Yon Ill Wind (14 page)

Read Yon Ill Wind Online

Authors: Piers Anthony

Tags: #Humor, #Fantasy, #Science Fiction, #Young Adult

Nimby sat in a vacant seat.  David was pleased to see that he was now looking at Chlorine in much the way Sean was:  surreptitiously but persistently.  He was learning.

“Uh-oh,” Dad muttered in an ominous tone.

David peered ahead.  There was a barricade with a sign DETOUR.  A troll stood by it, wearing a glowing helmet.

Dad drew up to the troll.  “Where does the detour go?”

he asked.

“Back to the tall hassle grove, which is safer during the storm.”

“But we have to get to Imp Erial before nightfall,” Dad protested.

“The trollway may be impassable.  There is flooding, making it unsafe.”

“Suppose we are willing to risk it?”

The troll stared dourly at him.  “You may proceed at your own risk.  We will not be responsible for your safety.”

“But the road remains enchanted?  We can't be attacked on it?”

“The path remains enchanted.  But water goes where it will.  The flood could cause you mischief regardless of the enchantment.”

“Understood.  We'll proceed.”

“Fool,” the troll muttered, and stood aside.

“You're probably right,” Dad agreed, driving forward.

David looked out.  “What's that building, shaped like a huge bottle?”

Chlorine looked.  “Oh, that's a whinery.”

Sean laughed.  “A winery shaped like a bottle!  It figures.”

Meanwhile the RV was forging through increasingly tempestuous rain.  Colored fluid streamed across the windows and splashed up in fleeting rainbow patterns.  Mist from it drifted in the open slits of the almost-closed windows.

Then some of that water seemed to get into David's eyes, for they were flowing.  He was crying—and he didn't know why.  He looked blearily around, and saw tears in the eyes of all of them except Nimby.  Even Dad was blowing his nose.  What was going on?

“Did we just drive through an onion field?” Karen asked tearfully.

“I see a sign,” Mom said.  “It says we are coming to the Crimea River.”

“Cry me a river,” Chlorine repeated.  “That explains it.

The whinery must use that water for its whine.  But we must have crossed it on the way up.  Why didn't we cry then?”

“It wasn't flooding then,” Dad replied.  “I saw the water passing low under the bridge.  We were past it before we got a whiff of it.”

The vehicle slowed again.  David saw why:  they had reached the flood.  Tear-colored water surged across the road.  It looked too deep and swift to drive through.

“I don't understand how this flooded so deeply, so quickly,” Dad said.  “There was ample clearance below the bridge.  It has been raining, but there has not been time to raise the water level twenty feet.”

Nimby wrote a note.  He gave it to David, who read it to the others.  “Nimby says the goblins have dammed the river just off the enchanted right-of-way.  That's why it backed up so fast.”

“Goblins!  I should have known.  Do we have any way to handle this?”

Nimby wrote another note.  “ “This's why I fetched the new, clear cherry bombs,' “ David read.  “ “They will destroy the dam, so the water will newly clear the road.' “

“But won't the goblins attack us when we go there?”

Mom asked worriedly.

“ 'Not if we remain within the enchanted path, and float the cherries down to the dam,' “ David read.

“But the cherries might go right over the dam before they explode,” Sean said.  “We'll have to use a rope to put them in place.”

“Let's get to it,” Dad said.  At that point the rain eased, becoming only a light, windy drizzle.  Dad, Mom, Nimby, Chlorine, and Sean got out.  “You kids stay put,” Sean called back insultingly.

They sat in the open doorway in the side of the RV and watched the adults depart.  Colored mists were rising from the landscape, making a pretty vertical pattern.

There was the cheerful clangor of a bell.  “Hey, I want to see that,” Karen exclaimed, jumping out of the RV.  “It sounds like a cowbell.”

“Hey, we're not supposed to go anywhere,” David reminded her.  “It's dangerous.”

“On the enchanted path?  Pooh.” She ran on back along the road, following the music of the bell.  She liked bells, and just had to see any that she heard.  Tweeter was perched on her hair, chirping warningly, but she ignored him.

David was torn between running after her and staying put.  He compromised.  “Go after her.  Woofer, and make sure she's safe.”

“Woof!” the dog agreed, and bounded out.

Then David heard the beat of a drum.  It was a powerful, throbbing sound that seemed to penetrate to the very center of his head.  What kind of drum was making it?  David liked drums, because they made a lot of noise with little effort.

Before he knew it, David was walking toward the sound.

But Midrange ran after him.  “Meow!” the cat screeched warningly.

That jolted David back into responsibility.  He was doing the same thing Karen was, running after the first intriguing sound.  That was dangerous, because it was coming from the side, off the enchanted path.  So he stopped.  But he did pause long enough to peer in the direction of the sound, hoping to see the drum from here.

He was successful:  it was in the shape of a huge ear.  It was an ear drum!  No wonder it had such power over his own ears.

He picked Midrange up and walked slowly back to the RV.  He hoped Karen wouldn't go off the enchanted path.

But she was a child; her judgment wasn't good.

The bell rang again.  Surely she had seen it by now, and should have returned.  Where was she?

Finally he could stand it no longer.  “I gotta find her,” he said.  “Midrange, you stay here and tell the folks where I am, if they come back before we do.” The cat nodded and stretched out on the floor by the door.

David ran in the direction of the bell.  Soon he found it, a cow with a clapper, ringing as it walked.  A cow bell.

What else?  But Karen wasn't there.  She must have gone on beyond.  Foolish girl!

He spied a big orange apelike creature wearing a placard saying UTAN.  Was it dangerous?  This thing looked so comical that maybe it was harmless.  “Hey, Utan—have you seen my stupid little sister?” he asked it.

The thing paused, then pointed the way David was going.  So David ran on.  Only after he was well beyond the creature did he realize what it must be:  an orange utan.

He saw a cat.  “Hey, I told you to stay in the RV!” he cried, advancing on it.  The cat turned its face toward him.

Then David realized that it wasn't Midrange.  It was a strange cat—very strange.  It wore a flat-brimmed hat and a vest with the word ION on front.  “Oh—sorry,” David said, embarrassed.  “I thought you were my cat.”

The cat stared witheringly at him and stalked off.  Then David realized its nature:  it was a cat-ion, probably headed for a catamount or catboat.  “He must be going to get positively charged, before he lynx up with friends,” David muttered as he went on.  This business of punning was infectious.

There was still no sign of Karen.  He was very much afraid she had wandered off the enchanted path.  Should he go and tell Mom?  That would surely get him in trouble for ever letting Karen get in trouble, though.

Something came flying though the air.  David ducked, afraid it was going to hit him, but it sailed on by.  He got a good glimpse of it as it passed.  It looked like a painting.

Then another flew by, and a third.  What was going on?

But a moment's thought brought the answer:  “Artillery,” he said.  “Someone's hurling art at me.”

“Kaa-ren!” he called.  “KAA-RENN!” There was no answer.  Not even a woof.  This was not a good sign.

He continued searching, but Karen was nowhere he could see.  That meant she must have gone off the enchanted path.  Which meant in turn that he couldn't wait any longer; he had to get help in a hurry.

He turned and ran back to the RV, half-afraid he would discover it gone.  But it remained, as solid and reassuring as ever.  Midrange remained on guard.  “Anyone come back?” he asked the cat, and received a shake of the head.

Well, at least that meant he would be able to report his disaster himself, instead of seeming to be caught like a fleeing rat.  For whatever slight good that might do him.

“Where are the others?” he asked.

Midrange got up and came to him.  David picked him up and set him on his shoulder, his normal riding position.

“Meove llefft.”

David bore left, following the course of the flooded river.  Now that he was closer to it, his eyes were tearing.

He couldn't stop them, so he just kept blinking to clear his vision.  Soon he came to Mom, who was watching Sean tie a framework fashioned of driftwood together.  Mom was holding the cherry branch somewhat nervously, and tears were streaming down her face.  His own eyes had been flowing, but he had ignored it after the first few minutes.

Beyond them the rushing river had pooled into a small lake, with what looked like a dam fashioned from brush and junk.

David hesitated to give her his news; she might drop the branch.  So he sort of slid by it.  “Mom, there's a problem.  Where's Dad?”

It didn't work.  “What problem?” she demanded sharply, turning her swollen eyes on him.

David wiped his eyes on his sleeve.  “I, ah, Karen went out, and—”

“Out alone?” Her voice was getting shrill.  That was not a good sign.

“Woofer and Tweeter went with her.”

“Jim!” she called imperatively.

There was no answer.  But then Chlorine and Nimby appeared.  “He's spying on the goblins,” Chlorine reported through her bleary visage.  Her eyes looked as if they were trying to cry, but not succeeding, so they were turning red instead.  It probably felt like dry heaves.  “If he calls, they'll know he's there.  Can we take a message?”

Mom considered.  “No.  Maybe you can help another way.  Karen is lost.  Could you find her?”

“Oh, sure.  Nimby will know where she is.” She turned  to Nimby, who alone had no trouble with his eyes.  “She's all right?”

Nimby nodded.

“Then let's get there in a hurry.  You turn dragon, and I'll run along behind you.  She knows what we look like, so she won't be frightened.”

Nimby became the weird dragon, and they ran off in Karen's direction.

Mom turned to David.  “You let her go?” There was ice in her tone despite the tears in her eyes.  He wondered whether Tier tears were freezing into sleet as they fell.

“She wouldn't stop for me.  Mom,” he pleaded tearfully.  “She heard this cow bell, and she just went.”

Mom nodded.  “That is the way she is,” she agreed, sniffing.  Then she smiled, tightly.  So she wasn't blaming him.  Nevertheless, David felt guilty.

“David, I don't want to go anywhere while I'm guarding the cherries,” Mom said in a moment.  “Would you go carefully and see if you can see what your father is doing?”

“ Sure.” He walked in the direction Chlorine and Nimby had come from.  Soon he saw Dad—surrounded by ugly , little manlike creatures with big heads and big feet:  goblins.  They had spied him, and he was probably off the enchanted path, because they were closing in purposefully.

“Dad!” David cried.  “Watch out!” But it was too late.

The goblins burst across the last little distance, and swarmed all over Dad.  He tried to fight them off, but he was a physics prof, not a warrior, and they were many.  In a moment they had him helpless.

David knew he had to do something, but he didn't know what.  The goblins were carrying Dad away.  There were too many of them for anyone to fight.  Dad should never have gone beyond the limit of the enchanted path.  Just as Karen shouldn't have.  Did the goblins have her too?

Nimby could have warned him—but Nimby was off fetching Karen.  Because David hadn't stopped her from leaving the RV.

“Mom!  Sean!” he cried, running back.  “They've got Dad!”

“Oh!” Mom exclaimed, looking faint.

“One chance,” Sean said grimly as he blinked away his tears.  “This notation's too slow.  Give me the bombs.”

Mom handed the branch of cherries to him.  Her eyes were staring as well as tearing; David had never seen her so distraught.

“See if you can distract the goblins from me,” Sean  said.  He walked purposefully toward the dam.

“From you?  Not from Dad?”

“Right.  Do it.”

Sean seemed to know what he was doing, so David did his best.  He started running and screaming and waving his arms.  “Hey, goblins!” he cried.  “You can't catch meeee!”

“David!” Dad called, spying him despite his own distress.  Parents were like that.  “Get back on the enchanted path!”

But David didn't.  He was terrified, but he had to distract the goblins, and this was the only way he knew how.  So he made an Adult Conspiracy gesture at them and ran on.

It probably looked like a mere bleep to them, but it did stir them up.  They charged after him.

Unfortunately, goblins turned out to be swifter runners than he had figured.  They could run faster than he could!

He dodged and ducked, but soon they caught up and laid their grubby hands on him.  Instead of rescuing Dad, he had gotten himself caught.  Some help he had been.

“What possessed you to do that?” Dad demanded as the goblins hauled them together.

“Silence, morsels!” the goblin chief cried, wiping his eyes.  “Or we'll cook you slow instead of fast.”

Cook them?  Suddenly David realized just how awful a fate they faced.  All because he had let Karen get loose, then had taken Nimby away from helping Dad, so that Dad got caught by the goblins.  David deserved to be cooked!

There was a deafening BOOM behind them, followed by a great rushing sound.

“The dam!” a goblin screamed.  “The dam went!”

Sean had blown the dam!  He must have gotten close while the goblins were distracted, and thrown the cherry branch on it.  Now the water was bursting out and down— and the goblins were below it.  The great frothing surge of it was already bearing down on them.  They let man and boy go, and fled.

“Run for the road, son!” Dad cried.

For sure!  They ran together through the flying froth, while the goblins ran the opposite way, fleeing the water.

The goblins weren't being smart; they had panicked.  Or maybe the water represented more of a danger to them, because they were so much shorter than human beings.

Other books

Cursed in the Act by Raymond Buckland
Thunder and Roses by Mary Jo Putney
Dion: His Life and Mine by Anstey, Sarah Cate
The Chocolate War by Robert Cormier
The Driver by Alexander Roy
Amish Confidential by Lebanon" Levi Stoltzfus
The Belly of Paris by Emile Zola
Prophecy by Sharon Green
The Ritual Bath by Faye Kellerman