Kushiel's Scion - Jacqueline Carey [120]
Despite the clamor, they found game.
We all heard the huntsmen's horns sound in the distance. Heels were clapped to horses' flanks and a mad, scrambling dash ensued.
There were two of them; a pair of young bucks engaged in contest. By the time the royal party arrived, they had bolted in opposite directions.
"That way!" I shouted, pointing toward the nearest.
"Celeste, hunt!" Alais cried.
What followed was pandemonium. Half the party went left, half right. The Queen's huntsmen moved to circle round and drive the quarry back to us. A laughing Sidonie and half of her lot had a few paces on us, but we were ranging close behind. Before us, the fleeing buck gained ground, light-dappled as it passed through shafts of sun; but Celeste was hot in pursuit, a low, grey shadow. For a time, we lost sight of them, but we heard the huntsmen's horns, merry and gallant, urging us onward.
And then the sound changed to an alarum.
I saw the glade.
I saw the Master of the Hunt waving his arms, his face pale and terrified.
I didn't see a deer.
It was a boar. It was a damned monstrous boar, the kind the veterans of the battle of Bryn Gorrydum talk about. It was massive and irritable, and it snorted as we straggled to a halt, lowering its head and presenting its tusks, its small eyes glinting.
"Alais, get behind me," I said quietly.
"Celeste," she whispered, strained.
The wolfhound was braced and snarling, her hackles standing on end. By some fluke of fate, she had positioned herself in front of Sidonie. The Dauphine sat motionless atop her fractious young mare, her face drawn and white. Her mount trembled beneath her, hooves shifting in the soft loam.
"Your highness, don't move," said the Master of the Hunt.
She nodded stiffly.
Out of the corner of my eye, I saw Gilot and Ti-Philippe dismount, drawing their swords. Haifa dozen other men did the same, Maslin included. None of them had boar-spears.
The boar scraped the earth with one trotter, whuffled, and charged. It was like a small mountain in motion.
"Celeste!" Alais screamed.
The wolfhound leapt aside, snapping at the boar as it passed. The Dauphine's mare let out a terrified squeal and bolted. Branches broke and crackled as it fled, and the boar rounded for another turn, eyeing us all.
"Guard Alais," I said briefly to Hugues.
He gave grim nod. "Go!"
I turned the Bastard in Sidonie's direction and heeled him hard. "Yah!"
He answered; ah, Elua! I gave him his head and crouched low over his neck. The trees were a blur; everything was a blur. I clamped down hard with my thighs and silently thanked the Tsingani for breeding such a magnificent mount—and yes, Nicola L'Envers y Aragon for gifting him to me.
"Sidonie!" I cried, catching sight of her.
She was upright in the saddle, sawing at her runaway mare's reins. There was a massive deadfall in their path. Coming upon them from behind, I saw her mare check hard, planting her forelegs and refusing the jump; I saw Sidonie soar over her head, falling hard on the far side of the deadfall. I hauled on the reins, veering to the right. "Please," I whispered. "Oh, please!"
The Bastard gathered his haunches and leapt.
He tucked his striped hooves as neatly as a dancer. We cleared the fallen tree; we cleared Sidonie's recumbent form. I dismounted, scrambling on foot. I could hear somewhat stirring in the underbrush, coming toward us.
"Stay down!" I flung myself atop her.
Was it the boar? I couldn't be sure. I angled my body to best protect her, so that its gouging tusks would find my flesh first. And there I heard Sidonie de la Courcel's laugh, her true laugh, deep-throated and unexpectedly buoyant.
I stared at her, gaping.
"Oh, Imriel!" She pointed beyond where I had her pinned. "Look!"
It was a deer; only a deer. A young buck. Like as not, it was the one we had first pursued.