A bellow rang out — Andrew’s voice—”A path! We have got a path!”
Duncan now was on his feet, his attention divided between Andrew’s sudden bellow and the harpooned hairless one, which slowly tipped backward, its club fallen from its hand, as Scratch still clutched the trident’s shaft, tugging furiously to disengage the tines. Just beyond Conrad, Tiny leaped from the body of a hairless one that he had downed, crouching for a new attack.
For the moment, it seemed, there was nothing to attack. There were no more hairless ones. Rolling fog still poured from out the forest and the trees still were thrashing furiously, but the small band of hairless ones who had broken through now were lying on the ground, either dead or dying.
Andrew still continued shouting, “We have a path! We have a path!”
“Head for that path,” yelled Duncan. “All of you. Get out of here.”
He took a quick stride to one side, grasped Conrad around his massive body and heaved him to his feet. Even as Duncan lifted him, the big man still was scrambling wildly to retrieve his fallen club. He grasped it in his left hand and staggered forward, his right arm still dangling at his side. By main strength, Duncan awkwardly got him turned around.
“Andrew has a path,” he told him. “Get out there and follow it.” Tiny came up, his face wrinkled in doggish worry.
He pushed himself close against the tottering Conrad, trying to support him.
Scratch was there, too, dragging the trident with one hand, wedging himself between Tiny and Conrad.
“Here,” he said to Conrad, “lean upon my shoulder.”
Duncan reached out and took the club from Conrad’s hand.
“I’ll carry this,” he said. “Lean on the demon. He is stout and strong. He can give you help.”
“I need no help,” growled Conrad.
“The hell you don’t,” said Duncan.
Conrad put his left hand on Scratch’s shoulder, started hobbling away.
Duncan swung around. Diane, he saw, had hold of Daniel’s forelock, was leading the big horse across the clearing, toward Andrew’s path. Off to one side, Snoopy was racing toward the path, driving Beauty before him.
For one last look, Duncan swung around. The wood still was in violent commotion and the fog still was seeping out of it. But coming out of it were no more hairless ones, no more snaky creatures with cruel beaks.
They had to get out of there fast, he knew. The magic built into the forest by the gnomes might not hold much longer, and once it failed the way would be open for the Horde to come down upon them.
Give us time, he prayed. Time to get through the woods and to reach the fen.
For once they reached the fen, they probably would be safe. Even if the hairless ones or others of the Horde tried to follow them across the water, defense against them would be relatively simple.
He felt a hand upon his arm.
“Come on, Duncan,” said Diane. “The others all are on the path.”
Wordlessly he turned and followed her.
The path was narrow, with only scant room for one person to push his way through. Daniel, Duncan thought, might have some trouble.
Ahead of him he heard the others making their way down the path. Snoopy had said, in his anger, he remembered, that the stupid gnomes had built a trap that could not distinguish between friend and foe — and in this Snoopy had been wrong. It had not yielded to the magic of the Horde, but had paid attention to Meg’s witchery and Andrew’s howled-out Latin.
Slowly he backed down the path, watching behind him. And as he backed the path closed in behind him. Trees materialized or shifted to block the way and heavy growth closed in.
He turned and said to Diane, “Let us run for it.”
Ahead of them he saw open sky, and a moment later they burst from the woods. The others were ahead of them, running down the slope, Conrad loping in the rear, using his left hand to cradle the useless right arm.
Scratch ran ahead of all of them, racing for the fen. At its edge, he halted for a moment and looked about, as if searching for a landmark. Then he ran along its shore for a little way and plunged into the water, the others following.
When they reached the shore, Diane and Duncan walked out into the water, which came barely to their ankles. As they went farther, in places it became deeper, but never more than knee-deep. Ahead of them lay a small rocky island, and when the others reached it they clambered over it and disappeared. A few minutes later Diane and Duncan reached the island, climbing over the piled-up rocks. On the other side they found the rest of them, huddled out of sight — Daniel standing in the water just beyond the island, effectively hidden by the tumbled rocks.
Scratch reached up and pulled them down. “We’ll hide here,” he said. “if the Horde doesn’t see us, they probably will not try to venture out. They’ll have no idea the fen can be crossed.”
They lay behind the rocks and watched. The woods still existed, although from their distance, there was no sign of the commotion within it, except for tiny puffs of fog still issuing from it.
Again they could hear the wailing. At times it was fairly clear and loud, at other times faded.
Snoopy came crawling up the rocks to stretch himself beside Duncan.
“Those crazy gnomes,” he said, “built better than they knew. Even the witch could not detect the magic of the woods. And they still are standing up.”
Even as he spoke, the woods vanished, disappearing in their entirety. The slope on which they had stood lay quite bare except for a scattered band of hairless ones, and behind them other creatures half obscured by fog.
The hairless ones moved down the slope, shambling along. At the edge of the fen they stopped, staring across the water, then began running up and down the shore, like quartering dogs seeking out a scent. After a time they went back up the slope, walking through the fog bank, which moved to follow them. In a little time they and the fog bank disappeared over the crest of the slope and did not reappear.
“We’ll wait here until evening falls,” said Scratch. “It won’t be long. The sun is not far from down. Then we’ll move out. It never gets quite dark out here. There is always some reflection from the water.”
Conrad was sitting on a rock near the edge of the island, hunched over, hugging his injured arm close against his body. Duncan made his way down to him.
“Let me see that arm,” he said.
“The damn thing hurts,” said Conrad, “but I don’t think it’s broken. I can move it if I have to, but it hurts when I do.
A club caught me, on the fleshy part of the arm, just below the shoulder.”
The upper arm was so swollen that the skin was shiny. An angry red welt, beginning to change to purple, covered the area from the shoulder to the elbow. Duncan squeezed the arm gently and Conrad flinched.
“Easy there,” he said.
Duncan took the elbow in his palm, worked it slowly up and down.
“It’s not broken,” he said. “You’re a lucky man.”
“He should have it in a sling,” said Diane. “It’s easier that way.” She reached into the pocket of her new buckskin jacket, brought out the filmy green gown she’d worn.
“We can use this,” she said.
Conrad looked at it. “I couldn’t,” he moaned. “If back home, the word got out…”
“That’s nonsense,” she said. “Of course you can.”
Duncan laid the club beside Conrad. “Here’s your club,” he said. “Thanks,” said Conrad. “I would have hated to lose it. The best of wood, well seasoned. I spent hours shaping it.”
Working swiftly, Diane fashioned a sling from the gown, eased it around the arm, tied it at the shoulder.