Night Mare (23 page)

“I see the problem,” she agreed. “All night mares can phase out and project dreams. Maybe a creature
can
have two talents.”

“Or a magical creature, who phases through objects at night, can have the single talent of sending dreams,” he said. “We can make it fit our present definitions—barely—but the suspicion remains that someday we will discover some form of magic that does not. Consider this Horseman: he’s obviously a man with the ability to ensorcell other men. That’s not remarkable in itself; my father Roland can stun people, and, of course, King Trent transformed them. But how does the Horseman get around so handily without being observed? Does he have a second talent, perhaps similar to yours of the night? We don’t know, but must be prepared for that possibility.”

“Now I understand your doubt,” she said. “Magic is more complicated than I thought.”

“I would like you to review your knowledge of the whereabouts of the Horseman each time a King was enchanted,” Bink continued. “Obviously he was there to do his foul deed, but he has also been associated with the Mundanes when they were far distant. The manner of his travel may give us some hint how to balk him. He must be a man of Xanth, helping the Mundanes for personal advantage. Evidently they made him second in command in exchange for his help, but he does not help them too much. He let you escape them, knowing you were helping Xanth, and that would have the effect of evening the contest and making his service more valuable.”

“The rogue!” Imbri sent emphatically, with the image of the moon colliding violently with the sun and showering Xanth with fragments of burning cheese. “If the Mundanes and Xanthians destroy each other, he can take over himself!”

“Such is the way of rogues,” King Bink agreed. “His power is to banish the minds of people, but it may not be inherent in him. Perhaps he has a bottle full of minds, the same way Good Magician Humfrey has bottles of everything else. Maybe it is the bottle that does the magic, sucking in the Kings. But surely he had to approach his victims to do this. We must not assume we know the precise nature of his magic.”

Imbri concentrated. She had actually met the Horseman only twice—once near Castle Roogna, just before King Trent was taken, and once in Hasbinbad’s camp in northern Xanth. She had not seen him when King Dor was taken, or when the Zombie Master went, though it was obvious in retrospect that he had been the man in the tree.

“So he could have been there with the Mundane army, then,” Bink said. “The Mundanes were not far away, just across the river, while King Dor slept. You did not see the Horseman because he was hiding, skulking around, wailing for his chance.”

Imbri had to agree. In the confused situation of the battlefield, it would have been easy to sneak up close to the King’s tent at night.

“And the next time, the Zombie Master was in the field, too,” King Bink persisted.

Imbri reviewed the scene for him, showing how the Zombie Master had been sleeping, enjoying a dream Imbri had brought him. How Grundy had tracked a man to a river and lost him, after the King had been taken.

“So we know he does not have to touch his victim physically,” Bink concluded. “He can be a short distance away, perhaps out of sight. That’s an important point—no direct visual contact needed. He could have come here to this tree and hidden in a recess; perhaps he was here when you were and simply waited until Magician Humfrey was alone. It could have happened soon after you departed. How many more of Humfrey’s spells have been set out since then?”

This was a most methodical approach! Imbri studied the bottles and boxes, trying to remember how many had been out of the bag before. “Not many more,” she said.

“The Horseman wouldn’t have had reason to travel far in the night,” Bink continued. “Though I doubt he remained here in the tree. For one thing, he did not disturb Humfrey’s spells. Not even the bottle that named him—surely a prime target! He must have been nervous about discovery and not delayed one moment after doing his deed. That suggests he can not enchant someone who is on guard, or perhaps can take only one person at a time, so must catch his victim alone and may be vulnerable for a period thereafter. So he left quickly, lest someone else arrive on the scene. Smash the Ogre’s little wife Tandy is like that; once she stuns someone with a tantrum, she can not do so again for some time.”

Again Imbri had to agree. It made her nervous to think that the dread Horseman lurked close, by. By daylight she could not dematerialize, and that increased her nervousness.

“You surely need to rest and graze, Imbri,” Bink said.

“Go out and relax, but check on me every hour or so. The pseudonymphs aren’t due to bring the Mundanes here until noon. I think the Horseman will try to strike before then, for he surely knows these spells of Humfrey’s are dangerous to his allies, the Mundanes. If I have miscalculated in any way, I’ll need you to carry the message to Castle Roogna.”

Imbri nodded, both reassured and worried. King Bink was several times the man she had first taken him for—but it seemed that the Horseman was similarly more devious. She went out to graze, but the grass didn’t taste very good. She watched for the possible approach of the Horseman, fearing that he would somehow sneak past unobserved, as it seemed he had done before. The Horseman had been making fools of them all so far!

Every hour she checked, but King Bink was all right. Noon came, and all remained well. Imbri was almost disappointed; she certainly wished no ill to the King, but she hated this tension of waiting. Suppose Bink were not invulnerable to the enchantment? Or suppose the Horseman wanted to reduce the force of Mundanes some more, keeping the sides even, so planned to let King Bink fight a while, using the spells, before taking him out? Or had the Horseman already tried and failed, unbeknownst to them? Where did things really stand?

Right on schedule, the first of the floating nymphs arrived, hotly pursued by a slavering Mundane.

Imbri had relayed all she had learned about the Good Magician’s spells. Now Bink picked up one of the unidentified ones. “Stand well clear, Imbri,” he warned. “This spell will not hurt me, but it might hurt you. I’m going to experiment while I’m not hard-pressed. I can still use my sword if a single Mundane comes at me. When too many come, I’ll draw on the heavy stuff.”

Imbri stood back. It seemed to her he was taking a considerable risk—but she realized that he was immune to magical danger and knew it, so could afford to gamble in a way no other person dared. This was safer for him than trying to take on all the Mundanes physically! Perhaps that was another reason Good Magician Humfrey had publicized Bink’s secret talent. Bink was the only one who could safely play with unknown killer-spells, so had to be the one to succeed Humfrey himself and had to use those spells when no friends were close enough to be hurt by them. It was amazing how carefully Humfrey had planned every detail, his own failure included.

The nymph floated up, looking devastatingly winsome by human standards. Imbri had seen the creatures as they were first inflating, dead white and bulging. The night air must have done them good, for now there was color and bounce to match the buoyancy, and intricate little jiggles in private places as they moved. No wonder the Mundane was in sweaty pursuit!

Now the Mundane spied King Bink. “Oh, no, you don’t! She’s mine!” he cried, drawing his sword. “I chased that divine dream half the night and day!”

“In all fairness, I must tell you two things,” Bink said. “First, the nymph is not real. She is a shape from a spell, with no mind at all—”

“I don’t care where she’s from or how smart she is!” the Mundane said, licking his brute lips. “I’m going to give her the time of my life—right after I get rid of you.” He advanced, sword poised.

“Second, I am holding the spell of a Magician,” Bink continued, backing off. “It may hurt you or even kill you, if—”

The Mundane leaped, his sword swinging viciously. Bink popped the cork on the vial, pointing the opening at him.

A green fireball shot out, expanding as it moved. It was head-sized as it struck the Mundane in the chest.

The man screamed. The fire burned into his chest with terrible ferocity, consuming it. In a moment the Mundane fell, his chest mostly missing.

Bink stared, looking faint “Humfrey wasn’t playing idle games,” he whispered. “He was set to destroy the enemy army!”

Imbri agreed. That had been one deadly weapon! “But it was a choice between the enemy or you,” she sent in a supportive dreamlet, glad she had taken the advice to stand well clear. “He tried to kill you when you tried to be reasonable with him.”

“Yes. I have steeled myself to that,” Bink said. “Still, the stomach is weak. I have seldom killed before, and most Mundanes are not like him. They can be quite civilized . . . though I admit this one wasn’t.”

Already a second pseudonymph was coming, leading another brute Mundane. Bink snatched up another vial. “Halt, Mundane!” he cried. “I have slain your companion!”

“Then I’ll slay you!” the Mundane cried. He carried a bow; now he brought out an arrow and nocked it, taking aim.

Bink opened and pointed the vial, as he had the first. Something sailed out of it as the arrow flew toward him. The arrow struck the object and went astray, missing Bink’s head by the span of a hand and plunking into the wall behind him.

Imbri looked at the thing skewered on the shaft of the arrow. It was a bean sandwich. The Mundane had just shot Humfrey’s lunch.

The Mundane stared for a moment. Then he emitted a great bellow of a laugh. “You’re fulla beans!”

Bink took a third vial. As the Mundane drew another arrow and aimed, Bink pointed and opened it.

This time smoke issued from the container. It shaped into a huge face. The face laughed. “Ho ho ho!” it roared. It was laughing gas.

But the Mundane’s sense of humor was limited to laughter at others, not at himself. He shot an arrow through the face at Bink, barely missing. He drew a third. Imbri grew more nervous; these spells were not doing the job reliably.

Bink gave up on the spells for the moment He ducked through the smoke, drawing his sword, and charged at the Mundane.

The Mundane, realizing that his bow was useless at close quarters, hastily drew his own sword. The two met in personal combat—but the Mundane was much younger and faster.

Imbri stepped forward, knowing she could not stand by and let the King be killed. But as the laughing gas dissipated, a third Mundane appeared, carrying a spear. He closed on the other two people, seeking an opening to dispatch the King.

Imbri charged across, spun about, and flung out a kick with her two hind legs. This caught the spearman in the chest and smashed him back. Imbri knew she had either killed the man or hurt him so badly he would not fight again for a long time. She now had blood on her hooves.

She turned again to help Bink, but he had dispatched his opponent. It seemed he knew how to handle a sword; his skill had bested the Mundane speed.

But already three more Mundanes were entering the tree, weapons drawn. Now the Punic army was arriving in force! Pseudonymphs floated all about, dancing just out of the grasp of the men, jiggling remarkably, causing the Punics to become more aggressive than ever.

“I have to return to magic,” King Bink said. “I can’t take on the whole Nextwave with my lone sword!” He glanced at the one Imbri had dispatched. “And I can’t ask you to risk your hide, either. But it’s no longer safe for you to stand away from me; soon there’ll be many more Mundanes. So you had better stay close to me; that way the magic is less likely to backlash against you, and may protect you exactly as it protects me.”

Imbri did not see that the magic had helped the King much. Protection against being harmed by magic was not the same as being protected by magic. But she agreed; she would be better able to help him if she were close. She could carry him out of the tree if the Mundanes became overwhelming.

Bink picked up a package and tore it open. A score of large rubber bands fell out. Now at last he showed some ire. “What good are these?’

Imbri touched one with her hoof. Instantly it climbed up her foot and tightened about her ankle. It hurt; she had to lift her foot to her teeth to rip it off. Then it tried to clasp her nose.

“Oho!” Bink exclaimed. He stooped to pick one up. It writhed in his hand, but could not manage to close on his wrist. He flipped it at the nearest Mundane.

The band slid over the man’s head and constricted about his neck. Suddenly he was choking turning purple in the face.

“A weapon indeed!” Bink said. He flipped two more chokers at the other Mundanes. One looped about a man’s arms, binding him awkwardly, the other caught its man around the waist, squeezing his gut. The bands might be small and harmless when Bink handled them, but were savage when they touched any other flesh!

More Mundanes appeared. Bink tossed the rest of the chokers, then picked up another vial. A knife flew from it, transfixing the Punic. But more was needed, so Bink opened a large, wide-mouthed bottle.

The bottle did not eject anything. Instead it expanded rapidly, until it was big enough to admit a man standing upright. On its side were printed the mystic words CAVE CANEM. Imbri wasn’t sure what that signified, but it seemed vaguely threatening.

“So it’s a cave,” Bink said. “Maybe it will serve. Hey, nymphs—fly in here!” He pointed to the opaque glass cave.

Obligingly, the buoyant nymphs flew inside. The Mundanes who were able charged in after them. Six men disappeared into the cave.

There was a horrendous growling deep inside, and a medley of screams. Imbri, startled, projected in an inquiring dreamlet—and discovered that the minds of the Mundanes had become truly animalistic, like those of vicious dogs.

“The cave of canines,” Bink said. “Remarkable device!”

“Beware of the cave!” Imbri agreed. She didn’t like canines; they tended to nip at equine heels and were difficult to tag with swift kicks.

Before long, the glass cave overflowed. Mundanes spilled back out, doggedly running on four feet, yelping. Their faces looked more canine than human, though Imbri wasn’t sure this was very much of a change. The dogfaces scrambled out of the tree, tails between their legs.