Roger Zelazny - Wizard World 1 - Changeling

"Are you hurt?" he asked, as he faced the smaller man.

"I ache all over. But then, I felt that way before the crash, too. I don't believe anything is broken."

Mouseglove stood and turned about, raising his hands. As Pol slit the cord, he said, "Must be Mark's people in your castle. No one else has weapons like that--Uh-oh."

The sound of hoofbeats now came to their ears.

"Shall we run for it?" Mouseglove asked.

"No. Too late. They'd catch us. We'll wait and have this out here."

Pol slipped the knife behind his belt and turned to face the wood. A mental order to the centaur he now controlled moved him off to the right.

Shortly, the figures came into sight--four male centaurs led by an older female. She halted, about ten meters from where he stood, and regarded Pol.

"I was told you were bound," she stated.

"I was."

She stepped forward, and Pol started as he saw that she held the scepter in the hand which had been out of sight at her side. She raised it and pointed it at him. He saw a cluster of strands rush toward it. He issued a mental command and the centaur under his spell stepped between them. New spells suggested themselves to him and he summoned strands of his own.

The female centaur's eyes widened.

"What have you done to him?" she asked.

"Return my rod and we'll talk about it."

From the corner of his eye, Pol saw that Mouseglove was edging away.

"Where did you get it?" she asked.

"I recovered it, piece by piece, from the points of the Triangle of Int."

"Only a sorcerer could do that."

"You noticed."

"I, too, have some familiarity with the Art, though only the middle part of this rod will respond to me. Mine is an Earth magic." She gestured upward. "Why then were you riding in that thing?"

"My dragon was occupied. That vessel was stolen from my enemy, Mark Marakson, who has many such, atop Anvil Mountain. Perhaps you have seen his dark birds, who are not of flesh, in the skies."

"I know who he is and I have seen such birds. Some of my people were killed and some injured by men who came in larger vessels such as the one you rode."

The strands came into his hands and Pol felt the power throb in his wrist. Still, he had no wish to face a person who could use even the middle section of the rod.

"Small men, I daresay," he answered, "for such is the stature of the race which serves him. I have never harmed a centaur and I've no desire to. This will be the first time, if you force me to fight here."

"Sunfa, come forward," she said, and a smaller male moved from among those to the rear of the group to a position beside her. There was a long gash upon his left shoulder, and he was missing several teeth. "Were either of these men of the party which attacked you that day?"

He shook his head.

"No, Stel. Neither of them."

Her head snapped forward.

"You know my name now," she said. "So know, too, that I was among the force which stormed Rondoval the day this rod was wrested from Det Morson."

Pol raised his right hand so that his sleeve fell back, revealing the dragonmark.

"I am Pol Detson," he stated. "I have heard stories concerning my father. But I was taken from this land as a child and raised in another place. I never knew him. The past is dead, so far as I am concerned. I have only been back for a short while. I need that scepter for purposes of arousing the forces of Rondoval against those of Anvil Mountain. Are you going to return it to me?"

"In many ways," she replied, "this is even more disturbing than your being what we had thought you. For the moment, it is good if our enemy is also your enemy. But to see the hordes that lie beneath Rondoval roused once again is a frightening thought, especially for those of us who were alive in your father's day. So tell me, what do you propose doing when your battle is over?"

Pol laughed.

"You are assuming that I win and that I live. But, all right ... I would lay most of my forces to rest again. I would like to be left alone to pursue my studies, and I would be happy to return the favor and leave everyone else in the neighborhood to his own devices. After a time, I may do some traveling. I don't know. I am not attracted by the darker aspects of the Art. I have no desire to conquer anything, and the idea of ruling over anybody bores the ass off me."

"Commendable," she said, "and I find myself wanting to believe you. In fact, it seems likely that you are telling the truth. However, even granting that, people do change. I would like very much to see you deal with the people who feel that they can hunt centaurs whenever they choose. But I would also like some assurance that you will not one day be inclined to do it yourself."

"My word is all that I can give you. Take it or leave it."

"But you could give me more--and in return, your own way might be eased."

"What have you in mind?"

"Swear an oath of friendship with us, upon your scepter."

"Friendship is a thing that goes further than nonaggression," he replied. "It is something that works both ways."

"I will be willing to swear the same oath for you."

"On your own, or on behalf of the other centaurs as well?"

"For all of us."

"You can speak for them?"

"I can."

"Very well. I'll do it if you will."

He looked back at Mouseglove, who was about to slip off among the trees.

"Stay put," he called back. "You're safe."

"For now," Mouseglove replied. But he returned.

Pol moved around the cataleptic centaur who stood between Stel and himself, destroying the spell which held him with a twisting motion of his hand as he passed. That one drew away, eyes shifting rapidly, until Stel spoke some reassurance.

"Tell me the words of the oath," Pol said, coming up before her.

"Place your hand upon the middle section of the rod, and repeat after me."

Pol nodded and complied.

As she began to speak the words, a series of dark strands knotted themselves about them. He felt a vaguely threatening force accumulating within them. When they had finished speaking the knots separated and drifted away, like small, dark clouds. One went to hover behind Stel. He felt such a presence behind himself, also.

"There," she said, passing the rod to him. "We have created our own dooms, should we betray one another."

They clasped hands.

"No problem then," Pol answered, smiling "and it's good to have some friends. I'd like to stay and visit, but now I've some monsters to rouse. Hopefully, I'll be back."

He turned away and fetched his guitar case.

"A weapon?" she asked as he raised it.

"No, a musical instrument. Maybe I'll be able to play it for you one day."

"You are really going to Rondoval now?"

"I must."

"Give me time to raise a force, to rid the place of your enemies. Now we are allies, it is our fight, too."

"Not necessary," Pol said. "They are up in the castle. My destination is far below it. Moonbird--my dragon--showed me a tunnel to the place. I'll go in that way and bypass the bastards. There is no need at all to deal with them now."

"Where does the tunnel open?"

"Down the slope, to the north. I'll have to do a little climbing but I foresee no real difficulties."

"--Unless your enemies see you and go after you in their flying boats."

He shrugged.

"There is always that chance."

"So I will take a small force and lead a diversionary assault from the south. Two of my males will bear you and your friend to the northern slope."

"The enemy has guns, which kill from a distance."

"So do arrows. We'll take no unnecessary risks. I am going to send runners now, to tell the others to arm and to bring them here. While we wait, I would like to hear your music."

"Okay. Me, too," said Pol. "Let's get comfortable."