“Hm. Doubtless we’ll meet eventually. Judging from the intelligence we’ve gathered, I’d say our forces are superior. And we do have the element of surprise.”
The hallway behind Incarnadine had filled with milling Guardsmen.
Incarnadine pointed at Snowclaw. “What the devil is that monster doing here? I thought I gave orders never to let …” He broke off suddenly and smiled. “But of course, I forget. Excuse me. Snowclaw, is it not? Yes. Well, no matter.” He turned to the Guardsman next to him. “Kill them all.”
“Yes, Your Majesty!”
Incarnadine turned away and the Guardsmen edged forward.
Sir Gene and Linda backstepped, but Snowclaw stood his ground, broadax raised.
The Guardsmen hesitated. They knew the beast they faced.
Snowclaw said over his shoulder, “Run, you guys!”
Sir Gene took off.
“Move!” Snowclaw barked.
Linda saw three Guardsmen charge Snowclaw. As she ran she heard the clash of steel and then a scream. At the corner of the intersecting hallway she cast a glance back. Two of the Guardsmen were down and the third was retreating.
She yelled, “Snowy, run for it!”
Snowy ran for it, and Linda dashed down the corridor, hearing Snowy’s big feet coming up fast behind her. There was no sign of Gene. She sprinted to an intersection, looked both ways, and fled across it.
Snowy was close behind. “Where’s Gene?” he yelled.
“I don’t know!”
Running by an alcove, she caught sight of someone pressed up against the inside wall. It was Gene. She skidded to a stop and backstepped.
“Gene?”
Gene gave her a strange look.
Snowy scouted down the hall, then came back.
“Soldiers coming,” he said. “Can’t tell if they’re ours or theirs.”
Looking worried, Sir Gene peered out. “I suspect Incarnadine invaded in force. They’ll be all over the castle, and they know it as well as we do.”
There was an aspect leading out of the alcove, one Linda didn’t recognize. The world didn’t look inviting: sand, rocks, and straggly bushes.
“We’ll have to duck through a portal,” Linda said. “I don’t particularly care for this one, but it is handy.”
Sir Gene gave it a sullen look. “I suppose we have no choice.”
Voices down the hallway, shouting orders.
“No, we don’t,” Linda said. “Let’s go.”
The three of them ran through to another world.
Thirteen
Golfing Hell
Thaxton was still damp from his dunking as he putted on the ninth green. The monstrous bird had dropped him over the water hazard. The height would have been enough to kill him but the gravity on this world was somewhat less than normal. He had survived the plunge, only having the wind knocked out of him. Dalton had fished him out.
The course had turned even more bizarre. Now there were lava pits instead of sand traps, geysers on the fairway, and sinkholes on the approaches. Smoke rose and flames leaped. The lava pits bubbled noisily, spattering hot goo.
The sky had turned dark. It didn’t even look like a sky, but more like the vault of an expansive roof. The green was not grass but artificial turf of some kind.
Thaxton putted. The ball rolled straight until the last second, then veered off. It orbited the rim of the cup and spun away.
“Oh, blast.”
He had lost a stroke to one of the pits, and now he would have a short putt for a double bogey.
“Beastly luck I’ve been having.”
“That’s the truth,” Dalton said. “It’s not every golfer who gets carried off by a roc.”
“Is that what the thing was?”
“Well, it fit the description.”
“It could only happen to me.”
“You’ve done well. Twenty over par isn’t bad, considering.”
They finished putting and picked up their clubs. Smoke and steam rose around them as they left the green to walk a narrow path between two rocky escarpments. Coming out on the other side, they saw the clubhouse.
“There, you see?” Dalton said.
“You were right.”
The place looked a little odd. It was shaped haphazardly, consisting of half-spheroids and other bulges, and had oval windows. A lava pond fronted it, spritzing liquid rock like a fountain.
They entered what looked like the lobby of a hotel. An assortment of strange creatures — variously clawed and scaled, fanged and furred — were sitting around on stuffed chairs reading newspapers.
“Well, it’s not restricted,” Thaxton said.
“Where’s the bar?”
“I’m famished. Let’s drink at a table.”
“Fine. Let’s see, that looks like the eatery.”
A somewhat demonic-looking creature, presumably the maître d’hôtel, met them as they entered the dining room.
“Two for lunch?” it said in a cultured, deep-throated voice. Its barbed tail twitched back and forth.
“Yes, please,” Dalton said.
“This way, gentlemen.”
“By the window, if you can,” Dalton added.
“By all means, sir.”
Their table offered a prospect of a large crater filled with bubbling pitch. Fire danced in the distance.
“Charming,” Thaxton said, sitting down. There were no other patrons in the room.
“Would you like to see the wine list, gentlemen?”
“Hmm. I was going to have a martini, but wine might go better,” Dalton said.
“I’ll have a gin and bitters, easy on the bitters,” Thaxton said.
“Your waiter will be with you in a moment, sir.”
“This Château Avernus sounds good,” Dalton said. “Could you recommend a good year?”
“All vintages are good, sir. The climate where it’s produced doesn’t vary.”
“Sounds like a hell of a good vino to me. We’ll have a bottle.”
“I’ll tell the wine steward.”
“I could eat a horse,” Thaxton said.
“Or a roc, maybe?”
“God, no. Rather a tough old bird, wouldn’t you think?”
“Maybe so. Well, I sort of like this course. How about you?”
“Oh, so-so. I’ve seen better. It certainly is different.”
“Unique, I’d say.”
“Tell me. Have you given any thought as to how we’re going to get back?”
“Oh, we should be able to find the first tee again. That’s where we came in.”
“The first hole is miles back,” Thaxton said.
“The first hole is always somewhere near the clubhouse.”
“But the place wasn’t like this when we started. The first tee can’t be anywhere near. Besides, it might not have been the first hole. How can you be sure this course has the regulation number of holes?”
“Why wouldn’t it?”
Thaxton shrugged. “No good reason. Do you suppose the portal’s still there?”
“It’s occurred to me that it might have moved or disappeared.”
“Oh, that’s occurred to you? Perhaps we might give it some thought.”
“Relax,” Dalton said. “I’ve been walking in and out of portals for years now. Never been lost yet.”
“There’s always a first time, old boy.”
“Yes, I suppose there’s always a first time. Come to think of it, though, I wouldn’t mind being stuck on a golf course for the rest of my life.”
“God forfend.”
Another creature came up to the table. This one’s scales were shinier and its horns longer.
“Hi, I’m Gamalkon, and I’ll be your waiter today.” The creature handed out menus.
Thaxton ordered his drink. The waiter said, “I’ll be back to take your orders,” and left.
“Interesting bill of fare,” Dalton said.
Thaxton looked it over. “What the devil … ‘Filet of basilisk’?”
“Haven’t had basilisk in a long time. Hmmm. ‘Cockatrice au vin — breast of cockatrice sautéed with wild mushrooms and fresh tender roots in a light wine sauce.’ Sounds good.”