The Rebellion (102 page)

Breaking contact, I whispered to the others that we needed to get closer to the gate. We crept forward, humans first and horses following, until we could see the watchtower strung with lanterns through a break in the trees. The actual gate beneath it was hidden behind thick brush. Holding my hand up to signal a halt, I sent a probe up to the watchtower. The guard there was worrying about staying awake, because anyone who slept on watch was whipped. Gently, I coerced him to remember the whipping of a friend that he had been forced to witness, and while he was distracted, we flitted to the patch of trees almost directly under the tower.

Now he would not see us unless he hung over the edge and looked straight down, but we had a clear view of the gate. Two more guards stood near it, lounging against the wall and talking in low voices. Using Talent to enhance my
hearing, I found that they were talking, predictably enough, about the capture of Henry Druid and the rumor that his armsmen would try to break into the camp that night.

“All I’m asking is why they’d do it, when they know we’ll follow them back to their hideaway?” I heard one of them ask.

“Maybe they’re desperate because he’s their leader,” the other muttered, but I could feel his mind begin to fret at the inconsistencies of Miryum’s scheme. Swiftly, I planted a modifying thought about how seldom the captains told anything to rank-and-file soldierguards, and I strung this to a suspicious conjecture that there was something vital he hadn’t been told.

“Ah, curse it!” someone hissed behind me, and I opened my mouth to silence him when I felt a drop of water fall on my cheek and another on my hand. All at once, the foliage was full of the whisper of falling rain. I mouthed a curse myself, for the last thing we needed were rain-slick roads. Worse, rain could interfere with farseeking and coercivity.

Suddenly, a dog began to bark furiously, and in a minute, it sounded as if twenty dogs were in a frenzy. The watchtower guard poked his head out and peered around, and the two gate guards snatched up bows and swords and rushed out into the open to shout up at him.

“Do you see anything?”

I felt Miryum give the man in the tower a coercive shove.

“Yes! Yes,” he cried. “People running across the yard. Lud curse them, it’s the Druid’s people. They’ve broken him out! Tell the captains!”

After a hurried consultation, one of the gate guards ran off into the darkness and the other withdrew into his booth, believing he had been instructed by his masters to let the
prisoners go by. I was fascinated to witness implanted “memories” burst open so he would believe he had seen and heard the Druid and a group of his armsmen run past.

The frantic barking of the guard dogs had grown louder, and now I could hear the shouts of men and the sound of heavy boots.

Then I heard the whinny of a horse.

“They’re mounting up,” Gahltha sent, and I realized we were supposed to be mounted already.

“Quick—we have to ride,” I hissed, cursing my stupidity.

“Are you ready?” Miryum farsent with painful coercive force.

“We are,” I sent tersely.

“Ride, then, and go as fast as you can,” she sent. “We’re right behind you. Go!” This last was a general coercive command, and we burst from the bushes onto the track heading for the main road.

“They’ve got out!” bellowed the man from the watchtower; then I heard no more over the thunderous sound of Gahltha’s hooves. Luckily, the horses could see better than their human mounts, for it was pitch dark away from the lantern lights. I loosed a probe to warn me of any obstacles, just in time to avoid an overhanging branch. If I fell—if any of us fell—the coercers had too little strength left to prevent the soldierguards killing us.

Fortunately, everyone taking part in the decoy could ride well. Lina was alongside me, leaning low over her horse’s neck, and behind us I sensed Miryum and her team catching up.

“Ride!” her mind commanded. “The soldierguards are coming, and we need to open a gap between us.”

We reached the main road, and the horses swung their noses to the highlands. There must have been some moonlight
showing through the clouds, because I could see the road and the trees on either side now. I shook drops of water from my eyes and risked a glance over my shoulder. Beyond Miryum and her knights, I could see the dim outline of distant riders. Their horses were deliberately running more slowly than they could to enable us to get far enough ahead that no arrow or knife would cover the distance. Since our horses were moving at full speed, we were steadily drawing away.

But we could not go on at that pace forever. As soon as there was a decent gap, Gahltha signaled the other horses and we slowed to a fast canter.

After some time, I farsought behind us and discovered that a small number of soldierguards had drawn away from the rest and were gaining on us. I cast about in their horses’ minds and learned with horror that their leader was flogging his horse mercilessly with a whip to force her to run faster. I tried to coerce him to stop, only to find he wore a demon band. Three other captains were wearing them, too, and they were also flailing their whips, not only at their own horses but also at the horses around them. Against their will, the horses were increasing their speed.

“Bastards,” Miryum sent impotently, cursing herself for failing to foresee this possibility and implant coercive instructions for the soldierguards not to notice tardiness in their mounts.

“They’ll kill the horses if they don’t increase their speed,” I sent to Gahltha. “We have to ride faster.”

Agreeing, he sent a command to the others and our pace redoubled. “We have enough lead that they will not catch/stop us before we reach the White Valley,” he sent reassuringly.

I concentrated on being as little of a burden as I could, knowing our lives depended upon our winning this race.

“There!” Lina shouted over a mighty crack of thunder.

I squinted through the rain to see the familiar outline of Guanette in the distance, illuminated by streaks of lightning. This meant we were close to the turnoff into the Valley. I had just begun to fear we might have missed it when Gahltha signaled that he scented it ahead, past a slight bend in the road.

When we reached it, I stared down in dismay. Little used at the best of times, the access track was fiendishly steep and narrow and badly eroded at the edges, but the downpour had turned it into a rain-slicked death trap descending into pitch blackness. Ordinarily, the horses would have gone down riderless, with us following on foot, but there was no time. The soldierguards were bare minutes behind us, and I prayed Avra had been right when she had told me that the horses who had volunteered for the decoy ride were sure-footed.

Lina pulled up beside me, her hair plastered to her neck and cheeks. She looked down at the track, then up at me in inquiry.

“Can you do it?” I asked.

Her eyes narrowed, and all the mischief and irreverence in her sharp little face became a tough determination. “Can a wolf howl?”

Swallowing my fear, I bade her go. She was an excellent rider, and if she could not descend safely, I knew some of the others would have no chance. I watched with my heart in my mouth as she and her mount negotiated the treacherous path, descending until they were out of sight, swallowed by foliage and shadows. I waited with bated breath, following the rest of her descent with my mind and gasping aloud in relief as I felt her touch bottom.

The other horses followed her route carefully, one at a time. I wanted to urge them to hurry, but dared not.

I watched Angina ride over the edge fearfully, knowing he was not as good a rider as the others, but his horse assured me that she would not let him fall. Kella went next and then several of the knights. Trusting their prowess, I took the chance to glance back. Miryum and Straaka were just riding up with three beastspeakers.

“These are the last. You go next,” the coercer shouted to me after chivying the first beastspeaker down.

“No. The other beastspeakers, then you two.”

“You are Master of Obernewtyn.…”

“And you have sworn to obey me as a coercer-knight. Now do as I say. You can’t coerce those banded captains anyway.”

“Nor can you,” Miryum cried.

“No, but I can beastspeak their horses,” I snapped. “Now stop wasting time!”

The second beastspeaker vanished over the edge. I sensed dimly that someone had fallen farther down but not badly. There was no time to probe further.

“I see them,” Straaka shouted, pointing back along the road.

“Go!” I shouted to him and Miryum. Then I turned my attention to the leading soldierguard’s horse. “Help us! Lose your rider if you can/will.”

“I would have thrown/trampled him/funaga-li weary years past, but he rides like/with the soul of an equine. If I succeeded, his pride will desire me dead,” the mare sent.

“We need your help,” I sent. “Do this, and it will be the last time you will ever bear a rider.”

“I obey, Innle.”

I saw her stop and shy spectacularly in a flash of lightning, bringing the pursuit to a confused and milling halt. But her rider stuck to her back as if he were part of her flesh, and as the mare dropped wearily back onto all fours, he uncoiled his whip, his face contorted with rage. I prayed he would strike only once and then turn his attention back to us, but he slashed at her raw flanks as if in a frenzy. I felt only the dimmest edge of the pain it gave her, but it was enough to make me cry out in agony.

“The way is clear now,” Gahltha sent urgently.

The mare stumbled to her knees, and the soldierguard leapt from her back and turned to lay into her with such abandon that I could see he meant to whip her to death.

“We cannot help her,” Gahltha sent.

Fury ran through me like hot fire, and I reached instinctively for my deadliest ability. Everything seemed to slow down around me as it wakened. Even the rain fell with monstrous lethargy.

I sheathed my coercive probe in the power and hurled it at the soldierguard captain’s mind. Dimly, I envisaged it making enough of an impact to distract him. But to my astonishment, the probe sheered through the storm static and the demon-band block as if they did not exist.

Knowing the blow would kill the soldierguard, I tried to soften it, but, incredibly, the probe bucked and writhed, refusing to obey my will. It had been formed of uncontrolled fury and would respond to nothing else. It fought to strike at the soldierguard along the worn trajectory of my hatred for all abusers of beasts, and the effort of holding it back took all my energy.

I felt my grip falter, and the partly tamed probe slipped sideways and struck its target.
My
target.

Gasping as that dark power recoiled into me, I watched the soldierguard captain arch dramatically backward, the bloody whip falling from his fingers. With a terrible, inhuman shriek of pain, he pitched sideways, his mouth stretched with agony. When he fell, he did not move.

Trembling with exhaustion and shock, I reached out with my mind. He was alive, but only barely.

The soldierguards were beginning to bellow, and some were pointing at me as others tried to lift their captain to the roadside. The mare staggered away into the trees, but I had no energy left even to beastspeak her.

“I will send her directions to the barud, but we must go
now,
” Gahltha sent. Without waiting for me to concur, he plunged over the edge onto the valley path. I was too shattered to be afraid of falling or of being shot in the back by the soldierguards. My body felt weak and hollow, and my mind was so spent as to render me unTalented. I felt witless at having nearly killed a man.

“He meant to kill the equine,” Gahltha sent firmly.

“Misfits … don’t kill,” I sent. Even in physical contact with the horse, it took a great effort. “We don’t kill or maim or hurt anything.…”

“You did not will to kill him/funaga-li.”

“You don’t understand,” I wept. “Part of me did!”

“What happened?” Miryum demanded. “You were so long, we thought …”

I dragged my wits together, realizing the others were clustered around me in the dark, wet foliage instead of taking advantage of our lead.

We all froze at the sound of a scream from above, and moments later, a riderless horse came stumbling down the path, its eyes showing white. Obviously, her rider had not
anticipated how steep the path was and had trusted his own instincts over those of his horse. We heard him cursing foully and calling up to his comrades that he’d broken his leg.

“Let’s go while we can,” Miryum urged.

As we rode on, I tried to farseek Duria, but my mind was incapable of even locating him let alone of communicating. Fortunately, he linked with one of the coercers to guide us to the ambush point. We were perhaps twenty minutes away, and there was no need to ride fast now. Ironically, we had to make sure we left a good clear trail so that the soldierguards would not lose us in the dark.

The storm had faded away without my noticing it, and the rain had almost cleared, but we were soaked to the skin. The long, hard ride had kept us from feeling the cold, but with the slower pace, I could feel it beginning to gnaw at my bones. By the time we came to the narrow track leading into the cul-de-sac where the trap was to be sprung, my teeth were chattering so hard I could not speak.

The track opened up into a broad clearing surrounded by high walls of stone, and I knew we had reached our destination. Sliding from Gahltha’s back, I staggered.

By the time we were all sheltered under several clumps of trees down the far end of the canyon, the rain had ceased completely and the clouds began to fray and separate. The moon showed through their ragged edges, revealing the full extent of the cul-de-sac limned in silvery blue. Duria had been right in saying it was the perfect place for an ambush.

“Can you contact Duria?” I asked Miryum. “I used up all my energy delaying the soldierguards.”

“I’m afraid I have nothing left. I couldn’t coerce them if my life depended on it,” she admitted.

At her words, a terrible premonition smote at me, but
before I could grasp what it might mean, the soldierguards arrived. They galloped wildly into the clearing, one after another, until there were dozens milling about.