If it weren't for the trolls and the bloated dragon and Bavmorda's troops, Madmartigan might have had a little time to wonder why he was actually pleased to see Sorsha again, even though she was part of that opposing army. As it was, fighting off dozens of men while trying not to get burned to death didn't leave a lot of time for introspection.
It became difficult not to think of her when he rolled to his back after leaping from an impaled dragon head and she was standing over him holding a sword half as long as she was tall.
I suppose my power enchanted you and you were helpless against it.
It was exactly how he felt, and it was going to get him killed.
Or kissed.
Which was a pleasant turn of events.
Sorsha whirled around and began fighting her own people, and he put his back to hers and fought with her. He'd kissed too many women to count, but this? This was a first.
Willow–large-hearted Willow–had no questions at their new ally, and neither did Airk's men. The latter had been around long enough to discover, as Madmartigan was beginning to, that sometimes betrayal ran in your favor.
Madmartigan's many betrayals had all been safe and petty, serving only himself. He'd never risked the wrath of the most powerful sorceress in the world, as Sorsha had done by joining their cause. And though he had a healthy sense of his own greatness, he wasn't quite so arrogant as to believe that his pretty face and a few lines of bad poetry were all that lay behind her choice.
"You sure about this?" He darted a look over to Sorsha, riding to his right, on her own horse this time.
She looked back and nodded curtly. Her eyes were set and cold, not the eyes of a moonstruck lover, and he found it encouraging. "I'm only sorry it took me this long."
"Me, too."
The corner of her mouth edged up, and he could tell she knew he wasn't talking about her. In this moment she was more than simply beautiful, this daughter of the woman he hated most of all. Even dirt-streaked and travel-grimed, she shone with hope.
He felt the same hope in his answering smile. They could be strong; they had to be strong, for Willow, for Elora Danan, for all the people following them.
There were only two ways this could end.
In the one he was fighting toward, there were baths and clean clothes and a hot meal with a flagon of beer or two, getting Willow to sing a few Nelwyn songs or tell some of their legends or...talk farming. Whatever Willow would do when he wasn't saving the world. He'd like to see his friend at ease.
Elora would be free to grow up and live her own life, outside the threat of death. Madmartigan felt a unexpected pang at the thought of leaving the infant, but he glanced again to his right and caught a glimpse of a wisp of flame-red hair that had come loose from Sorsha's helmet, and maybe there would be a way he wouldn't have to leave Elora, after all.
As for Sorsha herself, and he himself–they didn't have normal lives and loving families to return to, like Willow did. They might not be good at making one, even if that would turn out to be something they both wanted, and what had happened to him in the past few weeks?
The other way this could end, they'd never have a chance to find out how rest sat on any of them.
He urged his horse a little faster, getting in a bit of a race with Sorsha and throwing a grin towards Willow as they passed him. His friend shook his head, smiling back in spite of his fears.
Maybe hope would get them all killed, but Madmartigan wouldn't trade this chance for anything.
He circled back to come alongside the Nelwyn. "Thank you," he said simply, with no trace of irony.
"For not wanting to let you out of the crow's nest, or for leading you to almost certain death?"
"For leading."
A shadow passed over Willow's face. "If we make it home..."
It would be bad luck to talk defeat before the battle had been engaged, so Madmartigan interrupted. "We've almost been killed before on this quest." He nodded ahead at Sorsha.
"But that was your fault."
Madmartigan grinned. "So it's your turn. And it's my turn to be amazed at how spectacularly it all turns out."
Willow's jaw set, and he nodded firmly. "You are great."
"So are you, Willow." He looked to Sorsha, who had swung back around to meet them. "We can do this."
Maybe it was only when you had a cause worth dying for that you could feel the full warmth of being alive.
His heart was burning with it.