Days of Air and Darkness - Katharine Kerr [138]
“Good,” Rhodry said. “So you’ve thought of something.”
Evandar laughed with a toss of his head, a gesture much like a horse tossing its mane, flung his arms into the air, too, as if he were a stallion, pawing the air with a laugh that turned to a whinny, and a toss of his head that did ripple his mane as his body seemed to unfold or stretch or swell—Rhodry never did quite see it happen, but all at once Evandar disappeared, and a golden stallion with a silver mane and tail pranced before them. With a snort and a flick of his tail, the stallion galloped away, turning into the herd, trotting and prancing, pausing to touch his nose to another’s here or rub companionably along a neck there. The men stood entranced and watched without a word as the stallion worked his way across the field, moving farther and farther away as the horse guards shouted and pointed, and the herd began to whicker and stamp.
“What in the name of all that’s holy?” Calonderiel whispered.
“I doubt me,” Rhodry said, “that any of our gods have aught to do with this.”
“What?”
“He’s a Guardian. Do you remember, years ago, the autumn that Oldana died? Well, he’s the Guardian I told you about then.”
“I do remember. And the mad spirit wanted your silver ring.”
“Just that. She’s the cause of all this trouble.”
The herd fell quiet and returned to their grazing. In his elven form, Evandar came jogging back to them. He paused, not in the least out of breath, and grinned at Rhodry.
“Call her back,” he said. “It’s perfectly safe.”
Before Calonderiel could order him to wait, Rhodry held up the ring and yelled for Arzosah. In a flap of black wings, she came gliding over the camp and settled nearby. A few horses raised their heads and whickered a greeting; the rest ignored her. Calonderiel laughed in a burst of nerves.
“There you are,” Evandar said. “Doubtless you have the only horses in the entire world who consider a dragon as harmless as a stable cat.” He swung round and glared at Arzosah. “But you must never kill and eat one. Do you hear me, Arzosah Sothy Lorezohaz?”
“I do, you miserable pink worm, I hear you perfectly well.”
“Good. Any that die in battle are yours. Never ever kill one yourself. It will break the dweomer.”
“I could figure that out,” she snarled. “Just because I was stupid enough to let you ensorcel me doesn’t mean I have no wits at all.”
They glared at each other until she looked away, muttering to herself.
“You’ll have to do the same for Drwmyc’s horses,” Rhodry said. “Once we catch up to him, I mean.”
“You speak true. We’d best be on our way. I’ve got a battle of my own brewing.”
“Now wait a moment,” Calonderiel broke in. “We can’t travel at night.”
“Oh, yes we can.” Rhodry flashed him a grin. “Or rather, it won’t be night where we’re going.”
Calonderiel looked at the dragon, then out to the herd, back to the dragon again.
“Well, I’m not inclined to argue with one of the Guardians,” he said at last. “Where’s Prince Dar? We’ll get the men packed up and ready for the road.”
“Good,” Evandar said. “My plan is this. I’ll take you into the lands of men, then sneak on ahead and settle things with Drwmyc’s horses before we bring the dragon among them.”
“Splendid.” Rhodry flashed him a grin. “Now that we know—oh, by every god in the sky!”
Calonderiel and Evandar were both looking at him, waiting no doubt for him to explain, but all at once he began to laugh his mad berserker’s chortle, howling and choking and laughing some more until Arzosah swung her head round and hissed.
“My apologies,” Rhodry gasped out. “But I’ve just realized why you had the omen about the dragon, Evandar. She’s a weapon in herself, all right, a knife at the Horse-kin’s throat.”
Arzosah understood first, rumbling and snorting in laughter, and one at a time the men joined in, while their enchanted horses grazed at peace, with barely a flick of their tails for the dragon in their midst.
As impatient as the combined army of men and dwarves