The Hand Of Oberon

«I've noticed it,» he replied. «I was just trying to decide on the best way to head out for a better look. I do not relish the notion of walking a broken Pattern. On the other hand, I was wondering what I would be laying myself open to if I tried heading in across the blackened area. What do you think?»

«Walking what there is of the Pattern would take some time,» I said, «if the resistance is on par with what it is at home. Also, we have been taught that it is death to stray from it - and this setup would force me to leave it when I reach the blot. On the other hand, as you say, I might be alerting our enemies by treading on the black. So -»

«So neither of you is going to do it,» Ganelon interrupted. «I am.»

Then, without waiting for a reply, he took a running leap into the black sector, raced along it toward the center, paused long enough to pick up some small object, turned and headed back. Moments later, he stood before us.

«That was a risky thing to do,» Random said. He nodded.

«But you two would still be debating it if I hadn't.»

He raised his hand and extended it.

«Now, what do you make of this?»

He was holding a dagger. Impaled on it was a rectangle of stained pasteboard. I took them from him.

«Looks like a Trump,» Random said.

«Yes.»

I worked the card loose, smoothed down the torn sections. The man I regarded upon it was half familiar - meaning of course that he was also half strange. Light, straight hair, a trifle sharp-featured, a small smile, somewhat slight of build.

I shook my head.

«I do not know him,» I said.

«Let me see.» Random took the card from me, frowned at it.

«No,» he said after a time. «I don't either. It almost seems as though I should, but…No.»

At that moment, the horses renewed their complaints much more forcefully. And we needed but turn part way to learn the cause of their discomfort, in that it had chosen that moment to emerge from the cave.

«Damn,» said Random. I agreed with him.

Ganelon cleared his throat, took forth his blade.

«Anyone know what it is?» he asked quietly.

My first impression of the beast was that it was snakelike, both from its movements and because of the fact that its long thick tail seemed more a continuation of its long thin body than a mere appendage. It moved on four double-jointed legs, however, large-footed and wickedly clawed. Its narrow head was beaked, and it swung from side to side as it advanced, showing us one pale blue eye and then the other. Large wings were folded against its sides, purple and leathery. It possessed neither hair nor feathers, though there were scaled areas across its breast, shoulders, back, and along the length of its tail. From beak-bayonet to twisting tail-tip it seemed a little over three meters. There was a small tinkling sound as it moved, and I caught a flash of something bright at its throat.

«Closest thing I know,» said Random, «is a heraldic beast - the griffin. Only this one is bald and purple.»

«Definitely not our national bird,» I added, drawing Grayswandir and swinging its point into line with the creature's head.

The beast darted a red, forked tongue. It raised its wings a few inches, then let them fall. When its head swung to the right its tail moved to the left, then left and right, right and left-producing a near-hypnotic, flowing effect as it advanced.

It seemed more concerned with the horses than with us, however, for its course was directed well past us toward the spot where our mounts stood quivering and stamping. I moved to interpose myself. At that point, it reared.

Its wings went up and out, spreading like a pair of slack sails suddenly caught by a gust of wind. It was back on its hind legs and towering above us, seeming to occupy at least four times the space it had previously. And then it shrieked, a god-awful, hunting scream or challenge that left my ears ringing. With that, it snapped those wings downward and sprang, becoming temporarily airborne.

The horses bolted and ran. The beast was beyond our reach. It was only then that I realized what the bright flash and the tinkling had represented. The thing was tethered, by means of a long chain running back into the cave. The exact length of its leash was immediately a question of more than academic interest.

I turned as it passed, hissing, flapping, and falling, beyond us. It had not possessed sufficient momentum to obtain true flight in that brief rush upward. I saw that Star and Firedrake were retreating toward the far end of the oval. Random's mount lago, on the other hand, had bolted in the direction of the Pattern.

The beast touched ground again, turned, as if to pursue Iago, appeared to study us once more, and froze. It was much nearer this time - under four meters - and it cocked its head, showing us its right eye, then opened its beak and made a soft cawing noise.

«What say we rush it now?» said Random.

«No. Wait. There is something peculiar about its behavior.»