Night Mare Part 13

The day horse, wary of populated places, begged off entering the castle itself. "People tend to want to catch me and pen me," he explained in equine language that Grundy translated for the nonequines.

Chameleon was sympathetic. "I understand," she said. "The Mundanes penned Imbri." She dismounted, then threw her arms about the horse's sweaty neck, giving him an affectionate hug. "Thank you so much, day horse!" She kissed his right ear.

Horses did not blush, but this one tried. He wiggled his ear, snorted, and scuffled the ground with a forefoot. He flicked his tail violently, though there were no flies near. Then he turned on two hooves and trotted away, seeking his own place to graze and rest.

"It's easy to like a pretty woman," Grundy remarked somewhat wistfully. "Even if you are a horse."

And easy for a mare to like such a horse, Imbri thought to herself. He was such a beautiful, nice, helpful animal. If only he were smarter!

Chapter 7: The First Battle.

King Dor was waiting for them. He listened gravely to their report, making careful note of the numbers and armament of the enemy as Ichabod reported them. Imbri was amazed to discover how observant the Mundane scholar had been; he had noted everything relevant, and was able to fill in from his wide background information. It seemed Xanth now knew more about the Mundanes than the Mundanes knew about Xanth.

"The Carthaginian mercenaries were--are--redoubtable fighters," Ichabod concluded. "They had excellent leaders.h.i.+p, and were accustomed to carrying on, on their own with very little support from the home city. They dominated the western half of the Mediterranean Sea, and even the Romans were unable, generally, to match them in battle." He broke off. "But I wander too far a field, as is my wont. My point is that these are formidable foemen who are p.r.o.ne to feed captives to their bloodthirsty G.o.d Baal Hammon. You must not give them any quarter. I dislike advocating violence, but I see no peaceful way to abate this particular menace. Fortunately, they have no weapons with which you are unfamiliar, except perhaps that of treachery."

Dor shook his head heavily. He seemed to have aged in the three days Imbri's party had been away, though he had caught up on his sleep. "I had hoped it would be otherwise, but a Wave is a Wave. We shall fight with what resources we have. So there are about six hundred Nextwavers remaining, armed with swords, spears, and bows. This is too great a number for us to handle by ordinary means. I have marshaled the old troops of King Trent's former army, but I am skeptical about their combat readiness. What we really need is the help of some of Xanth's more ferocious animals, such as the dragons. In Xanth's past they have been known to help us out of bad situations. But so far, this time, they have rejected my overtures. I think they might have been more positive toward King Trent, as his power is more compelling than mine. The dragons seem to feel that if men wish to kill men, this will make things easier for dragons."

"Wait till the Nextwavers ravage Dragon Land," Grundy muttered. "Then the beasts will take notice."

"That may be too late for us," Dor said. "In any event, it is not just the dragons. The goblins, who really are more manlike than beastlike, told our messenger to go soak his snoot."

"The goblins don't want to get drafted for war," Imbri sent, remembering the last bad dream she had processed.

King Dor concentrated on a map of Xanth before him. "We expect the Mundanes to drive for Castle Roogna first. That is where the Mundane city of Rome is in the land they thought they were invading, so naturally they see it as the target. Unfortunately, they are correct; if they conquer or destroy Castle Roogna, Xanth will have no central focus for resistance. Dragon land and Goblin land are in central Xanth; if the Nextwave flows down the west coast, it will miss those regions. So the dragons and goblins are not worrying. Since the main human regions are in the west, we must bear the brunt." He ran a hand over his hair, which seemed already to be thinning. "I wish King Trent were well; he has the tactical ability to handle this sort of thing."

There it was again. Even King Dor lacked confidence in his ability. The loss of King Trent had been a terrible blow to Xanth--as it seemed the enemy leader Hasbinbad was well aware. The, Horseman had done a good reconnaissance.

"The Gap Chasm will stop them," Grundy said.

"It may, if we take down the magic bridges. I don't want to do that except as a last resort. Those bridges are hard to restore. Good Magician Humfrey supervised the installation of the main one, and he's not young any more."

"He never was young," Grundy said. "I think he was born a wrinkled, hairless gnome. But you do have a point. I think the Gorgon pretty well runs his castle now. I'm not sure I'd trust a bridge whose construction he supervised today."

"So I shall lead King Trent's old army to intercept the Mundanes north of the Gap--"

"Not you. Dor!" Chameleon exclaimed, alarmed.

"But, Mother, I'm the King!" he protested somewhat querulously. "It's my job to lead the troops."

"It's your job to govern Xanth," Grundy said. "If you go foolishly out to battle and get yourself killed, where is Xanth then?"

"But--"

"Listen to them, your Majesty," a voice said from the doorway. It was Queen Iris, garbed in black. "I know what it is like to be halfway widowed; I don't want my daughter to learn."

Dor smiled wanly. "I'll try to hang on to my life. I'll stay out of the actual battle. But I must be there with the troops. I can not do less than that."

As antic.i.p.ated, the Nextwave flowed down the western side of Xanth, avoiding the deadly central region and the monsteriferous coastal region. The Horseman, obviously, had scouted out their best route--the enchanted path that trade parties used to reach the isthmus that was the only access to Mundania. Now that enchantment was helping the enemy force to drive directly for Castle Roogna.

Most creatures of Xanth thought of the historic Waves as sheer ravening hordes of Mundanes, and the current Wave resembled that notion closely enough. But it was evident that this force had considerable expertise supporting its violence. The Mundanes were quickly learning how to handle the hazards of Xanth and how to use beneficial magic.

The quiet North Village had to be evacuated hastily before the Wave swamped it, and the centaur village south of it was similarly abandoned. These local centaurs were less prudish about magic talents than were those of distant Centaur Isle and were quite helpful to the human Villagers, carrying the aged and infirm. In return, the human folk used their magic talents to facilitate the travel of the centaurs, conjuring food and tools as needed. It was a fine cooperative effort. Imbri knew that Dor's paternal grandparents lived in the North Village, and the sire and dam of Chet and Chem Centaur lived in the centaur settlement, so this effort was important to those who were at Castle Roogna in a personal as well as a tactical sense. Faces were turning grim at the notion of handing these areas over to the enemy, but it was a necessary evil.

Queen Iris was deputized by King Dor to supervise the evacuation of those regions. She spent day and night in the bedroom with unconscious King Trent, using her enormous powers of illusion on behalf of the welfare of Xanth in the manner King Trent would have asked her to. She projected her image to every household of the Village, warning each person of the danger and making sure that person left. Iris could actually perceive these people, and they could perceive her; to that extent her illusory images were real. It was indeed difficult to ascertain exactly where illusion left off and reality began. She spoke calmly but certainly, making sure that important belongings were taken and that nothing of possible advantage to the Mundanes was left behind.

Because she could also perceive the progress of the Wave, though this was at the fringe of her range, the people had the confidence to evacuate in an orderly manner, not rus.h.i.+ng wastefully, while also not delaying overlong.

But the Queen was working too hard. Her use of illusion at such range was like a horse galloping cross-country; it required a lot of concentration and energy. Iris would not rest herself at night, insisting on checking and rechecking every detail. Her illusion-figures were blurring. Iris was no longer in the flush of youth; she was as old as King Trent. This enormous effort without respite was apt to put her into a state no better than that of Trent.

Finally King Dor sent Imbri in to her, carrying a basket of food and drink, with instructions to make the Queen take a needed break. King Dor did not feel right about giving orders to his mother-in-law, which was why he asked Imbri to handle it. His reason for choosing her was seemingly superficial--her ability to project dreams resembled the Queen's ability to project illusions. Perhaps there would be rapport. Imbri was glad to try.

Imbri entered the bedroom and set the basket down, releasing the strap she had held in her teeth. "Queen Iris, I have brought refreshment," she sent. "You must eat and drink."

Iris paused in her labor of illusion. "Don't try to fool me, mare," she snapped. "There's sleep potion in that beverage."

"So there is," Imbri agreed. "Your daughter put it in. But she says she will watch her father while you rest, if you are willing."

"Her place is with her husband, the new King," Iris said, softening. "I know she loves her father. She doesn't have to prove it to me."

"Please--take the rest. The Villagers can travel now without you, and your talent may be needed later. There are people in charge like Dor's grandfather Roland, of the Council of Elders, and Chester and Cherie Centaur, who tutored King Dor in literacy and martial art. They can handle it now."

"In fact, Irene loves Trent more than she loves me," Iris grumbled. But she ate the cake and drank the coconut milk provided, and allowed herself to get sleepy. "You watch the King," she said. "And don't send me any bad dreams! I have more than enough already."

"No bad dreams," Imbri agreed.

But she did send the Queen a good dream, of the Villagers and centaurs arriving safely south of the Gap Chasm and finding temporary homes in other villages and on other ranges.

"Don't try to fool me!" Queen Iris said in her sleep, catching on. "I deliver illusions to others; I prefer reality for myself."

"You are brave," Imbri sent.

"I'll have none of your false flattery either!" the Queen retorted, threatening to wake up.

"I didn't say you were nice," Imbri said in the dream, taking the form of an older woman, one with whom the Queen might be comfortable. "I said you were brave."

"It takes no courage to project pictures to others; you should know that."

"To seek reality," Imbri clarified. "I send my images inside the minds of others, rather than outside, as you do, but I, too, prefer to know the truth, which may not be at all like a dream. Many people do prefer illusion, however."

"I appreciate your effort," the Queen said. "You're trying to keep me asleep, and I suppose I do need it. I can't serve Xanth well if I am overtired." Then she brought herself up short. "Xanth? Whom am I fooling? I said I sought reality, but this is illusion! I never cared for the welfare of Xanth! I always wanted to rule it, which is an entirely different matter. But no Queen is permitted to rule Xanth, no matter what her talent."

"Ichabod says Xanth is a medieval Kingdom," Imbri's image said. "He thinks that eventually it will progress to equal rights for women."

"Is the King all right?"

Was this a deliberate s.h.i.+fting of subject, or merely the meandering of an overtired mind? Imbri checked King Trent. "He is unchanged."

"Do you know, I only married him so I could be Queen. If one can not rule, the next best thing is to be married to the one who does. It was a marriage of convenience; we never fooled each other that there was love between us. He had to marry because the Council of Elders who made him King required it; he married me so as to eliminate Magician-level dissension."

"But surely--" Imbri started to protest.

"I have my faults, and they are gross ones, but I was never a hypocrite," the Queen insisted. "I craved power more than anything else," and Trent craved power, too. But he did not want to remarry, and when he saw he had to, he refused to marry for love. So he made the deal with me, as I was unlovable. That was perhaps almost as potent an a.s.set as my magic; if his dead Mundane wife was watching, she would have known I was not capable of replacing her in his esteem. He was, in fact, punis.h.i.+ng himself. I knew it--but the truth is, I wasn't looking for love either. So I was happy to prost.i.tute myself for the appearance of power and distinction--though it wasn't prost.i.tution in any literal sense. He had no physical desire for me."

Imbri was embarra.s.sed by these revelations, but knew the Queen was unwinding in her sleep. Long-buried truths were bubbling to the surface. It was best not to interfere. "Horses don't look for love either," she said. "Just companions.h.i.+p and offspring and good pasturage."

The Queen laughed. "How well you define it night mare! That was what I sought, in addition-to power. And King Trent gave me all those things, in his fas.h.i.+on; I can not complain. He was known in his youth as the Evil Magician, but he was in fact a good man. Is a good man."

"And a good King," Imbri agreed. "I understand this is the best age of Xanth since King Roogna's time."

"True. King Roogna fought off the Fourth or Fifth Wave, I misremember which, and ushered in the golden age of Xanth. He built this fine castle. We call the present the silver age, but I suspect it is as gold as the other was." She paused reflectively. "It is strange how things work out. I married Trent from contempt, thinking to use him to achieve subtle power for myself. But he was stronger and better than I thought, and instead of dominating him, I was dominated by him. And strangest of all, I discovered I liked it. I could have loved him...but the one love of his life died before he returned to Xanth. He had had a son, too. Some alien disease took them both; he never spoke about it. He would have felt guilty if he ever loved again. So he was true to his design, while I was not. How I envied that unknown, deceased Mundane woman!"

"But you have a child by him!" Imbri protested.

"That signifies less than it might," the Queen said. "Xanth needed an heir, in case there should be no Magician when Trent died. Someone to fill in, to occupy Castle Roogna until a Magician showed up. So Trent had to come to me. He was so disturbed by it that I had to invoke my illusion to make it appear to be two other people, not him and me. That was how we conceived Irene."

Imbri was shocked. "A mating of convenience?"

"Again you phrase it aptly. It was real for me, but not for him; he was only doing his duty. But after Irene came--not even a Sorceress, and not male, a double failure--I think there was no conflict there. He could love another child, for it is possible for a man to have several children without denying any of them. The girl was no threat to his memory of his son. He loved Irene. And sometimes, I think, he almost loved the mother of Irene."

"Surely so!"

"And now he is gone, or temporarily incapacitated--that is one illusion I must cling to!--and I can play the role I am supposed to: that of the grieving, loyal wife. Because it is true. A marriage of convenience turned secretly real-- for me, at least. And I can do what I can for the good of Xanth, because that is what he would be doing, and now I can only realize myself through him." She grimaced. "I, the original feminist! How utter was my fall, the worse because it is unrecognized."

"I don't see that as a fall," Imbri said.

"You are a mare." But the Queen smiled, accepting the comfort. "I would give anything to have him back, on any basis, or to join him in his ensorcellment. But it seems that is not my decision to make, any more than any of the other crucial decisions of my life have been."

Queen Iris sank then into a deeper sleep, and Imbri let her descend below the threshold of dreams, gaining her precious rest. Imbri had not suspected the depth and nature of Iris's feeling and had not sought such knowledge, but was glad she had learned of it. Truly, human folk were more complex than equine folk!

In the same period of a few days. King Dor's hastily marshaled and outfitted army prepared to meet the enemy onslaught. Everyone knew that King Trent could have organized an effective campaign--but King Trent was sadly out of it. People lacked confidence in Dor--but he was the only King Xanth had. Was he enough?

Dor accompanied the army north, along with his private bodyguard composed of long-term boyhood friends. He rode Chet Centaur, who was armed with a fine bow, spear, and sword, and who could magically convert boulders to pebbles, a process he called calculus. Chet's sister Chem was along, too, for her magic talent of map projection was invaluable for charting the positions of Xanth and Nextwave troops. Chem carried Grundy the Golem, whose ability to converse with living creatures complemented King Dor's ability to talk with inanimate things; together they could ama.s.s a lot of information in a hurry. Smash the Ogre also came. He now resembled a large, somewhat brutish man, for he was half man by birth. But when the occasion required, he could still manifest as the most fearsome of ogres. Since he could not readily keep pace with the centaurs afoot in man form, Imbri served as his steed. She knew Smash from the time he had visited the world of the gourd. He had terrorized the walking skeletons, but had been gentle with her, and in a devious manner she owed her half soul to him.

Of course, Imbri knew Chem in an even closer manner. It was half of the centaur filly's soul she had. This was the first time Imbri had encountered her since that exchange.

They trotted side by side, following King Dor and Chet. Chem was a pretty brown creature with flowing hair and tail and a slender, well-formed human upper torso. Imbri liked her, of course, but felt guilty about the soul. So as they moved, she conversed by dream privately with the filly.

"Do you remember me, Chem? I have half your soul."

"I remember. You helped us escape the Void. Without you, we would have been doomed, for nothing except night mares can travel out of that awful hole. Now you are helping Chameleon, aren't you?"

"She doesn't like battle, but wants to safeguard her son Dor, so she delegated me to carry the ogre. I think that makes sense, in her fas.h.i.+on."

"Yes, I know. My folks wanted me to stay at Castle Roogna with the wives--Queen Iris, Queen Irene, Chameleon, and Smash's wife Tandy, who is as nice a girl as I know. But I'm not married, and I don't feel quite at home with the wifely types. They live mostly for their males."

Imbri remembered her conversation with Queen Iris. "They seem to like it that way."

"I can't see it. So I persuaded King Dor he needed me at the front."

Imbri's mental image of another female centaur laughed. She liked this creature better than ever! "Now that I'm a day mare, I suppose I should return your soul--"

"No, it was a fair exchange, as these things go," Chem said. "As I said, without your help, and the help of those other two night mares. Crises and Vapors--without them, Smash, Tandy, and I would not have been able to resume our normal lives. My half soul is regenerating nicely now, and I hope your half soul is doing the same."

"It may be," Imbri said. "I don't know how to judge. I was always a soulless creature before."

"Some of the best creatures are soulless," Chem said. "I don't know why souls should be limited to human and part-human creatures. Some dragons are more worthy than some Mundanes." Her gaze flicked to Imbri's rider. "And even some ogres are good people."

"I caught that!" Grundy exclaimed. "They're talking about you. Smash, in dreams."

"And why not?" Smash inquired mildly. "They're friends of mine."

"Aw, you don't even think like an ogre any more. You're no fun," the golem complained. The others laughed.

"And there may be some reason for you to have that half soul," Chem concluded privately in Imbri's dream. "Often these things turn out to have greater meaning or direction than we at first appreciate. I like to think that someday my shared soul will help you as greatly as your a.s.sistance helped me. Obviously it won't rescue you from the Void, but--"

They spied a harpy sitting on a branch of a pepper tree. The marching troops had skirted this tree generously, so as not to catch the sneezes. The harpy seemed to be immune, perhaps because she was already fouled up with dirt. "Hey, birdbrain!" Grundy called in his usual winning manner. "How about doing some aerial reconnaissance for us?"

"For you?" the harpy screeched indignantly. She had the head and b.r.e.a.s.t.s of a woman and the wings and body of a buzzard. This one was fairly young; were it not for the caked grime, her face and form might have been tolerable. "Why should I do anything for your ilk, you blankety blank?"

Imbri and Chem stiffened, the latter's delicate sh.e.l.l-pink ears reddening, and Smash turned his head, for the blanks had not been exactly blank. Harpies were as foul of mouth as they were of body, and that was about the limit of foulness in Xanth.

"For the greater good of Xanth, fowlmouth," Grundy called back, being the fastest to recover from the verbal horror that had spewed like festering garbage from the harpy's mouth. Indeed, he seemed to be mentally filing the terms for future use, though there were few if any occasions where he might safely do so. "To help stop the invading Mundanes from ravaging everything."

"The greater good of Xanth can go blank up a blankety blank, sidewise," the harpy retorted. "It's no blankety doubleblank to me."

Again it took a moment for the terminology to clear. Even the pepper tree was turning red. If there was one thing harpies were good at, it was bad language.

"There will also be a lot of carrion after the battle," Grundy said. "Gooey, gooky corpses steaming in the sun, swelling and popping open, guts strewn about--"

The harpy's eyes lighted with dismal fires. "Oh, slurp!" she exclaimed. "It makes me unbearably hungry!"

"I thought it might," Grundy said smugly. Strangely enough, no one else looked hungry. "All you have to do is fly by the enemy positions and report where they are and how many--"

"That's too much blank blank work!"

"Spiked eyeb.a.l.l.s, chopped livers, severed feet--"

"I'll do it!" the harpy screeched, licking her dirty lips. She launched from the tree, stirring up a huge cloud of pepper, and flapped heavily north.

"But the Mundanes may shoot her down with an arrow," Chem protested without much conviction.

"The smell will keep them beyond arrow range," Grundy said facetiously. It occurred to Imbri, however, that he might be right; it took some time to get used to harpy scent.