Castle War

Both players drove deep and true.

The fairway smelled of fresh-mown grass; ducks, simple unmythological ducks, paddled and dipped in the lake, and birds — robins, sparrows, and blue jays — twitted in the bordering woods. The sun shone down. Apple trees were heavy with late-summer fruit, and bees buzzed among the clover in the rough. They were through the fairway and onto the green in three.

The green was quiet save for the plock of balls dropping into the cup. Both men putted for par.

Thaxton replaced the pin and smiled. “Well, that’s that.”

Dalton sighed. “Yes. Best game I ever played. I’ll always remember it.” He slid the putter into the bag.

“Who could forget it?” Thaxton shouldered his bag. “And now we pay the piper.”

“Yes.” Dalton solemnly nodded. “Yes, we do.”

They walked through trees, following a path that bore gently uphill.

“I’d like to think I lived my life as well as I played that game,” Dalton said.

“Did you?”

“No, not as well. Sometimes I gave up, withdrew, didn’t care.”

“We all do that,” Thaxton said.

“But you get older, and you learn. There’s always time for redemption, for changing, for doing better. It’s never too late.”

“Well, I learned a few things, I must say,” Thaxton said. “Never say die, keep your pecker up, and all that.”

“Good outlook.”

When they came out of the woods the Devil was waiting for them.

He was sitting on a bench by the first tee reading a newspaper and smoking a thick green cigar. His scaly legs were crossed, the talons on his feet long and sharp. When the men approached, he lowered the newspaper, and a fangy smile spread across his gargoyle face. He took the cigar from his mouth.

“Enjoy your game, gentlemen?”

“Very much,” Dalton said. “I don’t think we ever want to do it again, but it was an experience.”

“Oh, but you must do it again. In fact, that’s the whole point of this place.”

“Uh, what’s the point?”

“Wait a minute. You’re lost souls, aren’t you?”

“No.”

The gargoyle frowned. “You’re not?”

“Not quite,” Thaxton said. “I’m afraid we blundered into your domain quite by accident.”

The gargoyle took a puff. “Well, I don’t see as how that makes a difference. You’re here, and you have to play.”

“Why?” Dalton asked.

The gargoyle snorted derisively. “Why.Now, see, that’s the kind of question that really bugs me. This is my universe, I run it, I set the rules. It’s my show. When you run the show, certain rights and immunities accrue to you, one of which is not to be constantly annoyed by piteous wails about how absurd it all is, about how senseless and futile it seems, and so on. Screw that noise! It’s the only game in town, so play already. Quit bellyaching.”

“I think we’ve learned that,” Dalton said. “But you only have to go around once. Once is enough.”

“Not if I say it isn’t,” the gargoyle said. “There’s the first hole. Go tee up.”

“There comes a time,” Dalton said, “when you have to stand up to the big guy and say, hey, that’s enough.”

Frantically Thaxton shook Dalton’s shoulder and pointed. “There it is!”

The portal, or what could have been it, was flitting about in the meadow behind the gargoyle. The phenomenon was a region of vagueness that now and then took the shape of a doorway. It floated, dipped, scudded, then rose into the air and settled once again.

“Run for it!” Dalton shouted, dropping his bag.

“Wait just a damned minute,” the gargoyle said, throwing down the cigar and rising.

Cerberus leaped on the monster and knocked him back against the bench. The bench flipped and dog and gargoyle went rolling in the grass. The two duffers took off across the meadow.

The gargoyle got up and retrieved his cigar. Puffing thoughtfully, he watched them chase down the strange doorway and disappear into it. Then the phenomenon vanished, leaving the meadow to its bees and flowers and other peaceful inhabitants.

The gargoyle turned to Cerberus, who had also watched.

“Hell, I was going to take them to dinner.”

Thirty-three Laboratory

Osmirik was sitting at the workstation reading when something hit with a crash. He fell off his chair, then lurched to his feet. Frightened out of his wits, he looked toward the rear of the lab.

The Voyager was back. It had materialized at a good clip and smashed through some old lab equipment, finally hitting the far stone wall. The hull was intact, though the front end was crinkled a bit.

By the time Osmirik reached it the hatch had opened and a strange towheaded man in a battered baseball cap had his head poked out. He was grinning.

“Is this here another planet?” he asked.

“You are in Castle Perilous,” a surprised Osmirik responded.

The man looked around. “Shore is somethin’.” He climbed out, and was followed by an even stranger man.

“This here’s Dolbert, and ah’m Luster.”

“Osmirik,” the librarian said, bowing.

“We got it, Ozzie!” Jeremy poked his head out. “We got the data!”

“I am pleased,” Osmirik said.

Jeremy waved a mini-disk. “It’s all here.”

“Are you harmed?”

“Oh, we got shaken up a bit, but we all had seat belts on.”

Jeremy got out, followed by Isis, who threw her arms around him. They embraced.

“No time now,” Jeremy said, breaking away. “Got to get this into the program!” He started running across the floor.

“Jeremy, look out!”

Something huge and green flashed by Jeremy, barely missing him. There was a roar and a tremendous crash.

Everybody looked toward the adjacent wall. Out of nowhere had come this huge gaudy automobile. Now it was crumpled against the wall with its hood sprung and most of its windows shattered. Fenders fell away and white smoke issued from the engine.

They all rushed to it.

“Lord Incarnadine!” Jeremy tried to open the deformed door; it wouldn’t budge.

“I’m okay,” Incarnadine said, crawling through the window. Luster and Jeremy helped. “Get the old man out. Careful, he may be injured.”

“Injured, schminjured,” Mordecai said, his head popping above the roof. “You hit the button in time, we’re okay. Okay?”

Isis and Dolbert helped Mordecai out of the wreck, then were surprised to discover Jonath. Jonath wasn’t surprised in the least. More gods. Fine.