Katherine Kurtz - King Kelson 1 by The Bishop's Heir

Author:The Bishop's Heir
Language: eng
Format: mobi
Published: 2011-09-27T22:29:21+00:00

CHAPTER TWELVE

All the men of thy confederacy have brought thee even to the border: the men that were at peace with thee have deceived thee, and prevailed against thee

— Obadiah 1:7

“Uh-oh, we have company,” Kelson murmured.

He reined back to a walk and stood in his stirrups for a better look, pointing at a snowy ridge far ahead where a mounted horse had just appeared, silhouetted against the twilight sky.

“D’you see him?”

Morgan, with a curt signal to halt the column of knights riding four abreast behind them, also drew rein and peered into the distance, casting about with other senses than sight, lest the rider not be alone.

“Aye, and he’s undoubtedly seen us by now as well,” he replied. “So much for approaching Ratharkin unob — what the — ?”

He broke off in astonishment as the horse suddenly broke from the top of the hill and began plunging down the snow-covered slope, each ponderous lurch threatening to send both rider and steed tumbling.

“Is he trying to break his neck?” Kelson gasped.

The horse stumbled and nearly went down even as Kelson spoke, then suddenly both he and Morgan saw the reason for at least a part of the animal’s labor.

“He’s carrying double!” Kelson exclaimed in amazement.

“Aye, and to be riding double at that speed and on a horse that spent, the Devil himself must Page 119

be chasing them,” Morgan agreed. “Care to give the Devil some sport. Sire?”

Kelson raised an eyebrow at the borderline blasphemy, but he needed no second invitation.

He had been spoiling for just such a skirmish all day. With a grin which had nothing to do with mirth, he unsheathed his sword and raised it over his head, glancing back to where Conall was already shaking out the folds of the Haldane battle standard.

“Forward at the canter and fan out!” he ordered, standing in his stirrups and pointing with his sword. “Whoever’s chasing that fellow is going to have a surprise, I think!”

Immediately Conall and Saer de Traheme spurred forward and to Kelson’s left, folds of scarlet silk billowing on the wind as the battle standard unfurled. Jodrell led another detachment to the right. The deadly hiss of steel slithering from scabbards joined the jingle of bits and spurs and the creak of leather as the knights broadened their line, outriders spurring ahead on the flanks. They were nearing the start of the hillrise now, the fleeing horse nearly upon them — close enough for Morgan to see that the front rider on the horse was a girl, dark hair whipping in the wind. And the other —

“It’s Dhugal!” Kelson cried, even as the other rider’s arm flailed in a frenzied wave of recognition.

Dhugal was in their midst then, laughing aloud despite his exhaustion. Kelson and Morgan reining in to bracket his faltering mount as the rest of the warband swept on up the hill. Morgan caught the horse’s near rein and drew its head close to his stirrup, his own mount scrambling for footing as the sorrel staggered and nearly fell.

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