Well, be that as it may, where was he? Or should he ask when was he? Another Earth? Maybe two objects could occupy the same space at the same time without interacting with each other. Which meant two entire starry universes could. Any number of universes. He had fallen into one such: one so parallel to his own—in spite of the differences—that there must be some link between them. How?
He sighed and gave up. First things first. Right now he had to keep alive in a land where a good many beings had it in for one who bore three hearts and three lions.
The castle grew slowly out of twilight. Its walls rose dizzily high, the roofs all peaks and angles, overtopped with soaring thin towers: a wild beauty, like ice on a winter forest. The white stone seemed lacy, so fragile that a breath would dissolve it, but as he approached Holger saw how massive the walls were. A moat surrounded the hill on which the castle stood, and though no river emptied therein, the water circled endlessly chiming.
Not far away stood another hill, covered with roses, half hidden by streamers of mist, but seeming to have the shape of a woman’s breast. Hugi pointed to it. “Yon’s Elf Hill,” he said, very low. “Inside there do the elves hold their unco revels, and come oot o’ ’t to dance o’ moonlicht nichts.” In the background, a forest so dark that Holger could scarcely see individual trees stretched north, south, and east. “There in Mirkwood do the Pharisee lairds hunt griffin and manticore,” whispered Hugi.
A trumpet sounded from the castle, far and cold, like rushing water. Now they’ve seen us, Holger thought. He dropped a hand to his sword. Alianora fluttered down to turn human beside him. Her expression was grave.
“You and Hugi—” He cleared his throat. “You’ve guided me here, and I thank you a thousand times. But now perhaps you’d best go.”
She looked up at him. “Nay,” she said after a moment, “I think we’ll stay a bit. Mayhap we can help ye.”
“I’m no one to you,” he faltered. “You don’t owe me a thing, while I owe you more than I can ever repay.”
The gray eyes remained serious. “Methinks ye’re summat more than no one, e’en if ye dinna ken it yoursel’,” she murmured. “I’ve a feeling about ye, Sir Holger. So I, at least, will stay.”
“Well,” puffed Hugi, though not so happily, “ye didna think I’d turn caitiff noo, did ye?”
Holger didn’t urge them. He’d done his duty, offering them an excuse to leave; and God, was he glad they hadn’t taken it!
The castle gates opened and the drawbridge came down, noiselessly. Trumpets blew again. A troop rode forth with banner and scutcheon, plume and lance, to meet him. He reined in and waited, his hand tight around his own spear. So these were the masters of Faerie.
They were clad in colors that seemed luminous against the twilight, crimson, gold, purple, green, but the hue of each garment shimmered and flickered and changed from moment to moment. Some wore chain mail or plate, argent metal elaborately shaped and chased; others had robes and coronets. They were a tall people, moving with a liquid grace no human could rival, nor even a cat. A cold haughtiness marked their features, which were of a strange cast, high tilted cheekbones, winged nostrils, narrow chin. Their skin was white, their long fine hair blue-silver, most of the men beardless. When they got close enough, Holger thought at first they were blind, for the oblique eyes held only an azure blankness. But he soon realized their vision was better than his.
The leader halted and bowed a little in his stirrups. “Welcome, Sir Knight,” he said. His voice was beautiful to hear, more like song than speech. “I hight Alfric, Duke of Alfarland in the Kingdom of Faerie. ’Tis not oft that mortal men come to guest us.”
“Thank you, my lord.” The polished phrases fell of themselves from Holger’s lips. “The witch Mother Gerd, who I believe is a humble servant of yours, commended me to your grace. She thought belike your wisdom could solve a grief of mine, so hither I came to beg the favor.”