Fires of Azeroth (38 page)

"Doors." Morgaine murmured suddenly, trying to gather herself. "Better see if there is any stir outside."

"Rest," Vanye said, and rose and left her, picking his way back to the riven farther door of the fortress. There was little means to close those gates now, little left of them but splintered wreckage. He looked at what lay farther, a road up the height, winding turns indistinct in the gathering dusk. Sight of enemies there was none.

"Lellin," Morgaine said elsewhere, and timbers crashed. She was on her feet by the other doorway, that by which they had entered, trying to move it alone. Lellin rose to help her; Vanye came to assist; others gathered themselves up, exhausted as they were. Down on the flat, in the gray distance across the clearing, there was a force massing, riders gathering, sweeping up the horde of foot and forcing them on, driving them rather than leading.

"Well," Roh said hoarsely, "they have learned. That is what they should have done before now, put the weight of bodies against us. Too late for Hetharu. But some other leader has taken them now, and they care not how many human folk they lose."

"We must get these doors closed," Morgaine said.

The hinges were broken; the doors, thick at the edges as a man's arm, grated over stone and bowed alarmingly close to coming apart as they threw their strength against them. They moved the other valve as well, and that was too free at one point, for one hinge still held, but it too grated into place, with daylight between.

"That big timber," Roh said, indicating a rough, bark-covered log which had been an obstacle in the hall, amid the other fallen beams. "Their ram, doubtless. It can brace the center."

It was the best they had. They heaved it up with difficulty, braced it hard; but the broken gates could hardly stand long at any point if the Shiua brought another ram against it. The doors were a lattice of splinters, and though they braced them up with beams and debris from the rear doors, they could not stop them from bowing at their weak points, even to one man's strength.

"It is not going to hold," Vanye declared in despair, leaning head and arms against it. He looked at Morgaine and saw the same written on her face, exhausted as she was, her face barred with the half-light that sifted through their barricade.

"If," she said in a faint voice, "if those higher up this hill have not attacked us down here it can only be for one cause: that they see the others coming. They are waiting for that, to hit us from both sides at once and pin us here. And if we do not stop them from attacking Nehmin itself, then ultimately they can batter down its gates. Vanye, we have no choice. We cannot hold this place."

"Those down below will be on our heels before we can engage those above."

"Should we sit and die here, to no account at all? I am going on."

"Did I say I was not? I am with you."

"Get to horse, then. It is getting dark, and we dare not waste the little time we have."

"You cannot go on wielding that sword. It will kill you. Give it to me."

"I shall carry it while I can." Her voice went hoarse. "I do not trust it near Nehmin. There is danger that you might not feel, a thing one senses in the sound and feel of it ... a limit of approach. A mistake would kill us all. If it comes to you-avoid the jewels . . . avoid them. And if someone stirs up the forces channelled through the fortress-I hope you feel it in time. It would tear this rock apart, unsheathed." She thrust herself from the gateway and sought Siptah's side, took up the reins. "Stay with me."

Others began to go to their horses, weary as they were, determined to come with them. Morgaine looked about at them and said nothing. Only at Roh she looked long and hard. In her mind surely was Nehmin itself-and Roh for their companion.

Roh averted his eyes and looked instead toward their fragile barricade. The sounds of the horde were louder, the enemy almost at the foot of the road, by the sound of it. "I can keep a ram away from that barrier a little time. At least they will not be on your backs. That will give you a chance."

Vanye looked at Morgaine, wishing otherwise, but Morgaine slowly nodded. "Aye," she said, "you could do that."

"Cousin," Vanye said, "do not. You can buy too little time for your life."

Roh shook his head, desperation in his eyes. "You mean well; but I will not go up there while there is any use for me here. If I went up there, near
that
... I
think
I would break my word. There is some use for me here . . . and you underestimate my marksmanship, Nhi Vanye i Chya."

Vanye understood him then, and embraced him with a great pain in his heart, then turned and hurled himself into the saddle.

Sezar cried out sudden warning, for there was the sound of a force advancing not only up out of the valley, but down off the height, coming down upon them.

Only Perrin and Vis stayed afoot, leaning on their bows. "Here is work for more than one bowman," Perrin said. "Three of us just might be able to change their minds; besides, if some pass you, we can keep them from Roh's back."

"Your blessing, lord," Vis asked, and Merir leaned down and took the
khemeis's
half-gloved hand. "Aye," he said, "on you all three."

Then he broke away, for Morgaine turned Siptah's head and rode into the gathering dusk. Vanye followed closely, too wrapped now in their own fate to mourn others. Even for them it was a matter of time: Lellin and Sezar were with them, weaponless; the little
arrha
rode with them, bloodied and scarcely clinging to her saddle, but she stayed with Merir; and Sharrn and Kessun with their bows ... the only two armed now but themselves.

"How far?" Morgaine asked of the
arrha.
"How many turns before the Horn? How many from there to the fortress of Nehmin itself?"

"Three before the Dark Horn; more after . . . four, five; I do not clearly remember, lady." The
arrha's
voice was hardly audible in the sounds about them, a painful breach of habitual silence. "I have only been here once."

Rocks hove up on either side of them in the near-darkness, making a wall on their left, sometimes falling away sharply to the right, so that they looked down a darkening fall to the flat. There was no more sound from above them, while shouts came distantly from the gray masses which surged toward the Lesser Horn.

Then the rocks began to rise on their right as well as on their left, and they must venture a steep, dark winding.

"Ambush," Vanye muttered as they approached that. Morgaine was already reaching for
Changeling.

Suddenly rock hurtled down, bounding and thundering from above, and the horses shied in terror.
Changeling
whipped the air and wind howled, cold, sucking at them in that narrow chute. The moaning drank the thunder: the only rock to come near them plummeted down on their very heads and went elsewhere. Sweat ran down Vanye's sides beneath the armor.

Siptah leaned into a run; they pressed forward with arrows hailing down like invisible wasps, but the overhang of the cliff and
Changeling's
wind sheltered them from harm.

It was when they made the turning and faced the height that the arrows came truly; Morgaine held the fore, and the sword shielded them all, hurling the arrowflight into nothingness, the winds sucking such few as passed into forceless impacts. Men with wooden spears opposed them and Morgaine hit those ranks with a sweep that cleared Men and weapons elsewhere, flung them screaming into dark, and what remained Vanye caught, closer to
Changeling's
howling dark than ever he liked to come: he felt the cold himself, and Morgaine struggled to press Siptah as close to the outer margin of the road as she could, rather than risk him.

Panic seized the Shiua remaining; they turned their backs and began to flee up the road, and on them Morgaine had no mercy: she pursued them, and in her wake no bodies remained.

Blackness waited beyond the turn, the shadow of the Dark Horn itself, upthrust against the sky, a wide flat a bowshot across where the road turned and enemies massed.

Suddenly Kessun cried warning at a rattle of rock behind, for enemies poured off the rocks at their left flank, cutting them off from retreat

Witch-sword and plain steel: they held an instant; then Morgaine began to back against the rock of the Horn. These Shiua did not break and run:
"Angharanl"
they cried, knowing Morgaine, voices hoarse with hate. With pike and staff they pressed forward, demon-helms on the one side and marshlands rabble on the other.

There was no more retreat. Lellin and Sezar, Sham and Kessun, had snatched themselves weapons such as they could of the dead, wooden spears and barbed lances. They set their backs against the jumbled rock of the Horn, the horses backed almost against it, and held, the while
Changeling
did its dread work.

Then there was respite, a falling back, the enemy seeming exhausted, dazed by the lessening of their ranks, and raw abrasion of Gate-force loose in the area: hearing dimmed, skin seemed raw, breath seemed close. A man could bear that only so long.

So could its wielder. Vanye spurred forward as the retreat spread, thinking Morgaine would attempt it but she did not; he checked his impulse at once, appalled when he saw her face in the opal light. Sweat beaded her skin. She could not sheath the sword. He pried it from her fingers and felt the numbing force in his own bones, worse than it was wont to be. With that gone, she simply slumped against Siptah's neck, undone, and he stayed beside her, the sword yet naked, for he wished to give their enemies no encouragement by sheathing it.

"Let us try," said Merir, moving up beside. "Our force added to yours. We might have distance enough here."

Morgaine sat up and shook her white hair back. "No," she exclaimed. "No. The combination is too dangerous. It might still bridge, take us all, perhaps. No. And stay back. Your kind of barrier cannot turn weapons. We have seen that. You and the
arrha-"
She looked about, for the
arrha
was not with Merir. Vanye cast a quick look back too, and saw the small white figure poised halfway up the black rock, perched there forlornly . . . horse lost in the melee. "Send she stays there," Morgaine said. "Lord, go back, go back against the rock."

Then came a booming from far below, echoing up the height. Even the murmur of the enemy fell silent, and the faces of the
arrhendim
were for an instant bewildered.

"Ram," Vanye said hoarsely, shifting his grip on
Changeling's
dragon-hilt. "The Lesser Horn will fall quickly now."

A shout arose from the enemy; they had also understood the sound and the meaning of it.

"They will wait now," Lellin judged, "til they can come at us with the help of those from the flat."

"We ought to carry the attack to these uphill of us," Morgaine said. "Sweep them from our path and try to reach Nehmin's doors."

"We cannot," Vanye said. "Our backs are at least to rock and we can hold that turning. Higher up-we have no guarantee there is a place to stand."

Morgaine nodded slowly. "If they grow cautious of us, we may last a little time-maybe long enough to make a difference for the
arrhend.
At least we carry food and water. Matters could be worse."

"We have not eaten today," Sezar exclaimed.

Morgaine laughed weakly at that, and others smiled. "Aye," she said. "We have not. Perhaps we should take the chance."

"A drink at least," said Sharrn, and Vanye realized the parchment dryness of his own throat, his lips cracked. He sipped at water of the flask Morgaine offered him, for he did not sheath the sword. And another flask went the rounds, fiery stuff that lent a little false warmth to shock-chilled bodies. In their lasting freedom from attack, Sezar broke a journeycake or two which they passed about; and Kessun went over to the
arrha
on her lonely perch, but she accepted only the drink, refusing the food.

Anything of substance lay cold in the belly, indigestible; only the
arrhendim
liquor lent any comfort. Vanye wiped his eyes with the back of a bloody hand and suddenly became aware of silence.

The ram had ceased.

"Soon now," Morgaine said. "Vanye, give me back the sword."

"Liyo-"

"Give it to me."

He did so, hearing that tone; and his arm and shoulder ached, not alone from the shocks they had endured, but from the little time he had held it. It was worse than ever it had been.
Jewel-force,
he thought suddenly,
in the fortress above us. Someone has one unmasked.