Night Mare Part 21

The nymph floated up, looking devastatingly winsome by human standards. Imbri had seen the creatures as they were first inflating, dead white and bulging. The night air must have done them good, for now there was color and bounce to match the buoyancy, and intricate little jiggles in private places as they moved. No wonder the Mundane was in sweaty pursuit!

Now the Mundane spied King Bink. "Oh, no, you don't! She's mine!" he cried, drawing his sword. "I chased that divine dream half the night and day!"

"In all fairness, I must tell you two things," Bink said. "First, the nymph is not real. She is a shape from a spell, with no mind at all--"

"I don't care where she's from or how smart she is!" the Mundane said, licking his brute lips. "I'm going to give her the time of my life--right after I get rid of you." He advanced, sword poised.

"Second, I am holding the spell of a Magician," Bink continued, backing off. "It may hurt you or even kill you, if--"

The Mundane leaped, his sword swinging viciously. Bink popped the cork on the vial, pointing the opening at him.

A green fireball shot out, expanding as it moved. It was head-sized as it struck the Mundane in the chest.

The man screamed. The fire burned into his chest with terrible ferocity, consuming it. In a moment the Mundane fell, his chest mostly missing.

Bink stared, looking faint. "Humfrey wasn't playing idle games," he whispered. "He was set to destroy the enemy army!"

Imbri agreed. That had been one deadly weapon! "But it was a choice between the enemy or you," she sent in a supportive dreamlet, glad she had taken the advice to stand well clear. "He tried to kill you when you tried to be reasonable with him."

"Yes. I have steeled myself to that," Bink said. "Still, the stomach is weak. I have seldom killed before, and most Mundanes are not like him. They can be quite civilized ...though I admit this one wasn't."

Already a second pseudonymph was coming, leading another brute Mundane. Bink s.n.a.t.c.hed up another vial. "Halt, Mundane!" he cried. "I have slain your companion!"

"Then I'll slay you!" the Mundane cried. He carried a bow; now he brought out an arrow and nocked it, taking aim.

Bink opened and pointed the vial, as he had the first.

Something sailed out of it as the arrow flew toward him. The arrow struck the object and went astray, missing Bink's head by the span of a hand and plunking into the wall behind him.

Imbri looked at the thing skewered on the shaft of the arrow. It was a bean sandwich. The Mundane had just shot Humfrey's lunch.

The Mundane stared for a moment. Then he emitted a great bellow of a laugh. "You're fulla beans!"

Bink took a third vial. As the Mundane drew another arrow and aimed, Bink pointed and opened it.

This time smoke issued from the container. It shaped into a huge face. The face laughed. "Ho ho ho!" it roared. It was laughing gas.

But the Mundane's sense of humor was limited to laughter at others, not at himself. He shot an arrow through the face at Bink, barely missing. He drew a third. Imbri grew more nervous; these spells were not doing the job reliably.

Bink gave up on the spells for the moment. He ducked through the smoke, drawing his sword, and charged at the Mundane.

The Mundane, realizing that his bow was useless at close quarters, hastily drew his own sword. The two met in personal combat--but the Mundane was much younger and faster.

Imbri stepped forward, knowing she could not stand by and let the King be killed. But as the laughing gas dissipated, a third Mundane appeared, carrying a spear. He closed on the other two people, seeking an opening to dispatch the King.

Imbri charged across, spun about, and flung out a kick with her two hind legs. This caught the spearman in the chest and smashed him back. Imbri knew she had either killed the man or hurt him so badly he would not fight again for a long time. She now had blood on her hooves.

She turned again to help Bink, but he had dispatched his opponent. It seemed he knew how to handle a sword; his skill had bested the Mundane speed.

But already three more Mundanes were entering the tree, weapons drawn. Now the Punic army was arriving in force! Pseudonymphs floated all about, dancing just out of the grasp of the men, jiggling remarkably, causing the Punics to become more aggressive than ever.

"I have to return to magic," King Bink said. "I can't take on the whole Nextwave with my lone sword!" He glanced at the one Imbri had dispatched. "And I can't ask you to risk your hide, either. But it's no longer safe for you to stand away from me; soon there'll be many more Mundanes. So you had better stay close to me; that way the magic is less likely to backlash against you, and may protect you exactly as it protects me."

Imbri did not see that the magic had helped the King much. Protection against being harmed by magic was not the same as being protected by magic. But she agreed; she would be better able to help him if she were close. She could carry him out of the tree if the Mundanes became overwhelming.

Bink picked up a package and tore it open. A score of large rubber bands fell out. Now at last he showed some ire. "What good are these?"

Imbri touched one with her hoof. Instantly it climbed up her foot and tightened about her ankle. It hurt; she had to lift her foot to her teeth to rip it off. Then it tried to clasp her nose.

"Oho!" Bink exclaimed. He stooped to pick one up. It writhed in his hand, but could not manage to close on his wrist. He flipped it at the nearest Mundane.

The band slid over the man's head and constricted about his neck. Suddenly he was choking, turning purple in the face.

"A weapon indeed!" Bink said. He flipped two more chokers at the other Mundanes. One looped about a man's arms, binding him awkwardly; the other caught its man around the waist, squeezing his gut. The bands might be small and harmless when Bink handled them, but were savage when they touched any other flesh!

More Mundanes appeared. Bink tossed the rest of the chokers, then picked up another vial. A knife flew from it, transfixing the Punic. But more was needed, so Bink opened a large, wide-mouthed bottle.

The bottle did not eject anything. Instead it expanded rapidly, until it was big enough to admit a man standing upright. On its side were printed the mystic words CAVE CANEM. Imbri wasn't sure what that signified, but it seemed vaguely threatening.

"So it's a cave," Bink said. "Maybe it will serve. Hey, nymphs--fly in here!" He pointed to the opaque gla.s.s cave.

Obligingly, the buoyant nymphs flew inside. The Mundanes who were able charged in after them. Six men disappeared into the cave.

There was a horrendous growling deep inside, and a medley of screams. Imbri, startled, projected in an inquiring dreamlet--and discovered that the minds of the Mundanes had become truly animalistic, like those of vicious dogs.

"The cave of canines," Bink said. "Remarkable device!"

"Beware of the cave!" Imbri agreed. She didn't like canines; they tended to nip at equine heels and were difficult to tag with swift kicks.

Before long, the gla.s.s cave overflowed. Mundanes spilled back out, doggedly running on four feet, yelping. Their faces looked more canine than human, though Imbri wasn't sure this was very much of a change. The dogfaces scrambled out of the tree, tails between their legs.

Tails? Imbri looked again--but too late. The creatures were gone.

Still the Mundane menace grew. The rest of their army seemed to have arrived in more or less of a ma.s.s, and individual vials were not enough. Some men were distracted by the fleeing canines, and some appeared to have been bitten by those, but there were too many intact Mundanes to stop.

"Time for the ultimate measures," King Bink said.

"Stand by to carry me to safety, Imbri; this may be worse than we antic.i.p.ated."

Imbri stood by. Bink lifted the bag of winds and started to untie it.

A huge Mundane charged at the King, slashing downward with his sword. He missed Bink, who had alertly dodged, but scored on the bound river. The tie was severed cleanly.

Instantly the coil sprang outward as the water was released. The floor flooded, the liquid getting deeper moment by moment. There was a lot of fluid in a river! The Mundanes cursed as their feet were washed out from under them. The one trying to attack the King was dumped and carried away by the torrent.

Then the string tying the mouth of the windbag came loose. The winds roared out of confinement. They swirled around the chamber of the baobab tree and whipped the surface of the rising water into froth. It became hard to stand, and not much fun to breathe.

Imbri tried to find King Bink, but he had been swept by the swirl, along with the Mundanes. Apparently the river, once released, had become a nonmagical force, so could act on him. Perhaps it was merely moving him without hurting him. No two-footed creature could keep on his feet in this! That was yet another, inherent human liability--lack of a sufficient number of feet on the ground. Imbri did not care to gamble that Bink would not drown.

No--as she reviewed what she had been told of his talent, she decided he would not drown, because that fate would have been set up by magic--after all, the river had been magically bound--and therefore his drowning forbidden. But there were Mundanes mixed in that soup with him, and one of them certainly might hurt him, since they had been trying to do that regardless of magic. So her help was definitely needed.

She forged through the frothing water, squinting her eyes against the whirling wind. She did not know in what direction the wind wanted to go, because here in the tree it was still looking for the exit. She found the King. He was holding on to the edge of the Canem Cave. She nudged him, and he shifted his grip to her. He was carrying something that hampered him, but Imbri floated up under him and got him halfway clear of the violent torrent.

Now she half swam, half drifted with the current, moving out of the tree. Mundanes were also being carried along, burdened by their weapons and armor, gasping and drowning in the River Elba. Humfrey had prophesied correctly; able were they ere they saw Elba. She wasn't sure she had the phrasing quite right, but certainly the elements from coil and bag were devastating an army.

Outside the tree, the tide diminished. Imbri found her footing and forged toward higher ground. A few Mundanes were doing likewise. At last Imbri stood on an elevated ridge overgrown with quaking aspen; the timid trees were fluttering with apprehension as the water surged toward their roots. "Are you all right?" she sent to King Bink.

"Tired and waterlogged," he replied. "But whole. However, the battle is not yet over." For more Mundanes were straggling up to the ridge.

"We can outrun them," Imbri sent.

"No. They would only reorganize and march on Castle Roogna, where the women are. It has neither human nor zombie defenses any more. The ogre is there, but he can not be in all places at once. I don't want our loved ones subject to the will of the Punics, treated like pseudonymphs. I must deal with the enemy here, now; I shall not return to Castle Roogna until the threat has been entirely abated."

Imbri could appreciate his sentiment and admire his courage. But Bink was only one man against what appeared to be about twenty surviving Mundanes. He was fifty years old, which was getting along, physically, for a male of his species. He was likely to get himself killed-- and his prospective successor, Arnolde Centaur, was still far away. Yet Bink was the King, and his decision counted.

"I see you have doubts," he said, smiling grimly. "You are a sensible mare. But I am not yet entirely dependent on my own resources. I salvaged the Good Magician's book of Words of Power."

"I hope they are good ones," she sent. "Here come two Mundanes!"

King Bink opened the book as the Mundanes approached him, spears poised. He fixed on the first one. "Oops--I don't know how to p.r.o.nounce it," he said.

"Try several ways!" Imbri sent, for behind the two spearmen other Mundanes were coming, just as ugly and determined. One thing about these Punic mercenaries-- they never gave up! If the King didn't use magic to protect himself, the nonmagical a.s.sault of the enemy would quickly finish him.

"SCHNEZL!" Bink read aloud, with a short E.

Nothing happened. The Mundanes drew nigh.

"SCHNEZL!" he repeated, this time using a long E.

The two Mundanes broke into uncontrollable sneezing. Their eyes watered, their breath got short, and they doubled over in nasal convulsions, trying vainly to blow their lungs out through their noses. Their b.u.t.tons popped off, their belts snapped, and their eyes bugged in and out. They dropped their spears and staggered into the murky water, still firing out achoos. The other Mundanes paused in wonder and admiration at the cannonade. It seemed the King had p.r.o.nounced the Word correctly the second time. Even Imbri felt an urge to sneeze, but she hastily suppressed it and stood closer to Bink. That helped; he did seem to have an ambience of immunity.

"Odd," Bink remarked. "The print has faded from the page. That Word is no longer written there."

"It must be a one-shot spell," Imbri sent. "How many more do you have?"

Bink flipped through the pages of the book. "There must be hundreds here."

"That should be enough." She was relieved.

Another Waver was charging up, sword swinging. Bink read the next Word. "AmnSHA!" he cried, accenting the second syllable.

The Mundane did not sneeze. He continued charging.

"AMNsha!" Bink repeated, this time accenting the first syllable.

Still the Mundane came, seemingly unaffected.

"AMNSHA!" Bink cried, with no accenting and hardly more than one syllable. And ducked as the man's sword whistled at his head. The blow missed.

The Mundane stopped and turned. He looked perplexed. "What am I doing here?" he asked. "Who are you? Who am I?"

"The Word made him lose his memory!" Imbri sent in a pleased dreamlet. "Too bad all the remaining Mundanes weren't within range of it!"

"Good thing you were in contact with me so it didn't catch you," King Bink responded. "Humfrey would have made better use of it and harmlessly abated the entire Mundane threat. My son Dor reported a similar use of a forget-spell eight hundred years ago at the Gap Chasm."

That was another mystic reference to something Dor obviously could not have been involved in. Maybe it was a memory of a dream. "We had better deal with the Mundane," Imbri reminded him in a dreamlet.

King Bink addressed the soldier. "You are an immigrant to the Land of Xanth. You will find a good homestead and a willing nymph, and will settle down to be a productive citizen. Congratulations."

"Yeah, sure," the man said, dazed. He lumbered off in search of his homestead.

But three more Mundanes were coming, and these did not look at all forgetful. The last Word had faded from the page. Bink turned the leaf and read the next one. "SKONK!"

There was a sudden terrible odor. The stench spread out from the sound of the Word, forming a bilious cloud that drifted in the path of the enemy soldiers. Unheeding, they charged into it. They had learned to be concerned about tangible magic, but to ignore mists and apparitions.

Immediately they scattered, coughing and holding their noses. They had received the brunt of the stench, though the peripheral wash was enough to make Imbri gag. That was bad, because horses were unable to regurgitate. A coincidental drift of wind had carried the mist away from the King, so he did not suffer. Coincidental?

The three Mundanes plunged into the water, trying to wash away the smell. A murk of pollution spread out from them, and small fish fled the region. It seemed it would take a long time for the men to cleanse themselves.

Yet another Mundane was attacking as the fog dissipated. This one paused just beyond it, fitting an arrow to his bow.

The King consulted the book. "KROKK!" he yelled at the bowman.

The Mundane changed form. His jaw extended into a greenish snout bulging with teeth. His limbs shrank into squat, clawed extremities. His torso sprouted scales. Unable to hold on to his bow or maintain his balance, he fell forward, belly-flopping on the ground with a loud whomp. He scrambled to the water and paddled away, propelling himself with increasing efficiency by means of a ma.s.sive green tail that sprouted from his hind part.

"He turned into a gator," Bink remarked, impressed. "I didn't know the Good Magician had any transformation spells."

"He collected all kinds of information," Imbri sent. "Many people owed him favors for his services, and he knew exactly where to find useful bits of magic. He's been acc.u.mulating things for over a century. Once I brought him a bad dream about a box of quarterpedes, and he promptly woke and fetched it from the place the dream identified it. I didn't even know what they were and had forgotten the matter until that box turned up in his collection of spells in the baobab tree. He never missed a trick."

"I should have rescued that box," Bink said regretfully. "Maybe when the water subsides--"

Another Mundane charged. He swung a battle-axe with hideous intent. Bink quickly glanced at the book again. "BANSH!" he cried.

The Mundane disappeared, axe and all. These were certainly useful spells, when they worked!

But about a dozen Punics remained on the ridge. They now formed into an organized company and advanced slowly on the King. This was a more serious threat.

Bink leafed through the book, looking for a suitable Word. "If only there were definitions given!" he complained.

A spear sailed at the King. "Dodge!" Imbri sent. Bink dodged. But the spear caught the open book and knocked it out of his hand. He regained his balance and dived for it, but the volume fell in the water. The crockagator forged up and snapped the book into its big mouth with an evil chuckle, carrying it away. The King had been abruptly deprived of his magic defense by nonmagical means. True, the crock had been magically transformed-- but an untransformed Mundane could have done the same thing.

"But see!" he cried, stooping to pick up a floating bottle. It was yellow and warty and somewhat misshapen. "Isn't this the one containing the enormous squash?"

"I believe it is," Imbri agreed. It seemed Bink's talent was helping him compensate for the loss of the remaining Words. Maybe he wasn't being harmed, but just shifted to a more profitable mode, as the Words were highly variable in effect.

"I'll use this; you check the water for any other bottles." King Bink popped the cork, then hurled the bottle at the Mundane formation. The thing grew enormously, as was its nature, until it popped down on top of several Mundanes and squashed them flat.

Imbri found another bottle and fished it out with her teeth. She got some water in her mouth, and it still reeked of Skonk, but that was a necessary penalty. She brought the bottle, to the King as the remaining Mundanes skirted the squash and advanced. He opened the bottle immediately and pointed it at the enemy.