Диана Дуэйн - The Door Into Shadow

" 'Berend!" Freelorn «houted at her. Segnbora took a moment before answering to look with her sharpened vision at the battlefield. The sight was a shock. More forces were pouring into the valley's mouth from be-hind the Spine — not Reavers, and not Darthenes, certainly. They were falling on the Darthene right flank and crushing it as easily as a stone falling on an egg.

"Damn him!" she cried, and turned away from the hill-crest, running for Steelsheen and the others. The Queen's scrying had been accurate after all. Cillmod had gotten wind of the upcoming battle, and had evidently decided that this was an expeditious time to both

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distract the Darthenes from retalia-tion on his borders and exterminate their fighting force as well. There were none of the Royal Arlene army down there. Such loyal Regulars might have been persuaded to turn against Cillmod since Freelorn was in the field. All these were mercenaries.

Flinging herself into Steelshcen's saddle, Segnbora rode down the trail to clear a path for Freelorn, swearing all the way. It was very obvious now why there were so few unat-tached mercenaries for hire in the Kingdoms. The Darthenes down there were badly outnumbered.

Behind Segnbora, Sunspark was doing some swearing of its own. (What's the matter with him? Did they hurt him somehow?) It danced a little as it cantered down the trail, obviously wanting very badly to let its fire loose. (If he doesn't come out of this shortly, the whole lot of them are going to make a very nice cloud of smoke!)

Freelorn, holding the bleeding Eftgan in front of him on Blackmane, looked as haggard as if he had been shot himself. Remembering Herewiss*s true-dream, the thought made Segnbora's heart turn over. "Firechild," she said, "he's all right, he's just keeping things from getting much worse. For the love of him, save it for later!"

The Power Herewiss was pouring out was astonishing. It frightened Segnbora. She had witnessed great wreakings in the Precincts in which fifty or more Rodniistresses had worked in consort, and all of them together hadn't let out a flood of Fire like this. Khavrinen struck razor-sharp shadows from everything its light touched, and Herewiss's flesh burned transparent as an imminent dawn. Some of the Reavers were turning away from them even now, frightened by the sight of the statue-still rider with the thunderbolt in his hands. One Reaver, though, got up the nerve to fire an arrow. The instant it touched the writhing aura of Flame that wound about Herewiss, it flared and fell away in ashes.

"Can you gallop without dropping him?" Freelorn shouted at Sunspark as they made it down off the Heugh onto the plain again. It bared its teeth at him in scorn. (Gallop! Is that all? Where do' you want him?)

Freelorn looked from west to east, and got a look of sudden recognition on his face. He flung out an arm, pointing. "There!""

East and a little south of the Heugh, one of the spurs of Kerana came down in a little scraped-away scarp, sheer on all sides except for one

shallow approach where riders could go up. It could, be defended, without too much trouble.

(Done!) Sunspark said. It leaped cat-smooth into the air, shooting southeast so fast the air behind it thundered in shock. Freelorn and his band and the Darthenes went after at full

gallop, not sparing the horses. They couldn't: If they didn't make it up that scarp, there would be no later to save them for. They had a mile or so to cover, across snowy ground, and they had hardly been galloping more than a half minute be-fore they lost the sunlight and the clouds closed up again. With unnatural swiftness it began to snow again. The wind rose to a scream once more, and darkness began to fall. It was the darkness Segnbora feared most, for above it and within it the voice of the Shadow could be heard, howling with enmity. On the scarp a mile off, a light shone as if a star had fallen there, bright enough to cast shadows at even this distance. But the brilliance of Herewiss's Fire was no great comfort. A fresh group of Fyrd and Reaver riders were hot behind them, perhaps a half mile back. Eftgan, clutching Blackmane's sad-dle and hanging on as best she could, looked back at their pursuers and moaned softly. Freelorn's face was grim.

"They're catching up, Lorn," Segnbora shouted. The group rode like hunters, whipping their horses into a lather. Onward they rode into the screaming, stinging night. The scarp was right before them, lit with a pillar of blue Fire that flickered eerily on the cloud-bottoms and turned the wind-whipped snow to a blizzard of blue