Shea shouted, leaped, and caromed into his wife, knocking her aside. The huge head slammed down into the ground right where she had been.
"Darling!" Shea cried, scrambling to his feet. "Are you ..."
The hydra roared with frustration, and the head hooked up toward him, jaws gaping.
Shea sprang back, anger at the monster surging Belphebe might be lying injured! He had to get rid of that head! He lunged up as it went past him, stabbing just below the jaw. Blood spurted, and the head screamed, whipping up and away, splashing the side of Shea's face. He shouted and leaped back, wiping frantically at the fluid; it burned! He wiped it clear with his sleeve, feeling a tingling in his forearm, but then- was no time to worry about that now. The head gone, he could see Belphebe climbing to her feet, and relief shot through him, followed by blood-lust—he had to kill the creature before it had a chance to hurt Belphebe again!
It gave him the opportunity, for though the wounded head hung back, thrashing, its neighbor struck down at Shea, jaws wide. He leaped aside, stabbing up with his sword. He missed the nose; the head swerved, tracking him, and the huge mouth came down all about him; his head filled with a charnel reek, but he managed to riposte and stab again, at the soft palate.
A shriek like that of a dozen steam engines filled his whole head, and the gaping maw lifted away from him abruptly, wrenching the sword-grip from his hand. Shea staggered back, senses reeling, and Belphebe's bowstring thrummed. The monster howled again, and Belphebe was beside Shea, her arm beneath his shoulders steadying him, while she cried, "Harold, are you hurt?"
"B-bow," he managed to gasp, pointing frantically at her weapon. "Sword ... gone ..."
Belphebe understood, and also understood that he had not suffered any vital injury. She leaped to catch up her bow—but just then, a huge cloud of fragrant smoke blew past them, and Chalmers' voice rose.
The monster's six remaining heads whipped up, noses pointing straight at the sky. The whole form of the beast began to change color, starting at the tail and sweeping quickly over the body, turning brown, then roughening with the texture of oak bark. The heads quivered as the cellulose tide swept over them; then they were all frozen, rooted to the spot, transformed into a living tree. The tendrils at the tops of the heads sprouted leaves; the legs and drooping, dead heads dug into the earth, turning into roots.
Shea relaxed with a very shaky sigh. "Amazing, Doe. Why didn't you change him into stone, though?"
"Too much danger of radioactivity," Chalmers snapped.
Shea turned, surprised at the tension in his voice; but Chalmers threw a handful of powder into his little fire and called out,
Shea stared, then leaped to yank his sword out of one of the fallen wooden mouths. If he was going to have an evil enchanter to face, he wanted to be armed.
Belphebe nocked another arrow.
A gust of wind blew the smokes powder in with the fumes from the cauldron, and the whole swirled toward the cave, churning in as though being sucked into a vacuum. Coughing and spluttering came from the darkness, and a tubby figure in a midnight blue robe came running out, rubbing at its eyes and crying, "Gas attack! Unfair! Unethical!"
"Votsy!" Shea cried.
Chalmers rose to his feet with a weary sigh. "I might have known."
Polacek wiped at his streaming eyes. "Don't get me wrong, I really appreciate the help—but did you have to be so caustic: about smoking me out?
"My apologies," Chalmers said, making it sound like an accusation. "Rumor said the monster was animated by an evil magician."
"Evil! Careless, maybe—possibly even not completely a master. But, evil? You know me better than that, Doc!"
"Yes, but I didn't know it was you who had raised the hydra. I take it the beast went out of control?"
"You can say that again! It was barely there before it was trying to eat me! The only thing that saved me was a handy hole in the ground, a tiny passageway between two caves that the monster couldn't worm its way through! I've been hiding out there for weeks, living on a trickle of water and whatever food I could conjure up."
"Could be worse," Shea said. "Czech cooking is good."
"Yeah, but I don't know the recipes. All I could order up was whatever I'd heard singing commercials for."
Shea winced, thinking of two weeks on patent breakfast cereal—without even milk!
"Whatever possessed you to conjure up a hydra?" Chalmers demanded.
"You did, Doc."
"Me?"
"Yeah. I mean, you told me I should play it careful, try my experiments on a very small scale ... you remember, that was right after that blizzard ..."
"On Midsummer's Night, yes," Chalmers said grimly.
"Right. So I was trying to conjure up a pond-water hydra—you know, one of those microscopic creatures from freshman zoology? As small as you can get and have all the characteristics of animal life, including sexual reproduction—the ideal subject for a limited-scope experiment ..."
"And you messed up the spell," Shea inferred.
"Right."
"just a matter of scale," Chalmers said witheringly.
"No, I think I got the context wrong. You see, the only way I could think up a verse, was to base it on Greek mythology, and ..."
"... you finished with the original rather than its namesake," Chalmers sighed. "Mr. Polacek, perhaps you should restrict your experimentation to more controlled conditions."
Which meant, of course, with Chalmers standing by.
Polacek frowned. What do you mean? That I m not qualified to practice on my own? I finished my course work, you know!
"Yes, but the research for a dissertation should always be supervised. Besides," said Chalmers, "I do not believe your coursework was in the area of magic."
"Well ... related." Polacek looked sulky. "Jung and mythology, you know."
"Quite so—but that brings it all the more within my province, too," Chalmers pointed out.
Shea took his opportunities where he could find them. "That's kind of what I wanted to talk to you about, Votsy."
"Wanted to talk to me?" The incongruity of Shea's presence finally penetrated Polacek's indignation. "Yeah, come to think of it! What're you doing here, Harold? You're supposed to be back in Ohio! Along with your lovely lady, I might add." He caught Belphebe's hand and kissed it. She smiled, pleased, and dropped a half-curtsy.
"I was trying to find you," Shea said, trying to hide his annoyance—all right, jealousy. "I had to cover for all three of you being gone ...
"All three?" Polacek frowned.
Shea sighed, striving for patience. "Bayard went, too," he reminded Polacek. "You're not the only one who's universe-jaunting, you know."
"Oh, yeah! Come to think of it, that did kind of leave you in a bind, didn't it?"
"So nice of you to think of it," Shea said, with sarcasm. "I explained your communal absence by inventing a research project that you're all supposedly studying on-site."
"Nice trick." Polacek grinned. "How'd you manage it? This isn't archaeology, you know."
"Don't I ever," Shea sighed. "I explained it to President Athanael as a study in delusional universes, describing a patient's delusions with symbolic logic, then working out the intermediate steps that would allow us to bring him back into contact with the real world, a little at a time."