Crae glanced over at her. She rode well, that was for certain. She had a lightness to her body that kept the little mare going and she barely moved in the saddle, even when they were at full gallop. He grimaced. He wondered if she knew that he picked the gentlest horse in Tharp's stables he could find and then realized: Of course she knows. She hadn't said anything then, but he remembered her expression in the stables, irritation chased by amusement. Then she had asked the horse's name, and that was that. She rode here on a seventeen-hand mountain of a horse, he thought, and I give her a ladies mount. They were paying for it now -- Briar was struggling under Crae's weight, but Silk was too light-boned for him and so they could not spell the horses by switching.
As if she heard his thoughts, she pulled up Silk into a trot and then a walk. Briar almost immediately stumbled to a halt, head down to his knees. Lynn glanced back. "Crae, keep him moving."
"I know what to do," he said, nettled, and spurred Briar a little harder than necessary. Still at a walk, Lynn swung her leg over the saddle and slid to the ground. She picked up Silk's reins and flipped them over the horse's head. Crae dismounted less showily. They led the horses along, letting their breathing slow. The horses were both lathered with sweat.
"How much farther to Trieve?" she said, squinting into the horizon. A line of darkening clouds gathered, and the wind picked up, with an edge to it. To Crae, it smelled wet and wild, bringing snow from the mountains.
"A day, and perhaps a half-day more. If they can hold this pace."
"That's a big if." She glanced at him. "We're losing Briar. I'm amazed he hasn't pulled up lame." She hesitated. "Maybe we should take it easy on them. I mean, the earthquakes have stopped." Her voice trailed off.
He had been thinking the same thing but he didn't trust the earthshakings to have come fully to an end. Not if Tharp were still intent upon opening the gordath again for his weapons, or the machines were still looking for her. No. They could not coddle the horses. "If we rest the horses, Briar will likely still fail, and we would be even farther behind."
"You're saying use them up," she muttered.
"We have no choice, Lynna. What did you think, to ride hard? We have to push them."
She took a deep breath. "It goes against everything I've ever --" She trailed off. "You're right. We need to move."
"I don't like it either," he said. He shrugged a shoulder. "Briar deserves better."
She nodded. "I know." Wind picked up around them, bending the grasses so they gleamed momentarily in the light. A few raindrops pattered down, and lightning flashed along the edge of the clouds. Lynn grimaced. "Great. An electrical storm."
Crae scanned the plain. He pointed to the east. "Over there. The land dips into a swale. We'll be out of the way of the lightning, at least." She clucked to Silk and the mare picked up the pace. The wind rushed harder at them, and with it came a squall of rain. They hurried.
The swale turned out to be better than he had hoped for. It was more of a ravine, and they were able to back the horses up against the bank while the sky opened with a roll of thunder and the rain came down in a rush. It was so loud they had to shout to be heard. Water streamed down her face, drenching her hair and her clothes. It rolled off her vest in a peculiar pattern, leaving the material almost dry, except at the neck. She hunched against the rain, and he found himself doing the same.
"At least it will be over soon," he shouted.
She grinned, swiping flat ropes of hair away from her face. "The glass is half full, eh?"
He understood immediately, and grinned back.
At length the rain relented, the thunder rolling off into the distance and the teeming shower turning into a drizzle. The clouds broke, and the setting sun gleamed down on a rain-wet land, pale rays stabbing through the clouds. Somewhere a plains bird began to pipe.
Lynn shrugged off her vest and wrung it out. Crae did the same with his jacket. He looked at Lynn. She hung her vest from the saddle, and scraped her wet hair back behind her ears. It gave her face a thin, intense look. She put the flat of her hand on her wet saddle, and made a face.
It would get cold tonight and small chance of a fire. They would spend an ill night on the plains, to be sure. He glanced at the sky. Less than a quarter-sun of daylight left. One more night, and then half-day's ride to Trieve. And who knows how long to find the guardian?
He patted Briar on the shoulder and tightened the saddle. He glanced at her. "Let's go."
Without a word, she nodded and swung aboard. They pushed back up the little hollow back onto the plains and moved the horses out at a fast, ground-eating trot.
Stars. Lynn hadn't noticed them before. Little of the night sky had filtered through the trees. Now on the plains, she gazed upward at the rain-cleared sky as they pushed the horses on well after nightfall. Only a glowing line remained near the horizon. The rest of the sky was dark.
She recognized none of the constellations. A great swoosh of white brushed across the sky, but it wasn't the Milky Way as she had ever seen it. As she watched, she saw a trail of light out of the corner of her eye. She turned, but the meteor burned out before she could fully see it. A small sound escaped her.
Crae was a shadow hulking next to her. Starlight caught only bits of him, reflecting off his eye, Briar's bit, a buckle. He turned to her, the saddle creaking. "What is it?"
"Our sky isn't like this," she tried. "It's not -- this isn't our sky." Well, that was hardly coherent, but she was numb with weariness. Underneath her, Silk stumbled and Lynn lurched in the saddle, trying to keep the mare's head up. The mare had been tripping more and more. "Look, they're done," she said. I'm done. "Let's stop."
"All right." He sounded grudging. She couldn't blame him, but the horses were dead on their feet. They halted and dismounted, their boots squishing in the wet grass. Lynn loosened the saddles but left them on the horses. The air had chilled and it would help keep them warm. She winced at the thought of saddle sores from damp saddle blankets. I'll have to check into it in the morning, she thought. She hobbled the animals as usual and fed them their handfuls of grain. Crae got out his bedroll and spread it on the ground, and she could hear him arraying his weapons next to him. "No fire," he said, his voice coming out of the dark. "We sleep to last star only."
She didn't say anything, only got out her own blanket, and lay down gingerly in the damp grass. Almost immediately the cold and wet spread through her. Fantastic. She sighed and tried to get comfortable.
Lynn woke with a start. Her eyes snapped open and she stared straight up at the sky. The night had wheeled and the stars had changed. She turned her head. Against the sky, the horses were a darker presence. Briar had his head straight up, his ears pricked forward, the reins making a line from his mouth to the ground.
What's. Out. There.
She heard rustling, something soft and furtive. Crae! Slowly she turned her head the other way. As hard as she strained, she could not see the shape of him in his bedroll. Blood pounded in her ears. Breathe, she told herself. Breathe. One of the horses snorted. Lynn held her breath again. She slid off the heavy blanket, trying to get free. Had he taken both his crossbow and sword? She damned her modesty that made her spread her bedroll a distance away from him and the weapons. The rustling sounded again, and she whispered his name, barely letting it between her lips.
The rustling erupted into charging footsteps. The horses screamed and reared, their forelegs hobbled together, and bumped into each other trying to escape. Lynn rolled over and kicked at her blanket. A silhouetted attacker stumbled over the heavy wet material and fell, and she used the time to get to her feet.
"CRAE!" she shouted.
He rose up on the other side of the campsite sword in hand. "Run!"
Someone swung at her. Lynn instinctively raised her arm to ward off the blow. Pain exploded across her forearm and she cried out and fell. Keep moving, dammit. She rolled again, sinking into the wet ground, sick with pain. Her attacker rose, a thin dark figure briefly silhouetted against the sky. Then another shadow merged with him and he cried out and fell. She could see little more than that. Lynn squirmed back a bit more and bumped something wet. Crae's blanket. She fumbled around one-handed, scrabbling desperately, until her fingers snagged on the crossbow.
She had to brace the crossbow awkwardly but she was able to cock the bolt. Only one shot, she thought, straining to see. With a keening cry someone rose up in front of her, arm over head, a weapon in hand. Lynn's hand jerked reflexively. The crossbow thunked into flesh. The man's war cry turned into a grunt, and he fell. Lynn stared, her breathing suddenly raspy, and then unfroze. Move move, she told herself. They'll know where that one came from. She grabbed as many of the bolts as she could pick up and scrambled. She set up again, this time quicker, and scanned the men fighting Crae. Dawn had come - overhead the indifferent sky had lightened and she could see more clearly. Crae fought two men, and they were so closely entwined she knew she couldn't get a clear shot. Nor was there time to wait for one -- Crae stumbled, almost dropping to his knee.
Lynn stood up. "Hey!" she shouted. In their surprise, she got their attention, and in the cold clear dawn, she could see them fully, skinny scrawny men carrying mauls. "Leave him alone," she said, and released the trigger.
The shot sang wide, but it didn't matter. Crae recovered first, and spitted his nearest man. The other didn't wait -- he took two steps back and then ran off. Cursing, Lynn hurried to reload, but Crae, panting, held up his hand. "I'll take him," he said. He laid down his sword, took the crossbow, loaded it efficiently, and aimed. He expertly led the distant running man and released the trigger. A second later, the man stumbled and fell.
Somewhere a bird began to sing. The air was cold and the wind rustled across the wet grass. Lynn's arm sang with pain, and she swayed, dizzy with it. The devastation of the camp came into focus. Here was the first man Crae had killed, blood pooling around his back. There was the man Lynn had shot. Their bedrolls were trampled with mud and blood. The horses had not managed to run far, but Lynn's heart hammered when she saw them twisted in their hobbles and reins. Crae turned to look at them and said a short, quiet word.
Both horses were unhurt. Lynn kept them quiet, holding their heads with her good hand while Crae unbound their hobbles and set their saddles to rights. He poured out some grain for them and they dropped their heads and began to eat.
Good. Things are getting back to normal. No, not normal. I killed a man. Immediately, she began to shake and had to sink down, weak with pain. "What. Why." She couldn't control her voice.
Crae picked up his sword, made a disgruntled face at it. Lynn made the mistake of looking at it. Blood, sure, but there was also cloth and skin. She made a noise, trying to keep from throwing up.
"Crows," he said. "They're crows."
She stared at him blankly. He went on, his forehead wrinkled with concern. "Lordless men...mercenaries. I had heard the council has engaged them for this battle, but I don't understand what they are doing here." He took a breath. "Where are you hurt?"
She shook her head. "My arm. I think it's broken. You?"
He shook his head. "Bruises only, thanks to you. Let me see."
He laid his sword on one of the blankets and helped her ease off her vest. She cried out when he touched her arm. Before she could protest he took his knife from his belt and slit the sleeve up the seam, and she bit back a scream. Her forearm was blue and purple around a long scrape.
"No bone coming through the skin," he said.
"That's good," she said.
He gave her a quick grin. His face was spattered with blood. "Yes. But though I can bind it it needs proper care. It will not be easy to ride with this."
Lynn had once broken her collarbone on a cross-country course and had gone back to riding the next day, with a sling and a load of prescription painkillers. Stupidest thing I've ever done, she thought. Except for this.
She had to lie down for the bandaging process. This time the damp grass felt soothing against her back. Lynn put her good arm across her eyes and tried to will herself away. Close your eyes and think of Joe, she told herself, but she couldn't find him -- the pain was a wall between herself and his memory. She had to breathe hard through her nose to keep from crying. When it was done, Crae helped her to her feet. Her arm was bulky and still throbbed with every movement, but it felt a little better than before.
"When we get to Trieve, a physician will bind it better," he promised. Lynn nodded, not sure if she could talk. He gathered up the horses and their gear, cleaned his sword and resheathed it, foraged for the remaining bolts, and when they were ready, helped her into the saddle. Lynn swayed and held on. "We'll be there by nightfall," he said. She nodded.
"I'll be all right," she said. "Sorry about this." She meant about slowing him down.
He looked startled. "You saved my life."
She looked around at the remains of the awful attack. The bodies lay where they had crumbled. The grasses were torn and flattened, mud-soaked as their own clothing. She held onto the saddle horn and the reins with her good hand and faced forward again. They had saved each other.
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