Her Majesty's Wizard #1 (47 page)

   Matt sat there, letting the chill of her words sink in. As soon as the giant turned back into flesh, then, they'd be facing a set of stacked odds that would make Crecy and Agincourt look like an even match. "That soon, huh? Well, I hope we'll be tooled up."

   "The abbess and her warrior nuns ride to meet us." Alisande's face was stone. "And the abbot of the Moncaireans comes with all his men."

   "Shouldn't we wait a little for them to catch up with us?" Matt asked.

   The princess shook her head. "Malingo may try to crush us ere we wake Colmain-if he can."

   It wouldn't take much, Matt knew-and something just as dangerous was shaking his confidence. "Uh, your Highness..."

   She seemed to steel herself. "Aye?"

   "We may have a grave interior weakness at this last battle.. ."

   "We will not." She said it with utter finality, like the crash of steel doors-but there was a hollowness behind them. That unquestionable conviction with which she spoke on public matters was lacking.

   Therefore, it had to be a private matter.

   "That's not what the Reverend Mother thought," Matt reminded her.

   Alisande's chin tucked up another notch. "I am mindful of her admonition, Lord Wizard-and I mind me there were two courses of action for me."

   For her? Did she really think she could make this a unilateral decision? Come to that, did she think she could resolve it by a simple decision? "There were two," Matt agreed carefully. "That we pledge, or finish."

   "I choose the second." Alisande bit the words off. "Purge any feeling you have for me, Lord Wizard, as I have done regarding you."

   "Oh, really? You've totally canceled any emotions you might have toward me?"

   "Completely," she answered, her face like flint.

   "Just by an act of will, eh? You just kicked out anything you felt for me, except possibly regarding my strategic value. Right?"

   "Indeed." She seemed to be wilting inside the armor of her skin.

   "Well, there's a word for that, where I come from ..."

   "I care not to hear it."

   "Repression," Matt grated. "It's bad business, your Highness, very dangerous. Repressed emotions tend to leap out at you when you least expect them-and usually at the worst possible moment!"

   "They are not repressed," Alisande ground out, "but banished."

   "An interesting theory." Matt tossed away a pheasant bone and stood up. "But for myself, I don't like going into battle on the strength of an hypothesis. You're the solar plexus of this army, Princess; so if there's a weakness in you, there's a weakness in the whole body of us!"

   "But there is no weakness in me." She glared up at him.

   "Oh? In case it hasn't occurred to your Highness, this isn't a public concern-that's only the fringe of it, the side effect. This matter is personal-and your infallibility just failed!" He turned away into the night, stalking past Sir Guy's raised eyebrow with a snarl.

CHAPTER 18

   It had been a low blow, he had to admit an hour later, when everyone was bedded down and only the embers of the campfire lighted the site: When would he learn to control his tongue-and his temper? If Alisande had ever had any notion of admitting any feeling for him, she certainly couldn't now. He'd spoken in anger born of hurt-and now, alone in the dark, looking for the roots of that hurt, he had to admit his care for her was a lot more than he'd wanted to feel about anyone. He'd never permitted himself to want anything beyond the physical level, and that not strongly or often-because he'd known, instinctively, that any physical act would pull emotion in with it. There were people, he knew, who could split themselves so that desires of the body didn't touch the heart-but he wasn't one of there.

   He stared out into the darkness, unseeing, trying to blank his mind until he could sleep.

   His eyes focused on a spark.

   He went rigid, nearly jumping out of his skin. Max-the Demon! What was it doing, out of his pocket?

   Then his eyes adjusted to the contrast between the brilliant dot and the face next to it. It was Sayeesa, sitting up with her blanket about her, watching the spark intently-almost, it would seem, happily. The faint humming stopped, and she nodded eagerly. Her lips moved, and he could hear the low murmur of her voice. It went on for awhile; then the spark hummed again. The Demon seemed to be striking up quite a rapport with her.

   That worried Matt.

   He was still worrying about it an hour later, when the spark finally winked out, and Sayeesa lay down, rolling over in her blanket and drawing the fabric up about her shoulders.

   Matt lay still, feeling the tension prickle through him, feeling like a lightning rod just before the lightning struck. What was going on here? He could feel huge forces gathering around him, vast, grinding, groaning, welling up about this valley and the plain beyond, ready to smash in, twisting, rending, destroying anyone who got in their way.

   Which force would win? Good? Or Evil? Both were probably really quite impersonal-but not from his viewpoint.

   They rolled down over his soul, wrapping him in a thick, unseen, dark cloud. He felt as if he were lying at the bottom of a well of molasses-felt he could almost hear the gnashing and grinding of those great forces, louder and louder...

   He sat bolt-upright, staring out into the darkness, heart hammering. He was hearing a huge, slow, grinding sound, like a glacier chewing its way through a quarry.

   Then he began to detect a pattern to it, a dipping, swinging, modulation that slowly formed itself into a word:

   MMMAAATHHHEEEWWW

   The hair on his head tried to jump at the stars. He sat very still, digging his fingers into the grass, trying to hold himself down.

   MMMAAATHEWWW! the groaning voice ground out again. W W WIZZARRDD MMAATHEW W !

   He looked around him wildly. The rest of the company was asleep-and he should know better than to go out alone at night. Something bad always happened when he did. But...

   He shook his head and slowly climbed to his feet, knees trembling. Whatever it was that was calling him, he had to find out. He picked up his helmet, fastened it on, picked up his shield, and turned away toward the sound of the voice with one hand on the hilt of his sword.

   He was walking toward the Plain of Grellig.

   The call was not quite to the plain itself, he found, as he toiled up the slope that led to a ridge between the two peaks. The voice was coming from the southern peak. He turned, following it, his footsteps slow, though the sound of his name was coming faster now, in a low, rumbling voice that shivered through his bones. He forced himself onward, step after step, till he came to the bottom of a forty-foot rock outcrop.

   He peered up into the starlight and saw that the top of the peak was rounded off into a very craggy dome. Maybe it was a trick of the light, but he thought he could make out pocks and crevices whose shadows gave the appearance, very roughly, of a brow ridge, nose, and a slash of mouth.

   "You come," the mountain grated. "At last you come. Have waited, Wizard, waited years by hundreds."

   Matt tried to speak-had to try again. "Who... who are you?"

   "Am Colmain."

   Matt couldn't move. He was rooted to the spot. This was the end of the long chase, then-this great slab of granite with the voice of the earthquake.

   But it seemed wrong, somehow. He'd expected more from a giant with Colmain's reputation-illogically, of course; giants weren't even really human. "How do you know me?"

   "Know ye? Summoned ye, Wizard!"

   "You? You're the power that's been backing me all this time?"

   "Aye, aye!" the great voice rumbled. "Hundreds of years, sought through worlds while body stood here, seeking sphere where wizards learned changing of substances."

   "Transmutation? Lead into gold?"

   "Aye. Only wizard from world where can change lead to gold could change stone back to flesh! So summoned ye!"

   "Well, you called the wrong wizard. I'm from the right universe-but I don't know anything about transmutation. My study is words and the things men make of them."

   "What else is wizard?" the giant bellowed. "Knowing ye, or not have called ye! Wizard, change to flesh!"

   Reluctance crystallized, and Matt balked. " We're planning on it in the morning. At the moment I'm worn out from a long day in the saddle. If I tried to do it now, I might botch it."

   "Try!" the granite thundered. "Must try! Must do-and now! Sorcerer-force comes! Army of Evil nears! Ye feel their coming?"

   So that was the sense of great powers gathering that Matt had felt. "Uh... yeah, I've felt it."

   "Then why nay-say? Hurry! Do now! Ere sorcerer blasts stone to gravel, and not waken ever!"

   Matt stood immobile, hung on a decision.

   "Do!" the cliff face bellowed. "Now! Or Hell takes!"

   He was right. Malingo was gathering his powers, both physical and magical; and the forces of Good were approaching in response. It had to be done-and done quickly.

   "All right. But I've never done anything on this scale before. It may take me a few tries to get it right."

   "Once only!" the giant thundered. "Or lose life!"

   Matt looked up, irritated. The giant wasn't in much of a position to threaten-or was he? If he had pulled Matt to Merovence...

   He turned back, knowing he was going to try; overbearing or not, the giant was necessary. But how the hell was Matt going to work this miracle? Sure, he'd managed to turn Stegoman back from stone to flesh. But that had been a small job compared to this, and the change to a statue had been too recent then to have had time to set. This had been resting for centuries.

   Still, maybe the theory was the same. In changing the giant to rock, the carbon must have been converted to silicon. That would cause a complete change in chemical bonds, resulting in a whole new set of molecules. If the silicon could just be turned back to carbon, maybe the process would reverse and the whole structure would come alive again.

   He gathered pebbles into a small mound, added a handful of sand, and mixed grass into it. He really needed flesh, but he'd eaten it all for dinner. Still, what counted was having carbon in organic compounds.

   But how was he going to put enough power into his verse? Maybe he'd better avoid specifics and stick to generalities. He had to indicate a change, a reshuffling, a turning ...

   The yin-yang symbol slashed vividly before his mind's eye, turning, endlessly turning.

   "Now the Wheel forever turns, Yin for Yang, until it burns.

   Silicon, now yield your place Unto carbon's rings of grace."

   He'd also better throw in some mythical references.

   "Turning still, however small, Cycling powers govern all. Thus Medusa's face, reflected From a mirror unexpected, Turned her body into stone, Letting Perseus gain a throne.

   "Make the cycle turn again; Perseus' loss, Medusa's gain. Let this granite turn to flesh, Caught within the Weavers' mesh, Where he webs both cord and twine, Human lives to Clotho's line."

   Now there was one thing he knew could be transmuted-and fast. He'd better throw it in for luck and power. He needed a whopper of a heavyweight spell.

   "Now to fill the needed sum, I invoke Plutonium. Fickle metal, lend your might; Life and flesh from stone excite."

   An explosion rocked the peak. Matt leaped back, arms wrapped around his head. The earth heaved once under him. He looked up to see huge shards of rock flying from the cliff and turned, running.

   Someone else was running-toward him. Long blonde hair waved in the moonlight. "Wizard! Reverse the spell!"

   Matt skidded to a halt, dread gripping his entrails.

   "Change him back!" Alisande screamed. "'Tis not Colmain!"

   There was an avalanche-roar as the giant shook free from the cliff, gloating and laughing. "Ballspear!" The creature broke away a ten-foot shaft of rock for a club. "Ballspear, poor believing man. Now pay for folly!" He turned, lumbering toward them in twenty-foot strides. The huge rock swung down.

   Matt yanked Alisande aside, diving. The great club smashed into the earth two feet away. They rolled back up and ran, with giant feet slamming the ground behind them.

   "Open earth, with hunger's wit; Let him fall into a pit!"

   The ground roared away from Ballspear's foot. The giant bellowed as he sprawled full-length into the huge pit. A roar of fury shook the earth, and a huge hand shot up over the edge, pulling until thirty feet of giant emerged, freeing him to the kneecaps. The ten-foot club slammed down at the end of a fifteen-foot arm.

   "Go!" Matt shouted, shoving Alisande away. She took off, outdistancing him in his armor. The great bludgeon slammed down a foot behind his heels. Ballspear climbed out of the pit.

   "Earth turn wet beneath. his shoes! Suck him down in mud and ooze!"

   Ballspear lurched off-balance as his right foot sank a fathom deep. He fell to his knees, roaring with fury, and the huge club slammed down. Matt leaped aside. The club gouged the ground beside him. He kept running.

   Alisande turned to wait for him, and he howled, "No! If you die, we all do!"

   Ballspear rumbled interest, pulled his feet out of the mire, and waddled toward Alisande, ignoring Matt.

   "Go!" Matt shouted furiously, and Alisande went.

   Ballspear pounded into a run, club on high.

   "Max!" Matt shouted. "Do something!"

   "What?" The arc dot hummed with interest, zipping out through a chink in his armor.

   It had to have orders! "Break his club!"

   "How?"

   "Weaken the molecular bonds!" Matt shrieked, turning to follow the princess.

   The dot of light streaked toward the giant. The huge club hurtled down at Alisande-and exploded like a grenade.

   Grenade! Matt made a frantic dive, caught Alisande right in the back of the knees, and leaped up to crouch over her, shielding her with his armor. Something clanged against his back, then another gong crashed through him, knocking out his breath. His elbows slammed into the earth, and Alisande cried out beneath him. He struggled back to. his knees and saw Ballspear coming towards him, face huge and hideous with anger, like a broken mountain.

   Matt staggered to his feet, yanking Alisande up with him, and ran. Great hands clapped together just behind him; something struck him a glancing blow, wobbling his stride for a few leaps.

   Then they slammed into a cliff face.

   They spun about, panting, plastering themselves back against the rock, and saw the great hands groping for them, with a leering, six-foot face behind.

   Then thunder blasted the night in a bellow of rage. "Turn, foul monster, and face your doom! Colmain comes!"

   Another giant strode from the northern mountain, forty feet tall, bearing a thirty-foot spear of rock in his hand., He had dark hair over a broad forehead, deep-set eyes, a curly beard, and was dressed in bearskins. His footsteps thundered as he advanced on Ballspear.

   "Something-I know not what-roused-me from slumber. I see 'twas timely, for now you die, vile Ballspear!"

   "Praise Heaven!" Alisande gasped. "But ... how?"

   "My spell!" Matt cried, insight electrifying him. "I didn't say which giant!" He'd thrown all his power into it and gotten overkill, or over-wake. But, weakened by distance, it had taken longer to act.

   Ballspear snarled and reached up to rip loose another club of rock. Whirling the bludgeon above his head, he charged Colmain, who ran to meet him. The club lashed out, but Colmain leaped aside, catching Ballspear's arm as it came down and pulling sharply. Ballspear stumbled, thrusting his club down at the ground for support, and whirled about to see Colmain's spear stabbing at his eyes. He swung the club up fast to knock the spear aside, whirled it around, and lashed out to smash into Colmain's breastbone. Colmain staggered, tripped, and fell. Ballspear brayed savage laughter, swinging the club above his head two-handed. Colmain stabbed upward with the spear.