Kings of Sorcery by Robert Ryan

Author:Robert Ryan [Ryan, Robert]
Language: eng
Format: epub
Publisher: Trotting Fox Press
Published: 2020-04-11T22:00:00+00:00

11. Word Spreads Like Fire

The rider sped across the slope and angled toward the road leading to the fortress. Whoever it was could ride with supreme skill, for the slope was uneven, steep and dotted with outcrops of rock and boulders. A mistake by either horse or rider was death. Yet the rider came on, weaving a course around all obstacles and somehow finding a safe path.

“He’ll kill himself riding like that,” Sighern said.

Brand did not answer straightaway. His attention was on the rider alone, and he was gripped by their skill and their courage. But he was also curious.

“Whoever it is,” he said without taking his gaze off the scene, “has great skill. But why do it? What drives them? What danger lies behind?”

Shorty slowly shook his head. “There are men out there felling timber. And there are scouts. If the enemy was upon us, then we would have heard long since.”

“I think so too,” Brand agreed.

They watched as the horse gathered its legs beneath it, and then leapt a line of tumbled stones that would be waist high to a man. The rider bent low in the saddle, helping the horse keep its balance. It landed on the other side, slipping before righting itself, and then speeding on at a nudge from its rider.

But the jump had caused the rider’s hood to fall back, and a tumbled mass of dark hair came free. A moment Brand looked, amazed and lost for words.

“Tinwellen,” he cried after a moment, and even as he did so she turned the horse onto the road and raced along it, shooting toward the fortress like a dark arrow with a cloud of dust rising behind her.

The others looked at Band. “She was the daughter of the merchant who owned the trading caravans I used as cover to enter the Duthgar. But she shouldn’t be here, or anywhere near here.”

Explanations would have to wait. He leapt down the stairs at the rear of the battlement two at a time, and the others followed fast behind.

Brand came to the courtyard beneath the gate towers. The tunnel through the wall opened before him, but there he waited. Within the confines of that dark space the clatter of hooves roared and the movement of a rider could be seen speeding through the narrow way.

And then Tinwellen was there, all dark hair and curves, excitement in her eyes and a flash of recognition as she saw him there.

She pulled her horse to a stop. It was a fine animal, though worked hard just now. Its coat was black, but sweat frothed over its flanks and it drew in long breaths of air loudly. It trembled also, close to exhaustion. Even so, it stood proudly. Brand admired it, but it was not one that he had ever seen in the merchant’s caravan.

But prouder than the horse was she who rode it. Tinwellen sat there, her eyes haughty and a look of calm on her face as though she had strolled in here by accident and now looked around with mild curiosity.

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