A Time of Omens - Katharine Kerr [32]
“Now!”
A thousand Wildfolk swept into manifestation and raced down the hill toward the enemy. When Nevyn shouted, blue and silver flames leapt from his hand and followed. Like bolts of lightning the illusory fire fell among the enemy horses just as the Wildfolk dove down from the air, pinching, clawing, biting beast and man alike. The terrified horses reared and pawed, screamed and danced, and the Boarsmen and their allies could do not one thing about it. Shrieking and bucking they broke. Those horses lucky enough to be on the edge of the mob plunged free and galloped away as if all the devils of hell were behind them; those caught in the middle began kicking and biting anything in their way. Owaen and Caradoc began screaming at the silver daggers to pull back and let them go. As the mob loosened its grip more and more Boarsmen pulled out of line and fled, the men screaming louder than their mounts as the Wildfolk streamed after, all claws and teeth.
Maddyn heard a strange noise. It was a moment before he realized that he and Nevyn both were laughing.
“I doubt me if they’ll be re-forming for another charge,” the old man said in the mildest possible tone of voice.
“True enough, and look, my lord, there’s the prince, safe and sound and riding to meet you. Here, I’d best go fetch Caudyr and his wagon. We’ll have wounded men down there.”
Maddyn had only gone about a half mile when he met the chirurgeon trotting his team to meet him. They went to the battlefield together to find Nevyn already supervising as the silver daggers pulled the wounded free of dead and dying horses, while Caradoc, Owaen, and the prince held a hasty council of war off to one side. Since the battle had been so brief, the damage was small. A number of men were badly cut, but all in all, as Maddyn coursed the battlefield with a squad to look for prisoners, he found only three dead silver daggers, and a couple of horses so badly hurt that they’d have to be put out of their misery. Maddyn was just congratulating himself on their light losses when he found Aethan.
His legs trapped by his dead horse Aethan lay on his back near the riverbank. A chance thrust had split his mail and gone through his side to catch a lung. Although he was still alive, at every rasped breath he drew a bubble of blood broke on his lips and trickled down his chin. Maddyn dropped to his knees beside him and half kicked the horse away, half pulled him free, then slipped an arm around his shoulders to cradle his head against his chest. Aethan stared up at him with cloudy eyes.
“It’s me—Maddo. Do you want some water?”
“Don’t leave me.”
“I won’t. We’ve got to get Caudyr over here.”
“Won’t do any good.”
Like a spear in his own heart Maddyn felt the truth of it.
“I’ll make a song for you. Just like you were a lord.”
Aethan smiled up at the sky with bloody lips. It was a long time before Maddyn realized that he was dead. He shut Aethan’s eyes, laid him down, and sat back on his heels, simply sat there for a long time, staring at nothing, trying to put together a proper gorchan for Aethan and wondering why the words wouldn’t come. Out of nowhere, it seemed, Caradoc materialized and knelt down beside him.
“He was a good lad. I’ll miss him.”
Maddyn nodded. When Caradoc laid a hand on his arm, he shook it off, and after a few minutes the captain went away again—Maddyn never noticed in what direction or why. All at once he was so tired that the world seemed distant and faint, stripped of all color and sound. He lay down next to Aethan on the blood-soaked earth, threw one arm around him, and rested his head on his shoulder. Dimly he heard his own voice in his head telling him that he was daft, that nothing in this world or under it was going to bring Aethan back, but at the time, reason no longer mattered. Daft or sane, he wanted to stay there with Aethan for a while, just a little while before they dumped him into a shallow grave on the battlefield. Although he was never conscious of falling asleep, all