03 Nightchild by Barclay James

Author:Barclay, James [James, Barclay,]
Format: epub, mobi
Published: 2010-04-10T10:17:18.358000+00:00

'Let me save you,' drawled a voice that chilled her blood. 'In fact, I insist.'

She looked up, saw the face above her, and screamed.

Chapter 21

Darrick thundered into the Lysternan camp, shouting for Izack. The commander came running from the darkness. The General leapt from his horse.

Tzack, sound general alarm. I want this camp on horseback and ready to ride faster than you've ever done it before. Get a message to the Dordovans. Warn them away from the Ocean Elm. And if you can find our Dordovan mage guides, tell them they are no longer welcome to ride with us.'

'Sir?' Izack frowned.

'Later. We have to get to the Elm. There's going to be real trouble, I think.'

'Sir!' Izack turned and ran, Darrick watching him order a young soldier to the bell and snap out orders that had men running for the paddocks, had tent flaps flying and set the camp alive with the sounds of neighing and snorting horses, chinking metal and a rising tide of urgent shouts.

Darrick turned and ran for the paddocks for a fresh horse, one of hundreds of men for whom speed was everything.

The paddocks looked like chaos incarnate but Darrick knew different. All the horses were picketed according to precise instruction and every man could find his mount with the very minimum of fuss and delay. Closer to, Izack, who had somehow got there ahead of him, was bellowing orders.

'Mounted cavalry leave the paddock area and form up by squads

at muster point one. One!' He held an arm aloft, fingers straight up,

to indicate to those who couldn't hear him. 'Move Lystern, move!'

Darrick grinned. That would hurt the Dordovan mages, if they had heard it. The mages who shadowed them everywhere with a haughty air and who, he noted, were now conspicuous by their

absence. If they had any remaining sense, they'd have left the camp already.

Dodging wheeling horses, the last saddles being hurriedly fixed and the flare of cloaks as riders swept up and over, Darrick ran on, his reserve mount held by his personal handler. The mare looked perfect in the torchlight, her coat shining, her head steady, bit and bridle polished. Like always. Nodding thanks, the General surged into the saddle, slipped his feet into the stirrups and kicked the horse on, vaulting the paddock fence and galloping to the muster point where he found Izack fretting.

'Not fast enough,' said the senior captain in whom Darrick had utter faith.

'Gods, Izack, I'm glad you don't command me. From a sleeping start, this has got to be some sort of record.'

'Doesn't change the fact we haven't the time to waste.'

Darrick watched his men streaming to the muster, the last already in sight. 'Bring them to order.'

'Listen up,' shouted Izack, both arms up and spread above his head. 'General speaking.' Instant hush fell on the riders.

'This is no charge across open ground to an enemy. Those of you who have ridden to battle with me in years past remember the thrill of the ride. This has to be different.

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