This time it was not one dragon, or two, or three. It was a battalion of them. They formed a virtual wall before the group, their wings overlapping like a phalanx. “I think I should tackle these,” she called to Firenze.
“Not yet,” he called back. “I can handle them.”
“Are you sure?”
“Yes,” Santo said.
So the children had Communed, and knew. Astrid had to trust that, though she was not at all comfortable with it. Any mistake, and they would all be dragon snacks.
They marched up to the wall of dragons. Then Firenze’s head heated. Sparks and fireworks radiated from it.
The dragons were not impressed. They had firebreathers of their own. They could handle heat.
Firenze’s head became red hot. Then white hot. The air around him flickered as it heated. Wind came in from the sides as the air around his head expanded explosively and rose into the air. Soon a circulation developed, forming a fiery tornado. Coruscating heat whirled into the sky, picking up dust, rising into a turbulent cloud.
The dragons backed off. They were getting some respect. Firenze walked straight ahead, and the children and Astrid followed him as closely as the heat permitted. The dragons tried to come closer, but Firenze turned his head this way and that, and balls of fire formed where he looked, making even fire dragons pause. They were not accustomed to receiving fire, only sending it. He was forging a trail through the center of the dragon mass.
They came to a massive stone wall. That seemed to be the end of Dragon Country. Beyond it could be their escape. The path the children were following indicated that they did have to get by it, at any rate.
But now they were literally up against a wall, with the dragons closing off any possible retreat. The moment they tired or slept, the dragons would charge and swamp them.
“We have to get through this wall,” Squid said. “Our way is beyond it.”
“But it’s hard,” Win said.
“And dangerous,” Myst said.
It was time for Astrid to organize things. “This wall can’t be infinitely thick. We need to find a thin spot. Then Santo can make a hole through it.”
“There’s something complicated about this wall,” Firenze said. “Something we don’t understand. But we do need to get past it.”
“It will take a lot of energy to make a hole big enough for us to go through,” Santo said. “I can’t make it both big and long.”
“Can you make small test holes?” Astrid asked him.
“Yes, but—”
Astrid was impatient because of the encroaching dragons; they needed to get away from here soon. “When a test hole shows the way, then make a big hole.”
“Okay,” he agreed, seeing her strategy.
“Myst, you can mist through the holes to tell which one gets through,” Astrid said. “Win, you can send air through them. You should be able to spot the right one the moment it appears. So you two help Santo.”
“Yes,” the two chorused happily.
“Meanwhile I will hold off the dragons,” she said. “Firenze and Squid, you can stand on either side of me and warn me of any dragons trying to sneak by my Stare.”
The two nodded, and took their places beside her, while the other three children faced the wall.
The dragons, as if catching on that the prey was up to something, became bolder, trying to get into burning, steaming, smoking, or snatching range.
“Stay back, dragons!” Astrid called. “I am a basilisk. I will Stare you if you get too close.”
But the dragons continued to nudge closer. “They think you’re bluffing,” Firenze said.
“Because I bluffed them,” Squid said.
“Well, I gave them fair warning,” Astrid said, removing her glasses.
A huge dragon charged, breathing fire. Astrid caught its eye, and it plowed into the ground, dead.
“I regret doing that,” she called. “But I did warn you. Get away from here.”
But another dragon, a steamer, perhaps a stupid one, charged. Astrid caught its eye, and it too dropped to the ground.
“That should be clear enough,” Astrid called. “I can do this all day if I have to. But I’d rather not. Go away and stop harassing us, and you’ll be safe.”
Still they did not stop. A smoker charged. Astrid oriented on its snoot and couldn’t find its eyes. Either they were closed, or smoke obscured them. “We’re in trouble,” she murmured tersely. “I can’t kill it from a distance.”
“I’ll do it,” Firenze said. His head heated, quickly turning red. He stepped forward, intercepting the dragon. The dragon’s mouth, guided by smell, came down on him. Firenze’s head became a ball of fire, and the dragon’s mouth was filled with flames. It quickly flinched back, too late; its teeth were charred and its tongue was a mass of sodden ashes. It was painfully out of commission.
Now at last the dragons heeded the warning. No more charged, but neither did they withdraw. They were still watching for an opening.
“Got it!” Santo exclaimed behind them. “Myst found a hole through.”
Astrid turned. There was a series of middle-size holes in the wall. Santo was working on one of them, enlarging it to a hole a person could crawl through. It wasn’t instant; it was happening slowly. She realized that he was tiring, having done a lot of work. But there was no other way, so she let him continue.
Finally it was complete. Light showed at the end of a short tunnel. “Get on through, children,” she said. “I’ll guard the rear.”
They scrambled through, until only Astrid was left. She faced the dragons, knowing the moment she turned around they would charge. She had been able to do it before because Santo was there, but now she was alone.
She glared around, then spun about and dived into the hole, changing to basilisk form as she did; that was better for this sort of running. She scrambled for all she was worth, knowing that a dragon would send fire or steam after her. She tumbled out the other end just as a tongue of fire forged though. That had been too close a call!
“Quick, close it up!” she gasped as she changed back to human and recovered her footing.
“I can’t,” Santo said. “A hole through water I can let expire; it collapses naturally. But stone doesn’t.”
“Fetch a rock, then. We don’t want a slender dragon following us through.”
But there were no rocks. They were not out in the open; they were in what appeared to be a stone passage behind the wall. They moved away from the hole, having to leave it open behind them. That made Astrid nervous, but what choice did they have?
Then she realized what it was. “We’re in a castle!” she said, amazed. “We just punched through its outer wall!”
“But it’s huge,” Firenze said. “What’s it doing here in Dragon Country?”
“We’d better find out, if we can,” Santo said. “We knew there was something about the wall.”
“Something wrong,” Squid said. “But we were in a hurry.”
The children linked hands and Communed. Then separated, their faces mutually grim.
“What is it?” Astrid asked, alarmed.
“We think it’s the Dragon King’s Castle,” Win said.
“Awful,” Myst agreed.
“I have not heard of this,” Astrid said.
“We know of it historically,” Firenze said.
“From when it emerged from Storage and became the capitol of the dragons in all Xanth,” Santo said.
“Maybe ten years from now,” Squid said. “It’s a tourist attraction we visited.”
“After the Human/Dragon war,” Win said.
“Awful,” Myst repeated.
Astrid had almost forgotten that the children were from the future. There would be a war between the humans and the dragons? That did not look promising.
“
This way, please, honored guests.”
They turned, startled. There was a goblin woman, pert and pretty as they all were. “Who are you?” Astrid asked.
“I am Goldie Goblin, lowliest servant of the Dragon King. I must make you comfortable in your suite.”
“Suite?” Astrid asked blankly.
“As his future Queen, you must have the very best. Please follow me.”
Astrid’s mouth worked, but nothing came out. Future Queen?
“We’re in trouble,” Firenze murmured.
“But we’d better play along for now,” Santo said.
They followed Goldie down the passage, which soon expanded into a hall. It led to a palatial suite, with a living room, family room, dining room, rumpus room, bathroom and several bedrooms. “If there is anything you want, simply snap your fingers,” Goldie said. “A servant will appear to do your bidding.”
This was so different and unexpected that Astrid clamped tightly down on her reactions. She needed time to think and to consult with the children before even expressing wonder. “Thank you. We will manage.”
The goblin curtsied and disappeared down a side hall. They were alone for the moment.
“If we are guests here, we shall have to make ourselves presentable,” Astrid told the children. “We are filthy. We’ll clean up and change clothing. But first, a little ceremony of appreciation for the courtesy of this residence.”
She extended her hands. The children took them, Firenze on her right, Myst on her left, the others in the order of their ages, forming a circle of six. They could touch her hands briefly without suffering much damage from her corrosive skin. And for the first time Astrid participated in their Communion. It was amazing. Suddenly all their minds were linked. It was as if they shared one Communal thought.
We are captives of the Dragon King. There is great danger. We must escape within a day, or all is lost. But we must not give any indication that we have any plan to escape. We are being watched. We must pretend to accede to the Dragon King’s demands.
Astrid released the hands. “Very good, children,” she said. “We do appreciate this residence in the spirit it is offered.” Which was not what it seemed. “Now the two boys will use the bathroom first. I see there are basins, washcloths, and towels there, and changes of clothing. Use them.” She formed a token frown. “And wash behind your ears. Then give the girls our turn.”
The boys dutifully obeyed, closing the door behind them. In two moments they were done, garbed in the fresh blue outfits provided. Then Astrid took the girls in, and in four moments (there were more of them) they were clean and in the assorted nice pink dresses provided. Obviously someone had seen them coming, and set things up for them.
Astrid snapped her fingers. A lovely human woman appeared, garbed as a servant. “Wesla at your service.”
Astrid recognized the smell. “You’re a werewolf!”
“A captive,” Wesla agreed. “Now I serve the Dragon King.”
Wulfha had mentioned that her friend had been captured, raped, and forced into servitude. Wesla had surely suffered sorely.
“Goldie Goblin said something about my being a future queen. Do you know anything about that?”
“Yes.”
“Do you care to tell me?”
“Yes.”
There was a pause. It seemed that these servants had been instructed to volunteer little unless directly asked, and they were rigorously true to that directive. That spoke another volume about the discipline the master enforced. “Then tell me about this, please.”
“The Dragon King means to make a political marriage with you so he can extend his hegemony beyond the dragons. A beautiful basilisk would seem to be perfect, serving as a threat to other species that might be resistive. If he can tame a basilisk, he can tame anything.”
Tame her? Astrid rankled. “I am already married.”
Wesla did not respond.
“Doesn’t that make a difference?”
“No. Relationships outside Storage are null.”
“Not to me!”
Silence.
It seemed that the Dragon King was the law in this realm. Astrid had sympathy for the werewolf, but suspected she was a lost cause. “Please arrange for us to be fed.”
“Lunch is ready.”
And there in the dining room a competent meal had been laid out. Astrid hadn’t thought to check when she emerged from the washing up. “Thank you.”
No reply.
They went to the dining room. There was something for everyone, including eye scream and boot rear for the children, and has beans for the adult.
After the meal, Astrid encouraged the children to lie down and rest, perchance to sleep. “You have had a difficult morning,” she said. “You are surely overtired.” She was thinking especially of the way Firenze and Santo had labored with their talents to deal with dragons and a wall. They needed to restore their resources.
“Can we take the big bed?” Myst asked.
“Welcome to it.”
All the children piled onto the big bed, linking hands. With luck, the watching Dragon King would not know the significance of linking hands, and would assume they were merely reassuring each other. Soon they were asleep.
Wesla and Goldie were now in the dining room, cleaning up. On impulse, Astrid joined them. “I don’t want to make any trouble for anyone,” she said. “But since there is a chance I will be joining you, in one capacity or another, I would like to get to know you a little better. Would that be out of order?”
The two exchanged a wary look. “If knowing us encourages you to join us, it is in order,” Goldie said. But she volunteered nothing else.
“Out in Xanth proper I was able to help save three goblin girls from captivity by a troll. I have little use for goblin males, but those girls seemed nice.”
“We try to be,” Goldie said with a bit of a shudder. Then Astrid realized that she had probably also been raped and brutalized. An accommodation spell could have facilitated the first. She also realized that the spying probably wasn’t just visual; their dialogue might be overheard. That would help explain the extreme reticence of these captives.
Astrid glanced at Wesla. “We passed through Wolf Country on our way here. I met Wulfha.”
Now the werewolf unbent a little, if only to ask a question. “What did you think of her?”
“She is one smart, tough bitch. I call her my friend.”
Wesla did not speak, but her mouth twitched in the suggestion of a smile.
Astrid decided to let them be. At least she had established some basis for acquaintance, just in case.
There was a knock on the outer door. Astrid went to open it. There stood a regally unfamiliar woman. “I am the Dragon Lady,” she said. “We should talk.”
“Do come in.” This promised to be interesting.
They settled in easy chairs in the living room. “As you know, the King has his eye on you,” the Lady said.
“Unfortunately I do not have my eye on him. We are only passing through.”
“Not so. You will remain here until you have satisfied his desire.”
“I’m a basilisk,” Astrid said, changing just her head into her natural form for a generous instant so as not to mess up her nice pink dress.
“And I’m a dragon,” the Lady agreed, doing the same. “I have come here at the behest of the King to clarify your situation.”
“There are few creatures who seriously think they can force a basilisk to do anything she doesn’t want to do, and fewer who would ever want to marry one.”
“The King is one of the few.”
This remained curious. “What is your relationship to the King?”
“I am his mistress. I hope in time to become his wife.”
“Then why are you talking with me? I surely am not go
od for your design.”
“I would be happy to see all of you dead,” the Lady said candidly. “But that is not my decision to make. I am obliged to persuade you to marry the King and give him an heir to the throne.”
Astrid digested this. Not only a political liaison, but summoning the stork, or whatever dragons summoned? That might be a considerable challenge for the King, and anathema to her. “The King has you so much in thrall that you must come to persuade another creature to marry him and oblige him in bed and give him an heir instead of you doing these things? Thus ruining your own aspirations?”
“Exactly.”
This spoke volumes about the Dragon King’s powers of coercion. “Unlikely. Tell him your mission failed.”
“The King thought you might be a bit slow to appreciate the nuances,” the Lady said. “Hence my visit.”
“The King must be quite persuasive.”
“He is. No one says no to the King.”
Until now. “Just how does he propose to persuade me?”
“His program is basic. You came here with five children, to whom you are evidently attached. You will have one day and night to make your decision. If it is negative, the smallest child will be taken and caged with the male troll laborers, who are notoriously crude and corrupt. You may imagine the use they will try to make of her through the bars of her cage. They won’t be able to ravish or kill her, but they will seriously demean her and forever destroy her innocence. You will then have another day and night to change your mind. If you do not, the cage will open and the trolls will have their loathsome and lethal way with the child. Her screams will be broadcast throughout the castle, so you will know it is happening. Then the second smallest will be similarly caged for a day and night. In this manner all five children will be disposed of in turn. Thereafter you yourself will be hooded and caged, with a day and night to decide whose bride you will be: the King’s or the trolls. He hopes you will be reasonable before that point.”
Astrid shuddered inwardly. The King evidently had no mercy on his victims. He was after all a dragon.
“And you, Lady—what is your hope?”
“That you will hold out and be raped to death. Then the King may be more inclined to consider my suit, where rape is unnecessary.”
Five Portraits Page 17