The Oathbound Wizard

"Aye, but not by that name." Robin Hood winked at Robin Goodfellow. "He is a staunch ally, and a merry one."

"I'd have to agree, even if he does insist on having his favors paid back."

"Paid back?" Robin frowned, and might have said more if he hadn't noticed Puck's shushing motions. Instead, he said, "He tells me that you are sworn to overthrow a brutal monarch who does grind his people into the dirt."

Matt might have known Puck would state it in a very colorful style. "Yes, though I should have realized what I was getting myself into. And at the moment, most of the king's forces are besieging that castle down there. They have a good friend of mine, who's a very powerful fighter, penned up in there, and I think that we can break him out—but only if I'm on the inside with him."

Robin was nodding. "Much as Puck did say. And you do think that, with us to aid you, you can cut through that force?" He indicated the army in the valley below with a negligent toss of his head.

"Yes—if Puck does his part." Matt noticed that Maid Marian and Yverne were already chatting like old pals and wondered about it—but they did come from similar backgrounds..."Does that seem, uh, a little unrealistic to you? I mean, altogether, we can't number more than a hundred or so..."

"An hundred twenty-three, with you and your friends. It will suffice." Robin grinned.

"Suffice? Look, at a guess, there are ten thousand men down there...

"Only a thousand of whom will be anywhere near us—and the Goodfellow assures me that most of those will be mad with itching. Fear not, Lord Wizard—our bows are strung, and our quivers are full."

"Well, yes—but are you sure they won't be empty before you come to the drawbridge?"

Robin seemed to become more serious, but his eyes still gleamed with amusement. "Our quivers are ever full, no matter how many arrows we shoot." He clapped a hand on Matt's shoulder. "Be of good heart, Lord Wizard—we shall prevail." He looked straight into Matt's eyes, and somehow, Matt was totally certain they'd come through to the castle intact.

Then Robin turned away, and the conviction faded a bit. "Always full?" Matt muttered. "I thought magicians had a monopoly on magic in this universe!"

"Not on the magic that is inherent in the being," Puck countered. "Could yon dracogriff fly in your world? Could he even exist?"

"Well, no," Matt admitted, "not a hybrid between a bird and a reptile, no..."

"Yet in this world, 'tis possible—but even in being, it is magical. Thus you may be sure that Robin and his men have quivers ever full, no matter how many arrows they may loose. After all, have you ever heard of their running out?"

"Now that you mention it..."

"Or of their fletching more arrows?"

"Not really. But what if a bowstring snaps?"

Puck dismissed the notion with a wave. "An unlikely thing—yet were it to hap, there would ever be fresh strings in their pouches."

"Fantastic!"

"Is it not? But then, do they not draw their strength from the fantasies of the common folk?"

"I don't know," Matt muttered. "Do they?"

Robin came back up to Matt. "We are ready, Lord Wizard."

Matt's stomach sank. To ignore it, he said, "Uh...Puck assures me you really do never run out of arrows, or bowstrings..."

" 'Tis even so." The glint of amusement showed in Robin Hood's eye again.

"How do you manage that? I mean, is there a spell you say just before action, or...

Robin Hood cut him off with a shrug. "I ken not, Lord Wizard, though I doubt not your interest. Yet for me and mine—why ask? That is simply the way of it. Come now, to battle."

"Uh—right" Matt looked around. "I'm afraid I didn't come properly prepared for this expedition. Would you have an extra quarterstaff?"

"Do not heed him," Fadecourt said to Robin Hood, then turned to Matt. "And do not heed yourself. Do you think there will be no sorcerers there, who seek to undo Puck's spell? Do you think there will be no wicked magi, 'gainst whose spells we would be as children?"

"All right, all right." Matt sighed "I'll stick to my last." He whipped the wand out of his belt "En garde! Away, 'gainst the Army of Evil!"

Dusk was fading into night as Puck, standing on a boulder, made a few gestures reminiscent of small life-forms with many legs, scuttling and climbing about, as he chanted something in a language Matt couldn't understand; it seemed to be mostly squeaking and squealing. But it was very effective; Matt could almost see invisible creepies crawling about, just beyond Puck's fingertips. Maybe he had a closer association with them than Matt knew.

The army below suddenly fell deathly silent. Then it erupted into a cacophony of yells and howls.

"Now!" Robin Hood sprang forward down the path.

Matt ran to keep up with him. "Can you really see where you're going?"

"This star-filled sky is bright, compared with the gloom of Sherwood's night! Have a care, Lord Wizard—the path is not quite even."

Matt stumbled and regained his balance, but that put him far enough behind so that he was caught up among his companions, in the middle of Robin Hood's company. Little John, Maid Marian, and Will Scarlet went merrily leaping ahead, down the hillside and into the army. Quarterstaves whirled, clearing a path for them to an accompaniment of yells and curses. Matt saw a soldier freeze in midscratch, then grab at his sword—and suddenly, an arrow was standing in his chest, and he was reeling backward Then he was gone, and they were pounding past the place where he'd been, but Matt was trying to remind his stomach that its place was with him.

Then an enemy sorcerer rose up on horseback, waving his wand. Matt didn't wait to hear what the man was saying, or to see its results; he just called out,

"Your very, very rapid, unintelligible patter
Isn't likely to be heard,
And if it is, it doesn't matter!"

Then he snapped his wand down, pointing straight at the sorcerer. The man reeled in his saddle and fell, out cold. The ranks closed and hid the fallen sorcerer—but ahead, two knights, groaning with the torture of the suppressed urge to scratch, stepped together to block the group's path, swords swinging high.

Maid Marian thrust her quarterstaff between one's ankles and twisted as she leaped aside. The man tumbled, flailing—and as he fell, she swung the staff, knocking his sword spinning away. Then her quarterstaff rose up and slammed down.

Matt winced.

The other knight was struggling with an arrow that had somehow appeared between his shoulder piece and his breastplate. Little John reached out with a quarterstaff and tipped him aside.

Then Matt saw Friar Tuck parry a sword cut from a madly scratching trooper, riposte—and freeze. The outlaw next to him ran an arrow into the trooper, while Tuck's lips moved. Matt couldn't hear what he was saying, but followed the direction of his gaze, and saw a sorcerer with a striped foolscap waving a wand in a spiral, roughly in Tuck's direction. Matt lifted his own wand, but before he could say anything, the sorcerer crumpled like tinfoil under a horse's hoof.

Tuck turned away, his lips thin, and slapped another trooper aside with the flat of his blade.

Then Narlh roared behind him, and Matt risked a quick glance. A knight ran hooting, clutching at the seat of his iron pants.

And Matt slammed into the back of the man in front of him.

It was Fadecourt, who reached up in time to keep Matt from tipping over. "Have a care! We've come to the moat!"

Matt looked up and saw a huge blackness rushing toward him with a roaring clatter of chain.

But they had to stand still while they waited for the drawbridge to descend, and a sorcerer's chant pierced the din. Suddenly, the knights and men-at-arms nearby were rushing them, a hundred pikes and a dozen human tanks with swords and shields, pikes stabbing, edges whirling to cut.