“I suspect he called in allies from other hills,” Gar told him, “and half of them are wearing skirts, if that makes any difference.”
“When they’re holding laser rifles? It sure does make a difference; to these medieval militarists!”
“You talk as though you know the Fair Folk,” Magda quavered.
Dirk turned to her, suddenly intent, taking her hands. “We spent a night in their hill, my lady, hiding from the Hawks. They would have kept us there, but we escaped. I suspect they don’t feel kindly toward us because of that.”
Fear was still there, but anger rose in Magda behind it. She trembled and her voice shook, but there was iron resolution in it. “They shall not have you!”
“Not while you’re here to come to,” Dirk whispered.
“Room for the Duke of the Hollow Hill!” another voice blasted, and the duke and an entourage of twenty rifle-bearers strode down the hillside. An avenue opened for them like magic, steadily expanding as they strolled along it, rifles at the ready. All eyes were on them, everyone silent in superstitious fear as the Fair Folk exerted what they regarded as their inborn right to rule.
Squarely between armies and wall, the duke stopped and glared up at Gar, where he stood near Magda, somehow conveying the impression of looking down his nose. “This tall Milesian and his friends have angered the Fair Folk! We have come forth by daylight to hale them home! Give them up to us, and no harm shall befall you!”
Magda stood forth, trembling, but her voice was iron-hard as she called down, “Never! They are our guests, and we shall never give them up! It is our honor!”
“And it is the honor of the Fair Folk to have them!” the duke bellowed. “Let fire fall upon this city!”
On the hillside opposite the gate, Fair Folk stepped aside, revealing a squat cylinder as wide as a human arm was long.
“They brought a beam projector!” Dirk hissed. Lightning spat and exploded against the gates of the city. They flew apart, bits of wood raining down everywhere. The gateway to the city stood, open and empty.
The assembled armies strained forward with a roar.
The ball of lightning exploded before them, blasting a crater in the ground. With a moan of superstitious dread, the soldiers pulled back. “Give them up to us,” the duke commanded, “or every building in your town shall suffer that fate!” Dirk exploded louder than the cannon. “Get back into your Hollow Hills!” he bellowed, stepping forward on the ramparts. “Who do you think you are, coming out here and threatening good people whose only fault is sheltering fugitives? Who gave you the right? Do you think your ancestors would be proud of you? With every word you say, you bring down their wrath upon you!”
“Be still!” the duke roared, his voice thunder that echoed off the hillsides. “You are a troll of a Milesian, and unworthy to so much as look upon the Fair Folk!”
Magda tugged at Dirk’s hand, trying to pull him back to safety, but he bellowed on. “And you are unworthy of your lineage! Your ancestors were men and women of peace! They came here so that all people could be equal to one another, none oppressing the other! If they look down upon you now, they’re turning their faces away in shame!”
“Slay me this Milesian!” the duke demanded, and rifles from every hillside centered on Dirk. Before they could fire, though, he bellowed in full rage. “Oh, yes, slay me on lightning! Shoot me down from a mile’s distance! Bravely done, very bravely indeed! You don’t even have the courage to come against a Milesian face-to-face!”
The whole valley was silent, frozen, aghast. Then the duke’s voice answered, softly, but amplified so that everyone could hear: “Is that a challenge, small man?”
“Dirk, no!” Magda gasped.
“It’s the only way,” Dirk muttered to her. Then to the duke, “A challenge, yes, and if I win, you and all your people shall go away, and drive these bosses and their cattle before you!”
“Done!” the duke said, and the gloating was plain in his voice for all to hear. “Come down, little fellow, and you shall be privileged to die upon a sword of the Fair Folk!”
Dirk stepped down, and Magda clung to him, weeping openly. “My darling, no! To have found you, only to lose you!”
“All I care is that you come unscathed through this mess I’ve brought down on you,” Dirk said, then as an afterthought, “and all the people you care for, too.”
Magda straightened, imperious and commanding. “I am the castellan of Quilichen, and while you are here, you are under my authority! I command you not to go!” She turned on Gar. “You! Go in his place!”
“Gladly, for it is I who have brought these Fair Folk upon you,” Gar said, frowning, “and all the bosses and their mercenaries besides. Let me fight him, Dirk.” The look he gave his friend said plainly, For no lover shall miss me if I die.
“I can’t send another man to fight my battles,” Dirk told Magda gravely.
“Then let him fight his own! I am mistress here, and you must obey me!”
“So you think I can’t defend myself from this lanky lout?” Dirk demanded. “But the giant can?”
“It’s not that at all,” Magda snapped. “It’s simply that I don’t mind losing him!”
Dirk took her hand, staring into her eyes. “Does that mean that you don’t want to lose me?”
“Haven’t I only now said it?” Magda demanded fiercely, then wilted. “Yes! It does mean that I do not want to lose you! I have lost one love—I do not wish to lose another! O my darling, if you die in this duel, you shall break my heart again!”
Dirk gazed into her eyes, face totally serious, then very deliberately gathered her into his arms and kissed her.
Everyone on the battlements was quiet, watching. Gar glowered down, his face stone.
Dirk ended the kiss and stepped away, still holding his gaze on hers, still holding her hands. “I have to fight him now, for I’ve given him a challenge, and if I don’t meet it, he’ll take it out on you and your people.”
“Is that all?” Magda cried.
“No,” Dirk said evenly. “The real reason is because if I don’t, I’ll never be able to look in a mirror again, much less look at you without shame.” He released her hands and turned to the stairway—and to Gar, who stood at their head. “Out of my way, old friend. It’s time to earn my life.”
Gar glowered down at him a moment longer, then bowed his head and stepped aside. The ranks of soldiers parted for Dirk, many removing their hats in respect as he passed. Out the main gates he went, striding to meet the duke.
“He must not die!” Magda stepped close to Gar. He reached out to put an arm around her shoulders. “He won’t, my lady. That much I can promise you.”
CHAPTER 19
Dirk bowed to the Fair Man, who stood easily a foot and a half taller than he. The duke grinned down at the smaller man. “Do you truly believe you can best a duke of the Fair Folk?”
“You don’t seem all that fair at the moment,” Dirk retorted. “Where I come from, I’m not exactly what people call a true believer—but I do think I can fence you to a standstill, yes.”
“Then be on your guard!” the duke cried, and drew his sword.
But Dirk’s blade was shorter, and cleared the scabbard first. He only held it on guard, but everyone could see his sword leveled as the duke’s came up, and knew he could have lunged and brought first blood. The duke reddened and tapped Dirk’s blade to open the duel, then instantly circled and thrust.
Dirk parried and counterthrust without riposting. He aimed for the duke’s shoulder, but the tall man was quick enough to pull back so that Dirk only grazed his knuckles. Still, a line of blood showed on the duke’s hand, and the crowd burst into furious comment, amazed that a mortal should draw first blood after all.