Fyngie, she thought in concern, breaking free of her daze. Wheeling Ysandre around, she kicked her horse into a canter, veering to avoid a knot of men locked in combat. A musician on horseback came galloping right at her as though he meant to run her down. At the last moment he reined up, his horse sliding on the muddy bank and nearly pitching him off before galloping on.
Lea kicked her reluctant horse forward, forcing him through the increasing confusion. She looked everywhere for her ladies, but did not see them.
Another stern shout in Cubrian rose over the noise. Lea saw a volley of arrows arc southward into the sky, making a strange whiffling noise as they flew. And when the arrows hit attackers at the column rear, cries of death and agony went up. Already, another volley from the longbows was firing death into the air.
But Lea had no time to marvel at this new method of combat. She pressed on, forcing herself not to shrink away from the brutal emotions and violence as she called over and over for Rinthella, Vineena, and Fyngie. Again she heard a woman scream. Looking in that direction, she saw Fyngie being dragged from her saddle by a pair of laughing men. The girl was pushed back and forth between them until her cloak was ripped off and her light brown hair fell from its pins and streamed across her shoulders.
Horrified, Lea screamed, “Fyngie!”
“You can’t help her!” Rinthella ran out of the chaos to grasp Lea’s stirrup. Her cloak was torn, and her skirts smeared with mud. She was clutching something unseen in one white-knuckled fist. “Where’s your protector?”
“Where’s Vineena?”
“Don’t know! Where’s your protector?”
There was no time to answer more questions. Lea kicked her foot from its stirrup and reached down her left hand. “Hurry!” she said. “Climb on behind me.”
Rinthella needed no urging. She gripped Lea’s hand and sprang up, scrambling fast to settle herself, pillion style, behind the saddle, and encircled Lea’s waist with her arms.
“Let’s get out of here!” she shouted.
Determined to help Fyngie, Lea instead turned her horse in that direction despite Rinthella’s protests. At that moment, Fyngie fell limp in her captors’ rough hands, and they tossed her to the ground.
“No!” Lea cried out.
A cavalryman, on foot, backed into Ysandre’s side, making the horse shy. His foe lunged forward and Lea saw the tip of a sword project from the cavalryman’s back before it was yanked out. The cavalryman fell, rolling over almost under Ysandre’s hooves, and the attacker ran at Lea, gripping the long sweep of her skirts and yanking so hard that she nearly went tumbling to the ground.
Rinthella hung on to her, and Lea braced herself, kicking at the man in an effort to break free. As she struggled, a corner of her mind was registering the fact that he wore army-issued armor, the old-fashioned kind of steel breastplate and studded leather straps to protect hips and shoulders. With helmet and short, straight sword, he looked like anything but a bandit. Renegades from some legion, she told herself, even as she reined Ysandre back, making the gelding rear.
There came a rip of cloth, and her attacker lost his hold on her skirts. Overbalanced, he stumbled back. Lea kicked Ysandre hard, sending the horse plunging right into the man and knocking him aside. He went spinning into the path of other fighters, and was stabbed by a blood-streaked Crimson.
Lea didn’t look back. Ysandre was spooked now, fighting his bit, wanting to bolt. She gave the horse his head, urging him faster and bending low over his whipping mane while Rinthella clung grimly to her back.
“To the bridge!” Rinthella yelled in her ear. “Hurry!”
Thinking her attendant mad for wanting to use the derelict bridge, Lea didn’t bother arguing. Instead, she steered Ysandre directly toward the stream, although the horse broke stride to sling his head and fight her.
A man yelled right behind them. Glancing back, Lea saw him leaping at Ysandre’s hindquarters as though he meant to jump astride the horse with them.
She kicked her horse hard in the ribs, and Ysandre shot down the bank and plunged across the water in three great bounds that splashed her boots and the hem of her skirts. Up the opposite bank at an angle they went, Ysandre’s hindquarters thrusting hard. They scrambled to the top, and the horse stumbled, nearly pitching Lea forward.
She caught herself just in time to avoid a fall, and was grateful when Ysandre halted, pawing the ground and tossing his head, his flanks heaving. Shoving back her loosened hair and gasping for breath, Lea looked back to see how the battle was going. All she saw was brutal chaos and men dying.
And two of their attackers were coming for her, crossing the stream on foot, their sweaty faces blood-splattered and grim.
“Hurry!” Rinthella said. “They’ll tear us to pieces if they catch us!”
Lea urged Ysandre onward, heading for the ruins. Her heart was crying out in despair, but she refused to think about anything other than following Thirbe’s orders.
The water spirit’s warning flashed through her mind: Beware, beware, beware. She’d misunderstood it, and now…
Snorting, her gelding dodged around a pile of rubble, stumbling over stones hidden in the tall grass. Lea reined him to a more prudent pace, despite Rinthella’s scream for her to go faster.
Desperately Lea looked for somewhere to hide among the broken foundations and short remnants of walls. But unless she dismounted and crawled beneath fallen timbers leaning precariously like spillikins thrown down by a giant’s child, she saw nothing that would serve.
“Go on,” Rinthella urged her. “Oh, hurry, my lady. Hurry!”
“We can stay ahead of those men,” Lea said. “Stop wailing and help me find somewhere to hide.”
“No,” Rinthella gasped. “Don’t stop. Keep going. You must keep going.”
“Where?” Lea asked in exasperation, resisting the urge to look back again. “Do you see Thirbe coming yet?”
“No.” Rinthella moaned with fear. “There are more men crossing the stream and coming after us. In Gault’s name, let us run!”
“If this horse breaks a leg, we’re lost,” Lea said. “Perhaps that old barn at the end of the field…”
“They’ll see us, no matter where we go,” Rinthella said, almost sobbing.
Lea was already aware of that, but she was almost desperate enough to clutch at any straw. Where was Thirbe? she wondered. Without him…
She squelched that thought, reminding herself that she wasn’t helpless. If necessary, she would call on the element spirits. Meanwhile, she was going to get out of these ruins, where the malevolent quai hanging over them was nearly smothering her with fears and doubts, and head for the woods beyond the fields.
Turning Ysandre onto a narrow but fairly clear path through the rubble—perhaps it had once been a street—she dared quicken him to a controlled canter and glanced back in hopes of seeing Thirbe.
The men Rinthella had mentioned were following her, running easily along, as yet too far back to be a threat. Lea frowned at them, however. There was something about their pursuit that puzzled her. They didn’t seem to be trying to catch her at all now, just keeping her in sight, or…driving her in a certain direction?
Alarm pierced her, but just then she heard the sound of galloping hoofbeats from the north and smiled in relief. “Thirbe!”
“It’s not!” Rinthella said. “Great Gault, we must run!”
Lea saw a rider clad in legion armor and helmet, his tunic edge the color of fresh blood, a bare sword bright in his hand. Holding his reins in his teeth and carrying a whip in his left hand, he raced toward her, his big, scarred warhorse eating up ground with every stride. The man was close enough now for Lea to see the snarl on his brutish face and lethal intent in every line of his body.
Her pursuers on foot cheered him on.
Rinthella’s fingers dug into Lea’s shoulders as she uttered an animal-like cry of despair.
Lea’s own heart was jerking in fear. She could barely breathe, and it seeme
d impossible to move. But it was stupid to sit there frozen, no matter how small their chances had become, and Lea had no intention of giving up. With Rinthella sobbing into the back of her neck, she turned Ysandre and kicked him into a reckless gallop, praying he would not step into a hole and snap a fetlock on this hazardous ground. There was no more time to be prudent.
She forgot her intention of heading for the woods. They were too far away, and her pursuer’s larger horse continued to gain steadily on Ysandre. She headed instead across the fields toward the barn, kicking Ysandre every time he slowed, wishing Hervan hadn’t tied her reins together so she could lash her tiring horse with them. She knew she had no hope of reaching the barn, much less of hiding inside it, but she aimed Ysandre for it anyway. Her plan was to get far enough ahead, far enough to gain just a few extra moments.
The slender gelding gave her his heart and gamely galloped on, although she could hear him groaning now as he ran. Tears for him ran down her cheeks, but she did not let him slow. Curling her fingers around her necklace, she drew on the power of her gli-emeralds and sought the air spirits. It was hard to concentrate with fear thrumming through her, but she did her best, calling for more snow.
The flakes grew larger, fell faster. Suddenly the snowfall was so fierce and heavy that she could barely see where she was going. She squinted against the sting of driving snow on her face and still would not let the snorting Ysandre slow down. Her slender hope was that his pale coat would blend with the snowfall, allowing her to elude this pursuer.
Ysandre stumbled, snorting, and slowed to a jolting trot despite her kicks.
“We’re leaving tracks!” Rinthella said in warning.
Lea hissed in annoyance. She’d forgotten that detail. Again she reached for her necklace and this time drew on the earth spirits, calling for them to melt the snow as it hit the ground. The white accumulation turned to slush, then mud. Ysandre slipped and slowed his gait further.
Praying her simple little plan would work, Lea shoved away her doubts and tried to keep her bearings in the tiny blizzard now blanking out the field and the rickety old barn beyond it. No longer did she hear hooves galloping behind her. Perhaps, she thought, hardly daring to hope…Perhaps…
A black horse with flaring red nostrils loomed suddenly on her right, cutting her off by rearing up right in front of her.
Ysandre shied back. His hind foot slipped on the wet ground, pitching Lea halfway from the saddle onto his neck. She clung hard to his pale mane, panting with fear, and looked up at a warrior such as she’d never seen before.
He was something from a nightmare, towering above her on the tall black horse. A helmet and jaw guard of steel obscured his face. His cloak was black, flaring out behind him like a cloud of the shadow god. So was his armor black, and his sword. Jagged steel spikes projected from the points of his shoulders, his elbows, and his knees. Through the slits of his visor, his eyes blazed a fiery red, like flames.
Transfixed by the sudden appearance of what seemed to be more demon than man, Lea made the mistake of meeting his gaze, just for the briefest moment.
The world dipped and swirled around her, as though she were slipping between, and she saw him only as a shadow, empty of any living light, as bleak and black and horrible as Beloth’s spawn. He loomed even larger, seeming to grow as she shrank, and then her vision faded abruptly.
She blinked, finding herself still in the saddle, snow blowing cold and cruel in her face while Rinthella screamed and screamed. Although the snow had cleared her mind of the bad jaiethquai she’d encountered earlier, it availed her not at all now. Whatever this man or creature was, wherever he came from, it was not of this place, and her talents were no match for the magic he was using against her.
It was as though an enormous, invisible hand began to squeeze the air from her lungs. She fought to breathe, struggling to control her terrified horse, struggling not to faint, while she tried to reach for her necklace.
“Spirits of…”
Her plea for help faded in her throat, unspoken. She could not lift her hand high enough. Her fingertips barely touched the necklace before her hand dropped slackly to her side. Black speckles danced in her vision, and her ears were roaring with thunder. Dropping the reins, she slumped over, heedless of Rinthella desperately shaking her and calling her name.
The black warrior rode forward, reaching out for her, and Lea screamed helplessly in her mind.
“Got you, m’lady!” Thirbe yelled as though from far away.
He galloped up through the falling snow, yelling an old legion war cry, and swung his sword at the torso of the black warrior. His sword caught the black warrior across the back, knocking him forward, and the suffocating hold on Lea vanished.
She choked in a breath, coughing, and pushed herself upright in the saddle. She felt icy cold, a little sick. Her entire body was trembling.
Rinthella gripped the back of her cloak to steady her. “Let’s go. Let’s go!” she cried.
Half-dazed, Lea could barely hear her for the fury of Thirbe’s cursing over the clang and clash of swords. The black warrior had righted himself from Thirbe’s initial blow. Now he fought back in silence, defending himself against Thirbe’s furious onslaught before he suddenly seized the offensive by landing a blow that split Thirbe’s shield and rocked her protector in his saddle.
Lea nearly cried out, but checked herself, backing a frightened Ysandre out of the way as the combat continued. Watching the men, she knew suddenly with a harsh twisting of fear that her protector was no match for this foe. She could see a gold insignia eagle on the black breastplate, saw, too, the muted gleam of an imperial medal at his throat.
Bewilderment filled her. If this man belonged to her brother’s army, what mistake, what error was prompting imperial forces to attack them?
Rinthella poked her. “My lady, let’s get out of here!”
“I can’t abandon him.”
Rinthella went on protesting, but Lea stopped listening.
“Commander!” she called out, trying to sound firm although her voice came out weak and shaky. “Stop this assault, in the name of the emperor!”
The warrior’s low, evil laugh stopped the rest of what she tried to say. Something in that laugh sent icy prickles of fear through her body. She had the sudden feeling that he knew exactly who she was and that his actions were no mistake. In that instant, her mind reeled with questions: Had there been an uprising? Was Caelan dethroned? Was the army in revolt? She pushed them away. This was not a time for conjecture.
As Thirbe parried another blow clumsily, taking it on his shoulder, she gripped her gli-emeralds, calling on the earth spirits with all her strength. The ground shook slightly beneath them, and Ysandre whirled around, snorting, ready to bolt. She reined him hard, barely keeping control of him, and saw the other man with the brutish face block her line of retreat with his scarred warhorse. His eyes were those of a man, not a shadow-sworn demon, but there was no mercy in them. He gave her an evil little grin, saying something she did not understand and pointing his sword at her.
“Gault save us,” Rinthella was praying under her breath, but Lea kept her concentration on the earth spirits. They were bringing what she asked for, but slowly, too slowly.
“Please,” Lea whispered, desperate that they should respond in time. The ground shook again, causing Ysandre to jump and neigh in fear.
A splintering crash caught her attention in time for her to see Thirbe’s damaged shield break. He threw the pieces away, swinging up his sword to parry another hard attack. He was tiring, Lea saw. His face looked strained and grim, but even as he fended off another blow, he succeeded in throwing her a look.
“Run, m’lady!” he shouted. “In Gault’s name, run!”
But Lea would not desert him. Letting the second man think he had her hemmed in, she squeezed her necklace harder, making the stones dig into the tender flesh of her palms, while urging the spirits to hurry. And now she heard a distant rumbling. It grew louder
while the ground shook steadily, not violently, but trembling with a gathering force that made Ysandre rear. Even the warhorses took fright, and when the black warrior’s mount shied back, he missed bringing Thirbe down with what would have probably been a fatal blow.
Swearing, Thirbe charged him, retaliating while he had that momentary advantage. But that wasn’t what Lea had in mind.
“Thirbe, disengage combat!” she yelled.
The men continued fighting, her protector ignoring her order.
“Thirbe!” she shouted.
But he grunted suddenly, making an odd, compressed little sound of pain, and slumped partway from the saddle. His sword dropped to the ground. The black warrior rode around him, arrogant in triumph, and raised his weapon for one last blow.
“No!” Lea screamed.
At that moment, the ground rippled and split open like a plowed furrow. It opened beneath the black warrior’s mount, and the horse reared up in terror even as Thirbe’s horse bolted with him. Thirbe fell from the saddle and hit the ground limply, rolling over and over before he lay unmoving.
“Thirbe!” Lea yelled.
She tried to rein Ysandre out of the way of the running furrow, intending to go to Thirbe’s side. Her valiant gelding, fully panicked now, bucked and ran backward with her. Rinthella fell off, landing on her knees in the trampled snow and mud. With all her strength Lea hauled on the reins and managed to circle Ysandre around to go back for her.
“Rinthella!” she shouted. “To me! Quickly!”
But her attendant wasn’t listening. “The opal!” she cried, still on her knees and frantically patting the ground. “The opal! I’ve dropped it, and we need it for luck!”
“Come on!” Lea yelled, kicking Ysandre in Rinthella’s direction. “Rinthella, leave it!”
The Pearls Page 9