reality.
“You’ll get your no-no wet!” the nix cried, evilly teasing her.
Chameleon blushed yet again—she seemed to have an excellent supply of blush, as pretty women did—but held her pose. The dream mare moved into deep water, swimming across. The real mare did likewise.
“Nix! Nix!” the sprite cried, caught halfway between fish and man forms. He vaporized the water.
The real mare and woman sank—but the dream pair continued swimming. “It’s not too deep here,” the dream mare called. ‘We can run along the bottom and still breathe. In just a moment we’ll be across!”
“Hey!” the nix exclaimed angrily. “Nix, nix, I’ll nix you!” And he froze the water.
Now the real mare was able to slog upward through the cold slush and get her head and the woman’s above water so they could breathe again. She plowed clumsily forward.
But the dream mare was stuck. “I can’t move!” that mare cried. ‘We’re frozen in tight!”
“Serves you right, nocturnal nag!” the nix shouted jubilantly. “You can’t cross without the password!”
“We must turn back!” the dream mare said despairingly.
“Yes, turn back,” dream Chameleon agreed, though she did not seem fully convinced.
“You’re doing well,” the dream-in-dream Imbri woman figure reassured her on that level.
Meanwhile, the real mare pulled free of the slush and swam on toward the megaliths. Progress was faster as the water cleared.
“We’ll never get across!” the dream mare wailed.
“Never!” the dream girl agreed enthusiastically.
But the nix was not completely gullible. “Hey—those are your dream images! Real mares can’t talk!” He blinked, orienting on the real-life situation—and discovered how they had tricked him. He had been so busy snooping on the supposedly private dream that he had neglected reality, as Imbri had intended. “Nix! Nix! Nix!” he screamed from a fish mouth set in a human face, hurling a vapor spell. The water thinned about them, dropping them down—but now they were close to the far side, and the moat was becoming shallow.
Imbri galloped up the slope, and her head dipped under water only momentarily. The nix froze the water; the mare scrambled up on top of it, as here in the shallower region the freezing was solid.
“Can I breathe now?” the dream Chameleon pleaded.
“Breathe!” Imbri responded, clambering to shore. They had made it!
Behind them, the nix sank wrathfully into a region of vaporizing ice, his human head set on a fish’s body. “You females tricked me!” he muttered. Then, looking at the forming cloud of ice vapor: “I never did believe in sublimation.”
“It is the nature of males to be gullible,” Imbri agreed in a dreamlet, making a picture of the nix formed as a human being with the head of a fish, wearing a huge dunce cap, while an ice storm swirled about him.
They climbed out of the moat and stood wetly before the stone structure. It was immense. Each vertical stone was the height of an ogre, crudely hewn, dauntingly massive.
They had little time to gawk. A monster came charging along the inner edge of the moat. The creature was horrendous. It had horse-hooves, a lion’s legs, elephantine ears, a bear’s muzzle, a monstrous mouth, and a branching antler projecting from the middle of its face. “Ho, intruders!” the beast bellowed in the voice of a man. “Flee as well as you can so I may have the pleasure of the hunt!”
Imbri recognized the monster. It was a centycore. This was a creature without mercy; no use to reason with it. They would need either to stop it or to escape it.
Imbri ran. She was a night mare; she could outrun anything. She left the centycore behind immediately.
Chameleon screamed and almost fell off. She was still an inexpert rider, not at all like the cruel Horseman, and could readily be dislodged by a sudden move. Imbri had to slow, letting the poor woman get a better hold on her mane. Then she accelerated again in time to
“You’ll get your no-no wet!” the nix cried, evilly teasing her.
Chameleon blushed yet again—she seemed to have an excellent supply of blush, as pretty women did—but held her pose. The dream mare moved into deep water, swimming across. The real mare did likewise.
“Nix! Nix!” the sprite cried, caught halfway between fish and man forms. He vaporized the water.
The real mare and woman sank—but the dream pair continued swimming. “It’s not too deep here,” the dream mare called. ‘We can run along the bottom and still breathe. In just a moment we’ll be across!”
“Hey!” the nix exclaimed angrily. “Nix, nix, I’ll nix you!” And he froze the water.
Now the real mare was able to slog upward through the cold slush and get her head and the woman’s above water so they could breathe again. She plowed clumsily forward.
But the dream mare was stuck. “I can’t move!” that mare cried. ‘We’re frozen in tight!”
“Serves you right, nocturnal nag!” the nix shouted jubilantly. “You can’t cross without the password!”
“We must turn back!” the dream mare said despairingly.
“Yes, turn back,” dream Chameleon agreed, though she did not seem fully convinced.
“You’re doing well,” the dream-in-dream Imbri woman figure reassured her on that level.
Meanwhile, the real mare pulled free of the slush and swam on toward the megaliths. Progress was faster as the water cleared.
“We’ll never get across!” the dream mare wailed.
“Never!” the dream girl agreed enthusiastically.
But the nix was not completely gullible. “Hey—those are your dream images! Real mares can’t talk!” He blinked, orienting on the real-life situation—and discovered how they had tricked him. He had been so busy snooping on the supposedly private dream that he had neglected reality, as Imbri had intended. “Nix! Nix! Nix!” he screamed from a fish mouth set in a human face, hurling a vapor spell. The water thinned about them, dropping them down—but now they were close to the far side, and the moat was becoming shallow.
Imbri galloped up the slope, and her head dipped under water only momentarily. The nix froze the water; the mare scrambled up on top of it, as here in the shallower region the freezing was solid.
“Can I breathe now?” the dream Chameleon pleaded.
“Breathe!” Imbri responded, clambering to shore. They had made it!
Behind them, the nix sank wrathfully into a region of vaporizing ice, his human head set on a fish’s body. “You females tricked me!” he muttered. Then, looking at the forming cloud of ice vapor: “I never did believe in sublimation.”
“It is the nature of males to be gullible,” Imbri agreed in a dreamlet, making a picture of the nix formed as a human being with the head of a fish, wearing a huge dunce cap, while an ice storm swirled about him.
They climbed out of the moat and stood wetly before the stone structure. It was immense. Each vertical stone was the height of an ogre, crudely hewn, dauntingly massive.
They had little time to gawk. A monster came charging along the inner edge of the moat. The creature was horrendous. It had horse-hooves, a lion’s legs, elephantine ears, a bear’s muzzle, a monstrous mouth, and a branching antler projecting from the middle of its face. “Ho, intruders!” the beast bellowed in the voice of a man. “Flee as well as you can so I may have the pleasure of the hunt!”
Imbri recognized the monster. It was a centycore. This was a creature without mercy; no use to reason with it. They would need either to stop it or to escape it.
Imbri ran. She was a night mare; she could outrun anything. She left the centycore behind immediately.
Chameleon screamed and almost fell off. She was still an inexpert rider, not at all like the cruel Horseman, and could readily be dislodged by a sudden move. Imbri had to slow, letting the poor woman get a better hold on her mane. Then she accelerated again in time to
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