A Time of Exile - Katharine Kerr [153]
In the end, Yvmur’s twenty extra men made no difference, because Aeryc caught them on the road on the second day after the surrender of Abernaudd. Since the rebels had scouts riding out on the flanks, Danry wasn’t taken entirely by surprise. They had about an hour to find a good defensible position and arrange the army in it. A broad meadow eased into a low rise, just some twelve feet high, but enough to guard their backs, and on the top of the rise was a loose stand of scattered trees to protect the supply wagons and suchlike. And the king—Yvmur and the two gwerbrets agreed with Danry without one cross word or argument that the lad had better stay safely out of the way for this first, crucial battle. While they waited for Aeryc’s army, Danry collared Cunvelyn.
“Now listen, lad, it’s your first real scrap. You’re going to be one of the men protecting the king.”
“Hiding in the forest, you mean!”
Danry slapped him across the face, but he held his hand a bit, since he was only teaching manners.
“You do what I say.”
“I will, sir.”
“Good.” He allowed himself a smile. “Now come on, Bello, most men would be begging for a chance to ride next to the king. You’re being honored, you silly young cub, and trust me, there’ll be more than enough battles later on to satisfy you.”
Rubbing his face with one hand, Cunvelyn managed a smile at that. His father clapped him on the shoulder, then sent him on his way after the supply wagons and the rest of the king’s guard.
By the time Aeryc’s army came into sight, the sun was as high as it was going to get. When the plume of dust appeared, heading straight for them, horns blared up and down the waiting rebel line. In the clink and rustle of metal, men pulled javelins and readied shields. Danry arranged his men, with himself at their head, in the center of the lax crescent formed by the army. He offered one prayer to the gods for Cunvelyn’s safety; then the Deverry horns shrieked a challenge, and there was no time for prayer or thought. Aeryc’s army turned off the road, came free of a stand of trees, and paused about a quarter mile away to draw their javelins. There were about a thousand of them, Danry estimated, very fair odds indeed. Although his scouts had set the number higher, he put the discrepancy down to the fears and excitements of untried men. It was the only mistake he made in the whole campaign.
The Deverry army bunched into a loose wedge for the charge. The Eldidd line inched forward, gathering itself as the enemy walked their horses a few hesitant yards closer to get a little momentum. At last, when they were close enough for Danry to see the golden wyverns on their shields, their horns blew for the charge; the line surged; the wedge leapt forward and raced for the rebels. With a shout to his men, Danry flung his javelin and drew his sword on the smooth follow-through as the Deverry wedge flung up shields. A few men went down. Danry shrieked a battle cry and spurred his horse forward. Behind him his men plunged after, turning, as they’d been trained, to smash into the flank of the leading riders and scatter their force. Behind them the field exploded in shouting and the clash of weapons.
Danry faced off with one man, killed him, spun for another—then heard horns—a lot of horns—bellowing above the war cries and the shouting. The Deverry line ahead was wheeling back, almost as if to retreat. Riding hard, his captain, Odyl, fell in beside him.
“My lord! Look back!”
With Odyl there to guard his flank, Danry could turn his head for a look just as a plume of dust began to rise among the trees, and a new set of horns and shouts broke out. The rest of the Deverry army was battling up the other side of the rise. Doubtless they’d merely been trying to hit the rebel army from the rear, but all at once Danry realized that they were getting themselves a splendid prize indeed.
“The king!” he screamed. “Odyl!”
Screaming and cursing, they tried to turn their