The Dragon in Lyonesse

by Gordon R. Dickson

  There was a hollow feeling in his stomach as he touched her; but her hand felt like any other human hand in his—somewhat cold, but not excessively so under the autumn-outdoors temperature inside the pavilion.

  He let go again.

  She stared down at her own hand as if it had betrayed her.

  "I am lost!" she said. "The gales will no longer obey me. I will be no more!"

  "No such damned thing!" exploded Brian. He stepped forward himself, picked up her hand himself, and kissed the back of it in his most courtly manner. "—My Queen!"

  She stared at him with wide eyes as he let go. She stared at the back of her hand.

  "Of course, the gales will still obey you," Jim said. "Your magic doesn't own you. You own it. You've just uncovered something you've been keeping hidden from yourself; hiding it with your own magic. You don't have to steal warmth from anyone else you touch!"

  "I am not cold," she said, folding her arms around her, and holding an opposite elbow in each hand, as if she held her body like that of any stranger. "I am not cold!"

  "Right," said Jim. "But we've got to be going back to Lyonesse. Maybe my Lord QB would be good enough to take you—"

  "Of course," said the QB. "I will be glad to take the Queen of Northgales—but only to where we are going. From there with her own magick she can go the rest of the way herself."

  "Fine," said Jim. "Now, Northgales, for the last time, while there's a moment, what did you want to tell me?"

  "I will tell you of Morgan le Fay," said Northgales, lifting her head to look at him like a person awakened suddenly. "I will tell you all I know, if you will help me against her."

  "Join us in everything—wholeheartedly join us, you understand—and we'll all help you. But you'll have to help us in turn. As for Morgan, you've already let out that she wants to own the Drowned Land; and in exchange she'll use her magic to help Cumberland in something in the land above. What's she planning?"

  "Alas," said Northgales, "that I do not know. But her magickal powers are great—especially with those who are dying, and those close in danger of death."

  "I don't see it helps us much to know that," said Jim. "What can you tell us about the other two Witch Queens of Lyonesse, she of Eastland, and she of Out Isles?"

  "Much. What do you wish to know?"

  "Too much to ask now, I guess, come to think of it," said Jim grimly. "QB, I'm going to delete the pavilion. Will you take us back as soon as it vanishes?"

  "The sun—" began Northgales in alarm.

  "It won't hurt you now. Ready, QB?"

  The pavilion disappeared. The slice of darkness flashed in and out; and they were back at the Originals' Gathering Place. The seated Knights about where they appeared looked up, startled.

  "Farewell," said Northgales, looking at Hob. "Farewell, little one. I think… I think someday I may have what you call love for you, too."

  "Oh, I'm happier now, my Queen," said Hob.

  She vanished.

  "Hah!" said a hard, bass voice; and Jim looked up to see Pellinore. "Here you are. I had been sure you were with me; but meseems you left, and without a word."

  "Come," he went on, without waiting for an answer; and turning, led the way to and up three steps into the pavilion. Its circular floor was crowded with many of the picnic-style tables, of which, at the moment, only one was occupied.

  Behind its farther edge sat five of the Original Knights of the Legends. They were all clean-shaven, and none looked to be more than in his forties; but there was an air of authority and experience about all of them.

  "Hob," whispered Jim, just in time, "hide!"

  Hob dived down Jim's back, between his chain mail shirt and the cloth one underneath. How he thinned himself out to do it, Jim did not know—it probably had something to do with his being able to get through any place smoke could get through.

  "Sirs," said Pellinore, stopping before the table, with Jim and the others behind him. "May I make known to you Sir James Eckert de Malencontri, Sir Brian Neville-Smythe of Castle Smythe, both of the land above; and the Lord QB, with whom you are familiar, with the King of the Drowned Land and Prince…"

  —To Jim's surprise, he pronounced Dafydd's Drowned Land princely title in the unpronounceable language of its people.

  "—from our neighbors of the country next to us. Their land, also, has been under attack from the Dark Powers that threaten to attack us."

  "Sirs," said the Original Knight in the center of the table, the shortest of them there, but with a broad jaw that gave him a pugnacious look, "we are honored to meet with you."

  "Before you," said Pellinore, half turning to Jim and the others, "allow me to name Sir Gawain; to his right Sir Cador of Cornwall, and beyond Sir Cador, King Bors. To Sir Gawain's left is Sir Idrus, and beyond Sir Idrus, Sir Berel—all gentlemen who have fought in their time against Rome."

  "Will you sit, Sirs?" said Sir Gawain. In spite of his shortness he was stocky and looked powerful. He spoke in a cold, level baritone.

  Jim and the others, including Pellinore, pulled up stools to their side of the table and sat—all except the QB, of course, who sat politely on his haunches, his head on a level with that of everyone else.

  "Sirs," said Gawain, "we five have been discussing what is to be done about the force now encamped in the Borderland of the Drowned Land, if they should dare to move into Lyonesse. We have come to certain agreement on several matters. The one is the place at which they will hope to fight us."

  "To know where they wish to hold battle is indeed a useful thing," said Pellinore. "Which place have you decided upon?"

  "The Empty Plain," said Sir Gawain.

  Heads nodded on Gawain's side of the table—and to Jim's astonishment, he saw not only Pellinore's head nodding on their side, but Dafydd's and David's as well.

  "Forgive me," said Jim, "but I don't know where the Empty Plain is, or what it's like. Would you tell me?"

  "You do not known the Empty Plain, Sir?" asked Sir Idrus, a lean-faced man with dark, bright eyes. All of those on the other side of the table stared at Jim unbelievingly.

  "Sir James has been through Lyonesse only once before, on his way to the rock wherein hides Gnarlyland; and on this occasion," said Dafydd, "has been here but a short time—I pray the grace of your forgiveness for my interruption, but I thought it was well to mention this. I, and the King of the Drowned Land beside me, know of it from those of our own people who have ventured a certain distance only into this magick ground."

  The looks directed by the others darkened from unbelief to something close to contempt.

  "Sir James is himself a magickian from the land above," said Pellinore.

  The contempt evaporated, leaving only surprise and respect—with even perhaps a touch of healthy caution mixed in as well.

  "Might you tell me, Sirs," said Jim, remembering to be on his best fourteenth-century manners, "why the Empty Plain should be first choice of place for this battle?"

  "Only decent place with enough ground for a battle," said Sir Idrus. "But not only that, Sirs," said Sir Gawain, "but those who would invade Lyonesse have heard, beyond any doubt, that our trees are magick; and they do not wish to be ambushed beneath them for fear of what they may be able to do."

  "In fact, however, the help of trees is not needed," put in Sir Bors.

  "But these invaders do not know that," said Sir Gawain; "although, in fact, they have been known to reach down their limbs and strangle those who would do evil here."

  "It is not much help in battle," said King Bors, "if an enemy or two is slowly strangled while the fighting is going on."

  "Come!" said Pellinore's deep voice. "Let us not waste our time on small things when Lyonesse is threatened. I agree, we all agree, that the Empty Plain is the most likely field of battle, where they will expect us to meet them; and there shall we be, of course. You have Sir James and his friends who are wise in experience with the Dark Powers that are said to be behind this. Let you make use of his knowle
dge by asking him what you will while he is here."

  "You are much in the right, King Pellinore," said Gawain. "We have decided you shall lead—"

  —They might have started out by mentioning that, Jim told himself—

  "—May I ask, then," Sir Gawain was going on, "if you, Sir James, know who will lead our foes?"

  "A knight named Sir Robert de Clifford, Earl of Cumberland, Sirs," said Jim. "He's not someone those who will face us could love; but he's a…" Jim's mind hunted hastily for the proper word, and in desperation grabbed one at random—though by his standards it didn't fit. "—a knight of prowess and experience in war. He'll make a strong enemy."

  "If Arthur were still with us, or Lancelot, nothing about those who come would matter," said Sir Berel, speaking for the first time.

  "But they are not," said Gawain to him; and turned back to Jim. "… and you judged their force to be between eight and twelve hundred of lances?"

  "That wasn't my count," said Jim, "but Sir Brian's, who is better at such numbering than I am."

  "But you, Sir," said King Bors unexpectedly; "as a magickian, surely you would know best of any?"

  "King Bors," said Jim, thankful that the name was familiar to him from the Legends, so he could remember which man it had gone with, "a knight has rules by which he must live, if he is to be a worthy knight. Similarly, a worker of magic has the rules that govern magickians. Those rules I may not and will not break. I will say no more than that."

  "Hah!" said Sir Bors, but added no more.

  "Still," said Sir Idris, after a short silence, "that cannot but bring us to a question that we must ask." He looked at Sir Gawain.

  "Do you wish to be the one to put it, Sir?"

  "Since I sit in the center of the table, it is doubtless for me to do so," said Gawain. He looked hard at Jim. "Sir, we honor you for coming to aid us with word of our enemies and what other help you will to give. But will you tell us why such as yourselves and your friends should come to the aid of Lyonesse at all, since you are so far removed from us?"

  For some reason, it was the last question Jim had been expecting. In spite of himself, he fumbled internally, searching for words to answer it. But while he hesitated, Brian burst out.

  "Sir!" He threw a quick side glance at Jim. "The grace of your pardon, Sir James—but, noble Knights all! We may be from another land far removed from here; but there is no gentleman worthy of his vows in the land we come from whose heart does not lift at the name of King Arthur and the Adventures of his Knights. It is in his name and yours that we judge ourselves and each other. How could Sir James and I stand idle at distance, knowing the Dark Powers and those that go with them are attempting to bring trouble to those of the Round Table?"

  Three of the five at the table said "Hah!"; and Sir Cador of Cornwall even went so far as to reach toward the right side of his upper lip, as if to twirl the end of a nonexistent mustache, before seeming to appear conscious of what he was doing and dropping his hand.

  "Then we are much reassured," said Gawain, "not wishing, as you can understand, Sir Brian and Sir James, to be beholden to any who offer us help for some light or selfish reason."

  "Of course you wouldn't," said Jim, moved enough to forget his attempts to speak in a medieval fashion. "We honor you for it!"

  "It is not needed that Knights of Arthur's be honored for such a duty," said Gawain, his cold voice spacing out the words. "Well, then, I think we have all in hand. With those recently returned to us from deaths before the Lyonesse we know now, we will field near three hundred of lances. So many should suffice. I believe that is all. Our Descendants will follow us, of course, but it should be our endeavor to protect them by dealing with the foe ourselves. King Pellinore will lead us; and our friends here will lend such aid of which they are capable; for which we offer them thanks. Is there anything more to be said?"

  Jim blinked. These men might be the greatest of warriors; but three hundred men against eight to twelve hundred, in man-to-man encounters? It was simply unbelievable.

  "There is no way, then, we might draw them into an ambush?" said Sir Berel, a plumpish Knight, in a slightly wistful voice. "Against the Romans, Sir Lionel and Sir Bedivere, by laying in ambush, won much honor, though for a short time only. Sir Idrus and myself fell into Roman hands until you, Sir Gawain, with good Sir Idrus—"

  "That was only a small part of the Roman Army," said Sir Idrus. "You will remember the full battle was fought and won later against the Emperor Lucius. We are known not to be such Knights as to all flee cowardly from the field, which alone could draw them after us."

  "Nor do I think even that would serve," said the deep voice of Pellinore, unexpectedly. "Fear of what they have heard of the trees, from what the Prince on this table-side has told me of Cumberland's leman, will keep them on the Plain. She well may be a Witch Queen from the land above; and knows more of our land than she should."

  There was a little silence.

  "Further, Sirs," said Pellinore, "if by your choice I am to lead and command, I shall do so. There will be no ambushes. We must trust as always in God and our good right arms."

  Gawain looked at him a little sharply, a sudden, darting glance. But as quickly looked away again.

  "Lord QB," Pellinore said, "may I ask you if the trees would be good enough to give warning to you when these landless men enter our ground—and that you will then warn us?"

  "Sir, they will, and I will. You will have time to marshal your forces ready for them in the trees at this end of the Empty Plain, before they can advance in order across it."

  "Ah," said Sir Idrus, "how I remember, when Arthur asked for counsel from his fellow kings before going to war with Lucius, the Roman Emperor. Anguish of Scotland offered him thousands of men-at-arms—the King of Little Britain so promised as well, as did the Lord of West Wales, Sir Lancelot, and others; and all of us of the Round Table promised what we could. Now…"

  "That was then and this is now," said Gawain, rising. "This Cumberland who comes against us now has no more than twelve hundreds of men, by the word of Sir Brian. I feel there is no more needed to be said. We will deal with him."

  He rose to his feet. Jim, aghast that they should break up with no more than had been settled so far, held out a hand almost without thinking.

  "Sir!" he said. "If you will give me the grace of a moment's word more—"

  Gawain checked himself, and stood, but with no particularly interested look on his face.

  "There might be a lot to gain, if we think about it just a moment more," Jim said rapidly. "Stop and think—the Dark Powers have been sending their Harpies over the Drowned Land, to whom they are equally an enemy. But the Drowned Land has archers of great skill, who might well be willing to fight beside you on the Empty Plain. There is a war formation which has won great victories over much greater forces in the land above, using archers on the wings of their line of battle, with the men-at-arms in the center—"

  "I honor them that they did so well in that fashion," interrupted Gawain. "Each knight may do as he wishes; but for me, I prefer to win my own wars with my own sword and lance. However, nothing is lost, for you may advance your plan to King Pellinore, who now leads. God be with you, Sirs."

  He stepped back, walked around the end of the table and past Jim and the others toward the edge of the pavilion.

  The others on his side of the table also stood, one by one, and with a "Good day, Sirs," followed Gawain's departure.

  Chapter Thirty-Eight

  After Gawain and the other Knights had disappeared, Pellinore listened politely while Jim went into details, from his student days, of the battles at Crecy and Poitiers in France.

  "… also," Jim wound up, "I haven't had a chance to talk to Dafydd"—he thought for a moment of wrestling with Dafydd's Drowned Land name and title, and decided against it; Pellinore knew who he was talking about—"but I've got an idea of how to use my magic, with Sir Brian's help, to clear the skies over the Drowned Land so the archers of t
he Blue could safely come here. I don't even know, of course, if they'd want to—"

  "They would," said Dafydd.

  "Thank you, Dafydd—but they could make the battle far more even and might easily insure Lyonesse winning it."

  Pellinore nodded.

  "What you say is undoubtedly true," he said. "And those Drowned Land archers are no doubt brave, honest fellows of great skill and craft with their own weapon. It would be something for almost any army to consider, as most consider simple, ordinary men-at-arms on foot with spears and such."

  There was the faintest of pauses. Jim, who had experienced turndowns from experts in the academic field—and they were no slouches at that in the academic field—felt one coming now.

  "But to die is nothing for a knight, as you must know yourself," went on Pellinore; and if we cannot defend the land of Arthur with our own arms alone we do not deserve to keep it. Otherwise, how could any believe we had a right to it in the first place? God Himself could call us to question, and rightly so.

  "But I thank you, Sir James, you, Prince of the Sea-washed Mountains"—the translation of Dafydd's Drowned Land title returned to Jim's memory even though its pronunciation continued to be impossible for him—"and these good archers for the willingness to aid us. Now, I must be about many matters connected with getting us ready for the onslaught. All of us will wish to have armor, horse, and gear in good readiness for the moment. Give you all good day."

  He left them.

  "QB," said Jim, as that individual led Jim, Brian, Dafydd, and King David off the raised pavilion floor in a somewhat different direction from the one in which Pellinore had left, "if I'm not asking for more than I should, did I offend them—King Pellinore and Gawain—with my suggestions?"

  "King Pellinore, never," said the QB. "Gawain has always been quick to find cause to be offended, however. Thwarting him in the slightest may cause it. But in this case, if he was, there was no reason for him to be so."

  "Thanks," said Jim. "That relieves my mind a bit."