Morgaine #03 - Fires Of Azeroth by C. J. Cherryh

Author:C. J. Cherryh [Cherryh, C. J.]
Language: eng
Format: epub
Published: 2011-11-04T15:40:24+00:00

CHAPTER Eleven

They moved out yet again before dawn, and by the time day came full upon them, the dark line of Shathan bowed across their northern horizon.

During that day a strange tension lay over the company, which had riders dropping back to the rear by twos and threes and talking together a while before riding forward again.

Vanye saw it plainly enough, and reckoned that Roh did... dared not call it into question, for there was Fwar, as ever, at his side. I am mad, he kept thinking, to have any trust left in him. He was afraid, with a gnawing apprehension which Shathan’s nearness did nothing to allay: to ride into the darkness...

He flexed the knee against the splints, and estimated that with the horse under him he was a whole man and without it a dead one. To ride with any speed through that dark maze of roots and uneven ground was impossible; to run it afoot, lame as he was, held no better hope—and the question was how far he could lead this band, before someone called halt and challenged him.

Yet Roh let him guide them still, even after Shien’s warning, and what mutterings Fwar had made about it were silenced. All objections were stilled. There were only the whisperings in the back of the column.

In the afternoon they stopped and sat down with tether lines in hand, letting the horses rest, themselves taking a little food and drink, unpacking nothing which was not at once replaced, ready to move on in any instant. A gambling game started up, using knives and skill, and imaginary stakes of khalur plunder; that grew loud, and swiftly obscene. Roh sat unsmiling. His eyes shifted to Vanye’s, and said nothing.

And suddenly flickered, fixed beyond his shoulder. Vanye turned and saw through his horse’s legs a haze of dust on the southern horizon.

“I think we should move,” Roh said.

“Aye,” he murmured. There was no doubt what that was, by its direction: Hetharu—Hetharu with his riders, and the Shiua horde in his wake.

Fwar swore blackly and ordered his men to horse. They sprang up from their game and checked girths, adjusted bits, took to the saddle with feverish haste. Vanye swung up and reined about, taking another look.

It was more than one point of the horizon now: it was an arc that swept toward them from south and west, hemming them half about. “Shien,” he said. “Shien has joined with them.”

“That dust will be seen in the Sotharra camp,” Fwar judged, and swore. “There and among the ones out on Narn-side. They will lose no time riding this way either.”

Roh made no answer, but set spurs to the black mare. The whole company rode after him in haste, driving their horses to desperate flight. Spur and quirt could not keep the weaker with the pace; already the company was beginning to string back. The Shiua animals, journey-worn, could not keep the Andurin mare’s ground-eating stride, much as their riders belabored them. Vanye nursed his sorrel gelding as he had done from the beginning.

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