by Simon Hawke
Pamela flipped off the safety on her pistol, brought it up quickly, aimed and fired.
"Three," she said.
The knife fell from his hand as Black Jack tumbled from the saddle, a bullet right between his eyes. The horses of the mercenaries, already skittish, reacted violently to the gunshot and started neighing and rearing about wildly, plunging off the side of the road as the men shouted out in fear and confusion. And then there came a new sound ... the sound of frenzied, bloodcurdling screams from some of the mercenaries whose horses had bolted into the trees.
"What the hell?" said Pamela, staring in the direction of the sounds.
"Flee!" one of the mercenaries shouted. "Flee, or she shall kill us all!"
But in that moment, a hail of arrows erupted from the forest all around them, every shaft finding a target as the mercenaries tumbled from their saddles one after the other.
"Get down!" Aubrey cried, pulling both the queen and Pamela to the ground with him.
Within seconds, all the mercenaries lay dead and their horses either took off, bolting into the trees or back down the road, or else reared and pawed the ground where they stood, neighing and eyes rolling in confusion.
Pamela looked up. She saw bodies sprawled all over the road. And a moment later several slim figures, all dressed in black, stepped out of the woods. They had long, spiky black hair, sharp features, pointed ears, and piercing eyes. They wore studded black armbands and chokers and they carried longbows, with quivers on their backs and swords buckled round their waists. More joined them, and still more, until they were completely surrounded.
"Elves!" said Aubrey. "We are lost."
"Elves?" said Pamela.
And then a large shadow passed over them and a fearsome roar reverberated through the sky. Pamela looked up and her jaw dropped. "Oh, my God!" she said.
"A dragon!" Sandy said.
Rory banked and came gliding in for a landing in the middle of the road. Rachel jumped off his back and came toward them, the Sword of the Shaman buckled round her waist. " 'Tis all right!" she said. "Have no fear! We shall not harm you!"
"Who are you?" Sandy asked.
"I am Rachel Drum, the warlord of the elven tribes. And this is my friend, Rory."
"How do you do?" said the dragon.
"Oh, my God! It talks!" said Pamela.
"Actually, it would be more correct to say, 'It speaks,' " said Rory. He glanced down at Black Jack's body. "I've seen this one before," he said. "A most unsavory individual. He looks much better with a bullet hole between his eyes. What did you use, if you don't mind my asking?"
Numbly, Pamela held up the pistol, her hand trembling slightly as she showed it to the dragon.
"Ah, a Walther PPK," said Rory. "The gun made famous by Agent 007, James Bond, of Her Majesty's Secret Service."
Pamela swallowed hard, blinked, and shook her head. "I don't believe this," she said weakly.
"Brewster Doc has a gun, too," said Rachel.
"Brewster?" Pamela said. "You know Marvin?"
"Marvin?" Rachel's eyes grew wide. "Is your name ... Pamela?"
"Yes! How did you know?"
In response, Rachel came rushing up to her and gave her a big hug. "Oh, but this is wonderful!" she said. "Rory, do you know who this is?"
"I heard," said Rory. "But who are these other two?"
"I am Lord Aubrey of Ravenhurst," Aubrey said with a slight, nervous bow. "And this is Her Majesty, Queen Sandy of Pitt. And we are indebted to you all."
"The Queen of Pitt?" said Rachel, glancing at Sandy with astonishment.
"I came in search of the wizard, Brewster Doc," said Sandy, "to offer myself as hostage in an effort to forestall the war so that a negotiated peace might be achieved, instead."
"Will somebody get me off this bloody beast?"
They turned to see an elf holding one of the mercenaries' horses. Tied to the saddle was a chamberpot that rocked back and forth as it yelled.
"Get me the hell off this thing!"
"Colin!" Pamela said, rushing forward with relief.
"Another one?" said Rachel with a frown.
"What do you mean, another one?" asked Pamela, as she untied the chamberpot from the saddle.
"Prince Brian was afflicted with the selfsame spell, until Doc spoke the magic words to free him."
"What magic words?" asked Pamela turning around with the chamberpot in her hands.
"Abracadabra, change back," said Rachel.
With a loud pop, Colin reverted to his normal form and both he and Pamela tumbled to the ground.
"Jesus bloody Christ!" said Colin. He picked himself up unsteadily, his clothing and hair disheveled. He reached out and helped Pamela to her feet. He stared at Rachel. "You mean that was all it took?"
Rachel shrugged.
"Where is Marvin?" Pamela asked. "I've got to see him!"
"Hop on," said Rory. "I will take you to him."
"Oh, no," said Colin. "Being a chamberpot strapped to a horse was bad enough, but if you think I'm going riding on a bloody dragon, you're out of your bloomin' mind!"
Pamela grinned. "I wouldn't miss this for the world," she said.
"Pamela! You're not... I mean, you can't seriously-"
"Just watch me," Pamela said, climbing up onto Rory's back. Rachel got up behind her and held her hand out. "Come on, Your Majesty," she said. "Don't worry, 'tis quite safe, I assure you."
"Come, Aubrey," Sandy said. "You shall have a marvelous tale to tell your grandchildren!"
"If 'tis all the same to you, Your Highness," Aubrey said, "I think I would prefer to ride on horseback."
"I'd rather take a cab," said Colin wryly. "But if it's a choice between Rodan there and a horse, I think I'll take the horse."
There was a knock at Brewster's door up in the tower of the keep and he groaned as he sat up in bed. "Yes, I'm up, what is it?"
The door opened and Shannon came in. "You have a visitor," she said with a smile, and stood aside to let Pamela come in.
Brewster was out of bed like a shot. "Pamela? Good God! Is it really you?"
They rushed into each other's arms as Shannon closed the door behind her to give them some privacy. They kissed and held each other, squeezing tight, as if to reassure themselves of the other's reality.
"I can't believe you're here!" said Brewster.
"I can hardly believe it, either," she replied with a smile. "God, I could just strangle you! You've disappeared on me before, but this time, you've really surpassed yourself!"
"How on earth did you get here?"
"It's a long story. I tried to duplicate your machine, but I couldn't get it to work. As usual, your notes were incomplete, and we didn't have any more Buckminsterfullerine."
"So then, how ... ?"
"Warrick."
Brewster's eyes grew wide. "Warrick? Do you mean to tell me he brought you back here?"
"No, he's still there," said Pamela.
"Where?"
"In your lab, at EnGulfCo. Colin knocked him out and we took the machine back, using the auto-return function."
"Colin? Who's Colin?"
"A reporter." She shook her head. "Darling, we've got about a year's worth of catching up to do, and we don't have the time to do it. There's an army on the way here even as we speak, and you're the one they're after."
"Yes, I know."
"Listen, I've got some of Warrick's guards keeping an eye on the time machine back at his tower," she said. "They think I'm a demon Warrick sent back from the ethereal plane to take care of things for him while he's gone. If we leave now, before the army gets here-"
"I can't," said Brewster.
She stood back away from him. "What do you mean, you can't?"
"Just that. I can't leave. I've got to stay here and help these people."
"Are you crazy?"
"Pamela, I got them into this war. This whole thing is my fault. I can't just leave. Besides, these people are my friends. They helped me. I don't know what
I would've done without them."
Pamela gave him a level stare. "Yes, I saw one of those friends just now. She looked like something out of Penthouse."
"Oh, you mean Shannon."
"Yes, I mean Shannon. She seemed very comfortable walking into your bedroom."
"Shannon would be comfortable around King Kong," said Brewster.
"Exactly who is she?"
"Oh, she's the queen."
"Another queen?"
Brewster frowned. "What do you mean, another queen?"
"Well, I've got one, too. Queen Sandy of Pitt. She's downstairs."
"What?"
"As I said, it's a long story. I'll try to give you the abbreviated version, but first, since it looks as if we're going to be staying, do you think you could find me a change of clothes?"
"I'm sure some of Shannon's stuff will fit you."
Pamela grimaced. "I think you need your eyes examined. But I'm flattered that you think so. Ask her if she can lend me something not too tight to wear. Meanwhile, I'll bring you up to date while we go down to the stream, so I can wash some of this road dust off me."
"Wouldn't you rather take a shower?"
She stared at him. "You're kidding."
"Oh, no, we've got hot and cold running water, flush toilets, electricity, the works," said Brewster.
Pamela shook her head. "You know, somehow, I'm not surprised. No wonder they think you're a sorcerer."
"They think you're one, too."
Pamela grimaced wryly. "Well, right now, I wish I could make both of us disappear. Well, all right, where's the bathroom? We can try to catch each other up while I wash."
They stood up on the battlement of the tower, watching as Lord Kelvin's army approached from the west of the keep. "Jesus, look at them all," said Colin, who had recently arrived with Aubrey.
"I cannot understand how they could have crossed the river so quickly," Sandy said.
"Warrick gave Lord Kelvin a spell to freeze the river," said the magic mirror, which was being held by Aubrey. "They simply marched across."
"Nice trick," said Brewster. "I hope they haven't got too many others."
"I will show myself upon the battlement when they approach," said Sandy, "and you can send out a rider with a flag of truce to tell them I'm being held hostage here."
"Uh ... I fear that shall not work," the mirror said.
Aubrey frowned. "What do you mean? Why not?"
"Black Jack made me tell him what your plan was, and he sent riders back to Lord Kelvin with a message that Doc had conjured an illusion of the queen, a sorcerous apparition, and that the real queen was safely back in Pittsburgh. So I don't think he'll go for it."
"I ought to toss you right over the side," said Aubrey to the mirror with a scowl.
"You'll get seven years bad luck ..."
Brewster tensed as he watched the army forming up on the open ground beyond the settlement outside the walls of the keep. "Are the guns ready?"
Mick used signal flags to communicate with Pikestaff Pat, who was in charge of the gun crews on the walls. He waited for the return signal, then turned to Brewster and said, "Ready."
"I wish we didn't have to do this," Brewster said with a sigh. "Well, maybe we can scare them off. They've never seen cannon fire before. You're sure Pat knows to aim short for the first volley, right in front of them? And over the village?"
"Aye, I told him," Mick replied.
"All right. Give him the signal to fire."
Mick gave the signal and the two big guns mounted on the wall emplacements roared. There was a huge flash from each of the guns and smoke from the explosive wine propellant as pieces of iron and stone were hurled up into the air. Several of the brigands on the walls screamed.
"What the hell happened?" Pamela said.
"The barrels blew up!" said Mick. "That idiot, Pat, used too much propellant!"
"Do you think anyone's hurt?" asked Brewster.
"Well, 'twill be some burns and cuts and bruises, to be sure, but if there are any injuries more serious, they bloody well deserve it!" Mick replied. "Now we have no guns!"
"I don't know, it might've done the trick," said Pamela, watching the soldiers. "They surged back in alarm when the guns went off and now they're milling around and looking very disorganized."
"They will not remain that way for long," said Aubrey. "Kelvin is a good general, and afraid of nothing. He will rally them."
"Then we'd better press the advantage before he does," Brewster said. "Send out the tank."
"The tank!" said Pamela, staring at him with disbelief. "You're joking."
But Mick had already given the signal. As the gates in the walls slowly swung open, a ferocious roar and clatter erupted from the courtyard below. The doors to Mick's shop opened and the tank came rolling out, belching peregrine wine steam and sounding like a locomotive.
"You've got to be kidding!" Pamela said as she stared at the contraption that rolled and lurched toward the gates. It looked like a dilapidated, mobile Quonset hut with a stubby gun barrel protruding from the turret, and as it rolled forward, several squads of armored men carrying swords and shields fell in behind it as tank support troops.
"I don't believe it!" Colin said as he stared down at the tank rolling out through the gates. "Christ, I wish I had a camera!"
Some of the troops were rallying, but when they heard the tank lurching toward them, through the settlement beyond the walls, they froze with shock and turned with apprehension in the direction of the sound. When they saw the tank come clattering down the road and toward the open ground, they simply stared, slack-jawed.
"Okay, prepare the Wild Bunch," said Brewster.
Pamela glanced at him, puzzled. "The Wild Bunch?"
Mick gave the signal, and in response, a roaring, thunderous noise exploded from below in the courtyard. And from behind the work sheds by Mick's shop, a dozen incredibly crude-looking motorcycles powered by peregrine wine internal combustion engines wheeled out into the central courtyard. Bloody Bob was in the lead, attired in his "magic visor" helm and chain mail, and the other brigands fell in behind him, blipping their throttles. Long Bill and Froggy Bruce, Fifer Bob and Malicious Mike, Fuzzy Tom and Silent Fred, Winsome Wil and Lonesome John, and Mac's three apprentices, Hugh, Dugh and Lugh, all sat astride the bikes, looking like a bunch of Hells Angels at a Renaissance fair. Bloody Bob looked up toward the tower battlement, waiting for the signal.
"Who's driving the tank?" asked Rachel.
"Brian," Brewster said. He grinned, despite his tension. "He said after being trapped as a chamberpot for years, what's a few hours inside a stove? And Robie's manning the gun."
The tank was rolling across the open ground and toward Lord Kelvin's troops, belching smoke and sounding like a laundry dryer inching its way across a tile floor. Lord Kelvin was forming up his cavalry for a charge. About a hundred yards away from the troops, Brian opened fire.
"All right," said Brewster. "Mick, tell them to drop the hammer!"
Mick swept his signal flag down and the Wild Bunch roared out through the open gates, spreading out as they hurtled through the village toward the troops. The first shot from the tank struck the ground just in front of the cavalry and the already skittish horses went berserk, rearing up and throwing their riders, plunging and bucking all over the place as the men desperately tried to control them. And then the Wild Bunch came roaring up, pulling wheelies and sweeping diagonally across the front ranks of the disorganized troops and tossing grenades into their midst. The ranks were completely broken up as men scattered in all directions, yelling with panic.
"All right, Rachel, it's your turn," said Brewster.
Rachel stuck two fingers in her mouth and whistled loudly. From behind the tower, Rory rose up to the battlement, flapping his great, leathery wings. Rachel leaped astride his back as he took off from the parapet. As Rory swept down over the walls and toward the opposing army, Rachel drew her sword, holding it high above her head, and ye
lled out, "Dwarfkabob!"
Already panic-stricken by the tank and the grenades lobbed by the Wild Bunch, Lord Kelvin's troops just flat soiled their breeches when they got a load of the fire-breathing dragon. And then the elves came streaming out of the forest behind them, screaming out their war cry, "Dwarfkabob!"
"Doc!" yelled Mick. "Look there!"
Brewster looked in the direction Mick was pointing, and for a moment he wasn't sure he was seeing right. From the west, the same direction that Lord Kelvin's army came from, a forest was moving down the road.
"Do I see what I think I'm seeing?" Pamela asked with disbelief.
No, it wasn't a scene from Macbeth, it was, indeed, a moving forest, or more precisely a herd of peregrine bushes. (Actually, "herd" isn't quite the right word. You can have a herd of cattle, but I guess a bunch of bushes would be called a "hedge.")
"It's Thorny!" Brewster shouted. "He didn't desert me, after all!"
"They're cutting off Kelvin's retreat," said Aubrey.
Indeed, they were. Several platoons of soldiers had taken off en masse down the road to the west, running back the way they had come, but when they saw the gigantic hedge of adult peregrine bushes moving toward them, with thorns large enough to impale Dracula himself, they turned and ran the other way. And then, over the noise of the battle, a new sound came from the east, the sound of hundreds of deep voices rapping in unison:
"Heeyyy, hogooo! Heeyyy, Hoooo!
We're marching to Brigantium,
So stand aside and let us pass!
We're marching to Brigantium,
We're gonna kick some Pittsburgh ass!"
"It's the dwarves!" said Mick.
And as the dwarves came marching down the road, carrying their nasty little crossbows and their mean little warhammers, the Army of Brigantium appeared, with Mac leading the foot soldiers and Shannon leading the cavalry. Lord Kelvin's army suddenly found itself completely boxed in.
Okay, now I know what some of you are thinking. These guys are going to get cut to ribbons and Brewster's forces are going to win the day, because it would be a real letdown if they lost, but at the same time, it's downright cruel to make Queen Sandy watch her people being slaughtered. After all, she did everything in her power to avert this battle and at considerable risk to her own safety, she rode all the way to Brigantium to offer herself up as hostage in an effort to save lives. Now, it looks as if all her efforts were in vain and the Army of Pitt is doomed.
