Colour of Magic, The Page #4

Year:
2008
327 Views


The Wyrmberg. It is dragon home.

They don't exist.

But I suppose you'll be wanting

to rescue your friend.

My point precisely.

He's not my friend.

But I suppose you'd better take me

to this Wyrmberg of yours.

There. Listen.

RINCEWIND:
I didn't... I didn't know

dragons were see-through!

- LIESSA:
Didn't you?

- No!

Then watch him

as we get closer to the Wyrmberg.

RINCEWIND:
Oh, no!

That, at least, is very marginally better.

LIESSA:
Jump now.

RINCEWIND:
What?

Surrender.

Never!

- Um...

Uh, never.

Of course not. He's a hero, isn't he?

I taught him myself.

And what is your name, hero...

- Um...

- ... so that we know who you were?

My name

is

Rincewind of Ankh.

And I am Liessa Dragonlady.

You are to challenge me in mortal combat.

Mmm?

No! No, I can't.

You are mistaken.

Liort, help our hero

into a pair of hog boots.

I'm sure he is anxious to get started.

No, really!

If you are looking after my...

LIESSA:
You will see

your friend soon enough.

If you are religious, I mean.

None who enter the Wyrmberg

ever leave again.

Except metaphorically speaking, of course.

Oh! Mr Trymon.

Good day, Arch Chancellor.

Ooh!

New new shoes and hat, huh?

Well, you came to see me.

Yes. I've taken the liberty

of doing a little research.

Ah, about the Octavo, perhaps?

Yes.

It appears that one

of the great spells is missing.

Ah!

And you were wondering,

purely for administrative purposes,

where it might have got to.

Well, yes.

Do you know, Arch Chancellor?

Well, if I did,

I think I've forgotten.

Ah! Oh.

Oh! Old Spold did.

Oh, no. No. Too late. He's already

popped his pointy shoes, hasn't he?

You know,

he always had difficulty breathing,

even before he managed to seal himself

in his own room

from the outside.

Yes. Great shame about Spold.

Just clouds.

Well, I expect this is all some sort

of a misunderstanding.

I expect they'll release me soon.

They seem rather civilised.

And when I get back,

I can tell people that I saw dragons.

Imagine that.

Dragons.

I obey, Lord.

Obey?

Of course, Lord.

Open it?

Huh!

Arch Chancellor?

Arch Chancellor?

Such a great shame.

Um... About?

Spold, you mean? Yes.

- Is that all, Trymon?

- Yes, Arch Chancellor.

Very good. Oh, Trymon,

as you leave, could you tidy

the sprung heavy-axe device

some prankster student

has rigged above my door?

Seems to have

malfunctioned.

I shall have it seen to, Arch Chancellor.

Oh, and I do hope Spold's shoes

are not too small for you.

We fight to the death.

Yours.

RINCEWIND:
Ah!

I suppose I ought to warn you

that I have a magic sword.

That's me!

- What a coincidence.

LIESSA'S SWORD:
Hello!

Hello!

Oh, no.

Prepare to be defeated.

LIESSA'S SWORD:
I don't think so.

I've seen sharper butter knives.

LIESSA'S SWORD:
Huh!

Going well, isn't it?

Call yourself

a magic sword? Pah!

LIESSA'S SWORD:
Yeah, I do, actually.

Hang on, Rincewind, hang on.

Let go, damn you, or we'll both die.

That's easy for you to say.

Ah!

Why don't you say me?

What have you got to lose?

Is that you?

Does that mean that I'm gonna die?

LIESSA:
Let go!

You're a fine-looking dragon,

by the way, even if you did just turn up.

You summoned me, Master.

You have the power.

You mean, I just thought of you

and there you were?

Yes.

But I've thought of dragons all my life.

The power only works near the Wyrmberg.

As the dragons fly further away,

we begin to dwindle and fade.

All Dragonlords have the power,

as, of course, does the Dragonlady Liessa,

who, incidentally,

is trying to hack your friend to pieces

as we speak.

What?

Shoot him!

- SPELL Ashoni.

- Ashoni!

- Ebriate.

- Ebriate!

Oh, no, not you!

Whoo! How was that?

You all right? What's the matter?

Aren't you scared of heights?

No, why should I be?

You're just as dead if you fall

from 40 feet as from 4,000 fathoms,

that's what I say.

It's not the actual falling,

it's more the hitting that worries me.

Do you think dragons

can fly all the way to the stars?

Because now that would be something.

I think you might be mad.

That's where we camped. Oh!

But, I didn't tell you

about the time...

Oh, the sword.

- You all right?

- Oh, yeah.

Come on, now!

Hello! Magic sword here!

If anyone can hear me out there,

what I could do with right now

is someone who doesn't realise

they're an orphan

born in mysterious circumstances.

Ow!

RINCEWIND:
Are you all right?

What's happening to the air?

The sky just flew by!

Dragons! Dragons. Think of dragons. Yes.

Think of dragons! Dragon!

Dragon! Dragon!

Dragon!

It won't work.

You don't really believe in them.

RINCEWIND:
Dragons!

Meanwhile,

at the very edge of the world,

the Krullians have not given up

on their quest

to determine the sex of the turtle.

Are the chelonauts ready,

launch controller?

Indeed, Arch Astronomer.

How long to the doorway?

The launch window,

Your Prominence.

Twelve hours, when Great A'Tuin's tail

will be in an unmatched position

to determine its sex.

Then all that remains is to find

an appropriate couple of sacrifices.

The ocean shall provide.

It always does.

Look at the horizon.

It's all right.

Admittedly, there seems

to be a lot less than there usually is.

RINCEWIND:
We're being carried

over the edge!

We're going to run out of world!

We are? I absolutely have to see that!

RINCEWIND:
Help!

Rincewind!

Don't mind me. I've got a book to read.

I don't want to leave this world!

A prospect

immensely troubling to the Octavo.

- Ah!

- Oh.

It's you.

I just came to see

Arch Chancellor Weatherwax.

Do you have an appointment?

I've never needed an appointment before.

Well, the Arch Chancellor's

never been organised before.

- It's just...

- Look,

the Arch Chancellor

is going to have been very ill, quite soon,

and mustn't be disturbed.

Can you smell burning?

Have I been smoking in my sleep?

Huh!

I could have sworn

I was wearing my shoes.

Why don't you come with me instead?

There's something I know

you really want to show me.

Trymon.

Oh, dear.

HEAD LIBRARIAN:
You'd better not

monkey around with it,

or who knows what'll happen?

The last person who went near it...

Yes?

Well, it was a long time ago.

All I'm saying is,

he never passed any exams after.

Ah!

As a matter of interest, after the last time,

what exactly did they do to Rincewind?

I never said anything about Rincewind.

Rincewind? Did I say Rincewind?

I meant whichever

perpetual student wizard it was

who monkeyed around with the Octavo.

Rincewind.

So,

when the spell left the Octavo,

where, exactly, did it go?

Get off, will you?

Are you saying you want me to stop?

- Yes! Stop, will you?

- Stop saving your life?

It's actually twice, now.

Oh, thank you.

Say again?

I said, thank you!

Ah!

Stop that! Will you stop that?

Look, a polite shake of the hand,

having first checked

for poison needles in the palm,

in that old, quaint,

Ankh-Morporkean tradition,

would be sufficient!

I'm on the edge of the world,

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Terry Pratchett

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Submitted on August 05, 2018

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