Диана Дуэйн - The Door Into Shadow

saddle to look at her.
*' 'Berend?" he called anxiously through the screaming wind. Their eyes met.
She saw him. . saw Her. Lang looked no different. His voice still came out in a drawl. She could still underhear his mind lurching back and forth between indecision and placid acceptance. He still hated some things without reason, and loved others unreasonably. He still judged and criticized by provincial standards. He still smelled from not washing enough. . yet he was She, The One. And when Segnbora looked ahead at Herewiss or Eftgan, or back at any of the nameless five hundred following behind, or even at their horses, the result was the same, All &f them, everyone who lives. Every one: the Goddess—
"Lang," she said. It was almost a whisper, for she had little breath to spare' in. the grip of this painful ecstasy, This was the man whom she had used with casual cruelty, to whom she had
refused intimacy when she felt disinclined to it. Yet there within him the Goddess looked out at her — not judging, as She certainly had the right to do, and not angry, either— simply loving her totally, without hesitation. She had always known that the Goddess indwelt io every man and woman, but experiencing it this way, now, was something else again.
Joy, laced with bitterness at her years of callous disregard of the One she loved, rose until it choked her. Tears spilled over and froze on her face in the icy wind. Her voice wouldn't work anymore. Knowing it was useless, and driven by an overwhelming need to communicate somehow, she bespoke him. (Lang!)
He stared at her in sheer disbelief. "'* 'Berend?" He had heard her! The pain fell away from her joy like a cast-off cloak. Segn-bora sobbed, sagging in her saddle, and drew in a long breath. She had a great deal to tell him. (Loved—)

It took two more hours to complete the rest of the ride down. The slope grew gradually less steep, and the ledges a bit wider, but the snow continued. Lang was not the only rider who was lost. Just minutes after his death, another horse and rider came plummeting down past Segnbora. The falling rider's glance locked with Segnbora 1 s in the second of her passing. Still weeping, Segnbora could do nothing but pour herself into the look, see Who was falling, and aid Her in accepting what was happening. In that second, the woman's fear-twisted face calmed. Then she was gone. Segnbora rode on, trembling. She turned a switchback and suddenly found herself at the top of a long skirt of scree and rough stones, which lead down to a slope carpeted in snow-covered grass. Glancing at the sky, Segnbora knew the storm wasn't going to let up. In front of her, Eftgan was checking her saddlebags to make sure the Regalia were safe. Herewiss had drawn Khavrinen and was pointing at the snow. There were prints in it: the big splayed tracks of a horwolf, and a keplian's pad-and-claw set. Both trails were only minutes old. Both led to the cliffs foot and away again, westward.
"We're expected," Herewiss said. "I'm done with being circumspect, Queen." Fire flowed down Khavrinen's blade in defiant brilliance. "We've got to stay alive. Meantime, we had better get to the Heugh fast. The Bindings are slipping from the pressure of so many beings in this area."
Eftgan nodded. ""Can you shore up the Bindings until we complete the ritual?"
"I can," Herewiss said. "I've been doing it for several hours. But its* tiring. How long I can hold out, I've no idea." "Once we begin, the blood-binding won't take long," Eft-gan reassured him. Thumping Scoundrel's sides, she wheeled westward. "The ground between here and the Heugh is smooth. Let's 'make time." They had to go slowly at first, so that the Darthene riders
still on the slope would have time to catch up. It was about fifteen minutes into this process thai the first cohort of Fyrd found them. There were only twenty or thirty: horwolves and keplian who had been patrolling the heights and thought it wise to attack before the main force was down off the Fell. It was a mistake. Like lightning dancing a death-dance, Khavrinen rose and fell in the forefront of the skirmish. What its blade didn't slay, Herewiss's Fire did. Sunspark was in-censed; any Fyrd at which it looked became ashes in seconds, F6rlennh and Suthan flickered red and blue in Firelight and flamelight. Segnbora swept Skadhwe's blackness about her in an utter calm that felt very strange. Shortly, nothing moved but Darthenes and the wind. Drifts began forming around the bodies in the snow. The Darthenes had a few wounded, none seriously, and none lost — a small miracle for which everyone was thankful. "What's the time?" Freelorn said.
"Three hours past noon.*' Eftgan looked around and saw the last of her riders corning down off Britfell. " Wyn will be moving the forces forward at four. Let's get up that Heugh." It was only a mile to Lionheugh, but they bought every furlong of the distance dearly. The fourth cohort of Fyrd was the biggest, some three hundred of the creatures. There were not many nadders, because of the coldness of the weather, There were, unfortunately, many maws and keplian, the worst Fyrd breeds for riders to handle. There were also four death-jaws, three of which Herewiss dealt with, and one of which Eftgan destroyed with an astonishing blast of blue Fire. By the time this attack was over, no one was quite as lively as they had been. Nearly everyone had a, wound of one type or another.
Eftgan and Freelorn were unhurt, but Herewiss had a long set of slashes from, a keplian *s claws, and Mods and Dritt and Harald all had maw bites. But no Fyrd had been allowed to get away and warn others of what had happened. "You and I were lucky," Freelorn said to Eftgan. "Luck has nothing to do with it. If our blood falls on this land and we have the brains to do a binding right away, that One would lose a great deal of its Power." Eftgan. whipped blood off Forlennh. "Herewiss?"
He was sitting astride Sunspark with a look on his face that was either annoyance or strain. Khavrinen in his hand was flaring with a wild glory of Fire as he healed himself. "It's putting on pressure," he said. "Things are trying to return to the way they were before the Binding, and this Fyrd blood isn't helping matters."
"Let's go. 'Berend?" She glanced at Segnbora as they began to move through the blinding snow. "You all right?"
"Fine." Segnbora held Skadhwe over her knee at the ready. "You always used to be so noisy in battles! I keep looking around to see if something got you."
"My lodgers are doing my hollering for me," she said. The Dragons didn't care for Fyrd, and her mdeihei had been sing-ing martial musics laced with Dragonfire ever since she came down from Britfell. Battlecries seemed superfluous with that inner thunder going on. Eftgan met her glance with an odd expression, as if seeing some stranger who was Segnbora's twin. " 'Berend, you've become more than your lodgers, somehow. What happened up there?"
It was a poor time to explain. "I'm not sure," Segnbora said. "Nothing of the Dark One's doing, that's certain." She knew it to be true as she said it.
If there was anything the Shadow didn't want mortals to know, it was what Segnbora had learned. Once one knew Who one was, It lost Its power over that person. She shook her head and kicked Steels been into a gallop, getting Skadhwe ready. The realizations were coming too close together. The hugeness of them was dazzling her. She needed something concrete upon, which to fasten her mind. . Unfortunately, she got it. To their right, the crest of Britfell had been getting lower as they headed west. With little warn-ing the fell simply stopped in a sheer cliff. Out of the falling snow their destination loomed: Lionheugh.
To the west, not even the snow could muffle a great con-fused roaring — shouts and battlecries, the bray of Reaver war-horns and the thin silver cries of trumpets. As they drew rein under the shadow of the Heugh, Eftgan waved Torve over, putting up Forlennh and unsheathing her Rod.
"Leave me fifty," she said. "Take the rest and hit them hard wherever it seems best. My compliments to my Consort when you see him, and tell Wyn I'm sorry we're late, but we were detained. Ride!"
"Madam!" Torve said, and rode offhard with four hundred fifty of the Darthene cavalry behind him. The snow swallowed them. Freelorn rode up to join the Queen, with Moris and Dritt and Harald close behind.
"I have to do something about this weather, even if it's only temporary," said Eftgan, shaking the Fire down her Rod. "Then we'll do our business. Herewiss, how are you doing?" He was holding Khavrinen before him in both hands, his eyes fixed on it. A frightening brilliance of Fire streamed about man and sword. "I'll hold/' he said, but there was strain in his voice, and the feeling of malicious intent in the air hung closer than it had before. "The Shadow's pressing, though. There's much bloodshed going on and It's feeding on that. I daren't be distracted long—" "Up with us," Eftgan said.
Punching Scoundrel, she rode at a gallop up the path to the Heugh. No one was surprised by the Fyrd, waiting for them there. They dropped from rocks and leaped up under the horses' hooves. Eftgan's Rod crackled with Fire as she laid it about her like a whip. Whatever she struck didn't move again. Segnbora and Freelorn galloped behind her, watching the Queen's back, slicing down with Skadhwe and