The Worm Returns

by Piers Anthony

  That stumped him. “You got a better idea?”

  “Yes. There’s an alien conjurer in the nest with a viewfinder. You could use it to conjure the key out.”

  “Condor? View finger? What’s that for?”

  “It makes a special image of you that can go in to locate the target item and fix on it so the conjuration can be accurate.”

  This was confusing. “Special image?”

  “A ghost, if you will. The dragon can’t toast that, because it’s mere illusion.”

  Bad Buffalo didn’t quite follow the logic, but plowed ahead anyway. “So let’s get this condor thingamajig and get that key.”

  Marey looked at the others. “Shall we?”

  “We shall,” Dia agreed.

  They went to the dragon cave and on into the nest. There was the treasure, haphazardly piled. Marey felt through the rubble and came up with a box with a lens on the top. “This.”

  “How’s it work?”

  “It’s designed to be pretty much idiot-proof,” Marey said. “However, there are limits. Just follow my instructions to the letter and you should be all right.”

  They set up the box on a tripod facing the mirror. The dragon was probably watching them, but since he couldn’t get out, that didn’t matter. Maybe. Following the were-mare’s instructions, Bad Buffalo stood beside the box, then touched the lens.

  “Good enough. Now march into the mirror and put your hand on the key. That’s all.”

  Bad Buffalo took a step forward, then remembered something. “How’m I going to get out again, if it’s one way?”

  The three chuckled and even Horse snorted. Annoyed, Bad Buffalo turned around, and paused.

  Dia, Marey, Crag and Horse stood behind the box. Bad Buffalo stood beside it, looking vague.

  Something was odd. Bad Buffalo glanced down at himself. He was here. So who was that by the condor box, that looked just like him, only uglier?

  “You’re a ghost, for the moment, BB,” Dia said. “That’s how the viewfinder works. Go on in; nothing can touch you, literally.”

  He shrugged, then turned about and stepped into the mirror.

  And found himself in the wide-open jaws of the dragon. Immediately they clamped closed on him. Or tried to. They passed right through his body.

  The dragon looked almost as surprised as Bad Buffalo felt. It seemed he hadn’t heard the business about the ghost, or understood it if he had, any more than Bad Buffalo had. Now it was becoming clear. “Tough tits, big mouth,” Bad Buffalo said, punching the dragon on the snoot. But his fist went through as it if were fog.

  “The key,” Dia’s voice reminded him, in his mind.

  Oh. Yeah. Bad Buffalo looked and saw a chain around the dragon’s huge neck. He reached through the neck and put his hand on it.

  The dragon, catching on, reared back, heaving his body to the far side of the chamber. But too late; the key remained in Bad Buffalo’s hand. Then it vanished.

  “Dang!” he swore. “Thought I had it.”

  “You did,” Dia said. “It got conjured to us once you fixed on it. Now get out of there.”

  It did seem to be time, because the dragon was rebounding, sending an incinerating blast of fire. Maybe fire couldn’t touch a ghost either, but Bad Buffalo didn’t risk it. He got out of there fast. The mirror couldn’t stop him.

  There was Dia, holding up the key, which looked like a little letter opener, not that Bad Buffalo had ever opened a letter. He stepped up to his frozen physical self and merged with it. Then Dia hugged him and kissed him, and he knew he was back in one piece. “Now we can go home,” Dia said. “After I fetch one more thing.”

  She dug out what appeared to be a bottle with liquid flowing continuously from its upper level to its lower level.

  “What is it?” Bad Buffalo asked.

  “It’s a streaming audio. I recognized it from a description I read once.”

  “What’s it do?”

  “It streams audio.”

  Bad Buffalo gave up on that one, rather than admit that he couldn’t make sense of it.

  “One other thing,” Crag said. “This is one powerful treasure trove, in rare metals, precious gemstones, and invaluable magic artifacts. Do we want to just leave it here for any oaf to raid?”

  That made them all pause. They had earned this treasure by disposing of the dragon; by rights it was theirs. They didn’t need it, but still, why should they just let any undeserving traveler lout have it? So, they discussed it, came to an agreement, then found a carton of cherry bombs and planted them at the mouth of the cave. Then they retreated a fair distance, and Bad Buffalo fired one bullet into the carton.

  It exploded, bringing down the rock above, collapsing the cave. Now it was nothing but a landslide, as far as anyone could tell. No one would think to find any treasure there. But just to be sure, Marey used another thing she had salvaged from the treasure: a vial of super fertilizer. She poured it on the rubble, and immediately the assorted seeds in the sand sprouted and grew into a thick forest that looked as if it had been there for millennia. Now the treasure was really hidden.

  But if for any reason they should ever want to raid it themselves, they could use the conjure box to get in ghostly and conjure out what they wanted. It would require planning, care, and cooperation, but that was fine; they were now a pretty tightly knit group of two-and-a-half people and two-and-a-half animals.

  “Now we have traveling to do,” Dia said briskly. “We’d better eat.” She glanced at Marey. “Grazing takes too long.”

  “Agreed. I’ll settle for cake and ice cream.”

  Dia fetched the cornucopia from Horse’s saddlebag and tilted it before the were-mare. Out slid a small plate loaded with chocolate cake and cherry ice cream on the top, complete with a little plastic fork.

  “Say,” Bad Buffalo said appreciatively. “Not that I eat sissy stuff like that.”

  Dia tilted the magic horn toward him, and he got a chunk of battered months’-old slightly moldy fruitcake with snow crust on top, and a rusty spoon. That was more his style, as the sprite knew. He pitched in with gusto.

  Then she downloaded a small pile of corn for Crag to peck up, a pile of sweet feed for Horse, and a handful of petite sweet peas for herself. They all feasted.

  Bad Buffalo had to admit it: that corn copia was a nice device. Horse had chosen his gift well. Horse twitched an ear, picking up on his thought.

  Well-fed, they separated briefly for natural functions, then got ready to travel.

  Marey assumed her mare form and carried Crag, still wearing his classy goggles. Dia and Bad Buffalo mounted Horse, she back in his pocket. They made their leisurely way back to where the wormhole had opened. When they got there, Dia used the key to open the wormhole again, to the relief of several swatters who had gotten trapped inside. They propped it open again and went on into the tunnel. They followed the trail of swatters back to Libom 76, the bug planet exit. They left the island, crossing to the mainland, then moved on to where the bugs lived.

  The queen bug was plainly amazed to see them again, but fair was fair: they had stopped the swatter invasion, and deserved the jar of bugs. She provided it. Bad Buffalo got the impression that the queen would be satisfied if she never saw them again; she didn’t like having her routine disrupted.

  They entered the next wormhole. There was the caterpillar, the wormhole maintenance creature, patiently waiting. Dia greeted her gladly. The caterpillar guided them all the way back to Earth.

  Before emerging, Dia addressed the caterpillar. “You have been so helpful that I got a gift for you. I know it gets sort of dull here in the dark tunnels as centuries pass, so here is something to liven up the hours. Just press the button on the top and it streams audio; it won’t stop streaming until you press the button again.” She set the bottle on the floor before the caterpillar. “Like this.” She pressed it.

  Sound came out of it, weird and halfway lovely. The caterpillar was plainly enchanted; rapture fairly poure
d out of her. This was her kind of music.

  They left her to her joy and exited the wormhole. There was the Home Range. Bad Buffalo gave a shout of joy and fired off all six bullets into the air in celebration, then reloaded from the magic bullet box. Dia gave a little shriek of delight. Horse neighed appreciatively.

  Then Bad Buffalo brought out the jar of bugs. “Go get them worms!” he exclaimed as he unscrewed the lid and set them free. The bugs sailed out, formed a small OK sign in midair, and dissipated into the wilderness. They would zero in on any worm that dared show its ugly snout. The mission had been accomplished; the sprites would have their magic back.

  Dia kissed him on the ear. “You did it, BB! I can’t wait to reward you for your heroism.”

  Marey exchanged a muted glance with Crag. Neither seemed to be all that excited. This was the finest place of all? Well, it was a world, anyway. They would make do. “What now?” Marey inquired.

  “I think we’ll settle down on a small farm,” Dia said. “With a married couple, a stallion, a mare, and a chicken.”

  “Settle down?” Bad Buffalo demanded. “I ain’t the settling kind. I’m the meanest, baddest, toughest, shootingest, tootingest, hellraisingest kind.”

  She stepped into him, planting her soft lips against his hard ones and pressing her plush front against his muscular front. “How’s that again, dear? I thought you might like a quiet life with continuous poking.” She moved her hips against his suggestively.

  Continuous poking! She had just overridden any objections he might have. “I—I forget.”

  “What’s this about a chicken?” Crag demanded. “I am no chicken.”

  Dia turned to him between kisses. “When strangers come, you won’t want them to know your true nature. That would be dangerous to them and ultimately to you. There’s a reason basilisks and cockatrices are extinct on Earth. Your presence here must never be known. So you will use your mental power to cloud men’s minds and make them see you as a stupid rooster. That way they will leave you alone, which is what you want, no? Meanwhile you will have plenty of food and a safe roost for the nights, with intellectual company when you want it. What more do you want?”

  “A basilisk.”

  “So you can use the key to travel the tubes and locate a girlfriend, when you’re ready.”

  Crag shut up.

  “I don’t know,” Marey said. “I’ve been away a long time, and Earth seems rather dull now. At least this part of it.”

  “Very little magic here now,” Crag said. “At least, compared to medieval times. But with the worms gone, the magic will gradually build up again, making it more interesting. Patience will be rewarded.”

  Marey nodded, seeing it.

  “We can all use the key,” Dia said. “We can go traveling the wormholes any time, maybe even return to the dragon’s nest for more items. It can be as interesting as we care to make it, as long as none of the Earth natives know. Meanwhile you did mention having a lot of poking to catch up on, Marey. I’m sure Horse will oblige.”

  Horse twitched an ear. He was interested.

  Marey nodded again. “You’re a bit more savvy than I took you for, sprite. Horse is the greatest ever.”

  “Hey, Horse is mine,” Bad Buffalo said. “You can’t take him from me.”

  “Indeed I can’t,” Marey agreed. “A girlfriend is only a girlfriend, a sometimes thing with a horse, but he’s your pal, and friendship is forever. I just want him for stud service.”

  It was a fair answer. But Bad Buffalo had never been known for good judgment. Now he proved it. “Hey, you’re acting as if you prefer him to me. What’s he got that I ain’t got?”

  Dia’s aspect clouded dangerously.

  “Well,” Marey said thoughtfully, “apart from being handsomer, smarter, and much better endowed...”

  Bad Buffalo opened his mouth, but realized in time that he was being teased. He shut up. That was probably his best decision in years.

  The End

  ~~~~~

  Also available from

  Piers Anthony and J.R. Rain:

  Aladdin Relighted

  The Aladdin Trilogy #1

  Amazon Kindle * Amazon UK * Paperback * Audio

  ~~~~~

  Also from Piers Anthony:

  Key to Havoc

  Chromagic Series #1

  Amazon Kindle * Amazon UK * Paperback

  ~~~~~

  Also from J.R. Rain:

  The Deadbeat Detective

  The Dead Detective Series #1

  Amazon Kindle * Amazon UK * Paperback * Audio

  Also available:

  Lavabull

  by J.R. Rain and

  Piers Anthony

  (read on for a sample)

  Chapter 1: Lavender

  Lavender looked at herself in the mirror. She saw a solid girl of 18, with an ample figure and hair so thick it was like a mat. Her eyes were like burning pits, her teeth like faceted stones, her hips like shapely anvils. So why were boys afraid of her?

  Oh, she knew, really. She was hot, literally, especially in her core, and any young man who tried anything funny got burned in a very tender part. When she was a child the boys had tried to beat her up, and she had picked one up and hurled him into the sea. She read the minds of the others and prevented them from playing any nasty tricks on her. After that they had been more cautious, but when years later she grew breasts and hips, matching those of the other girls, they still had not wanted to date her despite her interest in socializing. It was frustrating. She was simply too much girl for the average boy. They preferred the soft, meek, shy, fragile efforts of the human girls. Lavender was something else.

  She paused, remembering the story of her parents. Her father was Jarvis, of human stock, who at age 28 had visited the volcanic island and encountered her ageless mother Lava. Lava was made of molten rock from the local volcano. She could read minds and shape herself into any form she chose. She was lonely and craved companionship and appreciation. So she catered to Jarvis, forming into a nymphly shape, fulfilling his dreams, and he promptly fell in love with her. Men were manageable, when a woman put her mind to it. Now they had been married 19 years and remained happy with each other, maybe in part because Lava remained as lovely as ever and constantly obliged his wishes before he even formed them. She didn’t have to be burning hot, just hot enough to function comfortably for him.

  That left Lavender, who was bored. She had no trouble with school, because anything she needed to know she read in the minds of the teachers and parroted back to them. She knew she wasn’t actually very smart in the human fashion, but she didn’t need to be as long as there was a smart human near. She could have fit in perfectly. She could have rendered herself all soft and cuddly and porous for a boy to handle, and cooled her core enough. So why hadn’t she? This was where she differed from her mother. Lava was entirely shaped by Jarvis’s desires, completely malleable. But Lavender was half human, and she had some human orneriness and ambition. She wanted to be someone in her own right, not just a sop for male interests. She could have faked it, and gotten along fine. But she was at least the equal of any of the local boys, and wanted them to know it. Unfortunately the process of making them recognize it had also eliminated her as an object of romantic interest. She didn’t have to guess at this; she read it in their minds. If she had wanted to become an endlessly obliging housewife like her mother, she had blown it. She wasn’t really sorry.

  And there it was. She was not like Lava. She had too much human orneriness in her. She wanted adventure, recognition, and romance, in that order. With a man who had similar ambitions. Yes, of course his first priority would be sex; that was simply the nature of the beast. She could handle that aspect. But then he should have the desire for adventure and recognition. He also needed to be powerful physically and forceful emotionally, with maybe a volcanic temper. Her grandfather was a volcano; she liked the type. And she wanted him to worship her much the way her father worshiped her mother, without
being any less of a man. Was that such a tall order? It seemed it was, here on the island.

  She turned away from the mirror and put on some clothes. She picked up a magazine her mother had been looking at. And saw him pictured there. The ideal man.

  She promptly read the article. It seemed that this human man named Carl Gray had been a rodeo clown, distracting the bulls when they threw off their would-be riders. Then he had gotten caught by a bull, El Diablo, as a storm approached, and lightning had struck and fused them together. Now he was called The Bull. He had horns and a tail, was big and powerful, and it was said, ornery as hell. But his love life wasn’t much. It seemed the women preferred to have pieces of tail apply to them, not to their boyfriends.

  She knew it instantly: that was her man. But there was a problem: he lived in Rustic City, Arizona, while she lived on a Pacific volcano island. He didn’t know she existed. So she would have to go to him.

  She went to the kitchen where Lava was making a meal for Jarvis. “Mom—”

  “Of course, dear,” Lava said, knowing exactly what was on her mind. “I will persuade your father.” Because he could not read minds and would be slow to understand.

  “You want to go to the faraway mainland?” Jarvis exclaimed. “No way!”

  “Dear,” Lava murmured.

  “But she has no connections there, no experience!”

  Lava kissed him, then took him into the bedroom while Lavender took over the pot stirring. In fifteen minutes they emerged, and Jarvis gave his blessing. Lava’s soft as putty persuasion invariably made him soft as putty too.

  Armed with a change of clothing and a credit card, Lavender caught the next tourist ship and sailed for the mainland. She faked eating, taking very small portions as if dieting. She could eat and drink the human food, but did not need to, and there was no nutritive value in it for her. Not to mention the messy inconvenience of ejecting it from her body later. She did not advertise her nature, which meant that the men aboard saw her as a young pretty woman and promptly got the usual idea. When one corralled her in an isolated nook and angled for a kiss she did what she had to do. “I’m so sorry, but I have a bad skin malady where it doesn’t normally show.” She lifted her skirt to show a burning red rash on her bottom. She then superheated her lips and gave him a searing kiss he would not soon forget. He dashed off, yelping.