"That's fine with us," Oskar replied amiably. "We have a question or two for him as well."
The dragoons' base consisted of a cluster of tents and small wooden buildings surrounded by a stockade of flexible red trunks and branches that had been interwoven together horizontally as well as vertically to form a strong, impenetrable barricade. It was the first wall Oskar had ever seen that looked as if it had been braided rather than built. From its location atop a sloping but dominant hill, the post commanded a fine view over the surrounding countryside, including the wide, slow-flowing river that ran from north to south on its western flank. As well as sky and clouds, the flora on the far side of the river had a distinctly orange cast.
Dragoons busy with washing, or maneuvers, or drilling paused in their tasks to observe the escorted newcomers' arrival. Particular attention was paid to Samm, since it is natural for soldiers everywhere to instinctively size up the most formidable of any potential opponent. The giant's imposing stone axe garnered murmurs of admiration.
The travelers were not troubled when the stockade gate was shut behind them. Having committed no offense, they had nothing to fear. They were here to answer questions, and to ask one or two of their own.
Their escorts disappeared into a single-story stone structure. Water was provided to the waiting guests. Within moments a trio of officers emerged, resplendent with polish, paint, and attitude. Only one was human. A second had the wide, flat face so typical of the city dwellers the travelers had encountered in Pyackill. He also boasted a long, naked, rat-like tail that emerged from the seat of his trousers, and two finger-thick whiplike antennae that protruded from his forehead. His companion was barely three feet tall, with a face like a carp and an inability to stand still.
As for the post commandant, Captain Covalt, he was of moderate height and dark of skin, with a bald head and two furry ears that thrust upward from either side of his skull. His jaw line flaunted an unfortunate natural downward curve that afflicted him with a permanent frown, and he had no visible nose. A wide mouth overfilled with small whitish teeth completed the countenance, which despite its somewhat forbidding features was not overtly malicious.
"So, you claim to come from west of the kingdom, and by means sorceral?" Though he spoke to Oskar, his gaze was fastened on Cocoa.
"We entered into this realm from a land where no one color is dominant," Oskar replied. "I know that may be difficult for you to accept, but—"
"It is not difficult to accept: it is impossible to accept. AH kingdoms are cloaked in a preclusive dominant color. That is the way the world was made. As well as being a soldier, I am also something of a scholar of such arcana. Call it a hobby, with which I try to while away the long lonely hours in isolated outposts such as this." Approaching Cocoa, he smiled a dentist's dream, took her hand, and kissed it. Given the width of his jaws, he could just as easily have swallowed it. "And what might your name be, my dear?"
"Cocoa." She tried not to show the revulsion she was feeling. This was not due so much to his hybrid appearance, so different from anything they had yet encountered, as to his smelling strongly of onions despite the fact that there was nothing in the least tuberous in his mien.
"A lovely name for a lovely lady. I request the honor of sitting next to you at dinner tonight." He struggled to smile, wrestling with the natural arc of his lips. "You will be our guests, of course."
"That's very kind of you," she replied courteously, "but we're in something of a hurry."
"Such a pity." She finally managed to free her hand. His touch was greasy. "Tell me: what compels you to flee the dragoons' hospitality so precipitously?"
"White light." Without openly jostling the captain, Oskar did his best to worm his way between him and the patently uncomfortable Cocoa. "We have to find some, and take it back with us to our country."
"White light? As an educated person I know of the existence of many colors, but not white." Turning, the captain gestured in the direction of the river. "Certainly there is none such to be had in the Kingdom of Red, but I have heard tales—old people's fancies, travelers' stories—of the many wonders that lie far to the east. The Kingdom of Purple especially is rumored to contain many marvels. I was once told, by a venerable and experienced traveler, of a temple there that contains within its walls examples of everything that is, or ever was, or that can be imagined. If your white light is to be found anywhere within the kingdoms, I would think that would be the place. You will assuredly not find it in the Kingdom of Orange that lies just across the river, which we know well."
"We'll cross whatever lands we must," Mamakitty informed him. "We can't go home without it."
Furry ears twitched as the captain bobbed his head. "I'm sure your quest is a noble one, though for the life of me I can't imagine why anyone would need to acquire such a mysterious intangibility." Reaching out, he took Cocoa's hand before she could avoid his grasp. "You have no travel documents. A fact I am willing to overlook."
"That's real neighborly of you." Oskar noticed that a number of the dragoons in their immediate vicinity had stopped laboring at their daily tasks and were slowly picking up their weapons. A new scent was in the air, and it was not onions. "We'll be going now."
"By all means," agreed the captain. "Take your leave. However, in the absence of documents I am afraid the kingdom demands security of another kind. One of you must remain behind to guarantee the good conduct of the others." His grip on Cocoa's wrist tightening, he nodded at her and grinned alarmingly. "This one. She will not be harmed, and will be treated as an honored guest until you return."
"We can't do that." Mamakitty stepped forward. "You see, we're kind of used to each other's company. Also, we believe that it's important to the success of our quest that we stay together. We pose no threat to the Kingdom of Red, or any other kingdom."
There was no mistaking the intent of the circle of dragoons, who, though incompletely attired and out of formation, were now closing an armed circle around the travelers. As unobtrusively as possible, Oskar let his right hand fall toward his sword. Samm made a show of unlimbering his great axe, while Taj gripped one of the rather insignificant-looking knives with which he had been outfitted.
Disdaining any further diplomacy, Cezer pushed his way forward, sword already drawn, eyes ablaze, teeth bared. "Take your hands off her, sir! It is no gentleman who designs to hold a lady against her will."
"Well and stupidly spoken." Releasing Cocoa's wrist, Captain Covalt slowly drew his own blade. "Obviously, you are unaware of my reputation as a swordsman."
"And you are unaware of mine!" Relaxing into a fighting stance, Cezer prepared to defend Cocoa's honor, ignoring the fact that she had drawn her own sword.
"You have no reputation," Mamakitty hissed at him.
"I will in a few moments—I hope," the would-be cavalier responded tightly.
Slowly shaking his head, Captain Covalt removed his splendidly embroidered jacket and handed it to one of his attaches. He was solidly built; his would not be an easy defense to penetrate. Oskar tried to conceal his concern. Though enthusiastic and energetic enough, Cezer had no formal training in swordsmanship, whereas the captain was an experienced soldier.
"Let me handle this." Axe in hand, Samm took a giant step forward. Instantly dragoons surrounded him, raising and aiming a lethal assortment of arrows, bolts, and spears—any weapon that could be employed from a safe distance.
"Keep out of it, Samm." Describing small circles in the air with the point of his sword, Cezer was prancing threateningly before the captain. "I picked this fight, and I'll finish it."
Covalt nodded once, curtly. "Indeed you will, my friend. I can see that you are extraordinarily quick of hand and foot, with much natural talent. I can also see that you are inexperienced in the arts of war. Though I could cut you to pieces, I won't let you suffer. Your death will be a quick one."
Oskar stepped forward. "Look, isn't there some way we can settle this with further discussion?"
"The time for words is past." Sword fully extended, Covalt widened his stance. "Don't worry—once this one is disposed of and the girl comfortably situated here, there will still be plenty of you left to carry out your quest." Turning his attention back to his opponent, he uttered what might have been a formal challenge—or a local imprecation.
With a wild yowl, Cezer charged. His thrusting sword was parried with such subtlety that Oskar could not be certain he had seen the captain's blade move. Its point caught Cezer in the left buttock as he rushed past the dragoon, pricking him and bringing blood.
"This is too easy." Bouncing lightly on short legs and feet that Oskar noticed for the first time were slightly webbed, Covalt awaited his opponent's next rush. "I am a soldier, not an assassin of children."
"No: you're a polite would-be rapist—would-be, say I!" Cezer charged again.
This time the captain stood his ground, parrying every swipe and strike Cezer could muster. Eventually bored, Covalt struck back, his sword jabbing at his opponent's exposed chest. Fortunately, the sword point was diverted by a silver pillbox residing in Cezer's breast pocket. The force of the thrust alone, however, was enough to send him stumbling backward. Covalt followed, pressing the attack relentlessly.
"He's going to kill him!" Taj stuttered. "Somebody do something!" His gaze turned up and back. "Samm, you have to stop this!"
The giant's teeth were clenched. "He said not to interfere."
"But you have to!" As Taj fingered the knife he held, he saw several soldiers staring hard in his direction, their own weapons upraised, ready to block any attempt to intervene in the duel. Constrained like his companions, Taj could only stand by and watch.
The remorseless Covalt continued to force Cezer steadily backward. Although his companion's efforts with the sword steadily improved as the fight continued, Oskar saw that his friend remained desperately overmatched against the skilled officer. The dog-man's eyes darted from side to side. No matter the consequences, he knew that he was going to have to intercede. As an upshot they might all die, but despite the surface acrimony that existed between them, he knew he could not let Cezer be killed without at least attempting to save him. They shared too many memories from the times they had slept curled up against one another as puppy and kitten.
Whirling, the embattled Cezer leaped onto a wagon. Covalt followed more slowly, admiring his opponent's gymnastic ability if not his swordsmanship. Now there was nowhere else for Cezer to retreat. The sheer wall of the stockade was at his back. Sweating profusely, muscles trembling, he let out a yowl of anger at the situation circumstances had forced him into.
"Master Evyndd, is this what you intended!"
"I don't know this 'Master Evyndd.'" Sword darting smoothly from side to side like a patrolling dragonfly, Captain Covalt was preparing to climb up into the wagon after his adversary. "But he can't help you. Not now." Choosing his route, he thrust upward with his weapon.
Though still too far away to make contact with the other's blade, Cezer made desperate, wild parrying motions. And then, quite unexpectedly, their blades did make contact. But only because Cezer's weapon had suddenly doubled in length. Impossibly, it felt no heavier, though there was clearly twice as much steel protruding from the pommel as a moment before.
It was enough to make Covalt blink. The captain hesitated only briefly, however, before striking again. In response, his opponent's engorged weapon seemed to take on a life of its own, as though drawing strength from some cat part of its holder usually employed in entirely different campaigns of conquest. As he wielded the taut, shining blade that was now some six feet long yet lighter than ever, an entirely new and fresh expression came over Cezer's face.
Anticipation.
Stabbing and swinging, it was his turn to press the attack. Unable to slip in a thrust beneath so active and extended a blade, Covalt was forced to give ground. As he did so, the preternaturally elongated sword began to swing faster and faster, until it was generating an audible hum that could be heard everywhere within the Red Dragoons' post. How he was doing this Cezer did not know, although every swing of the weapon seemed to be propelled by his whole body. Not being of as serious a questioning mind as Oskar or Mamakitty, he was content simply to make use of the fortuitous phenomenon and worry about explanations later.
Seeing their superior hard-pressed, both of Covalt's aides abruptly rushed to his aid, as did a pair of foot soldiers standing nearby. Their intercession was of no consequence. With the six-foot-long blade humming to itself like a gigantic wasp, Cezer forced them all back while clearing a circle around himself and his companions.
"How are you doing this?" Oskar shouted as they began to edge toward the stockade gate.
"How should I know?" Cezer continued to swing and thrust with zest, enjoying the look of confusion on the faces of their opponents, and the one of frustrated fury on that of the captain. When a couple of soldiers let arrows loose at the retreating visitors, the magically augmented sword parried them with ease. Thus redirected, one such shaft pierced the leg of another soldier, with the consequence that no more projectiles were forthcoming from the assembled, flustered troopers.
"Isn't your arm getting tired?" Sword in hand, Cocoa had her own potential opponents to worry about.
"Not yet," he yelled back at her. "It's as if an entirely different part of myself is holding it up."
"Through the wonder of the Master's magic we have been given human form." Mamakitty lunged sharply forward, driving back a would-be assailant. "Perhaps we have been given other things as well."
Then why is my sword still of normal length, and my legs already aching? Oskar wondered silently. Did it mean that there was something inherent in Cezer that made him a better swordsman? No matter. He was more than content to retreat under cover of his companion's proprietary enchantment.
By this time, word of what was happening had spread throughout the entire contingent of dragoons. In various stages of uniform and dress, putting aside their daily tasks, they took up arms and trailed the travelers down to the river's edge, waiting for the moment when their bewitched opponents should tire. Several of the uninformed newcomers tried to bring Cezer down from a distance with arrows or spears. His mysteriously elongated and accelerated sword blurring the air like a hummingbird's wing, Cezer once more parried these threats from long range as effortlessly as he did the soldiers' continuing futile sword thrusts.
There were half a dozen boats tied up at the river's edge.
One by one, the travelers clambered aboard the nearest. While the miraculously invigorated Cezer held off the entire contingent of dragoons, Samm slipped into the water and pulled the boat off the sandbar on which it was resting, giving it a hearty shove downstream before climbing over the dangerously declining stern to rejoin his companions.
Her own weapon still held at the ready, Mamakitty frowned as the current caught them and they began to pick up speed. "They're not following. As angry as Cezer has made them, I thought surely they would follow. They have the boats to do it."
Oskar gazed back at the shore, which was now lined with gesticulating, jeering dragoons. "It seems they'd rather taunt us."
"Let them taunt all they wish." Emotionally exhausted, Taj lay slumped against a railing. "Easier to parry insults than steel."
Safely away, Cocoa sheathed her own weapon and strode forward. Seeing her approach, Cezer moved automatically to put up his sword. Had he paused to think about it he might not have initiated the gesture, for a six-foot sword would not easily slip into a scabbard designed for one half that size. But as it was turned toward its home, it began to shrink. Oskar blinked, but the phenomenon could not be denied. By the time it had swung around far enough to be scabbarded, the weapon had contracted back to its original length.
"How did you do that?" Cocoa indicated the now sheathed blade.
Cezer shrugged, then grinned. "I have no idea. Some postmortem trick of Master Evyndd's, I should assume. I wonder what other posthumous surprises may await.
" He straightened, making himself as tall as possible. "I'm quite exhausted from the episode, but the swordsmanship was all mine. No magic in that. After doing battle all my life with two handfuls of smaller versions, it seems to come naturally to me." Holding up a hand, he made a face at the blunt human nails that tipped his fingers. "Miss my naturals, I do."
"Well, mssst, thank you, Cezer." She shuddered visibly. "The mere thought of being held as a 'guest' by that loathsome creature is enough to curdle milk."
"My weapon will always be at your disposal, ready to extend itself to extraordinary lengths at a moment's stimulus." He smiled enigmatically. Trying to read his expression, she considered how to react to this promise, finally deciding to ignore it. Turning, she settled onto a bench to watch the shoreline slip past.
"You know," Oskar mused to Mamakitty as the two sat watching the shore, "keeping in mind what we have learned of the customs of this land, perhaps that soldier was only trying to be very polite."
The woman seated next to him considered. "You could very well be right, Oskar. I didn't think of that. This is a difficult place in which to try and read someone's intentions. Tell me: did you smell the threat in him?"
The dog-man shook his head (that, at least, being a gesture with which he was long familiar). "No, I didn't. There was something else. I think maybe he was coming into heat. And then there was the anger, when Cezer challenged him. Could we have so badly misread his intentions?"
She shrugged. "It doesn't matter. Cocoa wasn't going to stay with him, and we certainly weren't going to leave her behind. I'll be glad if and when we enter country where people touch noses, rub up against one another, and engage in mutual grooming as a way of showing friendship."
Oskar sighed. "You cats are always so touchy-feely."
From near the stern, Cezer had to comment. "More polite than smelling a new acquaintance's butt."
Taj turned toward the river. "You disgust me, the lot of you." Samm had no comment. Snakes usually didn't.
Kingdoms of Light Page 14
