“You are one irascible bloke.”
“I said I was sorry,” Thaxton said.
“I have to wheedle and cajole to get you to play golf and now you can’t wait.”
“You said you wanted to do nine holes before lunch, and I’m already hungry.”
“Why didn’t you fill up at breakfast?”
“Can’t eat a big breakfast usually. Stomach’s upset when I get up. Incipient ulcer. Been meaning to — hello, what’s this?”
Thaxton had stopped in front of the archway that led to the world of the golf course.
“Now, what the bloody hell is going on?”
Dalton rubbed his chin. “Looks different, doesn’t it?”
“Well, yes. There used to be trees, then the clubhouse on the left, then the first tee.”
What they saw was a tee and a long beautiful fairway that doglegged to the right. The surroundings were familiar enough — dense forest.
“They must have cleared some brush,” Thaxton said.
“Must have,” Dalton said.
“What hole is this?”
“Don’t know.” Dalton crossed the boundary and continued walking.
“Where are you going?”
“To play golf,” Dalton said over his shoulder. “Why, what’s wrong?”
“I don’t like the look of it.”
“It’s a course, isn’t it?”
“Now, wait just a … oh, bother.”
Thaxton picked up his bag and followed.
Dalton was already teeing up. He straightened, walked to the edge of the terrace, and surveyed the course. There was a steep drop off the tee but most of the fairway was level.
“Looks about a par five,” Dalton said. “They must have done some landscaping.”
“When? There hasn’t been time.”
“Magic, I guess.”
Thaxton looked back. The portal was a standing oblong of grayness set against the greenery. “Shouldn’t we check with the groundkeeper? I can’t see the clubhouse anywhere.”
Dalton addressed the ball. “Oh, it’s around somewhere.”
“I want a caddy.”
“The exercise won’t do you harm.”
“See here. Are you going to just go ahead and play?”
“Why not? It’s a lovely course. Looks like they’ve thinned the rough out a bit.”
Thaxton scowled. “I don’t know about this.”
Dalton swung. The ball arched on a perfect trajectory and landed about two hundred yards down the middle of the fairway.
“Topping drive,” Thaxton said.
“Not so great on distance. One of these days I’m going to get some power into my swing.” Dalton picked up the tee and pocketed it.
Thaxton teed up. “I really wanted a caddy. Or at least a cart.”
“Complaints, complaints. I wasn’t kidding about needing exercise. My cardiologist used to insist on it. Back when I needed a cardiologist.”
“I need a drink.”
“Before lunch?” Dalton said archly.
“Don’t get on your bloody high horse. I’ve seen you swill enough at odd times of the day.”
“True, true. But never directly after breakfast. It hampers the digestion.”
“You mean it hampers the alcohol from getting into your blood.”
“That, too. Shoot.”
Thaxton made his shot. It was a horrible slice and the ball landed perilously near the rough.
“Damn it to hell. Bad lie, it looks like.”
“You’re still on the fairway.”
“Rotten approach to the green.”
Dalton sized it up. “You could have picked a better angle.”
“Let’s be off.”
They walked out onto the fairway. The wet grass was clipped short. The sky was overcast and a cool wind was up.
“Not the best weather,” Thaxton said.
“Seems good enough.”
Thaxton squinted at the sky. “Looks like rain to me.”
“Won’t rain if it keeps up.”
“What? Oh, spare me.”
They separated about fifty yards out, Thaxton veering to the right. Dalton reached his ball and rooted for an iron.
Thaxton had lost sight of his ball and searched for it, mumbling. At length he chanced upon it and threw down his bag.
“I can’t even see the bloody green!” he called.
Dalton pointed ahead, then addressed his ball.
Thaxton’s attention was drawn in the other direction, toward the tee. A sound like a great rushing of wind came from the sky.
“What the bleeding blazes …?”
The source hove into view. It swooped down from the sky, pinions flapping, green and golden scales shimmering. It landed on the fairway. The wings folded elaborately, the long barbed tail snaking to and fro. Its tapered head was many-toothed and golden-eyed, and pale blue flame fluttered from its mouth. A picket fence of triangular fins ran down the length of its back and tail.
Thaxton watched it. The beast snuffled around in some bushes to the right of the tee until it found something suitable. The powerful jaws closed. It uprooted a plant and chewed contentedly.
Thaxton cupped a hand to the side of his mouth. “I say, Dalton, old boy?”
“Eh?”
“Tell me that’s a flying dinosaur.”
“What? Oh.”
They both watched the thing forage.
Dalton said, “I think that’s your garden-variety dragon.”
“What the devil’s it doing here?”
“Maybe it’s the groundkeeper?”
“Looks like we can’t go back that way,” Thaxton said.
“I’m playing through no matter what.”
Dalton determinedly took his stance. He swung. The ball described a lazy arc toward the green.
“Right,” Thaxton said. “Carry on.”
Four
Keep — Earth Aspect
Gene stood before the castle doorway that led to Earth and home.
“What the hell …?”
