Daggerspell - Katharine Kerr [146]
Gradually he became aware of the noise outside. It built on the edge of his mind for a long time before it became insistent enough to take his attention. Men were shouting in anger, running back and forth outside, and horses nickered as they trotted past. It had to be an attack. Loddlaen got to his feet just as Corbyn threw back the tent flap.
“There you are!” Corbyn snapped. “Help me, by the hells! Don’t lurk in here like a sick hound!”
“Watch your tongue when you speak to me! What’s so wrong?”
“Cenydd and Cinvan are trying to pull their men out. They want to desert the rebellion.”
With an oath, Loddlaen followed him out. He was terrified, but he knew that he could do naught to prevent them, now that the darkness had deserted him.
Nevyn sat on the ground in the shade of the wagon. Since his eyes were closed and his shoulders slumped, the servants apparently thought that the old man was having a little nap, because they spoke in whispers whenever they came near him. They could have shouted aloud for all that it would have disturbed his trained concentration, because rather than sleeping, he was meditating. In his mind he held the image of a six-pointed star, a red triangle and a blue intertwined, and used it the way a clumsier dweomerman would have used a scrying stone. In the center of the star images came and went, mental reflections from the astral plane, which embraces the etheric the way the etheric embraces the physical. There, thought-forms and images have a life of their own, and it holds memories of every event that has ever happened on the planes below.
Through this vast treasure-house Nevyn searched, looking for traces of the dark master who had become an immediate and pressing enemy. Since the event was so recent, it was easy for Nevyn to bring up the images of the last battle, a confusing, flickering, overlapping mob of pictures. At last he sorted through and found Cullyn, fighting desperately with the squad around him. Nevyn froze the picture in his mind, then used it as a seed to let other images gather round it, just as a bit of dust in the air is the seed for a drop of rain. Finally he saw what he was looking for. Flickering into the center of the star came a presence, a certain blackness, hovering far on the etheric over the battle. When Nevyn tried to bring it closer, it vanished. The dark master had hidden his tracks well.
Nevyn broke off the meditation in something like irritation. He hadn’t expected to discover much, but he’d had hopes that way. He got up and stretched, wondering what tack to try next, when he saw Aderyn, running full tilt back to camp and heading for the tents of the noble-born. Obviously Aderyn had important news, and Nevyn hurried after him.
Rhodry was sitting with Sligyn and Peredyr in front of Sligyn’s tent when Aderyn arrived.
“My lords, Corbyn’s broken camp, and he’s marching north. I found him a good ten miles away.”
“Ah, curse his balls!” Rhodry clambered to his feet. “What’s he doing, running for his dun?”
“It looks that way, and here, there’s only about a hundred sound men with him. I saw only two blazons—Corbyn’s green and tan, and a red shield with a black arrow.”
“Nowec’s men,” Sligyn joined in. “So his other allies have deserted, eh? That’s the best news I’ve had in many a day.”
“Then he’s bolting for his dun sure enough,” Rhodry said. “We’ve got to catch him. Cursed if I’ll have him suing for peace now, and we’ll never take Dun Bruddlyn. Here, if we leave the baggage train behind, we can overtake him late today.”
“Normally I’d agree with that,” Peredyr said. “But Loddlaen will know what we’re up to. Corbyn will have the time to pick a strong position, and there we’ll be, charging with exhausted horses.”
Rhodry felt like cursing him, but it was true.
“Well and good, then. We’ll follow him along today, and try to catch him on the morrow.” Then he noticed Nevyn, standing nearby and listening. “Here, good sir, you and Aderyn truly should ride near me at the head of the line