Hugi reached around and patted Alianora’s hand. “Och, dinna weep,” he sighed. “’Tis aboot fifty females o’ ma ain race wha’ ha’ cause to mourn. Yet ’twas ever ye who we loved best.” He snapped after air. “I’d gi’ ye guid counsel if I could. But the noise in ma head’s too great.”
Holger took off his helmet. “Ave Maria,” he began. There was nothing else he could do, and perhaps nothing better, here on this windy cold mountain. He asked that there be gentleness for the soul of Hugi. And when the dwarf was dead, Holger closed his eyes and signed him with the cross.
Rising, he left Alianora alone for the while that he and Carahue took to dig a shallow grave with their swords. Afterward they heaped rocks above, and stabbed Hugi’s dagger into the cairn with the hilt up. Wolves howled, miles away on the wold. Holger hoped they wouldn’t find the grave.
Finally the humans bound their own wounds as best they could. “We’ve had heavy losses,” said Carahue. His gaiety was flattened out by weariness. “Not alone our friend, but a horse and the pack mule with its gear. Our swords are no more than edgeless iron clubs, our mail nearly beaten to pieces. Nor can Alianora fly until her wing… her arm heals.”
Holger looked across the tumbled gray land. The wind struck him in the face. “This was my job,” he said. “I don’t feel right about anyone else getting hurt.”
The Saracen regarded him steadily. “Methinks ’tis the task of all honorable men,” he said.
“Look, Carahue, I may as well tell you we’re being opposed by Queen Morgan Le Fay herself. She’ll know we came this far. I think she’s already off to the Middle World to get those who can stop us.”
“They travel fast, the Middle Worlders,” said Carahue, “We’d best not stay to rest. But when we get to the church, what then?”
“Then my search is ended… perhaps… and maybe we’ll be safe. Or maybe not. I don’t know.”
It was on Holger’s tongue to tell Carahue the whole story, but the Saracen had already swung about and caught his horse. No time, no time.
Alianora sprang up behind Holger on Papillon. Her arms closed about his waist with a desperate tightness. Once only she turned, to wave at him who lay buried.
Even the stallion was worn out, and the mare shambled in her exhaustion. Hoofs rang on stone, grass parted with dry whisperings, the gorse rattled and the dead trees creaked. Low above the horizon, the crooked moon dazzled Holger’s eyes as if trying to blind him.
After a long while Alianora said, “Did the foe come on us by accident, below the pass?”
“No.” Holger threw a glance across the colorless, shadow-stippled earth. Carahue was a silhouette against stars and clouds-probably sleeping in the saddle, for he made no response as Holger went on, “Morgan came first. She sent the tribesmen after we’d spoken.”
“Wha’ did she say to ye, yon witch?”
“She… nothing. She just wanted me to surrender.”
“I think she hankered after more,” said the girl. “She was your leman once, no?”
“Yes,” said Holger dully.
“She could gi’ ye a proud life.”
“I told her I’d rather stay with you.”
“Oh, my darling!” she whispered. “I—I—”
He heard her trying not to weep. “What’s the matter?” he asked.
“Och, I dinna know. I shouldna be so happy now, should I, so soon? And, and, and yet I canna help it—” She wiped her eyes on the remnant of his cloak.
“But,” he stuttered. “But. I mean you and Carahue.”
“Him? A pleasant one, aye. Did ye really think, though, Holger, could ye really believe I wanted to do more than keep his mind off ye and your secret? And maybe make ye a wee bit jealous? How could-any lass want any man save ye?”
He gaped at the Pole Star.
She caught her breath and laid her hands on his shoulders. “Now we’ll gabble no more o’ that,” she said firmly. “But if ever I catch ye pawing at some wench again, Holger, ’twill go ill with ye.” She paused. “Some wench beside me, ’tis.”