Days of Air and Darkness - Katharine Kerr [137]
Some days before, Gwerbret Drwmyc had led his army of vassals and allies out of Dun Trebyc and started the long march north to Cengarn. With close to twelve hundred men, a herd of extra horses, a line of provision carts, servants, and suchlike, the army could only travel some fifteen miles a day. They’d just reached Tryv Hael and picked up another five hundred riders, along with their provisions, when the dwarves joined them as well. Since he was riding at the rear of the march, guarding the supplies and breathing dust as befitted a silver dagger, Yraen only heard of these newest—and strangest—allies through the camp gossip.
“I’d heard tales of the Mountain People,” Renydd said, “but I didn’t know they were true.”
“I’ve met some of them,” Yraen said. “They’re good men to have on your side. Not so good to have against you. How many are there?”
“Close to seven hundred, my Lord Erddyr tells me. They’re camped near the gwerbret’s personal guard.”
Since Yraen didn’t realize that Garin, whom he knew, was among the dwarven axmen, he didn’t bother seeking the dwarves out. Enough men were gawking at the contingent as it was. When the army set out again on the morrow, the axmen marched in the van, while Yraen resumed his place at the rear.
On dragonback, Rhodry and Evandar flew over a misty country, where water tendrils twined silver round hummocks of green. On those they saw gardens, growing beside huts, or boats drawn up on sandy shores, but never a living soul, whether corporeal or not. Arzosah seemed to know the way. She flew fast and straight until they reached another cloud-gate, hanging white over a slow river. With a curl of her wings, the dragon ducked down, swooped through, and emerged into twilight over the Westlands. In the last of the sunlight, the grass stretched out, a green unbroken sea. Far ahead, like an islet of light, campfires gleamed.
“That’ll be the muster,” Evandar called out. “Take us there.”
Yet in the end, they walked to the elven camp. When Arzosah flew over the herd of horses tethered out to graze, and fortunately she was flying fairly high still, the horses smelled her and panicked. Rearing and neighing, plunging and kicking, they pulled at their tethers in a frantic effort to escape. Dragons may be rare, but horses know a meat eater when they smell one. Evandar burst out laughing, but Rhodry leaned forward and screamed orders.
“Land over there! By the stream and well downwind!”
Arzosah settled to the grass a good half-mile away.
“You stay here until I call,” Rhodry said. “Evandar, you and I have a walk ahead of us. Now this is a nasty little complication. How can I travel with the army? She’ll panic every horse who gets a nose full of her scent.”
“I’ll think on it. There must be some enchantment I can work.”
In the twilight, they hiked through the grass, rustling tall around them. By the time they reached the camp, the archers had recaptured those few horses which had got free and settled down the rest, but no one seemed inclined to forgive the cause of the trouble. Rhodry found himself surrounded by a pack of angry warriors, all shouting in Elvish at once. He shouted back while Evandar laughed, making things worse, until Calonderiel shoved his way through the mob.
“I should have known it would be you,” Calonderiel snarled. “Where in the name of the Dark Sun herself did you find a dragon? More to the point, why did you find a dragon? And what in hell are you doing bringing it out here?”
“Ye gods, I haven’t seen you in years, and this is all the welcome I get?”
Calonderiel laughed, throwing one arm round Rhodry’s shoulders.
“I’ve managed to forget my manners, sure enough. Here, let me guess. There’s dweomer mixed up in this.”
“More than either of us have ever seen before, and considering some of the things we’ve seen, that’s a good bit.” Rhodry glanced at Evandar. “Care to explain further?”
“I never explain. But I will announce