Sean Russell - The Shadow Roads

Torches appeared ahead. A bit of light made shadows out ofdarkness. And then a line of horsemen loomed out of the night. The Renne letout a great shout, and the two lines of cavalry struck like a hammer to ananvil.

There was fighting all around. Vast ducked his head andwheeled his horse. He saw a man in a Wills surcoat raise his sword to deliver astroke to a Renne and he tore the blade from the man’s hand, knocking him fromthe saddle with a blow to his helm.

He turned his horse in time to parry a slash from anotherWills rider. In desperation he cut the man down. The irony was not lost on him.He was fighting for the Renne whom he had tried to betray. Fondor wasn’t sucha ponderous fool after all.

Michael of Innes rode down into the valley at the head ofhis reluctant army. No one knew if they would engage the enemy or turn andflee the field. Perhaps the men-at-arms didn’t know themselves. Michael foundair came into his lungs in shallow gasps. If the army would not fight he wouldbe left alone on the field with a handful of loyal men, all of whom would soonbe dead.

I survived the servants of Death , he told himself. Armedmen cannot frighten me . But he was frightened all the same.Frightened of the darkness, of sorcery, of the shadow land that lay just out ofsight of the living.

Down the valley, a terrible battle was being fought. At thisdistance, in the poor light, it was difficult to be sure what went on, but thebattle was moving away from the river, and he was sure that wasn’t a good sign.The Renne were being driven back, slowly, relentlessly, despite having theelement of surprise and superior numbers. In the thick of the battle, what hadat first appeared to be a waving torch, the prince now realized, was a flamingsword, cutting this way and that. Hafydd .

Bodies began to appear on the ground, their limbs twisted,as though they had been thrown down from the sky. Riderless horses gallopedamong the dead, frightened and lost. Little knots of wounded staggered past,bearing each other up, and the clash of arms could be felt now, like blows tothe chest.

Michael raised his sword and glanced to his left, where CarlA’denne did the same. To his right, Pwyll took up their cry, lowering a lance.They spurred their horses forward, and behind he heard their cry echoed. Itseemed to carry him forward, almost lifting him from the saddle. And they wereupon the rear of Hafydd’s army. The Renne line had broken, and they fought inisolated companies, the sky-blue of the Renne surrounded and assailed by eveningblue.

The army of Innes fell upon the forces of evening and thesmall companies of black clad guards. The Prince cut down his first man,throwing him from the saddle, then caused his horse to kick another, the shodhooves snapping a rider’s leg. A black guard appeared before him, and thePrince’s guard divided before him, the fear of Hafydd’s magic clinging even tohis servants.

The rider fell upon the Prince, strong and skilled. Michaelwas driven back, parrying each stroke, the sword almost flung from his hand. Hequickly realized that he’d met a superior swordsman and rider when a secondblack guard appeared and attacked him from the other side. The Prince spun hishorse and slashed this way and that, looking for a chance to flee, for thesetwo would kill him in a moment. But then a horseman of Innes appeared, and oneblack guard was thrown down and trampled. It was Pwyll, Michael realized, asthe knight engaged the second rider, forcing him back, countering every trickthe man used. In a moment the second guard was lying on the ground, bleeding,unable to rise.

“You saved my life, Pwyll,” Michael called out.

“You may not thank me,” Pwyll shouted over the din. Hepointed with his blade. Among the whirling dust and smoke from torches, PrinceMichael saw Hafydd bearing down on them, his sword ablaze. Men fled before him,and a company of black guards rode behind, falling on the fleeing men frombehind, slaying all in their path.

A black guard rode at the Prince and Pwyll, perhapsexpecting them to turn and run, but Pwyll cut the man from his saddle withthree quick strokes, then, using the flat of his blade, he drove the man’shorse back into Hafydd. The two animals collided, and as Hafydd tried tocontrol his mount, Pwyll took out its eye with the point of his blade.

The warhorse stumbled and fell, Hafydd going down in a sheetof flame. The sorcerer’s guards drove desperately toward Pwyll, but Michael anda handful of other riders pressed forward to meet them. Pwyll tried to rideover the fallen Hafydd, but the sorcerer held the horse back with his flamingsword as he staggered up.

Pwyll would have engaged Hafydd, but his horse kept shyingfrom the flames and the presence of the sorcerer. Pwyll finally leapt down andlet the horse run. He strode toward Hafydd with his sword high.

“So there is one man among you,” Hafydd called out. “Too badyou fight for the wrong lord.” The sorcerer raised his blade and in one quickmotion threw flames over Pwyll, setting his surcoat afire.

Hafydd stepped quickly forward to finish the knight, but evenaflame Pwyll raised his own blade and turned the blow aside. He staggered back,then desperately tried to wipe flame away from his face. The sorcerer cameforward again, watching, awaiting a clear opportunity. Pwyll could no longersee and stumbled back, almost falling.

Michael saw Carl A’denne jump from the saddle and go afterPwyll. Michael spun his horse and made it kick, its hind legs lashing out towardHafydd, the flame hidden from its view. Once, twice the horse kicked, and LordCarl tore away Pwyll’s surcoat and led him, running blind, away. Prince Michaelspurred his horse then, out of the reach of Hafydd’s sword.

He rode into the darkness and the chaotic fighting andkilled a Wills man-at-arms who had engaged one of his own riders. It hardlymattered; if no one could face Hafydd, he would carry the day. Already he couldsee men breaking and running. Flame caught in the grass and the trees along thevalley’s edge. A small barn burned not far off, and smoke lay in the valleylike morning fog. He realized then that defeat was certain. It was only amatter of when.

Elise held her blade in the water and pointed. The paddlersturned the boat toward the darkened shore. Tam had no idea where they were. Itseemed like they’d been driving the boat forward for half the night, but withAlaan aboard, that effort could have taken them anywhere. They might not evenbe in the land between the mountains. A wash of gray seeped up from the easternhorizon, staining the sky. Along the near shore, however, night lingered beneaththe trees. A distant din reached them over the waters, and the smell of smokeclung to the air.

“What is that sound?” Fynnol whispered.

“Battle …” A’brgail answered.

“Hafydd is here,” Elise said, her voice empty and lifeless.She took her blade, dripping, from the water, and rose to her feet, staringoff at the shore, not fearfully, but not with hope either.

Alaan pulled his sword from its scabbard and glanced back atthe others. Lifting his paddle inboard, Tam flexed his back and shoulders,trying to work out the knots. The boat came gliding up to the bank, and Elisestepped ashore, Alaan right behind her.

“Baore-please,” Elise said. “Will you guard these children?I will not fail Eber twice.”

Baore did not meet her gaze. “There is a battle, my lady.You will need me.”

“I can’t leave the children unprotected. Take them out intothe river if you must. Please, Baore …?”

“As you wish,” he replied softly.

To the others she said. “Come, any who will. Hafydd is here,and despite brave hearts there are none on the field who can stand against him.”

A narrow band of trees grew at the end of the valley, alongthe bank of the Wynnd. There it was dark, the damp voice of the river clear andsoft, the ground beneath their feet redolent with decay.