Still, Sir Guy had a point. How could there be an ambush in the middle of a plain that made Kansas look hilly? Where would the ambushers hide?
The answer to his question came right after lunch. The army had rested and eaten, packed up the leftovers, and set forth again—but as they marched, the clouds lowered farther and farther, until they touched the earth. The feeling of magic was as thick as the humidity.
"Faugh!" Yverne's voice called from ahead. "What stench is this!"
" 'Tis truly appalling," Maid Marian's voice agreed from farther off. "What evil mist has risen about us?"
"It's the work of sorcerers, whatever it is," Matt called back.
"Are they nearby?" Sir Guy's voice demanded.
"I doubt it," Matt called back. "They're probably still with their army. They can hex us quite easily from there, I assure you—especially since they've already been over this bit of terrain, and we haven't."
"Anything could hide in this fog!" Sir Guy growled.
"You can say that again," Matt called back. "In fact, say anything! Just keep talking, or I won't be able to tell where you are."
"Halt!" the Black Knight cried, and Stegoman slowed and stopped. Matt fumbled toward them, felt a scaly hide under his hand, then saw the slab of Stegoman's side loom out of the mist—and, above, some dark object that must be Sir Guy. "We cannot march amid such blindness," the knight called down. "Hold to the dragon's tail, Lord Matthew, and bid another hold to you. Then, mayhap, we can wend our way to light and safety."
"Not too much wending," Matt cautioned. "We could get trapped going around in a circle forever."
"Thou hast the right of it," Stegoman agreed. "Nay, are we marching west still? Or have we turned already?"
"I'll find out," Narlh's voice said. "Lady, if you would climb down for a few minutes?"
"Surely." There was the slithering sound of cloth against scales. "But what mean you to do, good monster?"
"There's the wizard, over there. Say something, Wizard!"
"Right over here, Yverne," Matt called. "That's right, here—take my hand..."
Yverne caught his fingers and stepped close to him with a shudder. "I had thought myself lost, even in the space of two strides!"
"You could have been," Matt assured her. "But back to your first question—Narlh, what're you trying—"
Wings thundered as huge feet pounded away, then ceased.
"Alley!" Matt swore, not daring to use the first word in Ibile. "He's flying!"
"He shall lose himself!" Stegoman cried. "Knight, dismount—or ride high!"
"What do you mean to do!" Sir Guy cried—but he slid to the ground anyway, then was almost bowled over in the backblast from Stegoman's wings as the dragon leaped into the sky.
"Watch out!" Narlh's voice thundered from overhead. "Where do you think you're going, you plate-nosed platypus?"
"To find thee!" Stegoman rumbled, his voice dwindling. "Nay, come down! Thou'lt be lost forever in this fog!"
"There's got to be a top to it, somewh—Ow! Get off my back!"
"I am not on it, thou dunderheaded drake! Thou hast e'en now collided with mine!"
"Yeah, and those fins hurt, too! What're you doing flying upside down?"
"Upside down?" Stegoman cried, outraged. "Why, thou half-brained half hawk, I am an upright dragon in every sense of the term! 'Tis thou who art inverted!"
"Look, lay off the fancy language and tell me why you're flying with your back to the earth!"
"I am not!" Stegoman howled. " 'Tis thou who dost roll as thou dost fly!"
"Well, sheer off, then! I'm going to find the top of this fog if it kills me!"
"Nay!" Stegoman cried in a panic. "We have need of thee! Thou art too good a monster to squander thy life so untimely!"
There was no answer, except for a high, long, fading screech, as of a falcon stooping.
"He has gone!" Stegoman's voice grew louder. "Nay, Sir Knight, call out to me, so that I may land not too far from thee!"
"Back, everyone!" Sir Guy called. "Back, but stay linked by touch! Give the dragon room to land!"
"I hear thee!" Stegoman's voice boomed out overhead. "Keep thy call sounding!"
"Come nigh!" Sir Guy called. "Come hither! We await you! Come, kindly dragon! Lower thy great bulk to us again, that we might—"
His voice was drowned out by a huge thundering of wing beats that abruptly stilled. Matt strained to see, worried that his friend might have crashed...
"I am landed," Stegoman's voice boomed out. "Come nigh me, friends!"
They all started to move, but Matt called "Wait! We might miss you in the fog! Give us a light!"
Stegoman roared, and Matt saw a dim orange glow ahead and to his right. He slogged over to it, picking up Sir Guy on the way and pulling Yverne at full reach behind him. He was careful to note just how far he was angling away from his former direction of travel. Then he felt Stegoman's scales under his hand, and called out, "We're here!"
The roaring stopped, and he heard Yverne weeping softly behind him. Sir Guy said, "Nay, fear not, maiden. You know the dragon to be a good friend and true. His roar is fearsome, aye, but only for our enemies, not for us."
"You are a great comfort, Sir Knight!" Yverne said, and there was a quality to her voice that kindled jealousy within Matt. "I am assured. But what of our friend the dracogriff
"Dumb beast," Stegoman growled. "Flew away. Up high. Couldn't fmda topsh ofa cloudzh, and izh shtill tryin'."
Matt looked up, alarmed. He tried to stall it, and called, "You need to turn around, Stegoman! We're going the other way."
"How y' know?" But Stegoman slewed around toward Matt, mumbling and looking surly.
Matt frowned. "How's that again?"
"I shaid, shtupid shorsherer who triezh to blind ush all sho he c'n steal our blood," Stegoman grumbled.
Matt felt a chill that had nothing to do with the weather. He would have recognized that slurring anywhere! Stegoman was drunk again.
But how? On what? Had Matt's cure for his hatchling trauma worn off somehow? Or been counteracted?
Or...
"Vile shtuff musht be shtraight from Hell," Stegoman muttered.
"Even so." Sir Guy frowned. "Is't not made by a demon, Sir Matthew?"
"You bet it is!" Now Matt recognized that vile smell—it was charred rum! "Uh, come on, Stegoman. We've got to get out of this fog, before we suffocate."
"Ohh, awright." The dragon lifted his head. "Uh...which way izh out?"
"That way!" Matt pointed straight ahead with total conviction. "I was careful to keep facing the same way I had been as I angled over toward you! Just turn around and head that way! We'll be right on your tail!"
" ' Sh not long enough for all of you." Stegoman lumbered around, headed roughly the way Matt was pointing, and started waddling.
Matt laid a hand on the dragon's tail and stumbled after, yanking on Yverne's hand.
Sir Guy strode along beside him, leaning over to set his helmet near Matt's ear. "Lord Wizard—dare we trust ourselves to a drunken dragon?"
"I think so—he's always had a great sense of direction. But if you think it'll help, you could ask Puck. I mean, this fog is mischief of the first order—if anyone can understand it, it would be him."
"A good thought. Dost'a hear, Puck?"
A diminutive head poked out of the knight's helmet, clambering halfway up on forearms and elbows. It scowled at Matt, squint-eyed, and gave a careful, well considered hiccup.
Matt felt his blood run cold.
"What dost'a wish, knight?" Puck slurred.
"Canst tell us which way to travel in this mist, Puck?" Sir Guy asked.
"Why, whishever way you wanna go!" Puck's eyes widened, and a slow smile spread across his face. "There izh fog! Id'n it purty? Haven't sheen it in sho long I misht it!"
Sir Guy turned a mournful gaze on Matt. "It would seem even our sprite is not immune."