Jumper Cable (6 page)

In this manner they advanced slowly toward the regular enchanted path, while Fracto raged all around them. Not one jag of lightning struck them, not one wash of water soaked them, not one fierce gust of wind blew them away. It was a great way to travel through an otherwise treacherous region.

In due course they made it to the regular enchanted path. Fracto, defeated, blew off elsewhere.

“Thank you, Olive,” Jumper said. “Your friend Jestin really came through.”

“My friends generally do,” she agreed, flattered. They resumed their interrupted trek along the path. At noon they paused to eat from the pack Crater had packed. Jumper reached back a foreleg and swung it down to the ground.

It turned out to be far more bountiful than they had anticipated. It was a veritable feast, with something for each of them, ranging from a really juicy bug for Jumper to a really gory leg of bovine for Maeve. There was also a big jug of rhed whine.

They tried a sip, then a cup, then several cups, and finally finished the jug, though they had not meant to. This led to some things that seemed odd only in retrospect. Jumper and Haughty did an impromptu dance, with him jumping high in the air and her plummeting almost to the ground to zoom under him as they whirled crazily around. Wenda, Maeve, Phanta, and Olive threw off their clothing and danced in a circle around them, jiggling ferociously front and rear. Wenda was of course fine from the front, but from behind her hollowness was completely

exposed. The others took turns “trying her on,” stepping into her from behind so that it looked as though she were full-fleshed. Then they were too tipsy to stand, let alone walk, and had to make camp right there on the path, in the middle of the day. They weren’t even up to doing that properly. Instead they collapsed into a pile, with Jumper on the bottom and Haughty on the top, the others draped somewhere in between. What a meal!

Late in the afternoon they recovered, one by one. Jumper was the first, he thought maybe because being the largest, he had taken a smaller portion of rhed whine relative to his size than the others had. Even so, he felt as if he had eaten a rotten zombie fly.

Maeve was next. “That whine’s not the same as what our home pool has,” she said, making a wry face. “More impurities. But the wildness—

it was good to experience that again.”

“We’re just lucky no human males were present,” Wenda said, extricating herself from the pile. The others shared a shudder as they got to their feet, and searched out their scattered clothing from the surrounding bushes and tree limbs.

“We’d have been ruined,” Phanta agreed.

This perplexed Jumper. “All we did was have some fun dancing. What is wrong with that?”

A female glance circled one and a quarter times. It landed on Olive Hue. “When men see bare girls, especially inebriated ones, they get all excited and grow about four extra hands, and that’s not all. It quickly gets complicated, and the girls are lucky if the storks don’t take out after them.”

“The stork!” Maeve exclaimed, hastily diving into her clothing, doing her hair, and putting in her wax teeth, seemingly all in one motion. Phanta squeezed her head between her hands as if it hurt. “Let’s not have such a party again. The hangover’s awful.”

“What is hanging over?” Jumper asked, not seeing anything.

“Never mind,” Wenda said. “It’s knot relevant, and anyway, we finished the jug.”

“It means we have headaches, and our mouths taste like dragon p**p,” Haughty explained.

“Pulp,” Maeve murmured. “Not the best tasting part of a dragon.”

Jumper didn’t see how that related to hanging over, but let it pass. There were just too many human nuances for him to keep up with. In due course they resumed walking along the path, and by nightfall they were close to the Good Magician’s Castle. But by mutual consent they decided to spend one more night on the road, in part to get the taste of dragon pulp out of their mouths.

They washed in the safe pool, foraged in the enchanted campground, and had a nice meal without whine. “Now all we need is some eye scream for dessert,” Haughty said. “But we don’t have the eyes.”

“Or the scream,” Maeve said.

“I have a friend who makes ice,” Olive said.

“There are cream puffs growing by the pond,” Phanta said. “I’ll harvest some.” She went off to do that. Olive’s imaginary friend appeared, a somewhat cold-looking woman. In fact, her hair seemed to be formed of icicles. “Hail Mary,” Olive called. “We’re making eye scream. May we have some of your hail?”

Mary gestured, her hair flared, and a small pile of hailstones dropped among them. “Eat, drink, and be Mary,” she said as she faded. They gathered up the hailstones before they melted and put them in a pot. Phanta returned with the cream puffs, and they carefully opened each and poured its cream into the pot. Then they stirred it up until it screamed. Sure enough, it had formed a single eye. It was ready. It turned out to be great eye scream, and it didn’t make them run around bare or get mouths tasting of dragon pulp. Then they settled in the shelter for the night. “You know,” Maeve said, “I’m not much for civilized socializing. I am doing it only because I have to hide from that bleeping bird. Otherwise I would be running wild on Mount Parnassus and tearing flesh from anyone I caught. But I find I am enjoying the company of you folk. Don’t you dare tell the other maenads that.”

“I feel much the same,” Haughty said. “Normally I peer down my nose at ground-bound j**ks, but you can be good company.”

“Jacks,” Maeve murmured. “They are used to lift heavy things up.”

“You’re all okay,” Phanta said. “But my favorite is Jumper, because he saved me from Gheorge last night.”

“He did?” Wenda asked. “I did knot know about this.”

“Yew wood knot,” Phanta said with a smile. “Yew were asleep, woodwife. Gheorge blew out my candle and hauled me away, but Jumper lassoed a star and saved me.”

Phanta and the others gazed at Jumper with all ten of their eyes. That made him uncomfortable, as he had only eight eyes. “I was just trying to help.”

“We do like each other,” Olive said. “It’s too bad we’ll have to separate and go our own ways tomorrow.”

“Maybee we can meet again, some day,” Wenda said. “I wood knot want to miss that.”

“We are becoming friends. But I am going back to my own realm,”

Jumper said. “I can’t just go back and forth. That’s why I need the Good Magician’s help.”

“Can a ghost reach your realm?” Phanta asked.

“Maybe. Mainly, it’s much smaller than this one. In fact, maybe it’s the same realm, only on a different scale.”

“Maybe we’ll find a way,” Haughty said.

At that point night fell with an inaudible clank, and there was Hottie Harpie. “And I could give you such a good time, if only you had bird or man parts.”

Jumper tried to blush, but didn’t succeed, because he was a spider and anyway had no idea what she was talking about. The others laughed; they did know, and found it funny. Or something.

In the morning they approached the Good Magician’s Castle. It was a solid edifice with a broad moat, high walls, and not much else. A path led down to the drawbridge, which was invitingly down. A number of exotic plants grew beside the path, and Wenda identified some as they went.

“Cottonwood,” she said, indicating a small tree covered with white puffs. “One of the most useful trees in the forest. In the spring yew can harvest cotton balls from it; in the summer, cotton candy. In the fall, cotton socks. And in winter yew can burn the wood and get cute little puffs of white smoke.”

Beside the tree grew tall reeds. “Fen-fen, from the Ogre-fen-Ogre fen. The ogres eat it to lose weight, but now they find it is causing heart attacks. Not even ogres much like getting pelted by flying hearts. Apparently they are guardians of the fen.”

Sitting on a branch of the tree was an oddly shaped collection of fruit. Olive tried to touch it, but it suddenly spread wings and flew away.

“That’s a fruit bat,” Wenda explained. “It was afraid yew’d eat it.”

“I did have something of the sort in mind,” Olive confessed, embarrassed.

“Getting in is supposed to be a challenge?” Maeve asked. “This looks easy. Nothing but harmless plants.”

“Don’t you believe it, maenad,” Olive said. “I have heard about this castle. The Good Magician is a recluse who hates to have his time wasted by folk demanding favors, so he makes it hard for them to get in, and then he demands a year’s ser vice or the equivalent in exchange for an Answer few can figure out anyway. So it really isn’t worth it, unless you’re desperate.”

“I am desperate,” Maeve said. “If that stork catches me, I’ll be, as Haughty would put it, sc****d.”

“No, that’s backwards,” Phanta said. “The stork comes after the sc***ing.”

“Scraping?” Wenda asked, stifling half a smile.

“Scalping,” Haughty said, suppressing a chortle.

“Scheming,” Olive said.

They looked at Jumper. “Scalding?” he asked.

They all laughed. “Just keep that bleeping bird away from me,”

Maeve said. “Anyway, I’m game. I’ll go on in, and the rest of you can take your turns after you see how it goes.”

Olive shrugged. “Try it your way.”

Maeve set forth. The others followed, with Wenda continuing to admire the special plants. She seemed to know them all. Jumper realized that the rest of them weren’t actually trying to follow; they were standing in place. But somehow they remained close to the maenad. Indeed, this garden wasn’t quite as innocent as it appeared.

“Weird,” Haughty said. She spread her wings and tried to fly back, but nothing happened. “What the h**l!”

“Haul, I think,” Wenda said. They missed Maeve’s translation.

“We’re being hauled along after her.”

“Another detail,” Olive said. “Querents

can’t use their talents.

Haughty can’t fly, and it seems Maeve can’t separate from us. We must be slated to tackle the challenges as a group, though I haven’t heard of that before.”

“So the first challenge is already upon us,” Jumper said. “And we are learning the rules.”

“Maybe you are,” Maeve called back. “I’m not good at rules.” She plowed determinedly on, and they paced her, involuntarily.

“There’s a soul food plant,” Wenda said. “That’s a rare one. Normally it grows only near the Black Wave Village, where they guard it carefully.”

“That one?” Phanta asked, reaching for a brown horn.

“Dew knot touch that!” Wenda cried, alarmed. “No, the soul food is the other side of the path.”

A goblin stepped out onto the path ahead of Maeve. He was bigheaded, big-footed, knobby between, and ugly, as all goblin men were.

“Well now, sweet maiden,” he said. “So nice of you to visit.”

“Beware,” Olive murmured. “Goblin males are never polite. It has to be sarcasm.”

“What the bleep do you want, knobhead?” Maeve demanded politely. The goblin laughed nastily. “Take off your clothing and I’ll show you, cutie.”

Maeve considered. “If I do, will you get out of my way?” Obviously she was trying to handle this peacefully, though it plainly went against her nature.

“Har har har!” he laughed. “Maybe after I’m done with you, you luscious little piece.”

“Uh-oh,” Olive murmured. “She’s getting annoyed.”

“That is not good enough,” Maeve said, small sparks glinting in her eyes. “You have to promise.”

“Har har har! Enough flirtation, you hot little package. Get ’em off now or I’ll rip ’em off. I’d like that.”

“That does it,” Maeve snapped. She quickly stepped out of her clothing, unbound her wild hair, threw off her gloves, and spat out her wax teeth. Then she leaped at the goblin, her pointed teeth snapping, her uncovered claws raking.

And suddenly a whole clot of goblins appeared. It was a trap. Maeve took a bite out of the first goblin, and he screamed in pain. But the others laid hands on her arms, legs, and torso. They jammed a sponge into her mouth so she couldn’t bite and held her spread-eagled.

“So we’ve got us a maenad,” their leader said zestfully. “Oh, won’t this be fun!”

“They’re going to sc**w her!” Haughty exclaimed. “We have to do something.”

Jumper realized he might be about to find out what the word really meant, but this wasn’t the way he wanted to learn it. He started forward, about to tackle the goblins.

“Wait!” Wenda stooped beside the path and picked something up. It looked like a discarded animal horn. In fact it was the plant she had warned Phanta against touching. She hurled it forward. It arced onto and into the crowded goblins, landed on the ground, and broke open. Brown mist puffed out.

“Hold yewr noses,” Wenda said. “Dew knot breathe if yew can help it.”

“What are you talking about?” Phanta demanded. Then she caught a whiff. “Oh, no!” She grabbed her nose.

“Gas attack,” Olive said, grabbing her own nose. Then Jumper smelled it: the foulest imaginable stench. It reeked of rotten excrement mixed with spoiled vomit, shaken, not stirred, plus less attractive substances. And he was only at the edge of the expanding cloud.

The goblins were at the center. Already they were turning ghastly green as they tried desperately to scramble out of range, but they had been coated with the vapor. They were doomed.

“Stink horn,” Wenda said with satisfaction. “A forest plant. I can knot think why it is knot more pop u lar.”

She glanced at the others. “Hold yewr breaths and hurry through before it dissipates and the goblins return.”

They needed no second warning, as the gut-wrenching stench was thickening. They gulped foul air and ran forward. Jumper spied Maeve gasping helplessly on the ground. He picked her upper section up with two legs and ran with the other six, dragging her feet along. When he had her well clear of the stench, he set her down and turned to go back for her clothes. But the vile brown cloud rose up menacingly, oozing feculence, and he reconsidered.

“Don’t bother,” Maeve gasped. “I wouldn’t want those clothes anyway.”

Then they saw another figure coming down the path. It was a cloaked person . . . no, a tall bird . . . no, it was the stork! It was coming after Maeve, having spotted her in her natural state. It carried a bundle. Then it got into the cloud, and abruptly it was coughing and turning green. The bundle did the same. The bird retreated, looking as if it was about to be very sick.