The Witch Doctor

by Christopher Stasheff

  CHAPTER THIRTEEN

  I took as deep a breath as I could and spat out:

  "Can't freeze my bones or rot my spleen,

  'Cause I've been shot with Salk vaccine!

  So I'll hang loose from stern to prow—

  Paralysis can't touch me now!"

  My knees suddenly flexed, and my hands relaxed at my sides. I tried a step and managed it—but slowly and painfully. Well, you couldn't expect a cheap spell like that to work wonders...

  But Suettay hadn't wasted the time. She was back on the ground, the silver noose still hanging above her head, and was finishing up another chant, her hands pantomiming yanking something up from the earth.

  And four lions leapt out of nowhere, straight at me, roars shaking the plain.

  But a greater roar drowned theirs out, blasting from behind me. Gruesome thudded past me, straight at the lions!

  They hit the brakes, plowing up sod with iron claws and terrified howls—or three out of four did. The fourth bellowed all the louder and leapt straight at the troll. I couldn't help thinking that this was how evolution put an upward limit on courage.

  Gruesome was very direct; he slammed in an uppercut. His timing was just right; he caught the lion under the jaw. It went flipping up over his head and down in an arc, its head flopping at an unnatural angle.

  The other three decided their initial instinct had been right, and fled out across the plain with howling yips of fright.

  Suettay's hands flew; crooked syllables clanked off her tongue.

  Gruesome turned slowly toward me, a hungry glint in his eye.

  "What's the matter?" I backed away. "Look, I didn't mean to get you into this!"

  "Juicy." Gruesome's slab of tongue came out and smacked around his chops. "Taste good."

  I yelped and whirled to run; Suettay had canceled the fairies' anti-human-eating spell.

  Gruesome's feet pounded behind me, coming closer, and I knew that, though his legs were much shorter in relation to his body, they were longer than mine, since he was so much bigger, and he could move them faster, no matter what he looked like. I wasn't going to get out of this by running, just by talking. Or rhyming, rather. I swerved around behind the biggest boulder I could find in that barren land and started chanting,

  "You cannot eat but little meat—

  For your stomach, I'm not good.

  Obey elf-prince and wizard friend,

  Not sorceress in hood!

  Why then should you seek quarry more,

  And still seek friends anew,

  When change itself can give no more—

  'tis easy to be true!"

  A huge fist came down and smashed the boulder to smithereens. Gruesome loomed up, huge eyes lit with glee, mouth spread in a horrible, drooling grin, upraised hands hooked to pounce, and I turned to run. Huge nails clawed my back, and I howled with pain, tripping and falling. I rolled to my feet—

  And I was just in time to see the glee dim from his eyes as his mouth puckered in confusion. "Wizard? What I do?"

  "Nothing." I went limp with relief. "You chased away some lions for me, Gruesome. Thanks."

  But beyond his bulk, I saw Suettay, hunkered down on her knees, bent over diagrams she was drawing in the dirt, and intoning a long, droning chant.

  My heart sank. Whatever she was whopping up, it was big—if symbolic gestures increased magical power, symbolic drawing would be even worse!

  Then full inspiration hit me, and I realized that a sword can cut both ways, no matter how clumsy. "Gruesome!" I cried. "There's another one!" I pointed at Suettay.

  " 'Nother one what?" the troll rumbled, turning to look. I chanted quickly,

  "What you see amid the waste,

  See as something you would taste!

  Be it horse, or cat, or bear,

  Or a sorc'ress, kneeling there.

  In your eye it shall appear

  As a morsel sweet and rare!"

  Slant rhyme again, but I hoped it would work.

  It did. Gruesome let out one gusty "Yum!" and started running straight at Suettay.

  The sorceress looked up, startled. Then she sprang aside with a howl of fear, in the nick of time. Gruesome thundered by, plowing up her diagrams with his great taloned toes. Suettay howled in rage and frustration—and I seized the moment, my mind shifting into high gear. I knew better than to waste a single second by this time. While she was on the run, I chanted,

  "Be reversed from Galatea;

  May your limbs and joints betray ya!"

  I ripped a thread loose from my shirt, frantically tying knots in it as I went on:

  "Knot the stomach, bind the head—

  Let your limbs go weak with dread!"

  The sorceress collapsed, falling back on the ground with a howl of anger and fear.

  Gruesome bellowed victory and stooped for the kill.

  "Be as thou wast wont to be!" I shouted. "See as thou wast wont to see!"

  Gruesome froze.

  Then his face wrinkled, and he turned away in disgust. "Yugh! Sorceress! Tough! Sour!"

  Suettay stared, not knowing whether to be insulted or relieved. The fear spell was still on her, but she started muttering anyway.

  Gruesome whipped about, looking from side to side in total bewilderment. "Where goody? Where juicy piglet?"

  So that was what he had seen, instead of Suettay. "It got away," I said quickly. "Why don't you go back to the campfire and see if Gilbert has any leftovers from dinner?"

  "Deer haunch." Gruesome nodded sagely and turned away. "Yum!"

  I pulled out my clasp knife, snapped it open, and stepped up to touch the point against Suettay's throat. "Cut it," I snapped, "or I will!"

  The last syllables of the chant died in the sorceress' throat as she read the conditional sentence in my eyes.

  But she saw something else, too, and a slow, mocking smile spread over her face. "You believe you have beaten me, then?"

  "I did sort of have that impression, yes." Privately, I wondered how long I could hold the knife still.

  "Slay me, then." Suettay smiled, showing teeth.

  I stared.

  I clamped my jaw, narrowed my eyes. She was mocking me, riding a bluff. She should have known better; it only made sense for me to kill her. I braced myself for the thrust... and stayed braced.

  Suettay's eyes danced, mocking me.

  I ground my teeth and tried to summon up the resolution for the fatal blow. "Start a spell."

  Suettay shook her head, grin widening.

  "Damn!" I whirled away, plunging the knife into the earth.

  Suettay laughed, a mocking bray. "I congratulate you on your... honor, Wizard."

  I swung about, fuming.

  "Aye, slay the helpless old woman," the sorceress jeered. "When you rendered me defenseless, Wizard, you bound your own hands."

  "Nothing," I ground out, "gripes me more than someone who takes advantage of someone else's good nature."

  "I could not be more pleased with your... virtue." Suettay made the word an insult.

  I spun away, burning, taking a deliberate step away from the woman so I wouldn't do something I'd feel sorry for in the morning.

  Behind me, the sorceress sang out a rhyme in that ancient language I didn't know. I spun about in alarm. She was stretching luxuriously. "Thank you for affording me a moment to recite my counterspell, Wizard. Be assured, I'll not return the favor." Her hands started weaving.

  I snatched up the knife and turned back to her, shifting from side to side, coming in low. Of course, she could have blocked that with three words, so I chanted,

  "Her freedom is gained,

  Her malice unfeigned!

  The blow need not hold,

  For blood's no longer..."

  Suettay stared, alarmed, then broke off her chant to cry, "Hist!" She held up a hand, turning her head a little to the side and frowning, as if listening to a distant sound.

  Then she turned back to me, snarling, "How you have worked
your vile spells, Wizard, I do not know—but I grant you've been far more formidable than I had thought you would be."

  A truce? I wondered if it was wrong of me to feel relieved.

  "I would I could stay and finish what we've so lately begun," Suettay spat, "but sudden, urgent affairs have arisen, which require my personal attention—blast that monk and his obstinacy! We shall meet again, be certain... yet I must own, I've gained some respect for you. When next I see you, 'twill be with an army at my back."

  Yes, I decided, wanting a truce was wrong. I screwed down my mercy and began reciting,

  "Fear no more the heat o' the sun,

  Nor the furious winter's rages..."

  Suettay looked up in amused surprise. I set my teeth and went on:

  "Thou thy worldly task hast done;

  Home art gone, and ta'en thy wages."

  Suettay cocked her head to the side suddenly, as if she were again listening for something.

  Trying to distract me, I thought. I focused tightly on her face, chanting:

  "Golden lads and girls all must..."

  Suettay turned back to me with a long, gloating laugh that ended abruptly in a shouted, unintelligible phrase as she swung her arms in opposing circles.

  "As chimney sweepers!" I shouted.

  Suettay disappeared.

  "...come to dust," I finished. "Damn. And I had a good excuse, too!"

  Then I started wondering what she had been laughing about. Probably just trying to distract me, as I'd thought... but...

  How about if she had seen some trouble coming for me and my companions?

  On a wide-open plain? In the dead of night? Ridiculous! After an act like that, what trouble could make any difference?

  Then I heard the clank of arms, Gilbert's shouting, and Frisson's howl, faint but clear across the plain. Gruesome roared, and a crowd of voices answered him. Metal clashed on metal.

  "She sent an ambush party while she had me out of the way!" I cried. But I didn't answer; I was already running, and trying to figure out how I could get there faster.

  Faster? I skidded to a halt. I was a wizard, wasn't I? At least, that's what they kept telling me. I could get to any place I wanted, instantly—at least, within this hallucination. All it took was the right spell.

  "The trouble's fast-moving,

  And so must move I,

  Till I'm set by the fire

  'Neath this bright midnight sky.

  Let me, in an instant,

  A league or more gain,

  In the bat of an eye,

  Far out 'cross this plain!"

  There was a sudden rush of giddiness—then my head stopped swimming, and I looked up at mud-and-thatch walls, crude plank furniture, and dirty, unkempt people in ragged, dun-colored home spun.

  The man of the house looked up, startled, from his place at the table. He had a long beard and a large axe.

  I stared. What had gone wrong?

  Terminology. I'd said "by the fire," but I hadn't specified which one. And I had said "across the plain"—so here I was, in a peasant hut presumably on the far side of the plain.

  I gave the denizens a toothy grin and tipped an imaginary hat. "Sorry about the intrusion, folks. Just semantics, that's all."

  The man's lips writhed back in a snarl as he came up from the table, hefting his axe.

  Obviously a grammarian. I ad-libbed,

  "The lure missed the fish,

  And wound up in a shack.

  I return to the world,

  'Cross the plain. I go back!"

  The axe swung down—and I was suddenly in the midst of bright moonlight again. I turned around, totally confused, and saw a bright spot on the horizon. Dimly, I heard clashing and yelling.

  I sighed. Overshot again! Well, I hadn't exactly had time to get specific.

  But my friends were in a jam. I had to come up with a spell while I made it to them.

  "The starry welkin cover thou anon

  With gloomy fog as black as Acheron

  And lead these treach'rous soldiers so astray

  As each come quickly in the other's way!"

  Suddenly, fog rose up from the ground, getting thicker and thicker as it climbed. In two minutes, it had hidden the stars, and the distant clash of arms was liberally interspersed now with shouts of surprised and angry pain, and cursing.

  That would hold them for a while. I dredged up an orientation verse:

  "Take me back to my new friends

  At the campsite where they fend

  And guard themselves with might and care

  From the foes attacking there!"

  There was that moment of disorientation again—then things steadied and I found myself staring at the coals of our campfire. I whirled about to see Gruesome tossing soldiers like Indian clubs. Gilbert was laying them about him with his broadsword, and Frisson crouched by the fire, reading scraps of paper aloud. Angelique flitted here and there, trying to scare enemy soldiers, and not terribly worried by their weapons.

  But I was—because the fog suddenly lifted. Only ten feet or so, but that was enough for the soldiers to see where we were and turn to center on us with some very nasty oaths.

  If their field sorcerer could disperse my fog, he might be able to trap Angelique! I had to find some way to bust up his party.

  "Like the leaves of the forest

  When summer is green,

  That host with their banner

  At sunset were seen.

  Like the leaves of the forest

  When autumn hath blown

  That host in the morning

  Lay withered and strown."

  A huge unseen hand seemed to slap back and forth in the middle of the raiding party, and troopers went flying. That left only a man in a gray robe and pointed cap, frantically dodging the unseen force. He was going to be confused for a few minutes, and I decided to make it worse.

  "I'll chant to him in summertime,

  And in the winter, too!

  But the only, only thing

  That I'll sing for his song

  Is to shroud him in the foggy, foggy dew!"

  The fog came down again, all the way to the ground—and among the moans of the soldiers, I heard a tenor cursing. I grinned; that should keep this junior sorcerer confused for a few minutes.

  But he'd pick up the pieces pretty quickly. I needed something a little more enduring, that would scare the symbols off his robe—and his soldiers, too.

  And I knew just the thing. I grinned with anticipation as I took a deep breath and recited, with my best attempt at the original pronunciation,

  "The fierce spirit painfully endured hardship for a time,

  He who dwelt in darkness...

  The grim spirit was called Grendel, a rover of the borders,

  One who held the plains, fen and fastness...

  There came gliding in the black night the walker in darkness,

  From the plain under the mist-hills Grendel came walking,

  Wearing God's anger!"

  Night thickened around them, and I took off, following the crashing Gruesome was making. On my third step, I slammed into something hard and furry. A roar resounded around me, and a huge, clawed hand reached down through the darkness toward me. Far above, two little red eyes gleamed. I howled, ducked around the giant shin, and ran.

  Grendel apparently wasn't about to change course for so small an irritation, because the crashing of boulders being ground into pebbles was going away behind me, and I didn't think that was just because he was running so fast. A yell of horror confirmed it, followed by the rattle and clash of suits of armor being jumbled together. I slowed and looked back, but all I could see was a black cloud with a horse arcing above it and a sorcerer beyond, sawing the air frantically with his hands. The horse landed on its hooves, by some miracle, and streaked off in a panic—but the sorcerer had to stand his ground and keep trying. I didn't think he'd have much luck when he couldn't even tell what the monster was, especially sin
ce I didn't think the man knew Middle English. Too bad the Dark Age bards hadn't left a few verses with a wider range of applications, but their interests had seemed to be rather narrow.

  Wide enough for current purposes, however. I noticed that the crashing seemed to have stopped. So did the sorcerer. He was frozen with his arms half-raised, looking uncommonly as if he were surrendering to a Wild West sheriff. Then he whipped about and disappeared back into the pass. The black cloud drifted after him, leaving huge, clawed, vaguely anthropoid footprints.

  I didn't really care about the sorcerer, but I couldn't leave a scourge like that to prowl the countryside. I tried to remember how the fight had gone, decided to be a little more humane, and improvised a different ending:

  "Grendel must flee from there, mortally sick,

  Seek his joyless home in the fen-slopes.

  He knew the more surely that his life's end had come,

  The full number of his days."

  The black cloud kept moving up toward the pass, but as it moved, it thinned until, by the time it reached the top, it was almost gone.

  A vague outline hung in the air for a second, huge and gross, like a monstrous parody of the human form—or was it reptilian?—then was gone, so quickly that I wondered if I'd really seen it. I sighed and turned away. There had been something heroic about the monster, after all.

  Gilbert was glancing warily up toward the hilltop, then back to the place where his opponents had been. There was only a dust cloud there now.

  I looked at it, surprised. "What did you do? Knock them all the way back to the mountains?"

  "Nay. They saw that black fog you raised, and turned tail. They fled, and I came near to fleeing after them."

  "Near! If I'd had a clear field, I would've been flying out of here so fast, my backwash would have knocked you over!"

  "Me, too!" The troll actually looked shaken. "Goosum go, fast!"