"Look down and to our left, perhaps a quarter of an English mile," said Aragh. "See where the hillside dimples. There are no trees or other growth to hide it; but unless I miss my guess that dimple turns inward, and there'll be either a small closed valley of sorts, or a cave."
The rest of them looked. Aragh's sharp sense of observation had picked it out, where the rest of them had missed it. Any casual glance would have passed over what appeared to be, as Aragh said, merely a dimple in the hillside. But now that they looked closely, there were indeed shadows in the depths of it that seemed to hint that it went back farther and to one side.
"Let's ride down to it, then," said Brian.
They went down; and Aragh was right. The dimple turned out to be an indentation in the hillside that went backward and then turned to its right; so that the bulge of its earth wall hid them from all sight of the wood and the castle below. A small stream came down the hillside, to trickle around the corner of the dimple, and on toward the trees below. It was not only a good hiding place, Jim thought, it was also a very good place to camp.
But it was a cold camp, because they were too close to the castle to risk lighting a fire. It was fortunate they were supplied with previously-cooked meat as well as bread and cheese; because these, with wine mixed with water from the stream, made their dinner.
After they had eaten, they sat around in the last light of the closing day, talking with that close camaraderie that comes to those who are about to go into danger together. The only one who had little to say was Aragh, who lay like a lion, on his belly with his head up and his forelegs projecting together before him on the ground. Although the castle and the wood were out of sight, Aragh maintained a steady gaze on the curve of the hillside that hid the view from them. Clearly, he was on watch even now.
The others compared their maps and their memories; and came to agreement on where, at the edge of the woods, they should probably find the entrance to the path that would lead them in among the trees and eventually to the spot where they might contact the one they were going to meet. They might have to search about a hundred yards of the edge of the wood, but not much farther than that.
All this settled, the talk wandered off onto other matters.
Sir Brian was not merely the eldest, but the only child of his father, so that there had never been any question about his inheriting Castle Smythe. It turned out, however—in one of those moments of openness which tend to precede a risky endeavor—that Giles was only the third son in his own family; and therefore had little expectation of any inheritance. Likewise, as a Northumbrian knight with no friends or influence in the south of England, to say nothing of friends or influence at the court itself, he stood little chance of any great advancement in life.
"Frankly, I've never hoped for any such," Giles said to Jim, Brian, and Dafydd.
None of the others commented, least of all Dafydd, whose prospects of advancement were far less even than those of Giles. For all his skill and bowmanship it was unlikely he would ever rise socially in this world. But for him, plainly, such advancement was not important. For one of the gentlemanly class, however, it was almost a duty, besides being something universally desired. The goal of everyone born to higher stations in life, where knighthood was a reasonable possibility, was to win lands and title, one way or another.
For Brian, as a matter of fact, it came close to being a necessity if he wanted to marry Geronde Isabel de Chaney. They were pledged to each other; and once upon a time, before he left on crusade, her father had approved of the pledge. But it was still possible that he could come home again with his mind changed—particularly if he had picked up wealth and power in the Holy Lands; and had developed a higher expectation of who his daughter should marry.
But Giles, who was of a gentle family, had just confessed himself relatively resigned to gaining no great name or wealth in the world.
"There's only one thing I wish," he told his companions. "It's that before I die, I have the opportunity to do one great deed, even if it is in that doing that death comes to me."
This stirred even Dafydd out of his customary silence.
"It is not for me to advise a knight how he should live—or die," said Dafydd, "but it seems to me that there is much more to be said for living and accomplishing what may be done while alive, than by dying and therefore being no more use to the world."
Jim half expected Sir Giles to flare up at this, as he normally did at any sign of a contradiction; but the Northumbrian knight was in a strangely quiet and reflective—almost melancholy-mood.
"Indeed," he said, but he said it gently, "it is not for such as yourself, Dafydd, to tell me or any other knight how to live or die. But that is the difference in our station. Consider, many knights would like to give themselves completely, even to their lives, in some great cause; but are held back by their obligations and their duties to their family, to their wives, even to their names. But chance has made me free of all such responsibilities. My father has two older sons, and two younger, so that the family holding is in no danger of falling into strange hands. Not only have I no special duty to any superior—beyond what brings us to this place now—I have even no duty to my family and my name, except to see that neither is tarnished by my actions. Therefore am I free to do one great thing at least before I die. And that is my dream and my wish."
"You're a young man to be thinking of dying, Giles," said Jim.
He knew himself to be only a few years older than the Northumbrian knight; but beyond this he felt infinitely more mature. Not only because of his marriage, but also because of his upbringing in a world far advanced beyond this one in science and society. In this moment he felt almost fatherly, if not grandfatherly, toward Giles.
"If I were older, would I be as able to give my all so well?" Giles asked him. "No, now is the time for my adventuring; and it may be that this business of bringing our prince safely out of yonder castle is the chance of it."
To Jim, who had absolutely no intention of dying, or even getting hurt if he could help it, this ambition of Giles's was shocking. It sounded like nothing so much as the terrible waste of a life. But it was clear that it was not something that Giles had thought up on the spur of the moment. It was an idea that had evidently been maturing in him for a long time; possibly even for most of his lifetime. Immediate argument would not help, and might hurt. He decided to say nothing more.
Both Brian and Dafydd seemed of the same opinion. Aragh either had no opinion, or else he felt that whatever Giles wanted to do was up to Giles and of no concern or interest to him. For all Jim knew, Aragh might approve of what Giles had in mind. That attitude would fit with this savage age that held them all.
When their dimple was in deep darkness from the sun setting behind the hill at their back, and the woods below were hardly more than blurs in the twilight, they decided to move forward. Jim had decided that Aragh should take the lead, so that the sensitive instrument of his nose would not have interference from the smell of the humans with him. Together, they moved down toward that section of the woods' edge where they thought the entrance to the path might be. The walk was easy down the treeless slope, and the footing was sure enough.
When they reached the edge of the woods they only had to search for a few yards before they came across an entrance that seemed to be the one Sir Raoul had described. It led directly into the tangle of trees before them.
The entrance fitted the minutely detailed description Raoul had given of it. There was a freshly broken twig at the end of a branch, pointing outward from the woods, that was supposed to be a sign not merely that the path was correct, but that the individual they were to meet would be looking for them.
Close up, however, the wood was even more forbidding than it had been from a distance. The trees, most of them, were as low as apple trees; but showed no sign of fruit and only little gnarled excrescences by way of leaves. Their branches were sharply angled. They ran not more than six inches in any direction before makin
g a sharp turn to a new one; and the elbows of those turns narrowed to a spike which, while not quite a thorn, was equally sharp. The three knights instinctively drew their swords as they entered single file behind Aragh. Glancing back from the head of the line, Jim saw that even Dafydd had drawn the long knife that fitted into a sheath on the high side of his left boot.
Once within, they were in fairly complete darkness. Although as their eyes adjusted, the last light of the sky gave them some faint illumination. It was all they had until a little later on, when the nearly full moon—which had risen even before the setting of the sun—rose above the brush and sent its rays among the trees.
Aragh moved confidently ahead. Jim followed him almost by feel at first. Then it occurred to him that he could improve his own ability to see how they were doing. He wrote on the inside of his forehead:
ME→DRAGONSIGHT, DRAGONSCENT, AND DRAGONHEARING
Immediately his vision improved to that which he would have had in his dragon form. It was not a tremendous improvement, but it was better than he had been able to see as a human. In addition, he could now use his nose to a certain extent, even as Aragh was using his to make sure he stayed on the path.
Not that there was any lack of reminders for anyone who traveled that path. It was no more than three feet wide; and any incautious movement could brush an arm or leg against one of the trees. Such casual contact almost certainly brought one up against the pointed branch-elbows, and the scratch that resulted seemed to have the ability to cut through fairly thick cloth or leather.
Still they continued; and the only thing easing their way was the fact that as the moon rose and brightened, the path itself became very much clearer. Jim switched back to his human sight, temporarily, just to check how well his two-legged companions were seeing.
He was a little shocked at what he discovered. Without his dragon sight, with its adaptability to distance and darkness, even the face of Brian right behind him was nothing more than a blur. He turned forward again, just in time to keep from blundering into a tree on his right-hand side, and reactivated his dragon sight.
The path wound amazingly. Jim had long ago lost his sense of direction. He leaned forward and whispered, knowing that the wolf's sharp ears would pick it up.
"Aragh," he asked, "do you think we're still headed toward the castle?"
"We were until a couple of turns ago." Aragh answered so softly that Jim hardly recognized the other's voice. "Since then we seem to be moving level with it through the woods. Note there's nothing but earth underfoot."
Jim had not given thought to this before; but now that Aragh had mentioned it, his own improved sense of smell confirmed the fact that there was nothing green to be scented at ground level. It would have been surprising if there had been, seeing how these trees must block out light even in the brightest daytime.
"I smell a larger patch of earth a short ways ahead," Aragh went on in the same soft voice. "Best if we stop there and decide what to do—in fact, we may have no choice but to stop there."
Jim did not understand exactly what Aragh's last few words meant. He now paid attention to what he had overlooked before, in his happiness at being able to see better with the dragon sight, and was suddenly conscious of the breathing of his three human companions.
All except Dafydd, who was last in line, were breathing heavily and uncomfortably. More than that, Brian was now muttering under his breath. With a little effort and the aid of his dragon hearing, Jim made out something of what the muttering was.
Brian was swearing steadily to himself.
"… Bloody, damn—" Brian's voice broke off as there was a sound of something ripping through cloth. Clearly Brian had blundered against one of the sharp-pointed limb-elbows.
The near voiceless swearing picked up again. Behind Brian, however, both Giles and Dafydd were silent—Giles almost oddly so, as if he held his breath. A creeping concern for his companions began to grow in Jim.
He whispered again to Aragh.
"How close are we to that open space now?" he asked.
"Right ahead. What's the matter with your nose, James?" whispered Aragh sardonically. "You've been snuffling like a dragon for some minutes. Don't tell me you can't smell it up there yourself."
Jim sniffed forward. Sure enough, there was a strong smell of earth, naked earth up in front of them; a smell somewhat like that of the pathway under their feet at the moment, but with a tinge a little damper and more rank.
A moment later they came to the space Aragh had been talking about. Aragh moved ahead and turned around to face the rest of them; and Jim stepped aside once he was in, so that those behind him could also enter.
For a moment they stood there, in a ragged circle, and Brian, at least, was taking advantage of the opportunity to catch his breath. Now, Jim heard Giles doing the same. He breathed heavily, almost exhaustedly. Dafydd's breath still came evenly; and as far as Jim's ears could tell him, Aragh was not breathing at all, so noiseless was the breath that went in and out of him.
For a moment it crossed Jim's mind that they might have reached the point of rendezvous with the half-man, half-toad who had once been a man-at-arms under Sir Raoul's father. But this place had been reached entirely too easily and openly. Their directions from Sir Raoul had been that there would be a small, hidden entrance off the path to the right among the trees, and then back a short distance into a space that was wide enough to let them all stand together, rather than in single file. But in their present case the path had led directly to this open place.
Furthermore, looking around himself with the advantage of the full moon and his dragon sight, Jim saw at least three other ragged circles of darkness that were entrances to further paths. Clearly, this was a sort of meeting place of paths through the forest. A part of its maze-aspect. How were they to tell which one of the three other entrances would lead them toward the castle rather than away from it or deeper into the woods around them?
For the first time, with the moonlight bright upon them all, he took a good look at Brian, Giles, and Dafydd.
All were marked by the sharp, thornlike corners of the trees. Dafydd showed the fewest scratches of all on his face and hands. Brian was continuing to swear under his breath. Giles was making no sound; but his face and hands were literally dripping blood.
"Giles!" said Jim, stepping toward him. "What happened to you?"
"I see not so well at night," said Giles's voice, a little remotely. "It is something that runs in my family, some generations now. Pay no attention."
Brian had swung around by this time.
"Giles!" he said out loud, in a tone of shock. "Man, you seem to have fought the King of Cats! How did it come so badly on you, when the rest of us are only—"
There was a slight hesitation in his voice; then he went on.
"Are but slightly scratched?"
"As I was telling James," Giles began again, still in that remote voice, "it is a type of near blindness that afflicts all my family at night. I did not think it would be of any great trouble here; and indeed, it has not. These are all small scratches."
"A few more like that, and you'll bleed to death," said Brian, lowering his voice once more.
He swung on Jim.
"We must bind him up somewhat and insure that he is kept to the middle of the trail from now on."
"I absolutely agree," said Jim concernedly. "Brian, you and I can tear the bottoms off our shirts to make bandages for his hands and face."
"I protest," said Giles softly, but on a stiffer note. "It is a knight's duty to ignore such small things."
"Perhaps," said Jim grimly, "but more of this and you'll be leaving a trail of blood by which anyone can follow us."
Meanwhile, he and Brian had fished out the bottom edges of their shirts and were busy tearing off strips. Over Giles's rather weak protests, they muffled both of his hands and wrists and all of his face except his nose and eyes, tying the ends of the torn strips together to secure the bandages in place.<
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"From now on," said Jim, "you walk between Brian and me, Giles, with your hands holding to my belt; and Brian will hold to your belt from behind to steer you and keep you in the center of the path."
Brian turned to Aragh.
"Have you any idea where we are, Aragh," he asked, "or which of these three paths we should take?"
"The castle lies in that direction," said Aragh, pointing with his muzzle toward a solid wall of trees between two of the path entrances. "We're roughly in the middle of the wood right now. As to which trail; I know no more than you. On the other hand, were I alone, I might just go below and between the trees directly to the point where they stop at the open grounds of the castle."
Jim took a close look at the wolf for the first time. Aragh was absolutely unmarked. In spite of his four-legged friend's size, Jim realized that the other probably could do exactly what he had just said. With the protection of his body hair, he would worm his way below and between the trees in a more or less direct line until he came out on their inner side.
But that did not solve the problem for the rest of them.
Chapter Twenty-Four
"Which of the three do we take?" whispered Brian after a long moment. "Clearly we have to go farther, since Sir Raoul's directions were that the place would be a narrow path off to the right of the one we were following, its entrance hidden. How in God's name can an entrance to a path be hidden among this tangle?"
The question had been one that did not call for an answer. But Aragh answered almost immediately.
"When the entrance is blocked by a false tree, of course," said the wolf. "This is what comes of not taking me more fully into your confidence."
"What do you mean, Aragh?" Jim asked.
"I mean that we've already passed this secret entrance, in all likelihood," retorted Aragh. "Some small distance back, we passed a tree on our right, which had been cut through at its base and then placed back upon it, the cut being hidden with dirt from the path moistened to a mudlike consistency and patted around it. The moistening had been done with wine—either wine that was sour at the time or else, as probably, it's had plenty of time to sour since. I smelled it as we passed, but thought nothing of it; because none of you had suggested to me that such a false tree might hide the entrance you sought."
The Dragon Knight Page 29
