Darkspell - Katharine Kerr [122]
“A silver dagger. There are bandits in the pass.”
The gates creaked open, and a man from the night watch grabbed her arm and led her in to safety.
“We’re just going to wait here?” Seryl said.
“It’s for the best,” Rhodry said. “We can fight with our backs to the cliff.”
Nodding agreement, Seryl stared at him like a starving child stares at its father, sure against all reason that Da will find food even when all hope is lost. In the gray dawn light they circled the camp while Rhodry fought with his grief. He was sure that Jill was dead. His own death he could face calmly, but not hers. His one comfort was knowing that soon he would have a chance to avenge her by taking a few of the bandits with him to the Otherlands. The camp was fortified as well as it could be. The mule packs were heaped up in a rough wall with the muleteers behind, their backs to the cliff, the mules tethered nearby. Rhodry repeated his orders. After he and the other two swordsmen were killed fighting on horseback, the muleteers were to panic the stock and send the herd into the midst of the bandits. The confusion would probably bring a few down.
“And fight to the death,” he finished up. “Because you won’t get mercy.”
Rhodry, Lidyc, and Myn mounted, then sat on their horses in front of the improvised barricade. Although the lads were pale, they were holding steady, determined to die like men. Slowly the sun brightened; slowly the minutes crept by. Rhodry realized that he was impatient, wanting to get his dying over with and eager to join his beloved in the Otherlands. Finally they heard hoofbeats and the jingle of tack, the sound of many men riding hard toward them. With a flick of his sword, Rhodry led the others out to meet them. At a fast trot the warband turned round the bend in the road, twenty men, mailed, mounted on good horses, on their shields the red-and-gold blazon of Cwm Pecl. Rhodry heard the camp behind him explode with cheers and hysterical laughter, but he said nothing, his heart too full to speak now that he knew his Jill was safe. The warband’s captain trotted over to him.
“Well, silver dagger,” he said with a grin. “Sounds as if everyone’s glad to see us.”
“I’ve never seen a man I liked more on first meeting, truly. When did the other silver dagger reach you?”
“About an hour past midnight, and he’s a tough lad, for all that he looks about fourteen. He was practically dropping where he stood, but he kept saying he wanted to ride back with us.”
“He’s like that, true enough.” Rhodry was more than willing to let them go on thinking Jill a lad. “Did you bring a chirurgeon? We’ve got wounded men.” He pulled off his helm and pushed his mail back from his face.
“We did, at that.” Suddenly the captain stared at him. “Well, my lord, I mean.”
“Ah, by a pig’s cock! So you’ve seen me before, have you?”
“Many a time, my lord.”
“Never call me that again. My name’s Rhodry and naught else.”
The captain nodded in a silent sympathy that was infuriating. Rhodry turned his horse and led the warband back to camp, but as he was dismounting, the captain hurried over to hold his bridle for him.
“Stop it! I meant what I said.”
“Well and good, then. Rhodry it is, and naught else.”
“That’s better. Here, how far is it to your patrol station? I’m going to have a word of praise for our young silver dagger.”
“Just about five hours’ ride on a fresh horse, but the lad won’t be there when we get back. I sent him down to Dun Hiraedd, you see, with a message asking for reinforcements. He said he’d leave at dawn.”
Rhodry swore aloud. The captain was obviously still thinking of him as Lord Rhodry Maelwaedd, because he hurried to explain.
“I had to bring every man I had with me. These scum almost never attack the king’s caravans, because they know we’ll be out in force if they do, so somewhat cursed strange is afoot here.”
Rhodry was hardly listening. Jill was out on the road alone, and she knew even less than he did about the danger stalking her.
“She just slipped out of my grasp,” Sarcyn said. “I was only a mile