Isle Of View (22 page)

As it happened, she tested well, and later she learned to fly. He had not told her how, of course; part of her proving of herself was in achieving this without help. Then they had married, and the Simurgh herself had overseen the ceremony and sworn all the monsters to safeguard their offspring. That had been a surprise; Cheiron had in mind a stable new species, but evidently there was more to it than that. What was Che's destiny? It had to be considerable, for never in known history had the Simurgh left her perch in the Tree of Seeds to participate in such an event.

Could that destiny be why Che had been abducted? Was someone aware of the future and determined to change it by eliminating the centaur before he came of age to achieve that destiny? If so, this was worse than a conspiracy to resume the war between monsters; this was an effort to change destiny itself. Cheiron would have found that chilling even if it hadn't been his beloved foal at stake.

Chex detected his presence and woke. She smiled. What a lovely creature she was! “Have you located Che?” she asked.

“Yes. There is a complication. I am handling it.”

“Oh, good,” she said, visibly relieved, and relaxed back into sleep.

He had done the minimum he had to: he had told her part of it. He saw nothing to be gained by telling her exactly where Che was. That would only send her into as close an approach to being hysterical as she could manage. He was indeed handling it, and with luck the rescue mission would be organized and on its way before she caught up on her sleep and demanded further information.

He saw swift little dragonfiies taking off for points north, east, west, and south, leaving tiny contrails. Dragon Net was sending out his minions to summon the creatures of the posse. The dragonflies would know where to find the fiercest yet most disciplined monsters, and would bring them back here as fast as possible. Cheiron was satisfied; he knew he could leave the organization of the posse to Dragon Net, knowing that it would be competently done.

Indeed, already there was a medium-small dragon coming in. How fast word spread!

But this dragon sought Cheiron, not Net. “I have seen your foal!” he gasped, his fire almost out. He had evidently flown swiftly, gaining on the clumsy harpy, and had a significantly later report. “He was riding a sphinx in the company of girls and goblins, and one of them had a magic wand! They used the wand to twist my companion and me out of the sky, but not before we could see that something strange was afoot!”

Cheiron was amazed. Che riding a sphinx? Sphinxes cared little for the affairs of other creatures. Girls? What were they doing in this business? Goblins on a sphinx? That was strangest of all!

He got the dragon to describe the other folk as well as it could, and gradually he pieced it together. One girl was stunningly beautiful: that sounded like Nada Naga. Chex had said that a number of search parties had gone out, and the two Betrothees of Prince Dolph formed one party. The dragon had also noted the pointed ears of the elf girl. So the Betrothees could have rescued Che and the elf, and then Prince Dolph could have come and assumed the form of a sphinx, so as to carry them. The goblins must be prisoners, perhaps hostages. So Che had been saved.

But the dragon said the party was going north, away from Che's home. That seemed to make no sense! The sphinx could have crunched right through the goblin camp, gone directly home, and been there by now. Why was it going the wrong way?

“You look puzzled, centaur,” a voice said.

He looked but saw nothing. “Who are you?” he demanded, in no mood for mischief.

A form appeared, vaguely human. “I am D. Metria.”

“A demon!” he exclaimed. “You're no winged monster! You don't belong here.”

“Yes I am,” the figure said, sprouting wings and breasts. “Yes I do. I have come to impart olds that will interest you and cause you much perplexity.”

“Impart what?”

“History, information, bulletin, communication, ancient or recent intelligence—”

“News?”

“Whatever.” She flapped her wings in annoyance. “About your foal. But if you aren't interested—” She began slowly fading.

“I am interested,” Cheiron said quickly.

“Well, you didn't act interested.” She faded further.

Cheiron suspected that she was teasing him. He did not appreciate it. “Either impart your news or fade out entirely,” he snapped, turning away.

“What will you give me for it?”

“Nothing, because I do not trust demons.” He walked on ignoring her.

This evidently unsettled her. “Do you have a creature who can verify truth? Let me talk to that one.”

“The zombie owl can do that,” he said shortly. "Over there.” He pointed to the perch where the decrepit bird slept by day.

The demoness flew to the owl. “Listen, you rotter,” she said, “tell the centaur whether I speak truth. The Prince's Betrothees made a deal with Godiva Goblin of Goblin Mountain to work together to save the foal from the Golden Horde and then decide where he should go, because neither side wanted the foal dead. They saved the foal with the help of the foreign elf girl, and then played a game of godo to decide. Godiva won, so they had to help her take the foal to Goblin Mountain.”

The owl opened one big rancid eye. “Trhoo,” it squawked.

So it was true! This complicated things further. If a deal had been made to save Che, he could not in honor abrogate it. Goblin Mountain was bad, but not nearly as bad as the Golden Horde. “Why north? That's not the way to Goblin Mountain either.”

“They had to flee north until Prince Dolph caught up to them,” Metria said. “Then the horde had covered all points south, so they had to plan a route the other way around the Elements, traveling together. It seemed less risky. If the girls had won, the Prince could have taken the smaller party directly through the air to the foal's home.”

“Trhoo,” the owl agreed.

“So they are all traveling together,” Cheiron concluded, “because all are bound to see Che safely to his destination.”

“You got it, centaur,” the demoness agreed. “Doesn't that make your tail feathers squirm?”

“Why does Goblin Mountain want Che?”

“I wasn't interested enough to investigate that.”

“Fhalse,” the owl said.

“Oh shut up, you odd bird!” the demoness snapped. Then, to Cheiron: “I just think you'll squirm more if leave something to your imagination.”

“Trhoo.”

Cheiron knew he would not get any more useful information from her. “Thank you, demoness,” he said. “I will take it from here.”

“Aren't you going to go rescue your foal?”

“In due course.”

“If you hurry, you can do it before they reach Goblin Mountain.”

“I am aware of that.”

Her demonic eyes glittered. “So?”

“So I'll wait,” he said, wishing she would go away. But there was almost no way to make a demon depart short of an exorcism, and he lacked that talent.

Her eyes rounded in simulated surprise. “You mean you will let the nasty goblins get your innocent foal into their awful mountain, from which little short of all-out war will dislodge him?”

“Yes.”

“But why, centaur? Isn't that foolish, even to your kind?”

He knew she was baiting him and getting her demonic jollies there from, but he had to answer. “No. It is a question of honor. A deal was made to save Che, and that deal has to be honored. So we shall rescue Che after that deal has been honored.”

“But that will require a battalion of the most ferocious monsters you can muster—and then you'll have to dismantle the mountain level by level to reach the foal.”

“Yes.”

She shook her head. “That should be fun. I shall be sure to watch the show.” She faded out.

Some show! But despite her cruel teasing, she was right: it would be one horrendous job to reduce that mountain, and it would expose Che to unconscionable risk. But what he had not told the demoness was that he had another way in mind.

It would be a while yet before the posse was assembled. Now he could relax, getting some necessary rest before the campaign began. As he saw it, the sphinx, traveling at normal sphinx velocity, would not arrive until evening. The night would not be good for an attack by flying creatures. So they had until the following morning to get there and get set up. Then they would see.

One thing was sure: Che Centaur was not going to remain prisoner in Goblin Mountain.

Cheiron slept on his feet beside Chex, waiting out the day. Periodically reports came in. A roc arrived, the hugest of birds, and squawked in its deafening language. Grundy Golem woke from his nap on Chex's back, and took the message, for Grundy's talent was language.

“He says the sphinx passed through the realm of the birds, and Che was there with the others and seemed healthy.”

“Thank you,” Cheiron said, and Grundy emitted a loud squawk, translating. Actually Cheiron could understand bird language pretty well himself, from long association, but he preferred to let the golem feel useful.

Later a griffin arrived, a handsome creature with the body of a lion and the head of an eagle, whose hide was the color of shoe polish. Grundy translated again, and so they learned that the party had passed through that region safely. Che still seemed well, and friendly with the odd elf.

By this time Chex was awake, and Cheiron updated her on developments. “So Che is safe, but we have to allow him to be taken to Goblin Mountain,” he concluded.

“Yes, of course,” she agreed, appreciating the necessity of honoring the deal that had enabled Nada and Electra to save the foal from the horrendous clutches of the Goblinate of the Golden Horde. “Then when the party goes on, we must question that elf, who is obviously the one I encountered. I believe her cat located Che, but she was then made prisoner by the goblins along with Che, and they have been companions in adversity. I suspect she has been a mainstay of support for him, because he has evidently borne up surprisingly well. This would not have been the case had he been alone.”

Cheiron agreed. Che was bright in the centaur way, but emotionally remained a foal, and could not have handled the horror of captivity by the horde by himself. But with a companion to shield him from the full impact, he could have survived, and evidently had. That spoke volumes for the elf girl. Perhaps she had no special virtues, but she had been there at the critical time, and that made all the difference.

In the afternoon, Dragon Net's posse was ready. It consisted of one flying sphinx, two chimaerae, three rocs, four griffins, five flying dragons, and a flock of harpies. There were hosts of tiny dragonflies and fireflies as a support group, and a cockatrice for close work.

One of the dragons was Draco of Mount Etamin, immediately to the south of Goblin Mountain. He was a fire-drake, not large for a dragon, but versatile, because he could traverse caves, even when they extended under water. He had attended Cheiron's nuptial ceremony, bringing Prince Dolph, who had assumed the form of a dragonfly for the occasion. Draco knew the region well, and would serve as a guide for the members of the posse who were from farther afield. Cheiron was glad to see him; there was no substitute for direct knowledge of the terrain.

Before they took off, Cheiron briefed them. “My foal, Che, will be the captive of the tribe of goblins residing at Goblin Mountain. We do not know why they abducted him, but the indication is that they do not plan to harm him. There is no present evidence that they intend to use him politically; apparently this is a private matter. It is possible that it relates to Che's identification by the supreme winged monster, the Simurgh, as one whose life will change the course of the history of Xanth. The goblins may believe that by controlling him, they control Xanth. We can not allow this, either in terms of the history of Xanth or as a personal matter, as he is my foal.”

He glanced around the group a moment before continuing. All the members of the posse were grim as they received the information. He was speaking in the human language, which many of them did not understand perfectly, so Grundy Golem was translating. First the rocs and griffins listened to the squawks, and ruffed out their feathers and flexed their claws. Then the dragons listened to the growls, and puffed out slow jets of fire, smoke, or steam, depending on their species.

“I will not attack the mountain at the outset,” Cheiron continued as the translations caught up. “I will deliver an ultimatum: they will have a set time in which to deliver Che to me, unharmed. If they do so, we will depart in peace.” As the translations reached that point, the creatures showed disappointment. They preferred to fight. It was not that they didn't want to save Che, it was that it was more glorious to wrest him by battle than to have him handed over without struggle.

“If they do not do so, we will attack,” Cheiron said, and at that point there were squawks of approval and fierce jets of fire, smoke, and steam. “We will take out their guards at the surface and smoke out the deeper denizens.” Here the smokers exhaled, for a moment disappearing in a cloud of smoke. Some folk thought that smoke was not as effective as fire, but the fact was that in an enclosed space, smoke was more deadly than fire. Those goblins would come out coughing! “But we shall do so in an orderly manner, halting the moment they capitulate. This is a rescue mission, not a destruction mission.”

“But suppose they kill the foal?” the sphinx inquired.

Cheiron saw Chex flinch. He wished that question had not been asked, but he had to answer it. “Then we destroy that tribe completely,” he said grimly.

They made suitable expressions of regret for the loss of the foal, but were thrilled at the prospect of mayhem on this level. It had been a long time since there had been a prospect like this. Cheiron was privately disgusted, but knew that his posse had to have the capacity to reduce that mountain to rubble; otherwise the goblins would laugh at me ultimatum. They might laugh anyway, until a demonstration of power was made.

“We expect to arrive at night,” Cheiron concluded. “We will rest until morning, and then survey the situation while we negotiate. Remember: we may make a show of force, but we will not actually attack until they either refuse to yield the captive or show bad faith. Discipline is paramount.”