The Oathbound Wizard-Wiz Rhyme-2 (26 page)

"You do have to watch your step," Matt admitted. "He has a knack of taking advantage of human foibles, finds them very fertile ground for humor. Not that he's alone in that, of course."

But Fadecourt was still frowning. "How could such a spirit aid us 'gainst monsters such as these?"

"By having fun with them."

"Fun! With...such as these!?"

"Fun," Matt affirmed. "Get them chasing their tails, or something. Look, it's possible, isn't it?"

"Don't tell him no," Narlh advised Fadecourt. "Anything else he dreams up is likely to be worse."

"There is that," Fadecourt admitted, "and these gargoyles are assuredly far worse than aught else we might bethink us of. Nay, Lord Wizard, call thy sprite."

"Okay. Just a minute, though--I have to try to remember the verse." Matt frowned, running through it silently, then looked up. "Okay. Here goes:

"Unless I mistake his shape and making quite,

He is that merry wanderer of the night

Who might a fat and bean-fed horse beguile

Neighing in likeness of a filly foal.

Or slips he in a gossip's bowl

In likeness of a roasted crab.

Against her withered lips he bobs,

And on her withered dewlap, spills the ale.

The wisest aunt, telling the saddest tale,

Sometimes for three-foot stool mistaketh he.

Then slips he from her bum, down topples she,

And "Tailor!" cries, and falls into a cough.

Then all the choir waxen in their mirth, and laugh,

And sneeze, and swear

A merrier hour was never wasted there.

Let him come near, if he Will aid poor wanderers beset, such as we!" He ended holding out his hands, as though pleading, which was not perhaps the wisest idea--for a glimmer appeared in his palm, progressing to a glitter, then a luster of twinkling that clustered and faded--leaving a miniature human being, leaning back cross-legged in Matt's palm, one ankle propped on the other bended knee, hands behind his head, and a wisp of timothy between his teeth. He wore a sort of furry kilt, a feather in his hair, and nothing more. And he was very small. If it hadn't been for the feather, Matt might have thought he was a nut.

Later on, he was to decide he would have been right.

"Those that Hobgoblin call me, and sweet Puck," the apparition rumbled, in a surprisingly deep voice,

"I do their work, and they shall have good luck.

"And who are ye?"

"Uh--a poor wizard, down on his luck." Matt tried to stop goggling, and failed.

"At whom do you stare, horse-face?"

The other three companions were staring, too, but Puck didn't seem to notice them.

"Uh--sorry." Matt managed to blink and forced a smile. The real, genuine Puck! He felt like asking for an autograph. "Just that you're, uh--amazing."

"Certes. Yet not what you did expect?" The manikin sat up, pulling the wisp out of his mouth and tossing it away. "Why, what did you think I am?"

"Uh--well, a little bigger, actually. At least a foot high."

"A foot? Nay, faugh! What use would such a size be? How then could I capture bees to ride, or steal their honey bags? How should I lie in a cowslip's bell?"

"But...I thought that was Ariel..."

"How foolish can you be? Cowslips come from earth, not air." The little man leaped up, standing with legs spread, arms akimbo. "And, too, you did speak with your friend of 'Hop o' My Thumb'--and if 'tis by that name they know me here,

'tis in that guise I'll appear!"

He was, Matt had to admit, fitting the name. He was about three-quarters of the size of Matt's thumb, and he certainly did look as though he was ready to hop with excess energy. In fact, Matt realized he'd better figure out a way to channel all that mischief fast, or it would be turned against him. "Uh--thanks for coming. We really could use the kind of help you can give."

"I, and only I!" Puck thrust out his chest and strutted. "Nay, I will gladly help you--if you have the wit to use my aid. For look you, you must be careful what you ask for."

"'Cause I might get it, huh?" Matt muttered. "How about if I asked for...No, never mind. We don't have time for that, now."

"There is always time for a jest." Puck smiled, not altogether pleasantly.

"What did you think of?"

"Well, I was just wondering what would happen if I asked you if my thoughts had wings...Help!" His mind had suddenly filled with a picture of flapping wings, all kinds of wings--bee's, bird's, bat's, bounder's...What was a bounder?

"No, no! I was just wondering!"

Puck made a wrapping gesture with his hand, grinning with mischievous delight. "Well done! Oh, well done! You will be a most excellent subject for my jests! Nay, go on! Do ask for more!"

Matt had the uncomfortable feeling that he had just set himself up as the straight man in a permanent, ongoing vaudeville routine. "Well, actually, we called you to help us against some demons."

"Demons?" Puck's smile turned to gloating. "Why, ever do I rejoice in countering those great chunks of evil! Nay, if you can find them for me, unleash me!"

"You have fought demons before?" Yverne asked, wide-eyed. Puck gave her a quick look of appraisal and grinned at what he saw. "For you, fair maid, I would fight devils incarnate!"

"That's exactly what we were hoping for, on a minor scale," Matt interrupted. "You see, we're trying to get a chance to fight an evil sorcerer, but he's trying to make sure we don't get close enough. Last night, he sicced a score or two of gargoyles on us."

"Gargoyles?" Puck looked up, startled. "Why, what had you to fear from stone? It cannot turn to smite you!"

"Eppur si muove, " Matt quoted. "And these ones really did move. They waddled, mind you, not galloped--but they still moved a lot faster than I would have thought they could have. And they had steel teeth, which they were very eager to use."

"Ah, those demons whom your sculptors saw in visions dread and rendered in stone to hang up high above your head! 'Twould be reason enough never to go into a church. But how stood you against them?"

"We were lucky enough to find this shrine to Saint Iago. It's still consecrated, you see, and..."

He didn't finish. With an ear-splitting screech, Puck disappeared. He reappeared a moment later, outside the gateway, mad and hopping. "You fool, you idiot, you blind ass! Have you no better wit than to bring one of the elvin kind into a Christian holy place? Did you wish to see me shrivel in agony?" He leveled a forefinger. "Let us see if your appearance can accord with your..."

Under the circumstances, Matt was very glad the nearest gargoyle chose that moment to explode from the ground in a cloud of dirt.

Puck heard the noise and whirled to see the monster leaping straight for him, claws widespread, steel teeth reaching. The elf disappeared in a flash of light, and as the gargoyle jarred to land, looking about, befuddled and enraged, Puck appeared again at the monster's tail. He grabbed with both hands and pinched.

Matt wouldn't have thought someone so small could pinch so hard. The gargoyle roared and reared up, whipping about to snap up the miniscule being who dared affront it--but the being had hopped backward far enough for another gargoyle to explode from the earth. The first one got there just in time to clamp its jaws down on the second. With a bellow, the second turned to bite at the first and took a chunk of granite out of its flinty hide. But Puck had jumped backward again, triggering a third eruption of gargoyle, then danced toward the first two, who were snapping and clawing at each other like a quarry gone mad. The third leaped, Puck disappeared, and the third slammed teeth-first into the tumble of two--both of whom leaped on the interloper. But a fourth was rumbling out of the ground, to see Puck seated on the third's tail. The fourth snapped up Puck--and took a chunk out of its neighbor. The third whirled to snap out, bringing the first two along.

"Oh, the brave elf!" Yverne cried. "He is lost!" Matt must have gone insane for a second, because he plunged out through the gateway. Fadecourt and Narlh both shouted and dived to catch him, but before he could go more than one step, Puck reappeared on the outside of the snarling, roaring ball, just as it rolled back into the living mine field. Other gargoyles launched themselves from their improvised silos, thundering with blood lust, and Puck disappeared as they plunged into the sphere of disaster. As the ball rolled, more and more gargoyles came out to slay, and wound up trapped in the round of biting and revenging.

Puck appeared on top of Matt's head, dancing and pantomiming punches as he cried, "Slay him, Stoneface! Gouge at him, Granite! Bite at him, Basalt! Aye, hew, gobble, chew, gorge, gnaw, gulp, and bite through!"

"I think they're all in there." Narlh stared in disbelief.

"But," Fadecourt protested, "how can they hurt one another? They are all of stone!"

"Yes," Matt said, "but they all have steel teeth." Puck disappeared from Matt's head, appeared above the churning battle, then reappeared atop Matt, saying, "All gargoyles are indeed within the fray, and they fray one another quite well. Aye, they have chopped and ground several of the smaller into pebbles already!"

Yverne shuddered. "Praise Heaven we were not caught by them!" Puck winced. "Mercy, lady! And pray be mindful who has wrought this coil!"

"The ball's getting smaller," Matt pointed out. "I think they've chewed up the medium-size ones now."

Puck popped over above the whirling mass of stone again, then popped back to Matt's crown. "Only the largest and ugliest remain, and they are chewing into one another at a most excellent rate! Why, one would think they had ne'er been fed in their lives!"

The ball grew smaller and smaller, until finally, they could distinguish separate monsters again--but there were only two, with vastly distended bellies, each chewing on the other's tail, each bite taking up more and more. They roared and shrieked and bellowed with each bite, but one gobbled faster than the other, devouring its hind legs, abdomen, chest, and forelegs, then chewed up its head and spit out the teeth. But it couldn't stop; it kept going, past where its enemies' jaws had been fastened into its own flinty hide, chewing and grinding in a roaring rage, grating its own substance until it expired in gravel, leaving nothing but a set of steel teeth that rolled on the ground, gnashing and snapping.

Puck appeared above it, making shooing motions. Then he reappeared on Matt's head, saying, "Its erstwhile foe's teeth also remain. Shall we see their fond embrace?"

There wasn't much choice; he had started the one set of snapping teeth rolling in the right direction, and it kept on rolling until it bumped into the other set of animated dentures. Then they clashed and slashed and chopped at each other until both were shredded into scrap. Even the bits and pieces still jumped about, slamming into each other.

Puck hopped down to Matt's shoulder, set his arms akimbo, and demanded,

"Now, what did you wish me to do with these monstrosities?"

"Uh..." Matt could only stare at the barren, churned-up ground before him, strewn with bits and fragments of stone that might just possibly have been recognizable as parts of monsters, if he had looked really closely--which he had no intention of doing.

"Well, put them out of their misery, Wizard!" the elf snapped. "Can you not give these bits of iron their quietus?"

Matt snapped out of it. "Yeah, sure!

"Double, double, toil, and trouble!

Furnace heat, make steel scrap bubble!"

It wasn't much, but it served the purpose. The bits of steel turned red, then yellow, then white, and flowed together into a huge, quivering droplet. Matt could feel a blast of heat; then the bubble was melting its way down underground. Matt could have just let it keep going until it hit the molten nickel-iron core of the planet, of course, but he didn't relish the volcano that would result, so he quickly recited an advertising jingle for a deep-freeze company, and the steam stopped rising from the hole. Matt decided he'd wait for a little while, then kick the dirt in.

Puck was giving him an appraising look. "Well done, Wizard! You are no inept apprentice to this craft, I see!"

"Not as good as I should be." Matt swallowed.

"We must not leave the detritus of evil so close by the holy shrine." Fadecourt sounded numb, but he stepped out through the gateway anyway.

"No, wait!" Matt stopped him with a hand on his shoulder. "I don't trust that gravel. Let me see if I can't do this a little more efficiently." Fadecourt stopped, looking up at him in inquiry, but Matt didn't notice. He frowned out at the mass of detritus, thinking over his verses.

"Out of the pebble-strewn days

Let us all seek smoother ways,

May these fragments that once were like sand on a shore

Be gone, and trouble us all

Nevermore!"

The mass of pebbles glimmered, wavered, and was gone.

Matt exhaled a sigh of relief.

"Where have they gone, Lord Wizard?" Yverne asked, eyes wide.

"Back where they came from, I hope--whether it be a rock quarry, or someplace more sinister." Then Matt managed to smile as he turned his head to look at the manikin on his shoulder--out of the corner of his eye was the best he could do--and was glad that it turned into a real smile of relief and gratitude. "Thank you with all my goodwill, Hop o' My Thumb! That, I certainly could not have done without you!"

"It was my pleasure." Puck grinned, eyes glinting with delight. "What game would you have me play next?"

Malt's smile vanished. "Well, uh--now that you mention it, that was the only problem facing us at the moment."

Puck's face clouded. "You dared summon me for only one easily solved chore?" Matt suddenly became aware, all over again, of the spirit's ability to wreak massive havoc simply in the process of having a good time. "Well, uh--yes, actually. You see, it was something we couldn't handle alone, and..."

"And would I have the courtesy to quietly fade from sight, now that you no longer have need of me?" The elf's eyes narrowed. "I think not, Wizard! Know that we faerie-folk always claim what's owed us."