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Authors: Joanne Bertin

BOOK: Dragon and Phoenix
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Never had she heard such steel in Lleld’s voice. She knew why the little Dragonlord forbade her to speak to Linden. But to not have even that much!
Love warred with duty. Duty won.
*Ride north, then west, else thee will ride straight into the fort of Rhampul. *
It was the voice that had warned them. She had no choice but to trust it. Maurynna turned Boreal. “This way,” she called to Raven. “This—” Her voice broke.
She settled down to outrun the soldiers who pursued them.
 
They had not been riding long when the others crested a low rise and disappeared down the other side. When Linden, lagging a little behind, reached the top, he saw the others waiting down below. Otter was leaning on the high pommel of his saddle, trying to catch his breath. Jekkanadar lay on the ground, ear pressed to the earth, listening.
“I think we’ve lost the soldiers,” Linden reported as he joined them. He ran a hand gingerly along his ribs; none broken—he thought. “We wait here for Maurynna and Raven, then?”
Jekkanadar would not meet his eyes. But Lleld—
Lleld sat up straight as a spear in the saddle. The harsh sun of Jehanglan cast its light on a face grimmer than he had ever seen it.
All at once he was afraid he understood why. “Where is she?” Linden said, his voice fierce and low.
Lleld said, “Gone. I mindspoke Maurynna, ordered her and Raven to leave for Mount Kajhenral.”
He stared down at her, perilously close to wringing her neck. Otter must have read his thoughts in his face, for the bard made to push Nightsong between them.
Lleld stopped him with a wave of her hand; then she crossed her arms across her chest and met Linden’s eyes without flinching.
“How dare you,” Linden said, choking back his fury. The coldness he’d felt when he thought Maurynna might be caught by the soldiers came back tenfold. “Gods damn you, Lleld, couldn’t you give us a chance to say good-bye?”
“There was no time, Linden,” she said.
“You had no right!” Linden yelled, overcome by anger at last.
“I had every right!” Lleld yelled back. “Or did you forget that the Lady made me the leader of this mission? And the mission comes before any of us, or any of our feelings. Nor will you mindspeak her. The gods only know what hornet’s
nest we’ve heaved a rock into. Our job is to play decoy and stay just ahead of the soldiers. Now, after a run like that, even Llysanyins need to rest a bit. But be ready to ride at a moment’s notice.”
Linden snarled a curse and dismounted. When Lleld brought him a waterskin and some dried meat, he nearly slapped her hand aside. Instead he glared up at her from his seat on the ground.
“You have to eat, Linden. We don’t know when we’ll get another chance.”
She was right, of course; it was one of the first things a soldier learned. Eat when you could, rest when you could—and do anything else that you could, when you could. He remembered last night and his heart ached. If he’d known … .
So what if Lleld was right? It didn’t help one bit.
Now and again the Dragonlords took turns listening for the thud of hoofbeats in the ground. It came sooner than they expected.
“Mount up,” Jekkanadar said grimly during his turn. “They’re coming.” He jumped up and mounted Hillel once more.
A few moments later they were all in the saddle again. Lleld set her heels to Miki’s sides. At once the little Llysanyin was off again. Jekkanadar and Otter followed, letting the shorter-legged Miki set the pace.
Linden fell in behind. As he rode, he kept looking over his shoulder, even though he knew it was futile. Maurynna would be well on her way by now.
“Maurynna! Maurynna—hold up!”
Maurynna looked back over her shoulder. Stormwind had stopped and Raven was jumping down. “What is it?” she called as Boreal slowed and turned. Fear seized her, for Raven was picking up one of Stormwind’s forefeet.
“Stone, I think,” Raven said. “All of a sudden he stumbled and stopped.”
Stormwind nodded. Raven straightened and dug into a saddlebag. “Well enough, then, boy—we’ll have that out faster than my Uncle Fox can down a mug,” he said as he pulled out a hoofpick. The tension in his voice belied his flippant words. Once more he bent over the foot Stormwind lifted for him, and set to work.
After looking all around like a nervous owl, Maurynna sat and watched as Raven worked.
The moments slid past. “Damn,” he snarled, “the little bugger’s wedged tight.”
Then Maurynna heard the sound she’d been dreading: the chink of armor, a low rumble of men’s voices. Their pursuers were some distance away, but they had lost valuable time. “Raven,” she said, her voice low and tense. “
Hurry
.”
“I’m trying,” he snapped. Then, “There!” in triumph.
He dropped Stormwind’s foot. The stallion took a careful step or two. Even Maurynna could tell he limped slightly. But the Llysanyin nudged his rider and swung toward him. Raven took the hint and mounted.
“We’ll have to go slowly,” Raven said, and set off.
Maurynna dropped behind, letting Stormwind set the pace. Although the Llysanyin did the best he could, she fretted. Now and again, the breeze brought the sound of the troop following them; once she even thought she recognized Taren’s voice. And each time, the noise was closer.
They rode on slowly. Too slowly; their enemy followed like hounds on the trail of a wounded deer.
At last it happened. As they reached the top of one of the rolling swells of land, a harsh shout went up behind them.
Stormwind broke into a limping run; Boreal came up beside him. On they went, the Llysanyins held to the speed of ordinary horses by the sore hoof.
It was like something from a nightmare. One where, no matter how you tried, you could never move faster than a crawl, while the fiendish thing behind you moved like the wind, and each time you looked over your shoulder, its dripping fangs loomed closer. Maurynna had had nightmares like that, and hated them. Now she lived one.
Another backward glance; she saw Raven do the same. Their pursuers whipped up their horses. It was only a matter of time now.
Raven fumbled at the long dirk hanging from his saddle. “Get away while you can!” he yelled over the sound of pounding hooves. He drew the reins back.
“Stormwind, keep running!” Maurynna ordered, then, “Don’t be stupid—what good is a dirk against swords? You stop, and so do I.”
“You stubborn—” He looked back. “They’re nearly on us! Ride!”
Stormwind did the best he could, but it was, Maurynna knew, futile. Any moment the Jehangli soldiers would have them. She reached for her own dirk. If nothing else, either she would force them to kill her, or she would take her own life.
Just as her hand closed on the hilt, it happened again. A sense of a ribbon of wet, glittering darkness snapped into Maurynna’s mind. With it came a sharp order: *
Due west and cross the river!
*
She clapped her heels to Boreal’s sides. “We have one last chance!” she cried.
Stormwind matched her pace; Maurynna prayed that the river they sought was not far off. She’d no idea how long the gallant Llysanyin could last. Longer, she hoped, than their pursuers, who were once more dropping behind, judging by their yells of frustration.
It seemed like forever, but she knew it couldn’t have been much more than a mile before they saw the river.
“Now run for it!” Maurynna yelled.
The Llysanyins raced across the flat, open floodplain. Maurynna could hear Stormwind grunt with each stride, but the stallion kept up. Closer, closer came the dark water and its nebulous promise of safety.
Then they were plunging into it with a terrific splash. The black water fountained up, soaking them. Maurynna shrieked in surprise; she hadn’t expected it to be so
cold
. A moment later she felt Boreal swimming strongly beneath her. She clung to the saddle; she was a good swimmer, but she’d no wish to test herself against the current tugging at them.
Still, she nearly jumped out of the saddle when something brushed against her leg. It must have touched Boreal as well, for the stallion neighed in surprise
and redoubled his efforts. Nearly sick with fright, Maurynna told herself over and over that sharks did
not
live in fresh water, that she’d never heard of a freshwater fish large enough to harm a horse and rider, and river weed did not eat meat.
But that was in the north; who knew what lurked in Jehangli waters? She shut her mind to the thought.
At last they were to the other side. The stallions scrambled up the bank with difficulty. They stood a moment, sides heaving, then set off at a trot.
Though what good it would do, Maurynna didn’t know. The land around them was as flat as a table, and they the only beings upon it. They must stand out like two lone chessmen on a board. All too soon the soldiers would cross the river after them.
It came even faster than Maurynna had feared. Yells of triumph told them they had been discovered. Maurynna glanced at Raven.
“Can he run any more?” she asked quietly.
Raven shook his head.
“Then we fight here,” she said, and drew her sailor’s dirk. “I’ll not be sport for them any longer.”
A fierce grin lit Raven’s face. “Just like Bram and Rani, eh?”
Maurynna laughed. “Just so. Though they were better armed.”
They turned the horses to face their enemies. A strange calm took Maurynna. She thought only of how many enemies she could take with her. Her sole regret was that she dared not mindspeak Linden; if he was safe, she’d not be the one to somehow lead the Jehangli priestmages to him.
The first soldiers drove their horses into the water. Soon the whole troop was swimming across. Maurynna imagined she could see the glitter of blood lust in their eyes. Only one figure remained on the shore.
“Damn,” Raven said. “I wanted Taren’s head.” He spoke as mildly as if he talked of a new bridle, and Maurynna knew the same strange calm rode him as well.
So this is what it is to die,
she thought.
And Death came.
 
How are you faring?
Linden mindspoke Otter as they rode.
Well enough,
Otter answered, but there was a tired note to it. Tired, and worried.
Linden, I’ve been too afraid to ask, but-Did they … ?
Get clear? I think so; I hung back to make certain. And if something had happened, I’m certain I would have felt it.
Frustration with not truly knowing ate at him. But he had to cling to that belief or go mad.
Thank the gods. They can drive a man mad, but … I love them both.
Linden smiled sadly.
Aye,
he said,
I understand.
Then,
Tell us when you need to rest,
Otter;
we’ll soon have a safe distance between us and those bastards.
A mental snort of indignation.
I’m good for a while yet, boyo.
Linden smiled in truth this time. Then he stared out over the rolling grassland, and settled himself a little deeper in the saddle.
 
Death came—but not for them. Before Maurynna’s astonished eyes, the black water roiled, and horse after horse vanished beneath the surface or was thrown into the air to land among its fellows. The yells of triumph turned to cries of panic in the blink of an eye as soldiers tumbled from their saddles and slid beneath the deadly waters, doomed by the weight of armor and weapons.
Maurynna and Raven watched, transfixed by the slaughter before them, unable to move or look away. Some of the Jehangli soldiers, those closest to the far shore, turned their horses in time and retreated. There were pitifully few of them; they milled around Taren, who stared across the river as if he could fell them with a glare, the sunlight glinting in his white hair.
Then one of the soldiers broke and ran. As though his flight were a summons, the others followed until only Taren was left. At last even he turned away from the deadly waters and rode off.
Raven slid down from Stormwind. “Wha—what happened?” he said, his voice shaking. His icy calm was breaking at last.
Maurynna’s followed. She whispered, “I don’t know. It felt … I thought …” But she no longer knew what she thought. What they had seen was impossible; there was no rational explanation for it. All she knew was that it scared the daylights out of her.
“Raven, let’s get away from here.” And even though Boreal didn’t need the rest, she also dismounted to lead him, for she wanted to feel the solidness of earth beneath her feet, needed an anchor in a world gone mad.
“What about the Two Poor Bastards?” Raven said. “They were following us.”
“They know what they’re doing; they’ll find either us or the others before long.” She lifted her head, feeling the breeze on her face—and, for the first time, the tug of the imprisoned dragon. Was it because she was now the only magical being for miles?
“This way,” she said, and set off across the rolling grasslands.
 
Yesuin dozed in the saddle as he rode. He should make Rhampul today, he thought drowsily, as the horse trotted steadily on.
He slipped into a half-waking dream. He was running so hard that he felt his heart hammering in his chest like a drum, each beat reverberating in his blood.
Like a drum, like a drum … . He came awake with a gasp.
Those
were
drums he heard! With a curse, Yesuin halted his horse and
listened. His heart went cold within him as he recognized a rhythm he hadn’t heard since his childhood.
He was in the path of a Zharmatian warband.
How can they be on this side of the Black River?
His first instinct was to dig his heels into his horse’s sides and race away. But his horse was already tired from the long days of traveling; he must husband its strength for as long as he could.
He set off, keeping to the hollows as much as possible.
 
At last Lleld slowed Miki to a walk.
Linden, riding rear guard, was glad of it. Even a Llysanyin couldn’t gallop for candlemarks on end, although the greathearted creatures would run themselves to death if their riders’ lives depended on it. But there was no such need, he thought; they had kept the mad pace for a good two or three candlemarks now. Whatever horses of their enemies hadn’t been ridden into exhaustion would still be far behind.
But not far enough to discourage them from the chase, he hoped.
Otter slumped over his saddle. Nightsong looked back at him and nickered in concern. Then the mare stopped; by the way she planted her feet, Linden knew she wasn’t going another step.
She had the right of it, anyway. Otter needed a rest. Linden called “Hold up!” to the others, and dismounted.
Lleld turned in her saddle. “We rest here,” she said, “at least for a time.”
The bard groaned as his feet touched the ground once more. He patted Nightsong’s shoulder and allowed himself to be led off to the side. More groans followed as he lowered himself slowly to the ground.
“You’re not hurt, are you?” Linden asked, suddenly afraid that Otter had taken some wound during the escape and not said anything.
“Not permanently,” Otter complained. “But I don’t think I’d be bedding any lasses even if one were here and throwing herself at me.”
Linden laughed in relief. “Lie down and rest, you silly ass. One of us will see to Nightsong.”
They made a rough camp in one of the hollows, not intending to stay more than a few candlemarks, just enough to eat a little and sleep. Then they would be off again, the gods only knew where, their mission to draw as many Jehangli soldiers as possible away from Maurynna and Raven.
“We can’t keep going south as we have, or we’ll run into more settled lands,” Linden said as he chewed on a strip of dried meat. Maurynna and Raven will be traveling north and west—we don’t want to follow them. Northeast brings us back to Rhampul. Well, Lady Mayhem? You’re in charge.”
Making a face at him, Lleld said, “I should toss this back at you as something
military. But I say, south a little more, then west across that river Taren spoke of. Show ourselves on the rises as often as we must to keep them after us, lead the soldiers on a merry chase for as long as Maurynna needs, then lose ’em and ride like hell for the north. Once the power of the priestmages is broken, one of us can Change and search out Maurynna and Raven.” She lifted her chin at him in defiance. “What do you say to that?”

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