Castle War

Twenty-two Snowclaw’s World

It had been a strange battle so far. An army of Snowclaws had poured through the portal and swept the invading anti-Guardsmen back. The latter regrouped, however, and, with their numbers magically increased, fought back. The original Guard force was dispersed, fled through various aspects, and these men gradually began to trickle back and join the Snowclaw legions when the anti-Guardsmen retreated. The resulting melee was a confusion of endless furry warriors and differing versions of Guardsmen trying to distinguish friend from foe. As the battle progressed, it was hard to tell who was winning.

Meanwhile, back in the strange lunar aspect, the black tornado was still generating Snowclaws and showed no sign of letting up.

Linda sat at a picnic table (which she had conjured) eating a lunch of potato salad, tuna salad, and chicken salad on a bed of lettuce. There was iced Pepsi to drink. She ate calmly under a beach umbrella, which warded off the harsh ultraviolet of the aspect’s hot, tiny sun.

Arranged around her were eight other picnic tables, umbrellas, and salad lunches. She had not quite learned how to fine-tune her spells, though she knew enough to avoid the mistake she had made with Snowclaw.

Sir Gene came walking up from the portal, which now was a bottleneck. New detachments of white-furred soldiers were rushing through to reinforce the invasion troops.

“Enjoying your repast, I hope,” Sir Gene said.

“Sure. How’s it going back at the castle?”

“It’s bedlam.”

“Well, what did you expect?”

“I don’t quite know. For one side to win, I suppose. Simplistic of me.”

“You ought to know that the castle’s not a simple place.”

“I’m learning. There’s no telling what Incarnadine may come up with next.”

“You should have known that, too. Don’t you think he can conjure demons or monsters, or anything else that could take Snowy in a fight? Snowy’s a hell of a guy, but he’s only hu … I mean, he’s only Snowy.”

“We have an endless supply of him.”

Linda looked at the enigmatic black cloud, which still rotated in the distance. “Yeah, I suppose we do. That’s a problem in itself. What are we going to do with all of him?”

“Can’t you wave them away once we’re done with them?”

“Wave them away. That’s great. You know what it takes to make something, even the most insignificant thing, disappear?”

“I’m afraid I don’t,” Sir Gene said dryly.

“Well, it takes a lot. It takes a subtle counterspell to undo a spell. And here, where the problem is, I can’t even do a spell right in the first place.” She took in all the picnic tables with a sweep of her arm.

“I see your point. But why don’t we worry about that later? First we have to win the battle.”

“Yeah, right. But that’s your department, Generalissimo. By the way, shouldn’t you be at the front?”

“There is no front per se.” Sir Gene went to another table and fetched its plate, sat down, and began eating. “I’m hungry.”

Linda pushed her food aside. “We have no end of problems. We still don’t know what happened to Dalton and Thaxton, and there are probably a lot of Guests who got caught in the fight. And of course, there’s the problem of what happened to Gene. The real one.”

“I’m as real as they come, milady.”

“I wish you weren’t, milord. The only hope is that Gene got through to Earth before the portal went flooey. Which would mean that he’s just cut off, not in danger.”

“Wherever he is, he’s probably safer outside the castle.”

“Thank God Sheila and Trent are out on a cruise. With any luck they’ll miss it all. Who I’m really worried about is Jeremy and Osmirik. God knows what’s going on up in that lab.”

“I can’t get any good intelligence about who holds what inside the castle,” Sir Gene said.

“We really ought to make an attempt to get to the lab,” Linda said. “If the day is going to be saved, Jeremy will do it.”

“You say he’s about to cast a spell that will cure the cosmic disturbance. How close is he to casting it?”

“That’s what I’d like to find out.”

“Well,” Sir Gene said. “I’m game.”

Linda gave him a cold stare. “What is your game?”

“What do you mean?”

“What’s your stake in all of this? This isn’t your castle. You belong somewhere else. In fact, you belong in the anti-castle.”

“Where I’m persona non grata, keep in mind.”

“Okay, so you have a grudge against the phony Incarnadine. Why did you try to fool us into believing you were our Gene?”

“It seemed the thing to do at the time.”

“I’ll bet. You said it yourself, we have no reason to trust you. So, I’m asking you again, what are you up to?”

One end of Sir Gene’s mouth curled upward. “I almost never have a plan. I improvise, play by ear. It’s fun to watch the wheels go spinning around madly. I love a plot.”

“Hope you’re having fun. Meanwhile, assuming just for the hell of it that our interests are in line, let’s talk about what we’re going to do.”

“Let’s,” he said. “I think you’re right about getting to the laboratory. We should at least give it a try.”

“To use your phrase, I’m game. You going to be long eating?”

Sir Gene sent his plate, most of the food still on it, spinning into the rocks. “Done. You could at least conjure something palatable.”

“Excuse me. I happen to like tuna salad.”

“Let’s be off.”

These halls were quiet. They had skirted a half dozen battles after coming through the portal, and had worked their way to a relatively peaceful area of the keep.

Linda stood before a section of blank wall and raised her hands as if in supplication. An elevator door materialized in the stone, a little arrow-shaped green light above it pointing up. The door rolled open.

“Ah, castle magic,” Linda sighed. “Now, this stuff I can work with.”

They stepped aboard and the door slid shut.

“Laboratory floor,” Linda said to no one in particular.

“Interesting to contemplate,” Sir Gene commented. “Is the elevator conscious, do you think?”

“Who knows? It just does what I tell it to do. I could never do elevators that worked until Lord Incarnadine showed me how to make them less mechanical and more magical.”

“You’re a very talented castle magician. My apologies for the remark about the food.”

“My castle food gets all kinds of compliments.” Linda stared off a moment, then said, “What am I like in the other castle? I mean, what’s my counterpart like?”

Sir Gene mulled over his answer. “Difficult.”

“Is she good with magic?”

“Um, in a way. She doesn’t do elevators, that I’ll tell you.”

“No? What kinds of things … oh, never mind. The whole notion is creepy.”

“Yes, the less said about it, the better.”

The elevator door opened. Standing just outside was a huge creature which resembled Snowclaw except for having yellow fur. There were other differences: it was bigger, had even more teeth, and the broadax it wielded was, if possible, more fearsome than the original.

The beast growled, raised the ax, and lunged. Sir Gene had reacted even before the door was all the way open, leaping to jab the CLOSE DOOR button and drawing his sword. The sliding panels sprang back out of their slots and caught the anti-Snowclaw between them. Sir Gene hacked at the beast’s face. Snarling, the thing retreated a step, and the doors closed, shutting it out.

Linda started breathing again. She gasped, “What was that?”

“Another of Incarnadine’s tactics. Fight fire, if possible, with a bigger fire.”

“My God, it was horrible.”

“I can’t see that it was any more horrible than its progenitor.”

“Snowy’scute. That thing was … never mind. Getting to the lab is out.”

“I suppose there isn’t another way?”

“Not that I know of. Where do we go now?”

Sir Gene sheathed his sword. “There’s nothing left to do but go back to the world of the black cloud and wait.”

“There’s nothing for me to do there,” Linda said. “I’m going to try to make it to Sheila’s world. She might be back from her trip. If so, she can help out.”

“That’s as good an idea as any, I suppose,” Sir Gene said.

“Shouldn’t you be directing the battle?”

“I’ve no control over what’s happening. If I had a hundred duplicates of myself —”

“We’re not going to try that again, even in the castle.”

“I’m not suggesting we try it. I find the existence of even one doppelganger intolerable. Where is this Sheila and her world?”

“Isn’t there a Sheila in your castle?”

“No. Not that I’ve met, anyway. There are any number of Guests who are strangers to me.”

“Sheila’s aspect is on a level about midway between the Guest Residence and the laboratory, here in the castle keep.”

“Then let’s drop to that level and hope there are no skirmishes in the area.”

“There’s fighting going on all over the keep,” Linda said, “thanks to you, but there’s always hope. Hit the fifty-first-floor button.”

Sir Gene searched the floor selection panel, found the correct button, and depressed it. “This contraption is well equipped.”

“Your typical medieval elevator.”

The conveyance descended, humming and whirring appropriately. After a half minute it slowed and stopped. Sir Gene drew his sword and held it at the ready.

The doors opened to silence.

Sir Gene poked his head out and looked. “It’s clear.”

They exited into a dim hallway and proceeded right, keeping to the left-hand wall, which was punctuated by numerous alcoves suitable for ducking into. They passed a sitting room, complete with heavy oak furniture and tables. No one was about. They came to an aspect, a doorway leading to a forest scene.

“We could hide in there,” Sir Gene said.

Linda shook her head. “I want to see Sheila. It’s just down the hall and to the left.”

They passed along more dim hallway before encountering an unused dining hall, dark and gloomy.

“I’m reminded that I’m still hungry,” Sir Gene said.

“Want me to whip up something for you?”

“No, I can wait.”

“The food is good at Sheila’s hotel.”

“She discovered this world?”

“She and Trent, Lord Incarnadine’s brother.”

“Didn’t know he had a brother.”

Linda said, “I’m beginning to see that there are lots of differences between our castle and yours.”

“Does seem that way. Is it much farther, this aspect?”

“Just down this hall, about —”

Having just rounded the corner, Linda stopped in her tracks. Her jaw dropped. Walking toward her, flanked by two anti-Guardsmen, was what could have been her twin sister were it not for some differences. The quasi-twin’s teeth were crooked and stained, her complexion sallow. Her hair was a fright wig, dyed a bright red. There was something wrong with the eyes; they were ringed with dark circles and had a strangeness in them.

The anti-Linda smiled and said, “I thought I heard voices. Well, well, well. My counterpart, Lady Linda the dishwater blonde. How can you wear it that color, dear?”

Linda closed her mouth, took a deep breath. Then she said calmly, “I was born with it, that’s why.”

“And that outfit. Cute. Like a pixie, little tights and everything. Oh, nice boots. Get those at Bloomingdale’s?”

Linda looked at the horror of a white lace gown that draped her twin. “Early Bela Lugosi movie” would have been the appropriate period, and the kindest capsule description. She decided to refrain from commenting. She did say, “Why don’t you go back where you belong?”

The anti-Linda took a step forward, sudden anger boiling in her strange eyes. “Look, honey, I don’t take orders well, not even from Incarnadine, let alone from some castle tart playing Glinda the Good Witch. So, get your bitchy lips off me, all right?” Her expression and manner shifting abruptly, almost jarringly, she turned to Sir Gene with an inexplicable smile. “Put that sword away, Gene, sweetheart. I’ve no grudge against you.”

Sir Gene grunted and lowered his sword, but kept it out. “That would be a radical change.”

“Gene, Gene, how many times have we worked at cross-purposes? Weaving our separate strands, always warp-to-warp, never warp-to-woof.”

“Charming metaphor.”

“But I mean it. I could have aided you in your last bid for power, but you chose not to include me in your lovely little conspiracy.”

“You ought to be grateful. It failed miserably.”

“Because I didn’t help you. We never were the best of friends, Gene, but that shouldn’t have prevented us from becoming business partners.”

“I like to work alone.”

“It takes two to conspire, darling.” She batted her eyelashes sweetly. “But no matter, you had your chance. And now Incarnadine’s appointed me regent of this new castle. Oh, yes! It’ll be practically like ruling Perilous itself. Wait a minute. How silly of me. It will be exactly like ruling Perilous. This is Castle Perilous, after all.”

“How fortunate for you,” Sir Gene said. “I suppose I’ll be a nonperson here as well?”

The anti-Linda shook her head. “Don’t leave on my account, dear. I won’t give you any trouble. Of course, if Incarnadine finds out you’re here —”

“We already ran into each other.”

“How unfortunate for you. Don’t worry, I won’t sic my boys, here, on you. Put your sword away.”

Sir Gene harrumphed to himself and sheathed his weapon.

“It might be wise to keep you handy,” the anti-Linda said. “I suspect you’ll be ducking through an aspect to lie low, but keep in touch, will you? It’s good to keep potential allies close at hand.”

Sir Gene gestured toward Linda. “What about her?”

“Well, that’s a problem.” The anti-Linda brought up her hand. Somehow a strange elongated pistol had materialized in it.

“A gun?” Sir Gene said, perplexed.

The anti-Linda was looking at her twin. “Sorry, honey, but the best way to deal with you is just to get it over with. I hear you’re very sweet, but you’d only be in the way. My apologies.”

Sir Gene began, “But a gun won’t work —”

The pistol made a sharp hissing sound. Sir Gene turned toward Linda and looked wonderingly at the feathered dart that had blossomed in Linda’s chest like a small deadly flower. Linda sank to her knees.

“Poison-tipped,” the anti-Linda said. “Quick-acting, attacks the nervous system almost instantly.”

Sir Gene made an instinctive motion to catch Linda as she teetered.

“Let her go, Gene. She’s dead. No magic can block the effects.”

Sir Gene straightened. The whites of Linda’s eyes rolled up, and she fell over and lay still.

The anti-Linda smiled brightly. “Gene, how about lunch?”