Mercedes Lackey - The Price Of Command

His gelding’s hooves thudded on the dry ground in time with his pounding heart. All of the enemy nearby seemed to be engaged, he looked around for a target. He thought he could see a melee to his right; with horses boiling in and out of a cloud of dust, but it was hard to tell if it was just a confused lot of escaped horses or a real engagement—he turned his gelding in that direction anyway—

And a wild arrow shot his horse out from under him. He felt the horse start to go down; tried to save himself, but the poor beast somersaulted over, throwing him from the saddle into a bush.

He fought clear of the branches, and looked around frantically for another set of reins, knowing he had to get up above the foot so he could see what was going on.

There— A white horse galloped out of the dust-cloud and headed straight for him as if he’d called it. He didn’t even stop to marvel at his good luck; he just grabbed for the dangling reins and—looked up.

Met a pair of blue eyes that went on forever, with a jolt like taking a mace to his skull— oh, my—:I am Jasan,: said an imperious voice in the back of his head. :You are Daren. I Choose you. Now get the hell up here on my back before you get killed!:

He didn’t remember doing so, and the next thing he knew, he was up in the saddle, and looking around for some of his own people. His attention was caught by an embattled little group on the edge of the general melee.

“My lord?” someone shouted, and he turned. It was his aide, trying to get his attention. Somehow his own personal guard had managed to catch up with him; he didn’t remember that, either.

He looked back to see if the group still fought. It was fairly obvious that this group held someone important; they were besieged on all sides, and most of the fighters surrounding them kept trying to pull the members of the group from their saddles, rather than trying to kill them.

Centermost was a woman; she was armored, but she’d evidently lost her helm. Her gold hair gleamed incongruously in the sunlight, confined only by —Dear gods. That’s the royal coronet.

She was giving a good account of her herself, slashing at those around her as if she’d been taking lessons in mayhem from his old teacher Tarma. But at those odds, she and her defenders weren’t going to last too long.

Over my dead body. “Come on!” he shouted, and started to drive his spurs into his—

Dear gods —

His Companion launched himself at the Queen’s position before spur could even touch flank.

:Don’t do that. Don’t ever do that. Don’t even think about it.:

The wind of their parsing whipped the words of apology out of his throat, but it didn’t matter; they hit the enemy from behind, with Jasan doing as much fighting as Daren. For the first time Daren had an idea what it was like to have a warsteed.

:Indeed.: Jasan turned a man’s head into red ruin with his forefeet, fastidiously dancing aside to avoid the blood. :A warsteed. I think not.:

:Sorry,: Daren replied weakly, and then he was much too busy to think, much less reply.

Then—there was no one in front of his sword, and nothing under Jasan’s hooves; Selenay was sheathing her sword and looking in his direction with a thousand questions in her eyes. Jasan blew out a breath, and relaxed.

The Companion paced gracefully toward the Queen of Valdemar with his head held high and stopped just close enough for Daren to reach for her hand and kiss it properly—and there was no doubt in Daren’s mind that this was what his Companion expected him to do.

He pushed back the visor of his helm, and wiped the blood from his own right hand, and started to reach—

—and met Selenay’s eyes. Selenay’s bright, blue, eyes. And felt the words freeze on his tongue.

:Hmm,: Jasan said, smugly, in his mind. :See something you like?:

And from the look on the Queen’s face, she was having a similar tongue-tying experience.

Kero rode up beside Geyr, and slapped his arm to get his attention. “Get out there—” she shouted, waving at the lines of Ancar’s fighters, who were now turning tail and running, heading for the east and even casting aside weapons and shields in order to run faster. Already some of the Skybolts, carried away by battle-fever, were spurring their tired horses to follow.

“Sound ‘Assembly’!” she yelled at him “Get those fools back here before they founder!”

Geyr nodded, and cantered his horse after them. Kero sagged in her place, suddenly exhausted. It wasn’t easy, riding a horse without saddle or reins—doing so in battle was doubly hard. She was just as glad now that her cousins had taught her how and drilled her in it till she was ready to drop.

But this had to be the most remarkable beast she’d ever sat; better than any of the Hellsbanes. It was uncanny, the way it had seemed to read her mind and act accordingly. She looked down at the back of the beast’s head, so covered in yellow dust that it was impossible to say what color it was.

“Well, love,” she said, patting his neck. “Hellsbane’s gone to the Star-Eyed’s pastures, but you seem to have been sent by the Shin’a’in Lady herself. Let’s get a look at you.”

She swung her leg over the horse’s shoulder, and slid down to the ground, then turned with one hand on the horse’s shoulder to look into its eyes.

Its—blue—eyes.

And it was not yellow, as she saw when it shook itself and shed the dust in a cloud; it was white. Tall, blue-eyed, and white as the purest of summer clouds.

“Oh, my—” she said weakly, caught in those eyes, as the eyes were caught in her gaze.

:I am Sayvel. You are my—look out!:

But Kero only turned in time to see the mace coming at her too quickly to block—

“ Hydatha’s tits! ” Daren happened to look away from Selenay’s eyes just in time to see the “dead” man leap to his feet, and swing his mace down on Kero’s head.

Jasan reacted faster than he did; before he managed to get out more than a simple “No!” the Companion had twisted around like a weasel and was charging Kero’s attacker at a gallop.

The man saw them coming, but had no chance to do more than raise his arm ineffectually before he was under Jasan’s hooves.

Not just Jasan’s hooves; another Companion shouldered him aside, and began pounding the man into red dust.

Daren jumped off Jasan, with Selenay right behind him and went to his knees beside Kerowyn’s body. He felt under her chin, then her wrist, for a pulse—Dear gods, oh dear gods, she’s not breathing—I can’t feel a pulse —

Then he was shoved aside by a man in filthy, blood-flecked Whites, a man who pounded Kero’s chest, then clamped his mouth over hers to force air into her lungs.

Daren still had Kero’s wrist, when, suddenly, he felt the steady beat beneath his fingers, and she coughed and took a long breath. He got out of the way, as the Herald fumbled with the chin-strap of her helm while Selenay loosened her throat-guard. The other Herald was cursing the helm, and cursing her, and swearing as the tears poured down his face that if she died, he was going to kill her.

Her eyes opened just as the Herald got the helm off, and she looked straight up at him.

“That’s a little extreme, isn’t it, ke’a’char ?” she said mildly, just before her eyes rolled up into her head and she passed out.

Daren decided that this was a good time to go collect Kero’s troops, and take over the mopping-up.

Kero tugged at the hem of her pristine white tunic, and looked out over the grounds of the Herald’s Collegium from her vantage point atop an old observation tower. She scowled as she realized what she was doing, and clasped her hands behind her back. As she did so, her hand brushed Need’s hilt. She left it there for a moment, but there was no sign from the sword. She half expected the blade to demand to be passed to Elspeth when the fighting was all over, but it hadn’t stirred at all since that single moment of recognition.