The Dragon on The Border

by Gordon R. Dickson

  He wrote on the imagined blackboard on the inside of his forehead:

  ME, APPEAR LIKE→EWEN MACDOUGALL

  He felt suddenly loose inside his clothes and armor. He had completely forgotten how literal spells could be. He now had not only the face of MacDougall, but the smaller body of the other man, after all.

  Happily, the stiffness of his armor hid most of this. In particular, his breastplate held the surcoat out as impressively as before. Jim sighed. No wonder the magicians' Accounting Office would rate him no higher than a Class D magician, even when he was apprenticed to one of this world's only three AAA+ rated ones. He would probably never, thought Jim glumly, be anything but a Class D.

  He pushed the thought from him as he and Dafydd, with their pack horses, continued to approach the camp of the Hollow Men's leaders.

  They saw no signs of a sentinel or anyone else; but they smelled the camp before they got to it and when they stepped inside, all the clothing and armor in sight was not lying on the ground but up in the air, molding human shapes.

  Jim rode without pausing into the clearing, Dafydd beside him and the laden horses following.

  "I had hardly believed the wolf when he said they ate and drank, when playing at being alive," murmured Dafydd in his ear. "But plainly he was only truthful."

  So, even his fourteenth-century nose had remarked the powerful stench of the camp. It smelled like a compound of human waste and decaying food. At least, Jim hoped that it was decaying food, and not the decaying corpse of some unfortunate, present-day mortal who had had the misfortune to cross their path.

  But he could see no signs of a corpse. The clothed and partly clothed Hollow Men were a clump in the center of the clearing. He rode directly to them without saying a word, and pulled up his horse perhaps six feet from them.

  Some of the clothed or semiclothed figures either in iron or cloth immediately moved around him to approach the chest-carrying horse behind him.

  "Leave that load alone!" snapped Jim. "If you simply rob me now, no more will follow!"

  A stream of profanity and obscenity came from the closed visor of a fully armored figure in the front of the cluster of Hollow Men, ordering those who had gone forward to come back. They did so, more slowly than Jim would have liked.

  "So you're the MacDougall," said the suit of armor. "For myself, I am Lord Eshan. We seem to be Lords, both of us, do we not?"

  "One might say so," answered Jim, as indifferently as he could. He made use of one of the gestures of the MacDougall, which was to pull forth a kerchief from his sword belt, and wave it gently back and forth under his nose. "Hell of a stench here!"

  "You'll like us as you find us, MacDougall," said the suit of armor. "Now, you and your man get down off your horses and we'll talk."

  The armor turned to half face those behind and around him.

  "That means the rest of you can listen, but you don't talk. I do the talking!" he said to the articles of clothing and armor clustered there. "Now back off and bring us some wine and three cups!"

  Jim and Dafydd dismounted and sat down cross-legged, facing the suit of armor, which had taken a seat on the ground cross-legged before them. A shirt, but nothing else—in fact more of a nightshirt than a shirt—wafted up to him with the empty left sleeve end some inches behind a wine skin, which still had horse fur on the outside and was crudely sewn; and three cups that clustered in mid-air with their handles together, a few inches in front of the equally empty right sleeve.

  The invisible hands at the end of the sleeves put the cups on the ground before Jim, Dafydd and the armored figure, and poured them full from the wine skin, which was then restoppered and laid handy to the right gauntlet of the armored figure. The armored Hollow Man raised his cup to his visor, opened it and tilted it backward. When he sat it down again it was empty, and he refilled it. He made no effort to refill either Jim's or Dafydd's cup.

  Meanwhile, both Jim and Dafydd had lifted their cups to their lips. As it approached Jim's mouth, the wine within it seemed to smell to Jim with the same odor as the rest of the camp. As for the cup itself, it was old and dirty.

  However, it occurred to Jim that men many years dead could hardly be carrying infectious diseases around with them, though decaying food or drink could be. So, with an effort he put the cup to his lips and tilted it, but did not allow the wine within to touch his upper lip or enter his mouth. He sat the cup down again and as he did so he saw Dafydd also setting down his own cup, the wine in it apparently untouched.

  Jim fluffed the handkerchief under his nose.

  "You've already heard from someone else, I take it," he said disdainfully to the figure in armor, "of what the King of Scotland requires from you. Now, I have come directly from him, as a special messenger. Our concern is, of course, that both sides keep their bargain—yours—

  He paused disdainfully for a second.

  "And, of course, ours. Consequently, the payment will be made in parts. Once you have performed your share of the work by foraying into England and throwing the English into as much panic as possible, the Scottish army will eventually catch up with you; and then your duty may be considered to be over. This was our understanding of the agreement. Is it yours?"

  "By Mithras, but it is!" said the Hollow Man in iron. "Now open up that chest you've got strapped to the horse's back there."

  "One moment more." Jim held up his hand. "You agree very readily; but you've not heard all I have to say. The final payment will be forthcoming once the Scottish army catches up with you. That is agreeable to you?"

  "It is. Now, let's see the color of your gold!"

  "A moment more," said Jim.

  Dafydd stood up beside him on his feet and stretched with his arms over his head. Putting his arms down, he let the strung bow slip off his shoulder, and catching it in his hands, almost absent-mindedly pushed the bowstring up so that it was strung.

  He did this as if not even noticing what he was doing. But he kept the strung bow in his left hand and his right hand hooked by a thumb to his belt just above his open quiver of arrows.

  "This man of mine," said Jim, "is a bowman I borrowed from the castle of a knight nearby. He's not a bad fellow; but he must play with his bow and arrows all the time. Would you believe it? He could draw and put an arrow through you before anyone around here could move. And at this distance, would you believe it also, these damned English longbows send an arrow right through armor as if it was merely cloth?"

  "You're threatening me?" snarled the armored figure.

  "I? Threaten you? Of course not," said Jim. "Just making polite conversation, don't you know, as we Lords together are like to do, even if the lower orders have less manners."

  "I think it's time to see the gold," said Lord Eshan.

  But there was not quite the certainty to his demand that there had been before. His visor was facing toward Dafydd, who had taken an arrow from his quiver to examine it and now was rubbing its notch up and down on the string of his bow.

  He went on.

  "You may not be able to see them; but there are over twenty of us here. One bowman, whoever he is, can't put an arrow in each one of us before we cut you to pieces!"

  "Of course not! No, no," said Jim. "Even if we thought of such a thing, the only one Dafydd would be interested in putting an arrow through would be you."

  "You don't frighten me," snarled the armored figure. "Kill me, and in forty-eight hours I'll be alive again!"

  "But in the meantime, someone else may have taken the leadership of you Hollow Men," said Jim, lazily gazing about the camping area. "Might not that be so?"

  "No, it's not so!" snarled the armored figure. But still, to Jim's ear, complete conviction was lacking. After a moment the other went on again. "All right, have your say of whatever else there is to be said. Then we get to business."

  "Well," said Jim, almost dubiously, "perhaps, after all, we should start by opening the chest now."

  The Hollow Men behind their leader did not wai
t for permission from him. They made a rush on the pack horse; and Jim heard the chest thump to the ground, with a jingling noise inside it, as if the rope holding it to the horse had been cut.

  "Why, damme," Jim said, "there was no need to cut the ropes. We'll need that chest later on again, to bring the rest of the gold."

  "It's nearly empty!" a shout went up behind Jim. "Eshan, there's only a handful of coins in the bottom! There's not even enough here for us, let alone for the others!"

  "What's that you say?" Eshan lumbered to his feet, and Jim also got quickly to his.

  "You better get some answers quick, Eshan!" shouted the same voice. "You're the one talked everyone into this. Here, we get no more coin than we'd pick up from any handful of travelers!"

  "By the bones of St. Peter," said Jim languidly, "but you do jump to conclusions, you Hollow Men. There were those who thought you were completely untrustworthy; and that we were fools to trust you. Nonetheless, our King decided to do so. I have much more to say. You'd best listen to it."

  "All right, all of you back here behind me," said Eshan. "We want the gold, don't we? All right then, we've got to listen then, don't we? Back with you, all of you. We'll hear what he has to say; and then if the answers don't suit we'll know what to do!"

  "And just in case one of you may linger behind, with nothing on to betray his presence behind us," said Jim, flicking his kerchief at a fly which landed for a moment on one of his knees, "you should be advised that there is another one of us who is out in the woods now watching everything that's going on here. If someone of your band should try to creep up unseen on Dafydd, here, from behind, or myself, he would warn us immediately."

  Another stream of invective came from the armored figure.

  "—You lie!" he wound up. "We know these woods. We saw you coming before you knew you were close to us. There was only the two of you at any time."

  "But you're quite wrong, you know," said Jim. He raised his voice, "isn't he wrong? My friend, you are out there, watching aren't you?"

  "I am," came back a harsh voice that was so close that it seemed almost to be in the clearing with them.

  There was a moving together of the group behind the armored figure, and a muttering among them.

  "… That was the voice of a wolf," Jim heard one of them saying in low, uneasy tones.

  "You've got a wolf out there?" demanded Eshan.

  "By all the Apostles," said Jim, calmly but also foppishly, "but you do ask questions! Now, to this business of how you are to get the rest of the gold. You're ready to hear that now?"

  "What do you think I've been after, ever since you sat down?" demanded Eshan. "Yes, that's what we want to hear. And quickly!"

  "As to quickly," said Jim in the same tone, once more sniffing delicately at his handkerchief, "I am even more eager than you to have this conversation over and be away from this unbearable stink. Well, then, it's very simple. I have selected a place which is drawn on a map that I give you now—"

  He passed over a piece of white cloth, with a rough map, drawn with charcoal, of the place he had selected within the Cheviot Hills; and laid it on the ground before Eshan.

  "Since you know these woods so well, I'm sure you'll have no trouble finding it," he said, "and when you do reach it you'll know you've found the correct place by the fact that there will be a flag there, an ordinary stick with a piece of white cloth tied to it. You follow me?"

  He looked at Eshan.

  "Yes, yes!" said Eshan. "Get on with it."

  "Very well," said Jim. "You will also recognize it by how it looks. It is backed on a couple of sides by cliffs and there is a sort of ledge on which you, m'Lord Eshan, and I, can supervise the handing out of gold to each one of the Hollow Men. Because, you see, we do not really trust you. We feel that each Hollow Man will have to be paid individually, by himself."

  He paused again, to give his words emphasis. Eshan said nothing. Jim went on.

  "So you and I and Dafydd here, and perhaps one or two others, will stand on this ledge with the gold, and the individual Hollow Men may each come up, in turn. As each comes, he will be given his first payment of one-quarter of the gold due him. The second payment of three-quarters, as I said, is to come once the Scottish army has caught up with you deep in English territory, and if you have done properly. You are agreeable to these terms?"

  "Yes, damn you! Go on!" said Eshan.

  "You should meet us where this map shows, then, every Hollow Man who wishes to be part of this gold-gaining expedition, ten days from now. I will attempt to be there by no later than mid-morning; but I may be as late as noon. But everyone who is a Hollow Man and wishes to be a part of this foray must already be there. If any come after I have arrived, they will not be accepted and not paid."

  "May your grave be defiled by donkeys!" snarled Eshan. "These last terms won't do for us! Only us, the leaders, will collect the gold and hand it out. We don't trust you, either."

  Jim shrugged and made as if to get up.

  "Well, then," he said, "there's no more to be said—

  "Sit down again!" said Eshan. "Yes, I said sit down! Maybe we could do it your way. Maybe your way is best. All the lads will want to be sure that they each get their fair share; and this is the way to let them make sure they do. Maybe it's a good plan. All right. Ten days from now in this place you've mentioned. Don't worry. But be sure you bring enough gold. Because every Hollow Man is in this!"

  Pulling the dagger from its scabbard on the sword belt on his side opposite where his sword hung, he pushed its point into the spot Jim had marked on the piece of paper. He turned his head to look back over his shoulder at those behind him.

  "Any objections?" he said, in a dangerous voice.

  None of those behind him said anything.

  He turned back to present his closed visor to Jim.

  "It's settled, then. Ten days. But we better find the flag, and you better bring the gold as you say, and no tricks!"

  "Oh, tricks," said Jim disdainfully, tucking his kerchief into his sword belt as he stood up. "We leave such child's play up to you."

  He turned and walked back to the horses where he looked down at the chest, on the ground with its top flung back, but no gold of any kind within it.

  "This chest will need to be put back on the horse," he said, looking back at Eshan. "Either that, or we will have no way to bring you the gold when the time comes, and consequently it will not be brought."

  "Fix it!" growled Eshan. Half a dozen of the partially clad Hollow Men apparently moved forward, and went to work. Within a few moments the chest was once more trussed up.

  "Excellent!" said Jim, mounting, as Dafydd reshouldered his bow, requivered his arrow and mounted beside him, picking up the lead rope of the pack horse. "Now, as evidence of our deep trust and faith in you, here is a payment for you, the leaders—since leaders should always receive more than followers."

  Jim reached in behind and under his saddle and pulled out a roll of cloth that seemed very heavy. He threw it toward the Hollow Men. It made an arc of maybe eight feet in the air and hit the earth with a solid clinking sound.

  The Hollow Men made a rush upon it like hounds on a chunk of thrown meat. Jim and Dafydd turned their horses; and, leading the pack horse with the empty chest upon it, they rode back into the shadow of the woods.

  Jim changed hastily back to himself.

  They had not gone more than enough distance to be well out of sight and sound of the clearing than Snorrl appeared, trotting at the left of Jim's horse.

  "Back to that place you call a castle?" asked the wolf.

  "Yes," said Jim. The matter with the Hollow Men had gone off well, but, strangely, he found himself touched by a sense of foreboding for which there seemed to be no reason.

  "Back to the castle by the most direct route and losing as little time as possible."

  They had been four hours finding the Hollow Men and some three and a half hours in returning. This, plus the time spent at the camp i
tself, had brought them well past noon. So that when they reached the castle, they found out that the process of preparation for battle was already underway.

  Forges were alight, spears were being repointed, swords were being resharpened, armor was being checked and occasionally hammered where a dent had gone too deeply into it. Needless to say all these activities were taking place in wooden outbuildings around the courtyard. Except in the cressets, fire-pots and the stonewalled kitchen at the base of the peel tower, fire was not to be tolerated near the castle and its contents. Always it had been the greatest enemy of the medieval home, whether humble hut or castle.

  Brian, of course, was also outside, supervising the refurbishing of his own armor, while seated on a stool near one of the forges. He caught sight of Jim and Dafydd as they came through the gate.

  "James! Dafydd!" he cried, pushing himself to his feet. He started toward them, but stumbled slightly.

  "Stay there!" shouted Jim. "We'll come to you."

  He rode his horse over to Brian and dismounted there, as did Dafydd, just behind him. Grooms came to lead their horses away and Brian clutched Jim and Dafydd, each of them in turn, in a bear hug.

  "Does it not do your heart good, James," he shouted, "to see so much fair activity going forward toward a good end? When is the bicker to be, James?"

  "Ten days from now," said Jim.

  "Ten days? I shall be whole as a wormless apple and fit as a buck in spring, by that time!" said Brian. "Ah, but it is glad tidings you bring me, James!"

  Privately, Jim thought that even at the unusual rate at which Brian had been healing, he would be in no shape to be part of the battle with the Hollow Men when the time came. How to keep him out of it was a problem that would somehow have to be resolved in Jim's mind between now and when they rode out to the meeting with their allies and their enemies.

  "And the Hollow Men?" cried Brian—he suddenly realized what he was doing and lowered his voice almost to a whisper directed at Jim's nearer ear. "Did they take the bait?"

  "They did," answered Jim, in an equally low voice. Not because he was afraid that the Hollow Men might be listening; but that the many other ears around them might pick up the information; and later speak of it where the word could be picked up and carried back to the Hollow Men, themselves, through those with which the leaders spent their own first installment of gold.