L. Camp: The Exotic Enchanter

The morning of the third day after the battle saw the final boatload of sailors making ready to leave. The spirits, Polacek Belphebe, and Shea were all there to bid Snag and his companions a final farewell.

“My heart goes out to you, Master Shea, and to you, Pollychek, for all the good you have done these days.” There was a tear in the burly sailor’s eye. He held Belphebe in his arms and hugged her gently. “Without you, we all had perished, mistress.”

“Fair winds, gentle Snag.” She kissed him on the cheek. Then the dark man could wait no longer. He tossed a canvas bag into the longboat and pushed it out into the low surf. The men put their backs to the oars, and the boat pulled quickly away. Shea stood with his arm around his wife and watched. The boat pulled a alongside a great ship, the sails filled with the wind, an the ship sped quickly away.

When Snag’s vessel had disappeared below the horizon, Belphebe turned to her husband. “Methinks ’tis time we, too, gave thoughts to home and our daughter.”

“You’re right as usual, darling. And I’m certain we have changed things enough here to satisfy my geas. Votsy, let me have a look at the book.” The Czech reached into his coat pocket but stopped with a start.

His eyes widened and his jaw fell open and he raised his arm and pointed.

Shea looked around. On the top of the hill stood Sycorax, smiling hideously, holding her crooked staff defiantly in the air.

Harold pulled Belphebe to him. A sudden bolt of lightning from the witch blasted the beach before them, sending up a stinging cloud of sand.

“Hold on to me, Belphebe . . . you too. Votsy.” Shea said desperately. “I’m going to try the spell Chalmers gave me to use on Dolon — brace yourselves.” He began to gesture wildly with his free hand as he mumbled the dangerous words of the incantation. It had worked before, destroying one of the most powerful magicians in the land of Faerie. It might work now, and destroy the witch . . . and possibly the three of them as well.

Shea finished the last words of the incantation, and the world turned gray. More sand stung Harold’s face and the entire beach empted in a terrific explosion.

The smoke cleared, revealing a scene of utter serenity. Gone was Sycorax, gone were the mounds where the bodies had been buried and the carcass of the fire drake.

Three bodies were sprawled on the beach behind some clumps of grass. One of them moved.

* * *

Shea groaned and pushed himself up on his elbows for a look around. What had happened? He reached over and touched Belphebe, who was just coming around, and saw Polacek, who was flat on his back mumbling something. Why weren’t they in Ohio?

Out on the beach he saw a bearded man pulling a small boat ashore. With him was a young girl. The boat crunched into the sand and the man jumped out, lifting his small companion out in one big swoop. The man looked around at the pristine beach and said to the girl: “What quiet and unspoil’d place is this. . . .”

Shea groaned. The man tossed his bundles on the beach and walked inland, holding the girl’s hand. Shea nudged Vaclav, who had crawled over to his side and was also watching.

“There’s your Miranda, Votsy, a five-year-old! D’you still want to nab her?”

Prospero stopped suddenly and bent down. He picked up a book and leafed through the pages with interest.

“Our book,” whispered Vaclav.

Prospero began bobbing back and forth as he read, motioning with his hands. He was reciting something which Shea could not quite understand. Suddenly the world around them turned gray and began to spin.

Pmft!

A whoosh of air made the curtains dance. Shea, Belphebe, and Polacek landed with a thump on the stage at the theater. The lights were dim and the seats were empty save for one man, who began to clap slowly. It was Reed Chalmers. He stopped the sarcastic applause and shook his head sadly.

Shea pulled Belphebe into his arms and swallowed her up in a great big mushy kiss.

“Hey, Doc,” said Polacek as he sat up, “I bet you didn’t know that one of those books in Prospero’s library came from the Garaden Institute, right here in Ohio!”