Katharine Kerr - Darkspell

Below, the camp turned into a swirl of dust and clamor, men shouting, running for horses, fighting desperately on foot as Dannyn’s charge swept over them. Even if Gweniver broke orders, Ricyn reflected, there wasn’t much of a way they could join in the unequal fight, because Dannyn’s men covered the field like a breaking wave. Just then the dun gates opened and Cavydd’s men slammed into the besiegers from the rear. The shouting rang out as the mob plunged back and forth, horses rearing, swords flashing. Gweniver smiled so brightly as she watched that Ricyn was suddenly frightened of her.

With war cries that were closer to screams of terror, one little clot of Eldidd men broke free from the melee and in their panic fled straight toward the reserve. Ricyn had just time to draw his sword before Gweniver howled out a challenge and spurred her horse straight for them. With a shout he went after her. Although he heard the men following him, he kept his eyes on her as she plunged into the middle of the desperate mob.

“Ah, shit!” He spurred his horse hard.

He saw her blade flash up bloody, and a man fall from his saddle, but there were three others round her. Howling a war cry, he charged the mob from the rear. He swung hard, slashing back and forth as if he were beating hounds off a deer with a whip. Off to his right, Ricyn saw Dagwyn make a kill; then an Eldidd man pulled his horse round to face him. Ricyn stabbed in, getting him so hard that he shattered the fellow’s mail and killed him clean. When he pulled the sword free, the dead man rolled off his horse and under the hooves of Ricyn’s mount, which reared. As it came down, he heard Gweniver laughing, howling, shrieking like a fiend, and he saw that she’d made another kill. At that moment the Wolf riders appeared all round them. The fight was over.

As merry as if she’d just heard a splendid jest, Gweniver trotted up to him.

“I got two,” she announced, crowing over it. “What’s so wrong, Ricco? You look frightened or suchlike.”

“Ye gods! The next time you ride into hopeless odds, at least take me with you! You little dolt! I never thought I’d see you alive again. I mean … well, uh … my lady.”

“I knew you’d have the sense to follow, and you did, didn’t you?”

The warband clustered round to stare at her in awe.

“Look at that,” Dagwyn said. “Her horse doesn’t even have a scratch on him.”

The men whispered among themselves, a superstitious ripple that was as much fear as awe.

“It was the Goddess,” she said. “She rode with me.”

In a flurry of whispered oaths, the men edged their horses back—but only a little way, because her god-touched power seemed to spread warmth like a fire. Ricyn had never seen a smile like hers, as tight and cold as if it were a smile carved on the face of a statue of a god. Yet at a familiar shout from behind them, her smile disappeared. The men parted to let Lord Dannyn through to the lady’s side.

“So your men saw a bit of sport, did they?” he said. “Did you lead that charge, Ricco? I hope to all the hells that she had the sense to stay out of it!”

The entire warband wheeled around, eyes flashing in rage, and mobbed him. When Dannyn’s hand went to his sword hilt, Ricyn drew.

“Get back!” Gweniver yelled. “Leave him be!”

Swearing under their breaths, they edged their horses back, except for Ricyn, who rode up to the lord’s side and made him a half bow, though his sword was still in hand.

“His lordship forgets that he speaks to a priestess. Me and my men most humbly beg that his lordship remember it from now on. My lady led that charge, my lord. We all saw her hold off four men before we reached her, and she killed two of them.”

White-faced, Dannyn swung Gweniver’s way.

“I wasn’t truly riding at your orders,” she said. “You may quibble with the Moon over questions of command if you wish. And as for you, Ricco, you fought like a fiend from hell yourself. I swear you’re half-a-berserker.”

When he realized that she spoke the truth, Ricyn felt caught by feelings he couldn’t sort out. He’d never been that kind of fighter before, preferring to mark his man well and pay strict attention to the strategy of things. It seemed to him that her Goddess had reached out and laid Her hands upon him, and he shuddered, suddenly cold.

A slender blond, as much of a grown boy as a man, Tieryn Cavydd laughed more than he talked, half-hysterical with his unexpected rescue. Over a hasty meal in his great hall, he told Gweniver and Dannyn the story at his table of honor, while the Cerrmor army sat on the floor for want of enough benches. His pregnant young wife sat beside him and listened, her food untouched before her.

“I’ve never known them to be so blasted bold,” Cavydd said. “We always have raids, well, you know that, but never this many. By the Lord of Hell, there were three hundred of them at my gates, at least, maybe four, and all at once. Then they left part of the army to keep me pinned and rode off. I was sure as sure they were heading for Morlyn, but if I’d sallied with only fifty men, we never would have lived to reach the town. I’ve been praying that some of my allies would get wind of it and come relieve me.”

“They’ve doubtless got their hands full,” Dannyn said. “Well, we’ll be riding north after them tomorrow.”

“I’ll have to leave men behind on fort guard, but I’ll ride with you myself, of course.”

“Not necessary and most unwise. They might swing back here to pick up the men they left on siege. I’ll leave fifty men to reinforce you.”

“It’s not going to be me and my warband,” Gweniver broke in. “Lord Dannyn may banish the idea from his mind.”

When he turned her way with an icy stare, Gweniver smiled, remembering the way her men had mobbed him on the field. Dannyn seemed to remember it as well.

“As my lady wishes,” he said. “Well, this bodes ill, Your Grace. Looks like Eldidd’s planning on pushing the western border hard from now on.”

The wife rose and fled the hall.

“How far away are your nearest vassals?” Dannyn remarked.

“Fifteen miles north, and then there’s another one sixteen miles to the west—or should I say, there was. Who knows if his dun still stands?”

When Dannyn swore aloud, Cavydd’s mouth twisted in what might have been a smile.

“When you return to court,” he said levelly, “tell our liege somewhat for me, will you? I don’t know how much longer we can hold out. When you ride north, my lord, look around you. Once there were demesnes all the way between here and the Eldidd border, all the way north along the Aver Vic. Just look round and see how many Deverry lords are left.”

“I have no doubt our liege will remedy the situation.”

“He’d better. I swore I’d die for our king, and I will if it comes to that, but there are some who are ready enough to make their peace with Eldidd if it’ll put a stop to these raids.”

Dannyn slammed both hands palms down on the table and leaned forward.

“Then let me tell you somewhat,” he growled. “If anyone turns traitor, then he’ll have me and my men raiding his lands. Ask your grumbling friends which would be worse.”

He swung himself free of the bench, turned on his heel, and stalked off without another word. Cavydd sighed and picked up his tankard of ale.

“Do you know Dannyn well, Lady Gweniver?” he said.

“Not truly, Your Grace. I’ve never met him before this spring.”

“Then you have a very interesting time ahead of you.”

On the morrow the army rode north through deserted farms, stripped of food, that were as good as the tracks in the road for tracing the Eldidd raiders. At sunset they came to a village burnt to the ground. A tangle of charred timbers, still smoking, lay among black trees and a tumble of cracked stone from the village well.