They came into direct sight of the base of the tower. The ogre roared gleefully and charged. The men looked up as if surprised. “Uh-oh,” one said.
Then they split, running in opposite directions. The ogre could not catch them both; he had to choose one. He chose Roque, and pounded after him, scarily close. Quiti was horrified; she was sure Roque could run faster than that. It was as if he wasn't really trying.
Then she caught on: Roque was deliberately hanging back, so as to keep the ogre close. So as to lead him a merry chase. But this was a dangerous game. If he misjudged and got caught, it would be the end of him. Not literally, for this was all the imaginary realm. But he would be washed out of the game.
Indeed, Roque appeared not to be going anywhere. He was looping around the paths, clearly familiar with their routes. He had looked at the map. But why tease the ogre at all? It would be better to get entirely clear, so that he could try some other route to the tower.
Then he ran by the hornet's nest, barely ahead of the ogre. And he slapped the nest as he passed. The hornets buzzed out furiously—and fell upon the ogre who was now where the man had been. The ogre windmilled his arms, trying to wave them off, but it was useless; they were now in a stinging frenzy.
While Roque faded out from the scene.
“Ho, Princess!”
Quiti looked down. There was Levi at the base of the tower. While Roque had distracted the ogre, Levi had quietly approached the objective. Instead of fighting each other for the privilege of rescuing her, they had cooperated to make it feasible. In effect letting the ogre make the selection. “Hi, Prince,” she answered.
“Let down your hair.”
Oh. Of course. She quickly unbound her hair and dropped the long tress down outside the tower. In real life her hair was six feet long; here it extended fifty feet, yet was not heavy enough to be a burden. Fantasy was grand! When it touched the ground, she hooked the nearer portion several times around a spoke below the window so that she would not have to bear the man's weight. “Ready,” she called.
Levi took hold of the brown hank.
Then the ogre burst upon the scene, hornets still buzzing around him. He had not after all forgotten his mission. Darn!
Levi let go of the hair and drew his sword. But the ogre was twice his height and eight times his mass, and crazed with blood lust. Levi was game, but plainly no match for it.
What to do? Quiti was darned if she was going to let victory get away, so close to achievement. But what could she do, other than throw herself out the window? She could not fly, here; it was not part of this particular fantasy.
Then she got a notion. She swept up her well filled chamber pot—it seemed she had been some hours in the tower--held it out of the window, oriented, and dropped it on the ogre's head. Her aim was true, as it seemed it was slated to be if she thought of this dodge; it thudded onto the creature's thick skull with a loud thunk. It bounced, turning over, and dumped its contents on the ogre.
And the ogre didn't notice. He continued to grab for the prince. What now?
Quiti got another notion. “Use the hair!” she called.
Levi caught on. He grabbed the swinging end of her tress, then ran around the ogre several times, wrapping the hair about the thing's thick neck in an impromptu noose. It didn't work. So he jumped on the ogre's backside, planted his feet on the neck, and hauled on the tress, tightening the noose. His body was parallel to the ground. He twisted the hair, tightening it further.
The ogre still didn't notice. But the throttle had its effect, and the creature slowly toppled to the ground as Levi jumped off. He left the noose in place and rappelled up the tower wall, slowly climbing up to the window. Such a feat might have been doubtful if not impossible in real life, but this seemed to be another programmed alternative, and he made it to the window. He clambered over Quiti to tumble into the chamber. Victory!
There was a roar from below. The ogre had managed to unwind the loop of hair and was functioning again. Now he was yanking on the hair. Quiti was drawn across the chamber toward the window. She was about to be pulled from the tower!
Levi drew his sword and swung. He severed the tress about six feet from her head. The cut portion snaked on out the window and dropped to the ground. There was a frustrated roar from the ogre below.
Levi swept Quiti into his embrace. “Now at last you are mine, you rapturous creature!” His hands were feeling her body, which was reacting hungrily to his touch.
“But prince, haven't you forgotten something?” she inquired sweetly.
“Forgotten what?”
“We must marry before we become intimate. It is the royal way.”
She was of course correct. “Damn!” he swore, for the moment as frustrated as the ogre.
And how was this playing for the galactic audience? That was what really counted.
There was a pause. Then there was the sound of growing applause.
They liked it! That was the true victory.
*
Their image faded out and Gena returned as the lady centaur. “Part Two is 'The Man,'” she announced. She waved her hand, and was replaced by the tower chamber, this time featuring Speedo. He was handsome in his royal crown and robe, but obviously not happy.
“Woe is me! I refused to marry the ugly princess my father selected for me, to make a good rapport with a powerful neighboring kingdom, and he has punished me by locking me into the dreary tower. If some lovely princess from a compatible kingdom does not rescue me today, I shall be forced to marry the ogress below, who is almost as ugly as the princess I refused. Oh, I hope my girlfriend from Kingdom X comes to me in time!”
Actually he didn't really need to declaim, because he was the viewpoint character in this sequence and his focused thoughts were open to the galactic audience. He could feel the generalized response, especially when he had sex on his mind, as he often did; it seemed that galactics found it interesting too, however it might be rendered for their species.
He looked out the window. There on the edge of the scene came not one but two lovely women wearing dainty gold crowns. He fetched his telescope and quickly mounted it on the sill, and peered through it to see the two more closely. Now they were marvelously immediate and animate, with every breath accenting their frontal splendors. One was a shapely blue-eyed blonde in tight shorts and tighter halter. That was Desiree, De for short, his girlfriend from Kingdom X. The other was Burnetta, an equally shapely black haired brown girl, De's royal friend from Kingdom Y. They were always together, even when he dated De. That didn't bother him, because if truth be told Burn was even sexier than De and he secretly hoped to have something to do with her if he ever caught her alone. Or maybe with the two of them together; that might be even better, if he could only get past their princessly reluctance. He was sure that was merely a flirtatious pose, but they had this inconvenient thing about marrying first. At any rate it made sense that they came here together; maybe they both had an interest in rescuing him. Especially when out of sight of their restrictive parents.
So how did they propose to do it? He had no long hair to let down for them to climb, there were no long ladders, and the ogress constantly lurked. It was surely a challenge. The ogress herself had no problem; she had a little flying carpet strapped on and rolled up on her broad back. She used it to sail up to the window, pass in his meal, and take out his chamber pot. If only the princesses had access to that magic! But to get the rug they would have to overcome the ogress, and that simply was not feasible; she was not nearly as big as the male of her species, in fact hardly taller than a man, but she had muscles to spare. The creature could take a princess in each hammy hand and toss them both into the lake, where the hungry lake monsters lurked. Not that she would do it; why waste perfectly edible food on creatures who hadn't earned it? No, she'd merely squish them into pulp for her cook pot, if she didn't choose to eat them raw.
The princesses put their pretty heads together. He couldn't hear what they were saying, and
hoped it wasn't merely a consultation about what grade of rouge to wear on a warm day. Princesses were generally better at makeup than at slapdown. Then they strode purposefully forward, toward the tower, every step accenting their delightful attributes. No one could walk the way a well formed princess could! But was this wise? The ogress was already bestirring herself, heading out to intercept them. She knew that all she had to do was prevent either of them from reaching the prince in the tower, and tomorrow she would have him all to herself. Ugh! If they weren't careful they could soon wind up in the creature's grasp. Yet they seemed oblivious.
They passed through a copse of thickly leaved trees, and were out of sight for a couple of minutes. Too bad his telescope couldn't see through trees! In fact, too bad it couldn't see through clothing. The ogress couldn't see them either, but that hardly mattered, because her nose was her main guide to prey.
Two figures emerged from the copse. Speedo struggled to get his scope oriented and refocused, but it had to be the princesses, proceeding as carelessly as before. Didn't they know that danger lurked in every turn of every path?
Sure enough, they heedlessly rounded a curve—rounded curves were a princess specialty—and there was the ogress. “Haa!” the creature roared as Speedo finally got his telescope back in gear. The three were now close enough so that he could hear them as well as see them.
What was this? Princess De was there, but now she was accompanied by a man! A handsome prince with a commanding glance. Where was Princess Burn?
The ogress, too, was surprised. She stumbled to a halt, staring. “Huh?” she asked alertly.
The prince spied her, the princess pausing beside him as if amazed by the sight. “What have we here?” he asked rhetorically. “A damsel in distress?”
Speedo choked down his laugh. The ogress was female, but quite unlike a distressed human damsel.
“Uh,” the ogress said, seeming to have no idea how to handle such a ludicrous question.
“Shall we find out?” he asked grandly. He strode forward, swept the ogress into his embrace, and kissed her soundly on her astonished mouth.
The ogress rocked back and fell on the ground, miniature planets and stars swirling around her head. Princess De went to her solicitously, reaching around to steady her as she sat up. “Are you all right? He has a really mean smooch.”
She was comforting the ogress? This was getting weirder.
“All. Right,” the ogress agreed as the planets faded. “Kiss not bad.” Strong as she was, it was plain that she had a weakness for the attention of a handsome man. She had probably never had it before. That was why she wanted to get Speedo to herself.
“Of course it's not bad,” the prince said. “I wouldn't stoop to a bad kiss. I do have some princely pride.” He glanced at De. “Give us some privacy, please, while I make my point more specifically.”
Bemused, De retreated. She was carrying something.
The prince put his arms about the ogress as she staggered back to her feet. He kissed her again, lingeringly. This time the planets were becoming heart shaped.
Then something snagged on one of the ogress's projecting fangs. The prince's face went skew. It was a mask! Under it was the face of Princess Burn.
Burn had changed her appearance while they were hidden in the copse, and somehow fashioned the prince mask.
The ogress stared, amazed again.
“Dang,” Burn swore, as if this unmasking were merely inconvenient. “Yes, I am really a woman. Does it matter?” She kissed the ogress a third time, this time with her real face.
“It even better!” the ogress said as she caught her breath.
“Oh, you're a switch hitter, as I am,” Burn said. “Well, let's get serious.”
Then they were wildly kissing each other. Meanwhile Speedo switched the scope to De, who was unrolling a coiled rug. It was the magic carpet she had filched from the ogress! She spread it on the ground, sat cross-legged on it—Speedo's eyes nearly popped out of his head as he saw under her skirt—and took off. In a moment she was spiraling up toward the tower cell.
She came to hover just outside the window. “Speedo! Get your manly posterior out here!”
This was the rescue! He scrambled out to join her on the rug, sitting behind her. It bobbled but held their weight, which was surely no more than that of the ogress. De leaned back, found his face, and kissed him. Unfortunately it was not feasible to do anything more, perched on the undulating carpet. As perhaps she knew.
They flew down to rejoin Burn. Had she survived her encounter with the ogress?
When they arrived, Burn was fine. The ogress was blissfully asleep in her embrace. “She thought she wanted a prince,” Burn said. “She really wanted a princess. Now at last she knows her nature.” She smiled. “I've had lovers, male and female. She may not look like much, but she's a good one. I'd take her anytime over a typical clumsy man.”
Speedo was suddenly relieved that he had not made it with her; he likely would have been found wanting. Then he became aware of the smell. “Is something burning?”
Burn laughed. “In a manner. I applied a liberal dose of ogre perfume, just to be sure. It smells like a burning field of wild oats.”
He nodded. Burn had never been one to leave things to luck, and she evidently knew how to make a hot scene.
So the second rescue had been accomplished. How had it gone over with the galactic audience? Speedo opened his mind, tuning in the response.
It was mixed but generally positive. Certainly the audience had been surprised. That was enough.
Chap
ter 8
Challenges
Gena the centaur reappeared. “Now for Section Two of our role-playing game, titled 'Sorceress.' It is in two parts. We now commence Part One, 'Dragon.'
She gestured, and her image was replaced by that of the six adventurers standing on a hill overlooking a lovely scene. There were gently rolling hills, as before, but these ones were covered with ordinary trees interspersed by flowering fields, and a river ran through it. In the distance was the dragon's cave, where the nose of the snoozing monster could just be seen. In the farther distance were the turrets of the Sorceress's Castle, which they had to reach. But of course the dragon was there to prevent any such intrusions. The sorceress did not like being disturbed by alien visitors.
Quiti sighed. Couldn't the children have come up with something more original than a sorceress guarded by a dragon? But they were stuck with the derivative setting. They would have to be the ones to contribute whatever originality and drama it might offer.
“This is too pat,” Levi murmured.
There it was: the children had to have some devious surprises lurking.
“We can bet that dragon won't sleep as we pass his cave,” Roque agreed. “We won't be able to sneak past, either. The scene ends to either side; the only viable route is by the cave.” He squinted. “What kind of dragon is it? I don't have much experience with that species.”
Speedo brought out the telescope he had evidently saved from the tower chamber. He put it to one eye. “Looks like a standard model adventure game dragon,” he said. “I lent the kids some of my old games, and they must be drawing from them. In which case this will be a fire-breathing flying serpent with a wingspan the size of a football field and a torchfire reaching a dozen feet before his nose.” He glanced at the sword strapped across his chest. “We'll get fried before we get close enough to smack him on the nose, especially if he's airborne.”
“Which he will be,” Burn said. “I've played those games too. Dragons love to strafe unwary players.”
“There must be a way to handle him without getting our toes toasted,” Levi said. “There's always a way, in role playing games. We just have to figure it out.”
“There's the catch,” Desiree said. “Are we smart enough?”
“We may be,” Speedo said. “I was actually pretty good at games. Once I worked out a way to defeat a flying fire dragon. But it requires some prepar
ation. That means the dragon has to be distracted long enough for the setup.”
“Long enough?” Burn asked.
“Several hours.”
“I've seen those games too,” Quiti said. “Typically dragons fight men and befriend women, at least the young pretty ones. Dragons and damsels; there's a natural affinity, though I don't understand why a dragon should care about a human female other than as a morsel to eat. Some damsels even get to ride dragons. We ladies are probably not in danger unless we deliberately annoy him.”
“And what of the men?” Desiree asked.
“Tough beans for them. It's often a fight to the death, and the dragon usually wins.”
“I wonder,” Burn said. “I see a small lake near that dragon den. Some dragons swim.”
“Not flying fire breathers,” Quiti said, laughing. “The water douses their fire and soaks their wings so they can't fly until they dry off, which can take hours. That dragon won't go near that water other than to drink, carefully.”
Speedo smiled. “Then why don't you fair ladies go and bathe in sight of the cave? The dragon probably won't move until you depart, appreciating the eyeful. That will give us menfolk time to prepare our surprise. We'll make camp here.” He produced a spade; maybe he had found it in the tower. What kind of camp did he have in mind?
The three women shared a glance. Why not? They were ready to do their part.
They trekked toward the lake, which wasn't far. Quiti knew the dragon was aware of them, though he did not move. He wanted to know what these fair damsels were up to. Maybe he would even get a peek. They would not disappoint him.
They came to the water's edge, pretending not to see the dragon. “Oh, look,” Quiti said brightly. “A lovely little lake! Why don't we rest our weary bones and bathe?”
The dragon seemed to hold his breath. At least the wisps of smoke stopped rising from his nostrils. Would they really do it?
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