Darkspell - Katharine Kerr [44]
As merry as if she’d just heard a splendid jest, Gweniver trotted up to him.
“I got two,” she announced, crowing over it. “What’s so wrong, Ricco? You look frightened or suchlike.”
“Ye gods! The next time you ride into hopeless odds, at least take me with you! You little dolt! I never thought I’d see you alive again. I mean … well, uh … my lady.”
“I knew you’d have the sense to follow, and you did, didn’t you?”
The warband clustered round to stare at her in awe.
“Look at that,” Dagwyn said. “Her horse doesn’t even have a scratch on him.”
The men whispered among themselves, a superstitious ripple that was as much fear as awe.
“It was the Goddess,” she said. “She rode with me.”
In a flurry of whispered oaths, the men edged their horses back—but only a little way, because her god-touched power seemed to spread warmth like a fire. Ricyn had never seen a smile like hers, as tight and cold as if it were a smile carved on the face of a statue of a god. Yet at a familiar shout from behind them, her smile disappeared. The men parted to let Lord Dannyn through to the lady’s side.
“So your men saw a bit of sport, did they?” he said. “Did you lead that charge, Ricco? I hope to all the hells that she had the sense to stay out of it!”
The entire warband wheeled around, eyes flashing in rage, and mobbed him. When Dannyn’s hand went to his sword hilt, Ricyn drew.
“Get back!” Gweniver yelled. “Leave him be!”
Swearing under their breaths, they edged their horses back, except for Ricyn, who rode up to the lord’s side and made him a half bow, though his sword was still in hand.
“His lordship forgets that he speaks to a priestess. Me and my men most humbly beg that his lordship remember it from now on. My lady led that charge, my lord. We all saw her hold off four men before we reached her, and she killed two of them.”
White-faced, Dannyn swung Gweniver’s way.
“I wasn’t truly riding at your orders,” she said. “You may quibble with the Moon over questions of command if you wish. And as for you, Ricco, you fought like a fiend from hell yourself. I swear you’re half-a-berserker.”
When he realized that she spoke the truth, Ricyn felt caught by feelings he couldn’t sort out. He’d never been that kind of fighter before, preferring to mark his man well and pay strict attention to the strategy of things. It seemed to him that her Goddess had reached out and laid Her hands upon him, and he shuddered, suddenly cold.
A slender blond, as much of a grown boy as a man, Tieryn Cavydd laughed more than he talked, half-hysterical with his unexpected rescue. Over a hasty meal in his great hall, he told Gweniver and Dannyn the story at his table of honor, while the Cerrmor army sat on the floor for want of enough benches. His pregnant young wife sat beside him and listened, her food untouched before her.
“I’ve never known them to be so blasted bold,” Cavydd said. “We always have raids, well, you know that, but never this many. By the Lord of Hell, there were three hundred of them at my gates, at least, maybe four, and all at once. Then they left part of the army to keep me pinned and rode off. I was sure as sure they were heading for Morlyn, but if I’d sallied with only fifty men, we never would have lived to reach the town. I’ve been praying that some of my allies would get wind of it and come relieve me.”
“They’ve doubtless got their hands full,” Dannyn said. “Well, we’ll be riding north after them tomorrow.”
“I’ll have to leave men behind on fort guard, but I’ll ride with you myself, of course.”
“Not necessary and most unwise. They might swing back here to pick up the men they left on siege. I’ll leave fifty men to reinforce you.”
“It’s not going to be me and my warband,” Gweniver broke in. “Lord Dannyn may banish the idea from his mind.”
When he turned her way with an icy stare, Gweniver smiled, remembering the way her men had mobbed him on the field. Dannyn seemed to remember it as well.
“As my lady wishes,” he said. “Well, this bodes ill, Your Grace. Looks like Eldidd’s planning on pushing the western border hard