Isle Of View

Xanth 13 - Isle of View

Chex was desperate. Her darling foal, Che, was lost, and she feared the worst. He was only five years old, and though he had her lightening magic, his wings were not yet developed enough for flight. So he contented himself with extraordinary leaps, and was a happy little centaur— now inexplicably gone.

How could it have happened? She had been inside their cottage stall, using rushes to close the crevices that let the draft in. They were near the region of the Element of Air, and often there was some leakage of wind from it. That was fine on hot days, but chill at night. So she used the rushes, but she had to work quickly and pay close attention, because they were always in such a hurry. They would wedge into any place, not waiting for the right one. So she had concentrated and gotten the job done and somehow hadn't checked on Che for a while.

Now he was nowhere to be found. She had called to him and flown all around the glade, searching with increasing alarm. There was no doubt: he was not here.

Cheiron was away at a winged monster convention and wouldn't be home for another two days. She was almost relieved; how could she face her mate with the news that she had lost their foal? Of course she couldn't do that; she simply had to find Che soon.

She circled the region several times, peering down intently, but all she saw was forest around the glade. She had liked this region because it was private with the trees hiding most of what went on, but now they were hiding her foal from her. She had to get under the canopy of foliage.

She glided down and landed near the cottage. Then she trotted in a complete circle around the glade, looking for signs. The ground was pretty well scuffed in the center where Che had been prancing, but the grass remained green at the fringe. He must have wandered out into the forest, though he knew he was supposed to stay in view of the cottage.

She made another circuit, this time walking at the verge of the trees. Suddenly she spied a little hoofprint. She saw that it was headed out into the forest. He had come this way!

But why? Che knew the rule and had always been a good little centaur. He knew that there were dangers out in the deep forest of Xanth, such as dragons and tangle trees and hypnogourds. He shouldn't have walked out this way.

Yet evidently he had. She searched out the prints. They seemed hesitant at first, as if he had been looking for something. Then they became purposeful and moved straight toward the thickest section of the forest.

Chex followed, her alarm increasing. She had hoped that Che had merely wandered and was somewhere close by, perhaps caught in a bramble and unable to extricate himself. But now she feared something worse: he had gone somewhere, and that could only be because something had lured him. There was unlikely to be any good purpose in that.

In a moment her worst suspicion was confirmed: there were signs of an ambush. Something had been lurking here, waiting for Che, and had captured him. There was a bit of cut vine, evidently used to tie up the foal, and the ground was scuffed. But something had gone over the ground with a brush from a nearby brush bush and wiped out all the tracks. She couldn't tell who or what had kidnapped her foal. All she knew was that it had been accomplished quickly and silently.

She searched all around, but there were no tracks of any kind leading from the ambush area. Yet this was not a spot for flying by any creature large enough to carry a little centaur; the vines were tangled in with the foliage of the trees, with several hangman's nooses just waiting for some unwary dragon or griffin to make their day. It was as if kidnapper and foal had vanished at this spot.

Chex shuddered. That meant magic! Che must have been conjured to some other part of Xanth.

But why? She could understand a predator crunching its prey, awful as that concept was in this case. But to lure Che into a trap and conjure him away? What use could anyone have for a winged centaur foal who couldn't yet fly?

At least it meant he was alive. She had suppressed her fear of the worst, because it was unbearable. But how long would he remain alive? Maybe his captor didn't realize that he couldn't fly, and when it found out—

She had to get help. Che had to be found before anything worse happened to him.

She trotted back to the glade, then spread her wings, flicked herself hard with her tail, and took off. She could make anything light by flicking it with her tail. That was how she got rid of biting flies; the moment her tail touched them, they became too light to remain sitting and were launched into the air, where they had to buzz for some time to get things under control again. When she wanted to make herself light enough to fly, she used her tail on her body, and then it was easy for her wings to carry the reduced weight. When the effect faded and she began to get heavy, she just flicked herself again. But she tried not to do that near the end of a flight, because it could be hard to stay on the ground if a gust of wind came along.

She flew high above the forest and turned south. Soon she was passing over the great Gap Chasm, where Princess Ivy's friend Stanley Steamer had gone for patrol duty. She knew the kidnapper wouldn't have taken Che in there, because Stanley knew Che and would have steamed anyone who tried to harm him. But where had Che been taken? That was the awful mystery.

She continued south, heading for Castle Roogna. That was where King Dor was, and if anyone could help, he could. He was able to talk to inanimate things, so nothing was secret from him.

She spied the castle, with its pretty stonework and turrets, and glided down for a landing in the orchard. There was a young woman there gathering fruit, and Chex knew who that would be.

“Chex!” the girl called, waving violently. She had freckles and light brown hair in two braids and seemed younger than she was, because she acted younger. She looked fifteen.

“Electra!” Chex responded as her feet touched the turf. Then she braced herself.

Sure enough, Electra came charging in for a hug. She collided with Chex, her impact shoving the light centaur back. It was awkward, but exuberance was Electra's second nature, maybe even her first nature. She was Prince Dolph's Betrothee, and a wonderful girl.

“But where's Che?” Electra asked, her freckled face concerned.

For an instant Chex had almost forgotten her misery. Now it returned with force. “He's gone!” she said. “Something kidnapped him! I must get help to find him, before—” Here she found herself unable to continue.

“That's terrible!” Electra exclaimed. “You must tell the King!”

As if that wasn't the reason Chex had come here! “Yes, I must,” Chex said.

They walked on up to the castle. “Oh, I forgot!” Electra exclaimed, her braids flinging about her head as she turned to face Chex. “King Dor's away!”

“Away?” Chex asked, alarmed. “Where?”

“Ceremonial call on King Nabob of the Naga.”

“Oh? What's the ceremony?”

“Well, they are allies, and maybe soon there'll be reason for getting together. Nada, you know.”

Suddenly Chex appreciated the girl's diffidence. Nada Naga was Prince Dolph's other Betrothee, and in her human form a truly lovely young lady. It had been a political liaison, but everyone knew that Dolph preferred the Princess Nada to Electra. The time was approaching when Dolph would have to make his choice between the two, and it did not look good for Electra. She was a wonderful girl, but Nada was a beautiful princess.

Unfortunately, Electra was under an enchantment. Not only did she love Dolph, who had rescued her from a very long sleep, she would die if she didn't marry him. No one wanted that! There was a further irony: Nada did not love Dolph. She was five years older than he and regarded him as a juvenile. But she had given her word, and intended to carry through, in the manner required of a princess. It was obvious to everyone that Dolph could make both girls happy by marrying Electra—but that would not make Dolph happy, and he was not adult enough to do what he didn't like. It was a difficult situation.

However, Chex had a pressing problem of her own at the moment. “Then Queen Irene—”

“She went with him. She wanted to meet King Nabob and Nada's handsome big brother, Naldo.”

“Then Princess Ivy—”

“She's off with Grey Murphy at the Good Magician's Castle.”

“There must be somebody in charge!” Chex exclaimed, exasperated.

“Oh, sure. Magician Murphy.”

“Then I'd better see him.” Chex wasn't quite satisfied with this as she had never completely trusted Murphy, but she couldn't wait for one of the others to return to the palace.

Magician Murphy was a graying but otherwise ordinary older man. “Yes, I can help you, Centaur,” he said. “First, I will organize a search for your missing foal. Second, I will set my curse on the party responsible for the abduction, so that that effort will foul up in devious ways. That should provide additional time for the searchers to complete their mission.”

This was more than Chex had expected of this man. But she reminded herself that on occasion evil magicians did become good ones. King Emeritus Trent was the most notable example. Murphy had sworn to uphold the current order, and if King Dor trusted him, she could do no less. “Thank you, Magician,” she said.

Murphy spoke to a magic mirror. “Now hear this,” he said. “This is King pro-tern Murphy speaking. Chex Centaur's foal has been abducted by a party unknown, and must be found and rescued ASAP. All personnel not otherwise occupied get your butts to the castle pronto for organization into search parties. That is all.”

Chex listened with a certain surprise. Evidently Murphy had picked up some Mundanish terms during his exile. However, his general meaning came through.

They walked to the front of the castle. From every direction folk were coming: shoe tree farmers, milkweed maids, P and Q nut growers, and even a young ogre who was evidently tired of twisting trees into pretzels. Some were coming from the castle, too: Prince Dolph, Nada Naga, Grundy Golem, and a ghost or two. There was even a puff of steam from the direction of the Gap Chasm: Stanley Steamer was coming in. It seemed that everyone wanted to help.

“Very well,” Murphy said when a suitable group had assembled. “We have no idea where Che may have been taken, but we have reason to believe that nothing bad will happen to him for a while. Our best course is to cover as much of Xanth as we can in the next few hours. Because it is not safe for folk to go alone into the jungle—” He paused, for the ogre was looking perplexed. “Ogre's excepted of course,” he said, and the ogre's confusion eased. “Most parties will consist of two or more folk, at least one of whom should be able to defend them until help can come. Here are magic whistles from the castle armory; these can be heard far and wide, so each person will carry one and use it if threatened.”

He passed out the whistles. The ogre, being typically stupid, blew his immediately. But there was no sound.

Startled, the ogre looked up. “Me blow, hear no.”

“That's because you aren't far or wide yet,” Murphy explained. “We are all standing close and narrow, which is out of range. Try it from far.”

The ogre charged to the horizon, knocking down a stray tree accidentally. He blew again. This time the sound was piercing.

Soon the parties were organized and heading out in every direction. “Grundy will go with you, Chex,” Murphy said. “You can act as liaison between the search parties, so that you will be the first to know if your foal is found. Grundy will help you by questioning any plants or creatures as needed. First I think you should question the plants in the vicinity of the abduction; they must have seen something.”

“Yes!” Chex said, feeling foolish because she hadn't thought of that herself. Murphy was doing a great job!

Grundy scrambled up on her back. He was a tiny man, easy to carry even without lightening. He had been a real golem originally, made of rag and string and wood, but now he was a real man, though still the original size. One other thing had not changed: he still had a big mouth and made enemies with an ease that left others awestruck. Chex flicked herself, spread her wings, and took off. She was glad to have such an efficient search proceeding; if anything could find Che, this would.

“Where's Rapunzel?” she inquired as they flew north. For Grundy had finally found in her a woman to his taste— or maybe it was the other way around. Rapunzel could assume any size she wished, being descended from both human and elven stock, but preferred small. She was a lovely lady, with—oh, yes—magically long hair. Chex didn't envy her the chore of brushing it! Normally Grundy and Rapunzel were together.

“She's seeing about a new house,” he said.

“Oh? I thought you were satisfied with that birdhouse you converted.”

.

“I am. But she says it's too small.”

“Too small? But you haven't changed, and she can be any size she wants.”

Grundy shrugged. “I don't understand women. Do you?”

Chex laughed. “No!” But then she got a faint notion, and began to understand. The two of them might remain small, but if the family changed sizes ...

She glided down to the glade. It had been her home for several years, because she hadn't wanted to risk having Che fall off the edge of a mountain before he was able to fly. Now it seemed alien, because it had turned out to be unsafe in another way. Whoever or whatever had kidnapped her foal—would it have been possible had Che lived in a mountain retreat? Just how smart had she been to avoid the mountain?

She trotted into the forest where Che had been lost. “Here,” she said, coming to a halt at the place.

Grundy talked to the plants in the vicinity. Chex heard only a faint rustling, but in a moment he had his report. “There was an awful smell, as of pastry baking, and—”

“That's not awful!” she protested. “Che loved fresh pastry!”

“What's it made from?” the golem asked.

“Why, fresh flour from sea oats, and— oh.” For of course plants like oats would not like the smell of their brethren being baked. Breadfruit trees and pie trees did not mind giving up their wares, but when grains were stripped from the plants it was another matter. “An awful smell,” she agreed.