"I'm allergic to oaths just now," Matt answered. "Also, I've seen too many people break their most solemn vows—especially the ones they make at the altar. If you won't keep a promise, you won't keep a vow."
"Funny place you come from," the monster growled. "How can a guy break an oath? You do whatever it wants you to."
Matt just stared at him for a moment. Then he said, "Interesting point."
He turned back to the superheavy rock. "I don't suppose there's any way to get you to cooperate, then, is there?"
"Help you get me? No way, bucko!"
"That's what I was afraid of." Matt sighed. "Okay, I guess we have to go on faith." He didn't say in what.
The dracogriff tracked him with its gaze. "Whaddaya think you're doing?"
"Just having a look." Matt began pacing around the dracogriff's pinioned wing, just out of biting range. Satisfied, he nodded, stepped back, raised his hands, and chanted,
And it did—but very slowly. At first, the rock barely quivered. Matt frowned and recited the verse again, more slowly, concentrating so fiercely on the boulder that everything else seemed to grow dim. He felt the gathering of forces that always accompanied a spell—but they seemed lesser now, weaker, compared to the huge inertia that he felt all about him. He focused his mind on moving that rock, reciting the verse even more slowly—and the boulder tipped, ever so slightly, to the left, then rocked back down a little faster, then up to the right, then back down. Back and forth it rocked, harder and harder, until finally, as Matt intoned "roll" again, it poised, was still for a moment, then tipped on over and rolled, slowly at first, but gathering speed, right off the dracogriff's wing.
"At last!" the monster cried, its wing slamming up with a whoosh. "It's free—just from chanting a verse! Awright, I'll admit it—you really are a wizard!"
Matt relaxed, perspiring. "Nice to hear. For a minute, I had my doubts."
The dracogriff stared. "You didn't know you were a wizard?"
"No, I knew that, all right. It was just much harder to make that spell work than it should have been." And even harder than it had been two days ago at the village. Matt wondered about that.
The dracogriff shrugged. "Maybe it's just because...What's the matter?"
Matt was staring after the rock, appalled. "The rock! It's still rolling!"
"So what? It'll stop."
"No it won't—'cause I didn't tell it to."
"So let it roll." The dracogriff gazed up proudly at its wing. "I don't think anything's broken."
"No, but it will be! That runaway rolling boulder could hurt somebody!"
"Oh, don't be such a gloomy Gus," the dracogriff huffed. "Who could it hurt?"
"Anybody it runs into—it's building up a lot of momentum! And we're in the mountains—it could start an avalanche!"
The boulder rolled over the lip of the pass and out of sight.
"Well, stop it. You're a wizard."
"I took too long thinking up the spell! I could stop it now, but it's out of sight." Matt took off running, tripped on a cobble, and fell flat on his face.
"Hey, there! Easy, easy, little guy!" the dracogriff called. "You can't go running around on a rocky road!"
"But I've got to catch up!" Matt scrambled to his feet and winced at a bruise in his thigh. "If it starts an avalanche, it could wipe out a whole village!" And he limped away.
"Awright, awright!" the dracogriff exploded. "Enough is enough!" He caught up to Matt in two leaps and swerved to cut him off. "Here—left foot on my knee, right foot up and over."
Matt skidded to a halt. "What're you talking about?"
"A ride of course! Boy, for a wizard, you really are slow. Up on my back! You'll never catch that boulder on foot!"
"It's not your problem..."
"It was my wing it was on, it was me you made the spell for! Up on the back, bucko! You don't think I'm going to settle for owing you, do you?"
"You don't owe me anything," Matt snapped.
"No, just my freedom and my life! Don't you tell me that's "nothing'! Now climb aboard!"
Matt eyed the lion back warily, thinking that what had happened to she who rode the tiger might also very well happen to he who was lionized—but there wasn't really much choice. "All right, and thanks." He stepped up on the dracogriff's knee and swung his bruised leg over its back with a wince. "But this settles our account."
"The hell it does," the dracogriff snorted. "Hold tight, bucko."
"Like a leech," Matt promised.
"I hate flying," the dracogriff grumbled, but its huge wings beat once, twice, and they were airborne.
"I know what you mean." Matt's stomach was trying to stay behind on the ground. "I'd rather take the train, myself."
"Don't think for a second that you're gonna train me!"
"Wouldn't think of it." Matt looked down and swallowed heavily against a rising stomach. "Uh—long way, isn't it?"
"Only to the bottom of the mountain—and the lump you want is just a hundred feet under us."
"Just" a hundred feet still looked like an awfully long way to Matt. He tried to remember that he had ridden dragon-back before, but it wasn't much reassurance. "Circle lower, will you? I need to stay near it."
"Awright, but don't blame me if I run into a downdraft." The dracogriff spiraled down.
Matt saw the rock bouncing and skipping from ledge to ledge. A huge boulder stood smack in its path, and Matt could have sworn his rock would smash itself to flinders on its big cousin—but it bounced off with scarcely a chip and went rolling merrily on its way. "Can't anything stop it?"
"Course not," the dracogriff huffed. "It's enchanted."
He was right, of course. Matt's spell had told it to roll, but hadn't said anything about stopping..
And it was heading right toward a huge slab, a virtual menhir, that was leaning at an angle so steep it couldn't possibly hold itself up! "Go around!" Matt shouted.
He said it carefully, and with great concentration. But the focusing of his attention seemed to come a little more easily this time—and, slowly but obediently, the rock swerved in a half circle, around the menhir, over the edge of the shelf it perched on, and plunged on down the slope.
"You can make it mind!" the dracogriff cried in amazement.
"Yeah," Matt muttered, "as long as I say the verse in time."
"Just tell it to stop, why don'cha?"
"Good idea." And Matt intoned,
The concentration was almost automatic—but Matt could feel himself weakening. Why was magic requiring so much more effort, all of a sudden?
The boulder jerked to a stop so suddenly that it had Matt wondering about inertia.
"I can't believe it!" The dracogriff dipped low, circling just over the stone—and sheered off with a yelp of surprise. "Hey! It's hot!"
"Of course!" Matt cried. "That's what happened to all that kinetic energy! It converted to heat!"