Darkspell - Katharine Kerr [165]
“Whist, whist! We’re on our way.”
After Sarcyn put the precious books into a saddlebag, he mounted and rode out fast, turning the horse away from the main road into the hills. Ever since they’d moved into the farm, he’d been planning escape routes. He’d gone about a quarter mile when he heard the jingle of tack that meant the gwerbret and his men were coming. Quickly he dismounted and held his horse’s mouth shut as the jingle grew louder, passed him, then slowly died away.
“So much for that dolt,” he whispered.
Yet as he remounted, he knew that the danger was far from over. Once the Brotherhood learned of Alastyr’s fate, assassins would come seeking him—and they were already in Deverry. He would have to stay on the run, always hiding, moving constantly, while he studied the books and learned the ways of power. Maybe he could keep ahead of the Hawks just long enough to garner enough magic to save his life. Maybe. It was the only hope he had.
As soon as Nevyn went into his trance, Jill moved back among the trees while Rhodry stayed close to the old man. The pale moonlight shone on the stream and turned the white birches into ghost trees. In the dweomer-touched silence, she was painfully aware of the sound of her own breathing. Nevyn lay so still that she kept wanting to kneel down beside him to see if he was alive. All at once she heard a sound behind her and spun, her sword raised and ready.
“Only a rabbit,” Rhodry said.
Since she knew he could see in the dark, she turned back, keeping her eyes on the crest of the hill, looking for a movement that would mean enemies stirring in the night. Suddenly Nevyn moaned. Jill stepped forward just as he flopped over onto his side. With a muddled thought that he’d been poisoned, she flung herself down beside him. He half sat up, then flopped sideways, but all the time his eyes were shut tight and his breathing was slow and deliberate. He kicked out, narrowly missing Rhodry, then heaved himself onto his stomach with a scuttling motion like a crab that carried him a foot away. When his head barely missed a rock, Jill grabbed him by the shoulders and tried to pin him, but his trance strength overwhelmed her. Easily he flung her off and pitched to one side. Swearing, Rhodry flung himself down to help.
For what seemed a grotesque eternity they wrestled with Nevyn’s body as he twisted, jerked, and flung his arms about. Once he landed Rhodry a hard blow on the jaw, but though Rhodry swore even louder, he hung on. Jill could only pray to the Goddess to keep away any enemies that might be approaching. At last Nevyn went limp, and she could just see him smile in the moonlight. His mouth worked as if he were speaking; then he lay utterly still.
“Oh, ye gods,” she said. “Is he going to die?”
Just then he opened his eyes and grinned at her.
“What have I been doing?” Nevyn said. “Flopping?”
“Like a fish on a riverbank.” Rhodry let go his hold.
“It happens now and then in trances.” The old man sat up, looking around as if he were a bit dazed. “Did one of you kill Alastyr’s body?”
“We didn’t,” Jill said. “We stayed with you.”
“Then Blaen and his men must be at the farm already. No time to explain. We’ve got to hurry.”
And yet they reached the farm just at the same time as did Blaen and the warband. At the head of his men the gwerbret trotted over to them. In the gray dawn light he looked profoundly annoyed.
“Thanks be to every god that you’re safe,” Blaen snapped. “We scoured the hills for you.”
“I owe you an apology, Your Grace,” Nevyn said. “But the battle’s already over.”
Camdel heard them all ride into the farmyard. He went tense, every muscle in his body spasming in panic when he realized that he wasn’t going to starve to death but be rescued. With a moan he heaved himself to his knees, the ankle chain clanking. It was just long enough for him to stand and take a few steps. Lying on the kitchen table was a long-bladed knife, which would do to slit his throat or his wrists if only