Piers Anthony - Out of Phaze

No, they were hurrying away from him. He started to relax again.

“A doll!” a goblin cried.

They had spied Fleta!

“A damn nymph!” another exclaimed. “Sleepin’ by a tree.”

“Well, let’s have at her! Anything like that we catch—“

“That’s no nymph,” another said. “See the horn-button in her forehead? That’s a unicorn!”

Fleta woke. She tried to scramble to her feet, but they were upon her, grabbing at her arms and legs. “Hold her horn!” the leader cried. “So she can’t change form!”

A goblin clapped a calloused hand on Fleta’s forehead, covering the horn-button. The others virtually wrapped themselves around her limbs, one to each. She struggled, but she was still very tired and they overwhelmed her.

Mach had noted all this as if detached; meanwhile he was charging to the rescue, drawing his axe. The goblins, preoccupied by their capture, did not see him.

“Now, mare, tell us where the man is, or we’ll take turns raping you,” the leader said, yanking her cloak up. “You animals don’t like that much, do you!”

Fleta’s forehead was covered, but not her eyes. She saw Mach charging in. “No!” she cried. “Not that way!”

But Mach was already committed. His axe swung down at the goblin-leader’s head. The goblin turned, but too late; the axe chopped into his face, slicing off his nose.

The goblins were no cowards. They let Fleta go and pounced as one on Mach. Before he could get in a second blow, four of them were on his arms and legs. They had surprising power; they bore him back and down, spread-eagling him on the ground.

The goblin leader, amazingly, retained his feet. His nose was gone, but he seemed otherwise unbothered. “That be him!” he exclaimed. “The one we seek!”

Mach struggled, but the goblins were too strong for him. Now he understood why Fleta had tried to warn him off. She had known he could not handle these creatures. Who would have thought that monster’s skull could be so hard as to make the axe shear off! For Mach knew he had scored directly on the goblin’s forehead; had it been fashioned of ordinary stuff, the stone blade would have cut right in. Instead it had been turned aside by the super-hard bone, doing what was apparently only minor damage to the goblin’s face. How could an ordinary man fight such creatures?

“Tie him up,” the leader said. “I’d love to chew up his eyeballs, but orders are orders. The Adept wants him intact. We’ll have to content ourselves with the animal.” He looked about with sudden alarm. “Who’s holding her?”

“I am!” the sixth goblin cried. But though he still had his hands on Fleta’s forehead, his touch nullifying the magic power of her horn, he was now the only one. Fleta’s arms and legs were free, because the other four goblins were now holding Mach.

Fleta smiled. She reached up and grabbed the goblin’s hands in her own, hauling them down while she straightened up. He might be stronger than she, but he could not keep his hands in place while she was moving her body. He needed more hands. In a moment her forehead was clear.

Abruptly she vanished. In her place was the hummingbird, and its buzz was quite angry. It darted at the goblin leader.

One of the goblins holding Mach began to laugh, for such a tiny creature could hardly hurt a goblin. But the laugh was cut off when the unicorn manifested almost in the leader’s face. The forward motion of the bird translated into a plunge by the unicorn.

The long horn speared right through the goblin’s head.

Then Fleta lifted her head and flung the goblin off her horn. She whirled to face the ones holding Mach, but these were already scrambling desperately away. Their skulls might be too tough for Mach’s crude axe, but the unicorn’s horn was another matter! In a moment there was not a live goblin in sight.

Fleta fluted, blood spitting from her horn as she blew it. She stood by Mach, angling her head.

He needed no further urging. He scrambled to her back, and they were off. It was obvious that the goblins would soon spread the news of the discovery of the prey, and greater numbers of them would be in hot pursuit. He hated to make Fleta run again, when she had had so little rest, but they had to find a better place to hide.

Where was there? If the goblins roamed this forest that was no good. But out in the open the harpies woul be able to spot them. It was getting dark now, but wh of the morning?

Fleta was pounding directly south, toward the loo ing Purple Mountains. Mach had to have faith that she knew what she was doing. But he could feel the fatigue of her body; she shouldn’t be running at all, right now!

Well, he could do nothing about it at the moment. He just had to hang on and hope it would be all right.

Meanwhile, he realized that he had learned some new things. A unicorn couldn’t change form if her horn was covered; thus she could be held captive, or even raped, despite her normal powers. So if they were ever in a situation like this again, his first job would be to eliminate whoever was holding her horn, so as to free her magic. That was the way he should have proceeded before, had he but known. He could have thrown himself upon the goblin at her head, dragging it off for that necessary instant.

But also, the goblins had confirmed that it was an Adept behind this. And that it was Bane’s presence, not his death, that was wanted. That meant that their guess about trying to eliminate Bane during his weakness was wrong; the Adept wanted something else.

What could the Adept want? Mach was simply not very effective as a resident of Phaze! Without Fleta he’d have been dead several times over already. He was learning to do magic, but even that was only a poor suggestion of what Bane could do. He wouldn’t be worth much even as a hostage, since he was the wrong person.

He shook his head. He just couldn’t make much sense of it. But he was sure he didn’t want to get hauled in to that enemy Adept!

Fleta slowed. He feared it was because she was exhausted, but he discovered it was the terrain; the level plain had ended, and the slope of the mountain range was beginning.

“I’ll walk now!” he said quickly. “You’ve done enough!”

She did not object. Mach slid off. It was now dark, except for the light of three moons. Proton had seven small moons, which meant that Phaze did too, and several were normally in view. Most were pale shades of gray; the one blue moon seldom showed.

She changed to girl form, showing the way up the mountain slope. Mach was amazed by the amount she evidently knew of far-flung terrain. She must have done a lot of exploring in her day! He followed, covertly admiring her rear view, though he knew that her human shape was exactly what she had chosen and crafted; naturally she had not devised an ugly one.

Then she stumbled. Mach hastened to join her, putting his arm about her waist. But she sagged, too tired to keep her feet.

“The hummingbird!” he exclaimed. “Change to that form!”

“Nay,” she whispered. “It takes more energy to fly than this!”

“Not to fly,” he said. “To perch! You carried me; let me carry you, now!”

She turned her head to him. She nodded. She became the bird. He put out his hand, and she flopped in it. He lifted her to his shoulder, and there she perched, her little claws anchored on his homemade shirt.

“Sleep, Fleta,” he said. “I will climb this hill.”

Climb he did. It made him feel good to do his part, his strength filling in for hers. His legs were stiff, but he had plenty of remaining energy. As the way became steeper, he hauled himself up by grabbing handholds on saplings. He hoped he got them wherever they were going. It was so dark now that he could barely see the next tree before him.