The Oathbound Wizard-Wiz Rhyme-2 (10 page)

"Indeed," the angel agreed. "Ibile hash been so long steeped in sin that it is now saturated with sorcery. Therefore the spells of good wizards seem weakened, for they have so much greater a weight of evil to work against." Matt caught the concept instantly--a sort of magical inertia, varying directly with the evil confronted. "Can...No, strike that. Will God give me the extra strength I need to contend against magic like that?"

"He will give thee the strength, through the sorrowing patron of Ibile, who will ever stand ready to thine aid, if thou dost call upon him. Saint Iago is he named."

Not, Matt thought, the most auspicious of designations.

"Yet be not deceived," the angel said sternly. "If thou dost undertake this task for love of the Lord, He will give thee the strength--yet 'tis for thee to use that strength in such fashion as to banish these sorcerers of Ibile!"

"One against a thousand," Matt muttered. "Or five, or ten. I'm just not that smart."

"God will direct thee through His Grace--if thou art open to Him." Matt thought of all the times that he had given in to anger, or the other temptations of the flesh, and shuddered. But he sensed, somehow, that if he turned back from this challenge, he would never be all that he could be. "I didn't ask for this."

"Nay," the angel said, "thou didst--not in the foolish haste of thy words alone, yet in a movement within thy spirit that led to them." And that, Matt realized, was true. He had always been convinced of his own lack of worth--but his victory in Merovence had made him begin to think that he might be a better man than he had thought. In his cleanup campaign, each minor victory against a sorcerer had increased his longing for a bigger challenge, a stronger opponent to measure himself against...

But not this strong! "I just can't do it! Not alone!"

"Thou wilt not be alone," the angel assured him. "One already hath come to thine aid." It gestured toward Narlh's sleeping form. "There will be others--for many groan under the yoke of this sorcery."

Matt stared at the light, cowardice warring within him against courage and the need to prove himself. The moment stretched out...

Matt sagged. "I just can't do it."

The angel stood, humming, a moment longer...

Then, with a sound like a sigh, it disappeared.

Matt knelt, feeling the chill night air that somehow reached him through his guarding circle, then realized that it was a chill of the soul, a feeling of forlorn abandonment, removed from the messenger of God, from that partial contact with the Source of All...

He started to speak, then bit back the words, thought them over carefully, then swallowed, hoped he wasn't being as great a fool as he thought he was, and said, "Of course, I could try..."

The chill was gone; a warmth seemed to wrap him, and the thought sprang unbidden into his mind, that he had just reestablished contact with the valiant souls who had gone before him, whether to victory or martyrdom--and that thought made him realize that his refusal had been, in no matter how small a measure, his own cutting off of that contact.

If you wanted to belong to the club, you had to pay your dues. "Saint Iago," he breathed, "help me now, for I feel like the world's greatest coward!" And the help was instant, the warm, consoling, comforting presence within him, reassuring, bracing, and filling the void of his fear with courage. Staggering, Matt pushed himself to his feet, smiling up at the sky, his emotions a silent prayer of thanks, realizing that he was bound by his oath again, though he hadn't spoken it aloud--as much bound as he ever had been through foolish and hasty words.

He stood that way a moment, becoming aware of his surroundings again, noticing that the moon was near the zenith of its night's path. Then he turned away and went to wake Narlh for his watch.

The Sophisticated Cyclops

Matt didn't remember sleeping that night, and certainly didn't go anywhere, but his mind made a major expedition. It roved here and there from one thought to another, touching on idea after idea but never considering any one for very long. All in all, he should have waked exhausted, but when he finally saw the sky lightening with dawn and gave up, he was surprised to find himself feeling fully rested and craving action. He put it down to one of the many minor miracles that are continually happening and never really noticed much. On the other hand, maybe the episode with the angel had been a dream. Or was the distinction academic?

Over a breakfast of very well-done venison, he told Narlh, "I've changed my mind."

"Keeps it clean." The dracogriff took another bite of haunch and asked chewing, "Whatcha got in mind?"

"Going into the heart of Ibile," Matt answered. "Eventually to the castle of the sorcerer-king, I suppose."

Narlh nearly choked on his venison. Then he started coughing, and Matt jumped up, pounding between the beast's shoulder blades. Narlh took a long gasp, then bellowed, "Are you crazy?"

"Probably," Matt conceded.

Narlh swallowed the offending venison and demanded, "Just what the hell do you think you can do in Orlequedrille?"

"Haven't the foggiest," Matt admitted. "But I'll know by the time I get there."

"Yeah, 'cause you'll get there in pieces! Or trussed up and ready for the torture chamber, if you're lucky! King Gordogrosso doesn't waste perfectly good captives by chopping their heads off, y' know--he kills them as slowly as he can, and with every last ounce of pain, 'cause he loves watching it!" Matt shuddered and had second thoughts. Then he had thirds, and shook his head with adamantine resolve. "I'll have to chance it. There are too many people who'll go on suffering if I don't."

"And too many monsters who'll start suffering if you do!" Narlh scrambled to his feet. "Not me, Wizard! That's too dangerous for any decent man or beast!"

"I won't try to talk you into it." Matt worked at keeping his tone level. "I can't ask anybody to commit suicide with me--especially if it's going to be slow."

"Good! 'Cause I know a nice little valley, no men, no dragons, no ugly little sorcerers looking for monster blood! You go your way, and I'll go mine!

Good-bye!"

"Good luck," Matt called after Narlh's retreating tail. He watched the dracogriff waddle away for a few minutes, then sighed and knelt to throw dirt on the flames. When the camp fire was dead out, he turned, wishing he had a pack to shoulder, took up his staff, and started away downhill, with the sun at his back.

It would have been nice to have company, he mused--especially since he was beginning to get a very cold feeling inside. He sent up a quick plea to Saint Iago, to lend him some strength--and was surprised to feel warmth spreading through him, and confidence, and serenity. He was even more surprised to realize that he was beginning to think that if he died, he died--but at least he'd know he had tried his best. And this life didn't really matter much, measured against the next. Here in this world, he might not have become all he could, but at least he would have died trying.

Which meant, of course, that he'd enter the afterlife still trying to become greater of heart and soul. It began to make sense, that martyrs became automatic saints...

"On the other hand, that's probably where the bad men are that made my hatchling-hood hellish."

Matt nearly jumped ten feet in the air. "Yiiiii! What in the name of..." Then he realized that Narlh's huge nose was just beneath his elbow and heaved a sigh of relief. "Did anybody ever tell you that you move very quietly?"

"Not so mousy as that," the dracogriff returned. "If you can't pay any better attention, boy, you're going to be fried."

"Lesson noted." Matt glanced at the monster. "I thought you were going to a nice, quiet valley."

"Yeah--until I remembered I've still got a sorcerer on my tail. For a while, at least, I just might be safer with you than without you."

"Besides, you might find the men who made you miserable?"

"I was kinda thinking about that. If I do, see, they're bound to be trying to destroy you, 'cause they're evil, and you're not--so I'd have a great excuse to fry them."

Matt frowned. "Don't plan on revenge, Narlh. It's just as likely to destroy you as them."

"What're you, a preacher all of a sudden? Besides, I know that! Anybody in Ibile knows that! Try for revenge, and you put yourself into the hands of the Evil One--and the king and all his henchmen are the Devil's agents! No, revenge in Ibile just sets you up as a victim--unless you're one of the top sorcerers." Matt frowned. "Then, why..."

" 'Cause if I'm defending you, I'm not trying for revenge." The huge dragon head grinned at him. "But just sort of along the way, I bump off the ones I've got a grudge against. Neat, huh?"

"Very," Matt said slowly, "except that your real motives might weaken your case a little."

"Not if I'm acting as an agent of Good. Look, what changed your mind all of a sudden, huh?"

Matt took a deep breath and said, "An angel."

"See what I mean?" Narlh started making the weird sound that passed for his laughter again. "I got 'em knocked!"

"I see." Matt sighed. "And I have to admit I'm glad of your company. You realize, of course, that we stand a very good chance of going down in flames."

"As long as it's not hellfire." Narlh shrugged. "With that sorcerer on my tail, I'm likely to be drained, anyway. But with a wizard to help, the odds are a little better."

"Yes, except that I'm leading you into greater danger," Matt said. "Still, look on the bright side--I might have strong enough magic to make them kill us quickly, in self-defense."

"There you go!" Narlh agreed. "Of course, if you decided to turn back, I wouldn't object."

"Be a little disappointed in me, though?"

"No, not really." The dragon head turned toward him, frowning. "Why do you say that?"

"Because I would be." Matt turned his face downhill. "Well, let's march. Looks like it's going to be a long day,"

They'd only been on the road an hour or two before Narlh grew impatient with the slow pace and flew back to the campsite to pick up the saddle. Matt climbed aboard, and the dracogriff set off at what was, for him, a comfortable pace. Actually, it wasn't bad for Matt, either, once he got used to the notion of leaning forward in the saddle, to prevent the whiplashing that came from the monster's long, lazy leaps, and caught the rhythm of the slight posting he needed. Not much, though--Narlh's gait was like a horse with innersprings.

"I take it flying wouldn't be much faster than this?"

"Oh, some," Narlh allowed, "but I hate flying. Still, if you insist..." A suspicion formed in Man's mind; he remembered how close to the ground the dracogriff had stayed when last they'd flown. It hadn't been all that obvious, on a mountain hillside when they were chasing a rolling rock--but now, on a road with a much gentler slope..."If you would. Just for a little way--I want to stay used to the rhythm of it, in case we need to take off in an emergency."

"Oh, all right," Narlh grumped, and lit out in a long, flat run, faster and faster, wings spreading wide to the sides...

Then they were airborne. Matt looked down and saw the ground sinking away... But not very far.

"Uh--you can go higher than this if you have to, can't you?"

"Don't worry," Narlh snapped. "If I see a tree, I'll loft over it." He took a quick glance at the sky behind him, then turned back to face front. It gave Matt a chill. What would have happened if that tree had shown up while Narlh hadn't had his eyes on the road? "I...take it you'd prefer not to go higher if you can help it."

"Oh, I can help it! You can be sure of that." Narlh turned back to scowl at Matt. "What're you getting so nervous about? Who's doing the flying, anyway?"

"Me! So would you mind keeping your eyes on the road?" Narlh snatched a quick glance at the sky, then turned back to front, muttering something about the people in back always having to have things their own way.

Matt gave up. "Okay, that's enough for an air drill. You can go down now."

"Thank heaven!" Narlh huffed, and slowed down to a long gallop as he hit the ground. Matt was reminded of an albatross, with that need for a long runway--only this time, he was hanging on to its neck. It was a rough landing, but all in all, Matt decided it was safer than flying with Narlh.

It was afternoon when they spotted the refugee family. The father was pulling a handcart, slogging away, keeping the cart going mostly by throwing the weight of his body against it. The mother was carrying a baby, and the children were fussing, protesting with every step.

Matt's heart went out to them.

Then the mother saw Narlh. She gave a cry of alarm, and suddenly the cart was standing in the roadway by itself, as the family headed for the roadside brush.

"Hey! Hold on, there! Doggone it, I'm a nice guy!" Narlh roared, and leaped after them.

Matt just barely managed to hold on. "Uh--it might help if you didn't charge them, Narlh."

"What's this charge business? I'm just trying to catch up with them!"

"Yes, but to the uninformed, it might look as though you were chasing them. And you did sound kind of angry."

"Angry? Of course I'm angry! How would you feel if people ran whenever they saw you?"

"I wouldn't like it. And I didn't, either." Matt was thinking about a couple of girls he'd been attracted to in high school. "But believe me--it works better if you sit and wait for them to come to you."

Narlh dug his claws in and jammed to a halt by the cart. "Says you! Me, I'll try the old-fashioned method." He jammed his snout into the brush. "Yoo-hoo!

Where are you? Come out, come out, wherever you are!"

There was a scrabbling noise, moving away from them.

"Aw, come on now!" Narlh said, exasperated. "I'm not gonna eat you, for crying out loud!"

"I think that might be just what they were worrying about" Matt slid off his back and stepped into the center of the roadway, calling, "Really, folks! He's got a nasty temper, but he's got a heart of gold...plate," he added, in case any sorcerers were listening. "And I'm a wizard, from Merovence. We really don't mean any harm. Why don't you come on out and chat awhile?" Narlh frowned at him as though he were crazy, but kept quiet. Finally, a man's voice answered, with a strong peasant burr, "If ye truly mean us no harm, strangers, ride on, I beg of ye."