Her Majesty's Wizard

by Christopher Stasheff

  Stegoman spotted a reasonably clear lane through the foe and waited not upon the order of his going. His legs pumped furiously, and the distance widened.

  Then a howl rent the air, and the army of sorcery disgorged a pride of monsters-winged serpents dripping poison, long lizard things with crowns on their heads, and a host of vampire bats. At their sides ran four-foot hounds with blazing eyes and steel teeth.

  Stegoman leaped into a bone-jarring gallop. They rode pellmell into the foothills, with the howls and chittering growing louder behind them. The Black Knight cast a glance backward. "They are closer, Wizard, and will catch us ere the sun can rise!"

  "What are our chances against them?"

  "Ill. We would wound them sorely, but, being spawn of Hell, they heal instantly. They'll drag us all down to death."

  "Aye," Stegoman growled. "I know these winged snakes. One touch with those fangs and even I must die."

  "We cannot stand against them," Sir Guy asserted. "Now, methinks, 'tis kill or cure, Lord Wizard. The time is past, for mere conjecture."

  "That's what I was afraid of," Matt said. At least this time he had his verse already figured out.

  "Let torn skin grow back apace! Mend this dragon, strut and brace! Yield airfoils, to be extended! Let this dragon's wings be mended!"

  Leather boomed as fifty-foot wings caught the breeze and the dragon soared aloft with a hawk-screech of joy.

  "Free!" Stegoman cried out as he spiraled upward. "Oh, bless a wizard who is mindful of his promise!" He roared out fire in exultation.

  Matt leaned forward as the dragon banked into a swooping upward turn. "Stegoman! Level off!"

  "Wozzhat?" The dragon looked back over his shoulder, pie-eyed.

  "Level off! And don't breathe fire for a while, huh?"

  As Stegoman started to obey, Matt relaxed. Then the knight was clasping his shoulder and pointing. "Look-in front!"

  Ahead of them, dropping down toward them, came a flock of harpies, flapping stubby wings furiously to support their bloated vulture bodies. Matt could just make out stringy blonde hair, wasted women's faces, long, pointed noses, and lips twisted in homicidal grins around pointed teeth. They giggled gleefully as they swooped toward Stegoman.

  The dragon stiffened, staring up in horror, and Matt remembered his blasting an owl and shouting about harpies that attacked hatchlings. Once in battle, spouting flame through the skies, Stegoman's drunken mind would hold no thought for the two who rode him.

  There was no time to weigh Freudian theories. Matt began reciting the second of his prepared dragon-curing spells:

  "Canst thou not minister to a mind diseased, Pluck from the memory a rooted sorrow, Raze out the written troubles of the brain And, with some sweet, oblivious antidote, Cleanse the stuff'd bosom of that perilous dread Which weighs upon the heart? Therein the patient Must minister to himself."

  Stegoman came alive to roar out a ten-foot flame. He soared up in a widening spiral, bellowing his rage. The harpies began screeching in fury, trying to beat their way up the sky to their escaping quarry.

  The quarry leveled off, drew a bead on them, and went into a power dive, roaring and flaming. He swept through the flock of harpies, turning his head- from side to side, sweeping the whole flock with flame. They screamed and whirled, trying to escape. But Stegoman made a second pass, catching the stragglers. Then he was sweeping upward again, leaving a flaming mass behind. Wreckage began to fall apart into separate burning fragments, blazing toward the earth.

  "I have done it!" the dragon cried. He reared his head back and began climbing, gouting out fire as he bellowed, "The hatchling killers are dead! I have purged them from the skies!" He reached the top of his climb, blasting and roaring. "Who thinks he can defeat me, let him come against me! He who thinks he can best my breath and claws, let him rise up to try me!"

  He was wildly euphoric-but he didn't slur a syllable.

  Then, a match flared ahead. It swelled to a torch, became a bonfire-and a creature seemed to stir within the blaze. It was long and serpentine, with stubby legs. The flame seemed to draw back into its body, leaving its outline etched in fire, while flamelets danced around its grinning jaws. "Nay," a thunderous voice rolled forth, "what fool is this who thinks to defy the elements that give him life?"

  Sir Guy's steel fingers bit into Matt's shoulder. "What fell beast is this?"

  "A salamander." Matt felt his hair trying to rise. "An elemental of fire. Someone must have summoned it against us."

  "Small and crawling lizard!" the salamander boomed. "Pit your braggart's might against the true master of that element which fills you!

  "Flee!" Matt urged the dragon. "Fly away! You can't fight that thing. Believe me!"

  Stegoman's answer was to jab his head down, flick his tail up, and dive. Matt wrapped his arms around a fin and hung on.

  Stegoman streaked toward the earth at a sixty-degree angle. Behind him, a huge laugh shook the sky, and a streak of fire followed him. The ground shot up, and Matt heard the Black Knight singing a dirge behind him. Then they were slamming to a braking halt over water. Stegoman slewed and rolled over on his side five feet above the surface, bellowing, "Leap!"

  Matt leaped. Water slammed into him and shot up around him. He went under, kicked out in a breast stroke, and broke to the surface just in time to hear the splash as Sir Guy's armor went in. Armor! The knight could never swim in all that weight. Matt dived again as leather wings boomed above him and the dragon shot skyward. Then the water all around turned orange as the salamander dropped down into the space the dragon had just vacated. Matt kicked hard, diving deep, feeling the water grow warm behind him. His hand brushed a metal arm; he seized it, hung on, and began exerting all his efforts to drag the knight with him. Sir Guy helped some-his thrashing was at least directional. Slowly, agonizingly slowly, they moved back toward the surface.

  Matt's feet struck ooze. He sank in up to his ankles-but it was a place to stand, something to push against. He waded through the stuff and realized, with a surge of relief, that he was toiling upward, hauling some three-hundred-odd pounds with him. His back creaked and his arms screamed pain at his shoulders-then his head broke through the water. He sucked in one long, rasping breath as he shoved hard, taking a giant step-and the weight suddenly went off his hands. A moment later, Sir Guy's helmet broke water with an exploding gasp like a whale blowing. Matt dropped the arm, caught at a shoulder, and hoisted the Black Knight upright. "Okay, now?"

  Sir Guy nodded, blowing and sneezing. "I ... let me die, but ... never by water."

  "Me, too ... How's Stegoman doing?" Matt craned his neck back, peering up anxiously.

  The salamander had shrunk to a flaring point of light again, bright against the night's last darkness. Stegoman had disappeared.

  Then a pencil of fire licked out, as the dragon dove at the salamander. His flame hit the beast, and the salamander brightened a little as its huge laughter rumbled through the night. Stegoman's flame winked out; Matt could just barely see him by the salamander's light, shearing off. But the salamander lashed out with its fiery tail, and Stegoman bellowed in pain.

  "Wizard, to your left!" Sir Guy shouted, and Matt turned to see a huge rubbery tentacle swinging down at him. He whipped out his sword and chopped through it in one quick swipe; but two more poised in the air above him.

  "Lord Matthew!" choked a muffled voice, and Matt pivoted to see a tentacle wrapped around Sir Guy's helmet. He leaped forward with an overhand swing; the tip of his sword scored through the, rubbery arm, and it fell loose from the knight; but Matt felt a horrible, slimy coldness wrap itself around his leg, sucking, while a rope slapped itself around his waist. He howled, chopping at his foot, slicing through the tentacle. It loosened, green slime pumping out of it into the river; but the one on his waist yanked him off his feet, dragging him toward deep water. Matt shouted, flailing about him; then the pulling stopped, dumping him unceremoniously into the water as the tentacle fell off, dripping ichor. He looked u
p at, Sir Guy, who stood with his sword at the ready, gasping. A thin green line of slime coated the edge of the blade.

  "Thanks for keeping me around." Matt struggled to his feet with an anxious glance at the sky, just in time to see the pencil of flame dart down at the salamander again. It hit, and the salamander puffed out into a fireball, engulfing the dragon. Matt heard a shriek of pain, then the salamander's booming laughter. "I've gotta help him!"

  "Help yourself!" Sir Guy snapped. "You're afire!"

  Matt looked down, startled, and saw a coal glowing through the fabric of the purse hung from his belt. Hope surged, and he yanked the purse open.

  "Wizard," said the dot of light inside, "your wish is filled: the sorcerer's army ages apace. The youngest of them now is fifty, and still they age."

  "Max!" Matt almost crumbled with relief. "Thank Heaven! Another job for you, quick! Get up there into the sky, and cool that salamander's ardor!"

  "Salamander?" the Demon sang with delight. "Eons has it been since I have seen one. Well did I choose when I began my travels with you!" Max sprang into the air like a skyrocket.

  "'Ware.!" cried Sir Guy, and Matt whirled to chop at a tentacle, then another two, then a fourth. He heard a startled, choking oath and whirled back just in time to see two more ropy arms dragging Sir Guy under. He splashed over to the Black Knight and sliced into the muck. A green stain rose, and Matt leaned down to flail in the water till his hand met steel. He locked his grip around at and leaned back, lugging hard; Sir Guy surged up and out like Neptune, spouting bilge. He shook his head, gasping for breath. "We've bested them ... again..."

  "Yeah, but how about our boy?" Matt looked up just as a startled squawk shredded the night. The salamander had dimmed amazingly, to a pulsing glow. With a joyful roar, the fire-pencil swooped down on it.

  "Flame out!" Matt cried. "Idiot! You're aiding and abetting the enemy!"

  But Stegoman had some good sense; his torch winked out, and Matt could just barely make out his form by waning moonlight as he struck the salamander with teeth and claws.

  He's sober, Matt realized, with a surge of relief. He had to be, for that much thinking.

  Stegoman shot past the salamander, raking long furrows in its side with his natural sabers. The elemental filled the night with its steam-whistle screech, flailing at the dragon with a short, stubby leg, ripping scales loose; then Stegoman was turning, flipping over to gouge a bite of the salamander's hide as he passed. The fire-spirit screamed and darted upward; but Stegoman swooped upward faster and dove down at it again, jaws gaping wide. The elemental boomed its terror and fell like a stone. Stegoman roared triumph and followed, crowding the salamander closely, herding it as it tried to dart to one side, then the other. Too late, the fire-spirit saw the river shooting up at it. It slewed to the side, but Stegoman half folded his wings and plunged down like a hawk, landing with all four feet in the salamander's back, claws out. The beast screamed and twisted free-straight toward the river.

  Then the salamander was poised ten feet overhead, bleeding fire from several gashes and a long rip along in its side. It reared back, clawing at Stegoman, bellowing in agony and horror. The dragon hovered just out of range, taking his time, setting himself; then he shot downward and slammed into the salamander. The fire-beast bounced into the water with a shriek that seemed to fill the earth, a terrible scream that raked along Matt's spine and nerves, paralyzing him.

  Water slammed up against his back. He splashed about, thrashing, trying to get back to the sand bar-especially when he realized the water was heating up. An explosion rocked the river, and the waters glowed lurid orange. Steam seethed and hissed, and the water got downright hot.

  "Stegoman! Get us outa here! Before we're poached!"

  The dragon came, huge wings slamming air down in a gale. "Seize my legs!" he bellowed.

  Matt's foot found muck; he leaned his weight on it, sheathing his sword, then jumped to catch the dragon's ankle. He saw Sir Guy hanging onto another leg as the dragon lifted slowly, laboring against the uneven burden, as the water began to boil. It drifted away under their feet; then dry land was beneath them as Stegoman lowered them gently. Turf hit Matt's feet with a jarring shock; he bent his knees. Sir Guy fell, rolling, with a clank and clatter, and rolled up to his feet, gasping, "'Tis done!"

  "Aye," Stegoman rumbled, settling to earth beside them, folding his wings with a minor thunderclap. "Aye, 'tis done." He turned his head toward Matt, eye still lit with battle-glow. "I have won! None can best me in the skies-or can they?"

  He was definitely sober. He wouldn't doubt his own prowess if he were drunk.

  "Nay, speak and tell me, Wizard!" Stegoman commanded. "How could I best the monster that is the master of my breath?"

  "You had a little assistance," Matt admitted. "I decided it was an unequal battle-and Max happened by just then."

  The Demon hummed by his ear. "The salamander's fire now has cooled, and it is dead. The river boils for a mile."

  "Well, the peasants will eat well in the morning," Matt sighed. "I hate to think of all those dead fish, though."

  "Better them than I," the dragon growled, "or the knight, or thine own self." He turned to the dancing spark. "Demon, I thank and praise thee for weakening mine enemy."

  Matt looked up at Stegoman, studying the dragon intently. "You do think you'll be safe flying now, don't you?"

  Stegoman stilled, his glowing eyes burning into Matt's. Slowly, he nodded. "Aye. I am safe in the skies. Wizard, may good fortune shower on thee for returning me my wings!"

  "I'll settle for a lift. The enemy's behind, for the moment, but I don't think it'll take them long to catch up. Are you ready for another trip?"

  The dragon's wings stirred, but stayed folded. "I am," he said judiciously, "though mayhap I should rest.. ."

  "Yeah, you do have a few burns there." Matt frowned at the long streaks of crimson he saw on the dragon's flanks. "And that salamander had claws."

  Stegoman nodded. "Though he was unskilled in their use."

  Matt fumbled in the purse at his belt, singing under his breath:

  "Let a salve for healing all,

  Even burns of first degree,,

  Be within my beck and call!

  Let this wondrous ointment be

  Of an instant-healing brand,

  Here, within my groping hand!"

  a stumbling thing; but now I am what a dragon should be. Lasting fealty do I swear to thee! As long as I live, I shall serve thee and thine heirs."

  "I ... uh... " Matt untied a quick knot in his tongue. " I ... accept. With great and humble thanks, I assure you."

  "Now to your rest, Wizard," Sir Guy said. "And I to mine; for I think that most of the blows I will bear for your sake will fall on us in a very few days."

  Stegoman turned away, spreading his wings, and rose into the sky. His call floated back: "When thou dost call, I will come. Sleep well."

  Matt gazed after him, blinking, trying to remember what he was supposed to do now. Sir Guy took his arm again, turning him away toward the hillside. "Come, then. We must find haven."

  CHAPTER 16

  Sir Guy pulled a strip of cloth out of his wallet and bound it around Matt's eyes.

  Why the charade? As far as Matt could tell, they were just headed back toward the hillside.

  Then something brushed his face, all of his face-and all of his body, too. For a few seconds, he felt as if he were wading through molasses that went clear over his head. Then he stepped past it into damp, cool air and stumbled, nearly falling. Sir Guy held him up and whisked off the blindfold. Matt stood inside a small cave, the roof a few feet over his head. It was filled with early morning sunlight. Ten feet ahead, the rock wall made a sharp turn.

  "'Tis a hidden place," Sir Guy explained. "Come, now; I will show you your bed."

  "Uhhh ... just a second." Matt held up a hand, weaving with exhaustion. "I've gotten to be a bug on security lately ... Max!"

  "Aye, Wizard." The Demon hovered
before him, lighting up the inside of the cave. Sir Guy took a half step away.

  Matt looked around him, blinking out beyond the cave mouth to the sun-filled valley. Something was wrong there. He frowned, thinking it through, then turned to Sir Guy. "Hey! If this place is so secret I had to wear a blindfold, how come I can see the outside like a picture-window view?"

  "Did you see it ere we came into it?"

  "Well ... no..."

  "Nor will any." The Black Knight smiled faintly. "We need no guard for our portal, Lord Wizard. No sorcerer can find this cave. If any, should stumble upon it, he would see only a hillside; and if, by great misfortune, he should stumble through what seems to be a grassy, boulder-strewn slope to the place where we stand, he would be blinded or dead."

  Matt was suddenly fully awake again. "But how, then ... Sir Guy, I'm still alive. And I can see."

  The Black Knight nodded gravely. "You are my guest, Lord Matthew. No power in this cavern will harm you."

  Matt knew he should be grateful; but he was only numb-and getting number as the reassurance lulled his body, letting the adrenaline ebb and the drowsiness return tenfold. There was another question somewhere there that Sir Guy's answer had raised, but he couldn't quite phrase it; and there was some huge, hidden significance to what the Black Knight had just told him about the cave being hidden, but Matt couldn't think what it was.

  He turned back to the Demon. "Just to reassure me, Max. Guard the door."

  "'Tis a function with which I've some experience," the Demon hummed. "To your rest, Wizard."

  He winked out of visibility, but Matt knew he would stay by the cave mouth, and woe betide the citizen who tried to pass him. He turned back to Sir Guy. "Okay. Where's the bunkhouse?"

  The Black Knight turned away, going into the turn at the end of the cave. Matt followed him-and found himself in what seemed impenetrable darkness, after the glare of daylight. But there was some faint glow from the front. They came out of the tunnel into light-and Matt stood still, staring about him in wonder.