03 - Sworn (64 page)

She gave me a hard look, but didn’t argue.

I supposed no one would dare.

I
LEFT
Albion behind to watch over the camp and took Rowan, Griselda, and Qurwin with me to the spot where Ulric and I had stood to watch the city, cutting through the woods. Heading straight for the road would have been faster, but I wasn’t going to leave my best people exposed for longer than I had to.

Goff’s group of around seventy hadn’t yet reached the river bridge when we arrived at the top of the hill that overlooked the plain. We hung back in the woods, but had an excellent view of the land below and the city gates at the end of the broad road.

Rowan and Florizel could have caught them if I’d allowed them to fly ahead, though that didn’t mean Goff would have listened. I didn’t give the order for Rowan to try to reach them now. The sad little band of rebels were too far out into the plain. They’d have been spotted by the city watch already.

Only a few were on horseback. The others marched out of time, several straggling, others veering off to the side and back. I assumed they were nervous and not drunk, but it could have been either. From what I’d seen of Goff, he would be the sort to let his men drink excessively to life, to battle, to their foolish ideals the night before they marched on the city. Perhaps they drank to him and made him feel like a proper leader, much good it would do him now.

They marched on. Goff rode at the front, unmistakable in his fur cape. They carried no banner, and showed no indication of what their intentions might be.

“What will happen?” Rowan asked. Florizel shuffled nervously.

“They’ll be allowed to approach the gate and state their intentions, or we’ll see an attack from the city that will stop them before they get there,” I said. “Either way, they won’t be allowed in.”

“There’s still time to stop them,” Rowan said, her voice stretched thin.

“No,” I said as I watched the city wall. “There’s not.”

The gates opened, and seven riders emerged. All wore silver armor over white, indicating their status as Sorcerers, and rode black horses, save for the one in the middle. He, the largest of the group, wore black and rode a white beast that dwarfed the others. Though they were too far off for us to see details, I knew that his face was scarred, and that the horse’s appearance was even more horrifying up close. Great tusks curved up from the creature’s mouth, and its eyes burned. I’d spent years avoiding the stables where Wardrel housed the tusker, the one Patience had called the devil horse.

The seven riders flew over the empty road, and in moments had left the outer city’s buildings behind them as they charged over the bridge.

“Run, you idiots,” I muttered. Curious as I was about what Severn had to throw at them, my only desire at that moment was to see the rebels turn away and flee toward the hills.

A few hesitated and fell behind, but none broke ranks. Goff held both hands up in the air. Calling for peace, but too late.

Florizel’s tail swished nervously. “Rowan, there’s a child.”

Rowan raised a hand to shield her eyes, then turned to me. “Is it Patience? Tell me he wouldn’t let her go along for this.”

I turned my attention away from Wardrel and back to the rebels. A few smaller figures walked among them. One in a black, hooded coat moved with a slight limp.

My stomach clenched. I hadn’t expected Goff to be such a fool as to take children. I should have known better.

“What shall we do, Aren?” Griselda asked.

“We can’t go in without giving ourselves away,” I said. “I don’t know what else is waiting behind those walls.”

Rowan’s eyes widened, then narrowed into a sharp glare. “You can’t let her die,” she said.

Before she could dig in her heels to tell Florizel to take off, I leaned over and grabbed her arm. “Don’t sacrifice yourself,” I told her. She tried to pull away. “Rowan. This is an order.” I leaned closer and spoke more quietly. “Not a suggestion from a friend. Not a plea from whatever I once was to you. You wanted to stay and be a part of this. Let me do my job.”

She wrenched her arm away, and I let go. She glared at me again. I didn’t care. I preferred her angry and alive to what would happen if I let her go.

Wardrel raised his massive sword high over his head and pointed it at the intruders. His tusker reared, and the seven charged. One stopped and raised his hands overhead, then thrust them forward. Nothing seemed to happen, and then Goff fell from his horse. Others lost their hats, their weapons, or their footing in that great blast of wind. Goff staggered to his feet and ran ahead, sword drawn.

Another of Wardrel’s Sorcerers hung back and pulled something like a large, round stone from thin air. He threw it, and the object hurtled through the air farther and with greater speed than would have been possible without magic. The Sorcerer to his left appeared to be helping with that, directing with his hands. The item hit Goff in the face. His head snapped back, and he crumpled.

And then the groups met in a clash of weapons and raised voices. Many of Goff’s people tried to flee, only to be taken down by Wardrel’s massive sword. Others lost their lives to flying rocks, shocks of energy like lightning, or the jaws of the massive, hairless dog one of the Sorcerers transformed into.

I lost sight of Patience, and only found her again when she ducked under a gust of wind that blew her hood back, revealing her bright, pale hair. She fell to one knee, head down and bow held to her chest. When the wind was gone, she darted forward and grabbed the reins of Goff’s confused mount. She climbed into the saddle.

Rowan released a breath as Patience turned the horse toward the road. She, at least, would escape.

Wardrel’s white tusker screamed a challenge. Patience’s horse broke for the hills, nearly spilling her from the saddle. She held on, though, as it raced toward the road, nearing the bottom of the hill. Patience looked over her shoulder.

She hadn’t seen us.

Beyond her, the battle went on. Goff’s folk were being slaughtered. I hoped the others were taking note of what magic Severn had at his disposal, because I couldn’t tear my attention away from the tiny girl on the big, brown horse. She’d almost reached safety when she glanced back, then hauled on the reins to slow the animal.

She kept her balance as the horse spun and reared, and she clung close to its neck as they raced back into the fray, straight toward the monster who had slain her mother. The sword she carried, narrow but almost as long as one of her legs, bounced as she was nearly unseated. She slipped to one side, and hauled herself back up.

My stomach clenched, and I decided. I would have to fly to get down there quickly enough to do anything, and it would leave me at a disadvantage once I got there. But this was my fault.

If I’d let Rowan go, we could have stopped them.

Griselda placed a hand on my arm before I had a chance to dismount. “Don’t, please. We’ve already lost your father. Don’t make this easy for Severn.”

Below us, someone put a blade through the dog’s throat. One Sorcerer down.

Wardrel continued to go after those who fled, cutting them down like wheat under a threshing blade. If he saw Patience riding toward him, he paid her no mind. When her arrows flew at him, they might have been nothing more than flies buzzing about his head. The girl was a decent shot, but the arrows bounced off of his armor.

Florizel reared. “Rowan, get down.” She looked to me. The whites of her eyes showed, but she stood with her hooves planted firmly and confidently. “Aren. You can’t let Rowan go, but you can let me.”

Rowan slipped to the ground, but said, “We both could, if we can get in and out before—”

Florizel stamped a hoof. “No. I’m so much faster alone, or with just the girl. Aren, please.”

She spoke to me as her herd leader. She’d listen if I told her to stay.

I nodded. “Do what you wish.”

I offered a hand to pull Rowan up behind me on my horse. She sat stiffly, unwilling to lean into me.

A hard shiver twitched the muscles of Florizel’s flanks, and she stamped a forehoof against the ground. “I can be brave again.”

Patience continued to loose her arrows against her enemy. One took the tusker in the rump, and it shied. Wardrel held on, but Patience had his attention. He turned on her, bloody-bladed sword at the ready.

He wouldn’t recognize her. She was only one of many of his victims. But I imagined his grin, heard his laugh ringing through my mind as he lifted his sword in anticipation of his next kill. He loved this. Killing was fun, and fear was thrilling, but he’d always found a challenger always so much more satisfying than a passive victim. Fighting was his great joy and the course he’d chosen to channel what magic he had.

A small girl as a challenger was far better than none at all.

Florizel pushed off from the ground and flew faster than I’d ever seen her go. Unladen, she moved with the speed and grace of a hawk. She swept down over the hill, climbed, and dove toward Wardrel.

Rowan’s fingers gripped the back of my shirt, pulling tight as she watched.

Wardrel’s eyes never left Patience as she rode at him. The tusker saw Florizel, though. The beast let out another scream and reared to paw at the air with massive hooves. Florizel turned at the last moment and avoided the horse as Wardrel was thrown. The tusker turned its rear toward Patience’s horse and kicked out as it passed. The blow to its barrel sent the smaller creature crashing to the ground, and Patience flew a good distance before she hit the dirt.

Riderless, the tusker continued to rear and scream. Wardrel pushed himself up, but turned his back on the beast. He stalked toward Patience.

I barely felt Rowan’s arms as they tightened around my ribs, her anger apparently forgotten for the moment. Though my heart raced and my leg muscles itched to urge my horse forward, my mind was on the battlefield, not with my body.

Florizel landed and danced away from the tusker. She screamed, but not at him. At Patience. The girl looked at her, took a step toward safety, then shook her head.

Wardrel threw his head back, laughing. He spoke, though I couldn’t hear his words. Patience drew her blade and ran at him, hair flying behind her. Wardrel grabbed her by the back of her jacket and hauled her high off the ground. The tip of his blade rose toward her, tilted up, ready to catch her the moment he let her fall.

Not yet, though. He was enjoying it too much.

Florizel leaped into the air. The tusker reared and lashed out with his forehooves as she passed over him. He overbalanced and lost his footing, stumbling backward into his master, knocking him over.

“No!” Rowan’s cry left my ear ringing. I clamped one hand around her forearms to keep her from slipping to the ground and running into the battle.

Patience twisted to the side and hit the ground, followed by Wardrel. Florizel landed to deliver a kick to his head. Wardrel slashed out with his blade, and a shower of blood fell from the flying horse’s flank. Patience’s scream of rage echoed over the field as she turned back toward him. He stood, but slowly. Dazed.

Everything happened almost too quickly for me to follow it. Patience darted into Wardrel’s shadow, ducked under his arm as he raised it, and thrust upward with her blade, into the unprotected space under his arm. She fled as he crashed to the ground. Florizel limped toward her, and Patience hauled herself up onto her friend’s back. Florizel stumbled away with one hind leg held off the ground and tried to push off. Hard as she flapped her wings, she couldn’t get into the air without the strength of her legs. She stumbled again and again, and the tusker charged behind her.

“I’m going,” I said, and released Rowan’s arms. She slid to the ground and I urged my horse forward before anyone could object. We raced down the hill, faster than was safe. I drew my sword.

They’d nearly reached the hill, but the tusker wasn’t going to give up the chase. The ground shook beneath his terrible hooves as he drew nearer to them with every step. The whites of Florizel’s eyes showed, and her sides heaved with her breath. Blood streamed from her hindquarters, but still she ran.

At the last moment, the tusker turned his attention from them to me. Too late. I drove my sword forward, into the beast’s chest. My horse veered to the side as the vicious tusks threatened to gouge into his side. The tusker ran on, and turned to charge back at us. It was several paces before he noticed the metal that pierced his flesh. He stumbled, but kept coming toward us. My horse backed away. The tusker’s front legs went out from under him. He lifted his hideous face toward the sky, and collapsed.

I turned toward Wardrel. He lay on his back, still as the earth beneath him, with the hilt of Patience’s sword protruding from under his arm. I waited. He didn’t move.

The battle was over. The silver-armored Sorcerers, now a group of four, milled about on their horses. They picked up the dog’s body and their other fallen member, and they rode back to the gate.

Apparently Wardrel’s body would have to be someone else’s problem. I rode past it, just to be sure. His eyes stared up at the sky, and when I reached out I sensed nothing in his mind. He was gone, to wherever people like him went when they died.

Like him, or like us?

I considered following the Sorcerers back to the city, calling Griselda and Qurwin down to chase after them and cut down at least that much of Severn’s forces. But he wouldn’t have sent his best for the rebels. There would be more waiting, perhaps preparing to come after us even now.

I turned my horse and rode back up the hill toward the others.

Rowan had Patience’s coat pressed to Florizel’s wounded flank. She glanced up at me. “She’ll be all right. There’s a lot of blood, but I think it looks worse than it is. Nothing Morea can’t handle when we get back.”

“Where’s Patience?”

Rowan nodded to the shade of the forest, where the girl lay under a tree with Griselda tending to her. I dismounted and crouched beside her.

She looked up at me, wary.

“I told you I’d take care of him for you,” I said. “You should have waited and trusted me.” Glad as I was to see our mutual tormenter dead, it never should have fallen to her to see it done.