Her Majesty's Wizard #1 (28 page)

   "Oh ... I most certainly wish to be your friend." Her clasp was firm, her hand dry and smooth, like polished wood. Her fingertips wriggled with a subtle pressure that sent heat coursing up his arm to his glands. "Do come again," she breathed.

   Then she spun away toward the forest, leaving a laugh that merged with the whispering of the morning breeze in the leaves, as the shadows claimed her, and she was gone.

   Matt took a deep breath, sitting upright on Stegoman, shaking his head to clear it. "Well! A most ... interesting encounter."

   "It was indeed," Alisande said, with an implied promise of incipient mayhem, "and I trust one was enough. Reflect on what was said, Wizard, on the crossing that's against all nature."

   Matt gave her a reproachful look. "You still don't trust me. Should I be complimented?"

   Alisande swung her horse about, face burning, and rode out into the meadow.

   Sir Guy laughed softly behind him. "Come, Lord Wizard. Let us ride."

   They cantered ahead. The mist turned deeper gold, thinning, showing them a swath of meadow. Matt saw a sheet of sunlight, laid out upon the waving grass, its near edge cut as sharply as a knife-edge by the shadow. He drew in suddenly, ten feet short of the shadow line.

   "What troubles you?" Sir Guy frowned.

   "I just remembered what this whole shenanigan was about." Matt swung down off the dragon. "You two ride ahead slowly with the ladies. And try to keep your neck hooked up, Stegoman, so no one can see I'm not with you."

   "What hast thou in mind?" Stegoman blinked painfully against the sunlight.

   "About what you'd expect. Try to make sure you keep in sight of the forest, and be ready to come a-runnin' if you hear a ruckus."

   Stegoman turned his head slowly, doubtfully; but Sir Guy only asked, "What of yourself?"

   "I'll stay here."

   "A moment.'' The dragon blinked at him, frowning. "If the wolf should hap upon thee..."

   Matt held up the silver dagger. "I'm ready-though I hope I won't have to use it."

   Sir Guy frowned down at him a moment longer, then shrugged and turned away. "Come, Free Dragon! This is his fight, when all is done."

   Stegoman went along, though he didn't look happy about it.

   Matt stepped a few feet to the side and lay down in the long grass. The stems hid him from his companions, but also from the forest behind. He waited.

   He didn't wait long.

   A howl ripped from the verge of the forest.

   Matt snapped his head up, looking backward, waiting.

   A heavy, black form shot through the grass to his left, not five feet away. Matt leaped to his feet, just in time to see the great, gaunt wolf charge out of the shadow into sunlight.

   It felt the warmth and howled, slamming on the brakes, leaning backward, clawing at the turf. It flailed about, wailing.

   Hooves thudded as Sir Guy and the ladies came charging back toward it.

   Then it rose up from the grass, already a grotesque and formless thing with half a face and half a muzzle, no longer a beast, not yet a man, struggling back toward the shadow line.

   Matt ran forward, the silver knife out. The amorphous thing saw him coming and lunged forward desperately. But Matt leaped and landed on the terminator a half second before it.

   It wailed miserably and rolled to the side, sheering off from the silver blade. It fell lengthwise, twitching, its whole form blurring, stretching out, elongating, paling-and Father Brunel scrabbled naked in the grass.

   He rolled over onto his belly, face buried in his hands, sobbing in full despair.

   Matt knelt, clapping his shoulder. "Calm down, Father. You're human again."

   "Slay me!" The priest grabbed the front of Matt's tunic and yanked his head down. "I begged you before; I adjure you now! Slay me! End my shame!"

   "No." Matt felt his face turn to flint again.

   "Heed me!" The priest shook Matt like a rat, his face contorting with fury. "You would not heed me in the depth of night; look what has happed therefore! Take the silver blade and kill me!"

   "Again I tell you, no!" Matt looked directly into the priest's eyes with a cold, hard stare. "I-will-not-send-your-soul-to-Hell."

   He chopped down with his forearm against Father Brunel's elbow, knocking the priest's hands aside, and stood, glaring up at Alisande, daring her to disagree. But the princess only nodded judiciously.

   Surprised but relieved, Matt turned back to the priest again. "Your cure is penance, Father, not death."

   The priest glowered up at him; then anger faded, and he squeezed his eyes shut, bowing his head.

   "Come, sir!" Sir Guy said sternly. "Hope's not fully fled! Come, on your feet, and be a man again!"

   "There's no help for it, Father," Matt said, more gently. "We're not going to let you out of it. Take up the burden of humanity once again."

   The priest lay still a moment longer. Then he groaned and shoved himself to his feet again-or started to. He made it to his knees, then suddenly remembered his condition and sank back, shooting an appalled, appealing glance at Matt.

   "Oh, good Heaven!" Sayeesa ripped a strip of cloth from her robe in disgust and tossed it to the priest. "Gird your loins, and have no fear-the princess and I shall turn our heads."

   She turned her horse, and so did Alisande; but Father Brunel only knelt, staring down at the wide grey strip in his hands, and muttered, deep in his throat, "I should not touch your garment."

   "'Tis not my garment more!" Sayeesa cried, exasperated. "'Tis separate from me now, as you shall ever be! Now gird yourself!"

   Alisande stared at her in surprise, then turned away, brow furrowed in thought.

   Matt looked up too, amazed. Then he sighed and turned back to Brunel.

   The priest was on his feet, finishing tying the loincloth into place with a twist of skeined grasses. He looked up at Matt, face grave. "'Tis better thus. I am not fit to wear a cassock."

   "Will you quit wallowing in self-pity!" Matt snapped. "Haul yourself out to the arid land of manhood! Or do you think a cassock would make you neuter?"

   The priest glowered down at the ground. "I could wish that it did."

   "Yeah, yeah! We could be such damn fine men, if we just didn't have to cope with women! They wouldn't even distract us, if we just didn't have glands for them to lead us by! We could win every time, if we just never had a challenge! Come off it, Father! Glory comes from keeping on trying when you're losing, not from giving up!"

   Brunel's head snapped up in indignant anger-and, for a moment, he almost seemed to have a man's due pride again.

   Then he lowered his head, eyes still on Matt. "Aye, there's truth in what you say: despair's illusion. I, a priest, should know that. No matter how I've sinned, there's always hope I will not sin again. 'Tis deeper shame that a layman must remind me of it."

   Matt nodded slowly, almost with approval. "Then be a priest, Father, and thereby be a man."

   The priest frowned at him a moment longer; then he turned away, planting his fists on his hips and staring at the ground. He looked up, nodding. "I thank you, Wizard. Now stand away from me I must be gone."

   Matt lifted an eyebrow. "Quite an about-face. Where are you heading?"

   "To the nearest church," Brunel answered. "Where should I go?"

   "Why, with us, good Father," Sir Guy said cheerfully. "Let us find this church together."

   "No." Brunel shook his head. "You must ride to the West, and quickly; and I would slow your party, as I've done already."

   "Well, that's a matter of opinion." Matt looked back at the forest. "I'd say we made pretty good time, last night. About sixty miles."

   "Yet you will concede, I did not aid you," the priest said, with a dark smile. "Nay, I'll go my ways. I would be liability to you, and --" He glanced up at Sayeesa, then away: " -- and you to me."

   Sayeesa's head swung around, eyes wide in hurt-but only for a split second; then her face was an impassive mask again.

   Matt tugged at his lip, frowning. "There's some truth in that, but you're in this now, Father. You can't just sit back and watch the big guys fight it out."

   "Can the people ever sit back thus?" Brunel asked drily. "You forget, Lord Wizard, that knights may lead the charge, but the greatest part of war is for the footmen. And the battlefield is farmers'. trampled corn."

   "Quite truly said." Alisande nudged her horse up to the priest, neck stiff, looking down at him. "What soldiers shall you bring to aid us?"

   The priest looked up, taken aback. Then his brow furrowed.

   "I had not thought of that. Yet what better army could you have in this fell war than a troop or two of monks?"

   Slowly, the princess nodded. "What better force, indeed?"

   "Uh..." Matt tugged at an earlobe. "Isn't there something a little bit paradoxical about that? I mean, men of God, out there with swords and pikes?"

   Father Brunel turned to him with a wry smile. "It has been known before, Lord Matthew. Still, I had not such in mind. The weapons I would bid them bring are rosaries, scapulars, holy water, and the relics of the saints."

   Matt caught the scoffing answer on his lips and shoved it into his cheek with his tongue. The weapons the priest had mentioned were all symbols, and very, very powerful ones. Given the rules of this universe, they were apt to do at least as much good as crossbows and a catapult or two.

   Brunel straightened, squaring his shoulders. "Aye, this much I can do; and I see I must. Stand aside, Lord Wizard, let me by. I must find a church and robe, and every monastery that I can, while trooping westward." He turned back to Alisande, and something of the fighting man kindled in his glance. "Where shall I meet you, Highness?''

   "In the western mountains." Battle joy sparked in Alisande's eyes. "In the foothills north of Mount Monglore, hard by the Plain of Grellig."

   "That's a ways to go, and you need to make good time." Matt looked up at Stegoman. "Mind splitting off from the main part? He needs rapid transport."

   "There's some truth in that," the dragon said slowly, "yet would I misdoubt me of thy safety, Wizard."

   "So would I, but I'd worry for Brunel's even more. He's got to have a companion he can't hurt, if he goes were-and who can keep him from hurting anybody else."

   "Rest assured, I'll not turn wolf again," the priest said grimly.

   Matt nodded in deference. "With all respect, Father, I've had some experience with good resolutions. Stegoman, I think I'll be a bit more effective if I don't have to worry about the good priest."

   "Oh, as thou dost wish," the dragon grumbled, waddling over to the priest.

   Brunel hesitated, glancing up at Alisande. She nodded slowly, and he sighed, turning to climb aboard the dragon. He settled between two great dorsal plates and looked back at the princess.

   "At Grellig, then. I cannot pledge how many I will bring; but I think a good round hundred may take up your banner."

   "I'll need each separate man, and a princess' thanks unto them. Your blessing, Father."

   "You'll have it when I'm shriven," Brunel answered, with a rueful smile. "Come, good beast! Away!"

   Stegoman turned his head and lumbered out into the meadow and the tatters of the morning mist, angling off toward the south. He turned back once to catch Matt's eye; the wizard waved; but Brunel kept his gaze riveted on the south. Stegoman turned back to the southwest trail and was swallowed in the mist.

   "Pray God that he'll be safe," Sir Guy murmured, "for his sake, and ours."

   "Be of good heart," the princess answered. "I do not think that he shall die till Grellig. Then, who knows?"

   "Praise Heaven we are rid of him," Sayeesa said. "Now we are safe." But there was a lonely, haunted look about her as she gazed off toward the southwest.

   Matt turned to Alisande. "The sorcerer doesn't make too much hay while the sun shines, does he?"

   The princess puzzled over his meaning, then shook her head. "By daylight he must work through human beings, which lessens the danger to us. 'Tis night we must-fear, when he can raise up foul embodiments of Evil."

   Matt nodded. "Then we'd best be riding. There're at least fifty miles more of this moorland, but we've got some fourteen hours of daylight. We can cover a lot of miles."

   "That we can not, Lord Wizard," Sir Guy said firmly. "Already our poor beasts have been ridden too long. I have spoken with the elfin duke. He tells me there is an outcropping of rocks and a spring, but six miles ahead. There we can rest in the shadow of the rocks while our mounts graze upon the dry grasses about."

   "Okay," Matt said reluctantly. After all, the horses were not like the autos or motorcycles of his experience. "I guess we'll just have to find other shelter when we make later stops."

   "Then mount and ride!" Sir Guy cried, swinging up onto his horse. Suddenly, as he looked down at Matt, his face showed embarrassment. "My apologies, Lord Wizard. I forgot."