Five Portraits (20 page)

Well, what would be would be. Tonight would be the test. The King expected them to try to escape, and to fail. If they did fail, he well might achieve his desire. The thought appalled her, but she was a realist.

As darkness closed, the children quietly roused. No words were spoken; Firenze simply took Astrid's hand. He led her to the bathroom, where there was a laundry chute. They would go down that.

Fortunately the chute was narrow enough so that they could push against its sides to let themselves down slowly. It was dark, but Astrid could see reasonably well in the dark, as could Squid and Myst. The boys seemed to be able to manage by feel. Astrid suspected that they had fathomed the route in their Communing, so they knew where they were going regardless of any illusion. Most of the illusion was nullified by the fact that they weren't using their eyes anyway.

They crossed what must be the laundry room, now deserted, and came to what might be a large air-circulating vent. This was a thoroughly modern castle; it seemed the Dragon King wanted only the best. They crawled along the tubing. Then they paused as Firenze made a faint light with his head, so that Santo could see to make two small holes. Then they lifted out a loosened panel and climbed down into a cellar region. Astrid was glad the children knew where they were going, because she would have been thoroughly lost even if she had known the route.

Now they came to a lighted but deserted cave, perhaps below the castle foundation, never filled in. It was crawling with nickelpedes. But the children walked right through it. The nickelpedes were an illusion! No one in his right mind would have gone here. How had the children known?

Then Myst dissolve into fog and floated toward a wall—and through it. That, too, was an illusion. Squid assumed her natural form and followed her, feeling the floor with her tentacles. Between the two of them, they were having no trouble with the illusion. The two moved slowly onward, and the others followed them, silently.

They came to a blank wall. Was it an illusion? No, this one was solid. Myst sifted through a crack in it, then returned to explore another crack. She paused by the third crack: this was the one.

Santo approached the wall and focused. A hole appeared in it. Astrid was glad she had seen to it that he got good rest so that he was able to hole stone without soon tiring. The hole enlarged until it was big enough for them to crawl through. They did.

The other side was simply another section of the foundation. They walked along the rough passage formed by supportive walls until they came to another dead end. Then Myst went to work again, locating the exact place it could be safely holed, and Santo holed it. They crawled through.

This time there was water beyond. The back of the castle was built up from a moat or river, as some were. Was there a moat monster?

There was. A huge greenish snoot appeared. Firenze's head started to heat, and Santo oriented to make a deadly hole.

“Don't.” It was a voice behind them.

They whirled. There were two figures: Wesla Werewolf and Goldie Goblin. Astrid removed her glasses.

“Don't!” Goldie repeated. “We're not stopping you. We want to escape too. We followed you without telling, or there would have been an army of trolls here now. We can help you. Just let us go home once we're clear of here.”

Astrid hesitated. Could they trust these two, or was this merely a tactic to delay them while trolls closed in?

“We'll show you,” Goldie said. “We'll tell Moatie you're friends.”

Beside her, Win nodded. They children knew.

“Do it,” Astrid said tightly.

The two forged out into the shallow water. “Moatie!” Goldie called. “We're friends. You remember us. We gave you treats, dropping them from the turret.”

The monster eyed them. It nodded. Then it sank silently back into the deeper water.

“Where do we go from here?” Astrid asked the children.

The children linked hands. “We wait for the Dragon King,” Firenze said.

“We what?” she asked, startled.

“Please don't turn us in to him!” Goldie begged, terrified.

“Of course we won't,” Astrid said.

“His spies saw where we escaped,” Santo said.

“Too late to stop us,” Squid said.

“He's mad,” Win said.

“He'll try to burn us all up,” Myst said.

“That will be better than if he captures us,” Wesla said seriously.

“So why are we waiting for him?” Astrid demanded, exasperated.

“You'll see,” Firenze said with the type of smile normally seen on the snoot of an attacking dragon.

“They know what they're doing,” Astrid told the goblin and werewolf. “We have to trust them.”

The two did not look greatly reassured.

“What
are
you doing?” Astrid asked the children.

“We have to fight the dragon,” Santo said. “But my talent is tired from making holes through stone.”

“I can dive to save myself, but that wouldn't save anyone else,” Squid said.

“My mist would just evaporate in the fire,” Myst said.

“And my hot head wouldn't stop long-distance strafing,” Firenze said.

“So it's up to me,” Win said.

Astrid realized that Win had spoken out of turn, letting the others give their reasons. But all of them had known. “Myst will fend off the dragon,” she told Goldie and Wesla. She hoped.

There was a light in the night sky. It was a streak of fire emitted by a huge dragon. The Dragon King was coming.

Firenze and Santo took hold of Win's arms and held her up against the castle wall, facing outward. “Get down,” Squid said. “Hang on.”

Astrid, Myst, Goldie, and Wesla got down in the cold water and grabbed onto outcroppings of the foundation.

A wind started. Astrid realized that it was from Win. But her wind never had any backlash; it really originated from her body. Why were the boys holding her?

The dragon evidently spied them in the gloom. He oriented, coming in for a strafing run. A terrible jet of fire shot toward them. The goblin and werewolf quailed.

The wind leaped into gale force. The fire wavered and bent aside.

Then the wind became hurricane force. It blasted at the dragon, causing him to pause in the air despite flying vigorously forward. But he was determined, and put on more power, resuming his advance.

The wind climbed to tornado force. The shaft of air from Win was a straight column, but the air around it was still, and where the two touched there were tight screws of friction. The surface of the water was whipped into a lather by the surrounding turbulence. Spume splashed into the wall, drenching the children there.

Now Astrid saw why the boys were holding Win. It was to prevent her from being blown away by the whirlwind!

The dragon was literally blown out of the sky. He fell tumbling, his fire trailing in a corkscrew of light. He splashed into the water.

But he wasn't finished. He righted himself, there in the roiling cloud of fog, lifted his snoot, and inhaled.

“Dead ahead,” Squid said. “Down.”

The boys aimed Win ahead and down. The spear of air shot directly at the dragon, blasting him out of the water. He flew backward, spinning out of control, disappearing into the darkness, leaving only a corkscrewing pattern of dissipating fire.

Now at last the wind diminished. Win had done the job, but now she hung loosely between the boys, unconscious. She had given her all.

Myst scrambled up and across to hug Win. “She's all right,” she reported. “Just pooped.”

“We have to move on before he recovers,” Firenze said.

“We have maybe fifteen minutes,” Santo said.

“Let me help,” Wesla said. “I can carry her.” She got up, went to the girls, and picked Win up, cradling her like a baby.

“We never saw the like,” Goldie said, awed. “Such a little girl.”

“They are remarkable children, all of them,” Astrid said. “I knew I couldn't let the dragon have them.”

“This way,” Squid said, swimming in her natural form.

“He will come after us,” Wesla said.

“My home is not far distant,” Goldie said. “We'll be safe there.”

“We don't trust male goblins,” Astrid protested.

“We have a queen. She'll grant you visitor status.”

“Is this feasible?” Astrid asked.

“It's on our escape route,” Myst said.

It was feasible. They slogged on through the shallow water. Soon they reached a footpath leading out of the water to a hole in the adjacent mountain.

“Not there!” Goldie said. “That's a wormhole.”

Indeed, the blind snoot of a giant worm poked from it. They quickly bypassed it and continued on around the mountain.

A light showed behind them. The dragon had recovered and was questing. “We need to get under cover soon,” Astrid said.

“There!” Goldie said.

It was another hole, this one guarded by a truculent-looking male goblin. “Fresh meat!” he exclaimed, seeing them.

“Goofus, it's me, Goldie, escaped from the Dragon Castle,” Goldie told him. “With friends. The dragon is after us! Tell the Queen!”

Goofus, recognizing her, disappeared into the hole. They followed him into the mountain as the Dragon King spied them and flew down. But almost immediately a squadron of armed goblin males charged out, eager to do battle with the dragon. They had long spears, water bombs, and broad heavily insulated shields.

Astrid and the children collapsed in a warm cave. They were safe. For the moment.

Chapter 10:
Gotcha!

They had hardly gotten settled before the Queen arrived, identified by her crown and royal robe. Her hair was a golden yellow mane, unusual for a goblin. She immediately oriented on Astrid. “Are you the basilisk? I have heard good things of you via the grapevine.” She held up a grape to illustrate that it was literal.

“I am,” Astrid agreed cautiously, hoping this was not more mischief.

“I am Queen Golden Goblin. Welcome to Goblin Annex.”

“I am Astrid Basilisk-Cockatrice. Goldie said it would be all right to come here. We do not man to intrude.”

“We seldom recover captives of the Dragon King alive. Goldie has been battered and ill-used, but she is alive and should recover her spirit in time. She escaped because of you. We appreciate that.”

Astrid smiled. “We can't claim credit. We did not know she was following us.”

“She followed you because you treated her courteously. Not everyone does that, in or out of the Dragon Castle.”

“No one deserves the sort of treatment I suspect she got at the castle. A werewolf bitch also escaped with us. I hope we can arrange for her safe passage back to her Pack.”

“Goldie has already asked for that. She said Wesla treated her kindly, being a fellow captive of an esthetic aspect. That meant unkind male demands. We will see that the bitch gets home safely.” The reference clearly was not pejorative. “Our association with the Pack has been mixed. Perhaps it will improve hereafter.”

“It surely will, Your Majesty,” Wesla said.

“Goldie tells me you did not know her identity.”

“Her identity?” Wesla said. “She was just another captive, like me. A common girl. We got along because we faced a far greater horror than any differences of species or personality we might have had.”

“Ditto,” Astrid said.

“She is my daughter. Princess Goldie.”

Astrid and Wesla looked at her, mute.

“We made no commotion, because that would have been counterproductive. But I was sore of heart to lose her, and measurelessly gratified to have her back. Now relax. Be assured that you will not be ill treated here.” The Queen departed.

“I believe her,” Wesla said. “Now I realize that Goldie was too refined to be common. But the Dragon King would have held her for ransom had he known, and tortured her if it was not promptly paid. He tortured her some anyway; it was routine. But it could have been worse. She had reason to conceal it.”

“She had reason,” Astrid agreed.

Wesla lapsed into wolf form and went to sleep.

Astrid saw to the welfare of the children, then slept herself.

In the morning the goblins had a fine breakfast awaiting them. Then a contingent of armed males supervised by an elite female—Goldie herself—made ready to conduct Wesla safely to Wolf Country.

They both hugged Astrid as they parted. “I knew I could trust you when you spoke well of Wulfha,” Wesla said. “She does not bestow her friendship lightly.”

“We hope to escape Storage,” Astrid said. “But if we do not, and we survive, we hope to return to associate with the Pack.”

“Wulfha would surely like that,” Wesla said. “So would I.”

Then they were gone. “We must move on,” Astrid said to the Queen. “We thank you for your hospitality, but will not impose on you longer.”

“About that,” the Queen said. “Your route, I believe, lies deep within the mountain. We do not go there, though we are underworld creatures. It is complicated and treacherous, buttressed by deadly illusion.”

“We have navigated illusion before. It is predatory monsters that concern us more.”

“We know of none. But of course we have not penetrated far.”

“We hope to find a route to the outside world. This seems to be it.”

The queen shook her head. “There may be something hidden in those awful caverns, but we have no certainty that it is an exit from Storage, other than that of death. I know that the children have remarkable abilities, but I fear this is beyond their competence. I understand the Dragon King was able to obtain some of that illusion to mask parts of his castle, but only the simpler parts. I feel you would be better advised to travel back to Wolf Country.”

That was interesting, but not as fearsome as the Queen evidently thought. “My friends are in Xanth proper. So is my husband. I must return to them if I possibly can. It is also important that the children return. The welfare of Xanth itself may depend on it. I thank you for your concern, but we must make the effort.”

“I understand. Farewell, Astrid Basilisk.”

Then they were on their way. The goblins guided them to a tunnel marked ALL HOPE ABANDON in the farthest reach of their domain and watched grimly as they entered it. This time they had torches they could light when they needed them, though the goblins thought they would not be useful. Astrid wondered why, but did not inquire. The tunnel wall emitted a soft glow, so it was easy to follow.

Before long the tunnel opened into a truly impressive subterranean chamber. Its ceiling was marvelously high and grown with stalactites, while its floor was so far below that it was lost in the darkness. Everything was in shades of gray. From the ceiling dangled assorted ropes, supporting swinging platforms. There seemed to be no way across, yet it also seemed that their route required them to cross.

“I could float across,” Myst offered. “Maybe see what's there.”

“And what if you got caught in a draft?” Astrid asked.

“Trouble,” the girl agreed. Because she would not be able to get out of it by solidifying; she would drop into the fathomless gulf.

“We'd better consult.”

The children linked hands, Communing. Then they separated. “Across,” Firenze said.

“Using the swings,” Santo said.

Astrid remembered that this was the Storage section of the Playground. Naturally they had swings in reserve. But she wasn't clear how they applied.

“Swing from one to another,” Squid said.

“And let them swing back,” Win said.

“For the next person,” Myst concluded.

That seemed treacherous to Astrid, just as Queen Golden had warned. “Over that gulf? Suppose someone falls?”

“It's not as deep as it looks,” Firenze said. He squatted down and put his hand into the void. “Feel.”

Astrid did the same. Perhaps a foot into it she felt hard rock. “Illusion!” she exclaimed. “How did you know?”

“Squid put a tentacle down. But it could be deep farther in, so we don't trust it.”

“So we'll swing,” Santo said.

Astrid gazed at the swings. The nearest one hung tantalizingly close, tied to two stout stalactites above, but just out of reach. “We need a hook, which we don't have.”

Win smiled. She faced the swing. The wind passing her increased, pushing the swing away. Then the wind stopped, and the swing swung back. Close enough for Firenze to catch its rope.

“That isn't big enough for more than one person at a time,” Astrid said dubiously.

“We sense it's part of the magic,” Squid said. “One person per swing.”

“So one person swings out over the gulf,” Astrid said. “What then? The gulf is huge.”

“We catch the next swing,” Win said.

“And the next,” Myst agreed. “A chain.”

Astrid remained supremely uncomfortable with this. “And where does this chain lead?”

“Across,” Firenze said. “Where we have to go.”

Astrid sighed. “I have to trust you, the group of you. But this makes me nervous as bleep.”

They were silent, waiting for her decision.

“Oh, I guess we'll have to do it,” she said without grace. “I just hope your confidence is justified.”

“This part is,” Santo said.

That did not reassure her much. “Who swings first?”

“I do,” Win said. “Then you.”

“Do it,” Astrid said tightly.

Firenze held the swing for Win, and she got on it, standing, holding on to the two ropes. He let her go and she swung forward. She arced out over the seeming gulf. Then back again, and forward, the travel diminishing, until she came to rest directly below the supporting stalactites. Astrid opened her mouth, and shut it again; the children surely had something in mind.

Win stood and blew at the next swing. It moved away from her, then back, and she caught it with one hand. Then she stepped across to the new swing, still holding a rope of the old one. She let go of the old, swinging forward on the new, facing back. She let herself swing slowly to a stop, as before.

“Ready?” she called.

“Ready,” Astrid answered, suppressing her nervousness.

Win blew. She remained still, but the first swing swung away from her. It came to where Firenze could catch it. He held it in place.

Astrid nerved herself and climbed carefully onto the swing, standing. The board was solid and the ropes firm; that much was reassuring. Then Firenze let it go, and it swung forward. She gazed down into the gulf and quickly away again, as it made her giddy. Maybe it was not deep at all, but it looked almost infinite.

She let herself swing back and forth until she came to a halt. What now?

Win turned around and blew at the third swing. Soon she caught it on the back-swing, and transferred again. Then she blew the second swing back to Astrid. Astrid caught it, and transferred. She let the first one go, and it swung back to the rim of the gulf, where Firenze caught it.

Myst was next. But they did not send her on immediately. First Win and Astrid had to move on respectively to Swings Four and Three. They did, and Astrid let Swing Two go, waiting for it to settle.

Then Myst swung forward to catch Swing Two. Now there were three of them on the swings. They had established a kind of procession.

In this manner they proceeded slowly across the gulf. It seemed precarious, but actually the platforms were firm and the ropes provided firm handholds.

When they were strewn out in a line of six directly over the center of the gulf, there was a flicker of motion to the side. Oh, no! It was a small gray flying dragon! Right when they were unable to avoid it.

“Santo, can you hole it?” Astrid asked.

“Sure,” Santo said. He was the fourth in line, after Myst. He focused on the approaching dragon.

The creature continued flying toward them. Now it shot out a thin stream of gray fire.

“Any time now, Santo,” Firenze said. He was the last in line, after Squid.

“I'm doing it!” Santo snapped. “But it's not scoring.”

“Then I had better do it,” Astrid said grimly. She lifted off her glasses and oriented on the reptile. She needed to have it actually look at her face, in order to score. “Hey beastie!” she called. “This way!”

But the dragon ignored her. It flew right toward Santo, who raised an arm to fend it off.

And past him.

No,
through
him.

“Illusion!” he exclaimed. “That's why I couldn't hole it! There's nothing there. Even the fire's not hot.”

That was also why it had ignored Astrid's call, and why her Stare would have had no effect anyway. There was no dragon, just the semblance of one.

Weak with relief, Astrid let her pulses slow. She had been more worried for the children than herself, but regardless, it had been an unpleasant incident. The dragon's purpose might have been to scare someone off a swing, to drop into the void. That was surely mischief, regardless how deep it was or wasn't.

“Let's move on,” Astrid said briskly to cover her uncertainty.

They swung on. Other creatures came, including silent harpies—the lack of screeching was a dead giveaway—a small roc bird, clouds of biting flies, and of course more dragons. All illusions, all quickly gone.

Win came to a divide in the swings. The main swinging path curved gently to the left, but there was a lesser one curving right. She hesitated.

“The right,” Firenze called. “I can feel its relevance.”

Win promptly oriented on the closest small swing to the right and blew it into motion. She caught its back-swing and moved on.

Astrid was uncertain. “The left side swings are larger, and continue across the gulf,” she said. “The right one veers into a blank wall. Are you sure we should take that one?”

“He's sure,” Myst said. “I remember too.”

Astrid did not argue the case further. She simply had to trust what the children knew, as usual, odd as their choice might seem at times.

As they progressed, Astrid looked back, gaining a different perspective on the route not taken. Now she saw that the swings went only so far before stopping. That was the true dead end.

Win caught the last swing before the wall. Was there a ledge there? A hole? Astrid strained to see, but saw nothing.

Win got on the swing and swung forward, directly into the wall. Astrid winced as she collided.

And disappeared. Had she dropped into the gulf? No, Astrid had been watching her throughout. She had simply vanished.

Then the swing came back, and Astrid caught it. It had reappeared—without the child.

“Illusion!” she exclaimed, relieved. “The wall is an illusion!”

The remaining children chuckled. They had known it.

Astrid mounted the new swing and sailed on into and through the wall. She caught the next swing, and sent the old one back through the wall. Win was in the swing beyond, waiting. The line of swings continued on to the far wall.

Before long they were all in this chamber, whose walls were reddish, as were the swings. It seemed that each chamber had its décor.

Then there was a sound. Not loud, but there. A kind of swishing. It seemed to come from empty space well to the side of the line of swings.

Squid sniffed. She had the sharpest senses of all of them: eyes, ears, and nose. “Trouble,” she said.

“What is it?” Astrid asked.

“It smells like a little dragon. No, a big bat. It's not friendly.”