“Even if they use the dogs to hunt us,” said Karin, “I do not think they will find us here.”
Close to the castle but sheltered from it by night and by voima, they felt temporary peace settle around them.
Roric slowly and carefully cleaned his sword, then leaned his forehead on his fists.
“I keep seeing their faces, Karin,” he said quietly.
“I knew Rolf and Warulf well, slept next to them, ate and drank next to them, and now they are in Hel because of me.
Not a very glorious end to their stories.”
“It also would not have been a very glorious end to
yours.
”
“And a very short and pointless story mine has been so far.
I am not a hero out of legend, Karin.
I would never have overcome three men had they fought as desperately as I was fighting, and if I had not had you.”
“You stopped them in their mail and helmets, when you did not even have a shield,” she said warmly, putting her shoulder against his.
“You are enough of a hero for
me,
Roric.
But do you think,” looking toward him sharply in the green light, “you might have come back from the Wanderers’ realm as a man whom steel will not bite?”
“It will bite me all right.”
He showed her the cut on his hand.
“I was saved by fate, not any voima of my own.”
They were both silent for a moment.
“How many men is it,” Roric asked then, “that Hadros boasts he had killed before reaching Valmar’s age?”
“Three, I think.”
“And they were enemies he killed in battle, not men he knew.
I wonder if even
he
could be proud of killing his friends.”
Again there was silence for a moment.
“The warriors—including Gizor—were Hadros’s sworn men,” Roric went on.
“I will have to pay him compensation or be his blood enemy, even more than I am already, and yet I have nothing with which to pay him that he himself did not give me.”
“Then we will win something in the Hot-River Mountains.”
Roric lifted his head.
“A kingdom, perhaps?
I thought of it too.
In fact—it was Hadros’s idea.
I wonder if he will appreciate that I am following his suggestion while I flee for my life from him.”
He tried to keep the bitterness out of his voice.
“Yes, that is exactly what I will do, a single warrior, capture myself a kingdom.”
He put an arm around her.
“You will be the rest of my army, Karin.”
After a few minutes, he added, “As you plan this trip for us, have you thought how we will get to these mountains?
Even if Hadros is not immediately on our trail, Gizor will be—if he lives.”
“I know that,” she said distantly.
“The ships will all be guarded against us, so we will have to go on foot unless we can steal horses somewhere.
And it is a long journey.
Did you have any other jewelry on you besides the ring you gave the Mirror-seer?”
“This necklace,” she said, pulling out a thin chain from inside her dress.
“It might buy us food, but not horses.”
“If the Witch of the Western Cliffs is anything like a Weaver or Seer, we should save it for her.
These creatures of voima seem strangely fond of mortal jewelry.”
Roric stretched, then lay down and put his head in her lap.
“You and your friends the faeys can plan something.
There may be two dozen men surrounding this dell in the morning, and I need to sleep before I fight them.”
2
The faeys woke them shortly before dawn.
“Come with us, Karin.
Wake up, make her wake up.
She has to come with us!
It’s not safe to stay here.
There are dogs in the woods.
Sunlight is dangerous!”
She and Roric allowed themselves to be squeezed into the tunnels before the faeys pulled the stone into position.
With both of them inside, the space seemed even more closed-in than usual.
She took deep breaths of the stale air and tried to remind herself of the alternative to being here.
“Maybe we should just stay here all day,” suggested Roric.
“By nightfall, we should be fully rested—we will have to be if we’re going all that way on foot.
And they should have called off the hunt in these woods by then.”
“You can stay here with us as long as you want, Karin,” said one of the faeys, giving Roric a sideways look as though not entirely sure whether to include him in the offer.
“And where are you going on foot?” another asked.
“Are you not happy here?”
“There are mountains far to the north of here,” Karin said, “mountains that conceal an entrance to the Wanderers’ realm.
We have to go there to rescue someone.”
“Where does she get these ideas?
It must be from Roric!
She said she wants to marry him.
But he just escaped from the Wanderers!
Why would he want to go back?
Maybe he should go back by himself and she can stay here!”
“Wherever Roric goes, I go,” she said loudly, over their high voices.
Roric grabbed her arm abruptly, surprise and joy on his face.
“I hear a horse.”
Karin, startled, listened.
“I hear it too.”
Echoing down the tunnels came the faint sound of a whinny, a thud as of hooves.
The faeys were seized with consternation.
“A horse?
A horse!
There can’t be a horse in our tunnels!
Why is a horse here?
It’s all Roric’s fault!”
“Could it be the way is open again to the Wanderers’ realm?” he asked in delight.
He started to jump to his feet, banged his head, and crawled instead, Karin right behind him.
“This would certainly be easier than trying to find some way hidden in the Hot-River Mountains,” he called back over his shoulder.
The way quickly became dark, and the stone floor and walls were cold to her hand.
“It is!” cried Roric.
“It’s Goldmane!”
Karin wondered briefly to herself if he had been this pleased and excited when he reached her father’s kingdom and saw her there.
The passage became a little wider here, and they crawled to either side of the stallion’s head.
The faeys had followed them, though keeping their distance, and there was just enough faint green light from their lanterns to see Goldmane.
He was sprawled out, legs extended.
He had his head up, and his eyes were wild.
The ceiling here was too low for him to stand, and the wall beyond him was completely solid.
Roric stroked the stallion’s nose and rumpled his mane.
“Did you come through on your own to help us, boy,” he asked affectionately, “or did they push you through that one-way door of theirs back into mortal realms?”
The horse’s eyes rolled, but he became somewhat calmer.
“I used to think,” said Roric, “that if we had access to the Wanderers’ knowledge then many aspects of mortal life which seem to make no sense would become clear, but I now think they are even more confused than we are.”
Karin clenched her fists.
Her heart beat inside her chest as though its space was too tight.
The closed-in, trapped feeling was growing stronger.
“Roric,” she said.
“We cannot stay here all day.
We must leave
now.
”
Goldmane evidently agreed.
He whinnied again and tried ineffectively to kick his way free of the imprisoning tunnel.
“We can’t have a horse in here!” the faeys announced from a safe distance.
“Good,” said Roric.
“Help me get him out.”
It seemed that there could not possibly be enough space to shift the stallion, yet somehow there was.
The faeys came forward first hesitantly, then more bravely, then with happy boldness once they realized the horse would not hurt them.
With Goldmane scrambling himself along, and the faeys behind him pushing, they worked him slowly toward the entrance to the tunnels.
“What do you think, Karin?” Roric asked.
His stallion’s nose was now against the stone that closed the tunnels, and he seemed to smell the open air beyond.
“Do we wait until nightfall, with both Goldmane and the faeys more and more unhappy, or do we rush out into what may be the middle of the hunt for us?
The dogs will have had no trouble tracking us to the dell.”
She closed her eyes and opened them again.
For the last ten minutes she had had to concentrate on her breathing to keep it from becoming wild gasps for air.
“We go,” she said unsteadily.
“I know you’ll be able to fight free of whatever is out there.”
Roric grinned and kissed her quickly.
“At least we’ll have the advantage of surprise,” he said.
“Gizor will never expect us and a horse to come out of a hillside!”
The faeys retreated back out of range of the feared sunlight.
Karin put her shoulder to the stone, then stopped and looked toward them, feeling suddenly guilty.
“Thank you,” she called, “thank you for sheltering us, and,” she paused for a second, “if I do not see you again, for always being my friends.”
“Good-bye,” they called tentatively, then, “What does she mean, if she doesn’t see us again?
Is she going to her kingdom now?
But she said her kingdom was beyond the sea!
Roric is making her do it!”
Then she pushed, and the entrance stone rolled easily away.
Goldmane kicked his way through the opening, and they went with him, out of the hillside into almost blinding daylight.
The stallion scrambled to his feet.
Karin, blinking hard against the sun, pushed the faeys’ stone back into a position.
“Good-bye, Karin!” she heard faint calls from within.
A piercing whistle split the air.
“They’re here!
I found them!
Gizor!
I found them!”
Roric vaulted up onto his stallion’s back.
There was shouting in the near distance and a single warrior standing at the edge of the dell.
She reached out and Roric grabbed her arm to pull her up behind him.
They were still trying to find their balance on Goldmane’s bare back when a pack of dogs came boiling into the dell, and the spaces between the trees that ringed it were suddenly full of armed men.
Roric yelled to his horse, and Goldmane sprang forward.
Just one warrior barred their way on this side, and he leaped back as Roric swung his sword.
Then the stallion was scrambling out of the dell and up onto the hillside beyond.
As he shot under low-leaning oaks, Karin ducked down, clinging desperately to Roric.
Behind them was frenzied barking and a shouting that might have had words, though none of them made sense.
But in the midst of the men galloping after them was a wagon, and in it a bandaged warrior whose naked sword was held left-handed.