Xone of Contention

by Anthony, Piers

  The BBB help arrived. The car had to be towed; it refused to respond to the mechanic. This was an interesting process whereby the truck connected to the car and hauled it along by its nose.

  They waited while the repairs were made at the garage. There was a place to eat nearby, called a diner, so they went there. “This has delayed things several hours,” Dug said. “But with the car going again, what’s to stop us from just driving home?”

  “And waiting for the Baldwins to arrive?” Kim added.

  Nimby merely smiled.

  “Then what about going to a local library and lumbering on, going to the O-Xone, and exchanging back from here?” Dug said.

  Chlorine knew the answer to that. “The others have to be there to make the exchange. If we go there, and Edsel and Pia aren’t there, it will be for nothing, and Dearth will make sure we can’t go there again later. We have to go at an appointed check-in time.”

  “But we’ve been checking in different times,” Kim said. “So have they, evidently. So—”

  “Breanna had an Ear,” Chlorine said. “That’s what you would call a field unit, for spot communication only. They could have been anywhere in Xanth. But now they must report physically to Com Passion’s cave, to enter the ambiance of the O-Xone. Xanth is more limited in this respect than in Mundania. We trust they are on their way, and will remain there until we connect.”

  “So it’s better late than early,” Kim said, comprehending. “Because chances are there will be only one chance; after that Dearth will catch on and interfere.”

  “Exactly.”

  Dug nodded. “So between times, we might as well travel, so as to get more convenient access.”

  “And get the magic,” Kim said.

  As they left the diner, it was as if night were falling, though it was only mid afternoon. Clouds loomed high and broad, moving to cut off what remained of the sky. A considerable storm was forming.

  “And we couldn’t get moving to escape it before it formed, because of the time it takes to fix a washed out car,” Dug said, understanding. “Dearth knows what he’s doing.”

  “I’ve never seen such a dangerous looking storm-cloud,” Kim said, awed.

  Nimby touched Chlorine’s arm. “Nimby wants you to know that if you leave now, while we remain here, the storm will not follow you. You can escape what is apt to be exceedingly ugly weather.”

  Dug and Kim spoke together: “No.”

  “Spoken like true Companions,” Chlorine said. “But you will pay a price.”

  “Let’s get moving now,” Dug said. “But maybe you’d better park the Lemon and ride in the car with us. It’ll be safer.”

  Nimby shook his head. “We’ll ride it back,” Chlorine said. “You told us how Edsel values it. We must return it to him in good condition.”

  Dug looked again at the brooding cloud. “You do have a point, but this could be dangerous. We could have it garaged here, to keep it safe. Cars are safer in storms.”

  But Nimby would not yield. Chlorine knew that he had his own reasons, perhaps beyond her understanding, but surely valid.

  The Neptune was ready. “It’s amazing how much damage a single storm can do, sometimes,” the mechanic said.

  “Well, it’s not a new car,” Dug said.

  “This was independent of age. This car has been well cared for, but somehow the wiring—I’ve never seen this particular failure before. It’s a fluke.”

  “Just so long as it won’t happen again.”

  “Guaranteed. It’s better than new now.”

  Dug and Kim did what they had to, to settle the cost of the repair; they had something called insurance that made it easier. Then they drove the car out of the repair shop.

  Nimby and Chlorine climbed on the motorcycle and joined them. “Maybe Pia should ride in the car,” Kim called. “It’s going to be wet on the Lemon.”

  “No, I’ll stay with Ed,” Chlorine called back.

  The storm looked worse than ever. It frightened Chlorine, but she clung to Nimby. She was not going to let him face it alone.

  The Neptune turned south and followed the highway out of town. Most of the traffic was streaming the other way, into town, as Mundanes caught on that the weather was truly threatening. They were doing the sensible thing and heading for cover.

  A gust of wind caught them. The cycle veered, then corrected course. Nimby had progressed from beginner to full competence at a rapid rate, and now could handle it very well. But she wondered why he had chosen to ride the Lemon, when he could have ridden in the safer car. Was it to spare the Companions some risk? She suspected not; there must be some way in which the motorcycle enhanced his own chances.

  Lightning cracked close by, and thunder boomed out from it. Chlorine remembered Cumulo Fracto Nimbus, once the worst of clouds, and the show he could put on. But this was in drear Mundania, and that made it more frightening.

  Rain came down, first a few big drops, then a pelting of medium drops, then an almost solid sheet of small ones. In one and a half moments they were soaked. The road looked slick and slippery. But Nimby pressed on, following the car. Chlorine shivered, and hated what it was doing to her hair. But what had she expected?

  Lightning struck a tree ahead of the car, and a large branch crashed onto the road, blocking it. The Neptune’s wheels skidded as it braked, and it almost didn’t stop in time. The Lemon stopped beside it.

  Chlorine was in contact with Nimby, so knew what he wanted her to know. “Clear the branch; we’ll distract the storm!”

  “But we must stay with you!” Kim called back.

  “We’ll return soon.” And they were off, riding back along the road.

  Nimby lifted one hand, reaching behind his shoulder. Chlorine realized he wanted to talk more specifically. She touched his hand with hers.

  His thought came, but she couldn’t believe if at first. “You want me to drive this thing? But I don’t know how.”

  His further thought came, instructing her in the rudiments. He was serious. He needed time to think, to spread his Awareness, to find something he needed. But he couldn’t pause, because the moment he did, the storm would catch him with a bolt of lightning. It wouldn’t kill him, but could kill her, and knock out his body, costing them valuable time. If his body was unconscious, away from the Companions, it might be days before they got together again, and Dearth would win.

  The notion appalled her, but she would have to try to do it. To give Nimby the time he needed to be Aware. It was almost the only magic he retained, and he had to have the chance to use it.

  But to control the motorcycle, she would have to get in front. How could they change places, without stopping?

  She drew her feet up, setting them on the saddle beside Nimby. Then she clung to his shoulders and lifted her bottom, standing behind him, bent over his head, hanging on as the wet wind tore at her body. Then she hauled one foot up and over his shoulder, and the other. Now she was standing in front of him, reaching under herself to clutch at his shoulders, her panties in his face. If he had been a normal man, in Xanth, he would have freaked out and they would have sailed into a tree. She slid down his front to land in his lap. Then he slid back, and she took over the handlebars and pedals. He put his hands on her hips, and did not move again. He was tuning out.

  She was controlling the machine! All she had to do was keep it going without spinning out of control and crashing, until Nimby was through sensing. She didn’t have to race, but in the driving rain the handling was treacherous. She tried to keep going straight, but veered to the left. She leaned and steered right, and veered too sharply right. The wheels went into the puddle that lined the side, sending up a spray and dragging; she felt the machine slow. But she managed to get it back into the center and straightened out.

  Then something in the road loomed. Maybe a piece of branch, or an animal. She swerved around it, and veered too far left, into the puddle there. Again the water went up in a sheet, and the cycle slowed. She had to watch
her reactions. But she was getting better control. Her confidence was increasing. This wasn’t so bad.

  Lightning struck right ahead. The flash blinded her, and the crack of it deafened her. She could neither see nor hear—but they were still hurtling forward.

  She didn’t have time to panic. She knew where the road was, and if she kept their balance, it would be all right until she recovered her senses. If she could just go straight. Was she going straight?

  She felt the motorcycle slowing. That meant she had drifted to the side. But which side? She had to turn back into the road, but if she turned the wrong way, they would go off the road and crash. She didn’t dare go wrong—but which was right?

  She used her ears which were starting to recover. The splashing seemed worse on the left, and the motorcycle seemed to be trying to drag that way. So she fought it, going straight, because she wasn’t quite sure. Better to forge on through water than to turn the wrong way.

  Her vision was returning around the glare blindness. She saw the road on the right, and moved that way, recovering speed. She had been correct! She was back in control. Then she wondered: had that lightning bolt been intended to strike them, and missed because she had gone too slowly? Or had it been meant to blind her, so that she would have to stop or crash? Would there be another?

  Chlorine nerved herself and accelerated. She steered to one side, and then the other. She wanted to become a more elusive target, just in case. She also squinted, hoping to avoid any further blindness. However, Dearth did not seem to be trying very hard to stop them, maybe because they were going away from home. When they eventually turned back south, it was bound to get worse.

  Nimby squeezed her hips. He was tuning back in! “You want to take over?” she asked over her shoulder, and put one hand back.

  He touched her hand: yes.

  She was concerned how to change places again, as reversing her moves would be tricky. But he simply moved up, and she lifted to sit in his lap, his arms going around her to take over the handlebars. He had control now, and knew where he was going.

  He swerved, splashing through the puddle and onto a dirt trail that was now mud. The wheels slued and skidded, but the machine remained upright. The trail was sloppy, but navigable. Chlorine couldn’t have done it, but Nimby seemed unconcerned.

  Soon they went cross-country, zooming across a soggy field and up a wet slope. They intersected another road and followed it to a farmstead.

  Nimby slowed the machine, and held his hand toward her. Chlorine touched it, and received a mindful of information. As she assimilated this, Nimby guided the Lemon to the farmhouse and stopped.

  Chlorine got off. Then Nimby rode on, so as not to make a stationary target for lightning. Chlorine knew what she had to do.

  She marched up to the farmhouse door and knocked. It opened after a moment, revealing a mature woman. “Girl, you’re soaking!” the woman exclaimed. “Come in and get dry.”

  “Thank you, but I must go out again in a moment. I must talk to your husband.”

  The woman led her to a warm stove. The radiating heat was wonderful. A mature man approached. “I’m Farmer Jones. What’s a slip of a girl like you doing out alone in weather like this?”

  “I am Pia,” Chlorine said. “My party is stalled on the road because of fallen wood. We need a pulley to haul it off. I would like to trade for yours.”

  “I’ve got a spare block and tackle, but it’s too heavy for you to handle.”

  “My—my husband Edsel is on the motorcycle. He can handle it. Our friends in the car are blocked; that’s why we need it.”

  “My college son John can load it for you.” The farmer nodded at a younger man behind him.

  “Thank you. That will really help.” She smiled at John, putting as much reward in it as she could muster in her bedraggled state.

  “What do you have in mind to trade?”

  “A—a dragon. I mean a giant reptile. Bones. Very old. On your land. We will show you where.”

  “What do I want with snake bones?” the farmer demanded.

  “Dad, she’s describing a fossil,” John said. “Maybe a dinosaur.”

  “Is that good? Why should I trade a good block and tackle for news about something I’ve already got on my land?”

  “Might be worth it, Dad. Dino fossils are valuable, and hard to find. The bones could get washed away in the storm before we ever saw them.”

  The farmer pondered briefly. “Okay, you go look at them, and tell me if it’s worth it.”

  “Nimby—I mean, my husband will show you where,” Chlorine said. “But you’ll have to ride with him on his motorcycle.”

  “This grows interesting,” John said, pulling on a raincoat. “I’ll do it.”

  “You can wait here, and have some hot soup,” the farmer’s wife said.

  “Wonderful,” Chlorine said blissfully.

  John went to the door. There was the sound of the motorcycle arriving, by no coincidence; Nimby’s Awareness made such timing feasible.

  “Oh,” Chlorine said. “Edsel doesn’t talk. But he understands. He’ll show you.”

  John nodded and stepped out into the weather. Chlorine settled down to a bowl of steamy soup. It was sheer rapture.

  The farmer’s wife tried to offer Chlorine dry clothing, but she demurred; she would soon have to go out in the rain again. But she thanked them sincerely for the temporary warmth of the stove and the soup.

  Soon there was the sound of the returning motorcycle, and John entered. “It’s true, Dad. It’s a dinosaur for sure, and we’d have missed it. We’ll need to shore it up, to keep it from washing into the river. Thing could be worth thousands. We’ll find out when this freak storm ends and I can call my paleontology prof at college. But it sure as hell is something. Also, that’s a Lemon he’s riding; only good folk have those. Give them the tackle.”

  And so Chlorine found herself back on the Lemon, trying to keep the bulky block, tackle, and rope in place. They headed south.

  The storm abruptly intensified. Dearth obviously was tracking them, and had been biding his time until they tried to head south again.

  Nimby seemed unconcerned. He gunned the motor, following the road at high speed. Chlorine hardly dared look, for fear she would see disaster looming. She reminded herself that Nimby was not the mute dragon or man-form he seemed, but the Demon X(A/N)TH, one of the overwhelmingly powerful figures of the cosmos. The fact that he lacked most of his power here did not mean that his intellect was diminished; he knew what he was doing, and where things were. He had surveyed the whole area, during his time of introspection, and now had a virtual map of it in his mind. Now that he lacked most of his magic, she was able to see the power of his other qualities, such as his Awareness and his learning ability. If she hadn’t loved him already, she would have been falling in love with him now. She was nothing, owing everything to him, but he was such a superior creature.

  He turned his head to glance briefly back at her, and winked. Oh—she had forgotten that he could read her thoughts! That was part of his Awareness, especially when he was so close to her.

  But that reminded her that here in Mundania she was neither her natural homely, dull, unhappy self, nor her enhanced lovely, smart, nice persona. She was an ordinary person in the body of a Mundane woman. But she at least had the wit to know her limits, and to follow without question the guidance of the one whose limits were immeasurably beyond hers. She trusted Nimby, and wanted to share his fate, whatever it might be. He did not have to read her thoughts to know that. He made her seem like a princess in Xanth, while he made himself seem like nothing much, but the reality was vice versa. She never forgot. If her fate was to die in Mundania, she wanted to do it in Nimby’s company.

  Lighting cracked ahead, and a small tree fired out sparks and toppled onto the road. Nimby hardly paused; he simply guided the cycle overland around the base of the tree and back onto the road. He had barely been slowed.

  Dearth must have been infuriate
d, because the storm intensified. Thunder became continuous, and the darkness of the massive cloud formation was countered by the brightness of repeated lightning flashes. Chlorine thought of Fracto throwing a fit. Nimby was getting to Dearth, and that was good.

  More trees came down, crisscrossing the road so thickly that it was pointless to try to use it. Nimby didn’t; he rode through the forest, winding between the standing trees and brush, sluing around puddles and rocks. In places the foliage was so thick that it seemed impossible to penetrate, but somehow Nimby guided the Lemon through it without even scraping. That map in his head made his course clear, however opaque it might seem to her.

  The tackle tried to dislodge; she felt it shift as they whipped around a turn. She reached back with one hand to take hold of it. Nimby was getting them where they needed to go; she had to see that they got there with their payload.

  Something odd happened. There was a funny quality to the air around them. Her long brown hair lifted of its own accord, spreading out around her head like a dark halo.

  The cycle suddenly braked, skidding across the forest floor. It spun around. Chlorine screamed. But they did not fall over. Instead they paused, then took off back the way they had come.

  Lightning cracked behind them. The burst of heat shoved them faster forward. Dearth had struck directly at them, but Nimby had anticipated it and maneuvered out of the way just in time. It seemed he could tell when and where lightning was about to strike.

  That halo of hair—that must have been a signal. In Mundania things didn’t just happen magically; they had to be prepared for. Those few seconds were enough to allow Nimby to get clear.

  The Demon Earth was doing his worst, and they were escaping it. They did have a chance. She realized that she had been somewhat fatalistic about that; now her hope was growing.

  They slid through ridges and channels, across fields and through more forest, and then arrived back where Dug and Kim were waiting with the car. They had used a tow rope to haul the branch clear with the car, so were ready to move. The block and tackle weren’t necessary after all. Chlorine realized that though Nimby could sense what was around him, he could not see into the future. The tackle would have done the job, if the car hadn’t been able to.