"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."
Matt smiled up at him. "I do need something to ride on, don't I? Well, fortunately we have a good supply of sticks."
"Sticks?" Alisande frowned. "How will you ride sticks?"
Matt made no answer. He'd found what he was looking for a six-foot stick with a sharp bend in the end, like a giant check mark. With twine twisted out of grass, he lashed on other sticks to form legs, shoving them into the ground to stand firm. With a bunch of dried grass tied on for a tail, Matt had a very rough semblance of a horse.
He stepped well back from it and chanted:
In an area around the mockup, haze began to thicken. It turned impenetrable and began to boil upward, mounting far above Matt's head. An elephant would have been lost in it, and Matt frowned. But then it began to clear - and was suddenly gone. Where it had been stood a great chestnut stallion, its neck arched proudly. The horse turned its aristocratic head and looked at Matt.
But for Matt's needs, he saw that his enchantment was still incomplete. And two others in the party were riding bareback, which was hardly the ideal. He frowned and cobbled together another verse:
He blinked and saw that the horse stood bridled, with a western saddle on his back. Matt breathed a sigh of relief; at least he could ride in comfort for a change. And he saw that the other mounts now all had saddles, though not in the western style.
The chestnut walked up to Matt, nickering softly, and butted his head against Matt's chest.
"Yooo, big fellow!" Matt stroked the warm neck, feeling a strong affection for the beast. They'd get along together.
"With mine own eyes I saw it," Sir Guy breathed. He'd been staring speechlessly for the past few minutes. "Else could I never have given it credit."
"Just as well; I'm overdrawn." Matt swung into the saddle, amused at the Black Knight. Sir Guy had seen him make a fairy castle vanish and cause trees to pull up their roots and walk, and the knight had scarcely lifted an eyebrow. But conjure up a horse, and he was awed. Nothing like professional interest ...