Part 8 (1/2)
The dragon lifted a claw and pointed. ”You go south all the way.” It grinned and licked its lips. ”That is you go south if you answer my riddle correctly.” Smog scratched his ear with one great filthy claw, making an irritating rasping sound, then reared up to its full height and gazed down with fascination at its p.r.o.nounced belly-b.u.t.ton. ”Come to think of it, folks, you go south either way!”
c.l.i.toria and Ottar rattled their swords and snarled, but Rick silenced them with a gesture.
”We'll give you a few minutes of silence to concoct your riddle. Meantime, we will just step a short distance around yonder hill, where we may tinkle in the bushes. You don't want to gobble down travelers full of it, do you?”
Superb, thought Bill. What a great thinker Rick was! All they'd have to do when they got past that hill was to take off for the South. There was no way that those flimsy, tatty wings of Smog were going to keep him aloft to follow very long.
”No way, Sonny,” the dragon said, though. ”I've heard that old bowb before. Once around the hill and you are in the next county in seconds. Besides, I've got my riddle. Are you ready? I'm only going to give you to the count of ten to answer, folks, and then I'm going to gobble you up!” He winked at them. ”Oh, this is a really good one! Are you ready for it?!” The dragon snickered coyly. Which, when you think about it, is a pretty repelling sight.
”Riddle on, Smog!” said Rick, standing up to every inch of his heroic height.
”Very well, tender people. The riddle: ”What travels on four legs at dawn, two legs at midday, and three at dusk?”
The dragon leered at them, waggling his eyebrows knowingly. Rick slapped his forehead. ”Gosh. Arrrrr!
That's a hard one. You'll excuse us while my friends and I huddle together on the matter.”
”Of course,” said the dragon. ”But the count begins now,” it reminded them. ”One!” it rumbled.
The group convened, frowns of puzzlement all around. For Bill's part, he didn't have the faintest. It was the stupidest riddle he'd ever heard!
”I know!” ventured Hyperkinetic, tapping his long narrow nose. ”A Martian orgy! At least, that's the answer I thought I saw in GALACTIC PLAYBOY Party Jokes!”
Rick shook his head. ”We're not in the land of Feelthy Magazines yet! We're in the land of Absurd Fantasy. We need something appropriate.”
”Two!” growled Smog.
”Chingers?” ventured Bill hopelessly and they all looked at him with disgust.
”Three!” drooled Smog.
”Let us not be too stupid, Bill.” said Rick. ”I know a lot of morons that would have a hard job coming up with something that dumb.”
”Tempers, tempers, time's a-wasting. Four!” cozened Smog.
”I know what is!” said Ottar happily. ”Sammy Wallund, come home after all-night drink, stagger, fall on face...”
”Five!” roared Smog.
”No, no, no!” said Rick, beginning to tear at his hair. ”I know it! It's on the tip of my tongue, but I just can't spit it out!”
”Six!” sneered Smog.
”How about a Denubian Slime Dog?” ventured c.l.i.toria.
”What comes after six?” asked Smog, starting to count on his claws. ”Oh yes! Eight!” But the bewildered dragon was running out of said-bookisms, so he just declared this number in a simple monotone.
”Man,” said Bill. ”This is one tough riddle!”
”Seven!”
”That's it!” cried Rick. ”That's the answer!” He scampered over to the dragon, waving his arms wildly.
”Ed Rex told me this one in the Holy Bar and Grill!”
”Ten!” said Smog. ”You guys come up with the answer or what?”
”Yes, I think so,” said Rick. ”What walks on four legs in the morning, two in midday and three at dusk, Smog? Why, a man of course! Four legs when he crawls after he's born, two when he is a mature man - and then three, in the twilight of his years, 'cause he needs a cane! Where'd you get that one, fellow? Your sphinxy buddy, Winks?”
Smog's lips curled unhappily. ”Drat. I should have dug a little deeper in my riddle memory. Oh well.
That's the way the corpses crumple.”
”Then we get to leave now?” Bill cried happily. ”Can you also maybe let us know where the nearest bar is?”
”No to the first question - and I don't know to the second,” the dragon susurrated succinctly through a singularly wicked grin. ”I have no intention of letting such succulent suckers as yourselves go! Besides, I've rather a hankering for a good, long b.l.o.o.d.y fight!”
No sooner were the words spoken, than its great head speared forward, planting its considerable fangs around Hyperkinetic and his lute. The bard was quickly drawn up into the air, wriggling and screaming most unmusically, and then swallowed down with a gigantic gulp, following the priest to digestive destiny.
”Lying lout!” cried c.l.i.toria, raising her sword for battle.
”You lie to Ottar!” bellowed the Viking, sword whistling in fast circles. ”Ottar chop you into hundemad, dog food!”
”Well, at least no more bad ballads!” Bill philosophized, dragging out his sword. Since the Troopers used only guns and heavy weapons, he wasn't sure how well he could handle one of these. He could only hope that his instincts and great desire for survival might teach him quickly enough.
Rick's weapons were also drawn. ”Go get the foul fiend!” he cried. ”I'll guard the rear!”
The barbarians trundled forward, slas.h.i.+ng, feinting and stabbing at the green, snarling beast.
”That's a good idea,” Bill agreed as a roaring blast of flame wrapped him in soot. He saw the flas.h.i.+ng claws of the dragon rake out toward the barbarians. ”We never can be sure who's going to attack from our backs, can we?”
c.l.i.toria and Ottar were oblivious. They had turned into the fierce, fighting-machine berserkers that were their nature. Swinging their broadswords, they dived happily into battle.
Unfortunately, the battle was over much too swiftly for Bill's taste.
Ottar was swiftly gutted and then swallowed down in three or four chunks, whiskey bottles in his pockets and all.
c.l.i.toria was slightly more successful. She managed to scratch the dragon here and there, but as soon as Smog's gullet was free of Ottar, he s.n.a.t.c.hed the woman up and sent her right after him.
Using the sword as a toothpick, Smog turned and smiled down at the two remaining travelers, leering sanguinely through the blood smeared on his chops.
”Yum, yum! And now, for dessert. Who goes first? The clever one or the stupid one!”
”Him!” cried Rick, pointing at Bill.
”No, him!” cried Bill, pointing at Rick.