Darkwalker on Moonshae - Douglas Niles [115]
The shadow shimmered, or perhaps it was the moonlight itself that wavered. Then the swallow was gone, and where it had been stood the plump form of an elderly woman.
“There, my puppy,” she said, stroking the bloody head. “Such a brave dog.”
Genna Moonsinger called the power of the goddess, and brought it welling from within her heart, flowing through her fingertips into the still form of the great moorhound. Slowly, the long slash in the animal’s side closed. The broken skull mended, and the dog’s shallow breathing grew deeper and stronger. The long, shaggy tail slowly thumped against the ground.
With a low whimper, Canthus rolled stiffly onto his belly and tried to lift his head from the ground. He gave up quickly, when throbbing pain resulted, but moved his tail slightly as a gesture of enthusiasm. He looked up at the great druid, then his eyes closed and he fell asleep.
“Good dog,” Genna whispered, smiling sadly. “You sleep now. We’ll talk tomorrow.”
Canthus’s low, steady breathing was his only response. Sadly, she stood, wishing she could simply leave the dog to return to his master.
But she needed him.
*****
Six sister knights cantered beside Corwell Road, as the little army marched along. The armor of the knights was tarnished and dented, and only three of them still held lances. The white horses were mottled with grime and blood. One of the steeds had a bloodstained bandage wrapped across its shoulder.
Still, the sister knights rode proudly, as if their dents and dirt were badges of honor. The outriders broke into pairs, and spread out to the flanks of the column.
Tristan sat upon Avalon, watching the long column wind away from him toward Corwell. The dwarves trooped steadily past him, three score minus eight that had fallen upon Freeman’s Down. They marched stoically. Some of the whiskered faces turned up to regard the prince as they passed, but Tristan could read nothing in these gazes. Finellen, bringing up the rear, plodded grimly past without looking up. Yet, they marched to Corwell to fight in a human war.
Gavin stepped to the prince’s side while the company of the Eastern Cantrevs marched past, five hundred strong. Another hundred would remain, forever, at Freeman’s Down.
“Any word of pursuit?” asked the smith.
“Three hours past dawn, and they still haven’t broken camp!” exclaimed Tristan.
“Good. These Ffolk could not wage another battle now.”
The fighters of the Eastern Cantrevs walked past steadily. Fatigue and pain were writ on the duststreaked faces. Yet many straightened their shoulders and wore looks of pride as they passed the prince and the smith.
“Soon, they will have no choice. But by then we should have the companies of Caer Corwell behind us!”
“Perhaps,” muttered Gavin, with a long look to the east. He nodded curtly to the prince, and stepped back onto the road as the last of his company passed. His shoulders, too, were straight as he marched toward Corwell.
Tristan spurred his stallion forward, and Avalon galloped along the side of the road, past Gavin’s company, and then Finellen’s, until he reached a stretch of clear road. The white stallion leaped a stone fence and landed in the road, stretching low as his rider gave him his freedom to run.
For a minute they thundered down the road, and then the prince saw a pair of horses before him, grazing quietly in a small meadow. He reined in beside them and saw Daryth and Pawldo lying in the shade of a broad oak tree. Swinging down from the saddle, Tristan released Avalon to graze, and stretched out beside his companions.
“Where’s Canthus?” Daryth asked.
“He fell, fighting those Riders,” Tristan said, fighting back tears. “I searched for his body, but found nothing before dark.”
“Damn them!” cursed the Calishite, spitting. “That hound was worth five of those horsemen!”
“And that’s nearly how many he took with him,” exaggerated the prince.
“We should have taken them again!” growled Pawldo, looking to the east. “Then they’d not be following us!”
“I wish we could have,” said Tristan, sincerely. “Still, we hurt them, badly,