[Kelvin 03] - Chimaera's Copper (with Robert E. Margroff) (37 page)

"General Reilly, General Crumb, come quick! My brother and I have begun your escape!"

CHAPTER 28 Goodbye Again

Kelvin's finger was already tightening on the trigger of the Mouvar weapon when he noticed that his gauntlets were hot. Well, that was natural, wasn't it? The gauntlets warned of danger, and certainly that ball of fire was danger. So why did he hesitate?

He knew what would happen when he pressed the trigger. The witch's fire would return to its sender and destroy her. The Mouvar weapon was antimagic, as his father had deduced. By moving the little fin-shape on the handgrip he would simply counter the magic, wipe it out, as it were.

Was it really Zoanna hurling that fire? Or was it the other witch, the one said to live here?

No, No, Kelvin! Do not destroy the witch! Do not destroy her!

It was the chimaera's thought! The monster was still with him! He had thought Mervania long disconnected.

You think I don't want those berries? Leave it to you and you'll never get back with them! First you'll fool around fighting, then you'll go see your wife, and forget about what's important.

"But the fireball!"

Believe me, I know better than you!

But--

The fireball that was now ahead of the advancing army dipped groundward. Now was the time to act!

No! No, you fool inferior life-form! Don't you feel your gloves heating? You'll kill your mother!

That got him. He didn't know what the chimaera meant, but he knew a warning. Indeed, the gauntlets were burning; he had been concentrating so hard that he hadn't noticed, or had taken it to be from the radiation of the fireball. Quickly he moved the knob on his weapon so that it would simply counter the magic rather than rebound it on the sender. He started to squeeze the trigger, pointing the weapon skyward.

The fireball exploded spectacularly, sending down to the ground, just ahead of the troops, a golden waterfall of scintillating stars. The knoll shook, and his face hit the grass. He let loose of the weapon and for the moment he felt complete and overwhelming terror.

When he was able to look he could see the Kelvinian troops scattering, responding to the terror he'd felt. Behind them the fireball grew bright, sputtering like a dying fire. The fire hurt his eyes, creating afterimages that disoriented him and made him feel as if he were again in astral form. Then the images faded as the waterfall faded, and there was nothing but littered landscape and fleeing men.

Kelvin swallowed. "It--it could have killed, but it didn't!"

Now you know, Mervania said to him in his whirling head.

You said my mother! Kelvin thought back, dizzy.

Would I lie to you, when your mission for me is incomplete? Now you are soon to learn about your mother.

Phillip startled at the sound of breaking brush. His shot went wild and he heard the bolt thunk hard in the trunk of a tree down in the glen. He hadn't time to turn his head before he was grabbed hard from behind.

"YOU BRAT!" St. Helens roared. "You totally senseless nincompoop! Wasn't shooting her once treachery enough for you? Did you have to do it again and mess up our escape?"

Phillip was abashed. "I did it for you!"

St. Helens picked him up in very muscular arms and shook him. The face of this man who had meant so much to him since he had first accepted him as friend was terrifyingly red. St. Helens, he thought with shock, was about to kill him. "You did it for yourself, you show-off brat! Don't you tell me otherwise! Don't you even think otherwise!"

Phillip bit his tongue, whether deliberately or accidentally he couldn't have said. He tasted salt and felt blood trickling from the far corner of his mouth as St. Helens quit shaking him. Maybe the blood would appease him, he thought. He gazed into those angry eyes and everything he'd thought to say vanished from his mind.

"She's a good witch, Son," Mor Crumb said behind St. Helens. He was as big and rough a man as ever lived, and one who had no reason to love witches. "She's the kind we can deal with."

"A witch is a witch is a witch," Phillip intoned. It was, he'd learned, since his kingship, a common saying.

"Not this witch, Son." Mor spoke firmly, fatherly, with a hint of reproach.

"She's a good woman," St. Helens agreed, the fire in his eyes dampening. "She'd have helped us out of our real difficulties when she and I first met. She's not the enemy. Our enemy's back at our home palace."

"Zoanna?" Phillip managed.

"Zoanna."

"But you--"

"Were bewitched. Had your mind twisted. We all did. Same's the bitch did to John Knight, long time ago. But now we know. We know it's her and we can manage to do something."

Phillip looked at Crumb's face and then back at his former friend. They were both serious. Was it that he had unwittingly let himself be used by Zoanna exactly as he had let himself be used by Melbah? A witch was a witch was a witch. But couldn't there be a good witch?

"You may be right, Generals Reilly and Crumb, but I was going by experience. A witch is treacherous, cruel, and unforgiving. That's how Melbah was. How could I think that this witch would be different?"

"You couldn't, Phillip."

St. Helens opened his hands and dropped him. He hit the ground and saw both men staring past him. He turned. There, standing before them, apparently unarmed and unprotected, was the witch who to his eyes looked exactly like the one who had raised him. Only not quite. Up close this woman was softer, with more agreeable lines, as if she had been known to smile sincerely.

"You did what you thought right," she said. "You knew that Melbah had always deceived you and that her word was not to be trusted. You assumed I would take advantage of General Reilly's trust. You are a boy; you thought as a boy does. Make a witch harmless and she will not harm you or those you love. It is an old recipe, long believed. To truly follow the recipe calls for the witch's complete destruction. In order to destroy a witch you have to believe in her malevolence."

"I--I did," Phillip agreed.

"And now you don't?" Her voice was soft, not unfriendly.

"I--don't know. I guess if you want to harm us, you can."

"I'm glad that you are not so certain. Come, the three of you. There is someone in the glen you will want to see."

"The other witch," Phillip said.

"Yes, you might say that," Helbah said agreeably. "But she is no stranger to any of you. I think, Phillip, that you are going to be surprised to learn exactly who she is."

Phillip got to his feet, wiped blood from his mouth, and followed Helbah. As his feet found their way he now and then looked over at St. Helens and Mor Crumb. These big men, these strong men, were at least as bewildered as he.

In the glen, near the large tree with the flat crystal set in its big bole, lovely Charlain stretched out her arms as though to long-lost children or her dearest friends. Charlain? Kelvin's mother? A witch? Now indeed a lot about this mysterious roundear bubbled up from the bottom of his brain and drifted into place. The Roundear of Prophecy had a mother who had powers and was now using them to fulfill her son's destiny! But against Kelvinia rather than for? How could that be? Was she too bewitched?

"Phillip, St. Helens, General Crumb," Charlain said, "as you now must realize it is our old enemy that we have to fight. Zoanna and the man who appears to be but isn't King Rufurt now control Kelvinia. Every soldier, whether Kelvinia, Herman, or a mercenary from Throod, has been deceived. Each of you has been tricked similarly. Klingland and Kance are not the enemy, though they are the kingdom you fight."

"I know we were bewitched by her," Mor said. "But you, Charlain--a witch?"

"A necessary recruit, I'm afraid," Helbah said. "Charlain had the talent and I had need for it. Fortunately for all of us she learned quickly and well."

"There's something else," Charlain said. "My son Kelvin is here now, back in this frame and not far from where we stand. I saw him in the crystal."

"Then we're saved!" Mor Crumb said. "The Roundear will make everything right. He'll win this war, and--"

"You forget that the real war is inside Kelvinia," Helbah said.

"Yes, yes, of course," Mor said. "He'll get them out of the palace before you can say scat! Burn wicked Zoanna as she deserves! Burn the impostor king as well!"

"No," Charlain said. "Not immediately, anyhow. There's something more important he has to do."

"More important," Mor asked incredulously, "than destroying the former queen of Rud and the former king from the other place? More important than stopping the fighting?"

"Yes. Far more important. I have consulted the cards and the cards have never lied to me. There's a nodule, a crisis point. Either he fulfills this subsidiary task promptly and without fail or this fighting will not end and the prophecy will never be fulfilled. For the good of all of us and the eventual fulfillment of the prophecy he has to do what his mother tells him. Each of you, understanding or not, must help me to that end."

They stared at her, amazed, but hardly doubting her.

Kelvin, urged on by Mervania Chimaera's thoughts, walked slowly down the road that led to the glen. Ahead of him, prancing, flicking its tail, looking back with a come-along expression every now and then was a huge black houcat.

I'm getting into trouble, Kelvin thought. I really can't trust the chimaera. It's putting me right into the hands of the witch!

When have you not been in trouble, stupid mortal! Mervania responded almost affectionately. And why would I want to have you in the hands of a witch?

To make a deal, maybe. As you did with me.

And that you haven't yet delivered on! Be brave, little hero, and use some sense!

That's all right for you to think, Mervania. You don't have to face a witch!

You faced me, Kelvin. Do you honestly think a witch could be worse than I am?

No! Nothing's worse than a chimaera!

I'm glad you realize it. And remember, I'm right here in your thoughts, protecting my interests.

Kelvin wondered if he could possibly comprehend the chimaera's interests. He tried not to project the thought or call it to the chimaera's attention. The creature was a puzzle! Compared to the chimaera, dragons and witches were quite comprehensible. Thank you, Kelvin.

Ahead he could see five people waiting. Two women, two big men, and one large boy or man like himself. Was one of those witches really his mother?

Do you doubt me, Kelvin? The thought had a tinge of menace.

Kelvin felt chastised. Focusing mainly on the houcat's constantly flicking tail he was only gradually becoming aware that the fog was lifting. He could have flown this distance in half the time with less internal agony, but the chimaera had decreed walk.

You may fly now, if you wish.

Thanks a lot! If the monster caught the irony, fine! He touched the button in his buckle, pressed it in and rose to the height of a horse's back. He nudged the forward lever and floated down the road, the houcat still ahead. He accelerated ever so little and he was there.

They were there. St. Helens in prisoner clothes, Mor Crumb in worn and filthy general's uniform. Phillip, the former king of Aratex, in filthy common clothes. A short, smiling woman who looked astonishingly like Melbah, the witch he had caused to burn. And, most surprising of all, a woman who appeared to be his mother.

"Come down, Kelvin," his mother said. "We have to talk."

It was as if she said "Come down from that tree" or "Get off from that woodpile." Could this be his mother, and wasn't there anything he could do that would surprise her?

Kelvin descended to the ground and deactivated his belt. This whole scene was strange, but his mother seemed to be the spokesperson here.

"Kelvin, we're all glad to see you. Come here!" Her arms went wide as he took a step forward.

Could this be some cunning illusion, designed to make him walk blithely into a trap?

If you don't trust your mother, trust me, Mervania thought with a certain amused disgust. I want those dragonberries. Do you think I will allow you to be trapped before I get them?

That satisfied him. A moment later Charlain was hugging him hard, as a mother long deprived must hug her son. He relaxed, all doubt gone that it was really her.

"What's this?" she asked, touching the copper sting on his back.

"A chimaera's sting, Mother."

"I thought it might be. Good, you hold on to that! Someday it may prove important."

Kelvin swallowed. Mom was so practical sometimes! No questions like "What's a chimaera?" or "How did you ever come by it?" Just instant, practical acceptance.

The other woman spoke--the witch who looked like Melbah. "Charlain, you must show him."

"Yes, I suppose I ought to. Come, Son, over to this tree, over to this crystal. Now what I'm going to show you may be a shock. Please be brave, Son; I know you can be."

"Mom, I just want to get rid of Zoanna and return home to my wife!" Kelvin protested.

Listen to her, you idiot! Mervania snapped. You won't like this.

Again, Kelvin found himself placing more credence in the monster than in his mother. He went with Charlain to the tree. What was going on?

Charlain's fingers stretched out and there was a tiny spark that danced between her fingers and then from her fingertips to the crystal. Suddenly the crystal was a window on a distant scene, as other magic crystals had been.

A madwoman stared and gibbered, crouching in a corner. On her wrists and ankles were chains. She was naked and grotesquely pregnant, as though she were set to deliver not a child but a colt. Her skin had a coppery sheen. Her dark, sunken eyes stared right at him. She screamed. Why was this madwoman being shown to him? Why was she screaming like that, as though she saw him? "KELVIN!" the imaged woman screamed. She knew his name! This pathetic, mad, pregnant woman saw him and knew his name!

Suddenly the features of the woman became preternaturally clear. That chin, that nose, those facial contours, those round ears! "Heln!" he said incredulously. "Heln?" For how could such a horror be possible?