Daggerspell - Katharine Kerr [150]
And yet, in the end, Corbyn escaped them. They came to a stubbled field, where they saw provision carts, some ten wounded horses, and fourteen wounded men, dumped there by their lord to live or die with no help from him. Corbyn had left everything behind that might slow him down and was making a run for Dun Bruddlyn.
“Ah, horseshit, and a pile of it!” Rhodry snarled. “We’ll never catch them now.” For a long moment he sat slumped in the saddle, then looked up with a sigh. “Well, no help for it, huh? Let’s go see what we can do for these poor bastards. The baggage train and the chirurgeons will catch up to us soon enough.”
As she dismounted, Jill was thinking that she’d never met a lord as honorable as he. Together they walked over to the improvised camp, where wounded men lay shivering in wet blankets on the ground. Loddlaen’s storm had swept over them, too. One man stood, leaning against a cart, his head wrapped in a bloody bandage and his right arm splinted. When he saw Rhodry, two thin trails of tears ran down his face.
“What’s your name, lad?” Rhodry said. “And how long have you been here?”
“Lanyc, my lord, and since last night. We all camped here last night, and then they left us.”
“And did your lord give you any choice in the matter?”
“None, my lord, or well, none to the others. I said I’d stay with them. At least I can stand, and I’ve been trying to feed everybody.” Lanyc paused, looking at Rhodry with eyes half drunk with pain. “It was the sorcerer, my lord. Lord Corbyn never would have deserted us, but Loddlaen made him. I saw it. He ensorceled him. Ah, ye gods, I’d rather be your prisoner than shut up with that stinking sorcerer.”
“Ye gods,” Jill said. “I don’t blame you a bit.”
At the sound of her voice, Lanyc sobbed under his breath.
“A lass. A lass with a sword.”
Then he burst out weeping.
The baggage train creaked up about an hour later. Rhodry set the two remaining chirurgeons to doing what they could for Corbyn’s men, but Aderyn joined in the council of war. The lords stood despondently in a circle and looked at the muddy ground.
“Well, that’s torn it,” Sligyn said. “Might as well ride on and invest him anyway, eh? It’s the honor of the thing.”
“True enough,” Rhodry said. “Ah, by the hells, he’s probably got messengers on their way to Rhys right now, begging him to intervene. It’s going to hurt when my ugly brother calls me off like a hound from the kill.”
“Indeed, my lord?” Aderyn broke in. “What if the messengers never reach him?”
All the lords turned to look at this frail old man who held power beyond what they could even dream of.
“Loddlaen has to be stopped, and now. Do you think Gwerbret Rhys is going to believe us if we tell him that Loddlaen incited this rebellion with dweomer? Of course not. And then Loddlaen will get off lightly in the malover by paying a blood price for the man he killed back in our lands, and he’ll be free to work more mischief.”
“That’s all well and good,” Rhodry said. “But even if we catch the messengers, they’ll testify against us to Rhys unless we kill them. Cursed if I’ll kill a pair of helpless men.”
“Never would I want you to,” Aderyn said with a small smile. “Leave them to me, lord cadvridoc. I won’t harm a hair on their heads, but Rhys will never get Corbyn’s message. I promise you that.”
• • •
The line of carts carrying the wounded moved slowly and stopped often to let the men rest. At noon, they lingered for a long time while Nevyn and the chirurgeon did what they could. Nevyn had just found time to get himself something to eat when he felt Aderyn’s mind calling to him. He walked a little ways to a tiny brook and used the sun dancing on the water as a focus. Aderyn’s image built up quickly.
“Did you catch Corbyn?” Nevyn thought to him.
“We didn’t, blast him. He’s going to stand a siege in his dun. Quick—tell me somewhat.