L. Camp - The Exotic Enchanter

Shea struggled to his knees, and was shocked to see himself surrounded by a herd of enormous twenty-foot lizards, each one with two silly-looking horns sucking out its nose. They began to waddle awkwardly off into the midst of the battle, looking something like iguanas made up to resemble dinosaurs in a low-budget Hollywood movie. Oh well, thought Shea, not exactly rhinos, but they certainly looked fearsome.

He ran back to Belphebe’s side.

“Marry, Harold, but those are the strangest creatures you have yet summoned!” she said calmly, as she let loose her last arrow at a retreating goblin. Already the witch’s forces were dropping their arms and fleeing in the face of huge horned lizards.

A great cheer rose up from the remnants of the army of sailors as the beasts began choking down incredible numbers of goblins. The tide of battle had indeed turned. Soon a group of goblins came forward waving a shabby white rag on the end of a stick and surrendered to Snag. Sycorax herself disappeared over the hillside under a puff of green smoke. Shea wanted to pursue her, but now there was the problem of how to stop the reptilian eating machines he had set into motion, for the beasts showed no sign of recognizing any sort of armistice or surrender from the goblins. Polacek was at his side.

“Quick, Votsy, find a counterspell in that book. We’ve got to stop these dinosaurs.”

“No problem, chief!” The Czech thumbed quickly to a page and began waving his left hand in a broad series of sweeps while muttering something under his breath. To Harold’s amazement, moments later the herd of giant lizards vaporized into clouds of harmless smoke.

Shea slapped his companion on the back. “Hey, well done! Doc Chalmers will be proud of you if we ever figure out how to get back home.”

Polacek puffed out his chest proudly then bowed ceremoniously. “Vaclav Polacek, Interplanar Mage, at your service.”

The rest of the afternoon was spent rounding up and securing the goblins who had surrendered, tending to the wounded, and burying the dead. Moonwort led Shea and Polacek to the tree to which Quamoclit was pinned. The weapon had missed vital parts, only catching her wing. After several tries, it was the Czech who freed her from the tree. She was most appreciative and planted a powerful kiss on her rescuers lips.

“Phew! This is it, Harold, I’m staying here and marrying this babe.”

“Forget it, Votsy you two aren’t even the same species.”

“For this I’ll forgo offspring!” Quamoclit giggled and fluttered off into the woods.

“Hey, wait, honey, I meant it! Really!”

* * *

By evening the sailor army and its prisoners marched back to the spirit cave and the leaders held council. The sailors and the goblins were all anxious to get off the island, and the spirits more than willing to be rid of the lot. Various plans to achieve this were brought to Shea’s attention.

“Thy power of magicks is so great, surely the lot of us could simp’y be whisked away to our homes with hut a pass of thy hand.” A rich man from Verona was speaking.

“Nix on that option,” said Shea flatly. “That’s way beyond our powers. And besides, this island is the home of the goblins.”

“No more,” growled the one goblin leader who had been admitted to the conference. “We’re worse off with the damn’d witch than ever we were serving the drake. Those of us who remain alive are of one mind, and that is departure by any means.”

“This island is still rich with fine tall forests,” suggested Snag, “and among us are many skilled craftsmen. Perchance we might build ships to carry us off.” There was a general murmur of approval at this plan.

“But that could take years!” cried a voice in the back. A glimmer of an idea came to Shea and he snapped his fingers. “Maybe not. In my many and varied travels through different continuna I’ve had considerable experience conjuring up monsters and the like, as you all may well have noticed during the recent conflict.” The sailors mumbled approval and the goblin leader spat on the floor in disgust. “I think that with a bit of help from Master Snag here, I can provide you all with fine ships, ready for you tomorrow, and you may sail them wherever you want.” A cheer and applause came from those assembled. Harold pulled Snag aside before everyone retired and asked if he could carve a small model ship from a bit of wood. The sailor shrugged his shoulders, but agreed willingly. Next morning, Snag delivered the work and Shea carried his tiny hand-carved model down to the beach, with half the sailors in tow, He stopped at the water’s edge. The tide was obviously out, for the sand was littered with stranded jellyfish. Harold thanked his lucky stars; that was just what he needed if this scheme was to succeed. He placed the tiny carving that Snag had given him on the wet sand.

Several years back, he had been in Portsmouth, England, and visited HMS Victory . Admiral Nelson’s flagship at Trafalgar, still preserved in pristine condition. A few copies of the Victory ought to be more than enough to ferry the shipwrecked sailors and the displaced goblins away from the island. He began to chant:

“By Nelson, Hardy, Hornblower, and Bush,

England expects every man to do his duty,

An hundred Victories please come to me now

To carry the lost ones home beyond the sea.”

Shea winced at his terrible blank verse, if that was the word for it, but it was all that came instantly to mind, and hoped that blank verse worked as well as rhyme in this continuum. After all, Shakespeare had written a lot of it. He closed his eyes and began waving his hands in the manner which had once brought forth simulacra in the Kalevela .

The earth began to shake, and a blue-gray mist enshrouded the coastline. The sailors fell silent for a moment, then broke out into noisy hurrahs. Shea stood up slowly. There in the water before him were a hundred three-deck ships off the line, identical copies of the HMS Victory . Why on earth had he asked for a hundred when ten would have been enough? The damn decimal point again! A fleet this size would have ruled the world had it ever really existed in Napoleon’s time, Here in the world of The Tempes t it would be like a fleet of modem battleships suddenly thrust upon the Phoenicians.

The sailors to a man, including Snag, splashed out into the water and swam for the nearest ship. In no time they had climbed aboard and were lowering boats over the sides. They pulled for shore, and the first one to arrive carried an enthusiastic Snag, who jumped over the gunwale and slapped Harold on the back.

“No finer ships have ere been built by the craft of man! Thou hast given us the dreams upon which a sailor sleeps.” He was grinning from ear to ear.

“I — I’m glad you like them,” said Shea, at a loss for words.

“Incredible, Harold,” remarked Polacek who was eyeing the mighty fleet in amazement, “But don’t you think you overdid it?” A gleam suddenly came to the Czech’s eyes. “Ya know, with a fleet like that, we could conquer the world.”

“Don’t even think about it! Lets hope nobody else thinks of that possibility.” There was a lot of firepower afloat out there in those hundred gun ships.

“Seeing as how you conjured that navy up, d’ya think it’ll last . . . I mean long enough for them to get home?”

“Well, if we can keep the witch away from here, they should be okay. We haven’t heard from her since she disappeared in that cloud of smoke, and that worries me.”

But the witch did not return, that day or the next, and in that time captains were chosen and crews formed, and a steady stream of small boats ferried men and provisions out to the ships. The goblins were released and given fourteen ships of their own. They disappeared quickly over the horizon soon after they had set sail. Shea wondered how that was managed, since none of the goblins seemed to have had any nautical experience.