Fetterlock ran from behind her and slashed the silver-bear with his broadsword. Its edge crumpled the creature’s rib cage, but the sword rotted and cracked with the impact. Fetterlock didn’t give the silver-bear time to recover, but hammered at its broken ribs with the stump of his sword. It howled, ribs snapped one after another, but the metal was sloughing from Fetterlock’s hands and the creature still hadn’t fallen. He kept on pounding, and now Clovermead saw tears start from his eyes. The last of his blade had fallen away, and he was punching the creature with his bare hands. His skin was turning red, as acid ate into it, and he was bleeding—soon the quicksilver oozing from the silver-bear would eat into his flesh and bone—and at last the monster collapsed onto the ground. Fetterlock dodged to one side of the dying silver-bear and came rolling toward Clovermead.
“My hands hurt,” Fetterlock moaned. He rubbed his hands against his shirt and gasped as the flecks of acid oozed into the cloth. He tore two strips of cloth from his shirt, and bound them around his burned hands.
“Thank you,” Clovermead gasped.
“Tell Bardelle I fought hard for Our Lady,” said Fetterlock. He fumbled behind his neck, and drew another sword from a scabbard slung over his back. “I must be fighting again, Demoiselle,” he said, and he charged back into the battle.
Clovermead recovered her sword from the ground, swung up onto Auroche, and galloped after Fetterlock. He hadn’t gone far: A line of bear-priests and White Star warriors fought with each other fifty feet away, and Fetterlock and Clovermead joined in the fray. There were more Tansyards than bear-priests, but each bear-priest fought with more than human savagery. Still, Clovermead’s sword parted their mail like soft cloth, and Fetterlock’s sword splintered their armor. Clovermead felt half a dozen slashes on her arms and legs, and one blade sliced down her side like searing flame. The ground around her was thick with the bodies of bear-priests and Tansyards.
Clovermead had a moment’s respite, and she looked up to see silver-bears scythe through the battlefield. One a hundred yards away mowed its way through dozens of Tansyards, burning them, biting them, and smashing them to the ground. Tansyard after Tansyard rushed at it to throw a lance, fire an arrow from horseback, or strike at the monster with a sword. The beast howled its insatiable bloodlust, its pleasure at killing, and it struck down another half dozen Tansyards in seconds. Another score of Tansyard warriors came at the silver-bear. Now, at last, it howled in pain and disappointment, and fell dying to the ground. The remaining Tansyards had no time to rest, but moved on to fight the nearest bear-priests. Thirty Tansyards, dead or wounded, lay around the fallen silver-bear.
The sun rose high in the sky. The armies fought each other in intimate embrace along the middle of Yarrow’s Bowl. The first eagerness that had galvanized both sides seeped out, and now they fought among the fallen with weary endurance. Soldiers sweated as much as they bled, and the grass had grown slippery underfoot. More than half the silver-bears lay dead on the field, but the remainder still ravened among the allied soldiery. Clovermead had lost sight of her mother hours before, she was barely aware of the battle around her, and she fought among dismounted Yellowjackets against a knot of bear-priests. Bergander was by her side, and so was Sergeant Algere. Habick and Corporal Naquaire were on Algere’s other side. Clovermead’s arm rose and fell, rose and fell, and Firefly had become nothing more than a hacking butcher’s knife. Bergander was singing some song, and then a scimitar sliced open his lungs. He fell, he died, with a look of surprise on his face. Four, thought Clovermead. Algere also fell, wounded in the thigh. Clovermead crushed the fingers of the bear-priest who had stabbed Algere, slew another bear-priest, raged forward, and left Habick and Naquaire and Algere far behind her. She fought alone, and then for a moment there was no bear-priest to face.
Snuff came riding by on Boulderbash. He held a sword in either hand and he slew two Low Branding patricians as she watched. Boulderbash roared with terrible fury, and her great claws killed as many men as Lucifer’s swords. They moved in deadly harmony through the battlefield, more deadly than any silver-bear, and no soldiers dared oppose them. They simply fled whenever the fatal pair came close. Snuff caught sight of the slaves huddled behind a screen of Tansyard warriors, and he chortled with joy. He said something to Boulderbash, and she began to race toward the slaves.
Wait, Snuff, Clovermead cried out in her mind. Don’t you want to fight me, Boulderbash? Here I am.
I do, said Boulderbash. Turn around, Lucifer.
As you wish, Snuff said amiably. He whirled around and faced Clovermead with his two swords high. Then Clovermead brought out Firefly, and swung it at him. Boulderbash’s paws swiped at her, and Clovermead parried swords and paws as quickly as she could. Snuff pressed forward, Boulderbash lunged toward her, and Clovermead fell backward. Firefly was a blur in her hands.
“Not bad,” Snuff gasped out loud. He drew back Boulderbash for a moment and rested. “You’re a proper fighter now. You were just an amateur the last time we dueled, girlie.” There was admiration in his eyes.
“You’re better too,” said Clovermead. “You had Ursus in you last time to help you fight. This time it’s just you.”
“Any Queensmarter should be the match of a dozen Linstockers,” said Snuff. He grinned. “I don’t need his help to finish you off.” He raised his swords, gave Clovermead a second to prepare herself, then came galloping at her once more. His swords were a blur, and the left blade missed Clovermead’s neck by a finger’s width. Clovermead stumbled away from Snuff, and he drew back his swords again as Boulderbash reared high onto her hind legs—
Sorrel’s sword sent Snuff’s first blade twirling into the air, and then he smashed Snuff’s second sword to the ground as it swung toward Clovermead. He was galloping in front of Boulderbash on Brown Barley, the bear’s paws barely missed Brown Barley’s rump, and then Sorrel was whirling around Boulderbash. He grinned at Clovermead from behind the bear. “You know, Clovermead, saving your life is becoming a habit. Bear-priest, butterfingers, can’t you even keep hold of your swords?”
“Stupid whelp,” Snuff snapped. “Stop interfering.” In an instant he drew a dagger from his belt, turned, and threw it with deadly accuracy at Sorrel—and as Sorrel drew up Brown Barley to avoid the whirring blade, Snuff pushed himself up into a crouch and leaped from Boulderbash’s back into midair. He slammed into Sorrel before the Tansyard could bring up his sword to defend himself, and the two of them tumbled off of Brown Barley to the ground. Sorrel’s sword spun into the dust, and the two of them, unarmed, gouged and kicked at each other as they rolled on the grass—
Boulderbash roared and leaped at Clovermead. Clovermead struck at her with Firefly, and Boulderbash didn’t try to avoid the stroke, but took the sword in her paw and swept it out of Clovermead’s hands. Only the side of her paw struck Clovermead, but the force of her blow sent Clovermead flying to the ground. Clovermead was turning into a bear, and then Boulderbash was on her, snapping at Clovermead with her teeth and clawing at her.
Did you know I killed your Horde, Tansyard? Clovermead heard Snuff say in her mind, heard him say out loud to Sorrel however many feet away they were. Clovermead clawed at Boulderbash’s front legs, but barely scratched her skin. I convinced the Mayor to send his soldiers over the Moors. I summoned the bears and bear-priests. I led them all into your Horde that night. Boulderbash’s claws scoured Clovermead’s legs, and her fangs bit deep into Clovermead’s side. Clovermead screamed, rolled away from Boulderbash, and banged her paw against Boulderbash’s snout. The white bear recoiled for a second.
You had a father, Sorrel? Snuff asked. He’s dead because of me. I pounded the nails into your mother’s hands myself—rank has its privileges. Boulderbash stalked toward Clovermead, and Clovermead scrambled onto all four feet as the bear approached her. She was twice Clovermead’s bear-size, and she wasn’t even tired. Clovermead’s ribs ached from the effort of breathing. I’ll kill you, too, Tansyard, and tie up the last loose end of the
Cyan Cross Horde. But first you’ll see me entertain myself with the deaths of your mother and sister—
Sorrel screamed. He flailed at Snuff like a madman, like a beast, and all his self-control was gone. Cool and collected, Snuff easily dodged Sorrel’s blows. He clawed and punched the Tansyard with dispassionate precision, but Sorrel didn’t even realize how badly he was being hurt. He fought berserk, and Snuff was going to kill him. Boulderbash was coming toward Clovermead, and Clovermead had to turn and fight her, or she’d die too, but she couldn’t let Sorrel die. She ran toward Snuff and Sorrel, ignored Boulderbash’s oncoming fangs, and she leaped at Snuff. He cursed as he saw her coming, jerked away from her oncoming bulk, and Sorrel’s windmilling fist caught him square in the jaw. Snuff slumped to the ground—
—And then Boulderbash caught the scruff of Clovermead’s neck in her mouth. Effortlessly she shook Clovermead, tossed her from side to side as if she were a rag doll. Clovermead bit at midair, scraped Boulderbash’s fur with her claws, but the white bear boxed Clovermead in the ear, and the blow shivered through Clovermead. She couldn’t move, could barely see, and she hung limp from Boulderbash’s jaws. Contemptuously, Boulderbash let her go, and Clovermead slumped helplessly to the ground.
Boulderbash stood over her, panting. She looked at Clovermead with grief and rage greater than anything Clovermead had ever seen. Tears fell from the old bear’s eyes, blood dripped from her mouth, and her fangs were close to Clovermead’s throat. You deserve to die, she growled, with all the anguish in her heart. Torturer.
Clovermead rolled her eyes away from the oncoming jaws, to Sorrel. Snuff lay unconscious on the grass, and Sorrel knelt above him. He had drawn a knife from his belt, and held it over the bear-priest’s chest. His face was a mask of hatred and grief. He cursed the unconscious bear-priest in Tansyard. His knife slashed toward Snuff’s shirt—bounced off a button and skidded to the grass. A drop of blood ran down Snuff’s chest.
Boulderbash lowered her jaws. Her teeth were grazing Clovermead’s neck. You sacrificed me so as to save him, changeling? You left me in darkness for his sake? He’s nothing but a killer. She laughed through her tears. Look, he doesn’t even care about you. He’ll let you die, just so he gets the pleasure of his kill.
Clovermead turned back to Boulderbash. Half the world was the old bear’s great jaws. I didn’t expect anything back from him when I rescued him, Clovermead said fiercely. I don’t love him any less. He isn’t so nice now, but he’s not in his right mind. He will be kind Sorrel again, and brave Sorrel again, and everything that’s worth loving.
You’re wrong, said Boulderbash. Her teeth tightened on Clovermead’s neck. You look at him and you feel sure the cub you knew will return, but he never does. He kills once, he kills twice, and he acquires a taste for it. All that’s good in him leaches out, day by day. And all the sacrifices you’ve made for his sake turn to ashes. You let other bears be slaves for his sake, you let him abandon you without complaint, but there’s never any reward. It doesn’t turn out right in the end. He wallows in darkness, darkens all the world, and all that’s left is the shell of my little Ursus. Tears fell from her eyes onto Clovermead’s fur, blood stained Clovermead’s golden fur red. Better to kill you now, changeling, before you learn how your love has been wasted.
“No!” Clovermead heard, and the words seemed to ring through the battlefield. She heard running footsteps. Boulderbash’s jaws snapped, as if to break Clovermead’s neck then and there, but somehow she didn’t. She turned to see who it was, and Clovermead turned too.
It was Sorrel, running toward her. In his haste, he had left Snuff behind, left him alive. The bear-priest still breathed, with the Tansyard’s knife lying by his side. “Don’t kill her,” he said. He stood in front of Boulderbash and Clovermead. He showed his open hands to Boulderbash. Boulderbash raised her head, and listened to the sound of his voice. “Please,” said Sorrel. “Not her, too. I have lost nearly everyone I loved. Don’t kill her.” Boulderbash snarled at him, and made a half leap at him, to scare him away. Sorrel stood firm. “Kill me if you want,” he said tremblingly. “Spare her.”
You came back, said Boulderbash. She swung her head from Sorrel to Clovermead, from Clovermead back to Sorrel. Why for her? She doesn’t deserve it.
“You see, she makes me a better person,” said Sorrel. It was as if he understood Boulderbash. “Sometimes I have been a coward, and she has given me courage. Sometimes I have been melancholy, and she reminded me that the world still contains joy. I have been a childish fool of late, and she endured my spleen with the patience of a nun. She does good so easily, and I have learned from her how I should behave. She is sometimes thoughtless and foolish, too, and only a few weeks ago she almost broke my heart, yet I find that what I cherish in her far outweighs the parts of her that have pained me. You will tear out my heart if you kill her.” He lifted his neck to Boulderbash’s jaws. “If you will not let her live, kill me first. I could not endure to see her dead.”
Boulderbash lifted her paw to strike at Sorrel—and Clovermead helplessly whimpered. The white bear turned back toward Clovermead—and Sorrel tried to dart between them. Boulderbash looked at Clovermead with hatred, with envy. You are blessed to have each other, she said. You are blessed to deserve each other’s love. She lowered her paw. Her eyes were dry now. I cannot kill either one of you. Snuff groaned in the grass, and Boulderbash looked around her. The silver-bears had all fallen by now. The bear-priests still fought stiffly, but the allied soldiers had surrounded them and driven them into tiny pockets. The bear-priests asked for no quarter and were granted none.
I will take Snuff back to my son, said Boulderbash. She went over to him and picked him up carefully in her jaws, like a newborn cub. I will beg for his life too, to balance the one I have given you. Otherwise Ursus might take it: He does not care for servants who fail him. Boulderbash laughed. I will let him ride me still—he knows how to ride bear-back now, and I would hate to train a new rider. Then she roared so the echoes bounced off the mountainsides. Lady, I cannot stop loving my Ursus, and so I must serve him forever. He loved me once. Give me back my son who loved me. Please, Lady, I beg you. And she was bounding toward the warriors and the slaves ahead, Snuff dangling from her mouth. The Tansyards scattered, so did the slaves, and then she was riding through their lines and toward the Farry Heights beyond.
Clovermead shrank back to human. She was bleeding from a dozen wounds. Sorrel knelt by her side, and dabbed at her broken skin with his shirtsleeves. He smiled at her, but with great worry in his eyes. “How badly are you hurt?”
“I’ll live,” Clovermead whispered. She smiled tremulously. “Thank you.”
“And I must thank you. Turnabout is fair play, and so we save each other’s lives. Ah, Clovermead, what would we do without each other?”
“You’ll never find out, if I have anything to say about the matter,” said Clovermead. She frowned a little. “I hope I won’t be hearing too much of that thoughtless-and-foolish line from you, though. That could get annoying.”
“I will say it no more than you deserve, and I trust that will be very rarely indeed,” said Sorrel. With all the strength Clovermead could muster, she punched him in the shoulder. Sorrel laughed. “I suppose I deserve that,” he said. “But this is not the time to talk of such things. Now we should rest. When the battle is done we will talk.”
“When the battle is done,” Clovermead agreed. Then Sorrel helped Clovermead stand up, and whistled for Auroche and Brown Barley. The battle had wandered far away from them. Far-off dolls slew one another. Sorrel helped Clovermead up onto Auroche, swung up onto Brown Barley, and then he was leading her toward the rear of the battle, toward the doctors who would bandage her wounds, as the men of Linstock and the Steppes finished their terrible, bloody victory over the bear-priests.
Chapter Nineteen
The Battle at Yarrow’s Bowl
Clovermead woke at dawn to the scream of silver-bears and the sound of horns. The bear-prie
sts brayed derisively at their foes and Clovermead leaped up—
“They are not attacking yet,” said Sorrel. He sat by her side, calmly heating a pot of oatmeal over a fire. “They are merely making sure we don’t sleep in. Look, they are not assembled for an attack yet. I think they will have breakfast first, to see that they are well fed.” It was true. The bear-priests were taking rations from their packs and gulping them down. They kept their scimitars close to them, but they were not going to attack just yet. “So we have time to eat too,” Sorrel continued. He put his palm over the steaming pot, nodded with satisfaction, and ladled oatmeal into two wooden bowls. “You have spent fifteen hours or so asleep. Are you well rested?”
Clovermead yawned. “I guess so,” she said. “But you shouldn’t have let me sleep! You’ve done just as much as I have—”
“And I have slept a mere thirteen hours.” Sorrel blew on his oatmeal. “Do not worry, Clovermead. Neither of us has been needed.”
“Where’s Mother?” asked Clovermead. She shoveled a small bit of oatmeal into her mouth. It scalded her throat, but it tasted wonderful.
“Over on that little hill,” said Sorrel. He gestured to a knoll a hundred yards away, where Lady Cindertallow sat on horseback. He looked at Lady Cindertallow, then down at his yellow uniform. “I wonder if your mother has been informed yet that I am no longer a Yellowjacket in good standing?”
“Don’t worry. If she yells at you, I’ll yell back, and louder.”
“Then indeed I should have no fears,” said Sorrel. “I have faith in your lungs.” For a moment they smiled at each other.
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