Seeing the Pelanese uniforms silhouetted against the Sun,
the Chonao that were halfway up the slope turned and began scrambling back down, yelling, “Retreat! Run!” Other Chonao looked up, turned, and tried to flee back up the ravine, only to be pushed back by the press of those who were still advancing.
Jezzil shook his head, and when a voice said, “Move aside, lad, ’tis work for the long guns, here,” he was glad to make way for a Pelanese infantryman with his musket. As Jezzil turned away, reinforcements began firing down into the ravine. These soldiers were well drilled and could get off as many as three shots per minute.
Screams erupted, and the firing kept on, and on, and on.
Jezzil walked back to Falar and picked up her reins, glad that it was not his responsibility to deal with the men down there. For a moment he imagined what it would be like to be among them, trapped, trying to run, clawing and fighting to get out of range, desperately struggling for footing in a stream that was running red—and then he shook his head and shut out that vision.
A hand touched his arm, and he turned to see Talis. Her face was filthy, but she was grinning broadly. “I’m glad to see you made it!” she exclaimed.
Jezzil smiled at her. “I’m glad to see you did, too.”
They heard, then, the sound of men shouting, in unison, the sound issuing from hundreds, thousands, of throats.
Jezzil turned to look for the source. He could make out the words now—a battle cry, growing ever louder. He stood on tiptoe, but that was no good, so he leaped up on Falar. What he saw made him smile. Not far from him, he saw a familiar black horse, and on it, a familiar figure. Prince Eregard was standing in his stirrups, waving the flag of Pela high, and shouting … and the troops were shouting with him.
“PELA FOREVER!” they roared.
“Good work, Eregard!” Jezzil muttered, proud of his friend.
Something struck his leg, and Jezzil looked down at Talis.
“What’s going on?” she demanded.
“It’s Eregard. He’s got the flag, and he’s rallying the troops.”
She nodded. “Oh. Yes, I heard it from one of the Royal Guardsman. King Agivir was killed a few minutes ago.”
Jezzil felt a wave of sorrow for the old man he’d known only a few days. “Oh,” he said. “I’m sorry.”
She nodded as though he’d said far more. “I know. I’m the last person to say anything kind about a royal, but he was a good man. He wasn’t a good king anymore, but he was a good man.”
Jezzil nodded, then looked around. “Where’s your horse?”
Talis shook her head. “Lardbutt got creased by a round across her fat rear,” she said. “She’ll recover, but she’s lame in her right hind. I sent her back to the remuda.”
“Here, come up with me, then,” Jezzil said, taking his left foot out of the stirrup. He pulled her up behind him on Falar, and when Major q’Rindo gave the order, they headed back behind the lines.
As he rode, Jezzil was thinking furiously. I was right about one flank attack, suppose I was right about both of them? What if Chonao are coming through up there? He glanced over at the southern foothills. Eregard said the main trail comes out at the supply wagons and infirmary tents. A thousand cavalrymen could catch the army from behind, crack them like a mouse in a vice. I have to do something.
When Jezzil reached the Company Two lines, he turned to Talis, offering her his hand to aid her as she slid off over Falar’s rump. “I need your help,” he said quietly. “Follow me as soon as you can slip away. Meet me back by the supply wagons.”
Her mouth opened, then closed, and she nodded, once.
Jezzil spotted his commanding officer, dismounted, and made a show of picking up Falar’s off fore and examining it.
Then he led the mare over to the major and saluted. “Sir, my mare’s got a loose shoe. Request permission to have it seen to before it can cause trouble.”
Major q’Rindo nodded. “Permission granted, trooper, but make it fast,” he said. “And my thanks for the quick shot back there.”
“Yes, sir!”
Feeling guilty about the lie he’d told, Jezzil led Falar away, heading for the rear of the encampment and the supply wagons. When he reached them, he took a moment to step between two wagons to relieve himself, then drank from his flask. The heat hung over the battlefield as tangibly as the smoke from the guns.
When he lowered the flask, Talis was there. “I didn’t even have to sneak off. Major sent me to go get a remount,” she said. Moving over to Falar, she patted the mare’s shoulder, then slid her hand down and picked up her right foreleg.
“There’s nothing wrong with this shoe,” she said, looking up. “What’s going on?”
Quickly, Jezzil explained his fears about another Chonao flanking attempt, this time coming through the southern foothills.
“And you intend to ride up there and scout?” Talis said.
“If you’re right, by the time you reconnoiter, then try to make it back here without them seeing you, it will be too late to stop them.”
“I don’t intend to physically scout the foothill trails,”
Jezzil said. “I won’t have to, if I can do this spell correctly.
But I need you to keep anyone from finding me. I won’t be in my own head for a while.”
Talis looked scared, but after a second nodded. “All right.
Where are you going to try this spell?”
“I’ll crawl under the wagon,” Jezzil said. “I should be mostly out of sight there.”
“All right,” she said. “How long will it take you?”
“I don’t know. Several minutes, at least.”
“You’d better get started.”
Jezzil nodded. “When I come back out, I may not make much sense for a few minutes. Make sure I tell you exactly what I’ve seen. Do whatever you have to do to bring me out of it. Understand?”
“Yes,” Talis said, and added, nervously, “I don’t like this.”
“Neither do I,” Jezzil said, “but I don’t see an alternative.”
Quickly, he dropped to the ground and crawled under the wagon. He discovered that there was enough room for him to lie on his side as he fumbled for the small vial of black, viscous liquid Khith had decocted for him last night, and the tiny piece of hollow bone it had wrapped in a piece of silk.
Jezzil recalled the ingredients that Khith had taken from its bag—lian roots and vilneg leaves. Then, after it had brewed the decoction, it had pricked Jezzil’s finger and added several drops of blood. He also recalled Khith’s words of warning. “I have no idea whether this substance will work on one of your people …”
Jezzil pried out the stopper, cautiously sniffed the mixture and gagged. His stomach was empty. Could he even keep the stuff down?
Only one way to find out, Jezzil thought. With a sudden movement of his wrist, he put the vial to his lips, tossed back his head and gulped down the contents.
It was touch and go for a moment, as to whether the liquid would stay down. Jezzil gritted his teeth, counting in his mind. He reached fifty before he dared to unclench his jaw.
Picking up the tiny bone, he held it clenched in his fist.
The potion was working. The sounds of the battle seemed magnified, then very far away, fading in and out. He could feel every blade of grass that touched his skin.
The ground seemed to rise up beneath him, then drop like an ocean swell. Jezzil rolled onto his belly, resolutely shut his eyes and put his hands over his ears.
Must … concentrate …
Now what were the focusing words Khith had recited?
Ah, yes …
Forest-juice, help me see,
Bones of hunter, let me hear,
Show me those who wish me harm,
Let me farsee, so to warn …
He thought the words because he could not make his tongue cooperate enough to speak them aloud. Thought them over and over …
All at once, he felt hi
mself moving—seemingly floating, moving fast and light. Jezzil dared to open his eyes, and realized that the spell had worked: he was seeing through the eyes of a feathered hunter—a hawk, a vulture, or perhaps an eagle.
Beneath him the alpine fields lay green with summer. Beneath his wings, the wind blew, chill and dank, presaging rain. The clouds above him were black, filled with flickers of greenish light and distant rumbles. A storm was coming, sure enough.
Jezzil induced his host to look down again. The creature’s vision was remarkable, so much sharper than his own could ever be. He was high up, near the treeline. That would not serve—he must go lower, lower …
The bird whose mind he shared responded to his urging and banked, heading north, away from the mountain peak. A moment later he was gliding over the foothills, watching, waiting, looking for any flicker of motion …
Yes! There! Living things, moving!
Jezzil pushed gently with his will, and the bird spiraled lower, keening its cry.
Yes, moving things, white and black, puffy fleece … a herd of sheep.
Jezzil wrenched his host’s attention away from a wobbly lamb, then sent the bird soaring again, circling. He spotted a trail running through the foothills and sent his host winging along it, watching, always watching …
Movement!
Again, movement, and this time there was no doubt that he had found his quarry. Men, many men, riding, no more than two or three abreast, along a narrow trail. They were trotting along, completely at their ease. It was hard to tell how far they had traveled along the trail, but Jezzil was sure it would bring them out into Ombal Pass and allow them to crush the Pelanese army between two sides of a vise.
Jezzil sent the bird soaring again, flapping a time or two, the powerful wings pumping, seeking the head of the col-umn. It took only a second for his host to catch up to the leader.
There was something about the set of the man’s shoulders, the way he sat his mount, that was disturbingly familiar.
One more flap and he was gliding past the leader, nearly on a level with his face, close enough to startle the man’s horse.
Barus.
The shock of seeing that familiar face threw Jezzil out of his trance. He came back to himself lying on the ground, his face pressed against the earth, his fingers clawed into it as if seeking purchase. Had he fallen asleep? He couldn’t tell.
The effects of the potion seemed to be wearing off. Khith had told him it was fast-acting, but did not linger.
He crawled forward, out from under the wagon, and found Talis there, waiting for him. When she saw him, her expression lightened. “Jezzil! Can you talk? Are you all right?”
“I think so,” he muttered, using the side of the wagon to get to his feet. He felt almost normal, though tired.
“Thank the Goddess,” she whispered. “I was afraid to disturb you, but you looked almost dead.”
“How long was I out?”
“Not too long,” she said. “A quarter of an hour? Perhaps a bit more.”
“There’s no time to lose, then,” he said, and went over to Falar. He checked his girth, then loaded both pistols. “Barus is leading a fairly large force of cavalry along the trails up there.” He pointed at the southern foothills. “If nothing stops them, they’ll come through somewhere near here, behind the Pelanese troops. The battle will be over if they succeed.”
Talis had turned pale beneath her tan. “Goddess! What are you going to do?”
“I’m going up there, as quickly as I can. I’ll scout their position, try to delay them. Use magic to start a fire, maybe.”
Jezzil yanked off his cap, then his uniform jacket. Quickly, he tugged at buckles and straps and pulled off his cuirass.
Standing there in his sleeveless undertunic, he glanced up at the mountain peaks. “There’s a storm coming, and a hard rain would prove very bad for the Pelanese. We have to make sure this attempt to flank the army doesn’t succeed.” He swung up onto Falar. Catching his urgency, she danced and snorted.
Talis flung herself forward, grabbing Falar’s bridle.
“Wait! Did that potion drive you mad? You’re going alone?
One soldier against a whole regiment of cavalry? At least let me come with you!”
“No,” he said. “I need you to alert the major, get him to bring reinforcements. I spotted that other incursion—tell him I went off scouting and spotted another one, or something. Damnation, tell him anything, just get reinforcements up those trails as fast as they can ride!”
“But—”
Jezzil leaned forward, grabbed her shoulder and shoved her away, forcing her to release the bridle. “Just do it!”
Loosening the reins, he shouted, “Hah!” The gray mare sprang forward, running like a creature possessed.
Talis didn’t stay to watch Falar disappear into the trees.
Gathering her wits, she thought to head back to Company Two’s position, then hesitated. Her path would take her close to the remount pen. She’d need a horse if she were to accompany her unit.
She began to run.
When she reached the remount pen her mouth opened in dismay. There were only about twenty horses milling around, and they were the dregs of the cavalry’s ridable mounts. An old soldier, evidently the hostler, laughed out loud as he took in her expression. “Not much to choose among ’em, is there?” he said. “We’ve got more remounts coming up from Pela, but they haven’t got here yet.”
He gazed at the choices and shrugged. “I’d say take the roan. He’s got a few years on ’em, but at least he’s sound and fully broke.”
Talis looked at the horse in question, noting the hollows over its eyes and the way its back was beginning to sag.
“He’s got to be close to twenty,” she said. “I’ve got to have something with some speed and stamina.”
“Sorry, young lady,” the hostler said. “You’ll just have to wait.”
A flash of white caught her eye, and she saw a horse standing behind the nearest tent: a big, strong gelding, decked out like a parade horse, with an old-fashioned, heavy saddle. She pointed. “What about that fellow?”
“I’ve been tryin’ to get near him for an hour, missy,” the man said. “He won’t let nobody get close. There’s blood on that old saddle. Poor beast, some of them take it hard when their rider buys himself a farm.”
Talis was already moving toward the big horse. “Get me a courier saddle,” she said.
The horse snorted and rolled his eyes as she approached, and she moved slowly, speaking softly. “Hey, big fellow.”
She held out her hand so he could catch her scent. “You poor thing, what happened?” Another step closer. The horse tossed his head uncertainly and sidestepped, eyes rolling.
But he did not run. “Hey, listen, fellow, you’ve got to help me out.” The horse extended his neck, and she felt his breath across her knuckles. “That’s it, good fellow. I really, really need a good horse, one just like you.” The horse continued to sniff her. “Easy, easy now …”
And then, as calmly as if he were walking into his familiar stable, the big white horse took two steps forward, until he was standing close to Talis. He sniffed her arm, then butted his head against her, the way Bayberry used to.
Talis smiled with wonder and delight. “Hey, good boy!”
The hostler eyed her admiringly as she led the big horse back to the temporary corral. “You got a way with horses, that’s for sure. Here’s your saddle, missy.”
“Thank you!” she said, hastily stripping off the fancy ca-parisons and the old-fashioned saddle. There was a red streak running down the animal’s shoulder, but she could find no wound. It wasn’t his blood, then.
It took her but a second to tack up the big charger with a light courier’s saddle. “Give me a leg up?”
The hostler obligingly grabbed her leg and gave her a boost. The white horse snorted and reared, but Talis brought him down. “None of that, now,” she said sternly. “You’re going to need all yo
ur energy for running. Let’s go find Major q’Rindo!”
I can’t let her keep running like this in this heat, Jezzil thought, or she’ll founder long before we can find Barus. He eased back on Falar’s reins, curbing her forward rush. The breeze was cool, under the trees, but the trail was ascending most of the time. So far, he’d been trotting fast up the slopes, then hand-galloping down, and alternately galloping and cantering on the straightaways. Falar had already run nearly two miles in the sweltering heat.
At the crest of the next hill, Jezzil halted to give Falar a minute to breathe, and to mark his trail. Whenever the path forked, he would break off a branch and leave the end hanging, as a sign for Talis to follow him.
As Eregard had said, there were multiple trails up here in these mountains. When he jumped Falar over one large deadfall of trees, close to Ombal Pass, his aerial vision was confirmed—he saw that a barricade had been removed, the logs chopped in half and dragged off to the side. The Pen Jav Dal had been at work clearing this trail. Jezzil could only hope the flanking attack was still far back in the foothills.
How long would it take Talis to convince the major that there was another attack on the way? Would she even be able to do it? Jezzil shook his head as he cantered down the trail again. He couldn’t worry about that now. He had to concentrate on what he was doing, and trust Talis to do her part.
He patted Falar’s neck, slick with sweat. How much farther to go? “Come on, girl, keep moving …”
By the time Talis returned to Company Two, she had reached an understanding with the big white horse. It was just a matter of patience mixed with firmness. She trotted up to Major q’Rindo and saluted smartly.
He glanced at her. “Good mount,” he said. “What took you so long? And where is Trooper Jezzil? He should be back by now.”
“Major, I have something important to tell you,” Talis said. “The Chonao are attempting another flank attack.”
The major sat up straighter on his bay. “Where? Report, trooper.”
“Sir, they’re coming through the foothills up there.” She pointed to the southern mountains, noticing as she did so that dark clouds were gathering. “Trooper Jezzil discovered their plan and went on ahead to reconnoiter.”
Storms of Destiny Page 54
