The Dragon in Lyonesse

by Gordon R. Dickson

Seen from above as he came within range of what he wanted to try, they were flying in a V-shaped formation like migrating geese, but with about the rate of wing-beat of crows. Theoretically, he told himself, they should not be able to fly at all, with that heavy, human head behind each white face.

  Then, as he flew along above them, he began to understand more clearly that there was no heavy human head. What each had was only the naked-skinned, insane white face, spread out over what would normally be a bird's head and upper body—like a mask, or almost like something painted there, after all facial feathers had been plucked.

  But there was no more time to waste in observation. It was time to try his experiment and then get out of here and do the more important things he had left Lyonesse to accomplish.

  He turned downward; and the reflexes of his dragon body took over for him. Like a falcon stooping upon a pigeon, he plunged toward the last harpy in line. At least he could rid the Drowned Land archers of one of these.

  He had imagined himself dropping in dead silence—but he was no more silent than a light plane with its motor off, diving earthward. The air whistled and sang about his body, the Harpies heard—and the one on the end saw him coming.

  He had counted on their having little or nothing in the way of brains. They should be flesh, blood, and feather—little more—killing machines only, judging by the other creatures made by the Dark Powers, like the ogres and Worms he and Brian had fought in the past. But either they also had self-preservative instincts, or they were programmed to fight in the air. The last harpy immediately flipped over; and he found himself falling directly into the white face, the mouth open like that of an angry cat and the sharp teeth gleaming.

  He banked almost without thinking, to sideslip past the creature—and almost made it. He felt something, a hard blow, halfway out along his right leading wing-tip. Then he was below the Harpies and pulling out of his dive, too full of his own adrenalin for his dragon self to react in any way to the fact that he might have been fatally poisoned, even while his human mind was telling him he had been an idiot to attack as he had.

  Then, as he steadied in level flight again, well away from the Harpies overhead, and easily able to outfly them—at least as long as life remained in him—he saw something dark, off to his right and tumbling toward the ground, falling below him.

  It turned, falling, and it had a white face. Its bird body was crushed, almost cut in two in the middle, and the creature was either dying or already dead.

  His mind refused to put two and two together for a moment; and then he remembered the blow he had felt against his wing. Plainly, it had been his contact with the now stricken harpy; and it had been too powerful and too brief for the creature to get its teeth into him, if the blow had come that far back from its mouth.

  He had not been poisoned then, after all. The relief from realizing he had not been killed came so swiftly behind the realization of it that neither one really had time to register on him. He did not feel relieved, so much as he felt numb for a moment—no feeling at all.

  The remaining Harpies were turning back, turning away from the city.

  He exerted his powerful wings to leave them below and behind him; and flew off himself in another direction, toward the closest patch of trees he could see, less than a mile away. It was not a large patch, but the small forest was thick enough so that he could land out of the sight of either harpy or human. Most of the Drowned Land was arable open plain; but small forests, like this one, were to be seen scattered almost evenly about.

  He landed, safely out of sight; and turned back into his human body to be out of his dragon one and get his mind working completely human-wise, and in the direction he had intended when he had decided to come here. There were no two ways about it. Being a dragon was advantageous, but it was not a body in which to do any deep thinking.

  As a dragon, he was more adventurous; and therefore more thoughtless. As a human, he was prey to all sorts of worries that would never occur to his dragon self; but on the other hand he could think and plan more clearly. He had never thought of doing something mathematical, or playing a game of chess, or some such thing, when he was in his dragon body—just to see whether he handled those things as well as he did when human or not. He must try that, sometime.

  Right now his greatest need was to be able to think. He thought he had something in mind that might do a great deal to change the balance of forces here; and he would bet it was something that would never have occurred to Kineteté or Carolinus, or anyone else dealing in either magic or magick. When in doubt, attack—some military notable had said once.

  Of course, maybe it couldn't be done.

  But the only way to find out was to try it.

  He had now talked himself into a good humor; and he would have decided to stay being a human for a while, except that once he was, he must try accessing his magic while safely hidden on the ground.

  But once safely on the ground with the trees hiding the empty landscape around him, human again and almost certainly free of watchers in any case, with the Harpies abroad, the first thing he did was to enlarge his ward so that it made a sort of small room, with about five feet of open space all around him. The next was to magically borrow the first small table he could think of, one in a storeroom back at Malencontri.

  It appeared before him as commanded in the space he had made inside the ward, and he concentrated on its top, after blowing the dust off it. He wanted five different fruits.

  "Apple," he said; and there was an apple—unfortunately rather small and green.

  "Damn it! I meant a ripe, red apple, of course!" he snapped—and checked himself, suddenly reminded by the sound of his voice of the way Carolinus and Kineteté spoke to the Auditing Department. But who would have thought everything magical had to be spoken to or spelled out in the finest of detail each time something was wanted of it—he checked the short burst of bad temper; at any rate, this time he had gotten what he wanted. An undeniably ripe, undeniably red apple smiled placatingly up from the table at him.

  "Everything ripe, now. Plum. Grape—just one—that's right. Pear. Banana—no, scrub the banana."

  He was running out of fruits that could not give Morgan le Fay or anyone with her the idea that he was anything but an ordinary magickian from the land above. His first few choices were all growths that any English knight—if he could get them all in season at the same time—might be carrying. A banana was not that.

  "Hell!" he said. "Make it one red grape and one white grape—seedless."

  The one grape that had already appeared was a red grape. A white grape appeared between the red one and the pear.

  They were lined up dutifully across the table.

  "All right," he told the fruits. "Listen to me, all of you! If I take any one of you out and bite into you while I'm thinking of a magic command, the one I bite into will execute that command. I'm giving you all the power to do that. Do you understand? Jump up and down if you do."

  None of them stirred a fraction of an inch.

  "Hell!" he said again; and found himself suddenly aware of how his language degenerated when there was no one around to hear him. "I forgot. Now! I am now giving you the power to hear what I say to you—not just my magic commands—all right, let's see you all jump up and down, now!"

  "—All right. All right, I said! You don't have to keep jumping. Once up and once down will do… that's better. Now, I'm going to bring the ward in close around me, alone, once more. Then I'm going to put you in my purse"—he decreased the ward and started stuffing them into the large catchall bag hanging from his ordinary belt, a leather one that encircled him above the broad, weapon-supporting knight's belt—"and if I think a command at one of you while biting into whichever one of you it is, the magic in you will be liberated to execute it. Understood?"

  The fruits already in his purse began to jump up and down. The apple, still in his hand, leaped clear out of it, back onto the table.

  "Got you," said Jim, reca
pturing the apple and putting it safely away with the other fruits in his purse. Having done so, he remembered he had been going to try all this in his dragon body. Well, that part would have to wait.

  Fruit pocketed—though "bagged" might have been a better word—and the ward closed up tight around him once more, he took off skyward; and once he had climbed to an altitude where he would not be flying into either incoming or exiting Harpies, he headed for a quick look from high up at what he had decided was the capital city.

  He soared over it at a little above fifteen hundred feet. There were Harpies there, individually roaming its streets just below roof level of the buildings. Every so often, one of them would drop with an arrow through it. But from this height Jim could not make out where the arrows were coming from. All the windows were shuttered tight and there was no one to be seen in the streets.

  Certainly, from here at least, the Drowned Land archers seemed to be more than holding their own.

  Curiosity drew him down. He sideslipped lower and lower until he had the good luck with his dragon sight to catch the flicker of an arrow coming out from one of the shuttered windows; but he still could not see how.

  Another hundred feet down and his dragon-sight was able to make out a small slit in the shutter. He pumped with his wings to lever himself up another story of the building and see if he could discover any other shutters with arrow slits in them—just as an arrow flickered through the air where he had been a second before.

  It had not occurred to him that those in the buildings could be taking him for some other creature sent by the Dark Powers. Once more he found himself wishing that Kineteté had made his ward proof against weapons as well as magic. But it was clear he was simply going to have to take that lack into account in his plans.

  He flew back to Lyonesse.

  Somewhat to his pleased surprise, he found no one had left. Dafydd and David were still there, as was the QB. Hob was jumping up and down, possibly with excitement, as Jim came in for a landing and turned back into a human being.

  "What happened to you?" he asked Brian, the first one to reach him, "You look different."

  "Nothing happened. Dull, here. Unless you mean—" He ran a hand over the lower half of his face. "I am now shaven. King Pellinore was good enough to lend me his shaving knife. I did not bring with me a hone capable of putting a fine edge on any blade I have with me; and you may have noticed, James—I say, you may have noticed my beard grows somewhat swiftly. Outright nuisance! I remember I used to go two, or even three days without needing to shave—ah, your Highness! You wished to speak to Sir James?"

  "What news, Sir James?" said David, pushing in between Brian and Jim. "What news? Have you any word of my poor land and people?"

  "I don't think you need worry too much," Jim said. "I flew over your capital. Things may have been bad at the time you left; but everyone is under cover there now, with doors and shutters closed; and the Harpies are hunting around without much luck I could see. In fact, from time to time one of your archers, shooting through an arrow slit in a shutter, downed one; and it may be Sir Brian and I can do more about stopping any more coming, soon."

  "James?" said Brian in a happy voice.

  "Talk to you about that in a bit, Brian," said Jim. "But, Sire, I was under the impression you and Dafydd were going back there."

  "Indeed, Sir James, I came to a change of mind," said Dafydd. "With the countryside empty of people, the danger of bringing my King back to the capital across that much open ground and only myself to guard him from Harpies, seemed the worst choice. And then, by staying with you, we can be at your meeting with the Original Knights of Lyonesse; for it is my thought that we of the Drowned Land and they are together in this, and it would be well we should talk without delay of joining forces."

  "Well, yes," said Jim. "It's been my thought, too—stop jumping up and down, Hob! I'll talk to you in a minute." For Hob was now standing on his right shoulder, going up and down like a magic fruit told to leap. "—My idea, too, that both lands should join forces. You've got plenty of people; but as I understand it, few armored knights. Lyonesse has a lot of them, but all together they don't add up to a very great army, since Lyonesse is sparsely populated forest, mostly. Am I right about that, QB?"

  "Perfectly right," said the QB. "But I think Hob has something very important to suggest to you."

  "He has? I'm sorry, Hob," said Jim. "I didn't realize what you wanted to talk about was that important. Sorry to make you wait."

  "It was awful—I didn't mind at all, I mean—m'Lord," the blocked-off words came out of Hob in a rush, "but I've had this magnificent idea. None of you could do it—crave pardon, Master Dafydd, Sir Brian, m'Lords, and your Royal Majesty—I just mean because it's just something a hobgoblin is made so he can do. All I need is a waft of smoke here; and I can ride it back to where those villains are camped on the Borderland, and hide in the smokes of their fires, listening to their talk. I can probably learn everything they're going to do; and bring it back to you. It would be as easy as… as drinking milk."

  "Hob…" began Jim, and checked himself. There were a number of reasons against Hob's doing what he had offered to do. But it would be tricky to phrase a refusal so that it did not make Hob useless and unhappy. He was fairly glowing with his idea.

  Furthermore, Jim could not turn down Hob's suggestion in such a way as to seem particularly careful of the small Natural. Not with the others listening—all of whom were ready to risk their own lives, and would see no reason why Hob should not take outrageous chances with his, to gain information.

  "It's a fine idea, Hob," he said; and Hob's face fell immediately at the tone of his Lord's voice, anticipating refusal. "The trouble is, though, that Queen Morgan le Fay is watching you and me all the time when we're here in Lyonesse. She'd notice immediately if you left me, and keep watching you to see where you went."

  "I could wait until dark to go."

  "How would you find your way to them in the dark?"

  "Oh, that's easy, m'Lord. I'd watch the stars. I've done that before, nights out on the smoke."

  "There are no stars here," put in Dafydd, "or in our Drowned Land. No moon in either one, either."

  Hob stared at him for a second of silence; and then his face lit up again.

  "I could take the QB with me on the smoke. He's heavy, but it isn't far. The smoke could manage him, too."

  "I would be happy to go," put in the QB. "It is true, as you yourself know Sir James, that I can easily go to where I wish, unobserved in the dark. I pray you will let Hob do what he suggests and take me with him, provided we wait until past sundown. I had thought there was nothing I could do to protect Lyonesse; but this would be useful; and I long to do it."

  "No harm in letting the two go, James; and much mayhap to be gained. I counsel you do so," said Brian.

  "I would give much to know," said King David, "when those in the Borderland plan to move; and in what direction. If it be toward the Drowned Land, we must beg the Knights and Kings of Lyonesse for assistance. We will give them as much as we have, if the attack is to be here."

  Dafydd said nothing; but Jim saw his friend was watching him closely.

  "All right, Hob," said Jim, pointedly speaking directly to Hob and to none of the others. "But I reserve the right to change my mind right up to the time you have to go. For one thing, QB—or any of you—has King Pellinore said when we might talk to the Originals? The sooner we meet with them, the better."

  "He said," answered the QB, "that they are not all gathered together yet. Indeed, some may still be coming in by the time the issue of where battle might be is decided and the battle about to commence. Neither of his sons, Sir Percival or Sir Lamorack of Wales, have been heard of so far; and I know he yearns to see them. The battle will be nothing to him, compared to that."

  "He didn't say anything, then," Jim said, "of just when a gathering of the Originals might take place?"

  "He will make it happen," said the QB. "But in any ca
se most of the great King's Knights who decide to be here, will appear soon—and there would be no more time to wait now, in any case. The dark comes soon."

  "Again?" Jim looked up at the sky and was startled to see the white sun once more low above the trees.

  "Our sun was a gift to Lyonesse of the Old Magic," said the QB, "and chooses its own way and time to come and go—and I think that its going so often, lately, is connected with our present peril. It goes now."

  Indeed it was. Even as Jim watched, its lower rim touched the tops of the black trees.

  Chapter Thirty-Three

  Plainly, there were only minutes to go before it would be too lightless to see anything.

  "We'd better tell King Pellinore. QB, perhaps you—" Jim began hastily. He did not finish, however.

  "You would tell me what?" said the deep voice; and Jim, looking, saw that Pellinore was with them again, having just ridden out of the trees toward his home.

  "The Lord QB, I, Sir Brian, and the Hob are going to be gone for a while," said Jim; and as the sky dimmed relentlessly overhead, he talked fast to bring Pellinore up to date.

  "Very well," said Pellinore. "I shall look for your return. When we are together again and it is light, we should go to the Gathering Place of the Original Knights. Meanwhile, I wish to invite and do so invite within, those of you who wish to stay. Candles will be lit; and food as well as drink prepared for those who wish it. While if those who are tired wish it, I can give you a bedded chamber apiece."

  "Indeed," said Dafydd, "I am weary; and my King must be, also."

  As he said this, Jim suddenly felt out on his feet. When had he last really slept? He could not remember; and the excitement of what had happened to him had kept him going. But there was no time for sleep now.

  On the other hand, now that he had realized he had been without sleep, he was ready to fall over sideways to get it. But that would not do. He would need his wits about him to deal with things as they came up.

  Reluctantly, he turned a little away from the others and rumbled in his purse for one of the grapes. "Give me the equivalent of six hours' sleep in six seconds," he said to it under his breath, and ate it.