Daggerspell - Katharine Kerr [129]
Rhodry howled like a banshee and went on parrying with half a shield. All at once, the horse to his right screamed with that ghastly half-human sound that horses make only in agony and reared straight up. As it came down, stumbling, Caenrydd killed its rider from behind. Amyr was right behind him, swinging like a fiend, and Rhodry’s two men were through.
“My lord!” Cullyn yelled. “Follow me out!”
Rhodry swung his horse around as Caenrydd and Amyr fell in behind him, but he refused to follow any man. He spurred his horse up beside Cullyn, ducked under a slash, and slashed back at the enemy on his right. The blow missed the fellow’s clumsy parry and caught him on the ribs, making him grunt and sway in the saddle. Rhodry slashed back from the other side and knocked the dazed rider off his horse to fall under the feet of a comrade’s horse beside him. When that horse reared, disrupting the mob on one side, Rhodry and his men could begin to move forward, cutting their way out of the mob at the same time as the rest of the Cannobaen warband tried to cut its way in.
It was a slow thing, forcing their horses ahead by sheer will, leaning, slashing, dodging, always striking at the nearest enemy while Corbyn’s men tried to parry Cullyn and strike for Rhodry. The silver dagger fought silently, looking utterly bored as he struck and parried with a terrifying ease, as if he were some natural force, a storm wind blowing among this screaming, cursing mob.
They were almost out when someone pushed in past Caenrydd in the rear and slashed Rhodry’s horse hard. With a scream, the gelding reared. Rhodry knew it would never come down alive; he slipped his feet from the stirrups and threw the remains of his shield as it fell. He flung himself over his horse’s neck and rolled, but with calm clarity he knew that he was doomed. A hoof kicked him in the middle of the back, and for a moment he couldn’t breathe. All around him he heard screams and war cries; all he could see were the legs of horses. Grunting in pain, he pulled himself up to a kneel and twisted out of the way just in time to avoid a kick to his head. He heard Cullyn screaming at someone to pull back, and only then did he realize that he was under the hooves of his own men’s horses. Another kick came his way and grazed his shoulder.
All at once hands grabbed him and pulled him to his feet. Rhodry twisted around and landed against Cullyn’s shoulder just as a terrified horse bucked up and nearly fell on the pair of them. Cullyn dragged Rhodry back just in time and shoved him against the side of his horse.
“Can you mount?” Cullyn yelled.
Gasping for breath, Rhodry hauled himself into the saddle. Ahead of him he saw his own men cutting hard, driving the enemy back. The horse danced and shuddered, but Rhodry got it under control, then kicked his feet free of the stirrups to let Cullyn mount behind him. Cullyn put one long arm round his waist and took the reins. Over the shouting, a silver horn rang out a retreat. Rhodry’s first thought was that his side had lost the battle; then he remembered that this time, he was the cadvridoc and that the horn had to be Corbyn’s. The enemies around them fell back and fled as the battle press broke up.
“Caenrydd!” Rhodry howled. “Sound the call to stand!”
Cullyn’s arm tightened slightly around his waist.
“My lord? Caenrydd’s dead.”
For a moment Rhodry’s mind simply refused to understand.
“Rhodry.” Cullyn gave him a shake. “Sound the call.”
Rhodry drew the horn from his belt, but he merely held it. Finally Cullyn grabbed it from him and blew the signal to pull back. Rhodry wiped a scatter of tears away on the back of his gauntlet. Only then did he realize that he was doubled