Pet Peeve (24 page)

“Thank you, Magician.” Metria enveloped Goody and kissed him on the back of the neck as she took him back to the dragon sector. He had to tolerate her teasing, and refused to give her the satisfaction of reacting.

Vortex was there. “He has a plan?”

“A contingent of zombies is shuffling this way. They should arrive in two hours to relieve you. Can you hold out until then?”

“Zombies? We dragons don't especially like them.”

“They are people too,” Goody said, echoing Breanna. “But you don't have to touch them. Just stand back and let them tackle the robots. Every robot they take out is a robot you don't have to. They should make good allies.”

“We can hold out,” Vortex said. “They should be messy but effective.”

They moved on to the ogre sector. The ogres were having a great time bashing robots into flying parts, but again it was evident there were too few of them. Only the vanguard of machines had arrived; when the main party came, it would be impossible for just twenty ogres to bash them all.

Goody sought out Smithereen, who was in action beside the Singing Tower, which was singing a battle song. “There will be too many robots,” he said. “Some will get by.”

The ogre nodded as he bashed another robot into scrap metal. “Me see, Good-ee.”

“Maybe if you make barricades,” Hannah said. “So they can't sneak by you.”

“Show me, Good-ee.”

“Heave some boulders into a wall high enough to stop them, then guard that wall.”

“No fear,” Smithereen agreed. “Guard here.” He stomped off to tell the other ogres.

“We weren't supposed to get into the action,” Hannah said as a robot came toward her.

“I don't think we have much choice at the moment.”

“My sentiments exactly.” She drew her sword and zestfully cleaved the robot in half.

“Metria, Dara,” Goody said as he grabbed a stick and ran to intercept another robot. “Pop off and tell Magician Trent. Barricades may not be enough.”

There were two pops as they went.

Goody reached the robot. He swung his stick, clouting it on the dome. “Take that, iron pants!” his voice said. It fell over, its arms and legs flailing the air. Then it righted itself. He swung again, but this time it caught his makeshift club and jerked it out of his grasp. It grabbed him. Apparently Goody's bounce talent didn't stop a grab. “Hey, watch who you're handling, oil brain!”

Then its head flew off as Hannah's sword scored. The remainder of the robot fell to the ground, unable to function. “You're not cut out to be a warrior,” Hannah said.

“I'm afraid you're right,” he agreed ruefully.

“Why don't you retreat to the Singing Tower while I hold the fort here? That way I can do the job without worrying about your delicate hide.”

“Agreed.” He ran for the tower.

But a robot was also approaching it. Goody beat it to the small door set low in its square base, braced himself, and lifted a foot to shove it back. Then he entered and slammed the door shut, and bolted it.

He turned to survey the gloomy interior. A circular stair led to the upper sections. He ran up this—and encountered a robot coming down. Oh, no—they were already inside!

They collided. The robot grabbed him. Its metal arms were stronger than his arms; he couldn't break free. But he could shove it around, preventing it from doing him any harm at the moment. They were at an impasse, here in the confinement of the stairwell. But soon enough the robot would be able to manhandle him into mischief, either banging him into the wall or throwing him down the stairs.

“We're in trouble, gob,” the peeve murmured. “Another fine mess you've gotten us into.”

Then Goody remembered the bag of spells. He wrestled one arm around until he could poke a finger into it. Were any left? He hooked it, hauling something out. Whatever spell it was, it would have to do.

Something changed. His chest throbbed, somehow shifting in some fashion. What was happening?

“Four arms!” the parody exclaimed.

That was it. He had sprouted two more arms below his natural ones. They seemed to be just as sturdy as the originals. He lifted them, looking at his two new forearms—fourarms—and hands.

“Surprise, iron sides!” his voice said.

Then he put those two free hands on the robot's head and twisted. The face-plate showed no surprise, but the voice said, “Ungh?”

Goody twisted harder. The robot let go of Goody's original arms to grab the new ones. Then Goody used his natural hands to grab the head again, twisting it another notch. The robot took a new grip, but whatever it did, Goody had two arms free, and kept twisting its head. He twisted it all the way around until the face-plate faced him again, then farther yet, until it snapped with a “sproing” and came off in his hands.

The robot collapsed, letting go of him. He squeezed to the side and let it tumble down the stairs. Then he went on up. He wanted to reach a window so he could look out and see how Hannah was doing.

He reached the next level. There was more light, from a stained glassy window. He stepped toward it.

There was a pop, and a goblin-sized figure appeared before him. He grabbed it before it could grab him, and squeezed. And paused, surprised.

“Hey, gob chief,” his voice said.

“Hello, peeve,” a dulcet voice replied.

“Gwenny!” He was so surprised and pleased that he hugged her with all four arms. Two hands spread out against her back; two against her bottom. All four squeezed.

“What a grope, groupie!”

“Well, now,” she said. “I could swear you had four hands!”

“I do,” he said, guiltily removing the lower two. Meanwhile the tower was singing a romantic ballad.

“Dara said you were in trouble, so I had her bring me.”

“I was in trouble. I invoked a four spell.”

“So you could grope me?”

“I was teasing,” she said, and kissed him. “Use your four hands again.”

“But the ogres need help. They—”

“The demons are helping them make barricades, per your suggestion. Now, if you're quite done with my posterior, I have troops to direct.”

“I—of course.”

She kissed him again. Then the demoness's smoke surrounded her, and she vanished.

“What a darling doll,” the parody said.

“What, no parting insult for her?”

“I'm trying,” the bird said crossly. “It's hard to find anything wrong with her.”

Goody knew how that was. He went to the window and looked out. Stone walls were forming. Ogres were tramping along beside them, bashing any robots trying to get over. The situation seemed to have improved.

He went back down the stairs, passed the metal body, opened the door, and stepped out. There was another robot. He grabbed it with two hands on each of its arms, and swung it into a tree. He swung it again, bashing its head into the trunk. He swung it a third time—and his two extra arms shrank back into his body. The spell had expired.

Well, it had been fun while it lasted, in more than one sense. He grabbed the confused robot by the head before it could realize it was no longer overmatched, and twisted.

Hannah appeared. “Maybe I spoke too soon about your not being a warrior.”

“No, you were right. I had four arms, for a while. Now I'm back to anemic normal.”

“Fourwarned is fourarmed,” she agreed. “The ogres have things under control now. Our demons are back. Time for us to check the next sector.”

“Good enough.”

Metria formed her cloud around him. “What's this I hear about four arms and Gwenny?” her voice murmured in his ear. “Did you do this to her?” Two arms seemed to press against his back. “And this?” Two more squeezed his rear.

“Something like that,” he agreed.

“He gave her the groping of her life,” the peeve reported helpfully.

“What about this?”

“OoOoOo!”

“Not yet,” the bird said.

They arrived at the goblin sector. “I heard something,” Hannah said. “Were you in pain?”

“Not exactly.”

“The demoness gave him the goosing of his life,” the parody reported.

“Oh? Did he deserve it?”

“Pretty much, tomato tush.”

“Now if we can get back to business,” Goody said with a slight edge.

“Of course.” The demons caught them up and carried them to the final front.

They were on a hill. They gazed down on the battle below. There were several distinguishable goblin hordes engaging a massive robot incursion from the north. The goblins were chopping, bashing, and twisting, but they were taking losses too. It was impossible to tell which side had the advantage.

“I don't like this,” Goody said.

“Why not?” Hannah asked. “It looks like a great battle all around.”

“That's what I don't like. Our forces have been holding back the enemy everywhere, but reserves have had to be used, and still more robots are coming, and they are indefatigable.”

“They are what?” Metria asked.

“Tireless,” Hannah said quickly. “I see your point: our troops will tire, and their number is limited. By the end of the day they'll be giving out. Then we'll lose.”

“We have a traitorous defeatist in our midst,” the parody said. “I'd be ashamed, if I had any shame.”

Goody sighed. “I had hoped you would refute me, Hannah.”

She patted his head. “You have a sensible mind. You'll make a good chief consort.”

“A what? Oh—you mean if Gwenny marries me.”

“Not if, when. She's decided.”

“She hasn't told me that.”

“Why would she tell you, stupe?” the peeve demanded.

“She wouldn't,” Hannah said. “But she will, when the time comes.”

“I'm not at all sure of that,” he said, both flattered and alarmed. “I'm still in grief for Go-Go.”

“Good thing you didn't remember that when Gwenny tumbled you those nights,” the bird said.

Hannah shrugged. “What do you demonesses think?”

“She'll marry him,” Dara said. “She'll tell him, and he'll say yes, and it will all be over except for the big dull wedding.”

“His fate is pickled,” Metria agreed. No one asked her to clarify the word, but she nevertheless looked cross.

It was past time to change the subject. “Should we tell Magician Trent of our concern?”

“We'd better,” Hannah said. “Though he's probably way ahead of us.”

The demons took them back to the peak of Iron Mountain. Magician Trent was there, with the two princesses. “What can we do for you, Coordinators?” he inquired.

“We're afraid we're in trouble,” Goody said. “Because the robots are too numerous and tireless.”

“Of course. Our forces will have to make a strategic withdrawal.”

“A what?” Metria asked.

“Retreat,” he clarified. “Up the slope of Iron Mountain.”

“But then the robots will get to the base of the mountain,” Goody protested.

“So they will,” Trent agreed.

“But then we'll have lost!”

“Not necessarily. The girls and I may have a surprise for them.”

“I don't understand.”

The Magician smiled tolerantly. “Do you need to?”

Goody stared at him, unable to answer.

“Feline got your gizzard?” the parody inquired snidely.

“What Grandad means,” Dawn said brightly, “is that if a smart goblin like Goody doesn't get it, and if a battle-hardened barbarian like Hannah doesn't get it, neither will the robots.”

“That's important,” Eve agreed darkly. “Of course they're only machines, but they have mechanical sense. I have fathomed considerable potential in their program.”

“What should we do?” Hannah asked.

“Circulate to the sectors and tell them to fall back as necessary to preserve their formations. To withdraw to the upper slopes of Iron Mountain. The robots will cease engaging them when they reach the base.”

The demons closed in about Goody and Hannah and bore them away. “Has Trent lost his statues?” Metria inquired as she pinched his bottom.

“His whats?”

“Sculptures, granites, concretes, stones, rocks, glass spheres—”

“Marbles?”

“Whatever. Once those robots have access to the iron, they'll be unstoppable.”

“That is my thought,” Goody agreed glumly. “Yet the princesses seem to agree with him.”

“They do have talents.”

“Which hardly seem to apply here.”

They arrived at the werewolf sector. The wolves and elves were clearly suffering. The animals' sides were lathered, and the elves were almost out of arrows, yet the robots were coming on unabated.

Prince Jeremy spied them. He loped up and changed to naked man-form. “We need support,” he gasped. “We are taking losses and the robots seem innumerable.”

“The Magician says to withdraw up the slope of Iron Mountain when you have to,” Goody said. “Keep your formation.”

“But that will give the robots access to the iron at its base.”

“Yes. He has a plan.”

“That's good to know.” He changed back and ran to rejoin his pack.

“I'm glad he had the sense to leave Jenny behind,” Hannah said.

They moved on to the centaurs. This time it was Cheery who spied them. She trotted up, but the peeve did not make any comment about her bouncing front. “The demons and humans really helped, but they had to move on to support the naga, and we're low on arrows. We'll have to shut down the supply line soon.”

Goody relayed the Magician's message.

Cheery looked relieved. “Chevalier's injured, but he won't quit. A strategic withdrawal, however, might appeal.” She trotted away.

It was similar with the naga. The straight humans were helping them, and the demons were carrying robots high into the air and dropping them so that they broke, but it wasn't enough. “Withdraw to Iron Mountain!” Hannah shouted. “In orderly manner.”

The zombies had arrived to assist the dragons, and were gumming up many robots with their rotten parts. But here too the sheer numbers of the machines were slowly overwhelming them.

Vortex's snout appeared in the ground. “Brilliant!” his image said. “What a leader you have in Magician Trent!”

“But we don't even know his plan,” Goody protested.

“Oh, but we do! It's in Hannah's mind. I'll relay the news.” He tunneled out of sight.

Goody turned to Hannah. “You know?”

“Well, Dara and I discussed it. It seems she overheard Magician Humfrey discussing it. We hope it works!”