L. Camp - The Exotic Enchanter

Belphebe patted her mount’s ivory haunch and smiled at her husband. “Here’s a guide you may hold.” she said, indicating the unicorn’s tail. “Or wouldst conjure yourself a r . . . rynossery as you did in Loselwood?”

Harold winced, recalling the rhino he had accidentally summoned for a mount in Faerie. Quite handy at the time, but this situation didn’t really call for a Sherman tank. But if he changed the spell a little bit . . .

“Not a bad idea. Hang on a minute, ladies,” said Shea. “I don’t intend to stumble around in the dark holding on to a unicorns tail!” He stepped over to the stream. Using wet sand, he quickly fashioned a crude model of a horse’s head, leaving out the stick for a horn that had once brought him a rhino. Shea crouched over his handiwork, gesturing as he recited:

“Oh, steed that feeds on reeds,

And drinks the whirlpool’s surge,

In the name of the horse of Ceres,

I conjure you now; emerge!

He paused a moment, immersed in deep thought, and then continued:

“Strong, yet of me subservient,

Bring a horse without a horn,

Up from this small river,

I conjure you . . . be born!

The model and the stream nearby burst into a cloud of spray and sand. Harold figured the horse of Ceres would have to be some sort of plowhorse. As the spray fell to the ground a deep grunt revealed that his magic had succeeded . . . to a certain degree.

Staring at him blankly from the stream was a small but full-grown hippopotamus!

Belphebe burst into laughter. Shea winced. There was no turning back now. So he’d summoned a hippo; well, he’d ride a hippo! Besides, it was supposed to be subservient. Shea stepped back and leaped onto the animal’s back. The enormous creature let out a basso profundo yelp and began waddling rapidly downstream.

Shea bounced around spread-eagled on the broad back and hung on for dear life, the memory of his ride on the bull rhino flashing before his eyes. There must be some way to control this thing!

Belphebe, Bitter-Root, and the fire disappeared behind him. The hippo seemed to be picking up speed. Between its bouncy gait and slippery skin, it was all he could to stay on top. Shea yelled out commands: “Stop! Turn right! Turn left!” He kicked the rotund beast with his heels, but to no avail. The hippo continued its mad, thunderous flight splashing and jouncing down the stream.

In desperation Shea grabbed the hippo’s head and pulled hard on the right ear. The animal slowed and circled in that direction until it was pointed back upstream. Its manner now docile, it waddled back the way it had come until they reached the dying campfire. Shea pulled hard on both ears and the hippo opened its mouth, belched out a loud grunt, and came to a halt.

“Piece of cake!” Shea said triumphantly. “Any time you’re ready, ladies.”

His wife chuckled and Bitter-Root shook her head in amazement. Her gossamer wings fluttered silently and she took to the air. Belphebe followed on her unicorn. Now that he was unobserved Shea breathed a sigh of relief and wiped the sweat from his forehead. He was not sure how to get his bus started again. Cautiously, he kicked the immense creature with his heels. The hippo came to life and plodded slowly after the unicorn.

They were traveling in the dark of early morning, and Shea could barely make out the ghostly forms of his companions in the starlight that filtered through the frees. Fortunately, the hippo seemed to be dogging the unicorn’s steps and required no steering at all.

They worked their way uphill, following the stream for some time. At last Belphebe’s mount and Bitter-Root stayed alongside the stream. Whenever possible, the hippo preferred to splash noisily through the water, soaking Shea from head to toe.

Just as the purple light of dawn could be seen through the tops of the trees, they turned from the stream and headed into a narrow, tree-covered valley. It was moist and overgrown with ferns, and the air was filled with a pleasant musty odor. Shea noticed that Bitter-Root had been joined by two globes of amber light, floating silently beside her.

The foliage closed in around them, leaving barely enough room on the trail for his wide-bodied mount. Soon, however, the vegetation gave way to rock and the trail widened. The odd procession came to a halt, and the hippo grunted restively.

Bitter-Root was now surrounded by several mysterious floating balls of colored light. She turned and spoke, “Seest thou here, this is the mouth of our cell, and these,” indicating the lights, are my fairy friends. Your animals will come no further. Pray dismount and release them.”

Belphebe hopped down in one graceful motion. Shea slid off the hippo clumsily but managed to land on both feet. Belphebe was whispering into the unicorn’s ear. Shea slapped his river horse on the rump and said: “Farewell, Horatio!” The beast let out a series of low bleats and waddled off into the morning. The unicorn circled cautiously around Shea and trotted off after the hippo. III

They entered the mouth of a limestone cavern. More phosphorescent fairies appeared, casting a dim but pleasant glow on the walls of the rock chamber.

“I’ll bet this saves on your electric bill.” said Shea as they set out again by fairy light. Bitter-Root led them on, escorted by her amber friends. Fairies of several shades of green floated around Belphebe, while Shea’s path was lit by a solitary red globe.

“We spirits are not by choice dwellers of the earth,” said Bitter-Root. She had turned to face Harold and Belphebe and was flying effortlessly backward into the cave. ’Tis said Setebos himself liv’d here in times bygone. Yet now we come and are safe from the witch’s fury.”

The spirit flew up to a ledge above them and tossed down a rope ladder. “I fear you must climb, where I would fly.” Shea wondered who needed a rope ladder when all the inhabitants seemed capable of flight. Climbing up the ladder behind his wife, Harold noticed sadly what the short time spent in this world had done to Belphebe’s expensive dress. She had tied what little remained of it around her hips.

They walked along the ledge and then turned into a smaller tunnel. This new passage sloped down and was joined by two side tunnels, which branched in from above. Bitter-Root continued on, and soon they found themselves in an enormous room illuminated by hundreds of glowing fairies. The roof was covered by stalactites which merged with stalagmites around the edges to form thick multicolored columns that shimmered in the fairy glow.

As Shea looked about him, he suddenly noticed Polacek on the far side of the room, seated at a thick wooden table across from a swarthy, dark-haired man. They were playing a game of chess.

Vaclav spotted the new arrivals, “Hi ya Harold, Belphebel Welcome to Fairyland.” The dark than twisted his thick black beard between his fingers, studying the chessboard intently. “This is Snag, a sailor, late of Naples,” Polacek continued. “You’ll have to forgive him for not sayin’ hello. We’re playing timed moves, and there’s a hot bet going.”

Sitting cross-legged on the table, watching the game, was a male spirit. He motioned to Shea and Belphebe. “Come, be seated and partake of our wine!” Bitter-Root had already drifted over to the table and was filling two goblets. “My name is Moonwort.” The male spirit flew up from the table effortlessly and landed in front of Belphebe with a deep bow. “I am blest in your acquaintance.” He turned to Shea. “Master Pollychek hath told how you have come from so far to our aid.”

Harold shot the Czech a meaningful glare on hearing this news, but Vaclav quickly averted his eyes. As the newcomers sat down, Snag made an unintelligible sound, moved a piece, and turned a small hourglass on the table. “Your go, Polish.” The sailor then turned, grabbed Shea’s hand, and shook It heartily. “All hail, great master. Your reputation doth precede you. Now shall we make short work of that miserable Sycorax!” The sailor had paws the size of baseball mitts.