Piers Anthony & Robert E. Margroff - Kelvin 5 - Mouvar's Magic

Mouvar's Magic

Piers Anthony and Robert E. Margroff

Kelvin of Rud, book 5

CONTENTS

Introduction

Prologue

Chapter 1.Heroic Preparations

Chapter 2.Unmated Dragon

Chapter 3.Snoops

Chapter 4.Hot Water

Chapter 5.Reacquaintances

Chapter 6.Helping Hand

Chapter 7.Changed?

Chapter 8.Gather by the River

Chapter 9.Skirmish

Chapter 10.Bratlings

Chapter 11.Family Connections

Chapter 12.Aborted Plans

Chapter 13.Preparations for War: Zady's

Chapter 14.Preparations for War: Helbah's

Chapter 15.Return Engagement

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Chapter 16.Reconnaissance

Chapter 17.Battle of Giants

Chapter 18.In Search of Horace

Chapter 19.Unexpected Allies

Chapter 20.Retreat

Chapter 21.Friend or Foe?

Chapter 22.Help Me, Devale

Chapter 23.Atom Bomb

Chapter 24.Trip to Roughmaul Mountain

Chapter 25.Return Visit

Chapter 26.Disappearance

Chapter 27.Hell

Chapter 28.Dragon Rage

Chapter 29.Devale

Chapter 30.Mouvar

Epilogue

Introduction

This is the fifth and concluding novel in the fantasy series beginning withDragon's Gold, continuing with

Serpent's Silver, Chimaera's Copper, andOrc's Opal. Since there are more than fifty characters here,

and a good deal of prior adventure, the reader who starts with this volume could have a problem getting

his bearings. This novel can, however, stand by itself. To allay confusion, here is a summary of the major

characters and their relation to each other. The minor ones should fall into place, as they normally are in

scenes with one or more of the major ones.

Professor Devaleis the evil magician, with a taste for power and young female flesh. His chief tool is

Zady, a malignant witch who was almost killed in the last novel. His opponent is the good magician

Mouvar, offstage. The benign witchHelbah leads the forces of good.

John Knightcame originally from Earth by a weird accident. He married the evilZoanna, but later

escaped her and married the goodCharlain. Their children areKelvin, who became the unlikely

Roundear of Prophecy, andJon, his feisty little sister. John Knight later disappeared and was presumed

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dead, so Charlain marriedHal Hackleberry. Then Hal strayed and John reappeared, so the couple was

reunited, leaving the last names of their children somewhat in doubt. Kelvin marriedHeln, the daughter of

St. Helens, one of John Knight's Earthly companions, and they had telepathic triplets:Charles, Merlain,

andDragon Horace. Jon married the son ofMor Crumb, Lester, and hadKathy Jon and three younger

boys:Alvin, Teddy, andJoey.

Glowwas once enchanted into a sword, but she has been restored and is now Charles' girlfriend. She,

too, is telepathic. She is looking for her brotherGlint. There are also two perpetually juvenile kings,

Kildom andKildee, whom Glow helps watch. AndKrassnose, Phenoblee, andBrudalous, who are huge

fishlike orcs. Also thechimaera, whose three heads are namedMervania, Mertin, andGrumpus.

Now hang on; this is a wild novel!

PROLOGUE

Night

The ugly old witch's face did not match her lusciously curved body. Midway up the neck the firm smooth

throat became wrinkled chicken skin. There were warts on the beaked face, and gray hairs that

contrasted sharply with the smooth nude body. She smelled bad, as if from twenty years of soaking in

bird droppings.

She stood in Professor Devale's study, there before his desk, glaring at him with just the right amount of

malignancy.

Professor Devale did not seem to be surprised or disturbed to find such a creature in his study. He

looked up from his papers as if slightly bored. "Zady, I understand you lost your head," he said

conversationally. He admired her beauty even beneath its accumulation of filth; of course he found other

areas of her anatomy to be of far more interest than her face. Head bowed slightly, carefully repolishing

his ever-polished horns, he was as pleased with her as was possible. What displeased him was her failure

to conquer the dragon frame and bring him the master key opal.

"You," Zady spat, producing a smoking drop of spittle, "didn't come to my rescue! For twenty years I

nourished my strength and grew back my body. Now I'm back, I'm strong, and I want your attention."

"Why, certainly, Zady." What a spitfire she was! Appropriately, as that red-haired niece of hers had

been. He shouldn't allow such impudence in his office, but there were compensations he would soon

extract.

"I want to go back! I want this time to conquer. I want your help!"

"Certainly, Zady. Otherwise you'd not be present."

"You didn't help me before!" Zady accused him. "You allowed me to be defeated by those brats!

Twenty years in the dragon frame is a long time! Twenty years of sheltering under a louse-infested bird's

rump! Twenty years gradually growing arms and legs and all the rest! Why, Professor, didn't you help?"

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"Because, my dear Zady," he said with just a hint of annoyance, "that would have taught you nothing.

You were to conquer, you were to bring me the opal. I provided the means. My participating in your

revenge was not in our agreement."

"But you—" The old hag face frowned in frustration. "You wanted—"

"Yes, and now you have a younger body without resort to shape changing. All you'll need to change for

me is your face. Possibly not always that."

"You—! You—!" the old hag head mouthed, managing to produce some more smoking spittle.

"Temper, temper, Zady!" the professor admonished. "Remember that I am the teacher. You want to

conquer, you must conquer. As before I will provide you with the means. In return, of course, for

compensation."

"You mean—" Smooth hands gestured at smooth body, warm and now virginal. In this respect they

understood each other perfectly; their words were mere games.

"Of course, of course. As you say, twenty years in the dragon frame is a long time. But you must not

assume, my malignant friend, that I will depart from custom."

"Why not? Doesn't Mouvar?"

"Oh, Zady, Zady, how little you know. And with all your centuries! Mouvar only appeared to appear.

The real Mouvar is not a green dwarf. The real Mouvar was not ignominiously defeated by that frame's

inept magician. All was of a fabric—a pretense for the purpose of creating a legend and a hero to work

to his final purpose."

"And that purpose is?" Zady demanded.

"Oh, Zady, I was afraid you'd ask. I do not know; I have been who I am for too long. All I know is that

neither—neither Mouvar nor I—interfere directly. To do so would bring us into direct confrontation with

each other, and that would be out of form."

"You are saying," Zady grated through ugly teeth, "that a green dwarf shape is not Mouvar's true form?"

"Correct, Zady."

"But he was there, several times. And elsewhere. Setting up John Knight and Charlain to become

parents of Kelvin. Providing Kelvin with weapons. Arranging for the creation and birth of his brats."

"Correct again, Zady, as far as you go. Mouvar is always indirect. I have to be also."

"That doesn't make sense to me. I interfere as much as I can."

"That is because you are a tool instead of a prime mover. I am the one who must be indirect."

"Then it's you and Mouvar as much as malignant magic practitioners against benign magic practitioners?

As much as Kelvin and prophecy against an otherwise established fate?"

"Your grasp is quite astonishing. It's only through Mouvar's indirect interference that Kelvin's kind has

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triumphed as much as it has."

"Then I wait your interference!" Zady said. "Direct or indirect, there's no difference."

"Ah, but Zady, there is. Mouvar took centuries in the dragon frame to set up what you will now knock

down. He foresees events but cannot always control them. I foresee less clearly but just as certainly. If I

take direct action in human affairs I risk more than you can know. A draw is the most I can hope for

from this particular contest, with just a chance for personal victory."

"Mouvar's defeat?"

"Yes."

"I don't believe any such thing," Zady said. "If you wanted to you could destroy my enemies and

Mouvar."

"It's proper that you think so. You are supposed to think so. Mouvar and I are both too powerful ever

to meet in open conflict. If we did the contested world would be destroyed along with its inhabitants.

Mouvar and I in mortal combat would send frame after frame crashing."

"Then you won't come out? Won't battle directly?"

"Not directly. But indirectly, perhaps, as necessary."

"You want my kind victorious?"

"Always. It's like the game the humans play called chess. Mouvar moves and I move, but neither of us

moves ourselves upon the board."

"Like chess but with more pieces."

"Exactly. But with pieces of more varied and unequal powers."

The beautiful young witch with the old, ugly face stared at the handsome, horned professor from her

rheumy yellow eyes. He could imagine her thinking, turning over and over what she had only just learned.

Thinking now not about Kelvin or the hoped-for victory. Rather she would be considering the larger

implications.

Zady,he thought, standing, ready to take her shapely body into his scaly arms,this time you'll win.

When this is over the goody-goodies will be gone; your kind, my favorite kind, will throughout the

dragon frame predominate. There will be no Kelvin Hackleberry left alive and Mouvar will have

wasted centuries.

"Zady," he said aloud, "come to your professor. Come now and we will dance."

She held back, but not, he knew, from coyness. "You will give me your help, Professor?"

"All that is necessary," he promised. "All that you will need to make Kelvin Knight Hackleberry's world

a world ruled by malignant magic."

He grabbed her quickly, to claim his reward.

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Morning

Glow was lovelier than she had ever been, thought young Charles Knight. He sat contentedly on the

riverbank, watching her disrobe for an early swim. Her curves were just perfect, and her face—what a

lovely, glowing countenance!

It had been twenty years, he thought, remembering as she dived. He watched the water splash, the

ripple rings form. Twenty years ago she had been an enchanted sword. Though but a child he had

disenchanted her, with Helbah's help. Their father, Kelvin, had saved his sister's life, and he, scared little

Charles, had somehow found the courage to kick Zady's severed head from off the high precipice. In his

mind's eye he saw it turning over and over, wailing as it fell. It was after that that he had performed the

magic and brought Glow out of his dreams and into his life. Twenty years later and they still only planned.

"And what are you doing, as if I don't know?" He turned to see Merlain, his coppery-haired sister,

emerge from the woods. A real beauty, she, and like himself still unmarried. Being telepathic, the three of

them shared an intimacy that was more than body and sometimes seemed more than mind. They had

decided long ago that when Merlain had a suitable mate the four of them would wed. Alas, finding

another telepath, or even a nontelepath of the right quality, was taking time. But time was what he and his

sister most had. The tiny bit of chimaera powder that had allowed them to be born had at the same time

given them all indefinitely extended lifetimes. But Glow still had the nightmares in which her gleaming

sharp edge was being used against those she loved and cherished.

"Well?" Merlain persisted.

He shrugged. "You know quite well. Did you find Horace?"

"No!" She looked a little worried. "But I think I know where he's gone. Darn dragon, you'd think that he

could wait."

"Yes," he said absently, "dragons do live for centuries, but dragons are dragons."

"He's our brother!"

"Yes." He and Merlain were not twins; they were two of triplets, and the third was the dragon. Without

the chimaera's intervention they would have been a chimaera: a woman's head, a man's head, and a

dragon's head on one giant scorpiocrab body complete with long, copper sting. Though separate, they

were closer than triplets, because of an incidental legacy of the chimaera: telepathy.

"Do you think we should call him? Before he's out of range?" She meant with their minds, for Horace

had the same mental power. The young dragon was keeper of the magic opal and overking of the

Alliance. Unlike normal dragons Horace had copper scales instead of gold. The three of them had been

affectionate friends and playmates all their lives, but spring was spring and the dragon was the carrier of

an ancient urge. The same urge Charles had when he gazed at naked Glow, and so became vulnerable to

his sister's teasing.

"No," Charles said, ruminating, "we shouldn't bother him."

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"But he might get in trouble!" the beautiful copper-haired girl said. "He's never been with other dragons.

He won't know how to behave."

"That's why he's going. You know he's smarter than dragons he'll find. He needs to find his own kind, as

you do too."

Merlain frowned, seemingly from distaste. She plunked her pretty bottom down on their favorite

boulder. She studied her reflection. "At least he's got dragon territory to go to. Sometimes I wish there

was a telepath territory."

"Some chance!" They'd searched everywhere and asked everyone. Even Helbah couldn't help. Yet

somewhere there had to be some male deserving of and deserved by his sister.

"Oh, there you are!" Glow called. She came dripping wet in all her beauty. She was oblivious of her

nudity except when her brattling charges were around. Hers was an enormous responsibility. Kildom and

Kildee were kings who aged only one year for a normal human's four. The extended childhood was

supposed to make for expanded learning, but the terrible twins rarely displayed that. In their case it

seemed to mean expanded time for mischief. Now an apparent twelve years old—never mind that they

were in their mid-thirties in actual years—they were curious boys slowly developing into arrogant men.

Charles took off his leatherskin jacket and positioned it on the boulder, hoping Glow would perch there.

Instead the lovely girl put on her correct underclothes and her neatly starched white nannydress. Then she

joined them. She knew his hope, of course. She wasn't teasing him; she just preferred not to tempt him.

"Kildom, Kildee, and Helbah have some business with your parents. That's why I have the day off. We

might just as well enjoy the spring while they spend the day in talk."

"I can't imagine those brats discussing anything seriously," Charles said. "Mom and Dad, perhaps."

"Well, they are. Your granddad and grandma will be with them. I don't know what it's about. It's

certainly Helbah doing it."

"I wonder if it could have something to do with Dad's prophecy?" Merlain asked. "You know." She

recited the lines that always made Charles wince:

A Roundear there Shall Surely be

Born to be Strong, Raised to be Free

Fighting Dragons in his Youth

Leading Armies, Nothing Loth

Ridding his Country of a Sore

Joining Two, then uniting Four

Until from Seven there be one

Only then will his Task be Done

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Honored by many, cursed by Few

All will know what Roundear can Do.

"Most likely," Charles said when the recital was done, "it's to do with Zady. Helbah has always insisted

she'd be coming back. Twenty years ago Dad struck her head off and I kicked it off the cliff. Then you,

Merlain, claimed you saw an eagawk carrying it."

"I did!" Merlain insisted. "Proof of that is that the head was never recovered. Helbah thinks there's some

counter-magic that prevented her finding it."

"Most likely the eagawk dropped it," Charles said. "You two believe what you want, but I don't think

she's coming back."

The two girls looked as if on a worse day they might have argued. They might believe him wrong, but it

was too nice a day to be bickering with those you knew were your very best friends. Besides, had either

of them looked into his mind, Charles knew they would have gleaned his uncertainty.

Story Time

The big, gray-haired, gray-bearded man with the gnarled face definitely had round ears. He sat there in

Charles Lomax's Wine and Chess House, sipping a short mug of dark red. He was toying with a king, in

the meantime joking it up with Danceye Nellie, the serving maid all men swore had to have the biggest

jugs in town.

"That him?" The tall, bronzed man had the mark of an adventurer. He nodded now at the table, as

Charlie had expected him to do.

Charlie wiped at the bar where the noon patrons had spilt. He prided himself on reading types. This man

was the sort he had soldiered with when he was young and idolized the man at the table. But the

questioner was a stranger.

"I'm Charlie Lomax. I own this place. Introduce yourself and I might tell you."

"You might?" The stranger seemed amused at this middle-aged man's near challenge. It was as though he

knew perfectly well that he could get the information without troubling himself. "I'm Dack. Tim Dack. I've

been poking around dragon territory, looking for scale."

"Dangerous business." Charlie gripped Dack's firm, rough hand in his decidedly pudgier one. It had been

a long time since he had been soldiering. "You there long?"

"Better than half a year."

"You bring back a lot of scale?"

Dack shook his head. "They shed 'em but I didn't find many. Mostly I escaped with my life."

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"Good practice. You want to know about that gentleman?"

Dack nodded. "He's not John Knight, Kelvin's father?"

"Nope. He's Kelvin's father-in-law. Sean Reilly, commonly known as St. Helens."

"I've heard of him." Dack seemed about to walk over.

"Wait until she comes back. He's still got his temper. He might think it's her you want to see."

Nellie whooped suddenly and pretended to brain the roundear with her serving tray. St. Helens made a

slap at her seating arrangement. When she got back to the bar the tips of her pointed ears were red.

"That man!" she said to her employer, dark eyes dancing. "If he doesn't quit joking me he'll be the death

of me."

"More likely the life of you if he has his lecherous way." He took her tray, observing again that she really

was pretty, top-heaviness aside. Sometimes St. Helens called her "Dolly," though he hadn't worked out

why.

"I'll tell you what, Dack. I'll introduce you. But then you'll have to buy a round of wine."

"Fair enough." Dack was halfway across the room in long strides before he caught up with him. St.

Helens looked up from the chessboard, probably wondering if this were an autograph seeker or some

scribe intent on getting an article.

"St. Helens, this is Tim Dack. He says he's a man back fresh from dragon territory."

St. Helens nodded, looking first at Dack's pointed ears. Four times in recent years men had come in

who were descendants of John Knight's company from Earth; without exception they had wanted to

meet someone who had known their father. He held out his hand and they shook.

"Dack wants to talk with you and he asked me to sit in. He's buying a round of red when Nel gets back.

New keg of the dark to be tapped."

St. Helens belched. Dack pulled out a chair and sat down across from him. Charlie took the empty chair

to the side.

St. Helens waited, toying with the chess piece. He and his business partner, Phillip Blastmore, onetime

king of the former kingdom of Aratex, had made money on the game they had introduced. Everyone

knew about St. Helens' business, and most knew his history. St. Helens, as many, many people had

discovered, generally liked to talk.

"General Reilly," Dack began. Like most people the respect he felt made him hesitant.

"St. Helens," St. Helens said. If he had not had an immediate favorable impression of the man he would

not have corrected him.

"St. Helens, I've read and heard about your exploits all my life. I know how you and John Knight and a

company of roundears, all soldiers from some place called Earth, arrived in our world by magic. You and

he and the other roundears—"

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"Army unit, and it wasn't magic, or at least my old commander, John Knight, always claimed it wasn't.

Science, he always said, as if it made any difference. I used to agree with him because he was the

commander, but these days I sort of lean to the majority."

"You think, then, that it was magic?"

St. Helens nodded. He looked away, as from a painful subject, giving the studied impression that he was

not about to elaborate. "So you want my story?" he asked in a way he supposed was unexpected.

Dack nodded. Poor fellow, he didn't know the former general of local troops.

"Well, sir, I was born on Earth, a world like this except that Earth was in some ways nicer and in some

ways worse. No magic on Earth to run things—none at all. Instead we had science, and with that we

accomplished things that here are accomplished by magic."

As he always did at this point, St. Helens paused and took a sip of wine. He rinsed it around in his

mouth, savoring its distinctive spicy flavor. He swallowed, then continued.

"I was in the North American army along with my commander, then Captain John Knight. I volunteered,

as did the rest who were with us. 'We want twelve volunteers. Reilly, you've just volunteered.' "

Dack chuckled appreciatively. Evidently he knew about armies.

"This big deal was to test an atomic missile that was clean. That meant it only killed people and did

nothing disastrous like poisoning valuable territory. We weren't supposed to any of us have been hit, but

somehow we were. The missile came in low and we all ducked and threw ourselves flat with our eyes

shut. The next thing any of us knew we were at the edge of the Flaw, that big, incredible crack in reality

you have here. We didn't any of us have any idea what had happened. Then we figured out that we really

were in a different world. Well, sir, we talked it over like regular fellows and not army men, and—"

On and on, telling his familiar story. Dack could have been an unusual type of scholar and author, but

Charlie doubted that he was. No matter; he liked hearing his old friend's tale as told by his old friend. If it

hadn't been for his business of making chessmen and boards—none of the work actually done by himself,

of course, or Phillip Blastmore—he could have made money lecturing.

"...and so there the kid was, stuck with his prophecy!" St. Helens was saying much later. "My old

commander's son, and him in the Rud Queen's prison and me in the Aratex palace with very young

Phillip. Kelvin wasn't the sort to believe in prophecy, but thanks to his father he had the ears, and now he

had the gauntlet. Well, after the kid whipped the big guardsman in the public park, there was no doubt in

anyone's mind that he was genuine. All this time Jon, his pointed-ear little sister—and let me tell you she

was a pretty good man with that sling of hers—was in that terrible auction place. My own dear daughter,

Heln, was there too. Now I guess you know how guards used to be at those places. Poor little Heln, as

delicate a lass as you ever saw, was ravished. You see, she had the ears, thanks to me, and no

prophecy. When the filthy guardsman had finished with her, all she could think to do was die. But little

Jon was there, and she had some dragonberries. Those things are poison to you with pointed ears, but in

us roundears they work different. Jon didn't mean any harm with the berries, but Heln grabbed them and

swallowed them. Instead of dying as she wanted, Heln had this strange experience. Let me tell you, what

happened to her then took away all thoughts of dying."

Nellie brought a fresh jug. She put it down by the chessboard and seated herself midway between her

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Piers Anthony & Robert E. Margroff - Kelvin 5 - Mouvar's Magic

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