"The moment is crucial," Azzie observed, disengaging himself, "and my presence is required on the scene. I think you'd better get back to Scarlet's castle to watch developments on that end. Hi, Bab. How's Good doing these days?"
"Why, uh. We've just come up with a very interesting and inspiring touch for our entry. We're calling them stained-glass windows. I'd really like you to see them sometime."
"Sorry, I'm in a hurry right now. Stained glass?"
"Yes. Beautiful and morally instructive."
"Ugh! Sounds terrible. Sorry I can't stay and chat. Have another drink. It's good for you. Frike! Have we got everything we need?"
"Here, master, is the final thing!" cried Frike, stumping into the room. He was holding in his hand two long horseman's boots made of limp red leather. There was nothing unusual about them except for the small dials set into the heels.
"My Seven League Boots!" Azzie cried. "Frike, you're a genius!"
Azzie put them on, hefted the sack containing spells, extra swords, and other odds and ends. He tapped the heels of the boots twice, activating them.
"I'm off!" he cried.
Azzie went through the front door in a single stride and took to the air.
Babriel and Ylith rushed to the windows to watch, for they had never seen Seven League Boots in operation before. Azzie's pair was not new, but they worked perfectly. Off he went, just clearing the houses of Augsburg but gaining altitude, and climbing steadily.
The Seven League Boots took him high into the air, and Azzie could see the great forest below him, stretching to every horizon in a boundless sea of green. Every once in a while a clearing broke the uniformity and showed a settlement below. This went on for a long time. Azzie didn't know where he was and decided to ask directions. He tried to get the boots to take him down. The boots refused to vary from their previous course. That was the trouble with Seven League Boots. They were very literal, taking you exactly seven leagues at a step, not an inch more or less. He reached down and hammered at them.
"I want to go down right here!" But the boots ignored him, or at least didn't register his complaint. Straight and true they carried him, above the forest and its several rivers, coming down at last outside a town.
Amazed peasants in the village of Vuden in eastern Wallachia watched as a demon made a perfect landing in the middle of the weekly fair.
"The enchanted forest!" Azzie cried. "Where is it?"
"Which enchanted forest?" the villagers cried back.
"The one with the enchanted castle with the Sleeping Princess in it!"
"Back that way about two leagues!" the villagers cried, pointing the way Azzie had just come.
Once again Azzie soared into the air. And once again the Seven League Boots took their full seven-league stride.
Now began a nerve-racking contest in which Azzie tried to estimate what direction to take in order to reach his destination in exact increments of seven leagues. It took a while to figure out the appropriate zigs and zags.
There it was ahead, the peak of the magic mountain, recognizable by the haze of obfuscation which hung over it. But now, where in its vicinity was Charming?
Chapter 3
Prince Charming walked all day through the forest. The ground was fairly even, there were numerous sparkling streams, and from time to time he would pass a fruit tree and pick his lunch. The sun slanted in, gilding the leaves and branches. After a time, he came to a glade where he rested.
When he awoke, the woods were gloomy with evening light and something was passing near him. He scrambled to his feet and moved off into the underbrush, reaching for his sword before recalling he had abandoned Excalibur. Drawing a knife then, he peered out from behind a blackberry bush. He saw a shaggy little pony enter the clearing.
"Hello, young man," the pony said, halting, and staring at the bush.
Charming was not surprised that the pony could speak. After all, it was an enchanted forest.
"Hello," he said.
"Where are you going?" asked the pony.
"I'm looking for an enchanted castle that is supposed to be somewhere nearby," Charming said. "I am to rescue a maiden named Princess Scarlet, who lies there in an enchanted sleep."
"Oh, the Napping Princess thing again," the pony said.
"Well, you're not the first who has been through these parts in search of her."
"Where are the others?"
"They've all perished," the pony said. "Except for a few who are still striving onward, and who are destined to perish soon enough."
"Oh. Well, I'm sorry for them, but I guess that's how it should be," Charming said. "It wouldn't do to have the wrong fellow awaken her."
"So you're the right fellow?" the pony inquired.
"I am."
"What's your name?"
"Charming."
"Prince Charming?"
"Yes."
"Then you're the one, all right. I was sent out here to find you.
"Who sent you?"
"Ah," said the pony, "that would be telling. All will be revealed to you at some later time. If you live long enough, that is."
"Of course I will," Charming said. "After all, I'm the right one."
"Get up on my back," the pony said. "We can discuss it as we go along."
Chapter 4
Prince Charming rode along on the pony, until at last the woods opened and he could see a field in which many tents were pitched. Strolling among them were knights in holiday armor, eating barbecue and flirting with damsels in tall pointed hats with flimsy veils who went back and forth carrying wine, mead, and other drinks. There was even a little orchestra playing a sprightly air.
"Looks like a goodly bunch over there," Charming said.
"Don't you believe it," the pony replied.
"Why shouldn't I?"
"Take my word for it."
Charming knew, in the part of his mind which housed ancient wisdom, that shaggy little ponies who appeared mysteriously in the woods could be counted on to give good advice. On the other hand, he also knew that men were not supposed to follow this advice, since if one always listened to the voice of reason, one would never do anything interesting.
"But I'm hungry," Charming responded. "And perhaps those knights know the way to the enchanted castle."
"Don't say I didn't warn you," the pony said.
Charming kicked the pony in the ribs and it ambled forward.
"What ho!" cried Charming as he rode into the midst of the knights.
"What ho to you!" the knights called back.
Charming rode closer. "Art thou a knight?" the foremost of them called out.
"Indeed I am."
"Then where is thy sword?"
"That's quite a story," Charming said.
"Tell it to us, then, will thee?"
"I met this sword named Excalibur," Charming said. "I thought it was a proper blade, but no sooner had we started traveling together than it opened on me a mouth such as you would not believe. And it grew passing strange, till finally I had to escape it lest it kill me."
"That's your story, is it?" a knight asked.
"That's not my story, it's what happened."
The knight made a gesture. Two knights came out of a white pavilion carrying a baby-blue satin pillow between them. Lying on this pillow was a sword. It was dented, covered with rust, and its tassels were frayed, but it was recognizably Excalibur.
"Is this your sword?" the knight asked.
"Yes, though that's not how it looked when last I saw it," said Charming.
Speaking in a thin shaky voice, Excalibur said, "Thanks, fellas, I believe I can stand on my own."
The sword rose off the pillow, almost fell over, then balanced steadily on its point. The bright jewel in its pommel looked at Charming without winking.
"It's him, all right," Excalibur said. "He's the one who abandoned me on the field of battle."
The knights turned to Charming. "The sword asserts that you a
bandoned it on the field of battle. Is that true?"
"It wasn't like that," Charming said. "The sword is raving."
The sword swayed, then regained its balance. "My friends," it asked, "do I look deranged? I tell you, he threw me away for no reason at all and left me to rust on the hillside."
Charming made a gesture of finger to the temple, denoting that the thing referred to was crazy.
The knights didn't seem convinced. One said to another, in a clearly audible voice, "A little weird, perhaps, but definitely not crazy."
One of the knights, a tall gray-bearded man with the eagle-eyed look and thin lips of a spokesperson, took out a sheet of ruled parchment and a stylus.
"Name?"
"Charming."
"First name?"
"Prince."
"Occupation?"
"Same as first name."
"Present assignment?"
"Mission."
"What type of mission?"
"Mythic."
"Nature of mission?"
"Awaken Napping Princess."
"By what instrumentality?"
"A kiss."
After completing their questions, the knights retired to a quiet part of the field to consider what to do next, leaving Charming trussed hand and foot with silken cord and rolled under a hedge.
It seemed to Charming that these were not the ordinary run of knights. Their line of questioning was unexpected. Their faces, bony pallidities half-hidden behind moldering iron-and-wood casques, were unprepossessing. Charming overheard them talking as they moved off:
"What'll we do with him?"
"Eat him," came a reply.
"That goes without saying. But how?"
"Fricasseed is nice."
"We just had fricasseed knight last week."
"Then let's do the pony first."
"How?"
"What about roasted with fines herbes? Did anyone see any fines herbes around here?"
Charming immediately decided (a) knights didn't speak as he had supposed they did, or (b) these fellows were not knights at all but actually demons in knights' clothing.
A general consensus was reached on the fricasseeing. But they had some difficulty getting a fire going. It had rained recently in this part of the forest and there wasn't much dry wood to be found.
Finally, one of the knights caught a baby salamander. Piling moist kindling against it and rapping its nose sharply when it tried to escape, they soon had a good blaze going. Two more knights turned to the creation of the sauce, and another pair made the marinade while the rest sang.
Charming knew he was in deadly peril.
Chapter 5
Azzie was under way again, having given up the Seven League Boots in favor of his own demonic flying abilities. He flew and scanned the woods, noting a fire in the distance. He went to it, circled overhead, adjusted his vision, and saw Charming, trussed like a capon, awaiting fricasseeing aux fines herbes while the pony cooked and screamed.
"You can't do this to me!" it cried. "I haven't finished briefing him."
The demon knights kept on singing.
Quickly Azzie set down in the bushes nearby. He was considering things he might do to harass the knights and free Charming when, of a sudden, Babriel appeared beside him, resplendent in white armor, his dazzling white wings fluttering.
"Come to brag about your cathedral?" Azzie asked him.
Babriel looked at him sternly. "I hope you're not thinking of wading in there yourself, old man."
"Of course I am," Azzie said. "What do you think, I'm going to let my hero be eaten by renegade demons?"
"I didn't mean to intrude, but it is my duty to keep an eye on you. I can see that your Prince is in trouble. But you know the rules as well as I do. You mustn't help him. Not directly. You must not try to influence matters by your own actions."
"I've just got a few things for him," Azzie said. "A dagger. An invisible cloak."
"Let me see them," Babriel said. "Hmm. Dagger seems all right. Can't tell much about this cloak, though."
"That's because it's invisible," Azzie said. "But you can feel it, can't you?"
Babriel felt it all over.
"I guess it feels okay," he finally acknowledged.
"Even if it didn't," Azzie asked, "who'd know the difference?"
"I'd know," Babriel said. "And I'd tell."
Prince Charming lay trussed up and feeling foolish. Why hadn't he paid attention to what the shaggy pony had tried to tell him? Now it couldn't continue the questing lecture. Why hadn't he believed? If you won't believe an oracular shaggy pony, what will you believe? It did smell good, though. . . .
Then he heard a sound. It sounded like someone saying, in a loud whisper, "Hey there!"
"Who is it?" he asked.
"Your uncle Azzie."
"I'm glad you're here, Uncle! Can you get me out of this?"
"Not directly, no. But I do have a couple of things for you."
"What?"
"The first is an enchanted dagger. It will cut your bonds."
"And the second?"
"A cloak of invisibility. You can use that to get out of the mess you're in."
"Thanks, Uncle! I'd do the same for you!"
"I doubt that," Azzie said. Aiming with care, he dropped the dagger. It went point first into a log beside which Charming was propped.
"Got it," Charming said.
"Good boy. Now here's the cloak of invisibility. Be sure to read the instructions. And above all, do not remove them under penalty of law! Good luck! I'll see you a little later."
Charming heard something soft falling, landing near him with a hushed whisper. That would be the cloak. After the enchanted dagger had cut his bonds, he looked for the cloak but couldn't find it. That figured, he realized. It wouldn't be easy to find an invisible cloak, especially on a dark night.
Chapter 6
The demon knights were returning. They were singing,
Fair is foul and bread is dead
Put pease pudding in his head
And stuff his gut with fine persimmons
Till he looks like Jack Fitzsimmons.
No one had ever explained the meaning of this verse. It was very old, from a time when men found obscurity a comforting way of life.
The demon knights sprawled about the campground then, grunting, stretching, chuttering, yawning. With an occasional belch and considerable scratching, they settled themselves quickly.
Charming turned to the cloak. It wasn't there again. Then he caught sight of the tag, a small square of cloth with phosphorescent writing on it. It said, DO NOT REMOVE THIS TAG UNDER PENALTY OF DIVINE PUNISHMENT. PLEASE READ INSTRUCTIONS ON OTHER SIDE. Charming tried to read the instructions on the other side but they were not illuminated.
He arranged the cloak around himself as well as he could and started walking softly among the sprawled ranks of warriors.
A slight inconsistency in the height of the ground caused him to stumble and brush against one of the figures.
" 'Ere there!" An unsteady hand reached out and seized him. "Boys, ye ken what I've found?"
"Why you got your fist half-clenched like 'at, Angus?" the others cried.
"Because within it, my friends, I've got holt of an invisible spy."
"I'm not a spy!" Charming cried.
"But you are invisible, won't try to deny that, will you?"
Charming broke free and ran. The knights got up and chased after, awakening others with their loud hoots.
From behind him came their cries. These were answered by shouts from ahead. At first Charming thought it was an echo. But then the fact that the cries from before him were becoming louder tipped him off to the real situation. There were demon knights ahead as well as behind. They must have moved quickly to cut him off. He saw that he was going to have to pass through their ranks.
Pausing to re-drape the cloak of invisibility, he was fascinated to see his hand disappear as soon as the cloth was
passed over it. Charming could look through the cloak and through his hand that it covered and see the ground beneath it.
Of course, the part of his hand that was not covered remained as visible as always. More visible, in fact, since the existence of an arm in which the hand terminated bloodlessly and at a slant did nothing to make it more imperceptible.
Quickly, he draped himself as best he was able and set off running again. He plunged into a broad grassy field. Horsemen appeared by moonlight on the edge of the meadow. Then one of them pointed and waved, saying, "There, where the grass is parted, that's where he must have gone!" Immediately a squadron went out in pursuit.
Charming dodged back into the woods, and there, finding a shallow cave, concealed himself long enough to tear out the cloak's lining. As he had hoped, this material, thin though it was, had the same qualities as the cloak itself. And so Charming could devise a mask for himself, a full-length wraparound mask, and thus even his head was concealed.
He could do nothing about the movements of his passage, however. Every footfall was marked by a bruising of leaves and bending of small boughs and grasses. At least hiding his head was rendering the finding of him more difficult.
He hurried, even knowing that he was kicking up a considerable trail. It occurred to him that he might do better if he could get himself to move slowly and carefully, thus eluding his pursuers while he was among them. That was how a fairytale prince might act, he thought, but that was not the way he was at all. He was running, his long legs exulting in stretching and striding, hurrying away from danger. Viewing himself from the viewpoint of his legs, he was a soaring creature proceeding by leaps and bounds. But the fact was the horses of his pursuers were moving faster. They were coming up on either side of him, the riders only slightly impeded by the necessity of having to sight his movement through the bending branches that marked his passage.
They closed in, their steel lance points winking at him. He could see a clearing ahead, but doubted that he could make it. It was all the more tantalizing because it contained a long limestone shelf. The stone would neither retain his footprints nor reveal his passage. It was going to be close.
Zelazny, Roger - (With Robert Sheckley) Bring Me the Head of Prince Charming (v1.0) Page 19
