The spirit looked confused. “I know not of war. That Sycorax is evil, there is no doubt. Her storms on the seas bring shipwreck’d sailors. These she turns to stones and plants. Those spirits who refuse her chores are lock’d in the heart of trees to suffer and cry.”
Shea looked around into the woods. “Are we safe here, Bitter-Root?”
“Aye, fortune brought you to our side of the island. Her magic is not so strong in these woods. The unicorns hold back the goblins. But now Ariel’s her servant, I fear all’s lost.”
Shea thought about Vaclav. “I don’t suppose you’ve seen a large purple cow wandering around anywhere?”
Belphebe laughed. “’Twas he who sent Bitter-Root unto us.”
“Certes,” said the spirit. “We found him near our cell. ’Twas but a simple task to make him right.”
Shea mumbled something obscene under his breath. He could just picture Polacek stretched out on his back while a bevy of beautiful half-naked spirits stuffed peeled grapes into his mouth.
Bitter-Root suggested they follow her to her cell, which was not too far away. A unicorn was called to carry Belphebe.
“What about me?” asked Shea. “Don’t I get a lift?” The spirit began to explain how unicorns have an intense dislike of men. “Oh, right, I knew that,” muttered Shea. There was no candy handy for him to make treats to win this one over to him.
Belphebe patted her mount’s ivory haunch and smiled at her husband. “Here’s a guide you may hold.” she said, indicating the unicorn’s tail. “Or wouldst conjure yourself a r . . . rynossery as you did in Loselwood?”
Harold winced, recalling the rhino he had accidentally summoned for a mount in Faerie. Quite handy at the time, but this situation didn’t really call for a Sherman tank. But if he changed the spell a little bit . . .
“Not a bad idea. Hang on a minute, ladies,” said Shea. “I don’t intend to stumble around in the dark holding on to a unicorns tail!” He stepped over to the stream. Using wet sand, he quickly fashioned a crude model of a horse’s head, leaving out the stick for a horn that had once brought him a rhino. Shea crouched over his handiwork, gesturing as he recited:
“Oh, steed that feeds on reeds,
And drinks the whirlpool’s surge,
In the name of the horse of Ceres,
I conjure you now; emerge!
He paused a moment, immersed in deep thought, and then continued:
“Strong, yet of me subservient,
Bring a horse without a horn,
Up from this small river,
I conjure you . . . be born!
The model and the stream nearby burst into a cloud of spray and sand. Harold figured the horse of Ceres would have to be some sort of plowhorse. As the spray fell to the ground a deep grunt revealed that his magic had succeeded . . . to a certain degree.
Staring at him blankly from the stream was a small but full-grown hippopotamus!
Belphebe burst into laughter. Shea winced. There was no turning back now. So he’d summoned a hippo; well, he’d ride a hippo! Besides, it was supposed to be subservient. Shea stepped back and leaped onto the animal’s back. The enormous creature let out a basso profundo yelp and began waddling rapidly downstream.
Shea bounced around spread-eagled on the broad back and hung on for dear life, the memory of his ride on the bull rhino flashing before his eyes. There must be some way to control this thing!
Belphebe, Bitter-Root, and the fire disappeared behind him. The hippo seemed to be picking up speed. Between its bouncy gait and slippery skin, it was all he could to stay on top. Shea yelled out commands: “Stop! Turn right! Turn left!” He kicked the rotund beast with his heels, but to no avail. The hippo continued its mad, thunderous flight splashing and jouncing down the stream.
In desperation Shea grabbed the hippo’s head and pulled hard on the right ear. The animal slowed and circled in that direction until it was pointed back upstream. Its manner now docile, it waddled back the way it had come until they reached the dying campfire. Shea pulled hard on both ears and the hippo opened its mouth, belched out a loud grunt, and came to a halt.
“Piece of cake!” Shea said triumphantly. “Any time you’re ready, ladies.”
His wife chuckled and Bitter-Root shook her head in amazement. Her gossamer wings fluttered silently and she took to the air. Belphebe followed on her unicorn. Now that he was unobserved Shea breathed a sigh of relief and wiped the sweat from his forehead. He was not sure how to get his bus started again. Cautiously, he kicked the immense creature with his heels. The hippo came to life and plodded slowly after the unicorn.
They were traveling in the dark of early morning, and Shea could barely make out the ghostly forms of his companions in the starlight that filtered through the frees. Fortunately, the hippo seemed to be dogging the unicorn’s steps and required no steering at all.
They worked their way uphill, following the stream for some time. At last Belphebe’s mount and Bitter-Root stayed alongside the stream. Whenever possible, the hippo preferred to splash noisily through the water, soaking Shea from head to toe.
Just as the purple light of dawn could be seen through the tops of the trees, they turned from the stream and headed into a narrow, tree-covered valley. It was moist and overgrown with ferns, and the air was filled with a pleasant musty odor. Shea noticed that Bitter-Root had been joined by two globes of amber light, floating silently beside her.
The foliage closed in around them, leaving barely enough room on the trail for his wide-bodied mount. Soon, however, the vegetation gave way to rock and the trail widened. The odd procession came to a halt, and the hippo grunted restively.
Bitter-Root was now surrounded by several mysterious floating balls of colored light. She turned and spoke, “Seest thou here, this is the mouth of our cell, and these,” indicating the lights, are my fairy friends. Your animals will come no further. Pray dismount and release them.”
Belphebe hopped down in one graceful motion. Shea slid off the hippo clumsily but managed to land on both feet. Belphebe was whispering into the unicorn’s ear. Shea slapped his river horse on the rump and said: “Farewell, Horatio!” The beast let out a series of low bleats and waddled off into the morning. The unicorn circled cautiously around Shea and trotted off after the hippo.
III
They entered the mouth of a limestone cavern. More phosphorescent fairies appeared, casting a dim but pleasant glow on the walls of the rock chamber.
“I’ll bet this saves on your electric bill.” said Shea as they set out again by fairy light. Bitter-Root led them on, escorted by her amber friends. Fairies of several shades of green floated around Belphebe, while Shea’s path was lit by a solitary red globe.
“We spirits are not by choice dwellers of the earth,” said Bitter-Root. She had turned to face Harold and Belphebe and was flying effortlessly backward into the cave. ’Tis said Setebos himself liv’d here in times bygone. Yet now we come and are safe from the witch’s fury.”
The spirit flew up to a ledge above them and tossed down a rope ladder. “I fear you must climb, where I would fly.” Shea wondered who needed a rope ladder when all the inhabitants seemed capable of flight. Climbing up the ladder behind his wife, Harold noticed sadly what the short time spent in this world had done to Belphebe’s expensive dress. She had tied what little remained of it around her hips.
They walked along the ledge and then turned into a smaller tunnel. This new passage sloped down and was joined by two side tunnels, which branched in from above. Bitter-Root continued on, and soon they found themselves in an enormous room illuminated by hundreds of glowing fairies. The roof was covered by stalactites which merged with stalagmites around the edges to form thick multicolored columns that shimmered in the fairy glow.
As Shea looked about him, he suddenly noticed Polacek on the far side of the room, seated at a thick wooden table across from a swarthy, dark-haired man. They were playing a game of chess.
Vaclav spotted the new ar
rivals, “Hi ya Harold, Belphebel Welcome to Fairyland.” The dark than twisted his thick black beard between his fingers, studying the chessboard intently. “This is Snag, a sailor, late of Naples,” Polacek continued. “You’ll have to forgive him for not sayin’ hello. We’re playing timed moves, and there’s a hot bet going.”
Sitting cross-legged on the table, watching the game, was a male spirit. He motioned to Shea and Belphebe. “Come, be seated and partake of our wine!” Bitter-Root had already drifted over to the table and was filling two goblets. “My name is Moonwort.” The male spirit flew up from the table effortlessly and landed in front of Belphebe with a deep bow. “I am blest in your acquaintance.” He turned to Shea. “Master Pollychek hath told how you have come from so far to our aid.”
Harold shot the Czech a meaningful glare on hearing this news, but Vaclav quickly averted his eyes. As the newcomers sat down, Snag made an unintelligible sound, moved a piece, and turned a small hourglass on the table. “Your go, Polish.” The sailor then turned, grabbed Shea’s hand, and shook It heartily. “All hail, great master. Your reputation doth precede you. Now shall we make short work of that miserable Sycorax!” The sailor had paws the size of baseball mitts.
Bitter-Root passed out the wine and spoke. “Here, before thee, is the only man we have saved from the witch. As his ship split upon the rocks, Moonwort and I carried him off unseen. His companions are all now stones by the beach.”
The wine was light and sweet. Polacek was frowning at the game. Shea smiled to himself. The Czech was several pieces down and Snag had accumulated a pile of American coins.
“Marry, Bitter-Root, is this all your number?” Belphebe asked with concern.
The she-spirit nodded sadly. “Aye, good Quamoclit stands watch on the hill. With her, we are but three, and the sailor.” A blue fairy danced in front of them, “Yea, and the fairies . . . and now, ye. Pray, what shall we do?” the spirit looked into Shea’s eyes expectantly.
The wine danced on Shea’s empty stomach and made him light-headed. “How about breakfast, for starters.” he replied. “Then we can make our plans.” Snag looked up from the game and nodded in agreement.
The two spirits vanished immediately. Moments later they reappeared, each holding a large silver tray laden with food, which they set before their guests. Harold and Belphebe helped themselves to bread and cheese and joints of beef, while the chess game continued. Two more moves, however, and Vaclav was forced to surrender after losing his queen and another fifty cents. Snag stuffed his winnings into a loather pouch and proceeded to devour an entire roast bird.
Shea leaned back and spoke. “As I see it, we need to figure out a way to get that book back from Sycorax. We can practice our magic without it,” he shot Vaclav a dirty glance, “but I don’t want her to have access to the accumulated magical knowledge of six other worlds.”
Polacek grimaced. “It may be too late already, Harold; if we can read those symbols, so can she.”
The meal continued in a somewhat more somber mood. Looking about, Shea noticed the spirits were not eating. He could not help but wonder if conjured meals had any actual substance to them. Still his hunger had been assuaged, and Snag had finished his meal with several deep, satisfied belches.
After questioning Bitter-Root and Moonwort to some length, Shea learned that Sycorax summoned a storm about every fortnight to blow sailors and their ships to doom. The effort, however, drained the witch so completely that she spent the next day sleeping in her cave to regain her power. That, it seemed, would be the best time to slip in and regain the precious magic book. It was soon ascertained that they had two days before Sycorax could brew up her next batch of meteorological mischief.
* * *
That afternoon found the three human beings out in the woods preparing aircraft. Flying broomsticks were a speciality of Shea’s. For once, he had time to build them slowly and carefully. High-speed two-seaters were what he had in mind.
Snag and Polacek tramped into the forest and returned with two straight young oak saplings. With some diligent pruning, these were turned into very large broomsticks. Bundles of straw gathered by Quamoclit were tied to the ends. Belphebe and Bitter-Root contributed eagle feathers, which were securely fastened fore and aft. Finally, short crosspieces were attached to the broomsticks, using strong pliant vines.
“Votsy, you and Snag, watch,” Shea directed. “Belpbebe and I will take one up and show you how it’s done.” Polacek was noticeably unhappy, but his humbling experience as a purple cow was still fresh in his memory. For the moment he was content to let Harold run the show.
The three spirits hovered overhead as Shea straddled his broom, made mystic passes, and began to recite:
“Bird of the Aerie, ruler of sky;
Lend us your wings, so we too may fly.”
The broom jerked in his hands and began to vibrate. Shea looked behind him. Belphebe was astride her end, holding on for dear life.
He looked across to Polacek. “That’s just what you say to get the engine warmed up, Votsy,” stated Harold. “This next part gets you airborne. Once you’re up, use your body to steer,” Shea made more passes and chanted:
“By oak, ash, and maple,
The high air through,
Show me you’re able
To fly swift and true!”
The broom responded quickly and angled skyward with a rush. Belphebe yelped. Shea leaned to the left and the strange craft circled tightly around the hovering splits. He pulled back, shifting his weight forward and the broom went into a tight loop.
“Harold!” cried an anguished Belphebe as he leveled off at treetop height. Shea was pleased. This broom was faster and handled better than any he had made before. The double set of eagle feathers probably accounted for the greater speed and maneuverability.
Shea looked down, and saw Votsy and Snag in an animated conversation. He eased the broom into a downward spiral, but before he and Belphebe reached the ground, Vaclav straddled his broom and began making magic passes. Snag was gesturing too, but the universal language of his gestures told Shea that Snag was not yet ready to become an aeronaut.
Just as Shea was nosing up to make a soft landing, Vaclav shot into the air at an acute angle.
“We have another wager,” yelled Snag, “that he shall not live to touch the earth again!” A desperate scream from above added weight to Snags conviction. Polacek was hanging by his fingers beneath the broom as it plowed erratically up and down through the treetops.
Belphebe hopped off and Shea took to the air in pursuit of Polacek. Vaclav had somehow managed to regain his seat but was still not in control of his wooden airsteed as Shea approached. Polacek circled left and Shea noted with alarm that they were headed straight at each other on a collision course.
At the last moment, Shea executed a perfect Immelmann and came down on top of the Czech. He then reached down and snatched the feathers from the tail of Polacek’s broom and Vaclav nosed up into a stall. While Shea circled effortlessly back to the ground, the Czech came spinning down, landing with an explosion of snapping branches in a clump of juniper bushes.
* * *
It took most of the evening to persuade Snag to ride with Polacek, But on his third flight. Votsy performed some complex aerobatics without incident. Even Shea was convinced that the Czech had finally learned to fly the broom.
That night, after another fine spirit-summoned supper, Shea learned that the spirits would not accompany them on their journey to the witch’s side of the island. They dared not venture near Sycorax, for fear of being put under a spell, as had happened to Ariel.
They wakened before dawn and assembled at the mouth of the owe. Them was ample evidence of the witch’s antics. The trees were lashed by wild winds, and rain fell in heavy torrents.
“Can we fly in this weather?” Belphebe asked with concern.
Harold looked up at the darkening sky. “We’ll soon find out!”
Bitter-Root fluttered up and handed Shea
a lock of her hair tied with a golden thread. “Take thou this,” said the spirit, “and if thou seest Ariel, show’t. Perchance he will return to us.”
Shea stuffed the lock into his breast pocket. Vaclav and Snag had walked their broom out into the rain, which had eased up considerably. They straddled their sapling craft and waved at Shea.
“I’m ready.” Belphebe said from behind. Moments later, the two brooms and their passengers spiraled skyward, with the spirits and several colorful fairies flying in company. They rose above the hills till Shea could see great waves covered with whitecaps in the sea around the island.
The rain and wind made the flight uncomfortable, but the brooms handled well. As they flew west, the green forests gave way to an endless vista of lifeless trees. The division between the lands of Sycorax and that of the spirits was very clear indeed.
Shea looked to either side and noticed that the spirits were gone. Vaclav and Snag zoomed across in front of him. The Czech said something and gestured earthward. Shea could not understand a word, but followed Vaclav as he spiraled down. It was raining harder now. The two brooms cruised above the dead treetops and then circled to a landing atop the crown of a high hill.
The wind howled, and large drops of rain drenched them as the four sought cover behind a rock outcrop.
“I saw the witch!” yelled Polacek, as he crouched next to Snag Shea could just barely hear him through the noise of the storm. “She’s over there on the next hill!” Vaclav said, pointing at the rock behind which they were hiding.
As one, they stood up and leaned over the rock hoping to catch a glimpse of the enemy. The rain had suddenly let up, but ominous black clouds were scudding overhead, and patches of fog and mist obscured their view. Just then a frightful bolt of lightning struck the top of the other hill and Shea was able to make out the figure of Sycorax standing atop the summit. Her robe and cloak were flapping in the wind and she held a long staff in one of her outstretched hands.
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