L. Camp: The Exotic Enchanter

“Votsy! We were both right! We need to combine the verbal elements of the sound magic with the somatic elements of the spell you used . . . and watch the decimal point.”

Shea quickly placed another stone on the table and began making wild passes with his hands. The Czech finally figured out what he was trying to do and soon they were both making passes and chanting. Their voices reached a crescendo, then,

WHUMP!

A very startled naked man appeared on the tabletop. Belphehe and the spirits cheered. Snag grabbed the Czech and the two danced around the cave. Soon an assembly line was set up. One by one, Shea and Polacek converted the stones back to men, the spirits clothed them, and Snag and Belphebe armed and organized them. By evening the cave was packed with hundreds of ex-rock sailors.

Harold leaned hack in his chair and asked, “How many stones did you gather, Votsy?” The spirits arrived with more wine.

“I dunno, maybe a couple thousand.”

* * *

By the end of the third day, the last stone had been turned. They even restored the bullfrog, who proved to be a businessman from Venice. He was very grateful, just the same. And after that the stone that Harold duplicated produced a pair of twins who had never seen each other before. The crowd had overflowed the spirit cave and a tent city sprang up on the hillside.

In the days that followed, Belphebe sorted out the men most adept at archery, and organized a contingent of missile troops. The rest of the men were armed with assorted spears, swords, clubs, and even rocks. Most of the ships passengers requested assignment to the ambulance corps.

All seemed well with the world until Ariel returned to the cave for the first time since he had escaped from the service of the witch. He had been keeping an eye on Sycorax waiting for the right moment to return, he explained. And the news he bore was grave indeed. The witch and her goblins were on the march again, and now there were more goblins than he had ever seen before.

By the time the ragtag sailor army was ready to march, the goblins had already crossed the mudflats and were coming up the valley heading straight for the spirit cave. Fortunately, the spirits had gathered more eagle feathers and, on a restored two-seater, Shea and Belphebe flew a reconnaissance mission. They, too, were shocked at the number of goblins to be seen in the valley below.

“There must be ten thousand of them down there,” Shea complained as they circled back to their own lines.

“Our cause is just, Harold,” Belphebe said reassuringly.

The army was deployed in a wide arc across the valley in front of the cave, Belphebe’s archers and the best spearmen massed behind the line as a reserve.

As the goblin forces approached, a silence fell over all. Suddenly a bolt of lightning from Sycorax crashed into a tree near Shea and the goblins rushed forward. Just as their ranks reached the spirit army, Belphebe’s archers fired a volley into the air. The goblin center disintegrated. On the two flanks, however, the armies came together and were soon locked in fearsome melee.

Shea took Belphebe up on the broom, and he cruised up and down the enemy line while she picked off goblin leaders with well-aimed shots. Sycorax was no dummy however, and soon caught on. Each time they whizzed out from behind the trees she popped lightning bolts at them. A near miss singed the feathers on their tail, rendering the broom sluggish and unresponsive. Shea beat a hasty retreat to the safety of terra firma.

Meanwhile the battle raged and the press of the goblin army was overwhelming. The spirit forces were falling back. At this rate, it was apparent that the witch would soon drive them all into the sea. Shea pulled Belphebe aside and told her to continue the fight; he had a plan and would return. He held her in his arms for a brief parting kiss and then flew off, alone, on his broom.

Shea stayed low, zooming over the treetops till he was out of sight of the goblin army, then turned south for the only smoking volcano on the island. That had to be the Firemount mentioned by Malovio. He was not sure how he would do it, but he intended to enlist the aid of the fire drake. As he cruised in for a landing outside of the volcano, the place seemed mysteriously empty. Small wonder! Every able-bodied goblin had gone to war. A moan caught his ears as he searched the base of the mountain for an enhance.

There on a rope, hanging upside down from a dead tree was none other than Malovio. “You seem to spend a lot of time hanging by your feet. How do you manage to do this?” Shea remarked as he cut the hapless goblin down.

Malovio rubbed his ankles. “ ’Tisn’t easy, I assure you. Many thanks, Harold. It might well be because I refused to serve.”

Shea asked about the way to the fire drake.

“’Tis on the other side of the mountain,” said the goblin, already backing away toward the cover of the undergrowth.

Shea grabbed Malovio by his ragged collar and pulled the monster onto the broom. The goblin eyed it with terror and struggled to escape. “I must away . . .” But Harold dragged him astride the stick. In a flash he chanted the words and they were airborne. The goblin wailed as they flew rapidly around the base of the mountain. Suddenly Malovio recovered and pointed to the ground. Shea noted a large cave and eased the broom through the dark entrance. They landed and dismounted in silence.

“Thou wouldst strain our friendship!” complained the goblin. “Release me forthwith!”

“I’m sorry, old boy, but this is a life or death emergency; I have to find the fire drake,” Shea said as he nudged Malovio with his elbow. The goblin led on, into the cavern. “Say, I thought you said you used to work for this drake?” Malovio grunted noncommittally. “If that’s so,” Harold continued, “how come you’re so afraid to go near him?”

The goblin turned and grinned sheepishly. “Perhaps I portray’d him a bit too fondly. Twas the drake’s custom to consume a goodly number of our kind upon awakening.”

They came upon a deserted guard station, replete with a supply of dusty weapons and torches. Both took a torch and lit it on a burning lamp. Shea pushed his unwilling companion forward. The cavern was wide and tall, large enough, Shea imagined, to let the drake pass. They came to a place where the tunnel split off in two directions. Malovio became even more nervous, if that was possible, and hopped back and forth from one foot to another. He was obviously going no farther.

“The path to the left!” the goblin cried, as he flung his torch against the wall and ran full speed back the way he had come. Shea started after the rascal, but the peril that Belphebe faced flashed before his eyes and he turned back. There was no time to spare.

Shaking his head over Malovio, Harold hurried along the corridor to the left. The path wound steeply downward. The echoes of his footsteps made him keenly aware of the great size of the tunnel, Some minutes and many tiresome footsteps later, the cave opened into a vast chamber. The torch was too weak to light the far side. Shea cautiously tiptoed as best he could across the room, through a crunchy layer of ashes and cinders.

He blinked. A great black mass loomed in front of him. What he first took to be a rock wall was actually the enormous bulk of the sleeping fire drake. Time for action.

Quietly, Shea backed away, then knelt down and constructed a rough model of the drake out of cinders. In a quiet whisper, he began to chant:

“Great beast of fire, whose council you keep,

Friend of lord Surt, from under whose eyes,

I bid thee awaken, from Sycorax’s sleep,

Unto my command, now serve me. . . . Arise!”

Shea fell silent. For a moment, nothing happened, then the great mound that was the fire drake rose and fell in a rumbling deep sigh. Years of accumulated rocks and dust tumbled off the top of the beast. Two glowing orange eyes popped open and stared into Shea’s soul.