Still, given time she could certainly find someone. Or… more likely… she could summon Powers that would intercept Holger on his route. He’d been luckier so far than he deserved; he knew damn well he couldn’t fight his way through her ultimate allies. Only a saint could do that, and he was a long way from sainthood.
Q.E.D.: he had to make haste.
Carahue’s gaze rested gravely on him before the Moor said, “As you wish, my friend. Let us take the straightest path, then.”
Hugi shrugged and led on. The burrow twisted, rose, dipped, rose again, cornered, writhed, widened and narrowed. Their footfalls sounded like drumbeats. Here, here, here we are, troll. Here, here, here we are.
When the rock walls closed in so they almost brushed each shoulder Holger found himself behind Hugi, with Carahue at his back and Alianora guiding the horses in line to the Saracen’s rear. Before his eyes were only red-shot glooms as the torch sputtered. He heard Carahue murmur:
“The heaviest of my sins is that ever I let so sweet a maiden enter so foul a place. God will not forgive me this.”
“But I will,” she breathed.
He chuckled. “Heh! That suffices! And after all, my lady, who needs sun or moon or stars when you are present?”
“Nay, I beg ye, we must no talk.”
“So I shall think instead. Thoughts of beauty, grace, gentleness, and charm: in a word, thoughts of Alianora. “Och, Carahue—”
Holger bit his lip till the pain stabbed him.
“Quiet back there,” Hugi rapped. “We’ve come to his very nest.”
The tunnel ended. Torchlight would not reach far into the cavern beyond. Holger had confused glimpses of walls curving upward to lose themselves in a moving darkness. The floor was piled deep with branches, leaves, moldering straw, and bones: everywhere the gnawed bones. A stink of death overwhelmed him. He retched.
“Still, I say!” Hugi ordered. “Think ye I like this place? Noa, soft across yon space. There’ll be exits aplenty on t’ other side.”
The carpeting crackled underfoot, louder for each step. Holger swayed in its thick unevenness. He tripped over a log. A branch scratched his cheek, as if trying for his eyes. A human chine fell apart when he trod on it. He heard the horses sink under their weight, wallow about and whicker indignantly.
The torch brightened. At the same moment Holger felt a cold draft. “Ho, we’re na so far from the top!” Hugi exclaimed.
“Ho,” went the echo. “Ho-o-o.”
The troll crawled from beneath dead leaves.
Alianora screamed. Even then Holger thought he had never before heard real fear in her voice. “God have mercy,” Carahue choked. Hugi crouched and snarled. Holger dropped his sword, stooped to get it, dropped it again as sweat spurted out of him.
The troll shambled closer. He was perhaps eight feet tall, perhaps more. His forward stoop, with arms dangling past thick claw-footed legs to the ground, made it hard to tell. The hairless green skin moved upon his body. His head was a gash of a mouth, a yard-long nose, and two eyes which were black pools, without pupil or white, eyes which drank the feeble torchlight and never gave back a gleam.
“Ho-o-o,” he grinned, and reached out his hand.
Carahue shouted. The saber flared. It struck with a butcher sound. Smoke rose from the wound. The troll’s smirk did not change. He reached the other hand toward Carahue. Holger got his sword and attacked that arm.
The troll batted at him. Holger caught the blow on his shield. The wood cracked. He tumbled into the rotten heap on the floor. A moment he lay struggling for breath. Carahue’s mare shrieked in panic and plunged about. Alianora hung from the reins. That much Holger saw before he got back to his feet. Then his gaze focused on Carahue.
The Saracen danced over the nest. Incredibly, he kept his balance in that tangle. Each clumsy lunge he dodged, ducked, and never did his sword rest. It whistled and clamored, a blur, behind which he smiled. Each blow went far into green flesh. The troll only grunted. But Carahue continued to seek the right wrist, coldly and carefully.