Her Majesty's Wizard #1 (40 page)

   "'Ware.!" cried Sir Guy, and Matt whirled to chop at a tentacle, then another two, then a fourth. He heard a startled, choking oath and whirled back just in time to see two more ropy arms dragging Sir Guy under. He splashed over to the Black Knight and sliced into the muck. A green stain rose, and Matt leaned down to flail in the water till his hand met steel. He locked his grip around at and leaned back, lugging hard; Sir Guy surged up and out like Neptune, spouting bilge. He shook his head, gasping for breath. "We've bested them ... again..."

   "Yeah, but how about our boy?" Matt looked up just as a startled squawk shredded the night. The salamander had dimmed amazingly, to a pulsing glow. With a joyful roar, the fire-pencil swooped down on it.

   "Flame out!" Matt cried. "Idiot! You're aiding and abetting the enemy!"

   But Stegoman had some good sense; his torch winked out, and Matt could just barely make out his form by waning moonlight as he struck the salamander with teeth and claws.

   He's sober, Matt realized, with a surge of relief. He had to be, for that much thinking.

   Stegoman shot past the salamander, raking long furrows in its side with his natural sabers. The elemental filled the night with its steam-whistle screech, flailing at the dragon with a short, stubby leg, ripping scales loose; then Stegoman was turning, flipping over to gouge a bite of the salamander's hide as he passed. The fire-spirit screamed and darted upward; but Stegoman swooped upward faster and dove down at it again, jaws gaping wide. The elemental boomed its terror and fell like a stone. Stegoman roared triumph and followed, crowding the salamander closely, herding it as it tried to dart to one side, then the other. Too late, the fire-spirit saw the river shooting up at it. It slewed to the side, but Stegoman half folded his wings and plunged down like a hawk, landing with all four feet in the salamander's back, claws out. The beast screamed and twisted free-straight toward the river.

   Then the salamander was poised ten feet overhead, bleeding fire from several gashes and a long rip along in its side. It reared back, clawing at Stegoman, bellowing in agony and horror. The dragon hovered just out of range, taking his time, setting himself; then he shot downward and slammed into the salamander. The fire-beast bounced into the water with a shriek that seemed to fill the earth, a terrible scream that raked along Matt's spine and nerves, paralyzing him.

   Water slammed up against his back. He splashed about, thrashing, trying to get back to the sand bar-especially when he realized the water was heating up. An explosion rocked the river, and the waters glowed lurid orange. Steam seethed and hissed, and the water got downright hot.

   "Stegoman! Get us outa here! Before we're poached!"

   The dragon came, huge wings slamming air down in a gale. "Seize my legs!" he bellowed.

   Matt's foot found muck; he leaned his weight on it, sheathing his sword, then jumped to catch the dragon's ankle. He saw Sir Guy hanging onto another leg as the dragon lifted slowly, laboring against the uneven burden, as the water began to boil. It drifted away under their feet; then dry land was beneath them as Stegoman lowered them gently. Turf hit Matt's feet with a jarring shock; he bent his knees. Sir Guy fell, rolling, with a clank and clatter, and rolled up to his feet, gasping, "'Tis done!"

   "Aye," Stegoman rumbled, settling to earth beside them, folding his wings with a minor thunderclap. "Aye, 'tis done." He turned his head toward Matt, eye still lit with battle-glow. "I have won! None can best me in the skies-or can they?"

   He was definitely sober. He wouldn't doubt his own prowess if he were drunk.

   "Nay, speak and tell me, Wizard!" Stegoman commanded. "How could I best the monster that is the master of my breath?"

   "You had a little assistance," Matt admitted. "I decided it was an unequal battle-and Max happened by just then."

   The Demon hummed by his ear. "The salamander's fire now has cooled, and it is dead. The river boils for a mile."

   "Well, the peasants will eat well in the morning," Matt sighed. "I hate to think of all those dead fish, though."

   "Better them than I," the dragon growled, "or the knight, or thine own self." He turned to the dancing spark. "Demon, I thank and praise thee for weakening mine enemy."

   Matt looked up at Stegoman, studying the dragon intently. "You do think you'll be safe flying now, don't you?"

   Stegoman stilled, his glowing eyes burning into Matt's. Slowly, he nodded. "Aye. I am safe in the skies. Wizard, may good fortune shower on thee for returning me my wings!"

   "I'll settle for a lift. The enemy's behind, for the moment, but I don't think it'll take them long to catch up. Are you ready for another trip?"

   The dragon's wings stirred, but stayed folded. "I am," he said judiciously, "though mayhap I should rest.. ."

   "Yeah, you do have a few burns there." Matt frowned at the long streaks of crimson he saw on the dragon's flanks. "And that salamander had claws."

   Stegoman nodded. "Though he was unskilled in their use."

   Matt fumbled in the purse at his belt, singing under his breath:

   "Let a salve for healing all,

   Even burns of first degree,,

   Be within my beck and call!

   Let this wondrous ointment be

   Of an instant-healing brand,

   Here, within my groping hand!"

   a stumbling thing; but now I am what a dragon should be. Lasting fealty do I swear to thee! As long as I live, I shall serve thee and thine heirs."

   "I ... uh... " Matt untied a quick knot in his tongue. " I ... accept. With great and humble thanks, I assure you."

   "Now to your rest, Wizard," Sir Guy said. "And I to mine; for I think that most of the blows I will bear for your sake will fall on us in a very few days."

   Stegoman turned away, spreading his wings, and rose into the sky. His call floated back: "When thou dost call, I will come. Sleep well."

   Matt gazed after him, blinking, trying to remember what he was supposed to do now. Sir Guy took his arm again, turning him away toward the hillside. "Come, then. We must find haven."

CHAPTER 16

   Sir Guy pulled a strip of cloth out of his wallet and bound it around Matt's eyes.

   Why the charade? As far as Matt could tell, they were just headed back toward the hillside.

   Then something brushed his face, all of his face-and all of his body, too. For a few seconds, he felt as if he were wading through molasses that went clear over his head. Then he stepped past it into damp, cool air and stumbled, nearly falling. Sir Guy held him up and whisked off the blindfold. Matt stood inside a small cave, the roof a few feet over his head. It was filled with early morning sunlight. Ten feet ahead, the rock wall made a sharp turn.

   "'Tis a hidden place," Sir Guy explained. "Come, now; I will show you your bed."

   "Uhhh ... just a second." Matt held up a hand, weaving with exhaustion. "I've gotten to be a bug on security lately ... Max!"

   "Aye, Wizard." The Demon hovered before him, lighting up the inside of the cave. Sir Guy took a half step away.

   Matt looked around him, blinking out beyond the cave mouth to the sun-filled valley. Something was wrong there. He frowned, thinking it through, then turned to Sir Guy. "Hey! If this place is so secret I had to wear a blindfold, how come I can see the outside like a picture-window view?"

   "Did you see it ere we came into it?"

   "Well ... no..."

   "Nor will any." The Black Knight smiled faintly. "We need no guard for our portal, Lord Wizard. No sorcerer can find this cave. If any, should stumble upon it, he would see only a hillside; and if, by great misfortune, he should stumble through what seems to be a grassy, boulder-strewn slope to the place where we stand, he would be blinded or dead."

   Matt was suddenly fully awake again. "But how, then ... Sir Guy, I'm still alive. And I can see."

   The Black Knight nodded gravely. "You are my guest, Lord Matthew. No power in this cavern will harm you."

   Matt knew he should be grateful; but he was only numb-and getting number as the reassurance lulled his body, letting the adrenaline ebb and the drowsiness return tenfold. There was another question somewhere there that Sir Guy's answer had raised, but he couldn't quite phrase it; and there was some huge, hidden significance to what the Black Knight had just told him about the cave being hidden, but Matt couldn't think what it was.

   He turned back to the Demon. "Just to reassure me, Max. Guard the door."

   "'Tis a function with which I've some experience," the Demon hummed. "To your rest, Wizard."

   He winked out of visibility, but Matt knew he would stay by the cave mouth, and woe betide the citizen who tried to pass him. He turned back to Sir Guy. "Okay. Where's the bunkhouse?"

   The Black Knight turned away, going into the turn at the end of the cave. Matt followed him-and found himself in what seemed impenetrable darkness, after the glare of daylight. But there was some faint glow from the front. They came out of the tunnel into light-and Matt stood still, staring about him in wonder.

   It was a cavern, lit by a soft bluish light that seemed to come from everywhere and nowhere, filling a long, narrow, high-ceilinged vault. Along the walls stood pedestals four feet square and two feet high, each supporting a great, carven chair. Suits of antique armor sat in the chairs -haubergions, knee-length mail shirts.

   And there were bodies inside the armor.

   They sat upright, leaning against the wall, bullet-shaped helmets on their heads, with nose-guards but no visors. The faces they showed were those of old men, bearded, and very pale. They sat with their eyes closed, still as statues. Maybe they were; Matt had the eerie feeling that he'd stepped into a wax museum.

   Opposite Matt and Sir Guy, at the far end of the hall, there was only one dais, larger than the others. It had to be; the chair it supported was a throne, and a throne for a giant, at that.

   The giant in question was at least seven feet tall and proportionally broader than Sir Guy. His armor was gilded, and a crown circled his helmet. A huge red beard streaked with white spread over his chest.

   Matt tried to shake off the eerie feeling that was stealing over him, prickling his scalp. Somehow, he didn't think it was a wax museum.

   "Aye, they are real; but they are dead." Sir Guy might have read his mind. "Yet their spirits still dwell in those bodies, Lord Wizard, in a magic stillness."

   Stasis, Matt thought.

   "They live," Sir Guy explained, "but they are dead. Let us greet them." He stepped forward, and Matt had no choice but to follow him.

   A great voice echoed from the far end of the hall, seeming to come from a vast distance. "Welcome, Sir Guy de Toutarien! It is long since you have passed here to speak with me!"

   Sir Guy advanced halfway down the hall and knelt. "Forgive me, Imperial Majesty; but the world presses hard upon this land of Merovence, and my skills were needed."

   "Then surely, duty must compel you far from me." There was a suppressed eagerness under the giant voice. "Speak and tell me! Is it time?"

   An eager, rustling murmur passed through the hall, like dry leaves stirred by a late-rising wind-the dead knights, hoping for battle.

   Sir Guy shook his head, almost sadly. "It is not, Imperial, Majesty. The nation can save itself, even in so hard a time as this."

   Matt felt the hair at the nape of his neck prickle. But at least, he knew now where he was-in the tomb of Hardishane, the ancient Emperor. And those of the armored contingent were his Knights of the Mountain.

   He stepped forward, taking his courage in both hands. "With all due respect, Sir Guy-can you be so sure?"

   "Quite sure." The Black Knight gave him a reassuring smile.

   "He speaks aright." Hardishane's voice rumbled with infinite regret. "There is no need for us yet, brave companions."

   The whispering murmur filled the cavern again, a sad, disappointed sigh. It was eerie enough to chill Matt's thoughts for a moment. When they thawed, he began to wonder how Sir Guy had known what an Emperor confirmed.

   And when had Sir Guy Losobal become Sir Guy de Toutarien?
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   "And who is this man you have brought guesting among us?" Hardishane demanded.

   "He is Matthew, rightful Lord Wizard of Merovence, Majesty," Sir Guy answered, "a scholar of words and their power. Yet he is also loyal, courageous in battle, and sometimes humble to a fault. He is stout of heart and hardier than he knows. There is none I would rather have for shield-mate."

   Matt stared at him, amazed to the point of shock.

   "He is, then, worthy," Hardishane pronounced. "And who should be a better judge than Sir Guy de Toutarien?"

   "Your Majesty does me too much credit," Sir Guy murmured.

   "I do not." It was almost a rebuke. "Yet worthy as this wizard may be, he must bide in the chapel the whiles he is among us here."

   Quarantine? Matt wondered. Maybe just a wise precaution, in case the wizard turned out to be a sorcerer.