by Rick Shelley
No wonder she was so hungry.
But the way Joy carried on at the table solved one problem. I had to talk with Lesh, Harkane, and Timon about our quest, and I didn’t want to do that with Joy around, and questions would have been asked during supper if Joy hadn’t monopolized the conversation. I also had to leave instructions for the people who were staying behind to make sure that things went as smoothly as possible for Joy. She had even thought to buy small gifts for all of the people who worked at the castle—nothing extravagant, but enough to let everyone know that she had thought about him or her. It’s not the kind of thing I ever remembered to do. She must have pumped Timon for a lot of information, because she knew just who we had and how many children they had over in the village, and just about everything else about them.
I was impressed, and then some. Joy was going to make a very popular chatelaine at Castle Cayenne.
There was even a special treat for dessert, ten gallons of ice cream that Joy had brought back in a couple of new camping coolers. It was enough to give everyone in the castle a good taste with enough left over for the people with children in the village to take some home with them.
It was a jolly party, almost enough to make me forget what the morning held in store.
But then Mother joined us, just as the party was breaking up.
“Why didn’t you tell me that there’s a dragon flying in our world?” she asked.
“I haven’t seen you since then.” I turned to Joy. “Did you hear any more about it this afternoon?” She shook her head.
“Why is it so important?” I asked Mother. “I mean, beside the obvious evidence of how screwed up everything is getting.”
“There are Varayans in that world.”
“I know about Doc McCreary.”
“He’s not the only one. There are”—she made a quick, impatient gesture with both hands—“nearly two dozen Varayans, and their families, some from here, some from there. This dragon will have them in a panic.”
“More than the Coral Lady?”
“Yes, especially just after that.”
“You think some of them will want to come back here?”
“It’s likely. I’ll have to go home and call each of them, find out. I’m their only contact.”
“Be careful.”
“I’m aware of the danger,” Mother said, coolly. Our relationship remained rather touchy. I make no apology for that. But we tried to keep it from completely destroying the family ties. It took work on both sides.
“Grandfather is still in danger,” Mother said, changing subjects abruptly. “Frankly, I don’t see how he has lasted this long.”
“I told him that I’m not ready to take over his job,” I said, softly enough that almost anyone but Mother might have missed it. She could hear a whisper through a chorus of air hammers.
“You can’t carry him forever like that,” she said. That started something ticking inside me. Mother actually believed that I had the power to affect Pregel, to hold off death. That she believed it was frightening. That she might be right was even more terrifying.
Mother was in a hurry to get to Louisville so she could do her Paul Revere bit on the telephone. Joy went upstairs to put some order to all the things she had bought. That gave me a chance to talk with all of the castle people and with my three traveling companions. I needed more than an hour to make sure that everyone knew what I wanted them to know in advance. The four of us who were going on the road would pop through to Basil at dawn and have our breakfast there. I gave Lesh, Harkane, and Timon a full briefing on what we had to do, where we had to go, what was at stake, and who our guide would be. Carrying along the talking head of a dead elf was the only thing that visibly bothered anyone. It bothered me too, but the elf was our only ticket.
When I got upstairs, Joy was still working at her sorting, putting the different items in separate stacks, but she had changed clothes. She was just wearing a bathrobe, loosely belted now.
“The bath water’s just barely warm, but if you hurry you might get enough,” she said.
I nodded and went on through to the bathroom. She was right about the water temperature, but it was often worse. Since Joy had braved it, I wasn’t going to cheat by going to Chicago for a shower. I didn’t want to give Joy the slightest excuse for thinking that Chicago and its world might be safe, not while I was gone. At least the water wasn’t warm enough to let me sleep in the tub, and I might easily have fallen asleep in hot water. I was tired, and even more exhausted by the thought of the trek I had to start in the morning.
Why? I had asked myself that question quite often, starting as soon as I saw that all the craziness was building up to what looked like a suicidal mission for me. Why was I willing to head off on this impossible quest? I could have taken Joy back to the world we grew up in. We could have found a secluded place—too out-of-the-way for terrorists, far enough from any major target to have a shot at surviving anything, even all-out nuclear war. We could forget about elflords and chickens that laid dragon eggs, and kids who literally grew up overnight. I had the training to be a top-notch survivalist if it came to that. And it would probably be safer than continuing as I was.
The first time I went tilting at windmills it was different. I started out trying to rescue my parents from some then-unknown difficulty, then I went on to avenge my father’s death, and other things got done along the way, by me and to me. I didn’t even know what the hell was going on until it dropped right on my head. In a way, that was really an advantage. This time I had a fairly good idea of what was in store. The omens said that we were rapidly moving toward Armageddon or Götterdämmerung or Judgment Day or whatever; the End of Everything. If you believed the advertising.
I wasn’t quite positive that I did, but the arguments were too strong to bet against them at house odds.
That still didn’t make my decision to attempt something even less likely against longer odds very logical or intelligent, but it did let me sleep nights. Annick once told me that I did what I did from a sense of duty. The word embarrassed me then, and I tried to shy away from it whenever I could, even in my thoughts. I guess I still do. It sounds too abstract, too impersonal. “Duty, honor, country”? Maybe, but maybe not. Maybe I am just stupid or crazy enough for this Hero business.
Or perhaps it all came from a sense of family. All the family I had left was in Varay—Joy, my mother, and her kin. Dad was an only child and so were both of his parents, and they were all dead. I had never known either set of grandparents. Mother’s parents were killed back in the early 1940s. Dad’s died about ten years later.
Whatever. There was a crazy, dangerous job to be done, the kind of Hero-work I had been raised and trained to do—even if it was by subterfuge and deception. My decision to try was never seriously at doubt.
I don’t claim that I was being smart.
“Are you going to take all night in there?” Joy called from the bedroom. I guess that maybe I did come close to dozing off in the tub, lukewarm water and all.
“I’ll be out in a minute,” I said. I toweled off vigorously, and that perked me up a little.
Joy was already in bed, the covers pulled up to just below her breasts. Only a single lamp was burning, and it was low. Joy and I made love, but I can’t claim that it was my best performance ever, and afterward I did something I never do. I just rolled off and went straight to sleep. I simply couldn’t stay awake.
When I woke, much later, the night was at its most silent. The bedroom was dark, with only the faint glow of the clock’s luminous face and the moon-and starlight filtering in through the window. Joy was awake, her head on my shoulder, one hand down under the blankets caressing me, stroking, teasing. I turned toward her and we kissed.
“I hope you were dreaming about me,” Joy whispered in my ear. Her hand was still busy below.
“What are you talking about? I wasn’t dreaming.”
“You must have been. You got a big hard-on.”
“I
don’t remember any dream, but if I had one, it must have been about you.”
“You’d better prove it.”
I managed to sneak a glance at the clock—it wasn’t quite four-thirty yet—and then I did what Joy wanted. Five and a half hours of sleep is plenty for me most nights. And I would like to think that I redeemed myself after the evening before, even though I knew that it might be the last chance we would ever have.
“How long will you be gone this time?” Joy asked after we finished.
“I don’t have any idea. I don’t know how far into the mountains we have to go, or how slow it will be. Several weeks at least.”
“You realize that if I knew how to ride a horse, I’d be going with you.”
“No!” Since Joy didn’t know how to ride, I could have avoided that, but I knew where silence or agreement would lead. The second part of the quest would be by boat. “I would never risk you like that, Joy,” I told her. “And I could never take a chance of getting in a position where I might have to choose between saving you and completing the mission. The penalty for failure might be too drastic—for everyone.”
“You let her go with you.” She was talking about Annick.
“Not exactly. And it wasn’t the same. The choice wouldn’t have been anywhere near as difficult.”
“You mean because she knew how to fight and kill?”
“No, because she wasn’t you and I never felt anything for her like I feel for you. Annick was driven by hate, and all she saw in me was that I hurt her enemies more than she had.”
When Joy started to ask another question, I stopped her with a kiss—a long, hard kiss. And then it was time to get up.
Dressing for the road is quite a procedure, and I can always count on sweating a lot out riding in the complete get-up. I had layers of clothing, part from one world, part from the other. I started with T-shirt and jockey shorts, the heaviest denim jeans I had, wool socks, and comfortable combat boots. For casual wear, that would have been more than enough for an August day that would probably get into the high eighties. But that was only the start for a proper Hero going a-questing to do Hero-work. The next layer was a padded leather tunic that reached down past my butt (split partway up the back so I could ride a horse in it) and laced up the front. The complete costume includes the Varayan equivalent of chaps to protect my legs, leather studded with six-inch strips of metal to keep a chance sword stroke from biting too deeply, but I never wore those. The chain mail to go over the leather had to wait until I had experienced help. Getting that on and fastened was a two-man job. Anyway, I didn’t want to start carrying that weight until we were ready to leave.
Joy finished dressing long before I got my leather tunic laced up. Then I went to check on my companions. They were up—dressed, ready to go, already armed and armored. Lesh would have seen to it that they were wakened in plenty of time.
My armor and weapons were in the great hall waiting. Timon had packed my chaps and helmet, knowing that I wouldn’t be wearing them. The helmet is another heavy bit of metal that I avoid as long as possible. I dug out my lucky Cubs cap to wear instead.
We ate. All of the people who lived in the castle were there for the meal, even though it wasn’t quite dawn yet. They knew something about what we were off to do, and sharing the farewell meal with us was one way of showing their support. We ate fast, not worrying about digestive problems, then finished getting ready to leave … so we could fit in another breakfast at Castle Basil.
“I’m having a bad case of déjà vu,” Joy said while Lesh and Timon helped me finish dressing. “This is like that scene in Cat Ballou where they’re all helping Lee Marvin get dressed for the big showdown.”
I wished that she hadn’t said that. I have enough trouble keeping from feeling ridiculous when I’m all fitted out ready for a rumble, and I remembered the scene she was talking about all too clearly.
We got my chain mail on. It didn’t hang quite as low as the tunic. Then my weapons: two elf swords over my shoulders, dagger at my waist on one side, quiver on the other. I would carry my compound bow until we got to the horses. I had a pistol and a box of cartridges packed, but that was just old habit, since I didn’t expect to use the gun.
“You look like something out of a comic strip,” Joy said when I was ready to go. She didn’t quite manage to swallow her laugh. She had been holding it back for ten or fifteen minutes by then.
“Prince Valiant?” I suggested with an exaggerated grin.
“No, Hägar the Horrible.” This time, Joy didn’t even try to hold back the laugh. “You didn’t even shave.”
“I probably won’t until we get back.” Joy and I just looked at each other for a moment. “We’re going to be late for breakfast,” I said finally, mostly to break the tableau.
“We just …” Joy started and then she just shook her head.
We had quite a load of gear to take through to Basil. Joy held the passage open while Lesh, Harkane, Timon, and I shifted everything through with the help of a couple of our other people. Baron Kardeen had people waiting on the other side to carry everything to the great hall and then out to our horses.
When we made our entrance into the great hall, the room fell silent and people turned to stare—even the servants who were starting to haul in the breakfast victuals. I always got some stares—the Varayans all saw me as a big shot, the local equivalent of a rock star, I guess—and Joy is always worth a stare. I didn’t let it bother me most of the time, but Joy wasn’t used to that kind of intense attention.
“It always makes me think that my fly is open,” I whispered, and she relaxed a little.
“Maybe it is,” she whispered back.
“No, I already checked.” We both laughed and went on in to eat.
The head table was more crowded than usual that morning. Parthet, Aaron, and Mother were there. Even Kardeen came out to eat with us, and that was unusual.
Joy kept staring at Aaron, but so did I, and nearly everyone else. He may have received more attention than I did. In two days, he had apparently aged ten years. He was as tall as me but not as heavy. His hair had grown considerably too, into a modest “natural.” His voice had deepened and he spoke more slowly, considering his words, but he still smiled a lot and didn’t seem bothered by his magic spurt of growth—though everyone else was concerned about it, including me. There couldn’t be any question of taking him home to his family now. They would never believe that Aaron was really Aaron.
And eat … Aaron packed away as much food as any two of the garrison soldiers, and their appetites were legendary.
Breakfast went on for two hours, a little longer than usual, and afterward I said private farewells to Kardeen, Parthet, and Mother, and asked each of them to keep an eye on Joy. I went upstairs to see the king. He was asleep, but he was breathing easily and there was more color in his face. Encouraging. When I went back to the great hall, I talked with Aaron for a few minutes, incredibly curious about how he was taking everything that had happened to him. I was still curious after our talk. It really didn’t seem to faze him in the least.
Then I went off alone with Joy while Lesh and the others finished loading our horses in the courtyard.
“I don’t suppose it would do any good to tell you to be careful,” Joy said.
“I’ll be as careful as possible,” I said. We both knew how empty that promise might be.
“I’m too new a wife to be a widow.” And then she came into my arms and started crying.
We couldn’t share much of an embrace with all the metal I was wearing, but I kissed her eyes, tasting the salt of her tears. Then we kissed for real, but she was still crying.
“There’s more to me than you might think, Joy,” I said. “When you get a chance, ask Uncle Parthet to tell you about the magic that the Hero of Varay has. And remember how quickly I healed from that stabbing and the operation. It almost drove the doctor crazy.”
We held hands as we walked out to the courtyard. Quite a lot of the
garrison and staff came out to watch us leave. Seven horses were ready, four to ride, three to carry our supplies … and the head of the dead elf. His birdcage was perched atop the packs on one of our packhorses, tied in place. The eyes turned to meet mine, and there was anger in his look.
“I will not forget this humiliation,” the elf said, and Joy screamed.
“What is that?” she demanded, clinging to me. Well, I had mentioned the elf to her, it had been impossible to avoid all talk of him, but seeing—and hearing—the reality was still a shock for her.
“That’s what’s left of the elf who stabbed me,” I said, leading Joy off to the side, out of sight of him.
“That head talked.”
“Parthet provided part of the magic. Apparently the elf improved it a little. He’s our guide, the only one who can make it possible for us to find the relics we’re looking for.”
“How can you trust him?”
“I can’t, but he has every reason to help us. He wants his head and body to go home to his father for a proper send-off, and the only way that can happen is if we succeed and get home safely. The rest of him is locked up in the castle, and if we don’t make it back, terrible things will happen to it—at least things that the elf considers terrible.”
Joy was shaking as if she had fever and chills. I guided her over to my mother, and Mother knew what was wrong. I kissed Joy, told her again that everything would be all right, and hurried to my horse—Electrum, son of Gold.
I had help mounting, and as soon as I was up, my companions mounted, also with help. We could have made it unassisted, but we were too loaded down with armor and breakfast to make it alone without looking terribly undignified. The others started walking their horses slowly toward the gate. The magic doorway to Castle Thyme was down in Basil Town. I turned Electrum around and walked him over to Mother and Joy.
“I will be back,” I said, projecting all the confidence I could muster. I would be back, at least once or twice—I hoped.
Then I turned my horse again and followed the others off to the main gate. The way was open, doors pulled back, portcullis raised, the short drawbridge to the top of the path down.