The leader was big and gaunt, his yellow hair and beard in twin braids, his face painted in red and blue stripes. A headdress of plumes and ox horns rose over him. His shoulders were covered by a mantle of badger skins, his midriff by a shaggy kilt. But he had a steel battle ax in his hand.
The others were similar. Axes, swords, spears gleamed among them. One wore the rusty tilting helmet of some murdered knight, a horrible faceless thing to see upon his naked body. Another blew a wooden whistle as he ran; the notes trilled between wolfish voices.
“Back!” exclaimed Carahue. “We’ll have to flee!”
“We can’t escape them,” groaned Holger. “Men can run down horses. And we’ve got to reach St. Grimmin’s soon.”
A javelin clattered yards before him, “Get aloft Alianora!” he shouted.
“Nay,” she said. One hand clutched blindly for his.
“You can fight better thus,” said Carahue. Holger wished his own wits operated that quickly. The girl nodded, kicked loose from her stirrups, and transformed. The swan rose in a thunder of wings.
The war band stopped. A yell went up. Several covered their eyes. “Allah akbar!” exploded Carahue. “They’re terrified of magic. Merciful saints, I meant to say.”
The swan dove toward the savages. The leader shook his ax at her, snatched a bow from one of the men and nocked an arrow. The swan veered just in time. The leader shouted at his men, uncouth noises borne faintly down the wind to his quarry. He kicked those who had fallen prostrate until they climbed to their feet.
“Aye.” Hugi’s mouth tightened in the white beard. “That un be in the coven. He’s seen worse witchcraft nor this. He’s heartening the others to rush on against us.”
“Their nerve is none too steady, though,” said Carahue, lightly as if he sat at a banquet. He strung his own short double-curbed bow. “Could we pull another trick or two—” He cocked an eye at Holger.
The Dane thought wildly of parlor tricks, of urging the cannibal chief to take a card, any card… Wait! “Hugi,” he gasped, “Strike me a light—”
“What is’t ye do?”
“Light! Damn your questions! Fast!”
The dwarf got flint and steel from his belt pouch while Holger stuffed his pipe. His fingers shook. By the time he had it lit, the hillmen were horribly close. He could see the scar on one cheek, the bone in another nose; he heard their bare feet slap the ground, almost he heard their breath. He inhaled, raggedly, to fill his mouth with smoke.
He exhaled.
The savages skidded to a halt. Holger fumed till his eyes smarted and his nose ran. God be praised, there was no wind just now. He guided Papillon with his knees, raising his cloak behind his head with both hands, to provide a dark backdrop for the smoke. Slowly, he rode toward the warriors. They had stopped dead. He saw them waver. Their jaws were slack and their eyes a-bug.
Holger flapped his arms. “Boo!” he shouted.
One minute afterward, the heathen were out of sight. The slope was littered with weapons they had dropped. Their screams drifted from the ravine into which they had bolted. The leader held his place alone. Holger drew sword. The leader snarled and ran too. Carahue shot an arrow after him, but missed.
Alianora landed, became a girl, threw herself against the Dane and hugged his leg. “Oh, Holger, Holger,” she choked. Carahue dropped his bow to clutch his sides, for the echoes had begun to ring with his laughter.
“Genius!” he whopped. “Sheer genius! Rupert, I love you for this!”
Holger smiled shakily. He’d simply taken another crib from literature—the Connecticut Yankee—but there was no reason to discuss that point. Enough that it had worked.
“Let’s get going,” he said. “Their boss may yet whip some courage back into them.”
Alianora sprang to the saddle. Her cheeks were flushed, and she looked happier than she had for some time. Hugi observed grumpily, “Aye, their guts oozed oot fast enough. Yet ’twas ne’er said yon breed are aught but bonny fighters. Why should they shy from a seeming touch o’ wizardry? Because o’ late they’ve seen so much o’ ’t, and so nasty, that their nerves are close to breaking. That’s all. We’ve no seen the last o’ them.”