THE SEA HAG(26)

Dennis' chest burned with the effort that would leave him ten yards short of the jungle when the beasts fell on him simultaneously like scissors with teeth. He'd have thrown the heavy sword away if he could have, but he didn't dare pause in order to draw the blade without cutting his leg off.

His panicked mind also considered fighting the beasts. The idea was so crazy that he would have laughed—if he'd had breath or laughter available. Each of the dragons weighed a half ton, and there were two of them...

"Not only a great lord may protect another!" Chester said.

"Help me, Chester!" Dennis cried.

Chester flung sausages high in the air to either side.

The dragons pivoted like dancers, the heads questing upward while their arms—clutched tight to that moment—snatched the linked sausages from the air with triple claws.

One of the beasts bugled in triumph. Its breath filled the air with the smell of fish and fish offal, the food the dragons got from their keeper to sustain them as they prowled their magical cage.

Dennis dived to safety. He lay in a thicket of flowers and brambles, sobbing with reaction and remembered fear.

Behind him, the dragons snarled at one another. They were too focused on the thrill of spiced meat to notice that their prey had escaped them.

"There is no more sausage, Dennis," said Chester. "There is bread only, now."

"That's all right," said Dennis, responding to the words as though they were a real apology rather than delicate way of getting him alert and mobile again. "I—thank you, friend."

"You are welcome, Dennis."

If Chester hadn't prodded him, he wouldn't have thought to ask for help; and without Chester distracting the guard beasts—

It was important to be able to do things himself. But it was real important to know when to ask for help.

The dragons were moving off in opposite directions, darting quick glances over their shoulders and growling at one another. Dennis started to get up. The thorns that gripped his clothes tore at the edge of his hand as he tried to push himself upright.

He couldn't see the vegetation that held him, though a large blossom brushed his cheek and breathed a rich purple scent into the air. He tried to pick away the vines clutching his right cuff. His left arm was entwined in a knot of brambles that anchored it as thoroughly as if he'd been tied.

"Chester—" Dennis began.

He tried to speak calmly. His mind churned with ghastly tales of trees that walked in the jungle, just out of sight of Emath, and of flowers that drank blood.

Something lanced through his cheek like hot iron.

Dennis screamed and jumped to his feet. The bramble jabs were nothing to the pain that spread from his cheek, encompassing him, devouring him—

The insect that had stung the youth buzzed away in the darkness, led by the perfume of another nightflower.

Dennis stumbled a few paces away from the bramble patch. The ground between two of the larger trees was reasonably clear. He had his left palm raised to his cheek. He wasn't quite touching the skin, but he could feel the heat from the injured part.

"Chester," he said, slurring the words because the side of his face was beginning to swell. "I'm all right, aren't I?"

"You are all right, Dennis," said the robot. "You will be better in a day.

"Perhaps," Chester added after a pause, "you should hold a wet compress to your cheek."

"I didn't bring any water," Dennis said in sudden concern. "You said there'd be water in the jungle, Chester."

"It is beginning to rain, Dennis."

As Dennis opened his mouth to argue, the first rush of big raindrops started to hammer down, making the leaves clatter.

Dennis looked up. A drop slapped the corner of his eye hard enough to hurt; but the rain was cooling things down, and that felt good after he'd sprinted away from the dragons in the humid atmosphere. Dust was pocking up from the trackway in miniature explosions. In a few minutes, the perimeter would a be a sea of mud—greasy and a deathtrap for anyone who tried to bolt across it.

Dennis shuddered. "Let's get out of here," he muttered, more to himself than to his companion.

Chester moved, a faint glimmer and a crackling of brush nearby. "There is a path here, Dennis," he said. "If you choose to follow it."

"Shouldn't I? Where does it go?"

"The path goes anywhere, Dennis," the robot said. "It goes away from Emath."

Dennis pursed his lips. The side of his face felt stiff already. "Sure," he said. "Let's go."

His cloak felt clammy as the rain plastered it to his shoulders. Maybe it'd be drier on the trail, protected by the canopy of leaves.

Dennis pushed through the undergrowth, guided by the glint of his companion's pointing limbs. He was a hero, after all, going off to seek adventure. That thought should keep him warm.