Night Mare Part 16

"No, not dead," Irene agreed in a whisper. "Ensorcelled."

"Of course. We shall track down the source of that ensorcellment," the Zombie Master said. "Magician Humfrey surely can do that. But at the moment we must stop the advance of the Nextwave, about which the good mare Imbri has kindly informed me. I have fought a Wave before, in my prior life; my zombies alone are not sufficient, but, abetted by a formidable natural barrier such as--what is it, something that crosses Xanth--"

"The Gap Chasm," Irene said. "You moved too far from it, so have almost forgotten it because of the forget-spell on it."

"Just so. The Gap Chasm. My zombies can guard the bridges and destroy them if necessary. I shall need a lieutenant who is familiar with Castle Roogna and the recent events. I can not afford to waste time updating myself about recent changes in the castle."

"Grundy the Golem," Irene said. "And Ichabod the Mundane; he knows all about the enemy. And Chet and Chem Centaur. And, of course, Mare Imbri."

"Indeed," the Magician agreed dourly, and left the room. Imbri followed.

Soon there was another council of war. Grundy and Ichabod reported all relevant details of their spy mission, and Chet Centaur gave the details of the battle with the Punics and the manner in which King Dor had been enchanted.

The Zombie Master pondered. "There seems to be a pattern here," he remarked. "In each case the King was alone, though seemingly well guarded. In each case the enchantment occurred by night. I suspect we have a nocturnal enemy who can strike at a moderate distance, or who is able to pa.s.s guards un.o.bserved. Whom do we know who could do that?"

"A night mare," Imbri said in a general dreamlet. "My kind can become insubstantial and invisible by night and can project dreams from a small distance. But we can't ensorcell."

"A night mare," the King repeated, removing the crown. It fitted him well enough, but he evidently was not comfortable with such trappings and preferred to dispense with them. "Could there be a renegade, one with special powers?"

"I know of no renegade among residents of the gourd," Imbri sent. "The Night Stallion has special powers--but he is loyal to Xanth and never leaves the gourd. All other dark horses lack mental powers, other than dream projection, and regular horses lack even that. There are only the Mundane horses anyway, completely unmagical."

"There's the day horse," Grundy said. "But he's stupid."

"Not completely stupid," Imbri sent. "He seems smarter as he becomes accustomed to our ways. Still, I don't see how he could be the sorcerer, even if he had night power. Twice he helped us against the Mundanes. He freed me from the Horseman and carried Chameleon on the spy mission."

"I did not mean to implicate horses," the Zombie Master said. "Could some other creature develop similar powers?" Chet shrugged. The gesture started at his human shoulders and rippled down along his equine forepart. "Anything is possible. Perhaps a variant of a basilisk, who stuns instead of kills. Or a groupie-fish, stealing souls. Obviously some creature or person can destroy Kings."

"One smart enough to recognize a King, since they're the only ones taken," Grundy put in.

"Precisely," the Zombie Master said. "And I am surely the next target. There is one thing you should know about me: I was a zombie for eight hundred years. I was restored to life by a special elixir Dor obtained, and I owe him an eternal debt of grat.i.tude. I retain the power to animate myself as a zombie, should I suffer an untimely demise. So if the mysterious enemy should strike me down and I die, you must locate my zombie and question it. Perhaps the ident.i.ty of the mysterious enchanter will be revealed."

They all nodded sober agreement. What a grim way to locate an enemy!

"Now I must rouse the Castle Roogna guardian zombies and march them tonight to the Chasm. It is surely our only chance to get there before the Nextwave does. Timing is critical."

"The zombies are already mostly roused," Grundy said. "Dor and Irene got married less than a week ago in the zombie graveyard."

"That would rouse them," the Zombie Master agreed with a gaunt smile. "Zombies love weddings and similar morbidities. Now I must go organize them into an army. The rest of you get some sleep. Report to the Chasm at dawn, armed. I may need some of you living folk to be captains, as zombies do not think too well." He left the room, going to gather his forces.

"Captain of a zombie troop!" Grundy said. "Well, why not? Zombies aren't bad people, once you get used to the smell."

Imbri remembered the brief dream contact she had had with one zombie at the wedding: maggoty blood pudding. Zombies might not be bad people, but they were hardly pleasant companions. Still, as warriors against the Mundanes, the zombies had definite promise.

At dawn, imperfectly rested, they reported as directed. The King had already ranged his zombies along the Chasm and behind trees. The Mundanes could cross only where the bridges were, and since one bridge was one-way from south to north and another was invisible, the third was the obvious choice. It was visible and solid, with a well-worn path to it.

The Mundanes had had a full intervening day to regroup and travel, and they had not wasted it. At midmorning they arrived at the Gap Chasm, following the main path. They had evidently learned that straying from the path was to invite a.s.sorted and awful hazards. The wilderness of Xanth had ways to enforce its strictures.

Immediately the zombies closed on them, throwing chunks of rotting flesh and fragments of bone in lieu of missiles.

The Nextwavers reacted exactly as they were supposed to. They screamed and retreated in confusion. Mundanes were prejudiced against zombies, as they were against ghosts, ghouls, vampires, werewolves, and similarly innocent creatures, and tended to avoid physical contact with them.

Then Hasbinbad appeared, gesticulating. Again he rallied his errant army. The potency of a good leader was manifest; the motley crew became a determined force. The Mundanes began attacking the zombies, shooting arrows into them. Naturally the arrows had no effect; they could not kill what was already dead. Other Mundanes hacked at the zombies with their swords. This was more effective, for Zombies could not function well without limbs or heads.

But the Mundane's aversion to the zombies handicapped them, and many living men were brought down by the walking dead. Soon the ground was littered with bones and flesh, fresh-dead mixed with un-dead.

Now Hasbinbad led a charge to the main bridge. His surviving men followed in a hastily formed phalanx, their overlapping shields brushing aside the zombies. The Mundanes were winning the battle.

"We have to deal with that leader," the Zombie Master muttered. "Without him, they are nothing; with him, they will prevail."

Imbri had to agree: leadership made all the difference. Had King Trent remained active, the Wave would not have gotten this far. King Dor, too, had been winning. How could Xanth defend itself when it kept losing its leaders just as they got the hang of it?

A picked squad of zombies guarded the bridge. These were zombie animals, more formidable than zombie people.

Hasbinbad came up against a zombie wyvern. The small dragon was in bad condition, even for its kind, and shed scales and flesh with every motion. The Mundane chief hacked at its snout with his sword. The snout exploded like a rotten log; teeth, tongue, nostrils, and eyeb.a.l.l.s showered down around the Mundanes. Then the wyvern fought back, exhaling a belch of fire. The fire was as decrepit as the creature, drooling out greenishly and licking at Hasbinbad's feet. It was hot, though; the Mundane danced back out of the way with a green hotfoot.

When the gasp of fire faded, the Nextwaver advanced again. He lopped off the rest of the wyvern's head. Ears, brains, and tonsils flew up in slices, showering the Mundanes again. But the bare neck thrust forward, jamming into Hasbinbad's face, squirting candy-striped pus, forcing him to retreat a second time.

Again the man struck. Vertebrae, muscles, and stringy nerves flung out, festooning the Waver's sword arm. But still the man pressed forward--and received a faceful of watery blood that pumped out of the truncated torso. He shook himself off as if not quite believing this was happening, wiped the gook out of his eyes with the back of his left fist, then slashed some more, heedless of the guts and tatters of skin that burst out and wrapped about his body. He now resembled a zombie himself.

"That Mundane is determined," the Zombie Master remarked.

"He's the one who brought them through the snow covered Mundane mountains of Halp," Grundy said. "From Ghoul to Hitaly. He's one smart, ruthless cuss."

A zombie ant lion pounced at the Mundane leader. This was a relatively new zombie, not very far decayed. The lion-head roared, showing excellent teeth, and the ant-body had six healthy legs and a stinger. The creature was alert to the strikes of the sword, dodging out of the way. Few zombies had any sense of self-preservation; even Hasbinbad recognized this as unusual.

Another Mundane emerged from the phalanx, aiming an arrow at the ant lion. But three zombie goblins charged at him, grabbing for his legs.

Then the other Mundanes got into the action. Soon they had dispatched the ant lion and goblins, together with zombie frogs, rabbits, and a watery-eyed hydraulic ram. As the ram fell into the Gap, the gore and rot-strewn men stood at the very edge of the bridge.

On the bridge, however, was a zombie python, b.u.t.tressed by zombie roaches, a zombie flying fish, and a zombie c.o.c.katrice. The Mundanes concentrated on the python, apparently not recognizing the genuinely dangerous monster, the c.o.c.k. Hasbinbad tackled the snake's head, distracting it so that two other Mundanes could skirt it and start across the bridge.

"That chief's valor has just preserved his life," the Zombie Master murmured.

The two Wavers on the bridge trod diligently on the roaches, which popped and squished with a.s.sorted ghastly sounds, depending on their state of preservation. The Wavers swished their swords at the flying fish, who darted around their heads, squirting mouthfuls of stagnant water. Then the first Mundane came face to snoot with the c.o.c.katrice.

There was a moment's pause before the Mundane dissolved into green goop and slurped off the bridge. A living c.o.c.katrice could convert a living creature to a corpse by the mere force of its gaze, but a zombie c.o.c.katrice lacked full power. Instead it halfway melted creatures to muscle rot.

The second Mundane charged the little monster--and he, too, melted into putrescence and plopped Into the Chasm. There was a choking sound from below; the Gap Dragon had arrived on the scene and snapped up the gob. Now the poor dragon had mild indigestion.

"Avert your gaze! Use your shields!" Hasbinbad bawled, so loudly that Imbri heard it all the way across the Chasm.

One brave Nextwaver obliged. The man pulled his helmet over his eyes, raised his shield, and edged out onto the bridge, guided by the guardrails. Listening to yelled instructions from his leader, he oriented on the c.o.c.katrice and finally used the bottom edge of his shield to sweep the little monster off the bridge.

The c.o.c.katrice fell, and the Gap Dragon had recovered enough to snap it up. There was a gulp, then a kind of stifled belch. Now the dragon had a real pain in the gut.

"I don't like this at all," the Zombie Master muttered. "Those Nextwavers are too strong for us. We may be forced to destroy the bridge."

"I can bring them down singly as they cross," Chet said, holding his bow ready.

The Zombie Master considered. "It seems worth a try, though I am skeptical of its eventual success. There are quite a number of Mundanes who have not yet seen battle; the bridge is too small a compa.s.s. We have held them so far only because they can not bring their full force to bear, but they will surely overwhelm us before long."

Hasbinbad had by now dispatched the zombie serpent. Now the Nextwave started across the bridge, single file.

Chet nocked an arrow, aimed, and let fly. The shaft arced across the gulf, then thunked into the face of the leading Mundane. The man collapsed and fell into the Chasm.

The second Nextwaver elevated his shield to protect his face. The centaur's second arrow struck him on the exposed thigh. The man screamed, lost his balance, and fell.

The third Nextwaver held his shield low, but waited until the centaur aimed, watching closely. When the arrow flew at his head, he used his shield to intercept it--and got caught by Chets second arrow, aimed at his leg.

In this manner, Chet methodically dispatched six Mundanes, using as many arrows on each as were necessary to do the job. Then he ran out of arrows.

Now the Mundanes double-timed across the bridge, one after the other. They had taken the unavoidable losses and finally were charging to victory. Their depth of numbers, so feared by the Zombie Master, was taking effect.

"The bridge!" the Zombie Master snapped.

Chet brought out his sword and hacked at the cables that supported the bridge. They severed, but the walk held, so he chopped into that, too.

"Hold!" the first Mundane bawled, seeing what was happening. Of course Chet continued desperately chopping. Chem swung her rope, looping the first Mundane just before he reached solid ground, and yanked him off the walkway.

Still the tough planks of the bridge resisted Chet's sword. This was a job for an axe, and they had none. Imbri wished that Smash the Ogre were here--but he had been delegated to defend Castle Roogna itself, in case of complete disaster, since the palace guard of zombies was no longer there. The Zombie Master had been warned about the missing reserve force of Mundanes, which might even now be circling to take Castle Roogna from the rear. The ogre was also on the lookout for whoever or whatever lurked in the vicinity, enchanting the Kings. So it was a necessary post, and Smash could not be spared for action farther a field.

The next Nextwaver leaped across the opening crevice in the bridge--only to be met by the Zombie Master's own sword. Stabbed neatly through the heart, he died, falling headlong on the ground.

The Zombie Master bent to touch the dead man--and this Mundane revived. He stood up, blood dripping from his chest. "Master!" he rasped.

"Guard this bridge," the Zombie Master ordered him. "Let no living creature pa.s.s."

The new zombie faced the Chasm, sword in hand, while Chet continued chopping. As the next Mundane came across, the zombie drove fiercely at him with that sword.

"Hey!" the next one cried. "You're on our side!"

"No more," the zombie Mundane grunted, and slashed again. The other warrior danced aside, startled--and stepped off the bridge.

Now at last Chet got through the final board. The weight of the crossing soldiers snapped the remaining tie. The bridge pulled away from its mooring and flopped down into the Gap Chasm. Screaming, a dozen Mundanes fell with it.

Hasbinbad stood at the far side. "That won't stop me!" he bawled. "I'll cross anyway and wipe you out! You're finished. King Zombie!"

Imbri swished her tail in fury, but the Zombie Master turned away. "My proper business is reanimating the dead, not killing the living," he said. "I have been responsible for destroying more lives this day than ever elsewhere in my life. I concede the necessity but detest the reality. Pray that the Chasm holds them back, sparing us further malice."

"We'll have to watch them, though," Grundy said. "To be sure. I don't trust Hasbinbad."

"My minions will watch." The Zombie Master walked away from the Chasm. "But we shall be near to reinforce them, until we know the Nextwavers have given up."

Imbri looked back. Hasbinbad the Carthaginian still stood at the brink of the Chasm, yelling and shaking his fist. "...take you out, too, Zombie King!" his voice came faintly. "Just like the Transformer and Firetalk Kings..."

So the attacks on the Kings were definitely connected to the Mundane invasion! But how? Until they had the answer, they could not even take reasonable precautions against it.

They found a tent in the forest near the Chasm that a large tent caterpillar had left. This was the very best natural shelter available, fashioned of the finest silk; tent caterpillars made themselves very comfortable before they magically transformed themselves to winged form and took off. The King retired for necessary sleep, as he had not rested the prior night. Chet and Grundy stood guard by the tent, beating a path around it in a circle, watching for any possible sign of intrusion, while Chem galloped back toward Castle Roogna with news of the battle.

Imbri found a forest glade close by that had good pasturage. She grazed and slept, for it had been long since she had eaten and rested properly, and this constant physical existence was wearing. No wonder the material creatures soon aged and died; they simply wore out!

After an hour's munching and cogitation--grazing was always the best time to chew on concepts, between snoozes--Imbri became aware of the approach of another animal. It was the day horse. She nickered to him gladly, discovering that she had missed him these past two hectic days. "Where have you been?" she projected.

"Staying well away from the Mundanes," he replied in the dream. "They have been coming south, frightening me; I think they are chasing me down."

"You're beautiful, but not bold," she informed him. "We had two battles with them, and have halted them only at the Gap Chasm."

"I know. I heard the clamor. Have you really stopped them?"

"I think so. We cut the main bridge across the Chasm, and they don't know about the invisible bridge to the east. If they try to climb down through the Gap, the Gap Dragon will get them. They've already lost about forty more men today."

"Xanth won't be safe until all of them are gone, especially the Horseman."

Imbri remembered the double warning to beware the Horseman, and understood the horse's personal concern. She had felt those spurs herself! Still, she wasn't sure he was the worst threat. For one thing, there had been no sign of him among the Mundanes recently; he must be with the reserve force, way up in northern Xanth, so was no present threat. "Especially Hasbinbad, too," she amended.

"He's just a brute man. He drives straight ahead and hacks away at anything. But the Horseman is devious and clever; he is the true leader and your real enemy."

The day horse certainly was hung up on that! "But we haven't seen him since we escaped the Punics."

"That means he's up to something. Until you nullify him, you'll never sleep securely."

Imbri didn't argue further. If the Night Stallion and Good Magician Humfrey both felt the Horseman was the real danger, he probably was. But in what way? That wasn't clear at all. What could even the smartest, least scrupulous Mundane do to harm a Kingdom of magic?

They grazed together for an hour. Then, as night came on, the day horse departed, traveling south, away from the Mundanes, seeking his safe haven. Imbri snorted indulgently to herself. He was excellent company, but he had his idiosyncrasies. The Mundanes couldn't get him as long as they were north of the Chasm. And if they came south of it by some infernal miracle, all he had to do was run; no man afoot could gain on a healthy horse, and the trees of the jungle would block an attack by bows and arrows.

Imbri returned to the Zombie Master's tent at night, phasing through trees and hillocks. She found Grundy alert; he spotted her the moment she returned to material form. "You don't catch me sleeping on the job, mare!" he said, smirking. "Though if you stayed invisible, I'd have a problem. I'll admit that much."

"Perhaps I should maintain invisible guard," Imbri sent.

"No, you have to graze and rest yourself," the golem said, perhaps not wanting to share the honor of guarding the King.

"I could check invisibly every hour or so."

"Well--" Then Grundy had a notion. "Could I go with you when you do?"

"Certainly. You would be invisible, too."

"Goody! Let's check now."

Imbri let him jump on her back. Then she phased out of sight and walked through the tent wall. The Zombie Master was sleeping peacefully. Imbri sent a dream into his mind. "h.e.l.lo, your Majesty," she said in her dream form, this time a reasonably well-preserved female zombie. "It's only Mare Imbrium. Are you comfortable?"

"Quite comfortable, thank you, mare," the King replied. "Except that I miss my family. Do you think you could put them in this dream?"

"Certainly," Imbri said, her zombie image shedding a hank of moldy hair in approved fashion. She concentrated, and in a moment Millie the Ghost appeared, somewhat faintly, but quite beautiful, radiating s.e.x appeal.

"Oh, Jonathan!" Millie said. "I love you so much!" She opened her arms to him.

"Now this is what I call a good dream!" the Zombie Master exclaimed, encompa.s.sing her. Their love had endured the eight hundred years while he was a zombie and she a ghost; evidently the flesh had not weakened it. Imbri, having recently made the transition to mortality herself, could understand this better than she might have before she left dream duty. There was a special intensity to physical existence that insubstantial creatures could not experience.