by Andre Norton
As light-bolts blazed, sounds crashed, and weird smells curdled the air of the study, Drop realized that he might possibly call on two other allies for Flax. The very floor boards had been shuddering beneath their feet for some time, and Drop now distinguished one particularly broad bar of shadow near his own feet. It was Cyril the snake, understandably disturbed by the bizarre lights and upheaval, who had abandoned his table base to seek the cause. Drop eased his bandaged hand down until he could tap on Cyril’s questing head. One, two, three, four-there. Cyril should now be alerted to the danger to Flax.
For the last short while, Drop had also become dimly aware of a persistent clicking sound. In a brief lull between spells, he suddenly located the source: Ghost, who had been dozing as usual on a high shelf, had been awakened by the wild activity below, and was snapping his beak in decided disapproval. Drop recalled what Flax had said about Ghost and loud noises. His desperate plan lacked only one other element.
While Skarn and Flax were totally absorbed in their duel by magic, Drop edged quietly toward the desk. At first, he couldn’t locate the tawny bottle he sought, then he recognized it over to one side, where Skarn had thrust it during his search. Extending his free hand, Drop extracted a Keep-Shape lozenge. He succeeded just in time, for Skarn produced a wave of force that flung Flax bodily against a bookcase, temporarily dazing the wizard.
Skarn stepped forward, gloating. “So much for you, you feeble old fool. I have dawdled with you long enough. Feel now my Death Spell, you and your useless apprentice!”
Unluckily for Skarn, he had earlier discarded his fancy riding boots in order to pursue his thievery quietly. When he now strode forward, he planted one stockinged foot flatly on Cyril’s back, prompting the offended snake to rear up and sink his fangs into Skarn’s unprotected leg.
Seizing this splendid opportunity, Drop yelled as loudly as he could, “Ho! Ghost! GHOST!”
The owl, driven to frenzy by all the blinding lights, swooped down from his shelf, talons extended. He landed on Skarn’s head, buffeting the sorcerer with his great soft wings, while yanking cruelly at the man’s long red hair.
Skarn, understandably, yowled under this multiple, totally unexpected attack. As his mouth gaped open, Drop lunged toward the floundering sorcerer and popped the lozenge between his lips.
There was a frozen instant of startled silence, a gasp from Skarn, then a gulp. The tormented sorcerer wrenched Ghost from his head, and would have dashed the owl to the floor had it not twisted from his hands and flown safely to its ceiling shelf.
Skarn gibbered, shuddered, and slowly shrank in size. Drop watched with keen interest to see just what Skarn’s True Shape might be. It was momentarily concealed by the heap of Skarn’s human clothing, then there was a jerky stirring, and tearing aside the fabric, a rather warty yellow-brown demon emerged from the folds.
Flax, by now recovered from his breathless impact against the bookcase, pointed at the demon, pronouncing a stern magical order.
The demon shook its claws defiantly at him, but was summarily vanished, leaving behind a cloud of foul smoke.
“Faugh!” exclaimed Flax, gesturing open all the adjacent doors and windows. “A cleansing breeze should suffice to disperse this. All-much better. And there is one more item that needs to be destroyed-Mistress Wryfern’s gift potion. Although it was intended only to be an innocent diversion, I now perceive what a deadly threat it could pose in wicked hands.” Snatching up the blue glass bottle, the wizard vaporized it in a flash of white light.
From his lofty perch, Ghost emitted a loud hoot of protest.
“My dear Ghost,” said Flax, “and Cyril, and above all, Drop! I thank each of you for your valiant efforts. Had you not assisted when you did, I fear that we all should have perished. You must all be fairly rewarded. Let me see-some nice brown eggs for Cyril, I think, and pickled herring for Ghost and Drop. How does that sound? Where did I put that jar of herring? Was it in the kitchen, or the back storeroom?”
As Drop followed the wizard to aid in the search, he privately regretted only one thing. He had not had the chance to try a bite of the demon, which had smelled most deliriously of mouse.
Of Age and Wisdom by Roger C. Schlobin
There are few tales that remain of the ancient times when dragons and cats ruled the Earth and humanity was no more than a stirring in the genes of screeching monkeys. Of these times-when cats chose to use their enduring power of speech to talk with only the most interesting of dragons and when the two races were united by the Bond of Talon and Claw, Fire and Fur-the foremost remaining epic is of Mei-Chou, the wise silver-mackerel tabby, and Ao Rue, the last of the blue-eyed sorcerer dragons, and how the two fared when the dragons ill-advisedly terraformed the Gobi from its native sea to a desert with the fell power of the Northern Lights. Together, the two battled the vampirism of the mindless Azghun Demons and the power-mad tyranny of Lei-kung and his demented cohort, Han Chung-li. Prominent too of the stories of this forgotten age is that of Ao Rue’s great, undying love for the stunning Nü-kua.
Yet, despite Mei-Chou’s great fame and courage, should she be asked for her favorite tales of these long-forgotten days and if she found someone worthy of her speech, she would humbly tell of the greatness of her aging mentor and father, Lord Chu, affectionately known to her as Chu-Chu. This is her favorite, the one she told the most.
Mei-chou cut through a wide, high-walled canyon as she descended the Mount of God, known as the Bogdo-ola in the old speech. Normally, the chilled air might draw her to thinking of the unknown, remote heights and how cold it was at the twenty-two-thousand-foot summit. No one knew what lived there or how cold it was; the cloud-draped heights defied even the mightiest dragon’s wings. But, at this dark hour, her thoughts were filled with her beloved Chu-Chu, the cats’ shaman, who lay dying in his cave. Despite his matted fur and hollow flanks, her love’s eye always remembered him in the glory of his youth. His dark-blue eyes were almost black. They still shone within the lush fur of his ebony mask. His face and ears were framed by a creamy, camel-colored mane that circled to his full jowls. At least, Chu-Chu liked to call it a mane; Mei-chou thought of it more as a ruff. He’d say ruffs were prissy. But he’d also say that jowls had nothing to do with weight and everything to do with dignity. His mane blended back and down through rich, thick shades of chestnut and sable to black legs, paws, and tail. No color quite separated. They all moved in harmony, one into the other. The changes were so subtle that, when the light changed, there were moments of tan, chestnut, chocolate, and charcoal on his body. His most arresting feature was the oversized fangs that extended down over his lower jaw into the velvet of his chin. He thought they made him look fierce; Mei-chou knew it was only overbite. A Himalayan Sealpoint, Lord Chu insisted he was one of the few felines indigenous to the Gobi. But Mei-chou had heard enough to suspect that he was the product of a momentary lingering between a Black Persian and a Siamese. Cats, for all their proclamations of civilized demeanor, were erotically prone to random couplings, to spontaneous trysts. Perhaps, these passing matings had something to do with their complete immunity to guilt, their absolute freedom from embarrassment.
But now even the wonder of the unassailable Bogdo-ola and Lord Chu’s beauty could not take her mind from her sorrowful thoughts: So old. My Woolly-Bully. Senile, I guess. So fat. Hardly moves at all. His latest mate, Pita, makes his last days soft. Good! More and more he tells his strange, rambling stories, especially the one about the great torn who slew a dragon. Mind wanders more each day. Dragon slaying, indeed! That a cat ever could or would fight a dragon! Such nonsense! Still I wonder if there ever was such a tomcat? Nonsense! As much chance of that as a smart ape!
If Mei-chou had not been so preoccupied, she probably would have heard the raver that waited for her. She was both surprised and annoyed at her lack of vigilance when the demented dragon lurched out from behind a large outcropping of rock. Mei-chou looked right and left. The canyon walls were too far away for her to run.
She couldn’t outrace his fire despite his obvious clumsiness. There was nowhere to go. So she sat down, began to wash her paws, and acted like he wasn’t there at all.
“Now you are mine; fur turd!”
“Oh, hello, did you say something? Who are you?” Of course, Mei-chou recognized Han Chung-li, but she had decided that the best tactic was to keep him off balance. This one is deep dumb. He shouldn’t be too hard to handle.
“I am General Han Chung-li. The rightful and blessed successor to the glorious Lei-kung, you stupid cat!”
“Oh, you’re a general now. Who appointed you?”
“That’s dragon business. Nothing for you sub-creatures to worry about.” Smoke began to rise from his nostrils as his flame brewed. Mei-chou remained calm. Dragons rarely frighten cats. It was considered bad form. Moreover, cats are indifferent to any dragon’s magic, much less this one’s poor excuse for anything, and they fully enjoy the dragons’ narcotic smoke.
“So, what can I do for you, General?” She shifted slightly to try to catch the full effect of the smoke.
Han Chung-li paused for a moment to remember what he was doing on this cold mountain. “I am here to complete Lei-kung’s majestic work, to serve the great power of the Northern Lights, to lead the Azghun Demons to bring dragonkind to its full potential! And Lei-kung had special plans for you cats. You have a place in the master plan. You will serve!”
“Are you sure that’s what you’re here for? I remember you saying something else when I called you and told you to come here.” Now Han Chung-li was doubly puzzled. She was right. He’d come with some other purpose. And now he couldn’t remember her calling him either. “Well, General, while you’re trying to get yourself together, I’ll continue on my way. Catch you later.”
Mei-chou almost believed she’d get past him. He was shaking his head. It looked like he was trying to roll the pieces of his brain into their proper holes. She strolled toward him. Mustn’t show any fear! These primitive types can sense fear. At that moment, an Azghun Demon streaked from somewhere; it hovered before Han Chung-li’s snout. He snapped to attention. With his right talon, he threw a spray of gravel in Mei-chou’s path. “Now, I remember! Prepare to die. You are mine, fur turd!”
“I would have thought you’d learned from Lei-kung that nothing you maniacs think is yours really is. Don’t you know that there are beings and things you can’t own?”
“You won’t confuse me again!” The smoke came in great billows from his nostrils.
“These plans you have. Tell me about them. You know, cats don’t yield to regimentation very well. We don’t care for such things.” Now another development was an added cause for Mei-chou’s concern. Up behind Han Chung-li’s head, she saw Chu-Chu. Sleep and senility were far gone. His eyes were wide; his concentration complete. He was playing out the ageless discipline of the stalk: ears back, body low, tail-fur fat with anger, its tip twitching. His fine, gossamer fur lifting in the faint breeze, he moved on the dragon with murderous intent.
She remained poised, if deeply concerned: He’ll have a heart attack. Where’s Pita? Confidently, successfully fighting fear, she looked up at the rearing dragon, his fire rising like bile. “Dragon, you cannot harm me. I am the First of the First. Friend to Ao Rue, last and greatest of the sorcerers. I summon the Bond of Talon and Claw, Fire and Fur.”
Han Chung-li laughed grotesquely-shrieking. He almost choked on his own joy, drawing in more air than he let out. “Your words are nothing. You inferiors have no minds worthy of note. You are good only for orders and menial tasks. I will think for you! I am the first of the new dragons! We make our own bonds. There will be oaths of fealty and submission to us. All of nature will yield before our superior power and intelligence.” His mouth opened; flames began to lick around his tendrils.
Mei-chou stood firm. So this is how it ends. Cooked by a half-wit! Then, from out of the corner of her eye, she saw Lord Chu spring. She knew the distance was too great-too much age, too much weight.
Lord Chu looked like a dolphin in the sea. His body was stretched out, a smooth blur in the air. Just before he got to Han Chung-li’s head, he opened up. All four legs were fully extended. Every claw caught the red glow of the dragon’s fire. He screamed his success, Han Chung-li’s first sign of disaster. The dragon had no time to turn his head. Chu ‘s front claws stabbed into the dragon’s eyelid. Immediately, his hind legs began to snap up and down. He raked the naked eye with his claws. Han Chung-li wildly swung his head from side to side. His wings beat the ground, throwing great clouds of dust and stone. His pinions and claws ripped splinters and hunks from the granite. He flung fire everywhere, but all his struggles couldn’t dislodge the squalling monster that was taking his sight.
“Run, Mei-chou, run! Hide, hide, until I finish him.”
Mei-chou was paralyzed. All she could see was her Chu-Chu’s beautiful fur charring as fire rushed from Han Chung-li’s snout and ricocheted off the rock.
“Get, girl! Move! For once do as I tell you!”
Mei-chou responded automatically to that old tone. It was kitten and teacher again. Obediently, she turned and ran beneath a ledge into a crevice. Her ears were filled with the fury of the spitting, screaming tomcat. Han Chung-li’s roars filled her with terror. She cowered in her hole, trembling in fear. She was horrified at the thought of life without Chu-Chu: Who will tell me? It’s not time! Too soon! Too soon! Who will care? My poor Chu-Chu.
Suddenly, all noise vanished-the total silence of a world without ears. Despite her fear, concern dragged Mei-chou on her belly back to the canyon. She could see nothing amid the holocaust. It was as if the fire of the earth had punished the mountain. Great shards of rock were thrown and broken everywhere. The white granite was cursed with blackness. There were places it had melted and run, forming macabre sculptures of beings beyond madness. All had been scoured by evil, scourged by a dark pain. Mei-chou fell in upon herself in despair: He is gone. I didn’t help! Then, something moved and moaned beneath the thrown slabs. As she ran to it, she almost didn’t recognize him. So little of his rich colors remained. He was black with char, too brittle to touch. So little blood. All burned away. Yet a shadow of bright life remained. Lord Chu’s voice was faint ashes: “Couldn’t get to that other eye. Couldn’t get across the snout. So far, seemed so far: Dragons must be wider between the eyes these days. Are you all right, kitten. You were my best student! My sweetest child!”
“Lie still; I am here.” With all hope and love, Mei-chou cried out soundlessly and futilely: Ao Rue, Ao Rue, where in the seven hells are you when I need you!
“Wasn’t much of a dragon. Would’ve liked to go out on a big one.”
“Oh, Chu-Chu, it was the great father of all dragons. Nothing could have stood before him. Not now, not in the old days.” Ao Rue, Ao Rue! He’s fading.
“Was he really big?”
“He was a monstrous rogue. All the ancient blue-eyed sorcerers couldn’t have stood before him, my brave Chu-Chu. I should have helped; I should have!” Ao Rue! Here! Here!
“No, this was no job for a kitten. And don’t call me Chu-Chu. Best left to us adults. How I miss your mother.” He had begun to babble in pain.
“I knew if I waited, if I was silent, I’d have you again, stupid cat.” Han Chung-li had returned. His head was tilted so he could see them with his one good eye. Blood welled from scratches across the bridge of his snout. Chu-Chu had almost made it. “Gonna cook some kitties now, I am, I am.” He was clearly in great pain, almost incoherent. Yellow ichor formed a shiny smear on his scales, clotted in the tendrils below the ripped eye. Its flaccid membrane was pink with diluted blood. “Cook you slow, I will. My agony will be nothing to yours.” His head reared back; his jaws opened; Mei-chou curled herself around Chu-Chu. His gathering fire mocked her meager protection.
Nothing’s happening. His head was coming forward again. Mei-chou braced and cringed. Hugged Chu-Chu. Again, nothing. Han Chung-li’s head wavered in confusion. Mei-chou looked u
p, gently cradling Chu-Chu’s head as it slid from the curve of her throat. Han Chung-li’s swinging head finally brought his good eye toward the summit of Bogdo-ola. He screamed in terror.
Ao Rue had come around the Mount of God and was plunging down upon the canyon. His silver body blew a valley in the peak’s snow; white waves leapt away in great sheets from the stone as he roared down. Silver sparks trailed the edges of his wings. His speed burned and cut the air. He threw his anger before him. Ao Rue flew through his own fire. Again and again, he burst anew out of flame. He was the purity and might of lightning without storm, thunder without noise. His eyes blazed in great whirlpools of blue. Billows of energy streamed from his scales. Great swells of broken air cracked in his wake. He rode all his power to Mei-chou’s call! His talons reached out for Han Chung-li.
“Now, the fear is yours, little general.” Mei-chou’s fear had turned to anger; she rose to stand astride Chu-Chu. “He is your death. The perfection of fur and fire. The last of the great sorcerers. He has stilled your hot breath. He has taken your fire. Now, for Lord Chu, he will take your life!” Han Chung-li, half-blind, turned in panic. He scrambled down the mountain. Too witless to fly, he banged against the stone. Ao Rue was almost upon him.
Mei-chou’s rage suddenly vanished as she felt a faint stirring of Chu ‘s body. “No, No, Ao Rue, here. Here, to me, to me!” Her cry stopped Ao Rue so quickly that he had to sink his talons into the granite to keep from flying by. As he cracked out of the stone and moved to her, concern marked every step. He offhandedly threw a blue orb in the direction of the fleeing Azghun Demon; it popped out of existence.