Bearing an Hourglass (26 page)

“A hat?” Excelsia asked, her fair brow furrowing.

The Elf removed his hat from his head. His skull was almost bald, now that it showed. “Balance it on the end of the Sword.” Norton extended the Sword, and the Elf set the hat on the tip.

Norton lifted the hat slowly up beside the palisade, while Excelsia tapped her dainty foot impatiently. “This be sheerest nonsense, sirrah! What think ye a hat can see?”

The palisade points were about eight feet above the ground. Norton elevated the hat beyond that point—and abruptly there was a ferocious squeal, and a spear thrust through the hat and withdrew.

Spear? No, that was the horn of the Alicorn!

Norton brought down the hat, lifted it from the Sword, and gravely handed it back to the Elf. The Elf held it before his little face and sighted through the twin holes in it at the Damsel. No one spoke.

That was one unfriendly equine creature in there!

They retreated a reasonable distance and considered. “Probably the Evil Sorceress abused him,” Norton suggested. “That made the Alicorn mean.”

“Nay, he be merely untame,” Excelsia said, but her voice lacked conviction. That strike had been too swift and sure, too vicious, after such complete silence. The
Alicorn had to have been listening to them, pacing them, biding his time, concealing his awareness until he had the chance to strike. Had he been able to understand their dialogue, he would have known the hat trick was coming, but he was only a cunning animal. Cunning and savage.

“That animal will kill ye, lassie,” the Elf warned her.

“Oh, no, unicorns never harm my kind,” she insisted.

“This be no ordinary unicorn,” he reminded her.

The Damsel acknowledged this logic by bursting into maidenly tears. “Oh, woe!” she cried. “How may I tame the untamable?”

Norton exchanged a glance with the Elf. Obviously they had to come up with something. “Isn’t there supposed to be a magic Word?” Norton asked.

Excelsia brightened instantly. “The Word! We must find the Word!”

The Elf frowned. “If there be a Word, why did not the Evil Sorceress use it to tame the beast?”

“She didn’t know it!” Excelsia said.

“Neither do we.”

“But we shall find it!”

Norton sighed to himself. The Evil Sorceress had had years to search out the Word and had evidently failed. How could they succeed in an hour?

But the Damsel was threatening to cloud up again. “I guess we’ll just have to guess at it,” he said. “We can stand outside the enclosure and shout words until we come to the right one.”

“Why didn’t the Evil Sorceress do that?” the Elf asked.

“She didn’t think of it!” Excelsia said eagerly.

Again Norton was doubtful. The Evil Sorceress had struck him as smart and ruthless. She had surely wanted to ride the Alicorn, otherwise she would not have held him captive. Her power would have been enhanced if she could have used that magical steed. Yet she had failed.

Was there really a magic Word? Or was that only a myth?

He looked at Excelsia and knew he couldn’t tell her there was no Word. So they would have to try it.

They stood in a line and called words at random. “Valor!” the Elf cried bravely. “Beauty!” Excelsia bespoke prettily. “Uncertainty …” Norton muttered doubtfully.

The other two glanced sharply at him, and he was abashed.

They tried another round. “Courage!” the Elf cried. “Modesty,” Excelsia murmured. “Time,” Norton said.

Again the other two glanced askance at him. “Well,” he said awkwardly, “the Word could be anything. Maybe the Sorceress only tried conventional words. How do we know? Maybe ‘time’ was it.”

Indeed, the silence continued inside the enclosure. “We are at risk of taming him without knowing it,” the Elf said. “We must test it.”

“We know how,” Norton said. He borrowed the Elf’s hat again and poked it up above the palisade.

Nothing happened. “Can it be?” Excelsia asked, her eyes glowing and her bosom heaving with hope.

Norton wasn’t sure. “Let’s try something else.” He cast about, and finally removed his shirt and draped it on the blade of the Sword. Then he poked that up, wiggling it to make it seem lifelike.

The horn speared it.

“That infernal creature tried to trick us!” the Elf said indignantly. “He pretended to be tame and then struck.”

“And he was too canny to fall for the same lure twice,” Norton agreed. “We have a real problem here.”

Even the Damsel was sobered by this. “We must get closer to him,” she decided. “So we can see him react to our words.”

It was a good suggestion, but impractical. They could not see the Alicorn without entering this enclosure, and that would be suicidal before they discovered the Word.

“Why does not the beast break down the wall?” the Elf asked irritably. “He plainly has the means.”

Excellent question! If the Alicorn could spear a target above the palisade, he could surely spear the palisade itself.

But Excelsia had the answer. “He be tethered, of course. So he can’t fly out.”

“Then why have an enclosure at all?” the Elf asked. He seemed to have a considerable practical streak.

Excelsia cocked her head and shrugged.

But this time Norton had the answer. “To keep the Dragon out. The Evil Sorceress wouldn’t have wanted those two creatures fighting. With the Alicorn tethered, he would be at a disadvantage against the Dragon and might get eaten. That must be why he doesn’t punch holes in the fence or kick it down. He doesn’t want the fires of the Dragon to come in. Not while he can’t escape. And the Dragon was too stupid to realize
he
could bash or burn down the palisade.”

The Elf nodded. “Then we can take down the wall.”

No sooner realized than done. Norton hacked out a section and stood clear as it fell outward with a resounding crash. Now at last they had a view of the interior.

The Alicorn stood there—and a magnificent creature he was. He stood about seventeen hands at the shoulder, with two enormous white wings rising from that shoulder region and a gleaming black horn at his forehead. The rest of him was a burnished red, not the shade of blood but the hue of fire. He fairly gleamed, and his eyes stared back at them with a disconcerting awareness. Dumb animal? Unlikely!

He was indeed tethered. A silver chain was locked to his right hind leg and anchored to a silver stake. Silver, of course, was resistant to magic; that was why the Alicorn could not break it. The Evil Sorceress had stooped to mundane means to pen him.

“Oh, you Noble Creature!” Excelsia exclaimed, walking toward the Alicorn with arms outstretched. “All my young, pretty, innocent, and genteel life I have longed for the like of you!”

“Don’t do that!” Norton cried, suddenly realizing that the Damsel was mesmerized by the beauty of the beast. But she was already stepping within range.

The Alicorn never hesitated. He lowered his horn and
leaped to the limit of his tether. The terrible horn stabbed right through the Damsel’s body and withdrew so rapidly that the Alicorn seemed hardly to have moved. But now there was blood on the horn, and Excelsia collapsed, her blood pouring out. She had been speared neatly through her maidenly heart.

Norton was frozen for an instant in shock. Then he drew his Sword and charged the Alicorn.

“Don’t do that!” the Elf cried, exactly as Norton had. But he, too, was too late. Norton stepped within range.

The Alicorn charged, the deadly horn leveling. The Sword sliced down. The blade severed the horn at its midpoint.

Blood gouted from the stump of the horn. The creature stiffened, then collapsed beside the woman, mixing his blood with hers.

“You fool!” the Elf cried. “Now ye have two deaths for one—and what be gained?”

Norton gazed at the bodies. For a moment he seemed to see Orlene, collapsed at her piano. What had he gained, indeed! He had been as much a fool as Excelsia had been and had only magnified the damage by his thoughtless violence. This gallant quest of his—he had converted it to disaster. Some fantasy hero he was!

Of course, he realized that he was
not
a fantasy hero. He was Chronos, Master of Time, with a job to do back on Earth. Why had he allowed the Devil to distract him like this? He should never have deluded himself about his position.

Chronos? Of course—there was the answer!

He brought out the Hourglass and turned the sand red. He reversed time for the immediate region and willed the sand to flow up. That left himself out of the change.

The Alicorn trembled, then righted himself, collapsing to his feet. Blood gouted back into his horn. The severed end of the horn flew back into place. A moment later, the Damsel was unpunctured, and walked blithely backward out of the compound. Then the palisade became unhacked. Since Norton had excluded himself from this reversal, he
was both standing apart and participating, backward. So he moved to rejoin his prior self, merging, then stilled the sand and returned to normal time. All was well again.

“Never have I seen the like!” the Elf exclaimed. “You are a Sorcerer!”

Oops—he had forgotten to include the Elf in the reversal. The little man had seen it all and remembered it. Well, it wasn’t as if there was supposed to be any secret. “I’m not a sorcerer; I’m Chronos.”

“What are you talking about?” Excelsia demanded.

“It’s complicated to explain,” Norton said.

“Then don’t bother. Go ahead and hack down the wall.”

The Elf pursed his lips in a soundless whistle. “Damsel, ye know not what ye ask.”

“I want to see that divine steed!” she insisted.

“I don’t think that’s wise,” Norton said.

“But we know he’s tethered!”

“Better explain, Wizard,” the Elf said.

“Wizard?” Excelsia demanded. “Riddles again, belike?”

“I am afraid,” Norton said carefully, “that if I open this wall and let you see the Alicorn, you will be so smitten by him that you will walk right into his horn and perish.”

She opened her mouth for an angry retort, but stalled out before speaking. Evidently this was the type of thing she knew she was prone to do.

“Still, we do need to see this creature,” the Elf said, his practical streak taking hold again, “so we can verify the Word. Maybe if we tie her up—”

“What?” Excelsia screeched undaintily.

“Perhaps if she merely promises not to go near the Alicorn until we’re sure it’s safe,” Norton suggested diplomatically.

Excelsia pouted. “Oh, all right!”

The Elf shook his head bemusedly. “If only ye knew, Damsel!”

“Never mind,” Norton said quickly. “It never happened.”

“
What
never happened?” she demanded.

“I’ll bring down the fence,” Norton said. “Remember, Excelsia, you promised—”

“ ’Tis a mess of foolishness o’er naught,” she grumped.

Nevertheless, he chopped much more carefully at the wall than he had before, so as to open a smaller hole and be on guard against her passage.

The Alicorn stood as before. To the stallion, this
was
before; no awareness of his prior fate remained in his memory. The double disaster had been undone. The beast was still magnificent—but now Norton and the Elf had firsthand evidence as to why the Evil Sorceress had not approached him. Without the Word, approach was death.

What
was
that Word? They had to come up with it—and Norton was sure that no random search would do it. If there was a Word, it had to be well hidden.

Excelsia peeked through the hole and saw the Alicorn. “Ooooo!” she exclaimed melodiously, starting forward.

Norton moved to intercept her, and she stopped. “I was not going in there,” she said somewhat insincerely. “He’s so beautiful. All my young, pretty, innocent life—”

“Let’s try words again,” the Elf suggested. “Do we have any better way?”

“Do we?” Norton echoed. He was not pleased with himself. He had met the Damsel, acquired the Enchanted Sword, slain the Evil Sorceress—approximately—and the Dragon, and now was balked by what should have been the simplest aspect of this adventure: speaking a Word to an animal.

Squeeze.

Could it be? “Sning—you say there is?”

Squeeze.

“You know it?”

Squeeze.

“A way we can learn the Word quickly?” Squeeze.

“Well, let’s get to it!” He looked up at the other two. “Sning can help us find the Word. All I have to do is find the right questions to ask him.”

“That’s one mighty useful snake,” the Elf remarked.

“Even if he weren’t, I would value him,” Norton said. “He was given to me by one I—”

SQUEEZE! SQUEEZE! SQUEEZE!

Norton froze. He trusted Sning’s warning—but what was its nature? Had he been about to say something wrong?

Squeeze.

Oh, yes—he kept forgetting that he did not have to speak his questions aloud.
You object to my speaking of your value to me?
he thought.

Squeeze, squeeze.

Is there some other threat?

Squeeze.

Some new monster approaching?

Squeeze, squeeze.

Norton pondered. The Elf and the Damsel watched him, mutually perplexed. They judged him to be an odd one.
Some error in what I’m saying?

Squeeze, squeeze, squeeze.

This was difficult!
Something all right to think, but not to speak?

Sning hesitated, then gave one squeeze.

What could that be? Norton glanced at the Elf. “I was about to say something wrong, so Sning warned me. But I haven’t figured out what—”

“The Word,” the Elf said wisely.

“The Word!” Norton and Excelsia repeated together, and Sning squeezed affirmatively.

“But why should it be wrong to—?”

“Ah, we have all been fools!” the Elf cried. “Know ye not that the power of a Word adheres to him who speaks it? If you had spoken it—”

Now Norton understood. “Then the Alicorn would be tamed by me—”

“And by no one else,” the Elf agreed. “I knew, but I forgot. A century of mud on my brain may have dulled it. ’Tis folly for us all to be crying out words; only the lass must speak that one to the steed. She be the one who wants him.”

“I had somehow thought the Alicorn would be completely tamed,” Norton said. “So anyone could approach him.”