Magnus could see the game; the eagle would maneuver until it was just above the falcon, then pounce upon it. It was none of his affair, of course, but he couldn't help seeing himself in the smaller bird, and turned to glare at the eagle.
The predator faltered, then began to glide in a huge curve. Magnus spared a glance at the falcon, thinking a summoning thought at it too, and both birds, quite unwillingly, found themselves winging back toward the young man, impelled by the imperatives of his thoughts. They stretched their claws to light on branches of nearby but separate trees, one to each side of Magnus. He looked at them both sternly, and began a silent dialogue, mind to mind to mind, which, if it had been voiced, might have sounded somewhat like this:
"Eagle, wherefore dost thou pursue this falcon? Knowest thou not that he is not thine ordained prey?"
"He hath stole from me! An he doth take my food, he shall become it!"
"Why, how is this?" Magnus turned to frown at the falcon. "What hast thou Wen?" Looking more closely, he saw a mouse in the falcon's claws.
"Only the small warm one."
"So small a morsel?" Magnus turned back to the eagle. "It should be beneath thy notice!"
"Should or not, 'tis mine! I stooped upon it, and this upstart did swoop betwixt me and it!"
"Game doth belong to him who doth seize it first!"
"Then thou art my prey!" The eagle stretched its wings. "Give over thy claim!" Magnus thought sternly, and brought more of the dried meat out of his saddlebag. "Give over thy claim against the falcon, and thou shalt have this!" The eagle eyed the meat with interest. "What beast is that?"
"'Tis the flesh of a deer, which are too great to be game for thee."
"Give me!"
Magnus tossed a scrap of pemmican toward the eagle. The wicked beak snatched the morsel out of the air; it disappeared. The eagle nodded. "'Tis good. More of that, and I'll give over pursuit."
Magnus brought out a larger piece of meat as he nodded at the falcon. "Begone!"
"I shall!" The smaller bird winged away. "I shall repay thee at need!"
Magnus tossed the large scrap to the eagle, who caught it and rose into the air on thundering wings, then soared away. Magnus shook his head. "Let us go, Fess."
But the eagle banked and circled about, winging back toward them, but stalling, swooping lazily in the breeze, turning to stay near. "Name thyself, rider! For thine actions are well done, and not of the common sort. Wherefore comest thou here?"
"I am Magnus Gallowglass," the young man answered, trying to follow the bird's sliding movements, "and I seek the Green Witch of the West."
"Then gather such of the mistletoe as ye may find," the eagle called, its voice eerie in the moonlight. "Bear the berries with ye, that they may give ye guidance!" It wheeled away from him, crying, "Then up, even to the clouds! And find the channel of the stream that died!"
"Why, how shall I know such a channel?" Magnus called, but the eagle only gave a long and tearing cry as it turned back to him. Remembering his manners, Magnus came alive long enough to snatch another bit of dried meat from his saddlebags, and tossed it up. The eagle dipped in flight to catch it, then circled away, crying, "Fare thee well, mortal man! Persevere! And if thou shouldst have need of me, why, call!" The night swallowed it up.
"At the least, it seems, she hath deemed me worthy of her care," Magnus muttered, "or her guardians have. Come, Fess-I must ride by an oak, to gather berries."
Fess went ahead, secretly delighted that Magnus was showing so much sign of life.
He even summoned the energy to clamber up standing on Fess's saddle, holding onto the tree's limbs for balance-he, who should have been as surefooted as a mountain goat!and cut down several bunches of berries. He cradled them in his arm as he carefully lowered himself back to the saddle, muttering, "What shall I do with these?"
"I doubt not their use shall become apparent, Magnus. The road leads upward. Are you settled?"
"As well as I may be," Magnus grumbled. He gripped the horse's side with his knees and caught the reins with his free hand. "Away, Fess."
Up they rode, higher and higher. There was water somewhere, certainly; they passed small rills, purling across the path at intervals. They even passed a small marsh, where several of the streamlets pooled, and went by the dried stalks of rushes that rattled in the breeze. Then mist closed about them, chill and clammy. Magnus clung to the horse. "Canst thou tell thy way by radar, Fess?"
"Yes, Magnus, but I must go slowly. There is a limit to both range and definition; I cannot be certain of the condition of the path."
Then rock walls closed about them; even through the mist, Magnus could tell he was surrounded by stone, from the echoing of Fess's hoofbeats. "We are come into the pass, are we not?"
"We are, Magnus. And the signs of erosion are there-this was indeed a river's channel once."
The mist lightened, and thinned; Magnus could see the layers of rock to either side, glinting with flecks of micaand the mouth of the pass before them. "Where there was a river, there may be a lake, may there not?"
"Yes, Magnus. Of more importance is that a former channel may indicate the river's course has changed-which would produce the oxbow lake your father spoke of."
"Even so." Magnus nodded. "Let us see what lies beyond the pass."
They came out into the false dawn, the whole land half-lit by the eerie, sourceless light-and the land fell away before them, sloping down to a flat yet restless surface: the curving lake, ruffled by the wind.
Magnus felt tension bring him to full alertness. "What shall I do now?"
"Use the mistletoe," Fess suggested.
"In what manner?"
The robot was silent, searching its memory, correlating. "The ancients who used mistletoe in their worship threw gifts to their gods in their forms as objects of nature. Think of this Green Witch as a river spirit; your gift is the mistletoe."
Magnus nodded and slipped out of the saddle. "Bide thee here, then, for I must pace down to the water's edge."
"I shall-but I shall come quickly if you call, Magnus."
"Do, I prithee." The young warlock hefted his rowan shield, cupping the berries in the crook of his arm, and broke off a bunch. He marched slowly down to the bank, then threw the mistletoe into the water, crying, "Maid of the Lake, I cry thy mercy!"
The water lay still.
Magnus was just beginning to think he had failed, and to see the whole night's ride as a senseless charade, when ... Water burst upward into a fountain, and a woman rose from the lake. Magnus stared, for this was not the crabbed old crone he had expected, nor even a woman in the fullness of maturity, but a girl younger than he, at least to the eye, clad only in the long, dark hair that fell about her shoulders, past her breasts and down her hips. He felt a pain within him, a sudden wrenching; her beauty took his breath.
Then she was out of the water, speeding across the waves to the shore, plunging away from him into the night. Magnus, jolted from his trance, cried, "Fess!"
"Here, Magnus." The great black horse was beside him in an instant.
Magnus dropped the mistletoe and leaped astride. "Chase her, Fess! I have come too far, have waited too long, am too sorely in need to be denied!"
Fess bolted off after the fleeing form, rejoicing that Magnus seemed once again fully alive.
For a wonder, she ran more quickly than the horse. Or perhaps no wonder, after all-she was a magic worker. Magnus rode entranced by the sight of the long, perfect legs flashing in the moonlight, of the glorious mane that swirled about her as she ran, cloaking her far better than a gown. Magnus focused his thoughts in a summons. "Fox and eagle! Falcon! I cry thine aid, in return for mine! Turn this woman from her path!"