Roger Zelazny - Bring Me the Head of Prince Charming

"Thanks," Charming said. He dismounted. "That's really uncommon kind of you."

"But first," Parsifal said, "you will have to fight me for him."

"I was afraid there'd be a condition attached."

"Yes, there is. I see you have a Fairly Lucky Sword."

"I do," Charming said, drawing it and holding it out. "Nice, isn't it?"

"Nice," Parsifal agreed, "but of course it's not an En­chanted Sword like mine." He drew his own and showed it to Charming.

"I don't suppose," Charming said, "a sword like mine would be much good against a sword like yours."

"No, in all honesty, I don't think so," Parsifal said. "Fairly Lucky Swords aren't bad, but you can't expect much of them against a real Enchanted Sword."

"I didn't think so. Look, do we really have to fight?"

"I'm afraid we do," Parsifal said, and attacked.

Prince Charming jumped out of the way and swung his Fairly Lucky Sword. The two swords clanged together with an uncanny sound. This was succeeded by an even more uncanny sound when Prince Charming's blade broke.

"I win!" cried Parsifal, swinging up his Enchanted Sword for the death stroke. "Gawg!"

Charming thought he was finished, so he used his final seconds to think over his memories, which in his case didn't take very long.

But Charming's time on Earth was not quite up. Since his sword had been Fairly Lucky, and a very good example of its kind, it happened that when it broke, a single bright shard of metal had flown upward, penetrating Parsifal's throat, where the gorget revealed a fraction of an inch of flesh.

This was the cause of the "Gawg!" Parsifal voiced, before he fell to the earth with a thunderous sound.

"Sorry, but you asked for it," Charming said. He turned and moved away, figuring that someone else would be along after a while to bury the man.

"Take the handsome sword," a voice recommended.

"Who said that?" Charming asked.

"Me," Parsifal's sword explained. "Take the horse, too."

"Who are you?" Charming asked.

"They call me Excalibur," the sword said.

"What do they say about you?"

"Read my runes," the sword answered.

Charming took up the sword and looked at its gleaming blade. Sure enough, there were runes engraved there, though he couldn't understand them. He looked at the sword with respect and said, "Why did you speak to me?"

"I'm not supposed to," the sword admitted. "But I couldn't just let you walk away and leave me. I'll be out of work, and I love my work. You'll find me very useful. If anyone gives you trouble, they'll have me to answer to."

As Charming turned toward the horse, "Hold, sir!" cried the maiden, rising from her semirecumbent position upon the earth. "I beg thee succor me, by thy knightly oath."

Not recalling any oaths of a knightly sort, Charming never­theless replied, "What sort of succor did you have in mind?"

"I am a Valkyrie," she explained, "and this man over­powered me on a battlefield by feigning death to lure me near. I can only go home to Walhall now if I summon the Rainbow Bridge and have a suitable trophy to take with me. Can you help me locate my horn, which he appropriated?"

"That seems easy enough," Charming replied, "especially if it's the slughorn I blew on my approach. Is that it hanging from the standard by the tent?"

"Indeed it is," she replied, crossing to it, raising it to her lips, and winding it in an eerie fashion.

Instantly, the end of a rainbow fell from the sky, barely missing Charming.

"Thank you, good sir," she stated, commencing to gather Parsifal's armor.

"Don't you want the dead knight?" Charming asked. "I thought you ladies collected them."

"I've no use for a knight who can't keep his myths straight," she observed. "Good armor, on the other hand, is hard to come by." She dinged the breastplate with a sharpened fingernail, carried the pieces to the rainbow, blew him a kiss, called, "Be seeing you," and vanished in a flash of light.

Charming rode off on the charger through the forest with the sword Excalibur strapped to his shoulder, leading his original horse. It was wonderful to feel the sword there. After a while he heard a low murmur beneath his right ear and realized that it was Excalibur, muttering to itself.

"What is the matter?" Charming asked.

"Nothing much. A touch of rust."

"Rust!" Charming drew Excalibur and examined the shin­ing blade. "I do not see it."

"I can feel it coming on me," said the sword. "I need anointing."

"I have no oil."

"A bit of blood or ichor will do very well."

"I have none."

"Then forget about it, laddie, and let me nap and dream of the old days."

That seemed to Charming a very strange thing to say. But he let it pass. He continued on.

Presently, the sword seemed to sleep, because a low even snoring sound came from it. Charming had no idea that talking swords could also snore. He tried to ignore it, and rode along until he passed a man in a friar's cowl.

The friar greeted Charming, and they went their respective ways. But Excalibur said, "Did ye see the sly-naughty look of him?"

"I didn't notice anything of the sort."

"He was planning your destruction," the sword said. "Such insolence! And such malevolence!"

"I didn't think it was like that at all," Charming said.

"Are you calling me a liar?" the sword asked.

"Certainly not!" Charming said, since it is natural to use caution when talking to a talking sword, especially one with runes.

"I hope we meet that friar again," Excalibur said, and rattled up and down with low, sinister laughter.

Later that day they passed a group of merchants. They were civil enough, but no sooner were they out of sight than the sword told Charming that the merchants were actually thieves who were planning to knock him, Charming, over the head, and steal him, Excalibur. Charming said he didn't think so, but the sword would not listen. He finally pulled himself out of Charming's belt, said, "I'll be right back," and flashed off into the forest. He came back an hour later, bloodstained and wobbling.

After that, the sword swore and sang like a drunken per­son, and finally began to accuse Charming of planning some evil against him, such as melting him down when he came to the next foundry. It was obvious that the sword had a problem.

That evening, when he lay down for a little rest and the sword had gone to sleep, Charming got up and ran away from Excalibur as fast as he could.

Relieved of the sinister company of Excalibur, Charm­ing continued his search for Scarlet's castle. He moved silently through the forest, huge trees on all sides, vines and creepers using up whatever space was left. It was an un­dersea kind of landscape, green and wet, with odd noises coming from all around him.

Prince Charming walked. Unfortunately, Parsifal's big black horse had run off with his first horse when he abandoned Excalibur.

Meanwhile Azzie, in Augsburg, was rushing about his mansion frantically, trying to put together the things he needed to give to Charming once he found him.

"Quick, Frike, better put in a bottle of magic wound oint­ment."

"The edged-weapons kind, sire, or the clubbed-in-the-head kind?"

"Better pack in both, we can't tell what he's gotten himself into."

"Lady Ylith is back, m'lord," Frike advised him.

"Oh? I thought she was keeping an eye on Scarlet... . More bandages."

"That she is, sir. Though in your absence she's felt obliged to maintain the agreement on your behalf by reporting devel­opments to the observer on a regular, daily basis."

"The observer? That being Babriel? Of course. Good girl. Where is she now?"

"In the parlor, I believe, conferring with the observer over tea... . Here are the bandages."