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.

She laughed gaily. "A bit too much material," she said. "It'll hang on you like a cape. But you'll have to put up with that. I will not tear it up. There may be a time I'll need it."

Conrad grinned at her.

"Everyone must be hungry," he said. "Beauty's down there with Daniel. Someone should take off her packs. We have some food in there."

"No cooking, though," said Duncan. "We can't show any smoke." Conrad grunted. "No wood to burn, anyhow. The packs must have something we can choke down without cooking."

As evening came down Duncan and Diane sat together on a boulder at the water's edge. They had been silent for a time. Finally Diane said, "Duncan, about that sword. The one that Snoopy gave me."

"Yes. What's wrong with it?"

"Nothing. Absolutely nothing. But it's strange."

"It's unfamiliar to you."

"It's not that. It" s—how do I say this? It's as if someone's helping me. As if another arm than mine is wielding it. As if someone steps inside me and helps me handle it. Not that I haven't control of it, for I have. But as if someone's helping."

"That's your imagination."

She shook her head. "I don't think so. There was a sword that was thrown into a lake…"

"That's enough," said Duncan sternly. "No more fantasy. No more."

"But Duncan, I'm afraid."

He put an arm around her, held her close against him. "It's all right," he said. "Everything's all right."

28

It was, Duncan told himself, like walking through a painting, one of the blue pastel landscapes with an overtone of faery that hung in one of the sitting rooms at Standish House, precious little canvases that had been painted so long ago and hid away so long that no one now could remember who the artist might have been. Not much contrast in color, all executed in various hues of blue, with the only other color a pale moon of rather sickly yellow glinting through the blue of clouds and sky. No contrasts, nothing but subtle gradations of color, so that viewed from a distance the canvas seemed to be little more than a smudge of blue. Closer up one could make out the details and only then could there be some appreciation of what the painter might have had in mind. There had been one of them, he remembered, very much like this, a flat watery landscape showing little but the expanse of water, with deeper tones that hinted at a distant shoreline, and in the sky, as here, the sickly yellow moon.

They had been making their way through the water for hours, keeping very much in line, following close upon one another's heels, each turning as the one ahead of him turned in order to stay on the narrow underwater ledge of rock along which Scratch was feeling his way at the head of the column.

Besides the moon, there were a few stars in the sky, although at times the drifting, filmy clouds blotted out the most of them. But the flat, smooth surface of the fen, acting like a mirror, picked up and reflected every splinter of light that fell upon it. With eyes now well adjusted to the dark, it did not seem that they were moving through night at all, but through twilight, through that time of day, that particular moment, when the last deepening of twilight gives way to final night.