“Asterios!” Killer repeated. “I know you for what you are. Come forth!”
Gillis stood up.
Maisie looked up, reached up— and recoiled, staring. She jumped to her feet, threw her arms around him, and somehow forced him back to his seat.
“ASTERIOS COME FORTH!” Killer yelled once more.
Gillis tried to rise, and Maisie held him down, whimpering. Ariadne was clinging almost as tightly to Jerry, staring across at her former husband and shivering.
Again Killer made his call.
Carlo lurched to his feet and jumped over the side of the wagon to land on the balls of his feet, crouched like a wrestler.
Maisie screamed and then burst into tears.
Carlo put his head back and roared. His head was growing
Ariadne clutched Jerry even more fiercely and buried her face against him. He struggled to free himself and tried to stand up, Tig held him down with one hand.
“We all promised, Jerry!” he repeated. “We must not help him.”
“But why?” Jerry squealed. Carlo was no longer visible— it was Asterios now, still swelling and growing, ripping the remains of its clothes from the inhumanly hairy, inhumanly bulky body, the animal head directed toward Killer.
“It is the only way Killer can return,” Tig said grimly. “He was in the cottage when you issued the invitation.”
“But Killer went back!” Jerry noticed that his own voice was almost a scream. “I sent him back!” Sven turned around from studying the Asterios transformation to look at Jerry. “Killer has not been back in Mera. He was allowed about this close. Clio and Helga came out and nursed him back to health.” Oh no! This was a long way from the center of faerie… “How long did that take?”
“About a year,” Sven said. “North Gate has been closed all that time.”
“He said he’s talked to the Oracle!” The red-gold head was shaken gently. “He lived in a tent out here. He hasn’t been into the city. He hurt bad for months, Jerry.” God… Jerry buried his face in his hands. Then he looked up, smelling the hateful stench, seeing the enormous bulk of Asterios looming at the side of the wagon.
Tig said, “Once he started to get better, you’d be astonished how many people came out to visit him. They had to be lowered down the wall in a basket, hundreds.”
“Clio…” said Jerry, trying to imagine this strange un-Meran situation. “Girls, I suppose?” Tig smiled grimly. “Clio understands. All sorts of people, just for friendship— hundreds. Mera showed how much it appreciates him, Jerry.”
“But what happens now?”
“We watch,” Tig said. “Your friend Gervasse has talked to the Oracle many times. They worked this out. This is a better place to fight than the Labyrinth.”
“Watch?” Jerry wailed. “Is that all we can do?” Sven nodded. “It must be Killer, and no man may help him.”
The change was complete. Asterios threw its head back and bellowed, the terrible roar that had echoed around the cottage and through the Labyrinth and which now came rolling faintly back from the walls of Mera.
Asterios charged. Killer crouched, waiting, watching the horns approach— then leaped aside, swinging the sword. Both seemed to have missed, and Asterios came to a stop, swung around, and bellowed thunderously again.
“I made no bleeding promise!” Jerry squirmed against that clamp on his shoulder and was forced down again.
“You stay there, or I’ll wrap that wand around your neck!” Tig said, sounding as though he meant it.
Asterios charged again across the turf. This time Killer ran also, and they rushed headlong at each other— and Killer jumped, swinging the sword beneath him, and the monster threw itself flat. Then it was up again before Killer could recover his balance, incredibly fast, whirling around and grabbing for him with its great gorilla arms. Killer’s sword flashed, and the two jumped apart simultaneously, blood streaming from the Minotaur’s side. The watchers cheered, but Killer did not take his eyes off his enemy.
Asterios started to back away, seeking to gain ground for another charge, and Killer paced after. Even with the length of the sword, the short man’s reach was hardly greater than those arms and if Asterios ever got its hands on him…
Carlo… why Carlo? Jerry had expected Gillis.
Asterios lunged, reaching out his arms and then whipping them back to safety before the flash of Killer’s sword, while the deadly horns scythed at human flesh. Killer was fast, superbly fast, but he did not have the brute reflexes of the monster.
Or the reflexes of a demon. A demon in daylight was not at its best, but it was still a demon.
Again they paced, the Minotaur seeking ground, Killer denying it. Another lunge, another escape. Now the Minotaur advanced, head down, and Killer retreated.
Asterios rushed, the sword flashed and thudded against the massive bony head, while the arms below reached out. Killer jumped back, stumbled, struck again. That massive skull was impenetrable, it was both shield and weapon; the arms below were vulnerable, but also certain death if they ever connected with the man. There was no science for fighting Mino-taurs— Killer was inventing it as he went along. Round and round, to and fro… he wiped his forehead with his free arm. The monster was bleeding from the gash on its side, and several cuts on its head were streaming blood also, but in a battle of endurance it would be Killer whose mortal flesh would fail first.
Helpless, Jerry squirmed, and the others cursed and ground their teeth beside him. Gods were being invoked: Thor, Hercules, Mars, Jesus, and Medinet Habu.
“What happens if he loses?” Jerry demanded. “Then it comes for the rest of us?” Even under the blue thatch, Tiglath’s face looked sick. “No. It is Killer it wants. If we stay in the wagon we are safe.” Somehow that made it worse.
Then the Minotaur bellowed and charged, thrusting with its horns— right, left, right— and Killer backed frantically, thrashing at the head with his sword, seeking an eye, severing an ear, fighting now for space, and being steadily pushed back across the blood-spattered grass. One horn caught the sword, twisting it sideways, momentarily out of play. The arms reached for Killer, and he squirmed out of reach, teetered off balance, and was caught by the horns.
The massive head swung up with a roar of triumph; Killer went spinning through the air like a ball in one direction, and his sword went flashing away in the other.
Fourteen
Killer hit the turf and lay still, dead or broken or unconscious. Asterios stared over toward him for a moment and then turned to survey the wagonload of onlookers. It raised its head in another bellow of triumph, mocking the onlookers’ impotent fury. Then, still breathing hard from its exertions, the monster turned its back on them once more and paced in leisurely fashion over to its victim.
Jerry wailed. “If we all go? All of us?”
“NO!” Sven thundered. “There is a deal. The Oracle said we must not, and we promised.” Ariadne had been tempered in a thousand battles with a lawyer.
”What did the Oracle say?” she demanded. “Its exact words?” It was little Jean-Louis who answered. “It said, ‘Asterios wants Killer more than it wants Howard. It has agreed that he may have a sword and the rest of you will be safe in the wagon; the legions will stay away. I have agreed that no man will help Achilles.’ ” The Minotaur still had its back to them, standing and staring down at Killer, idly kicking his head from side to side.
“Right!” she said. Grabbing the wand from Jerry’s limp hand, she vaulted over the side of the wagon and was running before she reached the ground. She heard the roars of outrage behind her being choked back.