Now, too, she understood the shame of the Good Magician. The day horse had been there when Humfrey had set out his spells and explained them to her! Humfrey could have enchanted the Horseman at any time, had he realized what was in retrospect so obvious. Instead he had allowed himself to be caught in that moment when Imbri had been outside, waiting for the day horse to follow; the stallion had changed to the Horseman, ensorcelled the Magician, changed back, and run with Imbri. If Humfrey was mortified, what, then, of Imbri herself. She had indeed been marishly stupid.
It all fitted so neatly together now. She was sickened. It had taken Chameleon, in her nasty smart phase, to put all the clues together and arrive at the proper conclusion. The Horseman, perhaps becoming contemptuous of his opposition, had been fooled himself. Naturally he had gone with her into Castle Roogna; there was his chance to eliminate the last two Kings expeditiously and take over.
They were all standing there, waiting for Imbri to come to terms with it. King Dor had his arm around King Irene, and both looked pretty well satisfied to be together again. King Trent had taken the hand of King Iris, a seemingly minor gesture of quarter-century significance. All nine Kings appeared to be well enough off here, for the time being--but their bodies were in Castle Roogna, at the mercy of their enemy, the Horseman. They had figured out the truth, and that was essential, but the end of this crisis was hardly certain yet.
"Best of fortune. King Imbri," King Trent said solemnly. "Xanth is depending on you."
Now Imbri appreciated the full magnitude of the challenge. The tenth King had to break the chain--and she was that King.
Chapter 13
Breaking the Chain
There was no trouble about getting Blythe Brassie released for real-world duty; the Night Stallion had been waiting for the request. Imbri and the brassie girl arrived at Castle Roogna before dawn.
The Gorgon, the Siren, and Goldy Goblin were already there. So were Chem Centaur and Tandy and her ogre husband Smash, who had been faithfully guarding the castle throughout. Other people and creatures had been sent to neighboring villages for their own safety, since it was now known this would be a battle site. The old soldier Crombie had been persuaded by his daughter to march with the others, to protect them on the journey and point the way if any got lost. The truth was, he was no longer in condition to fight Mundanes, but he had indomitable pride. The Siren had organized these things with the tact and sensitivity she possessed.
Blythe was joyed to meet the others. Old friends greeted one, another enthusiastically. Then they sobered, knowing that the difficult time was soon to come. Marching from the Gap was one enemy; within the castle was another. Both had to be dealt with--by this pitifully frail-seeming group of females and a single ogre.
"And one golem," Grundy pointed out with grim pride. Obviously he had not departed with the others, though he should have. What he could do to help wasn't clear at the moment, but he was ready to do it.
They looked at Imbri, who suddenly realized it was now her place to give directives, for she was King. "Rest, eat," she sent in a slightly shaky dreamlet. "We don't expect the Mundanes until another day. You'll know what to do."
Imbri faced the castle, a dark silhouette against a sky thinking about brightening. "And I know what I must do first!"
The castle was imposing in a strange new way, as she gradually made out the details. It was almost entirely overgrown by vegetation. Tangle trees braced against its walls, and carnivorous grass sprouted from the crannies. Animate vines dangled from the parapets. Kraken weeds sprouted from the moat, making the normal moat monsters uneasy. King Irene was gone, but her magic remained, and it did indeed seem to be of Magician caliber.
There was no easy way any person could pass in or out of that place. The Horseman certainly was trapped, for a tangler would as quickly gobble a horse as a man. The plants could not invade the interior of the castle, for that was protected by assorted spells that had been in place for centuries, but they certainly lurked for anything outside. Imbri had to enter the castle now, before dawn, or she would not be able to do so until nightfall. Only her immaterial state could pass those savage plants! Chameleon and Irene had certainly set their trap well, and done as much for Xanth in their brief tenures as Kings as any of the prior Kings had.
There was a sound from the north. Chet Centaur came galloping, his fine body sweating from the effort. Imbri marveled at how different the results of crossbreeding could be--a fine centaur on one hoof, the awful Horseman on the other.
"The Mundanes are coming! The Mundanes are coming!" Chet exclaimed breathlessly.
"But we took down the bridge!" Imbri protested.
"I know it. I checked as well as I could without being seen by them. Apparently they sent a man across right after you left. It happened so fast the Gap Dragon didn't have time to get there--though I'm not sure that poor monster is eager to encounter Mundanes again! The man hauled the invisible bridge back up--it's netlike, you know--and tied it in place, and they marched across it at night. Now their vanguard is upon us! I would have discovered it earlier, but I was checking other trails."
"You were on routine night patrol, not expecting anything," Grundy said. "We all knew the one place they would not cross was at the broken bridge. Or thought we knew."
"We have all underestimated the Mundanes," the Siren said. "That's why the war has gone so badly for us. We keep thinking that people without magic can't be much of a threat. That's not true at all; in fact, such people are the most ruthless and depraved, perhaps because of that lack, so are doubly dangerous."
Imbri realized that the Siren, who had been deprived of her own magic talent for more than twenty years, was in a position to appreciate the deleterious social effects of loss of magic. She was a good woman and had survived and perhaps even improved herself during that hiatus, but lesser people could readily do worse.
Imbri, like the others, had made another serious miscalculation. She had assumed that the Mundanes would remain camped for the night, then forge across the Gap Chasm by day in the manner the other army had crossed a few days before, and camp again on the south side. They had outsmarted her, advancing cleverly and rapidly to rejoin their trapped leader. Now the consequence of this misjudgment was apparent; the siege was on before the defense was ready.
The Horseman would have to wait. Imbri had a battle to organize. The Nextwave could not be allowed to capture Castle Roogna, the last solid symbol of Xanth independence, or to rescue the Horseman. If she went inside to deal with him, she would be trapped there by daylight, unable to phase through walls and plants, and thus be unable to deal with the army outside. She might kill the Horseman but lose the battle, so that Xanth would have nothing at all except barbarians overrunning it. Even a bad leader was probably better than none at all. If she dealt first with the Mundanes, the Horseman would remain trapped, and she could deal with him at her leisure.
But that wasn't a perfect answer. Suppose the Horseman got angry and started killing the bodies of the Kings? Could she afford to risk that? Imbri wavered again. The burden of decision making was heavy, for a mistake affected the welfare of many other creatures, and perhaps the entire Kingdom.
"Don't worry," the Siren said, divining her thought. "The Horseman won't hurt the Kings. He is holding them hostage. He knows we could send in a flight of harpies or other deadly creatures to wipe him out, if we weren't concerned about our own people in there. Meanwhile, the Kings are no threat to him. He has everything to gain by taking good care of them--until the Mundanes win this battle and free him. If the Mundanes lose, he'll try to use the Kings as bargaining chips to win his own freedom."
That made sense, Imbri hoped. "We must organize quickly," she sent. "The Gorgon must be where only the enemy can see her, but not where they can shoot arrows at her."
"Fear not," the Gorgon said. "I will remove my veil only in the presence of a Mundane. I can hide behind a tree and peek out--"
"But the others will see what happens to
the first," the Siren said. "The Mundanes are very quick to perceive and act against threats to their welfare. But I can help. Magician Humfrey restored my magic dulcimer before he became King; I have it now, and my power has returned. Let me lure them--"
"First we must get all Xanth males clear of the area," Imbri sent.
"Aw, we know about the Gorgon," Grundy protested. "We won't look her in the puss."
"All males must be clear," Imbri insisted. "Beyond hearing, so you won't be lured in by the Siren. You go out and warn them, in the name of the King. Get far away and don't return until one of us finds you and tells you it's safe."
"Oops--Smash went on another patrol through the jungle," Tandy said. "To make sure no Mundanes were sneaking in from any other directions."
"We have to do it, golem," Chet said. "She's the King Mare. And she's right. We must warn everyone as fast as we can, catching any stragglers and getting well away from here ourselves. We can intercept Smash and warn him off."
"We'll give you as much time as possible," Imbri sent. "This is a battle only females can fight, because they are immune to the Siren's song." She turned quickly to the Siren. "That's right, isn't it?"
"That's right," the Siren agreed. "My power is related to that of Millie the Ghost-projected sex appeal. I suppose a male Siren could summon females."
"That would serve them right!" Grundy exclaimed. The Gorgon turned toward him, lifting one hand to her veil. Hastily he mounted Chet, and they galloped off while the Siren chuckled. The Gorgon would not really have lifted that veil!
Imbri remained uneasy. They certainly had an excellent weapon, or combination of weapons, in these two sisters, since the Mundane army was all male. If only they had had more time to work out a really solid defense!
In hurried moments, they set up a crude arrangement, the best they could manage with the disadvantage of their situation. As the sun hauled itself up out of the forest to the east, singeing the leaves of the adjacent trees, the head of the Mundane column marched upon the castle. Light glinted from the Punic shields and helmets as the dread Wave crested a ridge.
Chem Centaur concealed herself in a hollow old beerbarrel tree and projected a large map of what she saw. This identified the position of all the Mundanes in the area in a way that every defender could see. The Punics could see it, too--but no Xanth positions were marked on it, so it didn't help the enemy. The Mundanes peered about, trying to spot the origin of the map, but there were a hundred fat old trees in the vicinity, none of whom cared to help the enemy, and many other features of the terrain to baffle the intruders. So the Mundanes spread out, poking their spears at each tree and getting peppered by supposedly accidental falls of deadwood. Soon they would discover the right one.
But Goldy Goblin, using the projected map for orientation, waved her magic wand. A Mundane flew up in the air, involuntarily, with a startled cry. He sailed in a high arc over the jungle, then plunged, screaming, out of sight.
The Mundanes oriented on this new menace, for the moment forgetting the map. They located Goldy, perched high in a you-call-yptus tree. They shot arrows at her, but the tree called out a warning, as was its nature, and moved its branches to intercept them.
The Mundanes stared, thinking this another coincidence, blaming the movement on the wind. But as the breeze died, and the tree kept balking their shots, they realized that it, too, was a combatant. All the trees around Castle Roogna could move, within reasonable limits, and they were guardians of the castle. But they could not do much unless the Mundanes came within reach, and the enemy soldiers were careful to stay clear.
The Mundanes charged the yptus tree. Goldy used her wand to loft another and another over the jungle and into the nearest lake, where hungry goozlegizzard monsters lurked, but there were too many for her to stop. They reached the base of the tree and started climbing.
Then Blythe Brassie went into action. She was perched on a lower branch and had a basket of cherry bombs harvested from the local cherry tree. She dropped these singly on each ascending helmet The bombs detonated as they struck, splattering cherry juice in the enemy faces and making the helmets clang. The climbing Mundanes fell out of the tree and out of the fight
The other Mundanes shot arrows at Blythe. They were so close that the tree's branches were unable to react fast enough to protect her. But the arrows clanged off her brass body harmlessly. Well, almost harmlessly; each one left a dent, and she was very sensitive about dents. Furious, she hurled more cherries at the archers, blasting them out
Angered in turn, the Punics formed a kind of phalanx, overlapping their shields above their heads, so the cherry bombs had little effect, and marching to the base of the tree. Then they used their swords to hack at the trunk.
"OooOooO!" the tree groaned with a sound like that of wind sighing through its branches. It certainly was hurting.
Blythe dropped down on the top of the phalanx and knelt to locate crevices. Through these she squeezed more cherry bombs. The explosions in the confined space of the formation caused the overlapping shields to jump and fall apart Smoke poured out, assisted by the coughing and hacking of the people inside the enclosure. Blythe lost her perch and fell down into the phalanx.
Now the Punics whose bodies remained intact grabbed the brassie girl. Blythe struggled, but they were too many and too strong for her. "Look what we've got here!" one gloated. "A golden nymph."
"We know what to do with that kind!" another exclaimed. "Hold her arms and legs--"
Imbri, seeing this from deeper in the jungle, galloped across to where the Siren hid. "They've got Blythe!" she sent the moment she came within range. "They're chopping Goldy's tree! Now it's time for you!"
The Siren nodded. She put her hands to her dulcimer and began to play. Music sprang out magically, filling the air. Then she sang. Her voice merged oddly with the notes of the instrument, forming an unusual but compelling melody. The magic was not entirely in the dulcimer and not entirely in her voice, but together the two formed a powerful enchantment. The sound floated out over the battlefield, suffusing the environment.
The Mundane men reacted in quite a different manner than the Xanth females. The soldiers straightened up, listening, pausing in whatever they were doing. Some had arrows nocked to strings; some were chopping at the you-call tree; some were advancing on the castle; and some were holding Blythe Brassie spread-eagled, preparing for some heinous male act. All froze a moment, then turned and faced the music. Blythe, battered and dented but otherwise undaunted, dropped to the ground; the men had no further interest in her.
There was no formation now, only a somnambulistic shuffling toward the unseen Siren. For almost twenty-five years the merwoman's power had been blunted by the loss of her magic instrument; now it burst forth again in its fantastic compulsion. The Mundane men crowded toward the source of the sound, jostling one another discourteously. They clogged like drifting garbage at the narrow entrance to the glade where the Siren sang and shoved blindly to enter--and of course got shoved back. Everything about the Mundanes was brutish. But slowly the clog cleared, and they tunneled in.
Beside the Siren stood the Gorgon. As each man approached, she lifted aside her veil and looked him in the face. He turned instantly to stone, a statue in place. The man following him was not concerned; he simply went around and was in turn converted to stone.
Imbri watched from behind the Gorgon, which was the safest place to be. The Siren's power operated only on men, but the Gorgon's worked on anyone or any creature. The combination of Siren and Gorgon was deadly potent. At this rate, the entire Mundane army would soon be stoned.
Then Imbri's acute equine ears heard a distant call. "Imbri! Trouble!" It was from one of the girls; what was the matter?
Imbri left the garden of statues, careful never to face the Gorgon, though she knew the Gorgon would cover her face the moment any friendly party turned toward her. A night mare might be immune to the Horseman's enchantment, but not to the Gorgon's, which was of a different n
ature. Imbri galloped on past the heedless Punics.
It was Tandy who was calling. She had been on peripheral duty, watching out for unexpected developments, and she had found one, to her horror. "It's my own husband!" she exclaimed as Imbri joined her. "Smash! He must have missed Chet and Grundy and not gotten the warning to flee! So he came in to report! Now he's caught by the Siren's song, and I can't stop him!"
Indeed, the ogre was tromping along behind the Mundanes, orienting on the hidden glade, captive to the melody. Smash stood twice the height of any of the men and weighed about six times as much; no ordinary person could stop him physically. In addition, he had his magic ogre strength, making him much more dangerous than his size suggested; he could crush rock with his bare hands and squeeze juice from trees. A giant could hardly have stopped him; certainly it was beyond the power of a person Tandy's size.
Imbri tried. "Smash!" she sent in an urgent daydream. "You are caught by the song of the Siren! Block it out, or you will face the Gorgon!"
"Me know; me go," the ogre agreed, reverting to his dull ogrish manner, though his human ancestry gave him intelligence. He tromped on. A couple of objects were clutched in his hamhands.
The lure certainly was powerful! Imbri realized she could not stop Smash. She galloped back to the glade, sending a dream to the Gorgon: "Do not petrify me, friend! I'm coming into sight!"
The Gorgon veiled her face, and Imbri approached her safely, albeit feeling shaky in all four knees. She stopped behind the devastating woman, and the Gorgon resumed flashing at Mundanes, petrifying each in place. The glade was now crowded with statues, and the Siren and the Gorgon had to keep backing away to make room for more. These two were destroying an army that had marched the length of the wilderness of Xanth, cowed griffins and goblins and dragons, and made refugees of whole Xanthian communities. It was surely ironic that the end of the Nextwave should be brought about by two middle-aged and fairly gentle married women.
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