“Me glad centaur was still near,” Smash said. “He out of range now.”
Which meant that the ogre’s magic strength was gone again. Irene had fallen in those few seconds that the rear extension of the aisle remained. Now Smash's nonrhyming showed that the Mundane environment had closed in.
“Someone’s out there!” King Oary cried from the embrasure. “After him!” But the guards had no good light for the purpose, and seemed loath to pursue a magic enemy in the moonlight.
“You sword,” Smash said, pressing it into Dor’s hand. “You seeds,” he said to Irene, giving her the bag he had rescued.
“Thanks oodles, Smash,” she said. “Now let’s get away from here.”
But as they moved out, a small gate opened in the castle wan and troops poured forth bearing torches. “Oary must have caught on that it was our magic,” Dor said as they scrambled away.
Soon they caught up to the centaur, who had stopped as soon as he realized what was happening. Dor felt no different as they re-entered the magic aisle, but Smash’s panting alleviated; his strength had returned.
Quickly Dor summarized their situation. “We’re together; we have our magic things, except for Amolde’s spells, and we know King Trent, Queen Iris, and King Omen are alive in Castle Ocna. Oary’s troops are on our trail. We had better hurry on to rescue the three, before the troops catch us. But we don’t know the way.”
“Every plant and rock must know the way to Ocna,” Grundy said. “We can ask as we go along.”
The guards were spreading out and combing through the forest.
Whatever virtues King Oary lacked, he evidently compelled obedience when he really wanted it. Dor’s party had to retreat before them. But there were two problems: this section of forest was small, so that they could not remain concealed long; and they were being herded the wrong way. For it turned out that Ocna was half a day’s walk northwest of Onesti, while this forest was southeast. They were actually moving toward the village settlement, where the peasants who served the castle dwelt. That village would, in the course of centuries, expand into the town of Onesti, whose designation on the map had given them the hint where to find King Trent. They didn’t want to interfere with that!
“We’ve got to get on a path,” Irene said. “We’ll never make it to Ocna tonight traveling cross-country. But the soldiers will be patrolling the paths.”
“Maybe there’s a magic seed for this,” Grundy suggested.
“Maybe,” Irene agreed. “Another tangler would do-except I don’t have one. I do have a cherry seed-“
“The kind that grows cherry bombs? That would do it!”
“No,” Amolde said.
“What’s the matter, horsetail?” the golem demanded nastily. “You’d rather get your rump riddled with arrows than throw a few cherries at the enemy?”
“Setting aside the ethical and aesthetic considerations-which process I find objectionable-there remain practical ones,” the centaur said. “First, we don’t want a pitched battle; we do want to elude these people, if possible, leaving them here in a fruitless search while we proceed unchallenged to Ocna. If we fight them, we shall be tied down indefinitely, until their superior numbers overwhelm us.”
“There is that,” Dor agreed. Centaurs did have fine minds.
“Second, we must keep moving if we are to reach Ocna before dawn. A half-day’s march for seasoned travelers by day, familiar with the route, will be twice that for us at night. A cherry tree can’t travel; it must be rooted in soil. And since it is magic-“
“We’d have to stay with it,” Irene finished. “It’d die the moment we left. Anything magic will be no good away from the magic aisle.”
“However,” the centaur said after a moment, “it might be possible to grow a plant that would distract them, even if it were dead. Especially if it were dead.”
“Cherry bombs won’t work,” Grundy said. “They don’t exist in Mundania. They wouldn’t explode outside the aisle.”
“Oh, I don’t know,” Irene said defensively. “Once they are mature and ready to detonate, it seems to me they should be able to explode anywhere. I’d be willing to try them, certainly.”
“Possibly so,” the centaur said. “However, I was thinking of resurrection fern, whose impact would extend beyond the demise of the plant itself.”
“I do have some,” Irene said. “But I don’t see how it can stop soldiers.”
“Primitives tend to be superstitious,” the centaur explained. “Especially, I understand, Mundanes, who profess not to believe in ghosts.”
“That’s ridiculous!” Dor protested. “Only a fool would not believe in ghosts. Some of my best friends are-“
“I’m not certain all Mundanes are fools,” Amolde said in his cautious way. “But these particular ones may be. So if they encountered resurrection fern-?”
“It could be quite something, for people who didn’t know about it,” Irene agreed.
“And surely these Mundanes don’t,” Amolde said. “I admit it is a bit of a dastardly deed, but our situation is desperate.”
“Dastardly deed,” Dor said. “Are you sure that counterspell we used with the salve worked?”
The centaur smiled. “Certainly I’m sure! We do not have to do such a deed, but we certainly can if we choose to.”
Irene dug out the seed. “I can grow it, but you’ll have to coordinate it. The wrong suggestion can ruin it.”
“These primitives are bound to have suffered lost relatives,” the centaur said. “They will have repressed urgings. All we shall have to do is establish pseudo-identities.”
“I never talked with resurrection fern,” Grundy complained. “What’s so special about it? What’s this business about lost relatives?”
“Let’s find a place on a road,” Amolde said. “We want to intercept the Mundanes, but have easy travel to Ocna. They will pursue us when they penetrate the deception.”
“Right,” Irene agreed. “I’ll need time to get the fern established so it can include all of us.”
“Include us all in what?” the golem demanded.
“Resurrection fern has the peculiar property of-“ the centaur began.
“Near here!” Smash called, pointing. Ogres had excellent night vision.
Sure enough, they had found a path, a bit worn by the tread of peasants’ feet and horses’ hooves.
“Do you go to Ocna?” Dor asked the path.
“No. I merely show the way,” it answered.
“Which way is it?”
“That way,” the section of path to their west said. “But you’ll have trouble traveling there tonight.”
“Why?”
“Because there is something wrong with me. I feel numb, everywhere but here. Maybe there’s been a bad storm that washed me out.”
“Could the path be aware of itself beyond the region of magic?” Irene asked Dor.
“I’m not sure. I don’t think so-but then, it does know it goes to Ocna, so maybe it does have some awareness. I’m not used to dealing with things that straddle magic and nonmagic; I don’t know all the rules.”
“I believe it is reasonably safe to assume the path is animate only within the aisle,” Amolde said. “In any event, this is probably as good a place for our purpose as any. The soldiers are surely using this path, and will circle around here. It is better to meet them in a manner of our choosing than to risk an accidental encounter. Let us begin our preparations.”
“Right,” Irene said. “Now the fern will grow in the dark, but needs light to activate its magic. The soldiers will have torches, so it should be all right.”
“I have the sunstone,” Dor reminded her. “That can trigger the fern, If necessary. Or we could clear out some trees to let the moonlight in.”