The Dragon At War

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The Dragon At War Page 26

by Gordon R. Dickson


  "Serpents!" screamed another voice suddenly.

  For a moment it seemed the word was not understandable, the scream had been so primitive and plainly a shriek of fright. But it brought instant silence. The words that followed it echoed clearly over all the ship. "Heaven and all angels preserve us! The great serpents! The great serpents, I say!"

  The pirates froze.

  Jim looked out beyond that side of the pirate ship that was not blocked by Edouard's vessel and stared at what he saw. For several hundred yards around them the sea seemed to be boiling.

  Just then, another of the young dragons opened his wings, checking his flight just above them; and instantly half a dozen great heads, and massive, snakelike bodies, broke the stirred-up sea surface, shooting ten to fifteen feet into the air toward the dragon—which, happily, was still well above them. The serpent heads were massive, shaped rather like a bulldog's, but with incredible jaws that now gaped twice the width of any dragon's, and showed teeth half again as large—greenish teeth, streaked with black.

  The dragon which had just appeared saw them, and let out a bellow, which failed only by the fact that it was three octaves too low to be recognizable as the shriek of fear Jim knew it to be.

  The young dragon took off as if a rocket had been attached to his tail—not in level flight across the sea into the distance, as Secoh and the others had done, but straight upward for as much altitude as he could reach.

  The serpents fell back into the sea. Jim himself was shaken as he had never been shaken before.

  Were these the creatures that Rrrnlf, Granfer and Smrgol had spoken of?

  From what Jim had just seen, it seemed impossible. These things outweighed, and undoubtedly outreached, a dragon in every way. Before he could think further on the subject a clamor from the pirate crew distracted him.

  "Let them go! Let them go! They've brought the serpents on us, too!" A third voice was raised above the pirates. Jim woke suddenly to the changed situation. He jogged a still-paralyzed Giles with his elbow.

  "Quick," he said to Giles, "let's carry Brian and get Edouard's crew back on their own ship. Then we can cut loose from this one—before these people here change their minds again!"

  Giles started. Without a word, together they managed to lift Brian from the deck. He was unconscious. Edouard and his crewmen pushed through the crowd to help them, and together they went back over to their own ship. The pirates did not try to stop them.

  Jim had planned to cut the grapnels loose, but when he turned from laying Brian down on their own vessel, he found that the pirate crew had already cut them and were drifting away. The stirring of the waters that had signaled the presence of the sea serpents was calming, now that no more dragons came down. Soon there was nothing but the waves. Meanwhile Jim and Giles were busy getting the armor off Sir Brian to reach his wounds.

  It turned out only one was serious; the stab from Bloody Boots' dagger that had pierced his armor and into his chest. But it had not gone deeply; and Jim's main worry was that it might have carried some bits of Brian's clothing—which were not too clean, though perfectly acceptable by fourteenth-century standards—deep into the body, where they could become sources of infection.

  Happily, the wound had bled heavily. It was this, more than Brian's exhaustion—for indeed he had fought himself to a standstill against the larger man—that had him unconscious now. As soon as Brian was bandaged, Jim turned to Dafydd.

  The bowman was also still unconscious. There was no doubt about his loss of blood. He had bled until he was dangerously white.

  Jim cursed himself in his own mind for not knowing more magic; particularly, the magic that Carolinus used to heal wounds. He had planned to use no more magic than he had used already out of the extra supply Carolinus had gotten him. Carolinus had succeeded in that only after an acrimonious debate with the Accounting Office. Jim had been planning to save whatever was left for an emergency.

  However, if this wasn't an emergency, what was? He turned to Giles.

  "I'm going to have to get Carolinus to heal them," he panted. "You sail into the nearest port with Edouard; and have both Brian and Dafydd carried to a comfortable inn. Don't—repeat don't—let anyone bleed them! They've both lost more blood than they can spare already. In fact, don't let anyone who says he's a leech, a doctor or anything like that touch them. That sort will only help them to their deaths. Carolinus can save them."

  He turned to Edouard.

  "Name me an inn where Sir Giles and the others can be put up," he said, "in the closest English port!"

  "Plymouth," said Edouard, "and the Inn of the Boar and Bear, there."

  "Good," said Jim. "I'll bring Carolinus there or to you on this ship; or see if he won't move them to wherever he is. If Giles, Brian and Dafydd should suddenly disappear, Master shipman, don't be alarmed. They'll have been transported magically to help. What do we owe you? I need to pay you now."

  Edouard smiled crookedly.

  "And I could name any price, indeed," he said, "seeing the one of you who struck the bargain for the trip with me is now unable to tell you what that price was. But I think you have saved the lives of me and my lads here twice over; once from Bloody Boots and once from the serpents. There will be no charge by me for this voyage, sir knight. It's been an honor to carry you and your friends. I'll never forget the Dragon Knight and those with him."

  "You're good, Master shipman," said Jim. "Nonetheless, I'd like to see you paid, anyway. For if we've saved you, your seamanship has saved us. But I'll see you paid eventually—"

  "I will not accept it!" snapped Edouard. "I am neither knight nor noble. But I am a man of the sea; and I have said that this voyage is free to you and those with you. That word stands. You would insult me to offer me payment after that!"

  Jim realized he had touched a fourteenth-century nerve.

  "In that case, my thanks," he said. "Now I'll go."

  Hastily, he wrote the necessary spell on the inside of his forehead:

  MOVE ME TO WHERE IS→CAROLINUS

  The boat and the seascape around him winked out.

  He found himself occupying a seat in a large amphitheater; an amphitheater filled with some hundreds of men and women each wearing a robe of some dark, rich color, such as the robe of a magician-red that Carolinus favored, and most of them wearing tall caps that came to a point at the top.

  In the center of the amphitheater was an oval of smooth, white sand, brilliant under a hot sun in a cloudless sky; and down on the sand stood three individuals. One was a tall, oriental-looking man with a smooth middle-aged face and wearing a purple robe.

  At right angles to this man was a lady, almost as tall, but thin and cadaverous-looking. She wore an intensely dark green robe and a sort of skullcap of the same color. Her face was bony and long and her expression was stern. She stood between the other two like a referee at a boxing match, with the oriental-looking gentleman on her left.

  To her right, with a tall, red cap on his head that looked as if it had seldom been worn, but otherwise dressed in his usual worn, red robe, was Carolinus.

  Chapter Twenty-Seven

  This was all wrong. Jim's magic should have brought him out almost beside the older magician. He felt a sudden panic. Automatically, he tried to stand up and shout to Carolinus. But he could do neither. He could move as much as he wanted while seated, but he could not leave his seat; and when he tried to shout he found he could speak, but only at conversational volume.

  "Youngster, aren't you?" said a voice to his right.

  He turned, desperately, to look into the face of a stocky, possibly middle-aged—it was impossible to tell because he had one of those faces that is absolutely timeless—magician occupying the seat at his right. The other could have been any age from twenty years to sixty. He was not oriental, but he was not exactly western in appearance, either. His robe was a midnight blue; and instead of a peaked cap he wore a flat one rather like a beret, of the same color. His eyes were a bright brow
n and his mouth was smiling.

  It looked like the kind of mouth that smiled readily.

  "I've got to get to Carolinus!" said Jim. "Right away. It's an emergency!"

  "An emergency, or anything else, will have to wait," said his neighbor, "until the duel is over. What's the problem?"

  "Two of my friends—two of Carolinus's closest friends—are nearly dead. I need Carolinus to save them," said Jim. "I'm his apprentice. I know him. I know he'd drop whatever he's doing now, and go help them, if he knew; but I can't seem to get down there and I can't seem to call and get his attention."

  "You won't be able to, either," said his neighbor sympathetically, "until the duel's over. Never mind. Where are these friends of his?"

  "They're just a few miles short of the south shore of England in a boat," said Jim. "Their boat was attacked by pirates. That's why the two of them are in such bad shape."

  "South shore of England," said the man beside him, frowning. "Let me see, now. South shore, you said…"

  He half closed his eyes, which had the effect of making him look slightly more oriental, while still remaining overall very definitely not so.

  "Yes, I think I see them now. A small boat. Six men aboard, one of them with a heavy loss of blood, another's taken a dagger thrust in the chest. Am I right?"

  "Yes!" cried Jim. "Why? Can you see them? Can you heal them? They're battle wounds; and Carolinus said that it was possible to heal battle wounds, though not cure sickness with magic. I'm only a C in rank, so I can't help them, but maybe you—"

  "Martti Lahti, youngster," answered his seatmate. "B+ in rank, myself. No, I can't cure them. It takes a magician like your master for that. But I'll tell you what I can do. That's suspend time on them for—say—half an hour or so. What it means is that during that half-hour they won't be conscious of time going by, their wounds won't bleed, and any damage that's done won't get any worse. In half an hour the duel will be over. Just hope it's your master who wins."

  Jim felt an unsuspected coldness all through him.

  "You don't think he'll lose?" he asked.

  "Lose?" said Lahti. "Well, of course there's always the chance, youngster. Not saying anything against your master, you understand. He's a great magician and a great man. People half the world away know his name and talk of him as they talk of Merlin."

  He paused and looked at Jim as if gauging how much to tell him.

  "But there's a feeling going around," he went on. "It's only fair to say, there's the matter of his getting along in years. The thought that he might be getting just a little past it, you know. Oh, I don't mean anything drastic, but losing his grip a bit. It wouldn't matter ordinarily—but in a contest like this when he's up against a very strong B who's worked at eastern magic ever since he was a child, there's just the possibility…"

  He let his voice trail off.

  "I see," said Jim slowly. He was hollow inside. A sudden fear gripped him. "What'll happen if he loses?"

  "If he loses?" said Lahti. "He'll be fined most of his magic, down to a C level; and the fine will be equally divided among the rest of us—it makes merely a token amount, apiece, you understand, but it's the principle of the thing. Of course he'll still have that knowledge and skill he has now. No one can take those from him. But he'll have to build up magic enough to qualify himself to work again at the AAA+ level—if he ever can—before he's raised to that rank."

  Jim felt coldness all through him. If Carolinus suddenly had no more magic than Jim, how could he transport Dafydd and Brian to Malencontri, which was the only place where they could be nursed properly; and also, would Carolinus have enough magic to heal them?

  "Don't look so worried, youngster," said Lahti. "It may be Son Won Phon who loses."

  "Son Won Phon?" the name exploded from Jim's lips.

  "You know him?" said Lahti. "Yes, it seems he challenged Carolinus over his knowledge of eastern magic and his right to teach it. Were you involved in that?"

  "Yes!" said Jim between his teeth.

  So all this was his fault, for using hypnosis on Ecotti and the King of France. If Brian and Dafydd died now from their wounds because Carolinus couldn't help them, it would be because Jim had used twentieth-century knowledge.

  Meanwhile, he had to sit here and simply watch the duel. And hope. Meanwhile—the thought suddenly occurred to him, Lahti, here beside him, had offered to help.

  "Did you suspend time on them?" he asked, turning to Lahti.

  "Not yet," said the other magician. "I was waiting for you to say definitely whether you wanted me to or not."

  "Yes. Yes, I do. Right away!" said Jim.

  "Then—it's done," said Lahti. He had not stirred a muscle.

  Jim suddenly felt very humble and grateful.

  "Thank you—er—" Jim fumbled over what to call the other. He knew enough about the ranking of magicians by this time to know that a B+ would not be addressed as "Mage" by anyone knowledgeable in the magical field. On the other hand the other was his superior. Jim's instinctive urge to simply put the title "Mr." before the name of the other as he would have back in the twentieth century, would not work here. Metaphorically, he closed his eyes and dived in. "Thank you, Marty Lockty."

  "That's spelled M-a-r-t-t-i L-a-h-t-i," explained the other, kindly. He paused on the double "t" and pronounced the "h" in an odd, breathy way.

  "Oh," said Jim. He considered making another effort to say it more correctly; then wisely decided not to.

  "Well then," said Lahti, "now that that's taken care of you can sit back and we'll watch the rest of the duel. They've been dead even up until this part, your master and Son Won Phon."

  "What's going on?" asked Jim, staring down at the sandy floor of the arena. "None of them seem to be doing anything."

  "They're dueling right now on the third astral plane," Lahti explained. "That means of course none of us can see what's going on. Only the two combatants and the referee there can. But you can feel the flow of magic forces back and forth, can't you?"

  "I—" Jim was about to confess that he could not, when he began to realize that indeed there did seem to be a sort of electricity in the air, darting back and forth between Carolinus and Son Won Phon. It felt a little as if there were invisible lightnings flashing out either from one or the other.

  Suddenly this ceased. Son Won Phon walked over to the woman who apparently was refereeing.

  "What's going on now?" asked Jim, leaning forward in his seat anxiously.

  "Can't you hear—oh, that's right, you're only a C," said Lahti. "You probably won't be able to manage far-hearing until you're at least a B. Son Won Phon is consulting with the Observer. Your master has passed all the tests Son Won Phon has thrown at him so far, in the exercise of eastern magic. Now, Son Won Phon wants to skip the rest of the preliminary tests and jump right to the hardest one of all, the deciding test."

  "What's the Observer got to do with it?" asked Jim.

  Lahti stared at him for a second.

  "Are you sure you're a C?" Lahti said.

  "Yes," confessed Jim, "but it's an unusual situation. Even though I'm a C, I don't know all the things a C ought to know. I'm sort of a special case."

  "Evidently," said Lahti, his brown eyes curious. "Well, the Observer is the one who makes the duel legal. Essentially she speaks for all the rest of us in the seats here. Normally it should be a superior to both the contending magicians who acts as observer. But as you know, there's nothing higher than a AAA+ rank. So it has to be one of the only two others in the world who've got a rank equivalent to Carolinus's. Her name is Kineteté."

  "Kinetee… yuh?" Jim tried to echo Lahti.

  "No," Lahti said. "Kin-eh-tet-é. Accent on the end. She has to give permission for the intervening tests to be skipped."

  Evidently, Kineteté had; because Jim now saw Son Won Phon backing away from her to his original position; with what, even from his seat in the stands, Jim felt was a satisfied smile.

  Abruptly, there was an elephant in
the amphitheater, down on the sand with the three people. Jim had not seen it appear; but he was not surprised. If elephants were wanted in situations like this, undoubtedly this was the way they would be produced.

  "What—" Jim began.

  "Just watch," Lahti told him.

  Son Won Phon had now produced out of thin air what at first glance looked like a tall, thick staff. But it proved not to be that but a roll of material. Setting it up on one end, he began to unwind a long piece of opaque fabric, a sort of dull green in color, around the elephant.

  The fabric stood up by itself as he unrolled it; so that it eventually formed a screen which completely hid the elephant, not only from the gaze of Carolinus and the Observer, but from those in the seats around them.

  Possibly, thought Jim, the magicians in the highest row of the amphitheater might be able to look over the edge, but he rather doubted it. The screen was probably designed so that no one could see over its top edge.

  "Now," said Lahti, "Carolinus will have to see if he can make the elephant disappear."

  Jim stared at him in some surprise.

  "I wouldn't think Carolinus would have any trouble with that," he said.

  "Ah," said Lahti, "but you see, it isn't just making an elephant disappear from inside an ordinary screen. The screen is locked around the elephant by a very cunning lock using the highest form of eastern magic. Carolinus will have to discover the combination to that lock, in order to undo it. He will be given one full minute after the screen is completed."

  As he spoke, Son Won Phon did indeed bring the end of the screening material back around to touch the beginning of it. The two ends joined as if they had been woven together. Son Won Phon stood back, the Observer pointed skyward, and the face of a very large clock—at least several yards in diameter—appeared in mid-air over the sand of the amphitheater.

  A hand started to move around the clock face, past a number of marked divisions that were too numerous for Jim to count. But from the speed with which the hand moved, Jim was sure that it was counting off less than the equivalent of seconds. Already the hand was a third of the way around the circle and sweeping onward toward its starting point in upright position.

 

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