Papillon neighed. Turning, Holger saw a long form of spotted yellow glide toward the lake. A leopard! His sword was out and aloft before he knew it.
“Nay, nay, hold.” Hugi tried to grab his arm, couldn’t reach far enough, and settled for his legs. “He comes in peace. He’ll no set on ye unless ye offer ill to the swan-may.”
The leopard flowed to a halt, sat down, and watched them with cool amber eyes. Holger sheathed his blade again. Sweat prickled him. Just when these wilds were becoming familiar, something like this had to happen.
Wings beat overhead. “’Tis she!” cried Hugi. He jumped about, waving his arms. “Hallo, there, hallo, come on doon!”
The swan fluttered to earth a yard away. It was the biggest one Holger had ever seen. The evening light burned gold on its plumage. He took an awkward step forward, wondering how you introduced yourself to a swan. The bird flapped its wings and backed away.
“Nay, nay, be naught afeared, Alianora.” Hugi darted between. “He’s a bra sire who’d but ha’ speech wi’ ye.”
The swan stopped, poised, spread its wings wide and stood on tiptoe. Its body lengthened, the neck shrank, the wings narrowed—“Jesu Kriste!” yelled Holger and crossed himself. A woman stood there.
No, a girl. She couldn’t be over eighteen: a tall slender young shape, lithe and sun-browned, with bronze-colored hair loose over her shoulders, huge gray eyes, a few freckles across a pert snub nose, a mouth wide and gentle—why, she was beautiful! Almost without thought, Holger slipped his chinstrap free, doffed helmet and cap, and bowed to her.
She approached shyly, fluttering long sooty lashes. Her only garment was a brief tunic, sleeveless and form-fitting, that seemed to be woven of white feathers; her bare feet were soundless in the grass. “So ’tis ye, Hugi,” she said, with more than a hint of the dwarf’s burr in her soft contralto. “Welcome. Also ye, Sir Knight, sith ye be a friend to my friend.”
The leopard crouched, switched its tail and gave Holger a suspicious look. Alianora smiled and went over to chuck it under the chin. It rubbed against her legs, purring like a Diesel engine.
“This long lad hight Sir Holger,” said Hugi importantly. “And as ye see, my fere, yon be the swan-may hersel’. Shall we sup?”
“Why—” Holger sought for words. “It’s a pleasure to meet you, my lady.” He was careful to use the formal pronoun; she was timid of him, and the leopard was still present. “I hope we haven’t disturbed you.”
“Och, nay.” She smiled and relaxed. “The pleasure be mine. I see so few folk, sairly gallant knichts.” Her tone had no particular coquetry, she was only trying to match his courtliness.
“Ah, let’s eat,” growled Hugi. “Ma belly’s a-scraping o’ ma backbane.”
They sat down on the turf. Alianora’s teeth ripped the tough dark bread Holger offered as easily as the dwarf’s. No one spoke until they had finished, when the sun was on the horizon and shadows had grown as long as the world. Then Alianora looked directly at Holger and said: “There be a man seeking of ye, Sir Knicht. A Saracen. Is he friend o’ yours?”
“Ah, a, a Saracen?” Holger pulled his jaw back up with a click. “No. I’m a, a stranger. I don’t know any such person. You must be mistaken.”
“Mayhap,” said Alianora cautiously. “What brocht ye here unto me, though?”
Holger explained his difficulty, whether or not to trust the witch. The girl frowned, a tiny crease between level dark brows. “Now that, I fear, I canna tell,” she murmured. “But ye move in darksome company, Sir Knicht. Mother Gerd is no a good soul, and all know how tricksy Duke Alfric be.”
“So you think I’d best not go to him?”
“I canna say.” She looked distressed. “I know naught o’ the high ones in Faerie. I only ken a few o’ the lesser folk in the Middle World, some kobolds and nisser, a toadstool fay or two, and the like.”
Holger blinked. There they went again. No sooner had he begun to imagine he was sane, in a sane if improbable situation, than off they were, speaking of the supernatural as if it were part of everyday.
Well... maybe it was, here. Damnation, he’d just seen a swan turn into a human. Illusion or not, he didn’t think he could ever have seen that in his own world.
The initial shock and the inward numbness it brought were wearing off. He had begun to realize, with his whole being, how far he was from home, and how alone. He clenched his fists, trying not to curse or cry.
To keep his mind engaged, he asked, “What did you mean about a Saracen?”
“Oh, him.” The girl looked out across the twilit glimmer of the lake. Swallows darted and swooped out there, amid an enormous quietness. “I’ve no seen him mysel’, but the woods be full o’ the tale, moles mumble it in their burrows and the badgers talk o’ it to the otters, then kingfisher and crow get the word and cry it to all. So I hear that for many weeks now, a lone warrior, who must by his face and garb be a Saracen, has ridden about these parts inquiring after a Christian knicht he believes to be nigh. He’s no said why he wanted the man, but the aspect o’ him, as the Saracen relates, is yours: a blond giant on a black horse, bearing arms o’—” She glanced toward Papillon. “Nay, your shield is covered. The device he speaks of be three hearts and three lions.”
Holger stiffened. “I don’t know any Saracens,” he said. “I don’t know anyone here. I come from farther away than you understand.”
“May this be an enemy o’ yers, seeking ye oot to slay?” asked Hugi, interested. “Or a friend, e’en?”
“I tell you, I don’t know him!” Holger realized he had shouted. “Pardon me. I feel all at sea.”
Alianora widened her eyes. “All at sea? Oh, aye.” Her chuckle was a sweet sound. “A pretty phrase.”
Somewhere in the back of his mind, Holger recorded the fact for future use that the clichés of his world seemed to pass for new-coined wit here. But mostly he was busy thinking about the Saracen. Who the devil? The only Moslem he’d ever known had been that timid, bespectacled little Syrian at college. Under no circumstances would he have gone around in one of these lobster get-ups!
He, Holger, must have made off with the horse and equipment of a man who, coincidentally, resembled him. That could mean real trouble. No point in seeking out the Saracen warrior. Most certainly not.
A nihilistic mood of despair washed over him. “I’ll go to Faerie,” he said. “I don’t seem to have any other chance.”
“And a chancy place ’tis for mortals,” said Alianora gravely. She leaned forward. “Which side be ye on? Law or Chaos?”
Holger hesitated. “Ha’ no fear,” she urged. “I stand at peace wi’ most beings.”
“Law, I suppose,” he said slowly, “though I don’t know a thing of this wor—this land.”
“I thocht so,” said Alianora. “Well, I’m human too, and even if the minions o’ Law be often guzzling brutes, I think still I like their cause better than Chaos. So I’ll gang along wi’ ye. It may be I can give ye some help in the Middle World.”
Holger started to protest, but she raised a slender hand. “Nay, nay, speak no o’ it. ’Tis scant risk for me who can fly. And—” She laughed. “And it could be a richt merry adventure, methinks!”
Night was coming, with stars and dew. Holger spread his saddle blanket to sleep in, while Alianora went off saying she’d rather house in a tree. The man lay awake for a long time to watch the constellations. They were familiar, the late summer sky of northern Europe up there. But how far away was home? Or had distance any meaning?
He recalled that when Alianora changed into the human form, he had unthinkingly crossed himself. He’d never done so before in his life. Was it just the effect of this medieval environment, or part of the unconscious skills, language and riding and Lord knew what else, he had somehow gained? It was lonely, not even knowing yourself.
There were no mosquitoes here. For small blessings give praises. But he might have welcomed one, as a reminder of home.
Finally he slept.
5
THEY SET OUT in the morning, Holger and Hugi on Papillon. Alianora flew overhead as a swan, curving and soaring and vanishing behind the trees to reappear in an upward swoop. The man’s spirits rose with the sun. If nothing else, he was bound somewhere, and seemed to be in good company. By noon their eastward course brought them high in the hills, a rough windy land of scarred boulders, waterfalls and ravines, long harsh grass and gnarled copses. To Holger’s eye the horizon ahead looked darker than it should.
Hugi broke into hoarse bawdy song. To match him, Holger rendered such ballads as “The Highland Tinker” and “The Bastard King of England,” translating with an ease that surprised himself. The dwarf guffawed. Holger had begun “Les Trois Orfevres” when a shadow fell on him and he looked up to see the swan circling above, listening with interest. He choked.
“Eigh, do go on,” urged Hugi. “’Tis a rare bouncy song.”
“I’ve forgotten the rest,” said Holger weakly.
He dreaded facing Alianora when they stopped for lunch. That was by a thicket which shielded a cave mouth. The girl came lightly toward him in human form. “Ye’ve a tuneful way wi’ ye, Sir Holger,” she smiled.
“Ummmm... thank you,” he mumbled.
“I would ye could recollect wha’ happened to the three goldsmiths,“ she said. “’ Twas rude o’ ye to leave them there on the rooftop.”
He stole a look at her. The gray eyes were wholly candid. Well, if she’d spent her life among the earthy little people— He didn’t have the nerve, though. “I’ll try to remember,” he said falsely.
The brush rustled behind them and they saw a creature emerge from the cave. At first Holger thought it was deformed, then he decided it must be a normal member of a nonhuman race. The body was somewhat taller than Hugi and much broader, with muscular arms hanging to the bent knees; the head was big and round, flat-nosed, with pointed ears and a gash of a mouth; the skin was hairless and gray. “Why, ’tis Unrich,” cried Alianora. “I thocht no ye denned this far upland.”
“Oh, Ay git aroon, Ay do.” The being hunkered down and regarded Holger with circular eyes. He wore only a leather apron, and carried a hammer. “We-un bin a-drayvin’ a new shaft thisaboots.” He waved at the surrounding territory. “Thar’s gold in them thar hills.”
“Unrich belongs wi’ the nickels,” explained Alianora. Holger concluded that must be a tribe of mountain dwarfs rather than a class of coins or a series of alloys. “I got to ken him through the badger families.”
The newcomer was as avid for gossip as everyone here seemed to be. Holger’s tale must be recounted from the beginning. At the end the nickel shook his head and spat. “’Tis naw so canny a steadin’ ye’re boon fawr,” he said. “An’ roight noo, too, when the Middle World is marshalin’ all uns hosts.”
“Aye,” said Hugi, “’tis a cold welcome we micht get at Alfric’s.”
“They do say elves an’ trolls ha’ made allayance,” said Unrich. “An’ when them thar clans get together, ’tis suthin’ big afoot.’
Alianora frowned. “I mislike this,” she said to Holger. “Sorceries go ever more boldly abroad, even into the heart o’ the Empire, I hear. ’Tis as if a bulwark o’ Law has been taken away, so that Chaos can freely flow out over the world.”
“That wuz a holy spell put on Cortana, but noo ’tis berried away fro’ soight o’ man, an’ none able to wield it were it dug up,” said Unrich with a certain pessimistic relish.
Cortana, thought Holger. Where had he heard that name before?
Unrich reached in a pocket of his apron and, to Holger’s surprise, drew out a stubby clay pipe and a sack of something that looked like tobacco. Striking fire with flint and steel, he inhaled deep. Holger watched wistfully.
“That’s a dragonish trick, yon fire-breathing,” said Hugi.
“Ay loike un,” said Unrich.
“And quite rightly, too,” said Holger. “‘—a woman is only a woman, but a good Cigar is a Smoke.’”
They stared at him. “I ne’er heard o’ mankind playing demon thus,” said Alianora.
“Lend me a pipe,” said Holger; “and see!”
“This is too guid to miss.” Unrich ducked back in his cave and returned presently with a large briar. Holger tamped, got a light, and blew happy clouds. He didn’t think he was smoking tobacco, it was strong as the very devil, but no worse than stuff he’d had in France before the war or Denmark during. Hugi and Unrich goggled at him. Alianora went into peals of laughter.
“How much do you want for this?” asked Holger. “I’ll swap you a spare cloak for the pipe, with flint and steel and a pouch of tobac—of smoking-leaf.”
“Done!” said Unrich at once. Holger realized he could have made a better bargain. Oh, well.
“Ye micht have the decency to throw in some food for us,” said Alianora.
“Wull, sith ’tis yew what ask.” Unrich disappeared again. Alianora looked commiseratingly at Holger. “Ye men are scarce a practick breed,” she sighed.
With a load of bread, cheese, and smoked meat they set off again. Though the country grew yet steeper and wilder, Papillon seemed tireless. The gloom in the east rose before them as they proceeded, like a vague wall. Near evening, they halted at what must be the crest of the range; below, the thinly begrown hills swooped down toward pine woods. Alianora set deftly to work building a shelter of plaited withes, while Hugi prepared supper and Holger felt useless. But he enjoyed watching the girl move about.
“Tomorrow,” she said, as they sat around the fire after nightfall, “we’ll enter Faerie. After that, ’tis in the hands o’ fate.”
“What makes it so dark in that direction?” asked Holger.
Alianora stared at him. “Truly ye’re from afar off, or else a spell is on ye,” she said. “All folk know the Pharisees canna endure broad daylight, so ’tis forever twilit in their realm.” She winced. The firelight etched her young face redly against wind-whining blackness. “If Chaos wins, mayhap yon dusk will be laid on the whole world, and no more o’ bricht sunshine and green leaves and blossoms. Aye, I suppose indeed I am with Law.” She paused. “And yet does Faerie have an eldritch beauty. Ye’ll see for yourself.’”
Holger looked across the blaze at her. The light shone in her eyes, stroked her hair and the gentle curves of her body, then wove her a mantle of shadow. “If I am not being rude,” he ventured. “I can’t understand why a pretty girl like you should live in the wilds among... among others than your own kind.”
“Oh, ’tis no hard riddle.” She gazed into the coals. He could barely hear her voice above the night wind. “The dwarfs found me as a babe lying in the forest. Belike I was some crofter’s child, stolen in the harrying which ever goes through these marches. The robbers thought to raise me for a slave, then wearied o’ the idea and left me. So the little folk, and the animals their oath-brethren, raised me up. They were good and kind, and they taught me a mickle. In the end they gave me this swan dress, which they say once belonged to the Valkyries. By its power, I, though not shapestrong born but o’ common human sort, may change as ye’ve seen; and thus I may dwell safe. Now go whither ye will, said the dwarfs. But I couldna care much for the smoky halls o’ men. My friends were here, and the space and sky I maun have to be glad. That is the whole o’ ’t.”
Holger nodded, slowly.
She glanced back at him. “But ye’ve told us only a whit about yoursel’,” she said with an unsteady smile. “Where be your home, and how came ye hither without traversing lands o’ men or Middle World and learning wha’ they were?”
“I wish I knew,” said Holger.
He wanted to tell her the whole story, but thrust the impulse back. She probably couldn’t understand any part of it. Besides, he might be wise to have some secrets in reserve. “I think a spell was laid on me,” he said. “I lived so far off that we’d never heard of any of these places. All at once, here I was.”
“What micht your realm be called?” she insisted.
>
“Denmark.” He swore at himself when she exclaimed:
“But I’ve heard o’ yon kingdom! Though far from here, it has a wide fame. A Christian country, north o’ the Empire, is ’t no?”
“Ummm... well... that can’t be the same Denmark.” Hardly! “Mine lies in—ah—” He hated to tell her an outright falsehood. Wait a minute; his old junkets around the United States. “I am thinking of a place in South Carolina.”
She cocked her head at him. “Methinks ye’re hiding summat. Well, as ye wish. We border folk learn not to be overcurious.” She yawned. “Shall we to bed?”
They huddled together in the shelter, seeking warmth as the night grew more cold. Several times Holger wakened with a shiver and sensed Alianora breathing by his side. She was a sweet kid. If he never found his way back—
6
THEIR DESCENT next morning was rapid, if precarious. Often Hugi yelped as Papillon’s hoofs slipped on the talus and they teetered over a blowing edge of infinity. Alianora stayed far overhead. She had a hair-raising sport of turning human in midair and going back to swan shape just in time to break her fall. After watching this Holger needed a steadying smoke quite badly. He couldn’t light the pipe until Hugi showed him how to use the flint and steel he now carried in the pouch at his belt. Damnation, why couldn’t they have matches in this world?
As they went through the pine wood, the twilight closed in like stormclouds. It deepened with every muffled step. Holger wondered whether they would be able to see at the end of the trip. His scalp prickled at the thought of groping blind through a country of trolls and werewolves and God knew what else.
The air grew warmer as they descended. When at length they emerged from the forest, the atmosphere was balmy, laden with incense-like odors of blossoms unknown to Holger. They entered an open, rolling valley, and Hugi gulped. “Noo we be within Faerie,” he muttered. “Hoo we gang oot again be another tale.”
Three Hearts and Three Lions Page 4