be Father’s power against theirs…and I must be far, far away in case he falls.

  The very thought of Iris Mirabilis, the eternal Rainbow Lord, falling was almost ludicrous, but she had seen all too clearly in his eyes that he knew it could happen. That it would happen.

  And then I will be the ruler of the Rainbow Kingdom. It struck her, now, with a thrill of horror, that her father had always intended she be the one to replace him, and thus her name, Polychrome, no single color, not like those of her sisters… Polychrome, many colors, ruler of the hues of the Rainbow. The only one of her sisters to be encouraged in her mingling with all the peoples, allowed to be seen and known throughout all Faerie…

  …The only one with armor and weapons waiting for her. She felt the light, silvery plate suddenly weighing on her shoulders as though the very towers were balanced on that Above-forged steel, the argent sword dragged at her hip like an anchor. Armor and weapons my mother had, but never wielded. Oh, Father, was even this something foreseen by the Above? Did they tell you, one day, that your firstborn daughter would sit on your throne?

  Cheers from below, and she knew Father and Nimbus were nearing the moment she must step forward.

  How can I? All the training…it has taught me to fight, I’ve gained some smattering of strategy, but I’m no leader! I need so much more time…

  And in that moment she saw Erik’s face, pale, disbelieving, as he grasped what was being asked of him, and the pain of it went straight to her heart…and brought a momentary laugh to her lips. So this was what he was feeling, all those months, as we tried to teach him all of the things that his life had never given him.

  And he took those lessons, inadequate and limited as they were, and accepted what we asked of him. She had watched him run Kaliko’s terrible gantlet and seen his triumph of mind and will.

  I’m just being asked to lead. By the Colors, even if I want to fight I’ll bet Father’s told Nimbus to make sure someone’s always watching me. If poor Erik can be out there…ready to die for…

  A part of her stopped, pulled back, and evaded some monstrous, half-seen precipice. She knew not exactly what fearful thought lay on the other side of that half-finished phrase, but she dared not look at it. …for Oz and all of Faerie…I can’t be afraid.

  I won’t be afraid. I won’t fail Father. I won’t fail Nimbus.

  I won’t fail him.

  And now the noise rose to a roar, and the two men had stepped aside, and even as she stepped forward, Iris Mirabilis said, “Warriors of Faerie, Army of the Rainbow, I give you Princess Polychrome Glory, High Commander of the Hosts, Heir to the Rainbow Throne, Blessed of the Above!”

  She reached the edge of the balcony of the Rainbow Castle and looked down.

  Ranged in perfect array before the Castle stood rank upon rank of the Warriors of the Rainbow, hundreds, thousands, ten thousand strong, all assembled, and as she looked upon them they gave a mighty cheer, a shout of gladness and welcome that brought a sting of tears to her eyes. I don’t deserve this…but I must try. I must.

  “Highest of all the Armies of Faerie, I thank you!” she called out, and to her astonishment her voice did not tremble, did not waver, but rang out clear and strong, echoed across the immense plaza with confidence and certainty. She had no idea what she could say next, but their answering roar gave her another moment or two. “It is nearly time, the time we have awaited three centuries and more! The Hero has gained his allies, and we shall not march alone!”

  They fell silent at that, a tense, expectant, hopeful silence, and she felt a savage smile on her face as she gave them what they hoped for. “The greatest of the Armies of Faerie, solid and true as stone, the forces of the Nome King shall march beside us! Earth and Sky shall move as one!”

  And they took the line and repeated it, and in that moment she knew she had said exactly the right thing. “Earth and Sky shall move as one!”

  “Earth and Sky shall move as one!”

  Chapter 38.

  Grasses and tough brush grew here, at the border between the northern edge of the Nome Kingdom and the Land of Ev. I watched as a small contingent of Nomes assisted the Pingarese workmen in opening the crates they had brought here a few weeks ago, according to my instructions to King Inga.

  Kaliko and Zenga watched with some bemusement. “What is this that you have my men assembling, Lord Erik?” Kaliko said finally.

  “My ticket across the Deadly Desert,” I answered. “The barrier makes it impossible for the Nomes to tunnel across. I can’t fly by myself, and no Faerie magic would get me across and through the barrier. As it’s about two hundred miles of desert, walking is out of the question; it’s not all that bad here, a few hundred yards out, but the magic that makes the Deadly Desert so deadly intensifies everything. It’s like the Sahara with toxic sand. The magic part of the destroying sands won’t hurt me, but some of the toxins are mundane.

  “So I needed a mundane way across the desert. Fast, low-tech enough that I could get it built here, and it had to be something I could use. So I took a cue both from Clive Cussler and from Baum himself.” I grinned as I saw the mast being raised, making the nature of my “solution” clear.

  Zenga clapped her hands in understanding. “A sand-boat!”

  Kaliko and Ruggedo grunted with surprise and appreciation. “An elegant solution in some ways. But have you any idea how to handle such a craft? Your world is filled with automated metal conveyances.”

  “Ask Zenga,” I said, “or old Inkarbleu; I learned to handle a small sailing boat when I was much younger, and the seamen of Gilgad gave me quite a refresher course.”

  “Good enough, then,” Ruggedo said, “but tell me, why from here? The prevailing winds, as you know, are due East from here. If you began a hundred miles or so farther south, you could run straight before the wind and
arrive in Oz as swiftly and surely as any might hope.” He gave a nostalgic grin. “That was, after all, the course my tunnel took. If you run straight with the wind from here, you will miss Oz entirely. You will need to tack somewhat southerly to strike land.”

  “You’re entirely correct, Ruggedo. But the Usurpers know these things as well, and while they haven’t had tremendously good luck following me, they certainly know I’m coming for them. So where, exactly, are Ugu and Amanita going to deploy most of their watchmen and troops?”

  Understanding dawned on both Nomes’ faces. “Along the border of the Winkie country. Most concentrated at Oogaboo and points immediately south, where the domain of the Nomes and Oz are at their closest.”

  “Exactly. As I have no intention of charging straight into their most heavily-armed troops, I am going to sail along the northern border and then cut south, landing in the Gillikin country instead. This should be less heavily guarded — their magic cannot, after all, track me directly, so they will have no idea, even if they guess my intent, of knowing exactly where along that border I will land — and it is rougher country overall, so they’ll have a harder time redeploying. Once I’m there –”

  “—all you need do,” Kaliko finished, “is drop that Gem upon the soil of Oz, and the Rainbow will span the distance from here to there; my Nomes will cross and they will be joined at the top by Iris Mirabilis’ forces. Within a few minutes, an hour at the most, our armies will be assembling in Oz.” He turned to Ruggedo. “Well, Ruggedo, you have told me of your adventures since exile, and they’re quite impressive…Penitent. I, on the other hand, have become an able administrator, but am not so experienced in the outside world. I am therefore appointing you commander of our armies.”

  Ruggedo’s jaw dropped and he stared at Kaliko for a long time. “But…I am…”

  “An exile no longer. I exiled a petty tyrant and a selfish, short-sighted man who had imperiled the entire realm. I do not see much of that man in you, and I have spent — quite deliberately — most of the past few weeks in your company. For you, exile has served to bring you to the maturity your kinghood had denied you. Not like General Guph, alas.”

  Ruggedo’s eyes were suspiciously bright; I thought I saw a trace of a tear at the corner of one. To preserve a bit of the old Nome’s pride, I asked, “What did happen to Guph, then?”

  “I exiled him shortly after Ruggedo when I discovered he was actually trying to arrange a coup against me. This did not have the salutary effect on him that it appears to have had on my old King. He cultivated his grudge against me assiduously, assisted many attempts to invade or exploit our lands, and eventually offered his services and knowledge to the Usurpers.”

  “Hm-m-m! That’s bad. That’s very bad,” Ruggedo said gravely, only a hint of roughness in his voice indicating that he had been very near tears at Kaliko’s sudden lifting of exile. “Guph was an ambitious and prideful Nome, no doubt of it, but he was an excellent strategist and tactician, not to mention a cunning negotiator. I suppose his ultimate goal was to become one of the Usurpers’ Viceroys, taking over the Nome Kingdom when they finally moved against our people.”

  Zenga snorted. “If half the stories I’ve heard are true, his ultimate goal would be to turn the Usurpers against each other and take Oz itself from them.”

  “Good luck with that,” I said. “Still, that probably means that they’ve got themselves a good general to coordinate things. Another reason for me to make sure that we get to assemble and move as an organized unit far away from where they’ve got the bulk of their forces. With luck, we might be able to cut a swath straight south through the Gillikin country and hit the former Emerald City before enough of their armies can redeploy to stop us. Take out Ugu and Amanita at the capital, and the whole thing may be finished.”

  “A fine thought that is,” agreed Ruggedo. “But I doubt we should plan on it.”

  “No. But we should, at least, have surprise and position on our side when it starts.”

  The assembly of the little craft was nearly complete. It was about thirty feet long and had a beam of about eight feet, with a long outrigger on either side to balance it. The boat was designed with an aerodynamic shape that should minimize resistance; instead of wheels, which would have been my first choice, the Pingarese had built narrow skids coated with something shiny that Zenga said was called “Sea Fairies’ Kiss”; it made the areas it was coated with extremely smooth, very hard and resistant to wear and in water repelled things like barnacles. I ran my finger along the skids and was astonished; the stuff felt so slick it was like moving an air-hockey puck over the table. There were a few bare areas at intervals on that and the rudder and hull, to provide good contact for control and steering. The boat was longer and somewhat higher than it would have been in normal circumstances, but I had to make sure it kept me reasonably high off the sands, out of the concentrated level of toxins. As it was, I was taking with me several masks crafted by the Nomes which should filter out incidental poisons and stray sand grains, but they would be for emergencies, not constant wear in the hundred-degree-plus heat.

  Now the Nome soldiers that had accompanied us began the quick loading of supplies into the sand-boat. I had no idea how long it would take; with luck I might average twenty miles an hour while moving, given a brisk wind, which would mean it would take probably thirty to thirty-five hours of sailing to reach my destination. Unlike a water craft on the ocean, though, I couldn’t afford to just lash the rudder and take naps when I got tired; there were potential outcroppings of rock, the small vessel would likely be temperamental…and there were rumors that something lived in the Desert, where nothing should live. So I’d have to sail only when I was awake and alert, stopping whenever I couldn’t pay attention. “Figure it’ll take me a week to get there,” I said, finally. “Eight hours of concentrated sailing a day will be more than enough in that heat.”

  “A week is a good time,” Kaliko said. “That will allow me to assemble the armies underground here, ready to emerge at a moment’s notice, and prepare all the supplies they must bring with them. The war engines, especially, will take some time to bring up.”

  The last jug of water was placed onboard and the last Nome jumped off. I walked to the bow of the little ship and took up the pot of paint that I’d requested. Zenga looked momentarily puzzled, then brightened. “Of course! No ship must go un-named!”

  “Bad luck, at least that’s what I’ve always been told,” I agreed. I looked up in the sky, where — far off in the distance over Ev — the massive white and grey anvil of a cumulonimbus drifted; for a moment I allowed myself to imagine I could see a faint glitter, as of the towers of a mighty castle in the sky. And now I take a single ship to throw back the invaders of the greatest of the lands of Faerie.

  I painted the name carefully; the paint dried unnaturally swiftly, as I wasn’t allowing my True Mortal nature to interfere. Yes. It’s the right name. May this one fare better than the first.

  “Zenga? Would the Princess of Pingaree do me the honor of christening my ship?” I found it amusing that the word “christen” was used here, even though there were hardly any Christians in evidence in the Faerie realms.

  “With great pleasure, Lord Erik.” Zenga took a bottle of wine from Kaliko, who apparently had arranged to carry just about everything he might want with him, and drew back her arm, reading the name inscribed on the bow before speaking. “May the spirits of air guide you; may the strength of earth uphold you; and may the Will of the Above protect you; in the name of Faerie and the Above, I christen thee — Thunder Child!”

  The wine bottle shattered perfectly, spraying sparkling shards far and wide, and — for just a moment — I thought I heard, from the far-off cloud, a low rumble. I will believe I did, anyway. Perhaps he’s watching, somehow. Here I go, Iris.

  Zenga put her foot on the boarding step, and I caught her arm. “No, Zenga.”

  She blinked. “But, Lord Erik, I am –”

  “—more tha
n enough a resident of Faerie so that you cannot pass the Barrier,” I said firmly. “You might just be blocked — in which case neither you nor I would enter — or the barrier might kill you. Either way, you have to stay.” I looked out at the grey-brown, desolate expanse. “I have to do this alone.”

  Slowly she stepped back down. Then, before I could react, she darted forward and kissed my cheek. “Good luck, Erik Medon,” she said, and stepped back quickly.

  I was momentarily thrown completely off. Then I took a deep breath. “Thank you, Zenga.”

  I swung myself up to the little deck and prepared to unlash the sail. The Nomes braced themselves against the stern and pushed; Thunder Child slid smoothly across the grass and gravel and onto the level, lethal sands.

  I stood up and waved; a cheer went up from the twenty or so gathered there, and Ruggedo raised his staff in salute. I bowed, and then let out the sail.

  The wind caught the light, strong material instantly, with a pull so strong that even with the tackle assisting me I was almost pulled along with it. The boom swung outward and Thunder Child began moving, picked up speed. I reached back, adjusted the rudder; a gust of wind at angles to the main breeze momentarily tilted the little sand-boat, and I shifted my heading a few points.

  Thunder Child was a good little craft, but it still took me some time to get used to her handling; I kept some of the sail reefed in until I could feel confident that I knew what I was doing, and what I should do if certain emergencies were to happen. Eventually, though, I felt sure I could handle her well enough, and looked back.