Chlorine was in contact with Nimby, so knew what he wanted her to know. "Clear the branch; we'll distract the storm!"
"But we must stay with you!" Kim called back.
"We'll return soon." And they were off, riding back along the road.
Nimby lifted one hand, reaching behind his shoulder. Chlorine realized he wanted to talk more specifically. She touched his hand with hers.
His thought came, but she couldn't believe if at first. "You want me to drive this thing? But I don't know how."
His further thought came, instructing her in the rudiments. He was serious. He needed time to think, to spread his Awareness, to find something he needed. But he couldn't pause, because the moment he did, the storm would catch him with a bolt of lightning. It wouldn't kill him, but could kill her, and knock out his body, costing them valuable time if his body was unconscious, away from the Companions, it might be days before they got together again, and Dearth would win.
The notion appalled her, but she would have to try to do it. To give Nimby the time he needed to be Aware. It was almost the only magic he retained, and he had to have the chance to use it.
But to control the motorcycle, she would have to get in front. How could they change places, without stopping?
She drew her feet up, setting them on the saddle beside Nimby. Then she clung to his shoulders and lifted her bottom, standing behind him, bent over his head, hanging on as the wet wind tore at her body. Then she hauled one foot up and over his shoulder, and the other. Now she was standing in front of him, reaching under herself to clutch at his shoulders, her panties in his face. If he had been a normal man, in Xanth. he would have freaked out and they would have sailed into a tree. She slid down his front to land in his lap. Then he slid back, and she took over the handlebars and pedals. He put his hands on her hips, and did not move again. He was tuning out.
She was controlling the machine! All she had to do was keep it going without spinning out of control and crashing, until Nimby was through sensing. She didn't have to race, but in the driving rain the handling was treacherous. She tried to keep going straight, but veered to the left. She leaned and steered right, and veered too sharply right. The wheels went into the puddle that lined the side, sending up a spray and dragging; she felt the machine slow. But she managed to get it back into the center and straightened out.
Then something in the road loomed. Maybe a piece of branch, or an animal. She swerved around it, and veered too far left, into the puddle there. Again the water went up in a sheet, and the cycle slowed. She had to watch her reactions. But she was getting better control. Her confidence was increasing. This wasn't so bad.
Lightning struck right ahead. The flash blinded her. and the crack of it deafened her. She could neither see nor hear—but they were still hurtling forward.
She didn't have time to panic. She knew where the load was, and if she kept their balance, it would be all right until she recovered her senses. If she could just go straight. Was she going straight?
She felt the motorcycle slowing. That meant she had drifted to the side. But which side? She had to turn back into the road, but if she turned the wrong way, they would go off the road and crash She didn't dare go wrong—but which was right?
She used her ears which were starting to recover The splashing seemed worse on the left, and the motorcycle seemed to be trying to drag that way. So she fought it. going straight, because she wasn't quite sure. Better to forge on through water than to turn the wrong way.
Her vision was returning around the glare blindness. She saw the road on the right, and moved that way, recovering speed. She had been correct! She was back in control. Then she wondered: had that lightning bolt been intended to strike them, and missed because she had gone too slowly? Or had it been meant to blind her, so that she would have to stop or crash? Would there be another?
Chlorine nerved herself and accelerated. She steered to one side, and then the other. She wanted to become a more elusive target, just in case. She also squinted, hoping to avoid any further blindness. However, Dearth did not seem to be trying very hard to stop them, maybe because they were going away from home. When they eventually turned back south, it was bound to get worse.
Nimby squeezed her hips. He was tuning back in. "You want to take over?" she asked over her shoulder, and put one hand back.
He touched her hand: yes.
She was concerned how to change places again, as reversing her moves would be tricky. But he simply moved up. and she lifted to sit in his lap. his arms going around her to take over the handlebars. He had control now, and knew where he was going.
He swerved, splashing through the puddle and onto a dirt trail that was now mud. The wheels slued and skidded, but the machine remained upright. The trail was sloppy, but navigable. Chlorine couldn't have done it, but Nimby seemed unconcerned.
Soon they went cross-country, zooming across a soggy field and up a wet slope. They intersected another road and followed it to a farmstead.
Nimby slowed the machine, and held his hand toward her. Chlorine touched it. and received a mindful of information. As she assimilated this, Nimby guided the Lemon to the farmhouse and stopped.
Chlorine got off. Then Nimby rode on, so as not to make a stationary target for lightning. Chlorine knew what she had to do.
She marched up to the farmhouse door and knocked. It opened after a moment, revealing a mature woman. "Girl, you're soaking!" the woman exclaimed. "Come in and get dry."
"Thank you, but I must go out again in a moment. I must talk to your husband."
The woman led her to a warm stove. The radiating heat was wonderful. A mature man approached. "I'm Farmer Jones. What's a slip of a girl like you doing out alone in weather like this?"
"I am Pia," Chlorine said "My party is stalled on the road because of fallen wood. We need a pulley to haul it off. I would like to trade for yours."
"I've got a spare block and tackle, but it's too heavy for you to handle."
"My—my husband Edsel is on the motorcycle. He can handle it. Our friends in the car are blocked; that's why we need it.”
"My college son John can load it for you." The farmer nodded at a younger man behind him.
"Thank you. That will really help." She smiled at John, putting as much reward in it as she could muster in her bedraggled state.
"What do you have in mind to trade?"
"A—a dragon. I mean a giant reptile. Bones. Very old. On your land. We will show you where."
"What do I want with snake bones?" the farmer demanded.
"Dad, she's describing a fossil," John said. "Maybe a dinosaur."
"Is that good? Why should I trade a good block and tackle for news about something I've already got on my land?"
"Might be worth it. Dad. Dino fossils are valuable, and hard to find. The bones could get washed away in the storm before we ever saw them."
The farmer pondered briefly. "Okay, you go look at them, and tell me if it's worth it."
"Nimby—I mean, my husband will show you where," Chlorine said. "But you'll have to ride with him on his motorcycle."
"This grows interesting," John said, pulling on a raincoat. "I'll do it."
"You can wait here, and have some hot soup," the farmer's wife said.
"Wonderful," Chlorine said blissfully.
John went to the door. There was the sound of the motorcycle arming, by no coincidence; Nimby's Awareness made such timing feasible.
"Oh." Chlorine said "Edsel doesn't talk. But he understands. He'll show you."
John nodded and stepped out into the weather. Chlorine settled down to a bowl of steamy soup. It was sheer rapture.
The farmer's wife tried to offer Chlorine dry clothing, but she demurred; she would soon have to go out in the rain again. But she thanked them sincerely for the temporary warmth of the stove and the soup.
Soon there was the sound of the returning motorcycle, and John entered. "It's true. Dad. It's a dinosaur for sure, and we'd have m
issed it. We'll need to shore it up, to keep it from washing into the river. Thing could be worth thousands. We'll find out when this freak storm ends and I can call my paleontology prof at college. But it sure as hell is something. Also, that's a Lemon he's riding; only good folk have those. Give them the tackle."
And so Chlorine found herself back on the Lemon, trying to keep the bulky block, tackle, and rope in place. They headed south.
The storm abruptly intensified. Dearth obviously was tracking them, and had been biding his time until they tried to head south again.
Nimby seemed unconcerned. He gunned the motor, following the road at high speed. Chlorine hardly dared look, for fear she would see disaster looming. She reminded herself that Nimby was not the mute dragon or man-form he seemed, but the Demon X(A/N)th, one of the overwhelmingly powerful figures of the cosmos. The fact that he lacked most of his power here did not mean that his intellect was diminished; he knew what he was doing, and where things were. He had surveyed the whole area, during his time of introspection, and now had a virtual map of it in his mind. Now that he lacked most of his magic, she was able to see the power of his other qualities, such as his Awareness and his learning ability. If she hadn't loved him already, she would have been falling in love with him now. She was nothing, owing everything to him, but he was such a superior creature.
He turned his head to glance briefly back at her, and winked. Oh— she had forgotten that he could read her thoughts! That was part of his Awareness, especially when he was so close to her.
But that reminded her that here in Mundania she was neither her natural homely, dull, unhappy self, nor her enhanced lovely, smart, nice persona. She was an ordinary person in the body of a Mundane woman. But she at least had the wit to know her limits, and to follow without question the guidance of the one whose limits were immeasurably beyond hers. She trusted Nimby, and wanted to share his fate, whatever it might be. He did not have to read her thoughts to know that he made her seem like a princess in Xanth, while he made himself seem like nothing much, but the reality was vice versa. She never forgot. If her fate was to die in Mundania, she wanted to do it in Nimby's company.
Lighting cracked ahead, and a small tree fired out sparks and toppled onto the road. Nimby hardly paused; he simply guided the cycle overland around the base of the tree and back onto the road. He had barely been slowed.
Dearth must have been infuriated, because the storm intensified. Thunder became continuous, and the darkness of the massive cloud formation was countered by the brightness of repeated lightning flashes. Chlorine thought of Fracto throwing a fit. Nimby was getting to Dearth, and that was good.
More trees came down, crisscrossing the road so thickly that it was pointless to try to use it Nimby didn't, he rode through the forest, winding between the standing trees and brush, sluing around puddles and rocks. In places the foliage was so thick that it seemed impossible to penetrate, but somehow Nimby guided the Lemon through it without even scraping. That map in his head made his course clear, however opaque it might seem to her.
The tackle tried to dislodge; she felt it shift as they whipped around a turn. She reached back with one hand to take hold of it. Nimby was getting them where they needed to go; she had to see that they got there with their payload.
Something odd happened. There was a funny quality to the air around them. Her long brown hair lifted of its own accord, spreading out around her head like a dark halo.
The cycle suddenly braked, skidding across the forest floor. It spun around. Chlorine screamed. But they did not fall over. Instead they paused, then took off back the way they had come.
Lightning cracked behind them. The burst of heat shoved them faster forward. Dearth had struck directly at them, but Nimby had anticipated it and maneuvered out of the way just in time. It seemed he could tell when and where lightning was about to strike.
That halo of hair—that must have been a signal. In Mundania things didn't just happen magically; they had to be prepared for. Those few seconds were enough to allow Nimby to get clear.
The Demon Earth was doing his worst, and they were escaping it. They did have a chance. She realized that she had been somewhat fatalistic about that: now her hope was growing.
They slid through ridges and channels, across fields and through more forest, and then arrived back where Dug and Kim were waiting with the car. They had used a tow rope to haul the branch clear with the car, so were ready to move. The block and tackle weren't necessary after all.
Chlorine realized that though Nimby could sense what was around him, he could not see into the future. The tackle would have done the job, if the car hadn't been able to.
Nothing had happened to Dug and Kim in the interim; even the rain had abated. It was Nimby Dearth was after, no one else, and Chlorine realized that Dearth might not even be aware of others. So Nimby had enabled them to clear the way, just by being absent.
They loaded the tackle into the car, and resumed their journey south. This time the motorcycle led the way. The rain increased, and the wind, but no trees came down. Dearth evidently realized that they now had the means to haul trees out of the way, for the tackle could multiply their pulling power several fold. So the tackle finessed the trees; the mere threat of it stopped that ploy.
But now it was afternoon, and they would not get home today unless they drove in the night. The storm was extremely dark ahead; Dearth was saving his worst for last.
Nimby lifted one hand, signaling the carc then rode into a motel lot. He stopped, and the car pulled up beside it. Nimby touched Chlorine's hand, imparting information.
"You stay here for the night," Chlorine said, getting off the cycle and stretching her legs.
"But we can drive a couple more hours before night." Dug protested. "And into the night, to get home. We don't have to stop."
"Nimby knows," Chlorine said. "Stop here, eat, sleep early. We'll need to resume in the wee hours."
"Okay," he said dubiously
Chlorine turned back to the cycle—and it was starting to move. "Wait for me!" she cried. But Nimby just waved and drove away.
"I guess he means for you to stay with us," Kim said sympathetically
"I suppose so." Chlorine agreed, concealing her hurt. She knew Nimby was protecting her, by giving her a chance to eat and sleep in peace while he distracted Dearth, but she hated being apart from him.
They took a motel room and turned on the TV while taking turns showering and cleaning up and changing to dry clothing. Chlorine saw the ongoing news and was appalled. It showed scenes of devastation. A freak storm had laid waste the region, and the Chat-A-Hoot-Cheese River and its tributaries were flooding. One of the Hooded rivers crossed their route south. The bridges were closed.
"We're not going to get across that in the next two days," Dug said grimly,. "Not with a car."
"Nimby knew," Chlorine said, beginning to appreciate why he had halted their drive south.
Kim emerged from the shower, wrapped in a towel. She was a lanky girl, but self assured. "Look at that!" she exclaimed as the TV picture showed a bridge getting washed away. "Where is this disaster?"
"On our route south." Dug said, heading for the shower. "Freak storm, they say."
"Freak storm, my eye," Kim said. "That's Dearth going after Nimby."
"Yes." Chlorine agreed. "That tree across the road was just to delay us while the storm flooded the area between us and home. Nimby stopped it with the tackle, but too much time was lost. But Nimby has something in mind."
"It's like a chess game," Kim said. "Ploy and counter-ploy. We're just pawns, not seeing the larger strategy until it's too late."
"Nimby will find a way," Chlorine said bravely.
Kim patted her hand. "I'm sure he will." But Chlorine knew fake optimism when she heard it.
The rain was only moderate in this region. They went out to eat, and got gasoline for the car, and turned in at eight at night. Chlorine had a bed to herself. She missed Nimby, but knew that if h
e returned here to be with her, the storm would intensify and the motel might well be struck by lightning and burned down. So Nimby was protecting them all.
"It's an irony," Dug remarked from the other bed. "We Companions are supposed to keep Nimby out of mischief in this unfamiliar land. Instead he's keeping us out of mischief."
"Nimby is very smart," Chlorine said "And he's been studying conscience. Demons don't come with consciences; they're like machines or golems in that respect. But Nimby’s trying to learn how to love, to dream, to have conscience—all the things the souled creatures do. So this is practice for him."
"I'd say he's getting there," Kim said. "Okay, we've got the alarm set for two AM. Let's sleep."
"Shux," Dug said. "I thought we were in for six hours of hot love."
"Six minutes, swiftie." Kim retorted "Then you're done, ready or not."
"You are a hard taskmistress."
"No, a soft one. For five and a half minutes. After that I turn into a brassie lassie."
Now Chlorine really missed Nimby. The brassies were Xanth folk made of brass. Their women could be surprisingly soft when they wanted to be, but were otherwise metal hard. Kim was obliging Dug's interest, but had set a time limit well within a normal man's capability She was a nice person. Chlorine knew that if she set Nimby such a limit, he would manage to signal five storks in five minutes. That was an advantage of not being human.
She closed her eyes, imagining Nimby's performance. And thought she felt his answering nudge. Probably imagination, because of his lack of magic here. But maybe he was tuning in on her, and shared her vision and feeling. She wished they could signal the stork and have it deliver, but of course that would never happen unless Nimby wanted it. He had given her so much, she was ashamed even to think of wanting more. Of being a normal family, with all the joys and travails of raising children.
The alarm went off, startling her awake. They scrambled out of their beds and lined up at the bathroom, getting ready. Twenty minutes later they were outside, two in the car and one waiting for the motorcycle.