Doubtless more than two continua were involved. Perhaps all were. All the uncounted stellar universes might be separate facets of one transcendental existence. Holger didn’t pursue that idea. He had more immediate questions. What else could he identify in this world?
Well, Hugi had spoken of Morgan as King Arthur’s sister. The Arthur! Holger wished he had read the old tales more closely; he had only a dim childhood recollection of them.
As for the rest, let’s see, Carl’s paladins had included Roland and Oliver and Huon and—whoa. Where did he remember Huon from? The dark strange face rose in his mind, the sardonic humor which had so often irritated the others: Huon de Bordeaux, yes, he had finally gone off and become a king or duke or something in Faerie. But how do he know that?
Hugi’s grumble broke his train of thought. Half-grasped memories scurried back down into hiding. “’Twill na be a funnish trip, this, if each nicht we maun list to they long-legged beasties howl beyond the firelicht.”
“Nay, I think no they’ll keep that up,” answered Alianora. “’Tis o’ no use to them, sairly now when they must be busied gathering their hosts for war.” She frowned. “Yet belike they’ll try summat else. Alfric’s no one to surrender a prey.”
That idea was scarcely pleasant company.
They scrambled higher into the hills, bearing northwest at the girl’s direction. By noon they were far up. Here the land was cliffs and crags and boulders, wiry grass, an occasional tree twisted and stunted. They could see widely on each side, from the receding darkness of Faerie to the stark heights they must cross, and straight down into canyons which rang with the noise of glacial rivers. The sky was pale, ragged streamers of cloud hurrying across it, the light chill and brilliant.
They took shelter behind a bluff when they stopped for lunch. Holger, gnawing away at a slab of stone-hard bread and a hunk of rubbery cheese, could not resist griping. “Is Denmark the only land in creation where they know how to make a decent sandwich? Now if you gave me some thin-sliced pumpernickel, baby shrimp, eggs and—”
“Ye cook too?” Alianora looked at him with awe.
“Uh, not exactly, but—”
She snuggled close against him. He found that a bit disconcerting, having grown up with the idea… or illusion… that the man takes the initiative. “Come the chance,” she murmured, “I shall fetch what ye require, and we shall ha’ us a feast, the two o’ us alone.”
“Hm,” said Hugi. “Methinks I’ll go squint at the weather.”
“Hey, come back!” yelped Holger, but the dwarf had already gone around the bluff.
“He’s a good little man,” said Alianora. She laid her arms around Holger’s neck. “He kens when a lass needs comforting.”
“Now, wait a minute. Look here, I mean, you’re awfully nice and I like you a lot. But. I mean— Oh, hell. Never mind.” Holger gathered her in.
Hugi landed almost in their laps. “A dragon!” he screamed. “A dragon flying hither!”
“Huh?” Holger jumped up, spilling Alianora. “What? Where?”
“A firedrake, och, och, ’tis been sent by Alfric and noo we’re done!” Hugi clung to the man’s knees. “Save us, Sir Knicht! Is ’t no yer business to slay dragons?”
Papillon snorted and shivered. The unicorn was already off. Alianora ran after it, whistling. It stopped long enough for her to spring on its back, and then leaped from sight. Holger snatched Hugi, mounted, and galloped on her trail.
As he topped the bluff, he could see the monster. It came from the south, still half a mile away, but already the thunderclap wingbeats hit his ears. Fifty feet long, he thought in a vortex of panic. Fifty feet of scale-armored muscle, a snake head which could swallow him in two bites, bat wings and iron talons. He didn’t need to spur Papillon. The horse was crazed with fear, running almost as fast as the unicorn. Sparks flew from his shod hoofs. The noise of them on rock was lost in the nearing roar of dragon wings.
“Yi-yi-yi!” wailed Hugi. “’Tis roasted we’ll be!”
Downward the monster slanted, overhauling them with nightmare speed. Holger glanced back again and saw flame and smoke roll from the fanged mouth. For a lunatic moment he wondered about the metabolism; and what amendment to the square-cube law permitted that hulk to fly? A whiff of sulfur dioxide stabbed his nostrils.