Robin Hood loosed six arrows, almost too fast for the eye to follow, and the six knights fell, with arrows sticking out of various joints. More arrows filled the air, and Puck was shrieking something arcane in Matt's ear. For his own part, he sang out,
The sorcerer fell, and the men-at-arms and knights let out a howl as the itching hit them redoubled. But their racket was drowned out by the huge thud of the drawbridge striking earth.
"Across!" Robin yelled, and the merry men ran for the great gateway, thundering across the bridge. Matt was shocked to see that several of them carried wounded comrades—he hadn't realized they'd suffered casualties of their own.
A hundred throats howled like baying dogs, and Matt risked a quick look back. In spite of the itch, armored men were pelting toward the lowered drawbridge—but a hail of crossbow bolts rained down on them. Matt turned away and ran.
They were in the gatehouse, but still running—and the portcullis was down across its end! Matt whirled—betrayed! But the drawbridge was already up and rising fast. Torches burned along the stone tunnel, and Matt could see Robin Hood, grinning in elation, as were most of his men—except Tuck, who was sighing and beating his breast.
Suddenly, Matt was very much aware of glittering eyes behind the arrow slits in the wall, and was even more aware that those slits could rain arrows to skewer them all. Worse, Robin and his men would fire back—and their arrows never missed, not even so small a target as the murder holes. Matt had no wish to see his allies slaughter one another.
"Who are you, and why are you come?" a voice behind a murder hole asked.
"Friends!" Robin Hood shouted to the tunnel in general, but Matt was elbowing his way toward the slit from which the question had come. He had recognized the voice. "I am Matthew Mantrell, Lord Wizard of Merovence!" he cried. "I am come in aid of my comrades, Sir Guy de Toutarien, Max, and Stegoman!"
The portcullis rose up so fast Matt thought the law of gravity had been inverted—and the Black Knight stood there in a pool of torchlight, arms spread wide. "Sir Matthew, my friend and ally! Praise Heaven you are come!"
But Narlh shouldered past, every muscle stiff, eyes bulging, staring at the huge, scaly form beyond Sir Guy. Then he charged, bellowing, "You misbegotten son of a sea snake and a buzzard! You're dead, monster, you are bait!"
CHAPTER 18
Strange Allies
Narlh scrabbled roaring toward the dragon. Sir Guy shouted and jumped into the dracogriff's path, trying to block him, but Narlh hurdled him in a single bound and sailed toward the bigger reptile.
A blast of flame filled the air between them.
Narlh hit the ground, flattened himself against it until the fire had died, then sprang at its source. The dragon leaped back and snapped, "Invader! Interloper! Go, get thee gone! Come not near these good folk!"
"Pretty loud, for a bully! But I'm not a half-grown drakling any more, you pie-eyed prowler!" He pounced, but the dragon leaped high, and people fled to the walls of the courtyard, screaming.
"Oh, yeah? Well, I can fly, too!" Narlh launched himself up, teeth slashing.
"Do you dare, half heart? I bade you go when you did trespass before! I bid you go now, or I'll hurl you o'er the wall!"
"Bade?" Narlh shrieked, outraged. "You did a lot more than bid, snake-face! You gave me a royal roasting, that's what you did! Toast this, you bat-winged belly-crawler!" And he pounced on the dragon like a hawk on a mouse.
Or an alligator, rather. The dragon twisted away from beneath him, all but his tail—and the dracogriff seized the tip with a bite like a vise. The dragon bellowed in anger more than pain—but also in high octane, and the flame swept the wall, just above the heads of the screaming spectators. The fire cut off, and they fled for doorways.
"Separate them, my friend!" Sir Guy cried.
"Darn right I will!" Matt answered.
Not the world's greatest verse, but it worked well enough—huge iron grids suddenly appeared around all six sides of both monsters, clashing shut and dropping them to the courtyard surface with a crash.
"Lemme outa here!" Narlh tore at the bars in frustration. "Whaddaya think you're doing, Wizard?"
"Trying to prevent two of my friends from hurting each other!"
Both monsters froze, staring at Matt. Then, in chorus, they roared, "Friends?"
"He's a bully and a homicidal maniac!" Narlh screeched.
"This abomination is an insult to all Dragondom, and a trespasser besides!" the dragon howled.
"It was my beast of a father who was the abomination, you half-crocked-dile!" Narlh bellowed. "He seduced my mother and flew laughing away! Her, the most beautiful, innocent griffin that ever was! And you have the gall to defend him?"
The dragon froze. Then he said, in glacial tones, "No. And if 'tis true, he will die battling a dozen dragons. His is the right of defense, but ours is the privilege of enforcing our law. Only tell me his name, and I will hale him before the High Council, to answer for his misdeeds with tooth and flame."
"I don't know his name!" Narlh bleated in agony. "He didn't exactly leave us his pedigree and his coat of arms, y'know! All he left was me—and a ravaged soul!"
The dragon crouched, eyes smoldering. At last, he said, "His deed shames me, and all dragonkind. We will seek him out, we will tear him."
"Oh, yeah, sure! The only thing you tear is half-fledged wanderers with dreams in their heads!"
The dragon glowered at him, then said, "None may enter the realm of the Free save themselves alone—or their guests."
Matt decided it was time to jump in—literally. He landed between the two cages, holding up a palm toward the dracogriff. "Hold it, Narlh!"
The monster gulped, then coughed and gasped. "Don't do that, Wizard! You know what it's like to swallow a fireball?"
The dragon stared, then swung his head toward Matt. "He is thy friend, Matthew!"
"Yes," Matt said. "He has saved my life twice, at least."
Narlh stared, frozen. Then, slowly, he turned his head toward Matt, and there was bitterness and blame in every line of his face.
"Don't look at me like that!" Matt held up both hands, beseeching. "There's a reason for it—what Stegoman did to you! He wouldn't do it again for the life of him!"
"Oh?" Narlh's syllable dripped sarcasm. "I suppose a demon made him do it, huh?"
"Of a kind, yes—the demon rum, or its first cousin."
"Doing what?" Sir Guy stepped up, frowning from one beast to the other, his hand on his sword.
"Burned Narlh and chased him out of the air, so badly that he fell, and just barely survived," Matt said, his voice low. "Stegoman was on sentry duty at the border of Dragondom, Sir Guy—and he was drunk."