Something was making an awful lot of crashing in the brush, was coming nearer. The horse lifted its head, staring in the direction of the sound, sniffed the breeze, then gave a whinnying scream and ran off the other way.
"Beware!" Fadecourt held up a hand. "What moves..."
The crashing exploded into a roar, and the roar resolved itself into words. "Fershlugginer unprintable mirandible hob-goblin! How in a harpy's hasp did the trail get trounced?" Matt relaxed. "I don't think it's anything to worry about."
A huge body burst through the screen of brush and let out a roar of exasperation that ended in a two-foot tongue of flame. "How can a body expect a poor dracogriff to find a fool slip of a girl if the unprintable trail keeps changing on him!"
"We're having the same problem, too, Narlh." Matt stepped away from the trees out into the clearing. "At least, Fadecourt is—I couldn't have found enough trail to get confused about in the first place."
"Oh. You guys, huh?" Narlh paced up to them, still steaming. "A fine, thankless job you gave me, Wizard!"
Things suddenly connected, and Matt admitted, "Sorry. The more so because the confusion's my doing, I guess."
"Your what?" Narlh bleated, and Fadecourt looked up, startled. "How could it be so, Wizard?"
"Because I cast a confusion spell on anyone following her," Matt explained, with a sheepish try at a smile. "I forgot we might want to find her ourselves."
"Oh, real smart, Wizard! Real smart!" Narlh fumed. "I mean, you coulda thought of that before you sent me off chasing wild geese, y' know?"
Fadecourt wasn't looking too happy, either, but he said, "Aye. I heard the spell, too. I should ha' thought of it also."
"Nice of you to say so." Matt sighed. "But I'm afraid it's really no one's doing but mine."
"Can you not disperse the spell you've cast?"
"Sure—but the men who're chasing her might find her, too, then. And I can't be any more specific, waiving the spell just for us and not for them, without knowing her name or something else to identify her by."
"How come?" Narlh demanded, but Fadecourt held up a hand. "Do not ask, or he might answer—at more length than we wish."
Matt's mouth tightened in chagrin. He'd felt the old college instructor's juices starting to flow again and had been all ready to launch into a lecture.
"Right." He sighed. "Well, I guess the best we can do now is to set up camp and hope we hear her yell if she needs help."
"Well thought," Fadecourt agreed, "but not in midwood, with enemies thrashing about it, an it please you. Let us go seek some more defensible site."
"Not a bad idea," Matt agreed. "Maybe some high ground, anyway, even if we can't get out of the trees."
"I will be glad that our enemies must toil uphill to come upon us," Fadecourt answered. "Come, gentles—let us seek a slope."
He turned away, and Narlh fell into step beside Matt. " `Gentles'? Who's he calling 'gentles'?"
"You and me," Matt assured him.
"Is that a compliment, or an insult?"
"A compliment, coming from him—so it shouldn't be an insult, going to you."
Narlh looked at him sharply. "You saying that what I'm hearing might not be what he's saying?"
"I've known it to happen." Matt sighed. "Let's just find a campsite, Narlh."
CHAPTER 10
The Chased Damsel
"How's dinner coming?"
Narlh looked down at the roasting pheasants and blew a little more flame on them. "Not bad. What'm I going to eat?"
"Hold on.", Matt frowned. "How come you didn't figure they're for you?"
"Because the two of them together might, just might, make one very small appetizer. Can I go out to hunt now?"
"No, hang it—unless I'm going to chant the whole spell all over again."
Narlh looked upward and said, with clear reluctance, "I suppose I could try a vertical takeoff."
"No, don't bother." Matt was frowning. "The force field—uh, magical shield—closes over the top about twenty feet up, like a dome. Guess I'll just have to let you out." He turned and rubbed a patch in the talcum with one foot. "Next time let me know before I lock up, huh?"
The dracogriff stared. "That's all it takes?"
"That's all." Matt looked up, frowning. "What are you waiting for? Happy hunting."
"Be not apprehensive, Lord Wizard," Fadecourt said, by way of reassurance. "He will return alive and well. 'Tis not quite dark."
"No, not quite." Matt stood beside the warding circle, scanning the open meadow anxiously. The grass rose above him to a ridge, a long, natural avenue between ranks of trees.
"Would you not know if a sorcerer had cast a spell at him near us?"
"Well, I think so...There!"
Narlh was still licking his chops as he came back to the circle. "Hurry up!" Matt called impatiently.
"It was worth the trip." Narlh looked back at Matt. "What's got you all of a sudden?"
"That sorcerer who's been chasing you—I was beginning to wonder if he'd caught you." Matt tapped more powder over the break in the circle.
"I noticed that last night you laid the circle but did not enchant it," Fadecourt said. "Are you expecting greater trouble tonight?"
"Not really," Matt said, "and I'm not expecting trouble tonight, any more than last night."
"Ah." Fadecourt lifted his head. "Then you did expect attack last night."
"Let's say I was aware of the possibility," Matt hedged. "But since Narlh and I were keeping watch, I could have recited the words of the spell at the last minute, if there had been any sign of attack."
"Not trusting me to take my turn on watch, of course."
"Well, you are a little new to the party." Matt shifted uncomfortably. "But if there wasn't any trouble, I preferred not to cast a spell that might tip off the enemy to the presence of a wizard from the opposing side."
"I shall have to take your word for that." Fadecourt sighed. "I've no experience with the feelings of magic—only with its results. Still, I do wish you would trust me well enough to let me take my turn."
"I'm sure we will, after a few days. Now; how about those pheasants?"
After making quick work of dinner, they lay down, Matt bundled in his cloak, Fadecourt sleeping with his soles toward the fire, head pillowed on one arm. Matt eyed Narlh, pacing the circle, and he smiled at the feeling of security the sight of the dracogriff gave him, then closed his eyes and let sleep claim him.
A high, wavering scream slashed through his dream and jolted him wide awake. "Narlh! What the deuce—"
"Not me." The dracogriff stood rigid, facing off into the darkness. "From over there, toward the east. But it might be bait."
"Bait?"
"A ruse, to persuade you to charge out blindly into the night, where you'll have no warding circle." Fadecourt had risen, too. "By your leave, Lord Wizard, allow me to investigate."
"But what if you don't come back?"
"Let us discuss that when it happens, shall we?" The Cyclops stepped over the circle and was gone into the darkness before Matt could say anything. He was back a second later—trying to catch up with the maiden who fled past him, screams of raw terror tearing her throat. So Fadecourt's back was to the forest, and he didn't see what was chasing her—a gauzy white shape, drifting after the woman against the night breeze.
"Hey! Over here!" Narlh called. The woman looked up, saw Narlh, and stopped dead in her tracks.
"He's friendly!" Matt called. "Over here! We're the good guys!"
The woman cast a glance back and up at the ghost, turned toward them—and stood, trembling with indecision, and screaming, screaming...
Fadecourt caught her up like a baby and pounded toward Matt and Narlh, leaping the circle and setting the young woman down by Matt. She threw her arms around the wizard, clutching him as though he were a tree limb above a hundred-foot drop. Her screams instantly dissolved into sobs.