Night Mare Part 14

Now they came to the Gap Chasm and proceeded across. This was the only visible two-way bridge, so was the most used; it would have to be the first to go if the Mundane Wave got this far.

The Gap Dragon was present; it raged and reached upward, but the Gap was too deep to make this a serious threat. "Go choke on your own tail, steamsnoot!" Grundy called down to it, and dropped a cherry bomb he had plucked carefully from the Castle Roogna orchard tree. The dragon snapped at it and swallowed it whole. There was a m.u.f.fled boom as the bomb detonated, and smoke shot out of the dragon's ears. But it seemed to make no difference; the monster still raged and pursued them. The Gap Dragon was tough; no doubt about it!

By the time they were across, the harpy was back. "There are about three hundred of them," she reported. They're headed toward the nickelpede crevices. I don't like that; the nickels don't leave anything behind worth eating."

Chem concentrated, and her magic map formed. It showed the nickelpede crevices, a minor network of cracks in the ground. "Where exactly are the Mundanes?" she asked.

The harpy gave her the specifics, and Chem plotted them on her map. Then the harpy flew off, explaining that she had trouble with the smell of the human folk. Now they had a clear notion of the disposition of the enemy troops. "But there are only three hundred of them here,"

Chem remarked. "That suggests they are holding back half their force, perhaps as a reserve."

They drew abreast of King Dor to advise him. "Yes, we'll try to drive them into the nickelpede crevices," he agreed. "If they take cover there, they'll regret it."

But Dor's troops were out of condition and not young; their average age was near fifty. Progress was slow. They would not reach the Mundane Wave before it cleared the nickelpede region. Such a fine opportunity lost!

"We shall have to establish our position and wait for them," King Dor decided. "As I recall, there's a love spring north of the Gap--"

"There is," Chem agreed, projecting her map. "Right here." She pointed to the spot. "We're already past it, and the path by it is one-way; we can't reach it from here."

"That's fine; I don't want to reach it. I want to avoid it. I don't want my troops drinking from it."

Grundy laughed. "That's for sure! But maybe if we fetched some of that water for the Mundanes, they'd immediately breed with any female creature they saw--"

"No," Dor said. "That's not funny, Grundy. We won't fight that way."

The golem scowled. "You can be sure the Mundanes would fight that way! They have no civilized scruples. That's what makes them so tough."

"But we do have civilized scruples," King Dor said. "Perhaps that is what distinguishes us from the Mundanes. We shall maintain that distinction."

"Yes, your Majesty," the golem agreed with disgust.

"What other difficult aspects are there between us and the Nextwave?" King Dor asked Chem.

"There's a river that changes anyone who drinks from it into a fish," she answered, pointing it out on the map. "From what Ichabod said, I think they've encountered an arm of that river farther north, but they may not realize it's the same. And over here is the Peace Forest, where people become so peaceful they simply lie down and sleep forever--"

"That won't give the Mundanes any trouble," Grundy said. "They're not peaceful at all!"

"But we should keep our troops clear of it," King Dor said. "And the river. We'll have to find a safe supply of water. Anything else?"

"Just the nickelpedes," Chem answered. "But the Mundanes will be past that region and the peace pines. The river is probably where we'll meet them."

King Dor sighed. "So be it. I hope we can stop them without too much bloodshed."

No one replied. Imbri knew they shared one major concern: did this young, untried King have what it took to halt the devastating incursion of a Mundane Wave of conquest? They would know the answer all too soon.

To the gratified surprise of all. King Dor did seem to know what he was doing. He ranged his troops along the river, having them dig trenches and throw up embankments with brush piled up in front so that the archers could sight on the enemy without exposing themselves. He had the spearmen ranged in front of the archers, to protect them from charging enemy troops, and the swordsmen in front of the spearmen. "Do not break formation until your captains give the order," King Dor concluded. "They outnumber us; they may try a false retreat, to draw us out, so they can fall on us in the open. Beware! Do not a.s.sume that those who lack magic are not dangerous."

The men chuckled. They were all former Mundanes and lacked magic themselves. The King had paid them a kind of compliment.

Now they just had to wait for the arrival of the enemy. The harpy, eager for the spoils of battle, continued her spy overflights, so everyone knew the Mundanes were not trying anything fancy. They were marching straight down the main path, without any attempt at secrecy. They had no advance scouts and sent no detachments out to flank a potential enemy force. In this respect they were indeed merely a horde charging down the route of least resistance, at greatest speed. Their progress was marked by flame and smoke; they left mainly ashes in their path. The North Village was gone, and it would be long before the centaur range was green again.

Imbri hurt, thinking of all that wanton destruction of excellent pasture. Yet she could understand the Mundanes' rationale; the fire destroyed the unknown threats of magic and routed hiding magic creatures, making the Mundanes feel more secure.

"I don't trust this," Chet Centaur said. "Either they're criminally careless or they have no respect at all for the opposition. Or it's a ruse of some sort. Where are the rest of their troops?"

"Maybe they plan to take Castle Roogna before we know they're coming," King Dor said, perplexed. "Mundanes are unsubtle folk, but we can't afford to underestimate them. All I want is to stop them today. If they have to forage in their own burned-out territory, they'll soon be hungry."

"And thirsty," Grundy added, eyeing the river.

"I suppose transformation is kinder than slaughter," King Dor agreed with a sigh. "Certainly King Trent believed that it was."

It was late in the afternoon when the Nextwave arrived. The motley crew forged up to the river, not even noticing the embankments beyond it. There was no action by Dor's army; his captains would give the attack order only on his signal. Imbri was much impressed; the young King had amazing grasp of the strategy of battle. It was almost as if he had fought Mundanes before--and of course that was impossible, as there had been no Wave in his lifetime, or in the lifetimes of his parents or grandparents. Only Imbri herself had ever seen a Wave surge into Xanth, as far as she knew, though maybe Good Magician Humfrey was old enough. Well, there were the zombies and ghosts, who had existed in their ageless manner for centuries, but they didn't really count.

The first Mundanes threw themselves down beside the river and slurped up the sparkling water. They converted instantly to fish, who leaped and flipped with amazement and discomfort until they splashed into the water and disappeared.

The standing Wavers stared. But they were not completely dull; very soon they caught on to the nature of the enchantment, realizing that this was the same river they had encountered before. Immediately they cried the alarm to their companions.

Some of these were skeptical. They had not seen the transformations of their leading comrades, and suspected some crude Mundane practical joke was being played to aggravate their thirst. So one dropped down to guzzle water--and turned into another fish while all were watching.

That did it. Guards were posted along the river to warn the others, and the Mundane losses were cut. Perhaps a dozen had become fish; the great majority remained.

The Mundanes pushed on past the river, obviously wanting to find a better place to camp for the night. Then they spied the barricades.

"We should give them fair warning," King Dor said.

"Fair warning!" Grundy expostulated. "You're crazy!" Then the golem looked abashed, remembering to whom he was talking. "Figuratively speaking, your Majesty."

"Opinion noted," King Dor remarked dryly, and in that moment he reminded Imbri of King Trent. "Imbri, can you project a warning dream that far?"

"It would have to be very diffuse and weak," she sent "They would probably shrug it off as of no consequence."

King Dor nodded. He spoke to the leader of the Xanth army. "Ask for a volunteer to stand up and warn the Mundanes not to proceed farther."

"I'll do it myself, sir," the man said, saluting. He was a balding, fattening, middle-aged man, but he had done good work organizing the troops and handling the logistics of feeding and moving so large a force--one hundred men-- on such short notice.

The man lumbered down the back slope of the hill on which King Dor was situated, so as not to give away the King's location. He circled to the rear of the barricade and mounted a convenient boulder. Then he cupped his mouth with his hands and shouted with excellent military volume: "Mundanes! Halt!"

The leading Mundanes looked up, then shrugged and marched on, ignoring him.

"Halt, or we attack!" the Xanth leader cried.

The leading Mundane brought his bow about, whipped an arrow out of his quiver, and shot it at the Xanth general. The other Mundanes charged toward him.

"Well, we tried," King Dor said regretfully. He signaled the general, who had dodged the first arrow and now was taking cover behind the boulder.

The general gave the order. The Xanth archers sent their first shafts flying. Most of them missed, either because the archers were long out of practice or because their hearts weren't in it. For over two decades they had opposed monsters, not men, or indulged in elaborate war games whose relation to actual warfare was questionable. One arrow did strike a Mundane, more or less by accident.

"Blood!" the harpy screeched hungrily.

The Mundanes finally realized they were under attack. They retreated across the river, protecting their bodies with their shields. A couple of them tripped as they stepped backward through the water, fell, gulped, and became fish.

Now the Mundanes were angry, as perhaps they had reason to be. They lined up along the river and shot off a volley of arrows. But these did not have much effect, because of the embankments and brush that protected the Xanth troops.

Then Hasbinbad, the Carthaginian leader, appeared at the front, splendidly armed and armored in the grand Punic tradition. He was a considerable contrast to the motley a.s.sortment of archers and spearmen he commanded. Imbri could not overhear his words, but the effect on the Mundanes was immediate. They formed into a phalanx, shields overlapping, and marched back across the river. The Xanth defenders were astonished, but a few of them knew of this type of formation, and word quickly spread. The Mundanes were now virtually impervious to arrows.

But the Xanth commander knew about this sort of thing. At his orders, crews of strong men heaved at boulders that had been scouted and loosened earlier, starting them rolling grandly down the slope. One crunched directly toward the phalanx. The Mundanes saw it coming and scattered, their formation broken. That threat had been abated.

Maybe the Nextwave would be contained, Imbri thought. They had to pa.s.s this spot to get to Castle Roogna, and they weren't making headway yet. Soon night would fall, and the nocturnal creatures would emerge, forcing the enemy to seek cover.

But the Mundanes who remained beyond the river had been busy. They had a big fire going--they certainly liked to burn things!--and now were poking their arrows into it. Were they destroying their weapons? That did not seem to make much sense!

Then they stood and fired their burning arrows at the brush barriers of the defenders. Trouble!" Chet Centaur muttered. "We should have antic.i.p.ated this."

Trouble indeed! The dry brush blazed up quickly, destroying the cover. Men ran to push out the burning sections, but during this distraction the entire Mundane army charged in a ma.s.s. The Xanth archers sent their arrows more seriously now, bringing down a number of the enemy, but this was only a token. Soon the Mundanes were storming the barricades, brandishing their weapons, and the Xanth troops were fleeing in terror. A rout was in the making.

"I won't put up with this!" King Dor cried. "Take me there, Chet!"

"But you could be killed!" the centaur protested.

"I have faced death before," the King said seriously. "If you don't carry me, I'll go afoot."

Chet grimaced, then drew his sword and galloped forward. "Idiocy!" Chem muttered, taking her coil of rope and pacing her brother, carrying the golem. Imbri agreed with her--and bore Smash right behind them. One thing was certain, there were no cowards in the King's bodyguard, but plenty of fools.

They charged to the burning barricades, where the Mundanes were making their way through. Suddenly the flames began talking, as the King exerted his talent. "I'm going to destroy you, Mundane!" one cried as it licked close. "I'll really burn you up!"

A number of Mundanes whirled, startled. "Yes, you, armorface!" the flame taunted. "I'll scorch the skin off your rear and boil you in your own fat! Beware my heat!"

Some Mundanes hastily retreated, but others leaped out the near side. They closed on the King's party. "Get him!" one cried. "That's their King!"

But now Smash the Ogre went into action. He swelled up monstrously, bursting out of his human trousers, until he was twice the height and six times the ma.s.s of a man.

He no longer sat astride Imbri; he stood over her. He roared, and the blast of his breath blew the leaves off the nearest trees and bushes and shook the clouds in their orbits. He ripped a small tree from the ground and swung it in a great arc that wiped a swath clear of enemy personnel. It seemed the Mundanes had not before encountered an angry ogre; they would be more careful in the future.

King Dor and Chet trotted on, and where they went the ground yelled threats at the Mundanes, and the stones made crunching noises as if a giant were tromping near, and dry sticks rattled as if poisonous. The Mundanes were continuously distracted, and more of them retreated in disarray. Any who sought to attack Dor were balked by the sword and rope of the two centaurs, and many of the rest were terrified by the charging ogre. The Punics seemed daunted as much by the strangeness of this new opposition as by its ferocity.

The Xanth troops rallied and came back into the fray. Blood had been shed; now they knew for certain that this was serious business. Long-neglected skills returned in strength. Soon the Mundanes were routed, fleeing across the river and north as dusk came. King Dor called off the chase, not wanting to risk combat at night.

The harpy had her heart's desire: there were some fifty Mundane corpses left on the battlefield. But there were also twenty Xanth dead and twice that number wounded. The brief action had been mutually devastating. This was every bit as bad as the terrible dreams Imbri had delivered during the campaign of the Lastwave! Still, it was a technical victory for the home team, and the pain of the losses was overbalanced by the satisfaction of successfully turning back the Nextwave.

"This is internecine warfare," Chet said. "It does great harm to both sides. I wish there were some more amicable way to deal with this problem."

"It isn't ended," King Dor said. "They'll return tomorrow, and they still outnumber us. We have barely forty men in fighting condition. We must set up new boulders and make a rampart that is impervious to fire. We'll haul up supplies of river water, which no one must drink, and drill on targets for bow and arrow accuracy. We can hold them if we work at it, but it still will not be easy."

"And if we hold them for another day or so," Chem added, "they should lose interest in fighting and gain interest in feeding themselves. Then it may be possible to negotiate an end to hostilities, and the Wave will be over."

Imbri hoped it would be that easy. She had a deep distrust of the Mundanes and knew how devious they could be.

The troops were allowed to eat and sleep in shifts, while others labored all night on the defenses. The walking wounded were encouraged to walk south, back across the bridge over the Gap, as this was safer than remaining for tomorrow's renewed battle. If the Mundanes were hurting as badly as the Xanthians, they would not renew the attack, but that was uncertain.

The two centaurs, the golem, the ogre, and Imbri ranged themselves about King Dor's tent and slept by turns also. There was no trouble; evidently the Mundanes were no more eager to fight by night than were the Xanthians.

"Did you notice," Chet said at one point, apparently having cogitated on the events of the day, "there are no Mundane horses here? They must all be with their reserves."

Imbri hadn't noticed, but realized it was true. She should have been the first to make that observation! If the Punics had wanted to move rapidly, why hadn't they used their horses? "Maybe they did not have enough horses for every man," she sent, "and could not take time to let the horses graze, so could not use them here. An all-horse mounted party would have been too small to capture Castle Roogna. But surely those horses will be used later."

"Quite possible," Chet agreed. "But I also wonder whether the missing horses and the missing men can be doing an encirclement, planning to attack where we least expect, while our attention and all our troops are concentrated here."

"We had better tell the King in the morning," Imbri sent. "He will want to set a special guard about Castle Roogna in case the Mundanes do try that! Fifty horses and riders could take Castle Roogna if our forces were elsewhere."

Rea.s.sured that they had antic.i.p.ated the Mundane ploy, they relaxed.

The Mundanes, amazingly, attacked again at dawn. They formed another phalanx, this time maneuvering skillfully to avoid the rolling boulders.

"Your Majesty!" Grundy called. "The enemy is attacking!"

There was no response from the tent. Chet swept the flap aside and they all peered in.

King Dor lay still, his eyes staring upward. But he was not awake.

Chet drew the King to a sitting posture. Dor breathed, but did not respond. His eyes continued staring.

Imbri nicked a dream at him and encountered only blankness.

"He has gone the way of King Trent!" Chem exclaimed, horrified.

After that, it was disaster. The Mundanes rapidly overran the Xanth defenses. The surviving home troops fled, and this time there was no one to rally them. The centaurs tied the King to Imbri's back, then guarded her as she carried their fallen leader back to Castle Roogna. Seeming victory had become disaster.

And what would they tell Queen Irene, Dor's brand-new wife and widow?

Chapter 8: The Zombie Master.

"Somehow I knew it," Irene said. "A nightmare told me Dor would not come back." She was dressed in black. "I blotted the dream from my mind, thinking to escape the prophecy, but when I saw your party coming, I remembered." She looked at King Dor, suppressing her expression of grief for the moment. "Take him to the King's chamber."

They took King Dor up to join King Trent, and Irene remained there. There was nothing more to say to her at the moment.

"Who is the next King?" Grundy asked. "It has to be a Magician."

"That would be the Zombie Master," Chet said. "Magician Humfrey is too old, and he doesn't partic.i.p.ate in contemporary politics. When King Trent was lost in Mundania eight years ago and King Dor had to go look for him, the Zombie Master reigned for a couple of weeks quite competently. When there was a quarrel, he would send a zombie to break it up; pretty soon there were very few quarrels." Chet smiled knowingly.

"But the Zombie Master is off in the southern unexplored territory," Chem protested. "He likes his privacy. I don't even have him on my map."

"And the magic mirror's still out of commission," Grundy said. "We can't call him."