Days of Air and Darkness - Katharine Kerr [136]
“He’s basically just congratulating them for coming to themselves so quickly,” Garin whispered to Rhodry. “And they deserve the praise, I must say. I—ye gods. Who’s that?”
“Evandar!” Rhodry snapped. “I might have known.”
Grinning in utter self-satisfaction, Evandar came strolling up to join them while the dwarven axmen gawked and swore. The Guardian was wearing the most peculiar lot of armor that Rhodry had ever seen. On his head, he had a high silver helm, crested with spikes of the same metal, while the visor, made of gold, sported a dragonish snout. His breastplate, silver again, grew more spikes, but under it he wore naught more than a tunic, judging by his sleeveless arms, guarded only by a pair of black leather vambraces. His legs, too, were bare except for high black boots, also spiked in such a way that it was a wonder he could walk without tripping. He did wear a short affair of silver plate and chains to protect his manhood, though Rhodry doubted if anyone could have sat down in such a thing. He carried a sword, enormously long and curved, with bites taken out of the blade here and there and jewels in the hilt.
The dwarven army burst out laughing. Rhodry trotted forward and grabbed Evandar’s arm before he could turn them into something foul.
“May I ask why they greet me so rudely?” Evandar snarled.
“You look a proper sight, that’s why. Here, you’re not planning on joining the war in that—that—those—things, are you?”
With his lower lip stuck out, Evandar surveyed his costume.
“I thought it was rather grand,” he said at last.
“Very grand. Splendid. But you can’t fight in it.”
“Oh, very well.” All at once Evandar laughed. “I accept your guidance.”
When the Guardian waved one hand in the air, his form shimmered and wavered, then solidified again to reveal him clothed in proper brigga, shirt, padding, and mail, with a broadsword in his hand as well, though all the metal portions were made of silver and some sort of black enamel work rather than steel.
“How’s this?” Evandar said.
“Much better. Now, would you mind explaining?” Rhodry gestured with his arm at the plain. “Where are we?”
“In my own country at the battle plain, where we may find the mother of all roads. It would take our good ax-men here a long time to march to Cengarn, and they could well be ambushed on the road again, so I’m taking a hand. I can join them up with Gwerbret Drwmyc and his men in but a few minutes, off to the south of Cengarn. They can march together.”
Garin stepped forward and bowed.
“For that, good sir, you have my profound thanks,” the envoy said. “And will you be fighting with us from now?”
“I can’t, alas, not just yet. I’ll rejoin you as soon as I can, but let us not forget Alshandra.”
“True spoken,” Rhodry said. “You’re the only one who can defeat her. Am I right about that?”
“I wouldn’t know, precisely, since I do not know every being that exists in every world of the vast and uncharted universe.” Evandar paused for a grin. “But if I can find her, and if I can trap her and make her stand to face me, then—and these are several ifs of great import, mind—then I can no doubt put an end to her meddling.”
“I’ll pray the gods assist you,” Garin said, bowing.
“The gods have very little to do with me or mine, alas. But before I go off to hunt, I’ll finish the muster. One thing at a time, Dalla always says.”
“Finish it?” Rhodry said.
“Prince Daralanteriel’s bringing us archers. I’m about to give them a bit of a surprise and shorten their journey considerably. Come with me, Rhodry. First, let me send the men of Lin Serr off on their way, and then you come with me to fetch the prince. There’s room on Arzosah’s back for the likes of me.”
“What?” the dragon roared. “Carry you on my back? You slimy, foul, abominable, greasy, loathsome—”
“Enough!” Rhodry held up the ring. “Carry him you will.”
She moaned, flopping her head back to implore the sky, but in the end,