The Lightstone: The Silver Sword: Part Two. David Zindell

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      Then Atara, scanning the horizon behind us, drew in a quick breath as she pointed toward the west. ‘They’re coming,’ she said. ‘Don’t you see?’

      At first none of us did. But as we stared at the far-off hills until our eyes burned, we finally saw a plume of dust rising into the sky.

      ‘How many are there?’ Maram asked Atara.

      ‘That’s hard to say,’ she told him.

      But even as we stood there beneath the quick beatings of our hearts, the dust plume grew bigger.

      ‘Too many, I think,’ Kane said. ‘Let’s ride now. We’ll have to leave the pack horses behind. They’re practically lame and slowing us down.’

      This imperious announcement sparked fierce protest from Maram and Liljana. Maram couldn’t abide the thought of separating ourselves from most of our food and drink, while Liljana bitterly regretted having to forsake her beloved pots and pans.

      ‘You have your shield,’ she said to Kane, ‘so why shouldn’t I be allowed at least one pot for cooking a hot meal when we might most need one?’

      ‘And what about the brandy?’ Maram put in. ‘There’s little enough left, but we’ll need it for our return from Khaisham.’

      ‘Return?’ Kane growled. ‘We won’t even reach Khaisham if we don’t ride now. Now fetch your pot and your brandy, and let’s be off.’

      We made a quick redistribution of those vital stores that the pack horses carried, filling our mounts’ saddlebags as full as we dared. Then we said goodbye to these faithful beasts that had carried our belongings so far. I prayed that they would wander over Yarkona’s mounded plains until some kind farmer found them and put them to work.

      With pursuit now certain, though still far away, we set out for the Kul Moroth. We rode hard, pressing the horses to a full gallop until it became clear that they couldn’t hold such a pace. Altaru and Iolo were strong enough, and Fire, too, but Kane’s big bay and Liljana’s gelding had little wind left for such heroics. Master Juwain’s sorrel seemed to have aged greatly since setting out from Mesh, while Maram’s poor horse was in the worst shape of any of our mounts. His sore hoof, now bruised by hot stones, was getting worse with every furlong we covered. I worried that soon he would pull up ruined and lame. And Maram worried about this as well.

      ‘Ah, perhaps you should just leave me behind,’ he gasped as he urged his limping sorrel to keep up with us. For a moment, we slowed to a trot. ‘I’ll ride off in a different direction. Perhaps the Count’s men will follow me, instead of you.’

      It was a courageous offer, if a little insincere. I thought that he might hope that our pursuers would follow us instead of him.

      ‘On the Wendrush,’ Atara said from atop her great roan mare, ‘that is how it must be. Where speed is life, a war party is only as fast as its slowest horse.’

      Her words greatly alarmed Maram, who had no real intention of simply riding away from us. She saw his disquiet and said, ‘But this is not the Wendrush and we are no war party.’

      ‘Just so,’ I said. ‘Our company will reach Khaisham together or not at all. We have a lead; now let’s keep it.’

      But this proved impossible to do. As the ground grew even drier and rougher, Maram’s sorrel slowed his pace even more. And the plume of dust behind us grew closer and thickened into a cloud.

      ‘What are we to do?’ Maram muttered. ‘What are we to do?’

      And Kane, bringing up the rear, answered him with one word, ‘Ride.’

      And ride we did. The rhythm of our horses’ hooves beat against the ground like the pounding of a drum. It grew very hot. I squinted against the sun pouring down upon the rocks to the east of us. Its rays, I thought, were like fiery nails fixing us to the earth. Dust stung my eyes and found its way into my mouth. Here the soil tasted of salt and men’s tears, if not those of the angels. Here, in this burning waste, it would be easy for horse and man to perish, sweated dry of all their water.

      After some miles, my thoughts turned away from the men behind us and toward visions of water. I remembered the deep blue stillness of Lake Waskaw and the rivers of Mesh; I thought of the soft white clouds over Mount Vayu and its glittering snowfields melting into rills and brooks. I began to pray for rain.

      But the sky remained clear, a hot and hellish blue-white that glared like fired iron. It consoled me not at all that Count Ulanu and his men must suffer this dreadful heat even as we did. I took courage, however, from the thought that if we endured it more bravely, we still might outdistance them.

      But it was they who closed the distance between us. The cloud of dust following us grew ever larger and nearer.

      ‘The Count,’ Kane observed bitterly, looking back, ‘can afford to leave his laggards behind.’

      As the hours passed, we entered terrain in which a series of low ridges ran from north to south like dull knife-blades pushing up the earth. They roughly paralleled the much greater mountain spur still ahead of us where, if Kane’s memory proved true, we would find the Kul Moroth. In most places, we had no choice but to ride up and over these sun-baked folds. This hot, heaving work tortured the horses. From the top of one of them, where we paused to rest our faithful and sweating friends, we had a better view of the men pursuing us.

      ‘Oh, my Lord!’ Maram groaned. ‘There are so many!’

      For now, beneath the roiling column of dust drawing closer to the west, we saw perhaps five hundred men on horses following the dragon standard. I thought I caught a glimpse of another red dragon set against a yellow surcoat: surely that of Count Ulanu leading the pursuit. There were many knights behind him, both heavy cavalry and light, and even a few horse archers accoutered much as Atara. A whole company of Blues on their swift, nimble ponies galloped after us as well. It seemed that Count Ulanu had summoned the entire vanguard of his army to help him wreak his vengeance upon us.

      During the next hour of our flight, clouds began moving in from the north and darkening the sky. They built to great heights with amazing quickness. Their black, billowing shapes blocked out much of the sun. It grew much cooler, a gift from the heavens for which we were all grateful.

      Count Ulanu’s men, though, drew as much relief from the approaching storm as did we. He sent some of his horse archers galloping forward in a wild dash finally to close with us. They fired off a few rounds of arrows, which fell to earth out of range.

      ‘Hmmph, archers shouldn’t waste arrows so,’ Atara said. ‘If they come any closer, I’ll spare them a few of mine.’

      They did come closer. As we began ascending yet another ridge, a feathered shaft struck the earth only a dozen yards behind Kane’s heaving bay. Atara’s great, recurved bow was strung and ready; I thought that she would wait until gaining the crest of the ridge before turning to shoot back at them.

      The rapidly cooling air about us seemed charged with anticipation and death. The sky rumbled with great rolling waves of thunder. I felt an itch at the back of my neck as if something were pulling at my hair. And then a bolt of lightning flashed down from the clouds and burned the air. It struck the ridge above us, and sent a blue fire running along the rocks. Balls of hail fell down, too, pelting us and pinging off my helmet. Master Juwain and the others made a sort of СКАЧАТЬ