Kushiel's Justice - Jacqueline Carey [152]
"Take the riders!" I shouted. "Take the riders, and head for the gates!
And then they were on us, and we clashed.
Within a heartbeat, the melee was a complete mess. Briclaedh's men were whooping, uttering wild war-cries; so were Clunderry's. Tattooed Cruithne faces were everywhere, and in the faint light I was hard put to tell friend from foe. 'Twas a stroke of dubious luck that my unmarked face made me a clear target. I didn't have to worry about striking a blow against one of Clunderry's men; I was surrounded by Briclaedh's. Dropping the Bastard's knotted reins, I guided him with my knees, turning in a tight circle and laying about me on both sides, sword in my right hand.
"D'Angeline!" Leodan mab Nonna came alongside me; I knew him by his thick brows, which met over his nose. We locked swords, swaying. "What the hell are you doing?”
"Claiming insult," I grunted. "Not a proper warrior, am I?”
In the moonlight, I saw him smile fiercely. "Ah, well.”
Wind whistled on my other side. Trusting to training, good hearing, and blind luck, I swung my left arm in an arc and felt a blow glance off my vambrace.
"Don't kill him!" Leodan shouted in alarm. "Hostage, hostage!”
I dug my heels into the Bastard's sides and he plunged free. Somewhere in the midst of pandemonium, I swear I heard Urist snicker. Half of Leodan's men were injured or unhorsed; the other half were pursuing Clunderry's fleeing riders. Urist was among them; I must have imagined the snicker. The first wave of Briclaedh's foot-racing warriors arrived, panting, to find me alone and abandoned.
Leodan mab Nonna raised his heavy brows. "Take him.”
Once more, I turned the Bastard in a circle, swearing with fury. There were too many of them, and now that I knew they meant to take me alive, I was loathe to strike killing blows. I flailed at the Cruithne with the flat of my blade while they ducked and dodged, tattooed faces grinned up at me, tattooed hands reaching to grab at my legs, my sword-belt, my left arm, dragging me from the saddle.
The Bastard squealed. I kicked my feet free of the stirrups and let them take me. I landed on my back atop two men and used the unexpected momentum to tear free of their grip, somersaulting backward and coming up in a crouch, sword at the ready, facing a semicircle of unmounted men.
"Nice trick." Leodan glanced away, distracted. "The horse, lads, the horse! I want that spotted horse, too.”
They all looked, and so did I. Unlike Urist and his men, the Bastard hadn't deserted me. He stood with legs splayed and ears flat, snaking his neck and snapping at the Briclaedh warrior who was attempting to grab his bridle.
"Oh, the hell you do!" I growled.
Without thinking, I shoved my sword into its scabbard, turned my back on my assailants, and charged the fellow attempting to catch the Bastard. I tackled him around the waist and brought him down with a thud. We rolled around in the mire of the cow pasture, grappling with one another. I'd learned to wrestle in Siovale. I came up on top and punched him hard in the mouth, feeling his teeth break the skin of my knuckles. He gaped at me, bloody-mouthed.
Most of Leodan's men were hooting and laughing, jeering at their comrade, paying scant heed to me. The rest were chasing the Bastard, arms spread wide, trying to form a circle to enclose him. He evaded them with short dashes, snorting with alarm.
D'Angelines may be vain, but even we admit that the Tsingani are the best horse-breeders and -trainers in the world; and the Bastard was Tsingani-bred and -trained. He might be a bastard, but he was my Bastard. I got to my feet, stuck two fingers smeared with cow-dung in my mouth, and whistled sharply.
The Bastard's ears pricked.
"Oh, hell," Leodan muttered.
Bursting past his would-be captors, the Bastard came at a canter. He barely slowed for me, but it was enough. I reached up to grab the pommel, swinging myself astride by main force. Leodan's men were scattered, unmounted and unprepared. I settled myself in the saddle and turned the