Xone of Contention

by Anthony, Piers

  Nothing had happened to Dug and Kim in the interim; even the rain had abated. It was Nimby Dearth was after, no one else, and Chlorine realized that Dearth might not even be aware of others. So Nimby had enabled them to clear the way, just by being absent.

  They loaded the tackle into the car, and resumed their journey south. This time the motorcycle led the way. The rain increased, and the wind, but no trees came down. Dearth evidently realized that they now had the means to haul trees out of the way, for the tackle could multiply their pulling power several fold. So the tackle finessed the trees; the mere threat of it stopped that ploy.

  But now it was afternoon, and they would not get home today unless they drove in the night. The storm was extremely dark ahead; Dearth was saving his worst for last.

  Nimby lifted one hand, signaling the car, then rode into a motel lot. He stopped, and the car pulled up beside it. Nimby touched Chlorine’s hand, imparting information.

  “You stay here for the night,” Chlorine said, getting off the cycle and stretching her legs.

  “But we can drive a couple more hours before night,” Dug protested. “And into the night, to get home. We don’t have to stop.”

  “Nimby knows,” Chlorine said. “Stop here, eat, sleep early. We’ll need to resume in the wee hours.”

  “Okay,” he said dubiously.

  Chlorine turned back to the cycle—and it was starting to move. “Wait for me!” she cried. But Nimby just waved and drove away.

  “I guess he means for you to stay with us,” Kim said sympathetically.

  “I suppose so,” Chlorine agreed, concealing her hurt. She knew Nimby was protecting her, by giving her a chance to eat and sleep in peace while he distracted Dearth, but she hated being apart from him.

  They took a motel room and turned on the TV while taking turns showering and cleaning up and changing to dry clothing. Chlorine saw the ongoing news and was appalled. It showed scenes of devastation. A freak storm had laid waste the region, and the Chat-A-Hoot-Cheese River and its tributaries were flooding. One of the flooded rivers crossed their route south. The bridges were closed.

  “We’re not going to get across that in the next two days,” Dug said grimly. “Not with a car.”

  “Nimby knew,” Chlorine said, beginning to appreciate why he had halted their drive south.

  Kim emerged from the shower, wrapped in a towel. She was a lanky girl, but self assured. “Look at that!” she exclaimed as the TV picture showed a bridge getting washed away. “Where is this disaster?”

  “On our route south,” Dug said, heading for the shower. “Freak storm, they say.”

  “Freak storm, my eye,” Kim said. “That’s Dearth going after Nimby.”

  “Yes,” Chlorine agreed. “That tree across the road was just to delay us while the storm flooded the area between us and home. Nimby stopped it with the tackle, but too much time was lost. But Nimby has something in mind.”

  “It’s like a chess game,” Kim said. “Ploy and counter-ploy. We’re just pawns, not seeing the larger strategy until it’s too late.”

  “Nimby will find a way,” Chlorine said bravely.

  Kim patted her hand. “I’m sure he will.” But Chlorine knew fake optimism when she heard it.

  The rain was only moderate in this region. They went out to eat, and got gasoline for the car, and turned in at eight at night. Chlorine had a bed to herself. She missed Nimby, but knew that if he returned here to be with her, the storm would intensify and the motel might well be struck by lightning and burned down. So Nimby was protecting them all.

  “It’s an irony,” Dug remarked from the other bed. “We Companions are supposed to keep Nimby out of mischief in this unfamiliar land. Instead he’s keeping us out of mischief.”

  “Nimby’s very smart,” Chlorine said. “And he’s been studying conscience. Demons don’t come with consciences; they’re like machines or golems in that respect. But Nimby’s trying to learn how to love, to dream, to have conscience—all the things the souled creatures do. So this is practice for him.”

  “I’d say he’s getting there,” Kim said. “Okay, we’ve got the alarm set for two AM. Let’s sleep.”

  “Shux,” Dug said. “I thought we were in for six hours of hot love.”

  “Six minutes, swiftie,” Kim retorted. “Then you’re done, ready or not.”

  “You are a hard taskmistress.”

  “No, a soft one. For five and a half minutes. After that I turn into a brassie lassie.”

  Now Chlorine really missed Nimby. The brassies were Xanth folk made of brass. Their women could be surprisingly soft when they wanted to be, but were otherwise metal hard. Kim was obliging Dug’s interest, but had set a time limit well within a normal man’s capability. She was a nice person. Chlorine knew that if she set Nimby such a limit, he would manage to signal five storks in five minutes. That was an advantage of not being human.

  She closed her eyes, imagining Nimby’s performance. And thought she felt his answering nudge. Probably imagination, because of his lack of magic here. But maybe he was tuning in on her, and shared her vision and feeling. She wished they could signal the stork and have it deliver, but of course that would never happen unless Nimby wanted it. He had given her so much, she was ashamed even to think of wanting more. Of being a normal family, with all the joys and travails of raising children.

  The alarm went off, startling her awake. They scrambled out of their beds and lined up at the bathroom, getting ready. Twenty minutes later they were outside, two in the car and one waiting for the motorcycle.

  It came. Chlorine got on behind Nimby, and they were on their way somewhere. She wondered where he had been all night. Probably riding around in random patterns, never pausing, so that Dearth could not pin him down. Fortunately Nimby did not need sleep; when they lay together for the night, and she slept, she knew that his Awareness was reaching out, exploring all Xanth. But what about Edsel’s mortal body? That must be getting tired. So where were they going now?

  Not south. Nimby followed roads and trails to the side. Dearth was aware—it seemed he always know where Nimby was, once he tuned in—and the weather worsened. But it was apparent that a storm could not be generated instantly, and Nimby, taking an unexpected direction, was staying just ahead of it. Still, this was not leading home.

  They drove some distance, and dawn came. Still Nimby led them in the strange direction.

  They took a side trail. This soon became waterlogged. The flooding had reached this far, drowning out the road. Chlorine saw a bridge ahead that was above the water, but the approach was impossible.

  Nimby turned off the motor and came to a stop. He touched Chlorine’s hand.

  She got off and went to the car, which had stopped with its tires deep in standing water. “The road goes through, and crosses the river. Thereafter it’s mostly high ground. If we cross here, Dearth won’t be able to flood us out later. But it will stop your motor. Turn it off. We’ll make a winch. It will be slow, but can be done.”

  They didn’t question this. They shut down the motor and brought out the block, tackle, and rope. Nimby walked the Lemon out to a stout tree, then anchored the block to it. It was a special design, that could be set to increase the pulling force considerably. This required a lot of rope, but they had it; Nimby had planned well. Then he tied one rope to the motorcycle and the other to the distant car. He rode the cycle along a dry ridge—and it hauled the car slowly through the water.

  Chlorine remembered that there had been an example of such a pulley in one of the movie previews they had seen on the second day in Mundania. Nimby had studied that, and learned. There had been motorcycles, too, she realized. Now he was using what he had learned then. Nothing passed him by.

  Then Nimby disconnected and walked the Lemon to another tree, farther along. He repeated the process. After several such stages, the car was through the deep puddle and back on dry land, at the edge of the bridge. It had been towed through the water without having to
struggle to keep its motor dry. Apparently water didn’t hurt a motor that wasn’t running, at least not in the same way as it had in the mountains. Unless it was guided in the night by the malign power of the Demon E(A/R)TH.

  They let the motors dry briefly. Then they started them, without difficulty, and rode across the bridge. The water was rushing tumultuously under, but the bridge supports and structure were solid. Evidently this was a little known crossing that Dearth had not thought to wash out. Now it was too late.

  Was Dearth angry? So it seemed. This time clouds did not form and thicken; the opposite was the case. The terrain warmed and dried. Steam rose from the scene. Then smoke. Then fires broke out. Smoke rose into the sky. What was happening?

  Nimby touched her hand. “Volcanic activity?” she asked, amazed. “Are there volcanoes here?”

  Not hitherto. But Dearth was angry, and the power of the earth was his as well as the powers of the air and water. This region would see its first volcano, if Nimby didn’t get away from here soon.

  But Nimby was already moving away from it. Their two vehicles raced past the spreading fires and left them behind. The volcano, too, was too late; Dearth had not had time to raise it to sufficient power, thanks to Nimby’s sudden change of direction. Even so, there would be new weather headlines for the local newspapers. Chlorine wondered again where Nimby had been during the night—but obviously it had not been near here. So he had surprised Dearth, and gotten through another barrier.

  Nimby signaled the car again. They pulled over to the side of the road. Nimby touched Chlorine’s hand.

  “Nimby needs time to be Aware,” Chlorine announced. “We have caught up to his prior plan, and now he needs more information. But we can’t afford to pause; Dearth will strike. We have an hour of clear road ahead. Nimby must ride in the car, and Dug can ride the Lemon.”

  “Got it,” Dug said. “It’s been like magic, getting through. We want more of that.” He took over the motorcycle.

  Nimby got into the back of the car, with Chlorine. Kim drove. As they moved out, Nimby leaned back and closed his eyes. Chlorine thought he was sleeping, but he took her hand.

  Suddenly she was sharing his Awareness. She saw the Land of Mundania extending as her perception rose from the car, like a bird flying upward. The trees, houses, roads, lakes, and fields spread out in the manner of an unfolding map. There were tiny cars on the roads, moving in various directions. She realized with a start that this was not a picture; this was reality. This was what was happening in this region of Mundania right now.

  There was another river, also flooding, with its bridges closed. They had circled around one such impediment, but now were heading into another. Well, they had almost two days to get home, and if it took one day to get around this one, they would still be in time.

  The scene flew south, to the peninsula of Xanth, called Florida in Mundania. It dropped down to another swollen river, crossed it, and oriented on a town beyond. On a motel. Into that motel, searching out a particular unit. Into that unit.

  There was a figure Chlorine recognized: Sean Baldwin Mundane. With a young woman who looked somewhat familiar—oh, it was Willow Elf, without her wings. Her Mundane version. And Sean’s little brother David Baldwin, now age fifteen. And his cat, Midrange. They had visited Xanth three years ago. Chlorine knew them well, for she and Nimby had been with them when the Ill Wind came to Xanth.

  Willow carried a locket. Chlorine recognized it, from Nimby’s Awareness: it was magic, holding any amount of anything, and at the moment it held a few oddments, a lesser demon, and a bucket of magic dust.

  Magic dust! She had for the moment forgotten. That was what Nimby needed to have some power of magic in Mundania. His body in Xanth was the source of all magic, but here he was Mundane. Until he got that dust. Sean and Willow were bringing it to him, but had been stalled by the flooded rivers. They could not get across.

  Did Dearth know this? So far he had given evidence of watching only Nimby, but he surely could watch anyone he chose, here in his dreary land. So he was not only blocking Nimby’s progress, with imperfect success, but blocking Sean’s progress, with better success. Because Sean did not have Awareness; he could not fathom the devious ways to circumvent the barriers.

  That river would take days to subside. How could Sean and Willow get through? They had Sean’s car, but the bridges were closed. The bridges were in place, but deemed to be unsafe during the flood. No one was allowed on them. Maybe someone could sneak across by foot, but then he would be without his car. What could they do?

  Willow perked up, cocking her head. She heard something, or sensed it. She touched Sean’s arm, and whispered something to him. She had felt Nimby’s Awareness! Chlorine knew this only because Nimby did. Contact had been made. Willow was of Xanthly origin, so was better attuned to magic, even this very slight magic of sensing.

  But what good was it? No one could cross that river from either side. Not until the three days of the Challenge were long since over. Nimby had gone around one block, but used up a night doing it, and the block at the other end he could not do much about. So the essential nature of this contest suggested that Nimby would lose. Did it mean that Sean’s party would give up its effort to bring the magic locket to Nimby?

  Then the scene faded. The vision was done. Chlorine opened her eyes. Nimby did not. He had gone to sleep. Or at least his body had, and that was surely good.

  Chlorine told Kim what she had seen. “So the Mundane Baldwins are trying,” she concluded. “But they can’t reach us, and we can’t reach them. Even if one party managed to cross its river, the other river is keeping the other back. We are kept apart by parallel rivers. So it looks as though Dearth has won.”

  “Is Nimby concerned?” Kim asked.

  “I don’t know. He’s asleep.” No need to clarify that it was really Edsel’s tired body sleeping.

  “He probably got no rest last night.”

  “So what do we do?” Chlorine asked, near tears.

  “We move on south. Maybe we’ll get a break.”

  “A break?”

  “Like finding a boat to cross the river.”

  “Dearth would sink it.”

  Kim shrugged. “It’s not over till it’s over.”

  They continued south. When they reached the city, there was no way to go south beyond it.

  Nimby woke. “We have gone as far south as we can go,” Chlorine said.

  He touched her hand, then returned to sleep. “Turn left,” she told Kim. “There is a motel there with a room free.” The motels were crowded now, because of the number of people caught unexpectedly away from home. Finding a room for the night would be difficult.

  Kim turned, and Dug on the motorcycle followed. They drove along the side road.

  “There,” Chlorine said, pointing.

  “But it says No Vacancies,” Kim protested.

  “Try it anyway.”

  They drove to the front office. Kim got out and went in. She emerged moments later with a look of vague awe. “They thought they had no vacancies, but then they got a cancellation, so we got it.”

  “Nimby knew,” Chlorine said.

  “How could he know the future? I mean, you explained about the Awareness, but that’s all in the present, isn’t it?”

  “I think he knew the people were canceling in the present. They just hadn’t yet notified the office.”

  So they had a good room. This time Nimby joined them. The storm hovered, but did not intensify; Dearth seemed satisfied to keep the two rivers flooded, knowing that they represented a formidable barrier. He knew where Nimby was, and where Sean’s party was; as long as they remained separated, victory was just a matter of time.

  Nimby went to bed and slept.

  “We’ll go get pizza,” Dug said.

  Chlorine sat beside the bed and watched Nimby. Surely his body was tired, and needed the rest. But he didn’t even seem to be worried. Was he bluffing? But with the two parties unable to meet, he had
to lose. Should he at least be trying to get across the river, on the chance that Sean would get across his river?

  “Whatever the end of this, I love you,” she murmured. “You are my everything, Nimby.” For at least she had had three years of the wonder of him. And perhaps she would have more, if all Nimby lost was status. She didn’t want him to be hurt, but she hardly cared about his status, as long as she could be with him. But she was afraid that if he lost that status, he would leave Xanth, and that would be the end of everything.

  Dug and Kim returned with the pizza. They turned on the TV and watched the weather news. It wasn’t good. They chatted about incidentals, staying away from the obvious subject.

  Nimby slept on.

  Finally Chlorine joined him, lying beside him, holding his hand. He was unresponsive. Was that just because his body was dead tired, or was it worse? Could Nimby have given up?

  In the morning Nimby joined them at a restaurant across the street for breakfast. Finally Dug broached the awful matter: “Two days are gone. What do we do?”

  Nimby touched Chlorine’s hand. “We relax,” she said. “We read a book.”

  “Read a book?” Kim asked. It was evident that her patience was fraying.

  “I saw a little library just down the street from us,” Dug said. “We could go there.”

  Kim glanced at him, but refrained from making a sharp comment. “Well, it will pass the time, I suppose.” As if they had too much time on their hands. Chlorine shared their gathering depression. Were they just supposed to dawdle here, waiting for the end?

  They finished breakfast and went to the library. But as they entered, the lights went out. “Oh, another power failure,” the librarian said. “I’m so sorry.” Her name tag said MARY LOU MATTHEW.

  Kim looked around. “You have a computer system.”

  “Yes, for the patrons to use to go inline,” the librarian said. “They love it. But the power’s been so erratic the last two days, we can’t use it.”