Authors: Katharine Kerr
“They know we’re here,” Rhodry said to him finally. “Don’t trouble yourself about it. But there can’t be a lot of them or they’d have rushed us already.” He pointed across the river. “Look.”
In among the trees at the far side of the clearing on the opposite bank someone or something was moving to follow them, some three or maybe four shapes, roughly man-shaped, that slipped along when they moved and stopped again when they halted.
“Otho,” Rhodry said. “You and Nedd take Carra into the trees. We won’t fool them, but maybe—”
Carra never learned what he intended. Pressed beyond canine endurance, Thunder suddenly began to bark, then bounded away and raced straight for the river before Nedd could grab him. Just as he burst free of the trees something flashed and hissed in the air: an arrow. Carra flung herself on Lightning to hold him back and screamed as the arrow struck Thunder in the side. Another followed, another, catching him, throwing him to the ground—pinning him to the ground, but still alive he writhed and howled in agony. The horses began to dance and toss their heads in terror. Dead-silent as always Nedd ran.
“Don’t!” Rhodry and Yraen screamed it together.
Too late. Nedd reached the dog, flung himself down beside the dying Thunder just as another flight came hissing down, bright death catching the fading sunlight. He never screamed, merely jerked this way and that while the long shafts struck until at last he and Thunder both lay still, the dog cradled in his arms, in the middle of a spreading pool of blood. Carra felt herself sobbing and choking, but in an oddly distant way, as if she stood beside herself and watched this girl named Carra howl and retch until she could barely breathe. Just as distantly she was aware of horses neighing and men cursing and shouting, then the sound of some large animal crashing through the under-brush.
All at once Otho grabbed her by the shoulder with one hand and Lightning’s collar by the other.
“Move!” he howled. “Run, lass!”
For such a small man he was terrifyingly strong. Half dragged, half stumbling, Carra got herself and the dog into the hollow among the rocks and fell, half spraddled across the whining, growling Lightning. Otho threw himself down beside her. He was cursing a steady stream in some language she’d never heard before.
“Rhodry, Yraen?” she gasped out.
“Right here.” Rhodry hunkered down beside her. “Hush, lass. They won’t come for us here.”
Her tears stopped of their own accord, leaving her face sticky and filthy both. She wiped it best she could on her equally filthy sleeve, then looked around her. In that last panicked dash they had reached the cluster of boulders and what shelter they were going to find. The river ran too deep to cross some yards off to the north; the forest grew thick and tangled to the south; the rocks rose up and melded with a cliff to the west behind them. Ahead and east, they had a clear view of the ford, some distance away, and the dark shape sprawled in the gathering shadows that had once been Nedd and Thunder.
“They can’t get round back here without the dog letting us know.” It was Yraen, sliding down the rocks behind them. “And they won’t get a clear aim to skewer us in here, and we can see them coming if they rush us. Couldn’t have been more than ten of them, Rhodry. If they try to squirm in here, on this broken ground, we’ll drop them easy.”
“True spoken. Think we can hold off a small army? We might have to. Ill wager they’re on their way to fetch a few friends.”
“Or one or two of them are. I’d say they left a squad behind, some archers, too, in case we take it into our heads, like, to try to cross the river. Huh. Told you there was somewhat wrong with that cursed ford, didn’t I?”
“Did I argue with you?”
By then Carra was too spent to be frightened. She leaned back against a rock and looked straight in front of her with eyes that barely saw.
“Is there any water?” she whispered.
“There’s not,” Otho said. “Nor food, either. The horses bolted.”
“Ah, I see. We’re still going to die, aren’t we?”
No one said a word.
“I only mind because of the baby, really.” She needed, suddenly, to make them understand. “It seems so unfair to the poor little thing. It never had a chance to live and now it’s going to die. I mean, when it comes to me, I might have died in childbirth anyway, and this is still better than Lord Scraev, but—”
“Hush, my lady!” The words sounded as if someone were tearing them out of Otho under torture. “Ah, ye gods! Forgive me, that ever I should let this happen to you!”
“It’s not as if you had any choice in the matter.” Carra laid a hand on his arm.
She was shocked to see tears in his eyes. He wiped them vigorously with both hands before he went on.
“As soon as it’s dark, I’m going to try creeping through the forest a ways. We can move quiet when we want to, my people. The way those horses were tearing through the brush, a saddlebag or two might have gotten itself pulled free.”
“And if there’s someone out there?” Yraen said. “Waiting for one of us to try just that?”
Otho merely shrugged. Rhodry was examining the leather pouch he carried at his belt.
“This should hold a little water.” He dumped the coins in a long jingle onto the ground. “I think I can reach the river and get back again. I hate to think of our lady going thirsty.”
“I’ll do it.” Otho snatched the pouch from him, “You need to be here. Just in case, like.”
In the gathering dusk Otho slipped off, moving silent and surefooted around the rocks. In a few moments, though, they heard him chuckle.
“My lady, come here,” he called. “I think you can squeeze through, and there’s a nice little stream, there is. Bring the dog, too.”
Sure enough, by sliding and cramming herself between two massive boulders, Carra popped out into a flattish opening big enough for her to crouch and Otho to stand
upright, where a trickle of water ran down one rock, pooled, then disappeared under an overhang in the general direction of the river. She flung herself down and drank as greedily as the dog beside her, then washed her face. Otho was looking round with a grin of triumph on his face.
“When they come for us, my lady, you can hide in here. We’ll draw them off, down toward the ford, say. Once all the shouting’s over, you’ll have a chance to make your way north to the gwerbret. Not much of a chance, but better than none. If we tie that blasted dog’s mouth shut, we can hide him, too, and you’ll have company, like, on your journey. I’ll die easier, knowing that. Think of the child, my lady. It’ll keep you strong.”
“I am. It’s worth a try, isn’t it?”
Yet with the hope fear returned and a grief sharper than any she’d ever known. Otho, Yraen, Rhodry—all dead for her sake? As Nedd already was. Lightning whined, pushing into her lap, reaching up to lick her face and whimper over and over again. She threw her arms around his neck and would have cried, but all her tears were spent.
“Come now, lass, come now.” Otho’s voice was very soft. “I was only going home to die, anyway, and Rhodry loves death more than he ever loved life, and well, I’m sorry for Yraen, not that you’d best ever tell him that, but then, he made his choice when he took to the long road, and who can argue with Wyrd, anyway, eh? Come now, hush. We’ll take them some water and tell them what we’ve found.”
By then a gibbous moon was rising, silvering the river, picking out Nedd’s body and the gleam of arrows lying on the grass. Although Carra wished with all her heart that they could bury him and Thunder, too, it seemed too trivial to mention to men who would doubtless lie dead and unburied themselves in the morning. She sat with her back to one of the boulders and stared fixedly in the opposite direction while Otho went back and forth fetching pouches of water for the two silver daggers. All at once she realized that her body had a thing or two that needed attending to, and urgently. Ever since she’d gotten pregnant, it seemed, when she needed to relieve herself there was simply no arguing about it. She got up and slipped away, keeping to the safe shelter of the boulders and broken terrain, to find a private spot.
When she was done she walked a few steps toward the forest and stood looking into the silver-touched shadows. For miles and miles the trees stretched, hiding enemies, maybe, or maybe promising safety. She wondered how far away the rest of the bandits were, and how fast their advance scouts would reach them. They won’t attack till dawn, she thought. We’ve got that long. Out in the shadows something moved. Her heart thudded, stuck cold in her chest; her hands clenched so hard her nails dug into her palms. It seemed that a bird, a strange silvery bird with enormous wings, dropped from the sky and settled deep among the trees.
A trick of moonlight—it had to be a thrown shadow and naught more—but a branch rustled, a tree shivered. Something snapped and stamped. Carra wanted to run, knew she should run, tried to call out, but she was frozen there, ice-cold and stone-still, as something—no, someone—made its way, made his way through the trees—no, her way. A silver-haired woman, wearing men’s clothing but too graceful and slender to be a man, stepped out into the clearing. She carried a rough cloth sack in one hand, and at her belt gleamed the pommel of a silver dagger.
“I’m a friend. Where’s Rhodry?”
Carra could only raise a hand and gesture mutely toward the boulders. As she led the way back, she could hear the woman following, but she was afraid to turn round and look behind lest the woman disappear. All Rhodry’s talk of shape-changers rushed back to her mind and hovered like a bird, half-seen in moonlight.
In among the broken rocks they found the men sitting in a circle, heads together, talking in low voices about the coming battle, if one could call it that. Carra suddenly realized that she could see them clearly, could pick out the expressions on their faces as they looked up startled. Only then did she realize that the woman gave off a faint silver light, hovering round her like scent.
“Jill!” Rhodry leapt to his feet and stepped back as if in fear. “Jill. I—ye gods! Jill!”
“That’s the name my father gave me, sure enough. Come along, all of you! We’ve got to get out of here and right now.”
“But those guards, they’ve got archers…” Yraen let his voice trail away.
“Who no longer matter at all.” Jill glanced Otho’s way. “Hurry! Get up!”
Lightning sprang up at the command and Otho followed more slowly, grumbling to himself.
“Good.” Jill glanced her way. “You’ve got guts, lass. You
are
Carramaena, aren’t you?”
“I am. But how did—”
“Someone told me. No time to explain. Let’s get out of here. I can’t deal with a whole pack of raiders, and they’re on their way. Rhodry, get up here with me. Yraen, take the rear guard with Carra. Otho, keep a hand on that dog’s collar, will you? I don’t want him bolting.”
As they picked their way through the broken rocks and headed downstream toward the ford, Jill pulled a little ahead. Carra could see her looking around, frowning every now and then and biting her lower lip as a person will when they’re trying to remember something. Daft though this exercise seemed, Carra could pay no attention, because they were walking straight toward the ford where Nedd and Thunder lay. She could hear Lightning whining and Otho’s reassuring whisper, and she clung to the sound as if to someone’s hand. When they reached the bodies, she turned her head away and stared across the river. Something was moving among the trees. Even in the poor light she—they all—could see the underbrush shaking at the approach of someone or something.
“Keep walking,” Jill snapped. “You have to trust me. Keep walking straight ahead.”
No one hesitated, everyone moved, striding forward even though Carra suspected that they were all waiting for the hiss of an arrow, flying them their deaths. They walked a few feet, and a few more, and on and on, until Carra suddenly realized that they should have been wading right into the water instead of walking on dry land. All around her trees towered. The men began to swear in a string of foul curses.
“By every god!” Yraen snarled. “How did you manage that?”
“None of your cursed affair, silver dagger,” Otho broke in. “We’re across, aren’t we? That’s all that matters, and I
for one am not going to be flapping my lips at a dweomerwoman.”
Only then did Carra realize that the river lay behind them—far behind them, out of sight, in fact. All she could hear was the merest rustle and murmur of distant water flowing over rock.
“Our friends can wait in ambuscade all they like,” Jill remarked. “And poke around in the rocks as if they were hunting badgers, too, when the dawn rises, but we’d best be on our way.”
Carra turned for one last look back.
“Farewell, Nedd, and it aches my heart to lose you. I only wish I could build you a cairn.”
“Nicely spoken.” Rhodry laid a comforting hand on her shoulder. “But truly, I doubt me if it matters to his soul, and the gods all know that we might be seeing him in the Otherlands soon enough.”
With Jill hissing at them to hurry, they headed into the forest, picking their way along a deer track that ran east and downstream. In the middle of the line of march Carra stumbled along, shivering and exhausted, praying to the Goddess every now and then to keep the unborn baby safe, for what seemed like hours, though when they finally stopped she realized that the moon was still riding close to zenith. There in a clearing stood all their horses, their gear still intact, even Nedd’s.
“How did you…” Rhodry said.
“The Wildfolk collected them,” Jill interrupted him with a wave of her hand. “And brought them round by the other ford.”
Carra giggled, thinking she was having a jest on them.
“And how did you find us?” Rhodry went on.
“There’s no time for talk now. Listen, you’re going to have to ride as fast as these poor beasts can carry you. I can’t just take you to the city, because of the way time would run all wrong. You need to arrive straightaway, not weeks from now, you see.”
Carra didn’t see, and she was willing to wager that none of the others did, either, but oddly enough, not one question got itself asked.
“Follow the river back to the road, and then make all the speed you can,” Jill went on. “The forest peters out about
ten miles north of the river, and then you come to farming country, and finally to the gwerbret’s town. I wish to all the gods that you’d been coming from the east. You’d have been safe, then—it’s settled country all the way.”