A Bad Spell in Yurt woy-1

by C. Dale Brittain

  “I’ve just got one present today, for an especially good little girl,” I said, in my best jolly tone. “Let’s see, there’s a tag on this present, it will tell you who’s the lucky girl!”

  I made a major production of reaching into my sack and slowly pulling out a large box wrapped in red. “Let me see,” reading the tag, “I think this says the present is for, let me be sure here, for someone named Maria. Is there a very good girl named Maria here today?”

  She laughed with delight, as I knew she would, and came forward for the box. I let the white bushy beard fade back to my own beard as we watched her open it.

  Inside the first box, which she opened with giggles of anticipation, was, not the present she was expecting, but another box, this one wrapped in green. Inside the second box was a much smaller one, this one golden. But inside the third box was the present.

  She drew it out slowly, unfolding it to gasps of appreciation from the other ladies. It was a white silk shawl, printed with irises, which I had had packed up from the City earlier in the week. It was big enough to drape over her entire upper body, but delicate enough to be folded into a bundle smaller than her hand.

  She put it over her shoulders at once. “Thank you, Father Noel! This is the nicest present this good little girl has ever gotten!”

  With general laughter and more joking, people now stood up to go outside, to catch a little fresh air and try to find some sort of appetite for the noon dinner that the cook was already preparing. I hurried back to my chambers to take off the pullover and put on my new blue velvet suit. It fit perfectly. As I turned in front of the mirror, I thought that even if I didn’t look mysterious in it, at least I looked dignified.

  Back in the courtyard, several of the ladies had begun singing Christmas carols in three-part harmony. It would have been more effective if one of the knights hadn’t been teasing them, which made them keep stopping, laughing, and losing their place, but the sound of their high, light voices in the frosty air was very pleasant. As I leaned on the parapet, high above the courtyard, looking out across the snowy hills of the western kingdoms, I thought this was a morning of perfect peace.

  A gloved hand closed over mine on the railing, and I discovered the duchess beside me. I had not seen her come up. “Merry Christmas,” she said. “I’d been thinking I ought to have a special present for you this morning, but after you gave that shawl to the Lady Maria I realized I’d be wasting my time.”

  She was teasing me, of course. “Oh, I can love any number of different ladies at the same time,” I said airily, gesturing with my free hand. “After all-”

  Her grip tightened, but I realized she was not listening to me. “Look, over there. What’s that?” she said in an entirely different voice.

  I looked. Beyond the forest, high above the hills, a dark cloud was coming rapidly toward us out of the north. But it was flying too low and moving too fast to be a cloud. For a moment I wondered if it might be the air cart, bringing someone to visit from the wizards’ school, even though it was coming from the wrong direction. But as it approached, I realized it was much too big to be the air cart.

  It was a dragon.

  The duchess and I were not the only ones up walking on the parapet, and several other people had seen it too. One lady screamed, but several other people looked toward me questioningly, and one even laughed a little. They thought it might be another illusion.

  This was, unfortunately, no illusion, but a real dragon. “Get down!” I yelled. “Get inside!” I grabbed the duchess in my arms and leaped off the edge of the walkway, flying us down and landing in the courtyard with hardly a bump. “Don’t let it catch you outdoors!”

  Although for a second I was afraid that blind panic would replace complacency, as all the ladies began screaming at once, I did manage to get them herded into the center of the hall. “Keep them calm,” I told the duchess. “I’ve got to try to stop it.”

  I ran back to the high door out into the courtyard. The dragon had arrived.

  It flew to the castle with extreme purposefulness, but now that it was here it seemed to be contemplating its next move with leisurely interest. It was perched on the top of the north tower, looking around with apparent curiosity. Then it looked down at me like a cat observing a mouse. It was too big to fit in the windows or even the door, but if it had wished it could easily reach in a clawed foot to grab us. I was almost gratified to see that it quite closely resembled the illusory dragon I had created last month, down to the emerald scales, even though mine had had six legs and this one four. But the red eyes did not glow with magic: rather, with active intelligence.

  What was I going to do with a dragon? My mind seemed incapable of thought. For a moment the dragon and I locked glances, then it shot out a thin tongue of flame from its nostrils, and I had to jump back.

  I found Joachim at my elbow. He had his crucifix before him and a grim expression on his face. “Don’t go out,” I said. “It’s not evil; it’s just a dragon.”

  “But it could kill us all!”

  “Of course it could, and it probably will. It’s doubtless very hungry after flying for thousands of miles, down from the northern land of magic. In a few minutes it may decide to start dismantling the castle with its claws. But it’s still not evil incarnate, just the wild forces of natural magic, unchecked by any wizardry.”

  If Joachim was startled to hear this calm, academic statement he gave no sign. I was fairly startled myself to discover that my mind was compensating for a lack of good ideas by the repetition of a phrase from a half-forgotten lecture.

  But why was there a dragon in Yurt? The dragons never, or almost never, left the northernmost land of wild magic. I caught a glimpse of the old wizard from the corner of my eye and remembered him saying that he thought that too many wizards practicing magic had worn the channels of magic so smooth that anything might come slipping in.

  But surely my own magic was rough enough not to invite a dragon! The wizard at any rate did not say, “I told you so.” He stood next to the chaplain and me, while we looked out at the dragon and it looked at us, and both sides tried to think what to do next. Until such time as it decided to start ripping the walls down, we were fairly safe, because I did not think it could reach all the way to the center of the great hall, in spite of its size.

  The dragon was truly enormous. Its feet were planted on top of the north tower, its long scaly neck stretched far across the courtyard, and its spiny tail hung nearly to the ground. Its red eyes darted to and fro, and its wide mouth lolled open, revealing hundreds of teeth and a long forked tongue. It seemed to be wondering which ones of us to eat first.

  The old wizard attacked. Suddenly, zipping around the dragon’s head, there were a cloud of red bubbles, which darted, touched him, and sprang away again. But if this was intended to distract the dragon or even drive him away, it was ineffective. Clinging to the doorpost, thinking this had to be a bad dream and that Gwen would wake me soon, I watched as the dragon batted the bubbles of illusion away with one clawed foot and looked down at us with growing irritation.

  There was a commotion behind us, and then Dominic and the duchess pushed past us, leading a group of knights. They were all armed with swords, spears, and shields, and several carried bows. Dominic may have bolted in terror from my illusory dragon, but he seemed to have no hesitation in facing a real one. I was ashamed that he, at least, seemed to have an excellent idea what to do.

  With a roar from Dominic, the small war party charged. They ran up the stairs toward the parapet, trying to get closer, and the first archers set off a flurry of arrows.

  But these bounced harmlessly from the emerald scales. The dragon turned sharply around, and as its tail swung it ripped roof slates loose. The knights and the duchess had their shields up just in time to protect themselves from a roaring burst of flame. As the dragon readied itself for another breath, they lowered the shields for a second and threw their spears.

  Most of the spears bounced off
as harmlessly as the arrows had done, but one lodged for a second in the dragon’s throat. It reared back, clawing at the spear until it fell, but where it had pierced the skin was a tiny drop of black blood.

  “The dragon’s throat,” said the old wizard in my ear. “It’s the one vulnerable point on its body.”

  But the knights did not have a chance to try throwing their spears again. The dragon leaped at them, beating its scaled wings, and with a swipe of a claw had knocked several into the courtyard, where they landed with metallic crashes. Then the dragon sprang upwards and circled over the castle, its head back, roaring in pain. In the few seconds before it returned, we ran out into the courtyard, helped the knights gather up their companions, and dragged them into the relative safety of the hall.

  All of them were scorched, and several were badly wounded. Dominic, who had been knocked off the wall, seemed to have several broken ribs. He was the worst, but all had suffered in one way or another. The duchess was not directly wounded, but all her hair, where it protruded from her helmet, had been burned off.

  The dragon returned to the top of the north tower, where it lashed its tail and looked down at us with real fury. I glanced over my shoulder. The chaplain was helping deal with the wounded. Most of the women in the castle were clinging together in the center of the hall, all with white faces and many sobbing uncontrollably. The king and queen, their hands linked, were embracing as many as they could reach, ladies and servants alike, and trying to talk soothingly.

  I was shocked to see a dancing pair of blue eyes among the stricken faces. The Lady Maria, with rapt attention, was thoroughly enjoying the dragon.

  The duchess was exchanging her shield for another, less scorched, and picking up a spear as though planning to go out again. “Stay here,” I told her. “You can’t stop it with force.” My slow mind had at last given me an idea.

  I started to make myself invisible. I started with the feet, pronouncing the heavy syllables of the Hidden Language as quickly as I could. The feet disappeared, then the knees, then the thighs, and I was further than I had ever before gone with this spell. But at the waist I became stuck. The top half of my body remained obstinately visible.

  “Cover me with illusion,” I told the old wizard. “I’ve got to get close enough to the dragon’s throat to try to pierce it.” The duchess, realizing what I was doing, handed me her spear. Fortunately, I was able to make the spear itself invisible without difficulty, while still maintaining the invisibility spell on my lower body.

  “All right,” said the old wizard. “Go!” I stepped on invisible legs into the courtyard and launched myself into the air.

  I looked down at my upper torso. The old wizard had made me into a particularly ugly bird, clearly too small to be a person, and, I hoped, too unappetizing for the dragon to eat at once.

  The dragon was scratching with whimpers of pain at its throat. When it saw me, it lowered its claw and opened its mouth. I darted upwards as a tongue of fire shot under me. But, uninterested, the dragon returned at once to scratching. I considered chirping to give my birdlike form an air of verisimilitude but decided not to stretch my luck.

  I circled delicately, trying to find a good angle for a spear thrust. I couldn’t see the spear but I could feel it, gripped tight in my sweaty palms, and I hoped I had the point forward. Twice the dragon reached up to bat me away, and twice I had to duck as deadly razor-sharp claws passed within an inch of my invisible legs.

  And then my chance came. Its head back, the dragon was roaring again, and I flew as fast as I could straight toward it, and thrust the spear with all my strength toward the base of the throat.

  But just as I thought I had it, the dragon twisted its neck, and the spear, clanging uselessly against the heavy scales, was jerked from my hands.

  I dropped to the ground outside the wall, waiting for the dragon to come after me. Maybe at least I could lure it away from the castle. But I knew it could fly far faster than I could.

  But it did not pursue me. It sounded instead as though it had decided to start taking the roof off the great hall.

  I flew back up in time to see the chimney topple. The screams from within seemed to excite the dragon. But as it saw me its scarlet nostrils flared, and again I was nearly burnt to cinders.

  Then all around the dragon was a new cloud of red balls, bigger than before, swirling, popping, ducking and weaving. I dropped into the courtyard to pick up an abandoned spear and realized that I too had become an illusory red ball.

  With my new spear newly invisible, I rose into the cloud of balls. Furiously angry, the dragon clawed at the balls and roasted them with fire, but both his talons and his breath passed harmlessly through them. Camouflaged among them, ready to dart up or down, I waited for my opportunity.

  When it came I almost missed it. Half obscured by the red balls, the dragon’s throat appeared before me, the tiny wound in the center and all the scratches around it oozing black blood. Too close for a rapid approach and not daring to back up, I swung my feet up against the beast’s neck and plunged the spear with all the force in my body into the space between them.

  And the spear went home. A geyser of burning dragon blood covered me, blinded me, so that I was barely able to keep on flying. The roar of the dragon above me could have been my own scream. The tail in its writhing caught me, whirled me far out beyond the castle walls, so that my invisibility spell was knocked completely from my mind, and if I hadn’t been able to free one eye in time to see the ground coming up toward me, the flying spell might have failed me as well.

  I dropped gently to earth, looking back toward the castle. The dragon was in its death throes, still spurting blood. It managed to pull out the spear, but too late, for it had penetrated its heart. Pieces of the castle went flying as it rolled in agony. Then, with a final roar, it slumped lifeless over the wall.

  I took a deep breath and gathered up some snow to scrub my face. My hands were rubbed raw, all my ribs ached, and I had some lacerations and bruises, but other than that I thought I was unwounded. But my new Christmas suit was completely ruined by dragon’s blood.

  II

  I walked back slowly toward the castle. It was incredible to me that only the evening before, after turning the young count into a frog, I had imagined myself a competent wizard. This was my worst failure ever. I had never before managed to destroy half a castle.

  One would have expected, I thought, that a royal wizard would be able to deal with a product of wild magic without coming as close to getting himself and everyone else killed as I had done. For all I knew, there was a simple spell against dragons, taught in one of the lectures I had missed. I would certainly have to apologize abjectly to the king and queen. As I reached the castle and crossed the drawbridge, I wondered if I would have to resign as well.

  I was highly startled when, as I stepped into the courtyard, the queen threw herself into my arms, heedless of the dragon’s blood, and began showering me with kisses. I would have been able to respond more enthusiastically if I had not been so surprised.

  In a few seconds she pulled herself away. “Oh, excuse me, I don’t want to seem forward, but I’m so grateful! You’re our hero! You saved Yurt!” Maybe, I thought, I would not have to resign after all.

  The rest of the people in the castle who could still walk were mobbed around me, laughing and jumping to get a better look at me. “Our hero! The savior of Yurt! He killed the dragon!”

  “Well, yes, but it took me an awful long time to do it!” I protested. “Don’t thank someone who almost let the castle be destroyed! The old wizard is the real hero.”

  They pulled the old wizard forward. “What are you talking about?” he said irritably. “Don’t go putting your blame on me!”

  “But you’re the hero,” I said. “You’re the one who distracted the dragon long enough so that I could spear him! I never could have gotten close enough without your illusions.”

  “Took you long enough to do the business, too,” he grunt
ed, which was actually my assessment as well.

  The king was checking the outer walls, but most of us went into the hall, where several of the wounded were already bandaged. Dominic was groaning steadily. “I wonder if the pigeons are still alive and flying, so that we could send for the doctor,” said the constable, and hurried off to the south tower to see.

  The hall had escaped much better than I had feared. The chimney had collapsed into the fireplace, and several of the windows were broken, but I was pleased to see that the Christmas tree was untouched.

  “Well, I guess we’ll just all have to squeeze into the kitchens for Christmas dinner!” said the queen.

  “It’s going to be hours late,” said the cook.

  “I must say,” said the young count, who had not said anything since the dragon first appeared, “that I think this affair was all handled very sloppily. Castles should have established procedures to deal with emergencies.” But no one paid him any attention-though I thought I heard one of the stable boys make a sound like a bullfrog just before he dissolved into hysterical giggles.

  The queen stayed by my side. I was beginning to wish I had paid more attention while she was kissing me, but she showed no signs of starting again. “I’m afraid you’ve gotten dragon’s blood on your dress,” I said, as a hint that I had noticed how close she had been, only moments before. “And I feel terrible about my velvet suit, just after you and the king gave it to me.”

  She smiled. “I don’t mind about my dress.” I wondered if this was because it was the dress that was the same color as the duchess’s dress. “We’ll order you a new suit at once. I can see we’ll have to order quite a few things in the next few days. Do you want midnight blue again, or would you prefer a different color?’

  “One just like this would be exactly right.”