Castle War c-4

by John Dechancie

  “Feeling something?” Sir Gene asked.

  “It’s getting stronger,” she said.

  “A node?”

  Linda peered off, squinting in the harsh sunlight. “Don’t know what it is. Some kind of … focus, like.”

  “Focus?”

  “Whatever. Like a concentrated center. Hell, I’m no good at words.”

  “Never mind the words, just find some magic.”

  “Aye aye, sir.” Linda gave him a mock salute.

  Sir Gene smiled wanly. “Sorry. It’s just that the castle must be saved.”

  “Don’t you think I know that?”

  “Yes, of course. Please carry on.”

  Linda chewed her lip thoughtfully, scanning ahead. She pointed slightly to the left. “There.” Bringing her hand back to rub her chin, she added, “Maybe.”

  They walked on. Sir Gene wandered off to the right to inspect an unusual rock formation. When he got out of earshot Linda went to Snowclaw.

  “Snowy, I was wondering …”

  “Yeah?”

  “It’s about Gene. Have you noticed anything strange about him?”

  “How did you know?”

  “Know what, Snowy?”

  “That he smells funny.”

  She smiled. “I didn’t notice that. But ever since he reappeared he seems different. Talks different. His personality’s changed.”

  They continued walking.

  “Really? Maybe you humans can notice these things better,” Snowclaw said. “I noticed the smell, but I didn’t think anything of it. You people use stink water a lot, so I thought Gene was using a new kind.”

  “It’s not stink water. What that phony Incarnadine said worries me. He could have been mistaking our Gene for his twin in the mirror castle, but the way Gene answered him … I don’t know, Snowy.” Linda’s eyes widened. “Snowy, what if he’s not really Gene? What are we going to do?”

  “I sure wish I knew,” Snowclaw said. “Here he comes.”

  Sir Gene caught up to them.

  “Rather a waste of a world, isn’t it?”

  Linda said, “Yeah, but there are no tourists.”

  “Always some good point if you think about it. Getting any closer to the focus affair?”

  “It’s getting stronger all the time.”

  “Good. Very good.”

  “But I still don’t know if I can use it. Magic is different on different worlds. You know that.”

  “I’m magically inept in any world.”

  “I really need the castle as a power source. It’s the easiest to use. I —”

  Linda suddenly stopped.

  “What is it?” Sir Gene said.

  “It’s getting really strong.”

  “I assume that’s good.”

  “Maybe.”

  “Why don’t you try something?”

  “Like what?”

  “Anything. You’re good at conjuration. Try conjuring.”

  “Okay. Uh … like —?”

  “Food,” Snowclaw said. “I’m hungry.”

  “What news. Okay, here goes.”

  Linda looked around and chose a wide, flat rock to stand in front of. Shutting her eyes tight, she held her arms straight at her sides, fists clenched.

  Two plates of barbecued ribs appeared on the rock.

  “Smells good,” Snowclaw said, his nostrils flaring.

  Linda looked troubled. “That’s funny, I didn’t order two.”

  “You usually control quantity?” Sir Gene asked.

  “Always. That’s strange. You were right, Gene, there’s really something here.”

  “And you can conjure anything?”

  “Well, not anything. You know I have trouble sometimes.”

  “Yes, of course. But with this new power …”

  “The problem is its newness. All magic isn’t alike, Gene. I really have to feel that I’m in control when I’m doing anything magical, and I’m not fully in control here.”

  “Circumstances may dictate that we work with what we have.”

  “I understand what you’re saying. But I don’t understand what you want to try.”

  “See here. You can conjure. Can you conjure some reinforcements?”

  “You mean like Guardsmen?”

  “Yes.”

  “Gene, in the castle I’ve done all sorts of things. In a fight I’ve even made clones of you and Snowy. Aren’t you forgetting?”

  Sir Gene looked away. “Yes, of course I know that. Can you do it now?”

  “Make doubles of you and Snowy? This isn’t the castle, Gene.”

  “Then we should try to go back to the castle.”

  “Don’t you think Incarnadine could conjure more of his Guardsmen to offset any advantage?”

  “Guardsmen, yes. But what if we conjure not Guardsmen but a force that can best any Guardsman one-on-one?”

  “Like what?”

  “Like Snowclaw.”

  Snowclaw was busy devouring ribs, crunching them up bones and all.

  Linda turned to look at him. “Snowy?”

  “Yes, don’t you understand? Snowclaw can take on three Guardsmen at a time. Any force composed of Snowclaw’s duplicates would have an intrinsic advantage.”

  Linda took a breath and let it out noisily. “Gene, the point is we’d be fighting against Incarnadine. A nasty, evil one to boot. There’s no telling what he could pull out of his hat to go up against us.”

  “Yes, I realize that. But we must make the attempt.”

  “I think it’s a crazy idea.”

  “Perhaps. But — what is it, Snowclaw?”

  Snowclaw was sniffing the air. “Humans coming. Should’ve smelled ’em before, but the food was in the way.”

  “Up to that ridge,” Sir Gene said. “But first, hide that debris.”

  Linda hid the empty plates behind the rock while Snowclaw picked up stray bones and stashed them in the bushes.

  They ran up a slight rise and took cover behind a stone ledge. They waited. A few minutes later three Guardsmen came into view. They approached on the far side of the dry wash, stopping at its edge.

  After exchanging a few words, they gave a cursory look around, then went back the way they’d come.

  When they were out of sight Sir Gene turned and sat in the dust. “Well, that eliminates going back to the castle, unless we conjure some help.”

  “It won’t do any good. Say I doubled or tripled Snowy. He might disappear when we got inside the castle.”

  “Then you’d use castle magic to duplicate him there.”

  “Yeah. Okay, you have every angle covered. But it’d still be a matter of going up against Incarnadine.”

  “Look,” Sir Gene said. “We have to do something. We can’t stay here. With you we wouldn’t starve, but I for one don’t want to spend the rest of my life —”

  “Okay, all right, I know what you’re saying.” Linda ran a hand through her blond hair. “Let’s get closer to the node. Maybe then I’ll be able to tell whether or not I can control the force.”

  They went down the other side of the rise and crossed a wide depression. The terrain grew more cratered as they progressed. They walked for about fifteen minutes in as straight a line as possible, Linda leading the way.

  She stopped. “Jesus, it’s strong.”

  “Is it here?”

  “A little bit farther.”

  They moved on until Linda stopped again.

  “This is unbelievable.”

  “Can you handle it?” Sir Gene asked pointedly.

  “I’m not sure. It’s so strange, so powerful.”

  “Try something. Duplicate Snowclaw.”

  Linda said, “You know, when I did it before it was in the middle of a fight. It just seemed the right thing to do at the time. I don’t even know how I first thought of it. But just to do it, here, now —”

  “You must.” Sir Gene’s gaze was hard, adamant.

  Linda stared back. “Are you on our side?”
r />   “What do you mean?”

  “Who are you?”

  He looked off. “I’m Gene Ferraro, of course.”

  “Are you? Or are you really …?”

  He turned on her. “See here, I could ask the same question of you. We’ve seen Incarnadine’s double. How can I be sure you’re not Linda’s?”

  She had no answer.

  He exhaled. “I grant that you’ve every right to suspect me, but for the moment, no matter what my true identity, we’re on the same side. Does that answer your question?”

  Linda nodded slowly. “Yes, I guess it does.”

  “Then conjure Snowclaw some comrades-in-arms.”

  Linda turned to the great white beast. “Snowy, do you have any objection?”

  “Do whatever you have to do, Linda. I’m ready to go back there and kick some hind ends.”

  “Okay,” Linda said. “We’ll try it.”

  Linda sidestepped twice, then moved forward a bit. Sir Gene backed off to give her room.

  “Here goes.”

  She closed her eyes. There was silence. At length, something began to form in the air above her. At first it was an almost imperceptible movement, a whirling. Then it grew darker and more turbulent. It swelled and took shape, forming a funnel cloud.

  Sir Gene and Snowclaw edged back. Linda’s eyes were still shut and her arms were stiff at her sides. She began to teeter, as if caught in the flux of some oscillating invisible force. Her eyelids fluttered.

  The thing above her grew. It became a dark cone-shaped vortex, rotating rapidly. Dust rose all around.

  Linda dropped to the ground. Snowclaw rushed to her and picked her up, carried her to one side.

  “Linda, wake up.”

  Head cradled in Snowclaw’s arms, Linda opened her eyes. “What happened?”

  “Good Lord,” Sir Gene said.

  The cloud was huge now, a black cyclone. A high-pitched whine emanated from it.

  Suddenly a white shape dropped out of the cloud, a furred creature. It hit the ground, rolled, and sprang to its feet. It bore a huge broadax.

  It was Snowclaw. “I’m ready,” he said.

  Linda stood, looked at the Snowclaw who had helped her up, then at the new Snowclaw. “I guess it works.”

  “What is that thing?” Sir Gene said, aghast, pointing at the cloud.

  “I don’t know.”

  “You mean you can’t control it?”

  “Nope. Told you it’d be risky.”

  The cloud disgorged another furry hulk. Another Snowclaw. The two new ones looked at each other, then at the original, who raised his broadax in greeting.

  “Hi, guys,” he said.

  “This is getting interesting,” Linda said.

  Another Snowclaw dropped, then another. More followed.

  “You’ll have to stop it at some point,” Sir Gene said.

  Linda shook her head. “I can’t touch that thing. It’s going to make Snowclaws until it decides to quit.”

  Dismayed, Sir Gene watched. The phenomenon seemed to be generating Snowclaws at an ever-increasing rate. It was a downpour of white fur and battle-axes.

  “Well, General, you’ve got your army,” Linda said. “Now what are you going to do with it?”

  Eighteen

  Golfworld

  “Look at this!” Thaxton said indignantly.

  The fairway on the twelfth hole was mostly sand with patches of burnt grass. However daunting, though, the twelfth hole was an improvement over the eleventh, which had been mostly superheated rock, and a vast improvement over the tenth, which had featured hazards of sulphuric acid and man-eating plants in the rough. (They had looked man-eating, Thaxton claimed.)

  “Get out your sand wedge,” Dalton said.

  The gargoyle twosome was playing ahead, making their approach shots.

  “Go ahead,” Dalton said. “You have the honor.”

  Thaxton had birdied the last hole. His injuries seemed to have been liberating, somehow. What did he have to lose? His play had improved. His leg was unbroken but very sore, and he still hobbled using his partner’s two-iron as a crutch. He owed his intact bones to the fact that the clubhouse roof had not been concrete but some lighter material. Also, the offending chunk of masonry had rolled onto him after falling. A direct hit would have done real damage.

  “They look out of range,” Thaxton said as he watched the gargoyles hike to the green. He yelled fore, anyway, and hit his drive.

  They played across the desert. Thaxton swore he saw things moving in the sand. Dalton saw nothing.

  “Are there bloody big worms in sand?” he asked.

  “You never know what you may find in a dune,” Dalton said.

  In the burning wastes every lie was a “fried egg,” but they carried on. Dalton made a beauty of a cut shot and was on the green in three. Thaxton did even better, sinking his chip shot for an eagle.

  “You’re quite proud of yourself, aren’t you?” Dalton said.

  “All in a day’s play, my dear fellow,” Thaxton said smugly.

  Dalton two-putted and they went off to find the next tee, which was nowhere in sight.

  “That way?” Thaxton asked, pointing to the right.

  “Out across there,” Dalton said, indicating flats ahead.

  They walked for a good long while. The desert wastes blended to arid plain. The sky became a strange color, a sort of yellowish green. Dark mountains lay opposite the large blue sun.

  “God, it is blue, isn’t it?” Thaxton said, shading his eyes.

  “Blue-white. A blue giant star, right at the top of the Main Sequence.”

  “The what?”

  “Astronomy lingo. Blue giants are very large, very hot stars.”

  “Bloody hot. I’m sweating like a Turk.”

  “What’s this?”

  Thaxton looked around. “What’s what?”

  “Up ahead. Is that a road?”

  Indeed it was a road, a wide black highway running from horizon to horizon. They walked to it and stood on the shoulder, looking one way and then the other. No traffic in sight. Thaxton put one spiked shoe on the paved surface and scraped it back and forth.

  “Doesn’t seem to be macadam or asphalt.”

  “Black concrete?” Dalton ventured.

  “A bit strange.”

  “Yeah,” Dalton said, nodding slowly.

  Thaxton tilted his head to one side. “Hear that?”

  “What?”

  “A buzzing?”

  Dalton listened. “Yup. Any electric lines around?”

  “I think it’s coming from the road.” Thaxton tried to stoop but couldn’t.

  Dalton did and cocked an ear. “Maybe. Faintly buzzing.”

  “Interesting.”

  “I hear something else.”

  Thaxton looked up the road. “Something’s coming.”

  They waited. At the road’s vanishing point a silver dot grew to a bigger dot, then got a lot bigger very fast. The thing roared like a wounded beast.

  “Good God, what’s that?”

  “A very fancy eighteen-wheeler.”

  It was a trailer truck, that was sure, but an intimidatingly futuristic one, composed of daring curved planes, clear bubbles, and other rakish features. Whatever it was rolling on, there seemed to be more than eighteen of them. The vehicle was huge and it was traveling at a terrific rate of speed.

  Suddenly it began to decelerate, emitting all sorts of horrendous screeches and roars. The golfers warily stepped back from the edge of the road. The vehicle swerved to the shoulder as it braked and came to a shuddering stop not more than ten feet from the golfers.

  The two walked around the gargantuan cab and looked up at what they took to be the driver’s window.

  A port hissed open and a man poked his head out. He was about thirty-five with wavy dark hair and twinkling eyes. There was a rugged, blue-jawed handsomeness to him. He flashed an engaging smile.

  “Greetings, gentlemen. We didn’t know this
planet was inhabited. Fact is, it’s not on any official map. Are we lost, or are you?”

  “We’re not natives,” Thaxton said, “if that’s what you mean. Just playing a few holes of golf.”

  “Golf, eh? What’s your handicap?”

  “Oh, God, high twenties, I’m afraid. Do you golf?”

  “No time, I’m always on the road.”

  “Of course. I say, exactly where is this planet? We’re strangers here ourselves.”

  “Supposed to be in the Lesser Magellanic Cloud. Where are you from?”

  “Uh, nice truck you have there,” Dalton said.

  “Thanks. I’m behind in the payments.”

  “Who’s the manufacturer?”

  “GP Technologies. They make a flashy rig.”

  “Impressive.”

  “It’s seen a lot of road.”

  A beautiful face appeared at the window. Its owner had short dark hair and cool blue eyes.

  “Hi,” she said. “Are you fellows starhiking?”

  “No, ma’am,” Dalton said. “We’re playing golf.”

  “Didn’t know there was a course on this world,” the driver said. “Didn’t think there was any life on it at all.”

  “There may not be life,” Thaxton said, “but there’s death on the tenth hole.”

  “Tough course, huh?”

  “Rather,” Thaxton said. “Tell me, where does this road go?”

  “Oh, it goes all over. From star to star, world to world.”

  “More balmy worlds. All we need, really. Another thing — rather strange, perhaps it’s the heat. But is there any reason for the road making a sort of buzzing noise?”

  “Oh, that’s roadbuzz. You should always listen to roadbuzz, but never believe any of it.”

  “Yes, but why does it make that sound?”

  “Nobody knows. The road’s a living thing. It conforms with the changing terrain over eons. How it does that, only the Road-builders know, and they’re not talking.”

  Bemused, Thaxton nodded. “Right. Well, we’d best be off. Very nice to talk with you.”

  Dalton said, “By the way, you didn’t happen to spot the thirteenth tee, did you?”

  “Afraid not,” the driver said. “If I see it, though, I’ll double back and let you know.”

  “Appreciate it,” Dalton said, stepping back. “Take care, now.”

  The driver nodded. “Don’t take any wooden kilocredits.”

  “Listen, if you see any castles off the side of the road,” Dalton said, then thought better of it. “Uh, never mind.”