The centaur was proceeding vigorously, psychologically buoyed by Ivy's supposed Enhancement. But the stream was extremely winding and clogged with rocks and brush, so full speed was impossible. The goblins were running along the ground on either side, evidently small enough to duck under the worst of the obstructions, so were not falling behind fast enough. “We've out to get well ahead before we reach the Gap,” Ivy said.
“Why, if you know the Gap Dragon?” Grey asked.
“Well, for one thing Stanley isn't likely to be right there when we arrive. For another—”
“Oops, we're here!” Donkey said, skidding to a halt as the landscape opened out ahead of them.
“Rats!” Ivy swore. “The gobs are too close!”
“I'll run along the edge,” the centaur said, turning abruptly. “I believe there's a passable descent not far to the east.”
Now Grey got his first clear look at the Gap. Suddenly he felt dizzy. It was a sheer drop-off hundreds, no thousands of feet down to a bottom shrouded in fog. The morning sunbeams cut sharply across the cliffs of it, looking like sparkling ramps to the depths. The stream plunged over the edge and plummeted so far that there was no sound of its landing. No wonder they needed time to find a safe way into it!
“Somehow I don't think we're in Florida any more, Toto,” he murmured, awed. How could he explain this in terms of the close-to-sea-level terrain they had ridden through on the way to No Name Key?
“What?” Ivy asked over the wind of their motion beside that terrifying descent. Her greenish hair was fluttering back in his face.
“The ramparts of my disbelief have just taken a hit,” he explained.
“It's about time!”
The goblins burst into view again, trying to cut them off. But Donkey made a phenomenal leap and sailed over their heads, and landed running. Again they were left behind. But they did not give up; they charged along the brink of the great chasm, waving their clubs and throwing their rocks, which were missing by a less-than-comfortable margin.
“There it is!” Donkey cried, drawing up before a narrow side crack that extended from the major Gap.
Grey looked. There was a little path that crept down from the crack and found some rubble at the edge of the main chasm. It did seem to wind on down, but they would have to go single file, and slowly. The goblins would be upon them long before they could complete any part of that tortuous descent.
“There's a great multiflavor pie tree,” Ivy said. “I'll enhance it, and hold them off with pies while you two get down.”
“I'll hold them off,” Grey said.
“But you don't believe in the magic!” she protested.
“Those are crabapple pies, pepperpot pies—they can be really effective, if I—”
“I believe in you,” Grey said firmly. “And I'm beginning to wonder about magic. Now just get out of here. If I can't make a stand to defend the woman I love, what good am I?”
She looked ready to argue, but the centaur spoke. “He's right. He can do it. You go down first.”
Ivy made her decision. “No, you go first. Donkey. I'll follow right after I've Enhanced that tree.”
Without further word the centaur started down the path.
Sand and pebbles skidded out under his hooves and slid down the cliffside, but the path held.
Ivy ran to the tree and flung her arms about its trunk.
Grey rubbed his eyes; he could have sworn the pies were growing, becoming larger and better defined in seconds.
Then Ivy stepped clear. “Follow as soon as you can,” she said. “I'll fetch Stanley, so if you're in doubt, just keep throwing pies at them.” She kissed him fleetingly.
“I'm Enhancing your strength, aim, and endurance. Believe in me!” Then she was gone, into the crack.
Believe in her? When she put it that way, he had to!
The goblins were already appearing. Grey looked at the tree. Now his eyes seemed much more finely attuned; he recognized every variety of pie. He grabbed a pepperpot pie whose peppers looked huge.
The first goblin charged up, waving his club. “I'll destroy ya, creep!” the goblin yelled.
Grey calmly threw the pie in his face. The peppers puffed into powder. The goblin broke into a spasm of sneezing. He sneezed so hard that his little body flew backwards into the goblin behind him, and a cloud of pepper surrounded them both. Soon several goblins were sneezing—and several sneezed themselves right off the brink of the precipice.
Well, now! This seemed to work well enough. The goblins seemed to have used up all their stones, and there were none nearby for them to pick up. That meant that they were confined to their clubs, which meant they had to get close to be effective. Which meant in turn that he could score on a goblin with a pie before a goblin could score with a club. There were about thirty goblins, but the approach was narrow, so that only one could come at him at a time.
He felt like Horatius at the bridge: the bold Roman gatekeeper who had held off the attacking Etruscan army while the Romans chopped down the bridge that was the only access to the city. One man could indeed hold off an army—if the army had to send just one man against him at a time, and he was able to slay that man. But he had to be good.
Ivy's Enhancement really seemed to have taken, because he felt phenomenally good. His aim with the first pie had been perfect, and he felt strength to heave them much farther if he needed to. He felt like a superman. Maybe it was the power of love. Goblins, beware!
The goblins completed their sneezing; the cloud of pepper had finally dissipated. That one pie seemed to have taken out about three of them. Maybe it wasn't magic, but it had worked well enough!
A goblin charged him, club lifted. Grey quickly plucked a crabapple pie, chose his moment, and hurled it with uncanny accuracy at the little brute. It smote the nasty little man right in the face, and the apple fell away—except for a crab pincer that had fastened on the goblin's ugly nose.
“Youff!” the goblin cried, spinning around and banging into the one behind him.
“You sure are crabby!” the other retorted.
“I'll crab you, “ the first exclaimed. He ripped the pincer off his nose and thrust it at the other's eye. The pincer snapped at the eyeball.
“Oh, yeah?” the second exclaimed, swinging at the first with his club.
There was a melee, in the course of which three more goblins fell off the edge.
Another goblin charged Grey. Grey plucked a popcorn pie and hurled it, again with stunning accuracy. He was amazed at himself; he had never been a hurler like this! If it wasn't Ivy's Enhancement, what else could account for it?
The pie struck the goblin on the chest, and the popcorn popped like a series of tiny firecrackers. Bits of puffed corn flew into his face and beyond him into the faces of the ones following. Yet another spot quarrel broke out, as one goblin blamed his neighbor for the corn and swung his club. Two more goblins fell off the ledge.
Grey discovered that he liked this type of combat. It was mainly the goblins' own orneriness that got them boosted into the chasm. If they just quit coming, no more would be hurt. He had plenty of pies remaining.
Another goblin charged. Grey picked a pecan pie. Once more his aim and force were uncanny; he scored on the goblin's big head before the creature got at all close. The pie crust clanged like a can, and its contents soaked the goblin with yellow juice. “Oooo, ugh!” the goblin cried, outraged. “You peed on me!”
So that was the magic of the pecan! He had assumed it was a nut pie. Well, he had been wrong. He was glad he hadn't tried to eat it.
Other goblins charged in turn. He picked other pies and shoved them in their faces, long distance. He should have been tired by this time, but he wasn't; his strength was maintaining just as had that of the centaur. He hurled a shoe-fly pie, and its shoe kicked the rear of a goblin and booted the goblin over the edge. He threw a papaya pie, and it sang “I'm papaya the sailor man!” and whistled as it slugged the goblin.
At last h
e was down to two pies, having used all the rest. Three goblins remained. He knew he couldn't afford to let even one remain above while he descended the path, because that one could scuff the sand and perhaps start a little avalanche that would destroy his route. How could he be sure of taking out three with only two pies?
Well, he would just have to go hand to hand with the last one. He glanced at the pies: one was custard, the other pineapple. Neither looked promising, but they would have to do.
He picked the custard. “Custard's last stand!” he cried as he heaved it at the charging goblin.
The custard struck squarely on the ugly face. The gloppy stuff wrapped itself around the bulbous head and clung tenaciously. The goblin pawed at it, trying to get his eyes clear, but before he succeeded he stepped off the cliff and was gone. Only the fading sound of his cussing remained.
Well, it was a cuss-tard pie.
The last two goblins consisted of the subchief, who had tried to stop them before, and one henchman. “Charge him together, and one of us will get him!” he said.
“But there's no room!”
“Yes, there is, if we charge slowly and carefully and keep in step.” And indeed there was, this way, for the narrow ledge had been widened by the tramp of the prior goblins' big feet. The two approached carefully.
Grey was worried. The enemy had finally gotten smart!
He had only the one pie left, and while he could score on one goblin, the other would be able to charge him from close range and perhaps sweep him off the ledge in the manner of a football blocker. These goblins didn't seem to care what losses they took, as long as they got him.
Well, he would just have to use what he had. He picked the pineapple pie and hefted it. He would throw it at the subchief, who was surely the more cunning and motivated of the two. Then he would handle the other in whatever way he could.
“Watch out—that's a pineapple!” the subchief cried.
Both goblins halted. Then they started backing away.
Grey was surprised. Was this a ruse? Were they pretending fear, so that he would relax and then they would turn on him and catch him off guard? He resolved not to be drawn out of position.
The two goblins retreated all the way back out of sight.
This was curious indeed! What were they up to? He didn't dare try to follow them—but if he started down the path, they could return at any moment and wreak mischief on his head.
Maybe he could fake them out. He got down on the path, then squatted, so that he could duck down into the small crevice. They would think he had started down when he hadn't; then when they came, he could smite one of them with the pie.
He waited. Sure enough, soon he heard them returning.
He waited until they sounded close enough, then stood up, pie ready.
The two goblins were there—but so was another creature. It looked like a male sheep with horrendously broad and curled horns.
The subchief spied him. “So it was a trick. Mundane! You can't fool a cunning goblin. And your pie can't stop this battering ram!”
The sheep charged, head down. A battering ram! That certainly could knock him off the edge!
Grey, poised with the pie, decided to ditch it. Maybe the ram would hurtle right past him if he ducked at the last moment.
He hurled the pie over the head of the ram, at the two waiting goblins. It struck the subchief—and detonated.
Juice and pineapple bits exploded outward, and both goblins were blown off the edge.
So that was the pun in pineapple! It was made of grenades! He should have guessed. No wonder the goblins had been so wary of it.
But his distraction caused him to wait too long. The battering ram was almost upon him, unstoppable, and he had no time to dodge it.
“No!” he cried. “It can't end like this!”
The ram set his hooves and skidded to a stop just as he reached Grey. He was so close that his nose nudged Grey's nose.
“Why, you're just an ordinary sheep,” Grey said, petting the animal. “You don't mean me any harm, now that the goblins are gone. Why don't you go off and graze?”
The ram nodded almost as if he understood, and commenced browsing on the adjacent foliage. No battering ram at all!
Now at last it was safe to start down the path. Grey proceeded.
It turned out to be a tricky descent, but manageable. He saw the centaur's hoofprints, and now and then Ivy's, so would have known he was on the right trail, had there been any doubt. The face of the cliff was awesome, but the path was secure, and he did not feel the fright of heights he might have.
He wondered about that. He felt better, and had done better than he ever would have expected. He had been cool and poised throughout, and handled the goblins almost perfectly. Ivy had said she would enhance him, and he did seem enhanced—but could his love for her account for it?
And those pies—they had acted in ways real pies never would have. Science would be strained to account for those effects, but magic had no problem. As for that centaur how could anything but magic account for him? There was such a thing as gene splicing, but it didn't work that way; a man could not be grafted onto a horse. Not in this century!
And of course there was the Gap Chasm he was now climbing down into. He could not doubt its reality! But how could he have come to it in the real world? If this were a mere amusement park setting, how could there be anything of this sheer scale?
Was he coming to believe in magic after all? Maybe he was, because Ivy did, and he did love her. If she loved him enough to marry him, he should love her enough to share her belief. Maybe that didn't make much objective sense, but it made a lot of emotional sense.
At last he made it down to the base of the chasm, as afternoon was setting in. Where had Ivy and Donkey gone?
He knew the answer: Ivy had mounted Donkey, enhanced him, and he had galloped off indefatigably to locate the Gap Dragon. It might be a while before they found that creature.
He looked around. The bottom of the chasm was like a long, narrow valley, with green grass and a river crossing it, from the stream they had followed above. He walked to it and threw himself down for a drink. Beside it grew some lady slipper plants, with an assortment of delicate feminine slippers. Farther along was a potato chip bush.
Good—he was hungry, too. He sat down beside it and started picking and eating the chips.
Magic? If this was magical, yes, he believed in magic.
Now at last he was tired. Whatever reserve of strength he had drawn on was gone, and he needed to rest. He leaned against a stone and relaxed.
His eye traced the short course of the river across the valley cleft. It did not turn to run along the valley, but continued on up the far cliff in a reverse waterfall, finally disappearing over the top. That was nice; no sense in flooding the Gap, in case there was no decent exit for the water.
His eyes closed. He hoped Ivy and Donkey returned soon. Certainly it was pointless to go looking for them; he had to wait right here where they could find him.
Up the cliff? Suddenly he blinked awake, looking again across the valley. Then he lurched to his feet and followed the river across.
There was no doubt: the water made a right-angle turn and sailed upwards in a geyser. It did not fall back to earth as a real geyser would; rather it seemed to slow as it neared the top, and to curve, finding the brink and going beyond it.
Grey shook his head. Now it was clear: he had better believe in magic! Otherwise he would believe he was crazy.
He returned to the rock near the potato chip bush and settled down again. In a moment he was deep in a snooze.
He woke to the sound of a series of thuds that shook the ground. Whomp, whomp, WHOMP! He jumped up, alarmed; he didn't like the sound of that!
Something was definitely coming in the dusk. He saw steam blowing upward in gusts. That must be the Gap Dragon—but where was Ivy?
Then Donkey galloped up. “Here he is!” the centaur cried, spying Grey.
; Immediately the dragon veered. It had a horrendous big head from which the steam puffed regularly, and a long supple torso—and there, riding the top of one arcing coil, was Ivy!
The dragon slowed as it came up. Ivy dismounted and ran across to Grey. “You made it!” she cried as she tackled him in a breath-knocking hug. “I was so worried!”
“Uh, nothing to it,” Grey said. “I mean, after you enhanced those pies for me, and enhanced me too, so I could handle all those goblins—”
She looked at him, her face shining. “You mean you believe?”
“I guess I do, now. I mean, after what I've seen—”
She kissed him passionately. “Oh, wonderful!” she exclaimed between kisses. “Now it's perfect!”
Then she introduced him to the dragon: “This is Stanley Steamer, the Gap Dragon,” she said, hugging the dragon's horrendous head. The steam stopped for a moment; the dragon was evidently holding his breath so as not to burn her. “And Stanley, this is Grey Murphy, my betrothed.” The dragon acknowledged with a twin jet of steam through his nostrils; it seemed that any friend of Ivy's was a friend of his. This was just as well, because he had a huge mouthful of teeth, and great claws on every one of his six feet. This was certainly no creature to run afoul of!
Then they settled down for the night, because the darkness was closing. The top of the chasm walls remained bright, but the shadow started below. The dragon curled around them, and the three piled pillows Ivy found and lay in the center. It was very nice.
“Yes, the river does flow uphill, here,” Ivy explained in the morning. “It's the only way it can get out of the Gap. There's another, larger river further east that goes the opposite way. We could ride one of them up, but that really isn't safe. So we'll just have to take the tedious footpath up, near the invisible bridge.”
“Invisible bridge?”
She smiled. “I'll show it to you, when we get there! In fact, we'll cross the Gap on it, because the path up is really better on the north side. Then we'll be on the enchanted path, and on our way to Castle Roogna.” But then she sobered abruptly, looking pensive.
“Is something wrong?” Grey asked.
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