A Time of Omens - Katharine Kerr [124]
Toward noon, he reached the first plowed fields of Adry’s demesne, where frightened farmers leaned onto their hoes to stare at him as he rode past. Rhodry was thinking of very little besides getting something to eat when he rode up the last hill and heard the sound. From his distance, it sounded like a stormy wind in the trees, but his horse tossed up its head and snorted.
“Oh, here, my friend,” Rhodry said. “Do you think Lord Tewdyr’s here to meet us?”
Chuckling under his breath, Rhodry drew a javelin and trotted up to the hill crest. The sound grew louder and louder, resolving itself into the clang of sword on shield and the whinnies of frightened horses. At the crest, Rhodry paused and looked down into the flat valley below, where the battle raged round Lord Adry’s dun, a swirling, screaming mass of men and horses. Off to the left stood the white tents of the besiegers, but as Rhodry watched, fire sprang out among them. Black plumes of smoke welled up and mingled with the dust.
Howling a war cry, Rhodry kicked his horse to a gallop and raced downhill. Round the edge of the fighting, where there was room to maneuver, the mob spread out into little clots of single combats. Rhodry hurled one of his javelins at an unfamiliar back, pulled and threw the other, then rode on, circling the field and drawing his sword. It was hard to tell friend from foe as the smoke spread over the field. At last he saw two men mobbing a third, riding a gray. As Rhodry rode over, he heard the single rider shouting Erddyr’s name. He spurred his horse and slammed into the melee. He slashed at an opponent’s back, yelled Erddyr’s name to warn the man he was trying to rescue that he was an ally, then stabbed at an enemy horse. Screaming, the horse reared, and Rhodry had a clear strike at the rider as it came down. He flung up his shield to parry, then spurred his quivering horse forward and stabbed with his whole weight behind the sword. The blade shattered the enemy’s mail and killed him clean as the horse stumbled to its knees.
With a wrench of his whole body, Rhodry pulled the sword free and swung his horse round, but the second enemy was already down, huddled on the ground as his horse raced away. With a friendly shout the rider on the gray rode up beside him—Renydd, panting for breath and choking on the smoke in the air.
“Back just in time, silver dagger. My thanks.”
“Stick with me, will you? I don’t know one bastard from another in this lot.”
Renydd nodded and gulped for breath. His horse was sweating with acrid gray foam running in gobbets down its neck.
“I owe you an apology, silver dagger,” Renydd said. “I haven’t treated you too well.”
“Don’t let it trouble your heart. We’ve not got time for fine points of courtesy just now.”
Out on the field three men broke free and headed straight for them. When Rhodry called out Erddyr’s name, the three howled back their answer: for Lord Adry! The name rang with ill omen. If the men from the dun had managed to fight their way out to the edge, the besiegers were losing the battle. With a whoop of laughter, Rhodry flung up his shield and charged to meet them. His thigh slashed open to the bone, one of the three was turning away. Rhodry swerved around him and headed for a man on a black. The enemy wheeled faultlessly to face him and slashed in from the side. Rhodry caught the sword on his shield and leaned, pulling him to one side and opening his guard. When he stabbed in, his enemy twisted back, but blood flowed