Wrede, Patricia C - Enchanted Forest 02 (17 page)

“Right,” said Mendanbar. He took three steps forward and stuck his sword into the glowing spell.

A jolt of power ran up his arm and the globe of light flashed brighter than the sun. Mendanbar’s eyes were dazzled by the flare, so he couldn’t see anything except purple spots, but he heard a loud roar, the angry hiss of a cat, and the sound of scales on stone, so he was sure the barrier was gone.

“Kazul,” Cimorene called from behind him. “It’s all right. It’s not wizards, it’s us.”

“And about time,” a deep, unfamiliar voice said. “Hello, Cimorene, Morwen. It’s nice to see you again. Who are these others?”

“This is Mendanbar, the King of the Enchanted Forest,” Cimorene answered, and Mendanbar felt her hand on his shoulder. “He’s the one who let you out. Over there is Telemain. He’s a magician, and he figured out how to do it.”

“Greetings, Your Majesty,” Mendanbar said, blinking. The purple spots began to fade at last, and he found himself staring into the green-gold eyes of an enormous female dragon. He only just managed to keep himself from backing up automatically. “Pleased to meet you.”

“Under the circumstances, most definitely so am I,” said the dragon with a smile that showed a large number of sharp-looking silver teeth. “How did you manage it?”

“Weren’t you watching?” Cimorene asked.

“Watching what?” Kazul replied. “I couldn’t see a thing except what was inside that blasted bubble with me.

“We could see you.”

“The shielding spell was unidirectional,” Telemain put in. “The external absorptive effect would enhance its efficiency.”

Kazul gave Telemain a hard look and smiled again, this time showing
all
of her teeth. “What was that again?”

Telemain looked at Kazul. Then he looked at Mendanbar. He frowned in concentration, and finally he said carefully, “The shield was a one-way spell. It soaked up everything that tried to get in from outside and used the energy to make itself stronger.”

“Very good,” Morwen said. “I was beginning to think you were hopeless.”

“I haven’t the slightest idea what you’re talking about,” Telemain said with dignity.

A yowl of complaint made them all turn their heads. The cream-and-silver cat was standing at the edge of the wet, soapy, lemon-scented area where the wizards had melted, shaking his front paws one at a time and eying the water with extreme disfavor.

“Too bad,” Morwen told the cat. “If you hadn’t sneaked in and attracted their attention, Mendanbar might not have had to be quite so extravagant with the spray. You’ll have to get across it by yourself. Where’s Chaos?”

The cat blinked disdainfully and began washing his right paw. Kazul snorted softly. “If you want a ride, climb up,” she told the cat. “But you’d better hurry, because I’m leaving now.”

Kazul rose to her feet, shaking her wings. The cat looked up from his washing, then took two bounds and leaped from the top of a projecting rock. He disappeared behind Kazul’s shoulder, and there was a brief sound of claws scraping against scales. Then the cat appeared on Kazul’s back, riding comfortably between the dragon’s wings and looking tremendously pleased with himself.

“Wait a minute,” Mendanbar said as the dragon started toward the other end of the cave. “There may be more wizards out there.”

“Good,” said Kazul without slowing down at all. “Four days is a long time to spend inside a blank bubble, and I owe them one. Besides, I’m
hungry.”

“I should think so!” Cimorene said, following the dragon. “Didn’t they give you anything to eat?”

“No, and I wouldn’t have taken it if they had,” Kazul said. Her voice became muffled as her head turned the corner at the far end of the cave. “For all I knew, those mumble mumble could have mumble dragonsbane in everything. I mumble mumble end up like Tokoz.”

“But if there are more wizards—,” Mendanbar began, then gave up and hurried after Cirnorene. Clearly, neither she nor Kazul was going to listen to him, and if there
were
more wizards outside it would be better if he—and his sword—were there to help.

T
here were, however, no wizards outside the cave. There was only an enormous stretch of barren land that looked as if it had been burned. Morwen’s long-haired tabby cat sat in the ashes several feet from the mouth of the cave, surveying the waste with evident disapproval.

“There you are,” Morwen said to the cat as she joined Cimorene and Mendanbar by Kazul’s left shoulder. “Any sign of more wizards?”

The cat meowed.

“Good,” said Morwen. “Did any of the others get away?”

The cat made a growling noise.

“Very good,” said Morwen. She turned to Mendanbar. “Can you keep them from interrupting us by accident?”

“I don’t think so,” Mendanbar said. “There isn’t any magic here for me to work with.” He was horrified at the extent of the destruction. How was he going to fix it?

“So this is how they did it,” Telemain’s voice said from behind Mendanbar. He sounded pleased, as if he had just solved a very difficult puzzle. “I’d been wondering.”

“Did what?” Mendanbar asked.

“Established that shield spell,” Telemain said. “The power involved was clearly several factors beyond the generating capacity of—”

Kazul turned her head and looked at Telemain.

Telemain coughed. “There weren’t enough wizards to have done it by themselves.”

“Power,” Mendanbar said, half to himself. “They sucked all the magic out of this whole area and put it in the shield. Where did it go when the shield disappeared?”

“Into your sword, of course,” said Telemain, as if that were so obvious that everyone should have realized it without his saying anything.

“And the sword is linked to the forest,” Mendanbar said. “And this is part of the forest, or should be. So. . .”

“So all you have to do is use the sword to put the magic back where it belongs,” Cimorene finished.

“Theoretically, that should work fine,” Telemain said, frowning. “But the practical applications aren’t always that easy.”

“Nonsense,” said Cimorene. “That sword turned a whole patch of the Mountains of Morning into a bit of the Enchanted Forest when we were having all that trouble getting here. Mendanbar pulled it back into the sword then; all he has to do now is turn that spell around and push magic out. Try it, Mendanbar.”

Slowly, Mendanbar lowered the tip of the sword until it touched the ashes. He couldn’t feel anything at first. Then he realized that he was trying to reach outside himself for the threads of magic that always floated around him in the Enchanted Forest. And in this wasteland there were no threads. He frowned. Closing his eyes, he concentrated on the sword instead.

That felt more promising. He could sense power crackling along the length of the blade, lots of power, but he did not think it would be enough. He stretched deeper, using his experience outside the Enchanted Forest to pull together every last bit of magic he could reach. It was still not enough.

“I don’t think I can do it, Cimorene,” he muttered.

“You can, too,” Cimorene said, and put her hand on his shoulder encouragingly. “Try again.”

As she touched his shoulder, Mendanbar felt it come—not just magic, not only power, but all the magic and power of the Enchanted Forest itself. It washed over him, and as it did he saw patterns in it, patterns that were the threads he manipulated to work magic in the forest. And he saw how to shift the pattern just a little, filling it in with the power stolen from the forest and stored in the sword, to repair the damage the wizards had done. Without thinking, he did it.

He heard an astonished gasp from Cimorene, a snort from Kazul, a low whistle from Telemain, and a surprised noise from one of the cats.

“Well!” said Morwen.

Mendanbar opened his eyes. A thick carpet of moss, greener than Kazul’s scales, spread out in all directions from the cave mouth. Massive oaks and beeches with copper leaves stood so close together that it was hard to see more than a little way into the shadows below them, packing every part of what had been a burned-out waste moments before. All around, Mendanbar could feel threads of magic hovering in the air, ready to use for more ordinary spells.

No one said anything for a long moment. Then Telemain tore his gaze away from the restored forest and turned to Mendanbar.

“Could you do that again, slowly, so I can analyze it?” he asked.

*
            
*
            
*

Despite Telemain’s urging, Mendanbar refused to repeat the spell immediately, though he did offer to let the magician watch when he went to clean up the barren area near the Green Glass Pool. Then Telemain wanted to stay and investigate the melted wizards some more, but Morwen and Cimorene insisted that this was a bad idea, and eventually he gave in. He was inclined to be sulky about it until Morwen pointed out that he had fourteen more wizards’ staffs to study, including one that had belonged to the Head Wizard. It cheered him up enormously.

“You’re quite right,” he told Morwen. “Those wizards will get themselves back together before long, and once they do, they’ll come looking for their staffs. If I don’t examine the staffs before then, I’ll lose my chance. I can always melt another wizard later and study the disintegration process then.” He hurried back into the cave, reappearing a moment later with his arms full of wizards’ staffs.

“Be careful with those!” Mendanbar said as Telemain came out onto the moss-covered ground.

“They are unlikely to be a source of difficulty without intelligent guidance,” Telemain said reprovingly. “So long as the wizards are not in contact with them, they are merely passive instruments of assimilation. There’s nothing to worry about.”

“Yes, there is,” Cimorene put in. “If you drop them, Mendanbar will have a lot of ugly brown marks on his nice new moss. And if they can do that, there’s no telling what else they might do.”

“Wizards store spells in their staffs,” Morwen said, nodding. “You can’t always be sure what will set one off.

Telemain looked at them with annoyance. “I suppose you’d rather I left them here. Have you no spirit of scientific investigation?”

“Not where wizards are concerned,” Cimorene muttered.

“Nonsense,” Morwen said. “I’m just as curious as you are, Telemain, but I never heard that a spirit of scientific inquiry precluded taking intelligent precautions.”

“Oh, I see,” said Telemain. “Why didn’t you just say so in the first place?”

While the others talked, Mendanbar studied the staffs, keeping a careful watch on the threads of En
chanted Forest magic that were nearest to Telemain. To his surprise, the threads showed no tendency to drift toward the magician or wind themselves into knots around the staffs he carried. Apparently, Telemain was right—the staffs would only be a minor nuisance as long as their wizards weren’t carrying them. He resolved to mention this to Telemain later. Perhaps Telemain could even help him find a way to deal with the problems the staffs caused when they
did
have their wizards with them.

A few minutes later, when Kazul was satisfied that there were no wizards left in the area, Mendanbar took them all back to the castle with a quick spell. He was relieved that the wizards’ staffs caused no trouble, and pleased to discover that transporting a dragon was no harder than transporting anyone else.

They materialized in the castle courtyard, just inside the moat. Willin, who had apparently been watching for their arrival, came hurrying out to meet them.

“Welcome home, Your Majesty,” the elf said with evident relief. Mendanbar noticed that he’d dug up a formal uniform somewhere, all sky-blue velvet and dusty gold braid. “May I assume that your mission was a success?”

“Yes, you may,” Mendanbar said. “Willin, this is Kazul, the King of the Dragons, and she’s very hungry. See if you can scare up something in the kitchen that would do for a dragon-sized meal.”

“At once, Your Majesty,” Willin said, bowing. “And may I congratulate you and your companions on your great achievement and welcome King Kazul to the Enchanted Forest.”

“The welcome I’m interested in is dinner,” Kazul said with a smile that showed all her teeth.

Willin backed away hastily. “Of course, of course. I’ll see about it immediately.”

“I’d better come with you,” said Cimarene. “I’ve been Kazul’s Chief Cook for over a year, and I know what she likes.”

The two of them left, heading for the other side of the castle, with Kazul trailing hopefully behind them.

Mendanbar wasn’t sure whether to be disappointed or relieved. He wanted very much to talk to Cimorene, but he wasn’t sure how to tell her what he wanted to say, and anyway they certainly couldn’t discuss the things he wanted to talk about with all these other people around.

“Mendanbar, have you got somewhere I could work on these without being disturbed?” Telemain asked, nodding at the load of wizards’ staffs he was carrying.

“I wouldn’t mind examining them myself,” Morwen said.

“The blue room would be best, I think,” Mendanbar said. “The light is better in my study, but there’s a gargoyle in the corner who can be, um, difficult.”

“W’e’ll take the study,” Morwen said decisively. “Light is important, and once Telemain gets involved, he won’t notice any distractions.”

“What about you?” Telemain asked, nettled. Morwen sniffed. “I can handle considerably more than a mere gargoyle.”

“All right,” Mendanbar said. “As long as you’re sure.”

He showed them to the study and helped them get settled, then went down to the kitchen to see how Cimorene and Kazul were doing. He found Kazul in the rear courtyard, eating an enormous kettle of stew that had been intended to be supper for the entire castle. Cimorene was in the kitchen, her arms covered in flour to the elbows, rolling out pie crust and giving orders to the cook. Mendanbar stayed long enough to make sure that the cook would do whatever Cimorene told him to, and then Cimorene chased him away, saying that it was difficult enough to cook in a strange kitchen without people hovering over her.

“You don’t have to cook anything,” Mendanbar told her.

“I do if we want any dinner,” Cimorene retorted. “Kazul is already eating everything that was ready for tonight, and she’s going to want more as soon as she’s finished. Your people aren’t really prepared to cope with a visiting dragon.”

“We’ve never had one before.”

“Well, you have one now.” Cimorene glanced toward the courtyard and lowered her voice. “I think we’ll be staying for a few days at least, if that won’t cause too many problems. Kazul needs to get her strength back before she tries to fly back to the Mountains of Morning.”

“You can stay as long as you like,” Mendanbar assured her. “Is there anything I can do to help?”

“You can let me get back to making dinner!” Cimorene said. She was smiling, but she obviously meant what she had said.

“All right. Call me if you need anything.” Mendanbar bowed and left, feeling a little put out.

*
            
*
            
*

He went to the castle library, since his study was occupied, and poked about in the scrolls for a few minutes. Then he decided to check on Prince Rupert and his nephew. He found the middle-aged prince quickly enough, but he had to send someone to retrieve the young Crown Prince from the dungeon.

“Did you enjoy your stay?” Mendanbar asked when Crown Prince Jorillam arrived at last.

“It was all right,” Jorillam said. He looked rumpled and vaguely dissatisfied. “But there weren’t any rats. I thought there’d be rats. There wasn’t a rack, either.”

“Jorillam!” Prince Rupert said sharply. “It’s not polite to complain about things like that. Where are your manners?”

“I don’t understand,” Jorillam said, frowning. “If there
were
rats and a rack, I’d be expected to object, wouldn’t I? So why can’t I complain when they
aren’t
there?”

“It’s not the same thing,” Rupert told him. “I’m sorry, Your Majesty,” he went on, turning to Mendanbar. “He’s used to getting his own way. I’m afraid I haven’t done a very good job of teaching him how to behave.”

“I behave just fine,” Jorillam said.

“I am beginning to understand why you wanted to abandon him in the Enchanted Forest,” Mendanbar said to Prince Rupert.

Rupert flushed. “No, no, it’s not that. I’m really very fond of the boy. But I have an obligation, you know, and there’s no getting out of it.”