Wiz was in no mood to appreciate any of it. Before they had gone a mile he was huffing and blowing. In two miles his T-shirt was soaked and beads of sweat were running down his face, stinging his eyes and dripping from the tip of his nose. Still Moira hurried him along the twisting path, up wooded hills and down through leafy vales, ignoring his discomfort.
Finally Wiz threw himself down on a grassy spot in a clearing.
“No more,” he gasped. “I’ve got to rest.”
“Get out of the open, you crack-brained fool!” the red-haired witch snapped. Wiz crawled to his feet, staggered a few steps and collapsed against a tree trunk.
“Sorry,” he panted. “I’m just not up to this. Got to rest.”
“And what do you think the League is doing meantime?” Moira scolded. “Will they stop just because you’re too soft to go on?”
“League?” asked Wiz blankly.
“The ones who pursue us. Don’t you listen to anything?”
“I don’t hear anyone chasing us. Maybe we’ve lost them.”
“Lost them? Lost them! What do you think this is? A game of hide-and-seek? You idiot, by the time they get close enough for us to hear it will be too late. Do you want to end up like Patrius?”
Wiz looked slightly green. “Patrius? The old man back there?”
Moira cast her eyes skyward. “Yes, Patrius. Now come on!”
But Wiz made no move. “I’m sorry,” he gasped. “I can’t. Go on without me. I’ll be all right.”
Moira glared down at him, hands on hips. “You’ll be dead before nightfall.”
“I’ll be all right.” Wiz insisted. “Just go on.”
Moira softened slightly. He was a nuisance, but he was a human being and as near helpless as made no difference.
“Very well,” she said, sitting down. “We rest.”
Wiz leaned forward and sank his head between his knees. Moira ignored him and stared back the way they had come.
“That old man,” Wiz said at last. “What killed him?”
“Magic,” Moira said over her shoulder.
“No really, what killed him?”
“I told you, a spell.”
Wiz eyed her. “You really believe that, don’t you? I mean it’s not just a phrase. You mean real magic.”
Moira twisted to face Wiz. “Of course I mean magic. What did you think? A bolt of lightning just happened to strike him while he was Summoning you?”
“You’re telling me there really is magic?”
Moira looked annoyed. “How do you think you got here?”
“Oh,” said Wiz. “Yeah. Well look, this magic. Can it get me home?”
“Patrius might have been able to do that, but I cannot,” she said angrily. She got to her feet. “Now come along. If you have breath enough to talk you have breath enough to walk.”
By paths and game trails they pushed on through the forest. Twice more they stopped to rest when Wiz would no further. Both times Moira fidgeted so impatiently that Wiz cut the stop short, barely getting his breath back. There were a thousand questions he wanted to ask, but Moira sternly forbade him to talk while they walked.
Once she stopped so suddenly that Wiz nearly trod on her skirt. She stared intently at a patch of woods before them. Besides a ring of bright orange mushrooms beside the trail, Wiz saw nothing unusual.
“This way,” she whispered, grasping his arm and tugging him off the path. Carefully and on tiptoe, she led him well around that bit of forest, striking the trail again on the other side.
“What was the detour about?” Wiz asked at their next rest stop when he had breath enough to talk.
“The little folk danced there on last night to honor the Mid-Summer’s Day. It is unchancy to go near such a place in the best of times and it would be very foolish to do so today.”
“Oh come on! You mean you believe in fairies too?”
“I believe in what I see, Sparrow. I have seen those of Faerie.”
“But dammit . . .” Moira cut him off with an imperious gesture.
“Do NOT curse, Sparrow. We do not need what that might attract.”
That made sense, Wiz admitted. If magic really worked and there was the burned husk of a man lying under the sod back behind them to suggest that it did then curses might work too. Come to that, if magic worked there was nothing so odd about fairies dancing in the moonlight. He shook his head.