The army below suddenly fell deathly silent. Then it erupted into a cacophony of yells and howls.
"Now!" Robin Hood sprang forward down the path.
Matt ran to keep up with him. "Can you really see where you're going?"
"This star-filled sky is bright, compared with the gloom of Sherwood's night! Have a care, Lord Wizard—the path is not quite even."
Matt stumbled and regained his balance, but that put him far enough behind so that he was caught up among his companions, in the middle of Robin Hood's company. Little John, Maid Marian, and Will Scarlet went merrily leaping ahead, down the hillside and into the army. Quarterstaves whirled, clearing a path for them to an accompaniment of yells and curses. Matt saw a soldier freeze in midscratch, then grab at his sword—and suddenly, an arrow was standing in his chest, and he was reeling backward Then he was gone, and they were pounding past the place where he'd been, but Matt was trying to remind his stomach that its place was with him.
Then an enemy sorcerer rose up on horseback, waving his wand. Matt didn't wait to hear what the man was saying, or to see its results; he just called out,
"Your very, very rapid, unintelligible patter
Isn't likely to be heard,
And if it is, it doesn't matter!"
Then he snapped his wand down, pointing straight at the sorcerer. The man reeled in his saddle and fell, out cold. The ranks closed and hid the fallen sorcerer—but ahead, two knights, groaning with the torture of the suppressed urge to scratch, stepped together to block the group's path, swords swinging high.
Maid Marian thrust her quarterstaff between one's ankles and twisted as she leaped aside. The man tumbled, flailing—and as he fell, she swung the staff, knocking his sword spinning away. Then her quarterstaff rose up and slammed down.
Matt winced.
The other knight was struggling with an arrow that had somehow appeared between his shoulder piece and his breastplate. Little John reached out with a quarterstaff and tipped him aside.
Then Matt saw Friar Tuck parry a sword cut from a madly scratching trooper, riposte—and freeze. The outlaw next to him ran an arrow into the trooper, while Tuck's lips moved. Matt couldn't hear what he was saying, but followed the direction of his gaze, and saw a sorcerer with a striped foolscap waving a wand in a spiral, roughly in Tuck's direction. Matt lifted his own wand, but before he could say anything, the sorcerer crumpled like tinfoil under a horse's hoof.
Tuck turned away, his lips thin, and slapped another trooper aside with the flat of his blade.
Then Narlh roared behind him, and Matt risked a quick glance. A knight ran hooting, clutching at the seat of his iron pants.
And Matt slammed into the back of the man in front of him.
It was Fadecourt, who reached up in time to keep Matt from tipping over. "Have a care! We've come to the moat!"
Matt looked up and saw a huge blackness rushing toward him with a roaring clatter of chain.
But they had to stand still while they waited for the drawbridge to descend, and a sorcerer's chant pierced the din. Suddenly, the knights and men-at-arms nearby were rushing them, a hundred pikes and a dozen human tanks with swords and shields, pikes stabbing, edges whirling to cut.
Robin Hood loosed six arrows, almost too fast for the eye to follow, and the six knights fell, with arrows sticking out of various joints. More arrows filled the air, and Puck was shrieking something arcane in Matt's ear. For his own part, he sang out,
"Oh see, these ferocious men of war,
Who come running right into our arms!
Lay them low for our sons and our country!
To arms, my citizens!
Withold your pity's sense!
We march, we march, till impure blood
Shall water deep our fields!"
The sorcerer fell, and the men-at-arms and knights let out a howl as the itching hit them redoubled. But their racket was drowned out by the huge thud of the drawbridge striking earth.
"Across!" Robin yelled, and the merry men ran for the great gateway, thundering across the bridge. Matt was shocked to see that several of them carried wounded comrades—he hadn't realized they'd suffered casualties of their own.
A hundred throats howled like baying dogs, and Matt risked a quick look back. In spite of the itch, armored men were pelting toward the lowered drawbridge—but a hail of crossbow bolts rained down on them. Matt turned away and ran.
They were in the gatehouse, but still running—and the portcullis was down across its end! Matt whirled—betrayed! But the drawbridge was already up and rising fast. Torches burned along the stone tunnel, and Matt could see Robin Hood, grinning in elation, as were most of his men—except Tuck, who was sighing and beating his breast.
Suddenly, Matt was very much aware of glittering eyes behind the arrow slits in the wall, and was even more aware that those slits could rain arrows to skewer them all. Worse, Robin and his men would fire back—and their arrows never missed, not even so small a target as the murder holes. Matt had no wish to see his allies slaughter one another.
"Who are you, and why are you come?" a voice behind a murder hole asked.
"Friends!" Robin Hood shouted to the tunnel in general, but Matt was elbowing his way toward the slit from which the question had come. He had recognized the voice. "I am Matthew Mantrell, Lord Wizard of Merovence!" he cried. "I am come in aid of my comrades, Sir Guy de Toutarien, Max, and Stegoman!"
The portcullis rose up so fast Matt thought the law of gravity had been inverted—and the Black Knight stood there in a pool of torchlight, arms spread wide. "Sir Matthew, my friend and ally! Praise Heaven you are come!"
But Narlh shouldered past, every muscle stiff, eyes bulging, staring at the huge, scaly form beyond Sir Guy. Then he charged, bellowing, "You misbegotten son of a sea snake and a buzzard! You're dead, monster, you are bait!"
CHAPTER 18
Strange Allies
Narlh scrabbled roaring toward the dragon. Sir Guy shouted and jumped into the dracogriff's path, trying to block him, but Narlh hurdled him in a single bound and sailed toward the bigger reptile.
A blast of flame filled the air between them.
Narlh hit the ground, flattened himself against it until the fire had died, then sprang at its source. The dragon leaped back and snapped, "Invader! Interloper! Go, get thee gone! Come not near these good folk!"
"Pretty loud, for a bully! But I'm not a half-grown drakling any more, you pie-eyed prowler!" He pounced, but the dragon leaped high, and people fled to the walls of the courtyard, screaming.
"Oh, yeah? Well, I can fly, too!" Narlh launched himself up, teeth slashing.
"Do you dare, half heart? I bade you go when you did trespass before! I bid you go now, or I'll hurl you o'er the wall!"
"Bade?" Narlh shrieked, outraged. "You did a lot more than bid, snake-face! You gave me a royal roasting, that's what you did! Toast this, you bat-winged belly-crawler!" And he pounced on the dragon like a hawk on a mouse.
Or an alligator, rather. The dragon twisted away from beneath him, all but his tail—and the dracogriff seized the tip with a bite like a vise. The dragon bellowed in anger more than pain—but also in high octane, and the flame swept the wall, just above the heads of the screaming spectators. The fire cut off, and they fled for doorways.
"Separate them, my friend!" Sir Guy cried.
"Darn right I will!" Matt answered.
"Stone walls do not a prison make,
Nor iron bars a cage—
But both will function well enough,
Till these two calm their rage!
Let grilles form up round both of them,
Lest monsters do engage!"
Not the world's greatest verse, but it worked well enough—huge iron grids suddenly appeared around all six sides of both monsters, clashing shut and dropping them to the courtyard surface with a crash.
"Lemme outa here!" Narlh tore at the bars in frustration. "Whaddaya think you're doing, Wizard?"
"Trying to prev
ent two of my friends from hurting each other!"
Both monsters froze, staring at Matt. Then, in chorus, they roared, "Friends?"
"He's a bully and a homicidal maniac!" Narlh screeched.
"This abomination is an insult to all Dragondom, and a trespasser besides!" the dragon howled.
"It was my beast of a father who was the abomination, you half-crocked-dile!" Narlh bellowed. "He seduced my mother and flew laughing away! Her, the most beautiful, innocent griffin that ever was! And you have the gall to defend him?"
The dragon froze. Then he said, in glacial tones, "No. And if 'tis true, he will die battling a dozen dragons. His is the right of defense, but ours is the privilege of enforcing our law. Only tell me his name, and I will hale him before the High Council, to answer for his misdeeds with tooth and flame."
"I don't know his name!" Narlh bleated in agony. "He didn't exactly leave us his pedigree and his coat of arms, y'know! All he left was me—and a ravaged soul!"
The dragon crouched, eyes smoldering. At last, he said, "His deed shames me, and all dragonkind. We will seek him out, we will tear him."
"Oh, yeah, sure! The only thing you tear is half-fledged wanderers with dreams in their heads!"
The dragon glowered at him, then said, "None may enter the realm of the Free save themselves alone—or their guests."
Matt decided it was time to jump in—literally. He landed between the two cages, holding up a palm toward the dracogriff. "Hold it, Narlh!"
The monster gulped, then coughed and gasped. "Don't do that, Wizard! You know what it's like to swallow a fireball?"
The dragon stared, then swung his head toward Matt. "He is thy friend, Matthew!"
"Yes," Matt said. "He has saved my life twice, at least."
Narlh stared, frozen. Then, slowly, he turned his head toward Matt, and there was bitterness and blame in every line of his face.
"Don't look at me like that!" Matt held up both hands, beseeching. "There's a reason for it—what Stegoman did to you! He wouldn't do it again for the life of him!"
"Oh?" Narlh's syllable dripped sarcasm. "I suppose a demon made him do it, huh?"
"Of a kind, yes—the demon rum, or its first cousin."
"Doing what?" Sir Guy stepped up, frowning from one beast to the other, his hand on his sword.
"Burned Narlh and chased him out of the air, so badly that he fell, and just barely survived," Matt said, his voice low. "Stegoman was on sentry duty at the border of Dragondom, Sir Guy—and he was drunk."
Narlh stared.
Then he said, "Drunk? A dragon, drunk? What'd he do, drink a brewery?"
"Nay." Stegoman's face set into rocky lines. "Mine own fumes. When I breathed flame, I became giddy and crazed. I was rent for that, monster—my wings were torn in many places; I was condemned to crawl upon the ground for hurting other dragons."
"Oh, sure, dragons! But who cares about a lowly dracogriff, huh?"
"None saw that," Stegoman confessed, "or I might have been taken from the air much sooner."
"Sure. Right. A model of justice, these dragons."
Stegoman's eyes narrowed. "Do not mock."
"Why not?" Narlh blasted. "Who're you trying to feed the big lie, lizard? So you were grounded, huh? Then how'd your wings get healed?"
"By Matthew," Stegoman said simply.
Narlh stared at him. Then, slowly, he turned toward Matt again. "You traitor."
"I hadn't even met you yet! Besides, Narlh, I cured his drunkenness, too! He can breathe enough flame to fire a steam engine for a hundred miles and not even be tipsy! That's why I know he wouldn't fry you now!"
" 'Tis true," Stegoman said "I would summon other dragons and chase thee away from our borders, aye—yet not even that, if thou wert to tell me of thy complaint against one of our number."
"Sure," Narlh said. "Sure." But he didn't bellow this time.
Then he turned to Matt. "If you're such good buddies, how come he isn't traveling with you anymore?"
"Because," Stegoman said, "Matthew is a wedded man, and cannot go gadding about on a quest—and there's no place at court for a dragon."
"There will always be a place for you at Alisande's court!" Matt protested.
A hint of a smile showed at the corners of the saurian's mouth. "Bless thee for thy fond protestations, Matthew—yet even had I stayed, thou wouldst have had scant time for the company of a confirmed old bachelor like myself. Nay, a wife leaves a man little time for unwed friends."
Sir Guy frowned. "I would not say—"
"Nor would I," Matt cut in, "considering that I didn't marry her."
Stegoman stared. "Not marry..."
Sir Guy looked up, startled "Why, how is this, Matthew?"
"Alisande has this thing about being nobly born." Matt shrugged the issue away. "I developed a certain desire for a higher station in life."
Sir Guy lifted his head slowly, looking more and more worried as he went.
"Desire, yeah." Narlh's jaw lolled open in a grin. "And a big mouth. Tell 'em about your little memory lapse, Wizard."
"Memory lapse?" Stegoman turned to Matt, frowning.
Matt felt his face grow hot. "I, uh...kind of bent the Third Commandment a little..."
"Bent?" Narlh hooted. "He bent it so far it snapped back!"
" 'Thou shalt not take the name of the Lord thy God in vain'?" Sir Guy turned very somber. "What did you call Him to witness, my friend?"
"I'll, uh, tell you later." Matt forced a sickly grin. "Suffice it to say that it resulted in my undertaking a quest remarkably similar to your own."
"And not entirely voluntarily." Finally, a smile broke through Sir Guy's cloudy mood. "Well, no matter how you are come, you are well come! I thank all the saints for your presence; now I can hope!"
"So can I," Narlh growled. "Hope these bars'll rust! If I have to wait that long to get at that overgrown salamander, it'll be worth it!"
"Salamander? Why, thou knowest not of what thou dost speak, foolish halfling!"
"Halfling?" Narlh leaped forward, slamming into the bars and bumping the whole cage forward a yard. "You take that back, you nettled newt! Or so help me, I'll haul my brass over there and toast you for a mallow!"
"Thy cage is iron, not brass," Stegoman snorted, "and thou hast but half a brain! Half a brain, half a dragon, half a griffin—why, thou art so many things thou art naught of any, least of all a dragon!"
"I've had it!" Narlh bellowed. He threw himself against the bars, bumping his cage closer and closer to Stegoman's. "You high-and-mighty hypocrite! You self-righteous, pompous excuse for a syllabub! You're the kind of flag-waving traitor who'd turn around and lead a hunter to a nest, to kill the hatchlings for their blood!"
"I? Never!" Stegoman roared, outraged—and Narlh had to duck the tip of his flame. "I, stoop to so vile a vengeance? To crawl beneath the lowest of the low? How durst thou accuse me of such! Blood must answer! Wizard, take away these bars, for I am hot for..." He suddenly froze.
Matt looked at the dragon's eyes and made a guess as to what was going on in his mind.
Narlh turned to him, narrow-eyed. "What'd you do to him?"
"Nothing," Matt said, low-voiced. "I think he's just realized how come you would think of such a vile insult."
"Aye." Stegoman gazed at the dracogriff out of hooded eyes. "Thou, too, hast known their horrors, hast thou not? Thou wast not the only egg hatched from thy brood, wast thou?"
Narlh, glared, outraged. Then he whipped his head around to Matt. "You told!"
Matt shook his head. "I didn't know. You never told me. You were here, you heard—I didn't say a word about it."
"Why else wouldst thou have thought of such scum?" Stegoman said. "Why else wouldst thou think that the nadir of life-forms is the hunter who doth seek out hatchlings to drain and sell their blood, even as they destroy those of dragons? Thou must needs have known them, must thou not?"
"Awright awready! So I ran, I flew, I fled! The fiend was towering up into the sky
, from where I was! I was only two feet long! I chickened out, all right? I didn't even try to fight! Now you know! Y' happy now?" Then Narlh bowed his head, his voice choked, hushed. "All of 'em! All my brothers and sisters, all five! And I didn't even raise a claw to defend 'em! Well, almost none." His head snapped up, glaring at Stegoman. "I did scratch his face for him! And my sister almost got away! But he..." He choked and turned his face aside.
"None can blame thee," Stegoman said quietly. "Thou didst fight whiles thou couldst, and fled when thou couldst not fight. Nay, I, too, fled, for the wight was far too huge for me."
Narlh looked up, startled. "You...?"
"I was not born vast, no more than thou wert," Stegoman reminded him. "I, too, was hunted by these vile humans, who pander to the more depraved of the sorcerers." He turned to Matt. "Take off these bars, Wizard!"
"Hey, hold on!" Narlh bellowed. "If you let him out, you got to..." He stared as his cage faded away. "I didn't even hear you talk."
"You were kind of loud." Matt was beginning to understand a lot about his monstrous friend.
Stegoman waddled up toward Narlh. The dracogriff braced himself, but the dragon only said, "Come. We must discuss how we will clear the earth of these vile sorcerers, who buy our blood—how we will chase them, as their minions have chased us, and scour them from the land, thou and I."
Narlh stared at him for a few long minutes.
Then he nodded. "Yeah, sure. Awright " He turned his head a little away, eyeing Stegoman narrowly. "Truce?"
"Truce," Stegoman confirmed, "and peace, if thou wilt, for no greater reason than our common friendship with one of the few wizards who doth disdain to feed his power from others' lives. Nay, and if thou dost wish to seek justice for thy mother, I will myself escort you into Dragondom—when this coil is done, and Ibile is cleansed."
"Yeah. Yeah, sure." Narlh nodded, faster and faster. "Yeah, we'll get the wizard to work up the right verses, and tear 'em outa their lairs!...You really think we got a chance?"
"As to that..." Stegoman said, and led the other monster away, chatting quietly, plotting mayhem.
People began to look out of arrow slits and doorways, wondering if the quiet in the courtyard meant anything trustworthy.
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