Days of Blood and Fire - Katharine Kerr [183]
In long wing strokes she flew, gliding on the air currents now and again to save her strength, toward the horizon where the yellowish-brown smoke fumed up and swirled. Underneath her flight the grassy plain gave way to rock and a rise of barren hill. With one last swoop she found herself wheeling over the battle plain, where two armies faced one another, the glittering silver swords of the Bright Court, the black enameled mail and spears of the Dark. In the little space between them Lord Vulpine sat on his black stallion, his sword raised high as he taunted his brother.
“I have her, your precious woman!” he was yelling. “Harm me, and she dies!”
His helmet tucked under one arm, his sword still in its sheath, Evandar sat dead-still, like a statue bound to a saddle.
“Heal my lands!” Lord Vulpine bellowed. “And maybe I’ll give your elven bitch back to you. You’ll never find her now, not where I’ve kenneled her.”
Still his brother said not a word, merely stared, while behind him the Bright Court raged and swore, waving swords and crying vengeance. At last Evandar moved, but it was only to turn in the saddle and shout them into silence.
“Think well upon this demand!” Lord Vulpine snarled. “When the sun rises on the morrow, I’ll return to this place to hear your answer.”
With a smack of his sword he made his horse rear, then swung round and led his host away, all of them howling with laughter, screeching insults, gloating and reveling in their temporary victory. In his flaunt Lord Vulpine never noticed a plain gray linnet circling the field and waiting till at last his army rode out of sight, and the dust settled on the dead brown plain.
Unmoving again, Evandar watched them go, while his court urged their horses up round him, calling out, begging him to lead them after into battle. With a little cry Dallandra swooped down. The court burst out cheering, laughing and waving in their turn, as she circled Evandar’s horse once, landed before him, and transformed herself into elven shape. He stared at her for a long moment, saying nothing. All at once she realized that he wept.
“My love,” he whispered. “Are you truly free?”
“I am. Did you think they could hold me?”
He tossed back his head in a howl of berserk laughter that reminded her of Rhodry Maelwaedd, then kicked one foot free of his stirrup and reached down his hand. When she mounted behind him, he twisted round in the saddle and gave her one quick kiss.
“Vengeance first!” He turned again, holding out his hand, grasping from the air his silver horn. “After them!”
The court answered his cascade of silver notes with a war cry. Yelling, waving swords, they galloped across the battle plain, where far ahead, warned by the clamor, the Dark Court swung to meet them. Evandar raised the silver horn and blew the command to hold their ground and form ranks. In a milling mob his warriors pulled their horses to a halt, howling their disappointment, while in front of them the army of the Dark Court did the same.
“Brother!” Evandar called out. “What do you think of this, little brother? I have my woman back, don’t I now?”
Lord Vulpine screamed and turned to flee, but too late. Evandar flung up one hand and made a circling motion widdershins in the air. The ground beneath the Dark Court shuddered and began to split open, with a crack like breaking sticks but so loud it seemed an entire forest snapped. Round in a circle the widening fissure raced, ringing Lord Vulpine and all his men, penning them inside a vast ditch. Dust plumed, rocks and clods flew and fell, the Dark Court shrieked and begged for mercy as the very earth under them pitched and buckled. Horses fell, kicking and neighing; the warriors plunged to the ground and clung to dirt with fingers and claws while the Bright Court laughed and hooted.
Evandar lowered his hand and let it rest on the