David Grace - The Accidental Magician

Grantin and Chom peeked around the edge of a jutting chimney to watch Dukey descend into the gulch. The bandit rode the lizard at full speed, yet his progress seemed slower than expected. As his eyes focused on Dukey's form Grantin's perspective pitched and changed. The farther the bandit progressed, the deeper the ravine became. Whether the gulch was hundreds of times deeper than it appeared or the rider shrank by degrees as he descended Grantin could not tell. It soon became obvious, however, that though he might ride for days Dukey still would not reach the bottom. The reason for the barrier's name was now clear.

Sounds issued from the eastern edge of the reef: clicks, snaps, and thuds as Yon Diggery and his remaining men entered the labyrinth on foot. With a new urgency Grantin and Chom resumed their frenzied sidelong flight.

At the end of the seventh hour they reached the western edge of the reef. From the sounds of the pursuit Yon Diggery was no more than five or ten minutes behind. To the southwest a trail stretched away from the reef across a meadow and into a twinkling yellow-red field beyond, the Mirror Scarp. What could it be? Fields of mica-covered boulders, plains of silvered rock -another labyrinth in which they would be hopelessly lost, if not cooked by Pyra's reflected light? Directly ahead and to the northeast a second trail cut across the rolling meadow which a half mile in the distance ascended a gentle, forested slope to terminate at a thousand-yard-high rocky ridge.

"That must be Domino Grove," Grantin panted. "To the right is the gorge, to the left the scarp. At least in front of us the view is nice. If I am going to die I prefer it be under as pleasant circumstances as possible."

Chom made no reply but docilely followed the human's lead. Here, too, the perspective was deceiving. The ground became marshy and the travelers were limited to a narrow rocky ledge which crossed the swamp. Tall pea-green trees grew in copses at the edge of the trail.

Slowly the character of the land continued to change. The clumps of swamp grass grew taller. The stalky trees became more common. By nightfall Chom and Grantin found themselves in a thick forest. In the gloom of night further travel became impossible. The bushes and trees screened them from their pursuers. At last they straggled to a halt. Grantin pronounced an impromptu spell of protection. In theory, if anyone crossed an imaginary circle a thousand yards in diameter they would be warned by a keening in Grantin's ears.

By now the packs were almost empty, and Chom waded into a nearby pool to catch their dinner. Demonstrating exquisite coordination, the four-armed native tossed eight plump fish upon the bank. Chom was willing to eat them raw, but Grantin met that suggestion with a groan. At last Chom agreed that the thickness of the underbrush would hide a small fire, provided Grantin could find fuel in the swampy country.

After a few minutes' search the human discovered a peculiar variety of twisted shrub which solved the problem. He returned to their campsite carrying several of the plants, which he piled in a mound in the center of the clearing.

"What are those?" Chom asked him.

"I found them sprouting from the green-stemmed trees. I think they're a parasite. No leaves, no root system. They snap off at a touch, but they're hard and springy and seem thin enough to burn."

Chom examined the plants as closely as possible in the poor light. Their appearance suggested the work of a demented basket weaver. Each was spherical, about two feet in diameter, and composed of flat, shiny black strips. These ribbons twisted and intertwined with great complexity like a tangled skein of yam. Still, none of the strips could be seen to split or converge. Each branch seemed to be constructed of one continuous tangled piece.

Chom wondered how they grew. Did they bend and turn upon themselves in response to some genetic code, or was each one patterned as uniquely as a snowflake?

Grantin struck a lucifer and thrust the flaming twig beneath the pile. He stood back to see if the shrubs would catch. The result was astonishing. At first the ribbons resisted the fire; then, instead of bursting into flame, they swelled like slowly inflating balloons. As Grantin and Chom watched, the stems nearest the flames began to bulge, followed by those more distant.

"Well," said Grantin after a moment, "it looks as though-" A piercing howl interrupted him, and both turned back to the fire. The strips had filled to bursting, and now thin streams of gas hissed from their lower reaches. A jumping spark ignited one of the plumes, and instantly it blazed with an orange-white glow. Soon tongues of fire adorned the bottom strips. Their heat caused the upper stems to swell. Grantin leaped forward and removed the bulk of the bushes before they turned the camp into an oven. "I wonder how it works," Grantin asked, fascinated with the display.

'The branches seem to be composed of long, pliable fibers," Chom suggested, "giving the stems strength lengthwise but no lateral support. With a little pressure they inflate, and when the fibers can stretch no farther the gas forces itself out at the weakest point. Obviously the fumes are flammable. Not the sort of thing we would want to throw into a raging fire."

"It would probably go off like a bomb," Grantin agreed. "We should cut some short pieces and seal the ends. You never know when an explosive might come in handy." The bush now burning easily, Grantin set the fish on its upper surface and let them bake. Even Chom admitted the benefits of cooking, although he disconcerted Grantin by consuming not just the flesh but additionally the head, bones, skin, and tail.

Slowly the lantern bush, as Grantin named it, burned out and the camp was plunged into pitch-black night. To the south a mournful howl arose from the forest depths, a sound which Grantin hoped would keep Yon Diggery and his men close to their own camp a mile or two behind.

At first light Grantin collapsed his spell of surveillance and he and Chom sped down the trail. The character of the land continued to change. The trees grew denser and more uniform in shape; the ground began to slope upward, as if they were climbing the edge of a long, gentle valley. The forest was now composed almost entirely of tall, stalk-like trees. The trunks had turned from pea green to sickly yellow and were of a uniform two-foot diameter. The surface of the stalks was covered with a horny, scaled hide unbroken by limbs or branches. Some fifty feet above the ground the treetops sported an egg-shaped crown colored an unattractive shade of greenish gray.

"It resembles a giant asparagus," Grantin said. Vines and creepers seemed to favor the strange trees. With increasing frequency thick strands spanned the upper level of the forest until they gradually formed a canopy which filtered out the sun.

Bit by bit Chom slowed their pace, carefully threading a trail through the midmorning gloom. At noon they reached a small brook. As Grantin bent over to fill his water bottle a missile whizzed over his crouched body.

"Down!" Both dived to the earth. They waited tensely but, except for a slight rustling in the underbrush, nothing could be heard.

After a few minutes Grantin rose and dodged through the brush to the point where the object had hit the ground. There were no rocks in sight, but upon searching a bit he discovered a round, mustard-yellow pod beneath a clump of ferns. About the size and weight of a small melon, it was covered with irregular spikes and barbs. In a moment Chom joined him and studied the object.

"It looks like a seedpod," he said, lifting it gingerly. "Perhaps the plants launch them somehow."

Grantin looked up at the bulging treetops. "If a tree full of these fell on us, we'd be killed. We should leave here as fast as possible."