by Mike Ashley
Late in the afternoon, at the end of her longest flight, Princess came to earth. She glanced at her husband sadly and lighted on her saddle without a word. After a time, Kedrigern rode to her side.
“Would you like me to massage your wings, my dear? They must be sore,” he said.
She shook her head and sighed.
“You can give them a good rest. We’ll make camp soon. The gnome settlement is close by,” he said.
She nodded disconsolately and sighed once again. Kedrigern could tell that she preferred to be alone with her thoughts. He rode ahead until he found a grassy knoll near a rushing stream, and here he dismounted to await the others.
Jeniby pitched the tents and cared for the horses – very gingerly, in the case of Kedrigern’s – while Turll and the wizard gathered wood. Before the sun had set, a cheery fire was burning, and the odor of grilled fish was in the air. Kedrigern announced the evening’s agenda: a brief rest, and then a visit to the gnomes.
“Do you have a plan for stealing up on them unseen?” Turll asked eagerly.
“One does not steal up on a gnome. Particularly not on a night when the moon is almost full. Princess and I will approach them openly and announce ourselves as we go.”
“What about us?”
“You and Jeniby will stay here and do nothing to alarm anyone in any way. Is that understood?”
It was understood, and events proceeded as Kedrigern had directed. At moonrise he and Princess donned their cloaks and set out on foot for the gnomes’ settlement. When they had gone a few hundred paces, Kedrigern removed the silver medallion from around his neck and held it before him, dangling by its chain from one finger, slowly turning in the moonlight.
“This will let them know we’re coming,” he explained. “It gives off a signal.”
“I don’t hear anything,” said Princess.
“You’re not a gnome.”
They proceeded several hundred paces farther along the moonlit forest path without a word spoken, then the wizard said, “It would help, I think, if you removed your cloak and let them see your wings.”
“Why? I’m not a gnome,” Princess replied crossly.
“Please, my dear.”
“Keddie, it’s chilly. They’ll stiffen up.”
“Just for a few minutes. To win their confidence.”
Muttering, she unfastened her cloak and flung it to him. In the bright moonlight her wings looked like pearl. They gleamed as she slowly fluttered them. A few paces on, in a clearing, Kedrigern laid a hand on her arm. They halted. Small voices came faintly from the base of a tree, and then were still. A single piping voice almost at their feet said, “A wizard, a good fairy, and a full moon are always welcome arrivals.”
Kedrigern replaced the medallion around his neck and wrapped Princess’s cloak about her shoulders. Hunkering down, he softly said, “However tall the tree, its leaves must fall to the ground.”
From all around them came a low murmur of approbation. The voice at their feet said, “He who eats salt is soon thirsty.”
“But a drowning man does not beg for water,” the wizard responded.
This time the encircling voices were more distinct in their expressions of approval, such as, “Well said,” and “Hear, hear,” and “Good thinking.” When they subsided, there was a profound pause, and then the single voice nearby said, “The oak gives more shade than the acorn.”
Kedrigern stood erect, nodded, and murmured his approval. At an urgent wink from him, Princess clapped her hands and said, “Oh, how very true!” Kedrigern stood with folded arms, silent, motionless, for a full minute before saying, “Even the king’s horse has only four legs.”
This was received more enthusiastically than his earlier pronouncements. There were even a few cheers from the unseen audience. Kedrigern acknowledged them by a gracious wave of his hand. It was some time before complete silence was restored.
“He who does not know one thing, knows another,” the tiny interlocutor solemnly declared.
Kedrigern and Princess both applauded, and nodded with manifest agreement. The wizard cleared his throat, placed his hands on his hips, and said, “It is better to know something about nothing than to know nothing about everything.”
A moment of absolute stunned silence followed, and then the clearing erupted with little shouts and cheers and wildly supportive cries. Here and there, pinpoints of light appeared, and brightened, and Princess and Kedrigern could see, illuminated by glowworm lanterns, a score or so of little men in hooded garments.
One of them mounted a flat stone and signaled for silence. To the visitors, he said, “Welcome. Your command of gnomic sayings attests to your wisdom and goodness, and you give off emanations of benign wizardry. What do you seek?”
“A gnome has gone bad and carried off a beautiful princess,” said Kedrigern. Cries of anger and dismay arose from the little people, and in the fuss, two of the lanterns fell to the ground. The wizard went on, “Help me to find him, and save the princess, and I will use my power to seek a cure for him.”
There was much excited murmuring, some running back and forth, and a clustering into talkative groups. Princess looked at Kedrigern in inquiry, but he was gazing resolutely ahead, unmoved by the uproar at ground level. It subsided in time, and the gnomes’ spokesman gave his response.
“You have been misinformed, wizard. Gnomes do not go bad.”
“As we both know well, gnomes sometimes do go bad; and a bad gnome is a big gnome. The one I speak of is already twice human size,” said Kedrigern coolly.
After a lengthy pause and some whispered exchanges, the gnome said, “You have obviously mistaken a giant for a spoiled gnome. Giants are all bad to begin with. Gnomes are pleasant, helpful, and law-abiding.”
“This giant had lost his hair and beard—”
“Shaven,” the gnome interrupted.
“And wore the traditional gnome’s hood and breeches—”
“Stolen.”
“And carried off a beautiful princess from the bosom of her family.”
The gnome hesitated for an instant, then said lamely, “Giants are notoriously impulsive in their courtship.”
“This won’t do. You can’t cover it up. There’s a bad gnome running around loose, a princess is lost somewhere in the woods, and a bold knight is pursuing them both. If you don’t cooperate, there may be violence and bloodshed. Quite a bit of it.”
“It’s all a mistake. Gnomes are nonviolent. You must—” the gnome began, but another little voice, this one slightly cracked, cried out, “Speak truth to the wizard! Tell all, and there may be hope for my boy!”
As Kedrigern and Princess watched, a stooped and venerable gnome made his slow and painful way, with the aid of a tiny stick, to the flat stone. Shouldering the speaker aside, he tapped his stick sharply against the stone to bring the assembly to order. Kedrigern dropped to one knee, and Princess came to his side and seated herself on the grass, so they might hear the old gnome clearly.
“The unfortunate creature you seek is my youngest son, Alaska,” he wheezed. “I blame myself for his tragic plight.”
“It’s not your fault. It can happen to any gnome,” the wizard assured him.
“I should have acted sooner. When he began to mope, I blamed the weather. When he molted, I told myself it was his diet. Only when he began to grow did I accept the truth, and by then it was too late.” He stretched out a tiny hand in appeal. “Alaska’s a good boy, wizard. He’s not himself anymore.”
“I understand.”
“You’ll cure him, won’t you?”
“I’ll try. There’s no known cure. I’m a wizard, not a magician.”
The aged gnome shrugged. “It’s better than nothing. All right, here are the facts. One week ago this very night, Alaska shot up to more than human size. We took out the great suit, and scarcely had we made him decent, when he gave an awful cry and rushed off.”
“What did he say?”
“Something about a
princess. I didn’t catch the exact words.”
“Did anyone try to follow him?”
“No. It was almost sunrise. The big ones can take sunlight pretty well, but we find it painful. But he came back this way two nights ago.”
“Was he carrying a princess?” Princess asked excitedly.
“I can’t really say. Alaska had something in his hands. It was green, as I recall. But he was moving pretty fast, and my eyesight isn’t what it used to be. I’ll be 410 next Nargeldarf, you know.”
“Congratulations. I’m only 170 myself.”
“You’re only 168. Don’t exaggerate,” Princess whispered disapprovingly.
“Just rounding off,” was the wizard’s whispered reply. Addressing the gnome, he asked, “Which direction did he go?”
“Off to the northeast. Somebody once told him there was a castle up that way.”
“I see. Good,” said Kedrigern with evident satisfaction. “Well, thank you very much. You’ve been most helpful.” He rose and dusted off his knee.
“You’ll help Alaska now, won’t you?” said the aged gnome hopefully.
“I’ll do all I can to get him back to you, safe and small,” Kedrigern assured him. Helping Princess to her feet, he said, “Let us take our leave of these good folk, my dear.”
“They won’t even notice I’m gone. They don’t pay much attention to a princess,” Princess said sotto voce.
“Don’t take it personally, my dear. Gnomes don’t pay very close attention to anything. And these particular gnomes have a lot on their minds just now.”
“I can’t help it. Nobody’s worried about poor Floramella, or the other princesses this big gnome may have carried off by now.”
“Turll is concerned.”
“Yes, but it’s not a consuming, single-minded concern. Turll is as much interested in doing a bold deed as he is in rescuing Floramella.”
Kedrigern did not respond until they were well out of the gnomes’ hearing, and then he said, “Turll may have his chance to do both, my dear. Alaska will be coming back this way, and he will probably be carrying Floramella. We’ll head northeast and meet him.”
Princess stopped, tugged at Kedrigern’s sleeve, and looked into his face. He halted at her side. In the moonlight she could see his confident smile.
“What makes you so sure of all this?” she demanded.
“First of all, there is no castle in the northeast. There is a chasm, and it’s impassable, so Alaska will have to return this way.”
“Why did someone tell Alaska that he would find a castle up that way?”
“You’ve seen for yourself that gnomes are very inattentive. Someone must have mentioned the chasm, and Alaska thought he had said castle, and when he wanted to seek a beautiful princess, he naturally thought of looking in a castle. It makes perfect sense.”
Princess frowned thoughtfully. “And how can you be so sure he’ll be carrying Floramella?”
“Well, his father said that Alaska was carrying something green, and we know that Floramella was wearing green when she was abducted. And since there are no other beautiful princess in the vicinity except yourself, he has probably hung on to Floramella.”
“Oh, that poor girl!”
“Aside from the inevitable shaking up, Floramella’s not too badly off. Gnomes aren’t cruel, and they’re very possessive. The only danger is that Alaska will put her down in some remote place and forget about her.”
“Then we must find her tomorrow. We must!”
“It will all be up to you, my dear. You must fly as you’ve never flown before. I’ll give your wings a good massage before we turn in.”
Princess gave a brave little nod and set her jaw. Hand in hand, they returned to the campsite.
Next morning at dawn they set out in a northeasterly direction. Princess went aloft while the mist was still clearing ahead of a stiff breeze, and despite buffeting winds, she stayed up with only the shortest breaks until they stopped in a grassy clearing by a pond for a light midday collation. She finished her bread and cheese quickly, took a sip of water, and flexed her wings.
“Surely you’re not going up again without a rest,” said Kedrigern, laying a hand on her forearm.
“I must. That poor child is out there somewhere, waiting for help.”
“You’ll exhaust yourself. You’ll strain your wings.”
“Once I’ve spotted Alaska, my part of the work is done. I’ll rest then,” Princess said. She waved a brisk farewell, took three light steps forward, and soared up and over the treetops.
“My lady Princess is plucky,” said Turll, and Jeniby seconded his words with vigorous gestures signifying courage and determination.
“Her back will be stiff for six months,” Kedrigern muttered with a resigned sigh as he watched her diminish and finally vanish into the bright sky. He cut himself a fresh slab of cheese, tore off a chunk of bread, and settled back against a tree trunk.
Turll was silent, but visibly fidgety. When Kedrigern had finished lunch and was flicking the larger crumbs from his tunic, the young knight blurted, “Master Kedrigern, is there really hope for Floramella? Will we find the wicked gnome, that I might wreak a just vengeance on him?”
“We’ll find them, Turll. There’s nowhere else for Alaska to go. He has to come back this way.”
“Then shall I confront him. If I overcome, and rescue my Floramella, do you think it will count as a feat?”
Kedrigern studied Turll’s eager countenance for some sign of derangement. Finding none, he replied cautiously, “I should say there’s a good chance it might.”
Shaking his head and gesturing in frustration, Turll said, “I have failed to make myself clear, good master. I was referring to the terms of the curse of Cashalane.”
“Oh, that. Yes, of course. You mentioned it the other day,” Kedrigern said, relieved.
“The curse was placed upon my grandfather, Turll of the Golden Helmet, for words he uttered in a moment of anger. It passed on to my father, Turll of the Silver Spur, and thence to me, Turll of the Bronze Shield.”
“It’s certainly affected the family fortunes. Another generation or two, and you’ll be down to Turll of the Big Wooden Club.”
“Such is my fear. The curse of Cashalane is a devilish curse. It requires a Turll to accomplish a feat, but does not specify what that feat is.”
“The uncertainty must be difficult to deal with.”
“It is the worst part. My grandfather did many a great feat, especially in taming giants, but all to no avail. Father also did great things. His specialty was monsters. He slew them, tamed them, restored them to human form, tricked them into self-destruction – one great feat after another, but not, alas, the right feat to free us from the curse. And if I should fail, it may be as you say . . . the decline and eventual collapse of the house of Turll.”
Kedrigern shook his head in sympathy. Both men were silent for a time, and then the wizard asked, “Is Floramella aware of the family curse?”
Turll brightened; became, in fact, flushed with joy. “Yes, angelic creature that she is, she knows, and she is willing to be my wife in spite of it!”
“That’s very sweet of her.”
Turll nodded in eager agreement. Then his face fell, and he shook his fists at the heavens and cried in a mournful voice, “Oh, the injustice! The unfairness! One fair princess willing to marry a wretch like me, and she’s the one to be carried off! So many beautiful princesses lie sleeping for a hundred years, or enchanted in some inconvenient way, and under awful spells – nobody would miss them but that stupid gnome had to find my Floramella!”
“Look at the positive side, my boy: this may be your chance to do the proper feat.”
“That’s true. And even if it isn’t, there’s the honor of the reward.”
“Reward?” Kedrigern’s interest quickened.
“Floramella’s father, Llunn of Lavish, has promised a rich reward to the one who saves his daughter. I could not accept it, of course
.”
“I could,” said Kedrigern, springing lightly to his feet. “To horse! We’re wasting time.”
Scarcely had he vaulted into the saddle of his great black steed, when Princess dove to his side, where she hovered, breathless, for a moment, pointing up the path. By the time she could gasp, “Alaska! Coming this way!” the sound of thudding footsteps and cracking branches was already unmistakable. Turll snatched up his helmet and ran to his horse, Jeniby close behind him, bearing lance and shield. Haste made them clumsy, and Kedrigern rode before them, to intercept the fast-approaching Alaska.
“No, wizard! Let it be my hand that saves the fair Floramella, else my feat may not be accomplished!” Turll shouted.
“All right. I’ll just get his attention and make sure he stops.”
As the gnome burst into the clearing, bearing a limp girl in one arm, Kedrigern’s horse reared, tossed its mane, and snorted twin jets of bright flame. Alaska stopped in his tracks, fascinated by the sight. When the horse settled, Kedrigern sat with folded arms, boldly staring down the oversized gnome, who peered out from under his bushy white brows in befuddled astonishment, making low, unintelligent noises.
“He’s all yours, Turll,” said the wizard as the knight rode to his side.
“Hear me, gnome!” Turll cried in a mighty voice. “Release that fair maid and prepare to meet thy fate!”
Alaska gave a deep, angry growl and shook his fist in a menacing gesture. Turll countered by brandishing his lance and giving his battle cry, “A Turll and a bold feat!” The gnome growled again, louder, and put Floramella down gently. He stepped before her and thumped his chest.
