"There's no time," I declared. "We've got to get going."
"Get going where?" she frowned.
"Back to Klah," Gus grumbled. "Skeeve here is in the middle of abandoning Aahz."
"He's what?" Tananda gasped.
"Gus ..." I warned.
"Save it, handsome. I'm not budging until someone tells me what's going on, so you might as well start now."
It took surprisingly little time to bring her up to date once I got started. I deliberately omitted as many details as possible to keep from getting Tananda riled. I had enough problems on my hands without fighting her, too! It seemed to work, as she listened patiently without comment or frown.
"... and so that's why we've got to get out of here before play resumes," I finished.
"Bull feathers," she said firmly.
"I'm glad you . .. how's that again?" I sputtered.
"I said ‘Bull feathers,' " she repeated. "You guys have been knocked around, trampled, and otherwise beaten on for my sake and now we're going to run? Not me! I say we stay right here and teach these bozos a lesson."
"But..."
"I don't know if your D-Hopper can move the whole team," she continued, "but I'll bet it can't do the job if we aren't cooperating."
"That's telling him," Gus chortled.
"... so retreat is out. Now, if you're afraid of getting hurt, just stay out of our way. We aren't leaving until we finish what you and Aahz started."
"Well said," Badaxe nodded.
"Count me in," the gargoyle supplied.
"You'll be the death of me yet, little sister," Chumly sighed.
I managed to get a grip on Gleep's nose before he could add his vote to the proceedings.
"Actually," I said slowly, "Aahz had always warned me about how dangerous it is to travel dimensions alone. And if I'm going to stay here, it occurs to me the safest place would be surrounded by my teammates."
"All right, Skeeve!" Gus grinned, clapping me on the back.
"Then it's decided," Tananda nodded. "Now, then, handsome, what's the plan?"
Somehow, I had known she was going to say that.
"Give me a minute," I pleaded. "A second ago the plan was to just split, remember? These plans don't just grow on trees, you know."
I plunged into thought, considering and discarding ideas as they came to me. That didn't take long. Not that many ideas were occurring to me.
I found myself staring at Chumly. He was craning his neck to look at the stands.
"What are you doing?" I asked, irritated by his apparent lack of concern with our situation.
"Hmmm? Oh. Sorry, old boy," the troll apologized. "I was just curious as to how many Deveels were in the crowd. There's a lot of them."
"There are?" I blinked, scanning the crowd. "I don't see any."
"Oh, they're disguised, of course," Chumly shrugged. "But you can see their auras if you check. With the odds that were being given on this bloody game, it was a sure thing they'd be here."
He was right. I'd been so preoccupied with the game I had never bothered to check the stands. Now that I looked, I could see the auras of other demons scattered throughout the crowd.
"It's too bad we can't cancel their disguises," I muttered to myself.
"Oh, we could do that easy enough," the troll answered.
"We could?"
"Certainly. Deveels always use the cheapest, easiest disguises available. I know a spell that would restore their normal appearance quick enough."
"You do?" I pressed. "Could it cover the whole stadium?"
"Well, not for a terribly long time," Chumly said, "but it would hold for a minute or two. Why do you ask?"
"I think I've got an idea," I explained. "Be back in a minute."
"Where are you going?" the troll called after me as I started for the sidelines.
"To talk to Griffin," I retorted, not caring that the explanation didn't really explain anything.
Chapter Twenty-Seven:
"Ask not for whom the bell tolls-"
-M. ALI
THE ball carrier was "somewhere under Gleep when the whistle blew. That wouldn't have been too bad, if it weren't for the fact that Chumly had already thrown the ball carrier to the ground and jumped on him prior to my pet joining in the fracas. As I said before, Gleep had really gotten into the spirit of things.
"I say," came an agonized call from the troll, "do you mind?"
"Sorry!" I apologized, backing the dragon onto more solid footing.
"Say, Skeeve," Gus murmured, sliding up beside me, "how much longer until we're set for the big play?"
"Should be any minute now," I confided. "Why do you ask?"
"He's afraid of additional casualties you and that dragon will inflict on the team while we're stalling for time," Badaxe chimed in sarcastically.
"Gleep," my pet commented, licking the general's face.
"You might as well forget the hard guy act, Hugh," the gargoyle observed. "The dragon's got you pegged as a softie."
"Is that so?" Badaxe argued, gasping a bit on Gleep's breath. "Well, allow me to point out that with the master plan about to go into effect, we don't have the ball!"
"Skeeve'll get it for us when we need it," Tananda protested, rising to my defense. "He always comes through when we need him. You've just never followed him into battle before."
"I believe I can testify," Chumly growled, limping back to join us, "that it's safer to be following him than in front of him."
"Sorry about that, Chumly," I winced. "It's just that Gleep..."
"I know, I know," the troll interrupted. " ‘Spooked under fire'... remember, I gave you that excuse originally. He seems to have recovered admirably."
"I hate to interrupt," Gus interrupted, "but isn't that our signal?"
I followed his gaze to the sidelines. Griffin was there waving his arms wildly. When he saw he had my attention, he crossed the fingers on both hands, then crossed his forearms over his head. That was the signal.
"All right," I announced. "Fun time is over. The messages have been delivered. Does everyone remember what they're supposed to do?"
As one, the team nodded, eager grins plastered on their faces. I don't know what they were so cheerful about. If any phase of this plan didn't work, some or all of us would be goners.
"Tanda and Chumly make one team. Badaxe, you stick with Gus. He's your ticket home," I repeated needlessly.
"We know what to do," the general nodded.
"Then let's do it!" I shouted, and wheeled Gleep into position.
This time, as the ball came into play, we did not swarm toward the ball carrier. Instead, our entire team back-pedaled to cluster in the mouth of our goal.
Our opponents hesitated, looking at each other. We had emptied over three quarters of their reserve teaching them to respect our strength, and now that lesson was bearing fruit. No one seemed to want to be the one to carry the ball into our formation. They weren't sure what we were up to but they didn't want any part of it.
Finally, the ball carrier, a Ta-hoe player, turned and threw the ball to his Rider, apparently figuring the bug had the best chance of breaking through to the goal. That's what I had been waiting for.
Reaching out with my mind, I brought the ball winging, not to me, but to Hugh Badaxe. In a smooth, fluid motion, the axe came off the general's belt and struck at the missile. I had never seen Hugh use his axe before, and I'll admit I was impressed. Weapon and ball met, and the weapon won. The ball fell to the ground in two halves as the axe returned to its resting place on the general's belt.