The Secret of Spring

by Piers Anthony

  At the other side of the garden Herb stood gazing helplessly into the deadly Jasmine’s eyes. They swirled with the depths of a maelstrom, drawing him in, deeper and deeper. And why should he fight it?

  She was a beautiful woman. He could see she wanted him to kiss her as much as he wanted to do it. As much as he ached to kiss her. His desire burned like a torch in his center, now. It had to end, he had to touch her. Inclining his head toward hers, he saw her moist, red lips tilt upward, awaiting his caress.

  Spring reached them first. She grasped Herb by the shoulders and spun him around, intercepting his kiss on her own lips. The spell was momentarily broken.

  “Spring?” he asked, still dazed.

  “You foolish female,” screamed Jasmine, advancing on Spring. “You dare oppose my will?” Her lovely features were twisted with the rage within her, and Spring knew the meaning of fear as the being held up one hand from which a brilliant light glowed. It leaped from her fingertips to Spring, and a strange sensation rushed down her body. She stood as if frozen. Try as she would, she could not move so much as an eyelash. She stood in helpless horror, watching as Jasmine turned to Herb once more. He was still beneath her evil spell. Unresisting, his lips sought hers.

  Suddenly, Jasmine screamed, and stood unmoving. Spring felt life course back into her body. Something had happened to remove the spell, but what?

  Cling Ling stood between Herb and Jasmine, holding a smooth piece of crystal in his vines; it was the shield from the soldier statue. It now caught the full light of the moon which reflected brightly into the face of the evil sorceress.

  “I don’t understand. What’s happening?” Spring cried.

  Herb shook his head at the sound of her voice. He was still confused, but unharmed. Jasmine had not budged an inch. Nor was she ever likely to. Spring put out a hand and touched the smooth surface of Jasmine’s face. She was a perfect statue of priceless ruby.

  “Regrets for the delay,” Cling Ling apologized. “I had difficulty removing the shield, but needed it to imitate the myth. The crystal surface acted as our mirror. I thrust it in her line of vision just as she prepared to kiss Herb, so she kissed her own reflection instead. It worked in much the same manner as the legend. That was only a story, while this was reality, but I counted on the same result. Fortunately, Zygote stuck to the basics. She was one of his magical creations, you see.”

  How like Zygote to create monsters to do his dirty work! But right now, Spring was more concerned about Herb. She rubbed his hands in hers. He seemed to be coming out of it at last, and was looking at his surroundings in bewilderment.

  “Why are we all in the garden?” he asked.

  “Don’t you remember?” Spring asked.

  “Yes—I think so. Yes. I wanted to see you, Spring.” He turned to her. “But Jasmine said you were sleeping. She invited me to come with her, but I didn’t want to at first, and then she looked and—” He blushed furiously, remembering.

  “And she led you down the garden path,” Spring quipped.

  “Yes. Is that her?” Herb asked, noticing the statue for the first time.

  “Yes,” Spring said with the satisfaction of a job well done. “And may I say she never looked lovelier.”

  The three decided to remain at the castle for the night, and though there was no longer anything to fear from their hostess, they took the precaution of sharing one chamber. The night passed uneventfully, but as they prepared to depart the next morning, they heard a commotion taking place in the garden. They had hoped to slip away unnoticed, but as they paused by the gateway, that was not to be. Several of the servants surrounded Jasmine’s statue. It was obvious they were in an emotional state. One of them spotted their small group by the gate and alerted the others.

  “The strangers,” another cried. “This must be their doing.”

  “Uh-oh,” Spring said.

  The way out lay through the garden where the servants now gathered, blocking their exit. Spring recognized two of the women who had attended them the evening before. They had been joined by three more strong men. Would they attempt to exact vengeance for their Mistress’ demise?

  “Good morning. We’ll be on our way now. Appreciate your help,” Spring said, smiling, trying to bluff their way past. No one moved.

  “You did this?” asked the youngest servant girl. “It was your magic which turned her to stone?”

  “It was unavoidable,” Herb said, putting a protective arm around Spring. “Jasmine tried to turn me into one of those things. We had to protect ourselves. Surely, you can understand? We had no choice.”

  “She’s dead,” said one of the men, stepping forward. “She is cold and lifeless like the stones of the earth.”

  Cling Ling moved in, assuming a defensive stance. “I must warn you. I am expert at the art of Julep-so.”

  The older woman turned to the others. “We be free,” she cried. “Slaves no longer. Free!”

  “Yes! Yes!” the others joined in.

  The young girl made a deep curtsey to Spring. “We be forever in thy debt, Mistress.”

  “You aren’t—angry?” Spring breathed, relieved.

  “We be glad. Yet, ’tis so hard to believe. We never thought ever to be free.”

  “We must repay the great magicians,” agreed one of the men.

  “You owe us nothing,” Herb said. He was just happy not to have to force their way out. The memory of his last fight still lingered heavily on his mind, and in his sore limbs.

  “If I may ask one favor?” Cling Ling interjected. “Please to tell. Where is the castle of Zygote?”

  A hushed silence fell upon the group, then the young girl spoke. “Ye be friends of the magician?” she asked hesitantly.

  Spring wasn’t sure what they should say to that. If these people were loyal to Zygote, they would be foolish to trust them. Trust had proven folly the night before. Yet, it went against her grain to lie again, especially to feign friendship with that monster, Zygote. She looked to the others, but it was plain they were leaving it up to her.

  “He has something,” she said, swallowing, “that belongs to us. We’ve come to take it back.” That was no lie, but even though the servants seemed grateful for their new freedom, she was not certain where their allegiance lay.

  “Ah,” answered the girl, relaxing once more. “Jasmine was a conjuration of the magician. She paid him service. He be not pleased to lose her, methinks.”

  “We must be wary,” Cling Ling agreed. “Zygote has peopled his domain with many such creatures as Jasmine. We may not have encountered the last of his magical traps, I fear.”

  “Wait,” Herb said, intrigued. “You said something about Jasmine doing ‘service’ for Zygote. Are you saying they were, uh, lovers?”

  “Oh, no!” laughed the girl, finding that idea most amusing. “He be old and not interested in such diversion. Besides, one kiss of Jasmine and he be stoned. She entertained many guests at the castle. All sent by Zygote, and all remain. Her kiss be forever binding.” She indicated the garden.

  “Horrible,” Spring shivered. Herb had almost joined their ranks, and as for her? Who could say? Perhaps it would have worn off. There were no females in the garden. Jasmine would have had to dispose of her by other means, but that was not any more appealing.

  “Zygote be not generous with his enemies. Be therefore careful if thou goest to the castle. Mayhap thy loss be not now so dear that thou knowest now the nature of the magician?” asked the girl.

  “I know his nature only too well,” Spring said coldly.

  “It is more important than you can imagine,” Herb said, grimly, thinking of Lily. A man who could sanction turning flesh to stone would hardly be kind to a strange, alien girl, masquerading as his prey. Herb feared for her now more than ever. And for Spring.

  “Zygote. Hie we must away from this place,” said one of the men, fearfully.

  Most of the group seemed to agree, and scurried off leaving only the young servant girl. The older woma
n waited at a distance.

  “My sister,” she explained. “But truly, Zygote will not look kindly upon us now. We must depart also. First, needs must I direct thee to thy heinous destination. Methinks it poor thanks for thy deed.” With that, she scratched a map in the dirt with a stick, and hurried to catch up with her sister.

  The directions were simple, and they made swift progress until they came upon a narrow swinging bridge stretched across a wide chasm with a small stream below. It did not look dangerous since it hung only a few feet above the water, but such bridges were difficult to navigate if a person wasn’t accustomed to them, and one could find oneself tumbling off the side into the wet.

  “I suggest we proceed one at a time,” Cling Ling said, testing the ropes. “More risks upsetting the balance, though I think it is strong enough to bear the weight of two.”

  “Why take chances?” Herb said. “Ladies first,” he added, sadistically. But he had trouble suppressing his smile; he intended to take the first risk himself.

  “Thanks.” Spring smiled wryly. She suspected he would enjoy seeing her swaying hips as she progressed over the bridge. Yet, that thought was not too unpleasant. She made a playful face at him, and stepped on, gripping tightly to both sides of the rope handles. They felt firm.

  “Wait—I didn’t mean—” he protested, too late.

  “I know,” she said.

  She walked forward at a steady pace, neither fast nor slow, lest she bounce or swing. She had just passed the midway point above the deepest part of the stream when the ropes jerked sideways. Spring cried out as she lost her balance and stumbled toward the edge.

  23

  Child's Play

  Spring had good reflexes, so was not thrown. She steadied herself, then looked to see what could have caused the action, but could see nothing. How mysterious! And then again, maybe not. If Herb Moss thought dunking her in the water was a joke, she would soon fix him. It would be just like him to jerk on the ropes once her back was turned.

  Spring continued across, planning her revenge. Perhaps a good tickling. It would be an excuse to get really close to him, and—and what? What was she really thinking of?

  Suddenly, a horrible hairy monster arm appeared at the side of the bridge. It could easily pull her into the chasm with him if it tried.

  Herb and Cling Ling could see the scene from where they stood. Herb started to run for the bridge, but Cling Ling restrained him. The monster was in charge of the bridge now, and could shake Spring off into his clutches before they could ever reach her. Yet he had made no other move, so they should plan how to help her.

  Herb might wade out as close as he dared and attract the monster’s attention, while Cling Ling scurried onto the bridge and caught Spring before she fell. It was not far, but there could be unknown dangers, jagged rocks, and so forth.

  But now the monster was actually speaking.

  “Who is crossing over my bridge?” growled the gruff voice. “I must teach you a lesson by eating you up.”

  A talking monster? Why not, thought Spring. This was a fairy tale world created by Zygote, so—

  Of course. No wonder the tines sounded familiar. This was a child’s story. Another myth like the Gorgon incident. If she played along correctly, she might escape unharmed after all.

  “Oh, please, please, Mr. Monster, please don’t eat me,” she begged, speaking loudly so both Herb and Cling Ling could hear. “I am so small. But my friend Herb, who is to follow soon,” she almost shouted, “is much larger and meatier. Don’t spoil your appetite on me. He’s a real meal,” she concluded, warming to the part.

  “What?” Herb blinked. He knew she was afraid of the monster, but to throw him to it seemed a bit unkind.

  Cling Ling noted his expression in amusement, chuckling through his leaves.

  “Really, Cling Ling. I see nothing humorous in this situation. We have to do something.”

  “So sorry. It is but another legend. A story for children. An Old Earth nursery tale of three goats who must cross a bridge to eat grass, and how they tricked the Troll, another monster, to achieve their goal. Mistress Moon is aware of this story. She is trying to tell us.”

  “Oh,” Herb said, abashed. He should have remembered that story, himself. Paradise was derived from New Earth and had the dubious benefit of much human culture. His personal favorite had been “Jack and the Beanstalk.” He hoped they wouldn’t encounter any giants here.

  Spring had made it safely to the other side of the chasm and stood waving to them from the bank. Cling Ling gestured for Herb to go next. “You are the middle goat, my friend. I fear the Troll and I may have to wrestle, but I feel I am a match for him,” he said confidently.

  Coached in his part by Cling Ling, Herb stepped onto the bridge and proceeded dubiously toward the center. The monster appeared as if on cue.

  “Who’s that tramping over my bridge?” he growled.

  Though shaking within, Herb followed through with his lines and was soon stepping off the other side to join Spring. They watched as Cling Ling approached the center. This time the monster leaped upon the bridge and engaged the traveller in combat.

  First, he attempted throwing the Vinese off balance into the water, but Cling Ling clung on with several of his tendrils, countering the lashes and swipes of the monster with his Julep-so holds and thrusts. He gave a fine account of himself, and in the end, it was the monster who tumbled into the water.

  Cling Ling raced quickly across with a combination of rolling and swinging his vines. He was on the other side before the monster could swim up again.

  “I congratulate you on your perceptiveness, Mistress Moon,” Cling Ling said. “It was a simple problem to overcome once we knew the rules.”

  “Easy for you,” Spring laughed. “I don’t know how Herb or I would have defeated him alone.”

  Herb blushed with shame, realizing that was probably true, but no man liked to feel a woman had so little confidence in his abilities, especially a woman whose admiration he valued.

  Spring couldn’t help noticing Herb’s color transformation, and saw she had erred. In trying to praise Cling Ling, she had inadvertently insulted Herb. Oh, men and their stupid egos! He should know how much she thought of him by now.

  “Of course, I was only speaking for myself,” she quickly added. “I know Herb would have thought of something.”

  That made it a little better. Herb said nothing, but Spring could tell it had taken the sting off. When she reached for his hand to help her over a large branch that blocked their path, he kept holding it as they continued on their way to Zygote’s castle. Spring smiled with relief, for now she knew all was forgiven.

  In the deceptively idyllic setting, it was almost possible to forget why they had come there. Herb felt Spring’s hand in his, realizing he had been holding it longer than necessary. She hadn’t objected. Could it be she enjoyed his company as much as he did hers?

  Stealing a glance at her face, he saw she was deep in thought, walking along automatically as he guided her. That explained it. She probably wasn’t even aware of their contact. He, however, was only too aware.

  A part of him wished that time could stand still, so he wouldn’t have to relinquish the moment. Yet time could not, and he felt guilty for even thinking about it. Lily needed him more than ever. There was no place for dalliance while her life remained in peril. Or, thereafter, he reminded himself, sharply. It was this place that sent his notions wandering. So unreal. Things would be right when he was back on Paradise where he belonged. He was sure of it.

  Cling Ling left them alone again, while he forged ahead. Because of his leafy camouflage, it was easier for him to scout unnoticed. After the bridge incident, he wanted to check out the route, so as to be apprised of any more potential dangers.

  Now they sat waiting for his return in a small clearing. Spring surveyed the pleasant surroundings. The morning walk through the forest had been delightful, once the Troll was behind them. Golden beams of sunlight
pierced through the tree tops, sprinkles of colorful wild flowers and mushrooms dotted the lush carpet of grass, and butterflies fluttered and honeybees buzzed. The serenity of nature confronted them at every turn. Too bad it had to end.

  “This is lovely,” Spring said.

  “Maybe,” Herb said.

  “Why? What are you saying?” she asked, puzzled.

  “Only that Cling Ling is right. After that ugly bridge monster, we have to stay alert for others. I recall many an Old Earth fairy tale took place deep in forests just like this one.”

  “Um. The cookie children and the old witch woman. The little blonde girl and the bears,” she agreed.

  “Bears? Let’s see, aren’t those fur-bearing animals, like—like chippermunks?”

  Spring laughed. “Herb, it would take about a hundred of your chippermunks to make up one small bear. If you see one, you’ll recognize it. But I hope not. I’ve had enough monsters for one day.”

  “Yes, me too. I hope Cling Ling hasn’t run into any ogres or giants out there. He should be back soon.”

  “Does my company bore you?” Spring asked teasingly.

  “No. I mean, I just wish we could get there. To the castle. To Lily, I mean.”

  “Yes, I know exactly what you mean,” she said soberly. Fairy tale it might be, but would there be a happy ending? Soon, they would know. Was Lily alive? Could they defeat Zygote? Reality would come crashing down all too soon.

  “Sit back, Herb, and I’ll tell you a tale,” she said grimly.

  “A fairy tale?” Herb smiled, not noticing her change of mood.

  “Of course, a fairy tale. I’ll tell you ‘The Dragon’s Bride.’ “

  THE DRAGON’S BRIDE

  As told by Spring Gabriel

  A dragon’s breath can melt a good knight’s armor at twenty paces. Is it any wonder many a fair damsel has grown to old age awaiting rescue by a handsome hero? Princess Qwendell did not intend to be counted among their number.