of wood and dry moss and anything else that might blaze. “A big, smoky fire. Keep it between you and the centycore.” Actually, the monster could go around the fire to get at the woman, but that wasn’t the point. The fire was merely the mechanism to generate smoke.
“I can do that,” Chameleon agreed. Imbri accelerated, leaving the centycore puffing behind, veered near a megalithic column, and braked as rapidly as she could without throwing her rider. Why hadn’t she tried a fast deceleration, or bucking, when the Horseman had ridden her? Because she, like a dumb filly, hadn’t thought of it. But she suspected it wouldn’t have worked anyway; the man understood horses too well to be deceived or outmaneuvered by one. Hence his name—the man who had mastered the horse.
Chameleon dismounted and scurried behind the megalith while Imbri galloped ostentatiously off, attracting the monster’s baleful attention. It worked; the centycore snorted after her, never glancing at the woman. It probably preferred the taste of horsemeat anyway. Imbri was relieved; if the monster had turned immediately on the woman, there could have been real trouble.
Imbri led the monster a merry chase, keeping tantalizingly close so as to monopolize its attention. Meanwhile, Chameleon dashed about, diligently gathering scraps of wood and armfuls of dry leaves and grass.
In due course the blaze started. A column of smoke puffed up.
“Ho!” the centycore exclaimed, pausing. “What’s this?”
Imbri paused with him, not wanting him to spy the woman behind the column. “That’s a fire, hornface,” she projected. “To burn you up.”
“It won’t burn me up!” the centycore snorted, the tines of his antler quivering angrily. “I will put it out!”
“You couldn’t touch it,” Imbri sent, her dreamlet showing the monster yelping as he got toasted on the rump by a burning brand.
“So you claim,” the centycore muttered, glancing at his posterior to make sure there was no burning brand being shoved at it. He approached the flame. Imbri skirted it to the other side and reached Chameleon, who climbed eagerly on her back. The woman evidently had been afraid, with excellent reason, but had performed well anyway. That was worth noting; she might not be smart, but she had reasonable courage.
The centycore kicked at the fire. A piece of wood flew out, starting a secondary blaze a short distance away. “You won’t put it out that way, bearsnoot,” Imbri projected with a picture of a burning branch falling on the monster’s antler and getting caught in it. The dream centycore shook his head violently, but the brand only blazed more brightly, toasting his snoot. In a moment the antler began to burn.
“Stop that!” the monster snapped, shaking his antler as if it felt hot.
“You’ll burn to pieces!” Imbri dreamed, causing the image’s antler to blaze more fiercely. Jets of flame shot out from each point, forming bright patterns in the air as the monster waved its antler about. The patterns shaped into a big word: FIRE.
“Enough!” the centycore screamed. He leaped for the moat and dunked his horn. That doused the dream flame; reality was too strong for it. But Imbri did manage to dream up a subdued fizzle where the points entered the water.
“Hey!” the nix protested, picking up the dream image. He froze the water around the antler, trapping the centycore head-down. The monster roared with a terrible rage and ripped his head free, sending shards of ice flying out. The nix changed to a fish and scooted away, daunted.
Now the centycore scooped icy water toward the fire with his antler. But the fire was too big and too far away; only a few droplets struck it, with furious hissing. Hell had no anger like that of a wetted fire, as Imbri knew from experience.
The centycore considered. Then he scooped up a hornful of muck from the edge of the moat and hurled that toward the fire. There was a tremendous hiss as the blob scored,
“I can do that,” Chameleon agreed. Imbri accelerated, leaving the centycore puffing behind, veered near a megalithic column, and braked as rapidly as she could without throwing her rider. Why hadn’t she tried a fast deceleration, or bucking, when the Horseman had ridden her? Because she, like a dumb filly, hadn’t thought of it. But she suspected it wouldn’t have worked anyway; the man understood horses too well to be deceived or outmaneuvered by one. Hence his name—the man who had mastered the horse.
Chameleon dismounted and scurried behind the megalith while Imbri galloped ostentatiously off, attracting the monster’s baleful attention. It worked; the centycore snorted after her, never glancing at the woman. It probably preferred the taste of horsemeat anyway. Imbri was relieved; if the monster had turned immediately on the woman, there could have been real trouble.
Imbri led the monster a merry chase, keeping tantalizingly close so as to monopolize its attention. Meanwhile, Chameleon dashed about, diligently gathering scraps of wood and armfuls of dry leaves and grass.
In due course the blaze started. A column of smoke puffed up.
“Ho!” the centycore exclaimed, pausing. “What’s this?”
Imbri paused with him, not wanting him to spy the woman behind the column. “That’s a fire, hornface,” she projected. “To burn you up.”
“It won’t burn me up!” the centycore snorted, the tines of his antler quivering angrily. “I will put it out!”
“You couldn’t touch it,” Imbri sent, her dreamlet showing the monster yelping as he got toasted on the rump by a burning brand.
“So you claim,” the centycore muttered, glancing at his posterior to make sure there was no burning brand being shoved at it. He approached the flame. Imbri skirted it to the other side and reached Chameleon, who climbed eagerly on her back. The woman evidently had been afraid, with excellent reason, but had performed well anyway. That was worth noting; she might not be smart, but she had reasonable courage.
The centycore kicked at the fire. A piece of wood flew out, starting a secondary blaze a short distance away. “You won’t put it out that way, bearsnoot,” Imbri projected with a picture of a burning branch falling on the monster’s antler and getting caught in it. The dream centycore shook his head violently, but the brand only blazed more brightly, toasting his snoot. In a moment the antler began to burn.
“Stop that!” the monster snapped, shaking his antler as if it felt hot.
“You’ll burn to pieces!” Imbri dreamed, causing the image’s antler to blaze more fiercely. Jets of flame shot out from each point, forming bright patterns in the air as the monster waved its antler about. The patterns shaped into a big word: FIRE.
“Enough!” the centycore screamed. He leaped for the moat and dunked his horn. That doused the dream flame; reality was too strong for it. But Imbri did manage to dream up a subdued fizzle where the points entered the water.
“Hey!” the nix protested, picking up the dream image. He froze the water around the antler, trapping the centycore head-down. The monster roared with a terrible rage and ripped his head free, sending shards of ice flying out. The nix changed to a fish and scooted away, daunted.
Now the centycore scooped icy water toward the fire with his antler. But the fire was too big and too far away; only a few droplets struck it, with furious hissing. Hell had no anger like that of a wetted fire, as Imbri knew from experience.
The centycore considered. Then he scooped up a hornful of muck from the edge of the moat and hurled that toward the fire. There was a tremendous hiss as the blob scored,
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