Mouvar's Magic Read online

  Mouvar's Magic

  Kelvin of Rud

  Book 5

  Piers Anthony

  &

  Robert E. Margroff

  Copyright © 1992

  Cover art by Darrell K. Sweet

  ISBN: 0-812-51982-5

  CONTENTS

  Introduction

  Prologue

  Night

  Morning

  Story Time

  Scary Time

  Kiddy Time

  Dragon Time

  Chapter 1 Heroic Preparations

  Chapter 2 Unmated Dragon

  Chapter 3 Snoops

  Chapter 4 Hot Water

  Chapter 5 Reacquaintances

  Chapter 6 Helping Hand

  Chapter 7 Changed?

  Chapter 8 Gather By The River

  Chapter 9 Skirmish

  Chapter 10 Bratlings

  Chapter 11 Family Connections

  Chapter 12 Aborted Plans

  Chapter 13 Preparations For War: Zady's

  Chapter 14 Preparations For War: Helbah's

  Chapter 15 Return Engagement

  Chapter 16 Reconnaissance

  Chapter 17 Battle Of Giants

  Chapter 18 In Search Of Horace

  Chapter 19 Unexpected Allies

  Chapter 20 Retreat

  Chapter 21 Friend Or Foe?

  Chapter 22 Help Me, Devale

  Chapter 23 Atom Bomb

  Chapter 24 Trip To Roughmaul Mountain

  Chapter 25 Return Visit

  Chapter 26 Disappearance

  Chapter 27 Hell

  Chapter 28 Dragon Rage

  Chapter 29 Devale

  Chapter 30 Mouvar

  Epilogue

  Introduction

  This is the fifth and concluding novel in the fantasy series beginning with Dragon's Gold, continuing with Serpent's Silver, Chimaera's Copper, and Orc's Opal. Since there are more than fifty characters here, and a good deal of prior adventure, the reader who starts with this volume could have a problem getting his bearings. This novel can, however, stand by itself. To allay confusion, here is a summary of the major characters and their relation to each other. The minor ones should fall into place, as they normally are in scenes with one or more of the major ones.

  Professor Devale is the evil magician, with a taste for power and young female flesh. His chief tool is Zady, a malignant witch who was almost killed in the last novel. His opponent is the good magician Mouvar, offstage. The benign witch Helbah leads the forces of good.

  John Knight came originally from Earth by a weird accident. He married the evil Zoanna, but later escaped her and married the good Charlain. Their children are Kelvin, who became the unlikely Roundear of Prophecy, and Jon, his feisty little sister. John Knight later disappeared and was presumed dead, so Charlain married Hal Hackleberry. Then Hal strayed and John reappeared, so the couple was reunited, leaving the last names of their children somewhat in doubt. Kelvin married Heln, the daughter of St. Helens, one of John Knight's Earthly companions, and they had telepathic triplets: Charles, Merlain, and Dragon Horace. Jon married the son of Mor Crumb, Lester, and had Kathy Jon and three younger boys: Alvin, Teddy, and Joey.

  Glow was once enchanted into a sword, but she has been restored and is now Charles' girlfriend. She, too, is telepathic. She is looking for her brother Glint. There are also two perpetually juvenile kings, Kildom and Kildee, whom Glow helps watch. And Krassnose, Phenoblee, and Brudalous, who are huge fishlike orcs. Also the chimaera, whose three heads are named Mervania, Mertin, and Grumpus.

  Now hang on; this is a wild novel!

  Prologue

  Night

  The ugly old witch's face did not match her lusciously curved body. Midway up the neck the firm smooth throat became wrinkled chicken skin. There were warts on the beaked face, and gray hairs that contrasted sharply with the smooth nude body. She smelled bad, as if from twenty years of soaking in bird droppings.

  She stood in Professor Devale's study, there before his desk, glaring at him with just the right amount of malignancy.

  Professor Devale did not seem to be surprised or disturbed to find such a creature in his study. He looked up from his papers as if slightly bored. "Zady, I understand you lost your head," he said conversationally. He admired her beauty even beneath its accumulation of filth; of course he found other areas of her anatomy to be of far more interest than her face. Head bowed slightly, carefully repolishing his ever-polished horns, he was as pleased with her as was possible. What displeased him was her failure to conquer the dragon frame and bring him the master key opal.

  "You," Zady spat, producing a smoking drop of spittle, "didn't come to my rescue! For twenty years I nourished my strength and grew back my body. Now I'm back, I'm strong, and I want your attention."

  "Why, certainly, Zady." What a spitfire she was! Appropriately, as that red-haired niece of hers had been. He shouldn't allow such impudence in his office, but there were compensations he would soon extract.

  "I want to go back! I want this time to conquer. I want your help!"

  "Certainly, Zady. Otherwise you'd not be present."

  "You didn't help me before!" Zady accused him. "You allowed me to be defeated by those brats! Twenty years in the dragon frame is a long time! Twenty years of sheltering under a louse-infested bird's rump! Twenty years gradually growing arms and legs and all the rest! Why, Professor, didn't you help?"

  "Because, my dear Zady," he said with just a hint of annoyance, "that would have taught you nothing. You were to conquer, you were to bring me the opal. I provided the means. My participating in your revenge was not in our agreement."

  "But you—" The old hag face frowned in frustration. "You wanted—"

  "Yes, and now you have a younger body without resort to shape changing. All you'll need to change for me is your face. Possibly not always that."

  "You—! You—!" the old hag head mouthed, managing to produce some more smoking spittle.

  "Temper, temper, Zady!" the professor admonished. "Remember that I am the teacher. You want to conquer, you must conquer. As before I will provide you with the means. In return, of course, for compensation."

  "You mean—" Smooth hands gestured at smooth body, warm and now virginal. In this respect they understood each other perfectly; their words were mere games.

  "Of course, of course. As you say, twenty years in the dragon frame is a long time. But you must not assume, my malignant friend, that I will depart from custom."

  "Why not? Doesn't Mouvar?"

  "Oh, Zady, Zady, how little you know. And with all your centuries! Mouvar only appeared to appear. The real Mouvar is not a green dwarf. The real Mouvar was not ignominiously defeated by that frame's inept magician. All was of a fabric—a pretense for the purpose of creating a legend and a hero to work to his final purpose."

  "And that purpose is?" Zady demanded.

  "Oh, Zady, I was afraid you'd ask. I do not know; I have been who I am for too long. All I know is that neither—neither Mouvar nor I—interfere directly. To do so would bring us into direct confrontation with each other, and that would be out of form."

  "You are saying," Zady grated through ugly teeth, "that a green dwarf shape is not Mouvar's true form?"

  "Correct, Zady."

  "But he was there, several times. And elsewhere. Setting up John Knight and Charlain to become parents of Kelvin. Providing Kelvin with weapons. Arranging for the creation and birth of his brats."

  "Correct again, Zady, as far as you go. Mouvar is always indirect. I have to be also."

  "That doesn't make sense to me. I interfere as much as I can."

  "That is because you are a tool instead of a prime mover. I am the one who
must be indirect."

  "Then it's you and Mouvar as much as malignant magic practitioners against benign magic practitioners? As much as Kelvin and prophecy against an otherwise established fate?"

  "Your grasp is quite astonishing. It's only through Mouvar's indirect interference that Kelvin's kind has triumphed as much as it has."

  "Then I wait your interference!" Zady said. "Direct or indirect, there's no difference."

  "Ah, but Zady, there is. Mouvar took centuries in the dragon frame to set up what you will now knock down. He foresees events but cannot always control them. I foresee less clearly but just as certainly. If I take direct action in human affairs I risk more than you can know. A draw is the most I can hope for from this particular contest, with just a chance for personal victory."

  "Mouvar's defeat?"

  "Yes."

  "I don't believe any such thing," Zady said. "If you wanted to you could destroy my enemies and Mouvar."

  "It's proper that you think so. You are supposed to think so. Mouvar and I are both too powerful ever to meet in open conflict. If we did the contested world would be destroyed along with its inhabitants. Mouvar and I in mortal combat would send frame after frame crashing."

  "Then you won't come out? Won't battle directly?"

  "Not directly. But indirectly, perhaps, as necessary."

  "You want my kind victorious?"

  "Always. It's like the game the humans play called chess. Mouvar moves and I move, but neither of us moves ourselves upon the board."

  "Like chess but with more pieces."

  "Exactly. But with pieces of more varied and unequal powers."

  The beautiful young witch with the old, ugly face stared at the handsome, horned professor from her rheumy yellow eyes. He could imagine her thinking, turning over and over what she had only just learned. Thinking now not about Kelvin or the hoped-for victory. Rather she would be considering the larger implications.

  Zady, he thought, standing, ready to take her shapely body into his scaly arms, this time you'll win. When this is over the goody-goodies will be gone; your kind, my favorite kind, will throughout the dragon frame predominate. There will be no Kelvin Hackleberry left alive and Mouvar will have wasted centuries.

  "Zady," he said aloud, "come to your professor. Come now and we will dance."

  She held back, but not, he knew, from coyness. "You will give me your help, Professor?"

  "All that is necessary," he promised. "All that you will need to make Kelvin Knight Hackleberry's world a world ruled by malignant magic."

  He grabbed her quickly, to claim his reward.

  Morning

  Glow was lovelier than she had ever been, thought young Charles Knight. He sat contentedly on the riverbank, watching her disrobe for an early swim. Her curves were just perfect, and her face—what a lovely, glowing countenance!

  It had been twenty years, he thought, remembering as she dived. He watched the water splash, the ripple rings form. Twenty years ago she had been an enchanted sword. Though but a child he had disenchanted her, with Helbah's help. Their father, Kelvin, had saved his sister's life, and he, scared little Charles, had somehow found the courage to kick Zady's severed head from off the high precipice. In his mind's eye he saw it turning over and over, wailing as it fell. It was after that that he had performed the magic and brought Glow out of his dreams and into his life. Twenty years later and they still only planned.

  "And what are you doing, as if I don't know?" He turned to see Merlain, his coppery-haired sister, emerge from the woods. A real beauty, she, and like himself still unmarried. Being telepathic, the three of them shared an intimacy that was more than body and sometimes seemed more than mind. They had decided long ago that when Merlain had a suitable mate the four of them would wed. Alas, finding another telepath, or even a nontelepath of the right quality, was taking time. But time was what he and his sister most had. The tiny bit of chimaera powder that had allowed them to be born had at the same time given them all indefinitely extended lifetimes. But Glow still had the nightmares in which her gleaming sharp edge was being used against those she loved and cherished.

  "Well?" Merlain persisted.

  He shrugged. "You know quite well. Did you find Horace?"

  "No!" She looked a little worried. "But I think I know where he's gone. Darn dragon, you'd think that he could wait."

  "Yes," he said absently, "dragons do live for centuries, but dragons are dragons."

  "He's our brother!"

  "Yes." He and Merlain were not twins; they were two of triplets, and the third was the dragon. Without the chimaera's intervention they would have been a chimaera: a woman's head, a man's head, and a dragon's head on one giant scorpiocrab body complete with long, copper sting. Though separate, they were closer than triplets, because of an incidental legacy of the chimaera: telepathy.

  "Do you think we should call him? Before he's out of range?" She meant with their minds, for Horace had the same mental power. The young dragon was keeper of the magic opal and overking of the Alliance. Unlike normal dragons Horace had copper scales instead of gold. The three of them had been affectionate friends and playmates all their lives, but spring was spring and the dragon was the carrier of an ancient urge. The same urge Charles had when he gazed at naked Glow, and so became vulnerable to his sister's teasing.

  "No," Charles said, ruminating, "we shouldn't bother him."

  "But he might get in trouble!" the beautiful copper-haired girl said. "He's never been with other dragons. He won't know how to behave."

  "That's why he's going. You know he's smarter than dragons he'll find. He needs to find his own kind, as you do too."

  Merlain frowned, seemingly from distaste. She plunked her pretty bottom down on their favorite boulder. She studied her reflection. "At least he's got dragon territory to go to. Sometimes I wish there was a telepath territory."

  "Some chance!" They'd searched everywhere and asked everyone. Even Helbah couldn't help. Yet somewhere there had to be some male deserving of and deserved by his sister.

  "Oh, there you are!" Glow called. She came dripping wet in all her beauty. She was oblivious of her nudity except when her brattling charges were around. Hers was an enormous responsibility. Kildom and Kildee were kings who aged only one year for a normal human's four. The extended childhood was supposed to make for expanded learning, but the terrible twins rarely displayed that. In their case it seemed to mean expanded time for mischief. Now an apparent twelve years old—never mind that they were in their mid-thirties in actual years—they were curious boys slowly developing into arrogant men.

  Charles took off his leatherskin jacket and positioned it on the boulder, hoping Glow would perch there. Instead the lovely girl put on her correct underclothes and her neatly starched white nannydress. Then she joined them. She knew his hope, of course. She wasn't teasing him; she just preferred not to tempt him.

  "Kildom, Kildee, and Helbah have some business with your parents. That's why I have the day off. We might just as well enjoy the spring while they spend the day in talk."

  "I can't imagine those brats discussing anything seriously," Charles said. "Mom and Dad, perhaps."

  "Well, they are. Your granddad and grandma will be with them. I don't know what it's about. It's certainly Helbah doing it."

  "I wonder if it could have something to do with Dad's prophecy?" Merlain asked. "You know." She recited the lines that always made Charles wince:

  A Roundear there Shall Surely be

  Born to be Strong, Raised to be Free

  Fighting Dragons in his Youth

  Leading Armies, Nothing Loth

  Ridding his Country of a Sore

  Joining Two, then uniting Four

  Until from Seven there be one

  Only then will his Task be Done

  Honored by many, cursed by Few

  All will know what Roundear can Do.

  "Most likely," Charles said when the recital was done, "it's to do with Zady. Helbah has alway
s insisted she'd be coming back. Twenty years ago Dad struck her head off and I kicked it off the cliff. Then you, Merlain, claimed you saw an eagawk carrying it."

  "I did!" Merlain insisted. "Proof of that is that the head was never recovered. Helbah thinks there's some counter-magic that prevented her finding it."

  "Most likely the eagawk dropped it," Charles said. "You two believe what you want, but I don't think she's coming back."

  The two girls looked as if on a worse day they might have argued. They might believe him wrong, but it was too nice a day to be bickering with those you knew were your very best friends. Besides, had either of them looked into his mind, Charles knew they would have gleaned his uncertainty.

  Story Time

  The big, gray-haired, gray-bearded man with the gnarled face definitely had round ears. He sat there in Charles Lomax's Wine and Chess House, sipping a short mug of dark red. He was toying with a king, in the meantime joking it up with Danceye Nellie, the serving maid all men swore had to have the biggest jugs in town.

  "That him?" The tall, bronzed man had the mark of an adventurer. He nodded now at the table, as Charlie had expected him to do.

  Charlie wiped at the bar where the noon patrons had spilt. He prided himself on reading types. This man was the sort he had soldiered with when he was young and idolized the man at the table. But the questioner was a stranger.

  "I'm Charlie Lomax. I own this place. Introduce yourself and I might tell you."

  "You might?" The stranger seemed amused at this middle-aged man's near challenge. It was as though he knew perfectly well that he could get the information without troubling himself. "I'm Dack. Tim Dack. I've been poking around dragon territory, looking for scale."

  "Dangerous business." Charlie gripped Dack's firm, rough hand in his decidedly pudgier one. It had been a long time since he had been soldiering. "You there long?"

  "Better than half a year."

  "You bring back a lot of scale?"

  Dack shook his head. "They shed 'em but I didn't find many. Mostly I escaped with my life."