Her Majesty's Wizard

CHAPTER 11

Stegoman let out a thundering roar as he lumbered into their camp.

Sayeesa was crouched back against the boulder was near the campfire. Sir Guy stood in front of her with sword and shield, but obviously had found no time to don armor. Beside him, the princess stood with a sword to guard his back. There was no sign of Father Brunel.

In front of the knight danced a gaunt, gray wolf, snarling; snapping its jaws, and trying to leap at him from the side, but prevented by the two swords.

Suddenly, the wolf leaped high, attempting to jump over Sip Guy. The Black Knight's shield shot up, slamming against the wolf's chest, throwing the creature backward. Then his sword flashed downward, opening a long gash in the hairy side. Blood fountained out - but the flow slackened almost instantly, slowed to a trickle, and stopped. The wound began to close.

Matt's scalp prickled as his hair tried to stand on end. He'd done enough reading of horror stories to recognize a werewolf.

"I tell you, swords are of no avail," Sayeesa cried. "A silver crucifix, Sir Knight! Naught else will protect us!"

"We have none." For once, the Black Knight sounded less than amused.

The wolf gathered itself for another spring, and Stegoman let out a bellow. The wolf whirled. Then it sprang high into the air, straight for Matt's face.

Stegoman reared back his neck and let out a blast of fire. Flame enveloped the wolf. It screamed, a sound that was almost human. Then the blowtorch cut out as Stegoman hiccuped, and the wolf fell, a crisped and singed hulk, moaning and howling. Matt leaped to the ground.

"Stay clear of the fell beast!" Sayeesa cried, and Matt realized he'd landed only ten feet from the struggling hulk.

As he watched, the char fell from the wolf's body, leaving new, pink skin. Hair sprouted and grew. The moans turned into snarls. The wolf lifted its head. For a second, Matt stared directly into its eyes. They looked familiar...

The wolf floundered to its feet and leaped, slashing at him. Matt sprang back, and Stegoman's head swung down between him and the wolf, jaws gaping for another blast. The wolf sidled back and began to dance around them. Suddenly it whirled and leaped at Sayeesa.

Sir Guy moved to block its way. The wolf saw the sword stabbing and tried to abort its leap, but the sword laid open its side. It howled as it landed, and blood gushed again, to halt and begin healing at once. Then the wolf struggled to its feet and leaped for Matt's throat.

Matt twisted aside into a crouch and reached out to catch a paw as the wolf went past. He turned with it and yanked down, then let go. The wolf went flying, somersaulting for ten feet, to land on its back. Something cracked like a brittle branch, and the wolf screamed as it floundered about on the ground.

"Be not deceived," Sayeesa called. "His back will heal. Work your spell now or not at all!"

Matt nodded, closing his mind to the wolf's piteous yelps and howls. He reached for his silver ballpoint, taking a deep breath and scrounging mentally for a verse. Then he began chanting the spell.

The pen twitched and writhed in his hand, but Matt didn't dare look down at it, because the wolf had staggered to its feet and was stalking toward him, stiff-legged, snarling.

Matt flicked his hand; moonlight gleamed off the blade.

The wolf froze, staring.

Then a snarl of rage ripped from its throat as it leaped at Matt, death in its eyes.

Matt dropped to his knees, thrusting up with the dagger, scoring the wolf's belly. The wolf twisted in mid-air, snapping at Matt's hand, and fell on him. Matt covered his eyes with his forearm as the wolf's weight crashed down. An agonized howl filled his head; claws raked fire along his arm, and teeth stabbed into the hand that held the knife. Matt bellowed with pain and anger and jabbed. The teeth shot fire up his arm, but the wolf gave a choking cough and yanked its head back.

Then something slammed it aside, and Matt rolled to his knees in time to see Stegoman's huge snout swing like a wrecking ball, knocking the wolf another ten feet. "Wouldsht thou, then, trouble one o' my friendzh?" the dragon slurred, lurching after the wolf, inhaling.

The wolf scrabbled to its feet, saw the gaping jaws lining up on it, and leaped to the side with a howl as a gout of fire blasted the moor where it had been. It spun, snarling - and saw a silver blade hovering an inch before its eyes.

"Why do you stay?" Sayeesa cried. "Slay it ere it tears out your throat!"

But her words rang with despair, and Matt stayed his hand.

The wolf's head jerked up at the sound of Sayeesa's voice. It leaped to the side with a snarl; but Matt leaped with it, silver blade glinting, and the wolf howled in rage and frustration. It whirled about toward the open moor - and found Alisande blocking its path.

"Stand away!" Matt cried in panic. "You're not protected!"

The wolf sprang at her throat, and Matt leaped after it, stabbing. But Alisande fell back and away, to her knees, sword slashing out to open its belly as Matt's knife stabbed its hindquarters. The wolf howled in agony and sprang on past the princess, running out into the night on three legs.

Matt stood, staring after it.

"Well done, Lord Matthew!" Sir Guy's hand clasped his shoulder.

"Aye," Alisande admitted, climbing to her feet. "Though I could wish... what do ye?"

Matt didn't answer. He sprinted on past her, out into the night. He heard Stegoman bellow something slurry after him and a shout from Sir Guy, but he kept on running. Somehow, he was certain he didn't dare let the wolf get away.

It was a fine night for a chase, with a bright, full moon and wide-open country. There wasn't a bit of cover for the wolf to hide in, except for an occasional clump of boulders. Matt ran at a jogging lope, keeping the moving dot of the werewolf in sight.

The wolf was running on three feet, but it showed no sign of weakening. Werewolves were supposed to have amazing recuperative powers. The wound from silver would be slow to heal, but fatigue was no problem; it would recoup as quickly as it tired.

Matt wasn't so lucky. He was already tired.

He stopped to catch his breath. Then the idea hit. He'd projected those townmen fifty feet, right after he arrived. If he could do it to them, he could do it to himself. He thumbed through an imaginary rhyming dictionary in his head.

Matt felt a slight jolt and was looking across a different section of the empty plain. As he turned, he could see a black dot limping along, far behind him.

Matt sighed. He'd overshot. Well, he hadn't exactly been specific. Maybe he could do better this time.

And he was. Thirty feet away, the wolf was suddenly slamming on brakes. It jarred to a stop six feet from him, snarling. Matt dropped to a crouch, knife out and ready.

With a snarl of fury, the wolf leaped in, feinting. It hopped to the side and leaped in at his face. Matt dodged to the left, swiping with the blade, but he missed the wolf by an inch. It landed and spun to face him, rage grating in its throat, stalking around him stiff-legged.

Now Matt was faced with a problem. He was pretty sure who the wolf really was, so he didn't want to kill it; but somehow he knew he didn't dare let it get away, either.

The wolf sprang, dodging out, then in again, in a series of dazzling leaps. Matt fell back, but teeth slashed his hand and claws raked his arm. The wolf danced about him, snarl rising to a high, manic pitch, never missing a chance to draw blood. And this with just three legs! Matt felt he'd underestimated the man under the fur. He swore, trying to keep the knife between himself and it; but as soon as he pointed the blade, the wolf was gone to the side.

It could keep this up all night. But Matt couldn't; his endurance was improving, but he was still mortal. He had to end it, and soon.

Out of the corner of his eye, he noticed a tall cluster of boulders, cutting a swathe of inky shadow across the moon-silvered turf. He dropped back, retreating a foot at a time. The wolf's growl rose exultantly, and it pressed the attack. In and out, in and out, and Matt fell back and back. He stepped into shadow and readied his verse. Then the wolf leaped in after him, out of the moonlight. He called out,

The wolf howled in anguish as it fell, scrabbling in the dust. Its form blurred, seemed to lengthen, then to shrink in on itself, and a naked man lay writhing in the dust.

He saw the arm in front of his face and froze. Then he rolled up to his knees, staring up at Matt in horror and shame.

Matt scowled, feeling the fun go out of the night. "Good evening, Father."

The priest clapped his hands over his face, bowing his head. "Turn away! Do not look at me! I am a thing too foul for human sight!"

Matt's mouth hardened at the comers. He turned a little away, so that he wasn't looking directly at the priest. Might as well spare him as much embarrassment as he could.

Father Brunel dropped his hands, eyes widening, startled. He looked down at his midriff and saw a loincloth bound in place. He looked up at Matt. "I thank you," he said slowly. "But it can only cover my shame, not remove it."

Matt frowned, puzzled. "If it shames you, why didn't you guard against its happening?"

The priest rose slowly, shaking his head. "It is not so easily done, short of locking myself in my chamber when the moon rises - and I could not do that tonight."

"No, I mean about going were at all. Or can't you do anything to stop it?"

The priest managed a tight, ironic smile. "Aye - purge myself totally of all lusty wishes. But if there's even the thread of such a coveting left, I go were."

"And with Sayeesa nearby...?"

"Aye." Brunel's voice was tight and bitter. "Yet the princess commanded me to come."

"Okay, so you had to go were. But couldn't you have just run out across the moor and chased rabbits all night?"

Brunel shook his head. "When I am wolf, there is nothing of conscience, pity, or remorse left within me. All that's left are appetites."

Matt pursed his lips, digesting that. "Under those circumstances, doesn't your ... choice of vocation ... seem a little..."

"False?" Brunel shook his head, with a sardonic smile. "I fled to the Church for a purification, Lord Wizard. I sought to banish this hidden nature - for look you, 'tis a thing of evil, to be such a beast with no conscience; and evil must therefore begin it. So I bethought me of purification - if I could keep my heart clean, I would not turn wolf. What else could I do, not wishing to wreak anguish? Suicide's a sin. Nay, when I found what I was, I fled to the Church."

" 'Found what you were?' " Matt looked up sharply. "You didn't grow up knowing it?"

The priest frowned, puzzled; then his brow cleared with a rueful smile. "Why, did you think I was born thus? Nay; or, if I was, it did not show in my childhood. I was a peasant's son, like any other, playing with my fellows and doing children's work. I did not fear the full moon's light till I began to be a man."

Matt pursed his lips. "About thirteen?"

"Twelve, for me. 'Twas then the sight of a neighbor lass quickened first my blood and shot heat through my loins. But I had been raised by chapel, bell, and Book; so when I caught myself at the bare beginning of wondering what lay beneath her bodice, I spurned the thought and turned it from me. Yet 'twas a struggle to do so, a struggle that became more difficult; and at last I yielded, staring, and lay awake that night to dream of answers and of actions."

"A night with a full moon?" Matt suggested.

Brunel nodded. "I wakened suddenly in the moonlight. The house seemed strange and fearsome. I bolted from my bed and leaped out through the window. I noticed that I had four feet and fur; yet it seemed not strange at all. I scarce had space to think of anything, save to seize the lass, to taste her flesh, to roll my tongue over that fair body, and ... no!" He buried his face in his hands, fingers clenching in his hair.

"You're in the shadow." Matt clasped the priest's shoulder, shaking him. "You can't turn without moonlight, can you?"

Brunel swallowed thickly and shook his head. "And dawn transforms me back again. When the morning came and sunlight touched me with its blessed, healing wand, I became myself again, horrified at that which I had sought to do."

"Sought?" Matt seized on it. "No luck, eh?"

Brunel shook his head. "Her father, bless him, kept his house secure, the door and shutters barred. I crept back to my parents' house by day, knelt beside my bed, and wept with manhood's tears the whiles I vowed I never would become a fell and vile beast again."

Matt nodded thoughtfully. "So you went to the Church to purge the sin from your soul."

"For that, and more. I would devote my life to goodness and Godliness, to live within the shining mantle of God's Grace, so fixing all my thoughts on longings for eternal Heaven that, even in my most secret heart of hearts, I would never more seek sin."

Matt pursed his lips, turning the silver knife over and over in his hands, wondering if he could even have the heart to use it now. "I take it you got an `A' for effort, but it didn't work."

"It succeeded fully," Brunel said sharply. "The monastery welcomed me. All there were strict and Godly men, devoting every minute of each day to piety and prayer, to body labor that would both feed them and tire the body, lessening its demands. I fasted and I prayed; I chanted hymns to God. I prospered in pursuit of Godliness and grew to my full manhood in His favor. Any sin of thought or wish I confessed at once, and never, ever, for ten years and five, did my heart betray me; never once did I turn wolf."

"Only fifteen years?" Matt looked up, surprised. "But that means.. . Wait a minute! How long ago was that?"

"Scarce five years." Brunel smiled bitterly. "I have aged quite quickly and harshly, though. I would have dwelt within the monastery all my life - and gladly; but our abbott died, and a new and younger one took his place. Hardly had he been elected then he summoned us to conclave, to tell us that the forces of Evil once more clustered thickly about the land. He said that there must now be one priest for every village, to guard each tiny flock with never-sleeping vigilance. Then we trembled, for we knew we must go out from safety to the world of sinners - priests among them."

He buried his face in his hands. "You cannot know the torment in my soul when the abbott commanded that I go out into the world, bereft of holy fellowship, to guide a flock. I shuddered in my heart of hearts, knowing the trial laid upon me."

Matt frowned. "Then why'd you go?"

The priest looked up, astonished. "Why, I had sworn obedience! And if it please the Lord my God to place me in temptation so much greater than any I had known, He must have done so as much for my own perfecting as for that of my fellows."

"Your faith does you credit." Matt tried to keep the sarcasm he felt out of his voice; he'd meant what he'd said - or his mind had.

"But my strength of will does not." The priest bowed his head. "Yet while the old king lived, I held my soul secure. I chanted psalms and prayers each moment that I spared from duty; I labored in my garden and among my flock. I worked and prayed and learned how to see only faces when I looked at women in my parish. And I stood fast! While the old king lived, my sins were small and not of fleshy lust! Even then, I quickly found a fellow priest, a village away, to hear my sins. For four long years, I never turned to wolf!"

"But the old king died," Matt said softly.

Brunel nodded, mouth hard and bitter. "And the usurper took the throne, the vile sorcerer Malingo climbing up behind him. We were weakened, and temptations grew ever more severe. The faces of the women in my parish seemed to dim, the contours of their bodies seemed to glow through their thick, homespun gowns. I strove; I fought, I say. But one lass flaunted herself ever before me, took each moment that she could to seek me out alone. I rebuked her; still she pressed herself upon me. At last, fearful of my own weakness, I fled the village, vowing that if I should sin, 'twould not be with one entrusted to my care. And..,"

His voice hung in the air, eyes staring forward, glassy, lower lip protruding, moist.

Matt finished it for him. "You sought out the lust-witch."

Brunel squeezed his eyes shut, nodding, shoulders sagging. "Thus I fell from Grace - and I turned wolf. Time and again I sinned; time and again I ran to my brother priests, for shriving. And time and again, I became a wolf."

It had only been a year. How often could 'time and again' be? "How many times have you gone were?"

"Three times," the priest said bitterly, "and now 'tis four. I sinned in my heart; and the moon rides high tonight. I knew that I had sinned, but there was no priest nearby. I could not confess my sin, nor therefore purge it from me; so I became a wolf."

He turned slowly to Matt, face brittle, eyes empty. "Oh, friend, if you have within you any vestige of mortal, human kindness, take that silver knife and stab me through the heart! Stay my breath! Let me die, that never more may I profane the earth with evil! Kill me now, I beg you! For only one like you, a wizard with a silver knife, can end my sinful life!"

"And one like me won't do it," Matt grated.

Brunel grabbed Matt's collar with both fists and shook him like a rat. "Slay me, wizard! Or, if I turn wolf again, I'll seek you out and tear your throat!"

A furnace roared, and a huge form blocked out stars.

Brunel whipped about, to see a miniature mountain in reptilian form bearing down on him, jaws gaping wide to blast.

"No, Stegoman!" Matt shouted, leaping up. "He didn't mean it! He was exaggerating!"

Flame exploded from the dragon's jaws. Brunel howled and leaped back - into moonlight. He kept on howling.

Matt stood over the fluxing, changing form, silver knife in hand.

"Stab him!" Stegoman commanded. "Now, whilst thou canst! Do not doubt him, Wizard - he will slay thee, an he can. Slay him now!"

Growling fury answered him. A huge, shaggy shape rose up from the ground with eyes of fire.

"Strike!" the dragon bellowed.

"I can't," Matt grated. "He isn't shriven; he'd go to Hell."

The wolf howled exultantly and sprang.

Matt dived to the side and rolled, fast. Behind him, he heard a flame-blast and a long-drawn howl of anguish. He rolled to his feet, ran around the charred and churning thing on the ground, and leaped up Stegoman's shoulders.

"Aye," the dragon rumbled as Matt landed between two huge fin-plates. "Rest thee there, the whiles I purify this thing with fire."

"No!" Matt snapped. "This is a good man, in spite of his sins and weakness! Back off, dragon! He's a force for the good!"

The churning form gathered itself and rose up, charred no longer, blood in its eye and murder in its throat.

"What good could be in such a monster?" Stegoman demanded. "What ails thee, Wizard? Thou'lt help Evil, if thou dost let this monster live."

"No, I'll weaken it! Don't ask me to explain - I know I'm right!"

The wolf stalked forward stiff-legged, snarling.

Stegoman stretched his jaws.

"Turn and go!" Matt bellowed, slamming his heels into the dragon's throat.

Stegoman swallowed abruptly, jaws slamming shut. The wolf howled and leaped, landing on the dragon's muzzle with twenty claws. Stegoman bellowed in anger and high octane, and the wolf fell back screaming, curled around a burned-out belly.

"Now!" Matt bellowed in fury. "Go now, before you torture him any more!"

Stegoman drew back his head, startled by Matt's vehemence.

"Go!" Matt howled. Behind him, he could hear the burbling sobs of a wounded creature.

Stegoman muttered in mutiny, but he waddled into motion. His legs might have been short in relation to his body, but that was a lot of body, and the legs were still six feet long. He could move them quickly, too. Matt had no doubts about the dragon being able to outrun the wolf - if he could get Stegoman moving at top speed. "Go! We've got to get the party moving fast! They've only got horses; we've got to make sure they get a good lead on the wolf!"

Stegoman jolted into his fastest pace. Matt hung on for dear life as the landscape blurred by. When the wolf's howl of fury rang out over the moor again, it was far behind.

Matt pulled into camp with a bit of difficulty; stopping a dragon was almost as difficult as getting him moving.

Alisande and Sir Guy stood armed and ready, the Black Knight scarcely more than a glimmer of face and a sheen of sword in his midnight armor. Sayeesa knelt behind them, throwing earth on the coals of the campfire.

"You're armed and ready to ride?" Matt couldn't believe it.

"How could we not be, with the racketing across the moor?" Alisande nodded her head toward Matt's back-trail as a long, hungry howl echoed through the night again.

"I get it." Matt's lips thinned. "You thought you were gonna have to come pull my bacon out of the fire again. Your faith in me is touching."

"The dragon was sufficient, then." Alisande took her hand off the pommel of her sword.

"Definitely, though possibly not the way you're thinking. The bacon at stake right now, though, is Father Brunel's."

Sayeesa looked up, alarmed.

Matt noted it and tried to ignore it. "He's coming across the moor, hell-bent for leather, and I don't think he really cares whose hide he takes to the tanners. Mount and ride!"

"Flee?" Sir Guy frowned. "From one lone wolf-man? Nay! We have swords and a silver blade."

"You really want him killed?" Matt demanded.

The knight hesitated, but Sayeesa cried, "Nay! He has offended man and God, aye, but he must not die for all that!"

"She speaks truth," Alisande said with grim conviction. She turned away to her horse. "Come, Sir Guy! We must ride out the night and this curse!"

Sir Guy pursed his lips and nodded, a gleam coming into his eye as he turned to his charger.

Matt looked as they pulled out of camp, with himself riding rearguard. A sleek, long-legged shape came loping over the rim of the moor as he watched.

They bent to the running, and Stegoman soon overhauled the horses and took the lead, in spite of Matt's protests. "No, no! We've got to stay back! I've got the only weapon that can do any good!"

"What good, when thou wilt not use it?" the dragon growled. He suddenly swerved to the side, just as a great white owl swooped low. The dragon's head snapped up, and he roared, "Harpies! Foul carrion females, preying on helpless fledglings!"

"No!" Matt wailed. "It's just an owl, Stego--"

The dragon blasted, and the owl shrieked, tumbling in flames toward the ground-and, tumbling, stretched, blurred, and hardened into the form of a man.

"Foul shorshererzh, who sheek dragon'zh blood," Stegoman growled.

Matt swallowed, hard.

The Sorcerer's form blurred again just before it landed. It shrank and hardened as it touched ground - and a dark-brown, three-foot iguana scuttled for cover.

"Lord Matthew," called Alisande, "what means this?"

"I get the feeling we're being watched," Matt called back. He had no doubt about whose orders the shape-changer had been following.

He also had a nagging suspicion that Sayeesa's presence wasn't the only reason Brunel had gone were.