The Black Raven - Katharine Kerr [56]
“Huh, you look a cursed sight more dangerous here than in my world. It’s a pity you’re not a spear. I’ve got an ugly feeling I’m going to need a dweomer weapon soon enough.”
In his hand the bronze knife suddenly twisted like a living thing. The wood stick turned slippery, or so it seemed, and sped through his fingers. With a yelp he nearly dropped it, caught it again in both hands, and by then he needed both hands. The knife had transformed itself into a spear about six feet long, made of solid wood. When he hefted his new weapon, the bronze point still flashed with red fire.
“Well, then,” Rhodry said aloud. “If I wish for a war-band, will I get that too?”
He heard nothing but the wind, scouring dust over the coppery plain, and the spear stayed a single spear. Apparently he’d used all its dweomer. Clutching the spear, he turned around in a slow circle. Off in the direction of the perpetually setting sun, he saw a plume of what looked like dust. At first he thought it might merely be more smoke, but the plume grew taller, thicker—and faster, travelling straight for him. Slowly it resolved itself into a pair of riders, one on a black horse, the other on a blood bay. He had nowhere to hide and no speed to outrun them. He took the spear two-handed and held it ready across his body. The riders came closer, slowing to an easy walk, as if to tempt him to run.
“Ah ye gods!” Rhodry snarled. “I might have known.”
Raena rode up on a glossy blood bay gelding. She was wearing unusual men’s clothing, a shirt and tight brigga of rusty black cloth. Around her neck hung a leather thong bristling with talismans, which Rhodry recognized as Horsekin work. In her right hand she held a long black whip with a gold handle, much like the ones Horsekin officers carried as a mark of rank. Beside her on a black horse rode a creature that seemed more fox than man, though he was wearing black armor and held a black plumed helm tucked in his left arm. His pointed ears pricked like a fox’s, and his shiny black nose presided over a face covered with russet fur.
“So, Rhodry Maelwaedd!” Raena spoke in the rough border patois of Deverrian. “I’ve got you good and proper now!”
“Maybe so,” Rhodry said. “If you live to take me.”
Raena laughed and cracked her whip in the air. As if it heard the sound, the spearpoint flamed like a torch and hissed. Her horse flung up its head and danced backwards. Rhodry could see how hard it was for her to get it back under control, what with her holding both reins in one hand. She lashed the whip again.
“And how long will you hold on to that bit of wood?” Raena said. “I do wonder.”
Raena lifted her whip and snapped it right at his face. Rhodry flung up his spear in a parry. When the whip curled round the spearpoint, the braided thongs thrashed like a dying snake and hissed like one, too. With a scream Raena pulled it back, but a severed length of the lash fell, twitching, on the ground at her horse’s feet. The bay whickered and threatened to rear. With a muttered oath the fox rider drew his black sword.
“Let him be!” Raena snarled. “He’s mine!”
The fox rider ignored her and spurred his horse forward. Rhodry had just time to jump to one side and swing the spear at his horse’s head. The black whickered and fought the bit, but the fox rider wrenched its head around hard. Rhodry swung and smacked the black across the nose. A calculated risk—the fox rider’s sword was slashing down, straight at him, but the horse squealed and reared, its forelegs pawing the air, and the rider’s stroke missed. Cursing a steady stream, Raena was trying to force her horse toward Rhodry, but it too balked and tossed its head so violently she nearly lost the reins.
Rhodry howled out a berserker cry and rushed straight for the blood bay. He could hear the fox-man yelling something incomprehensible at Raena, who was trying to lash the whip with one hand whilst hanging on to the reins