The mantis recognized the warning and ducked his head. Krystin said softer, “This is a thing of no great account, Anacletus. But still-perhaps best you mount a watch till you’ve word from me.”
We were past the edge of the crowd now, striding toward a stable where soldiers stood mounted, Barus at their head. I asked the commur-mage, “What of the farm? Perhaps the women survived.”
She glanced at me and shook her head. “Think you it’s likely?” she asked.
I said, “No,” and she nodded.
“Here.” Barus thrust the reins of a tall gray mare at me. “She’s something of a temper, but she can run.”
I took the reins and swung astride.
The mare was equipped with a cavalry saddle, set with a lance bucket and fixing loop: I stowed my staff there. She snorted and began to fret, curvetting so that she bumped her haunches against the animals to either side. I hauled the reins tight, forcing her plunging head down, and stroked her neck, murmuring softly the while. She gentled, and Barus granted me a grudgingly approving nod.
Krystin raised a hand, pointing to the gate through which I had entered Brynisvar, and lifted her black gelding to a trot. As we went down the avenue, I brought my mare alongside and asked, “Where do we go? What if they attack this place?”
She answered me, “Ten, you said? Nine Kho’rabi and a wizard?” And when I confirmed it: “There’s near two hundred men in Brynisvar, and most of them archers. I think not even the Sky Lords would take those odds.”
“Then where do we ride?” I asked.
We were at the gates now, and just past them she reined in a moment, not answering me as she studied the sky. I saw the airboat again. It quartered the blue like a hawk, hovering to the west, then moving slowly southward. Krystin’s eyes were closed and her lips moved, though she made no sound. I recognized the practice of magic and held my tongue until she was done.
“After them,” she said, and turned her horse’s head to the south, driving heels against the black flanks.
We rode along Brynisvar’s wall to the edge of the plateau at a canter. A trail led down there, running into the woods. In moments the sky was hidden beneath a canopy of branches, but Krystin was like a questing hound, not slowing our pace even as she closed her eyes and raised her face up. I knew she had established some kind of linkage to the Sky Lords through her sortilege. Rwyan had spoken somewhat of the ability-it was as though the magic that propelled the airboat gave off a scent, occult, that was discernible on that mysterious plane to those gifted with the occult talent. Certainly, Krystin had no hesitation in pursuing the vessel.
I had no desire to disturb her concentration and so stayed silent, but neither did I feel much enthusiasm for a chase that must surely run random through these western woods. I thought we should do better to find high ground and track the Sky Lords’ progress to some destination. I let my mare fall back to flank Barus and put this notion to him.
He gave me a somewhat contemptuous look and shook his head. “This is not our first chase,” he said. “Do we stay close enough, we can take them when they land.”
I craned my head back, seeking to find the sky through the webwork of boughs. The afternoon was not much advanced, and as best I could tell from the filtered light, we likely had a long ride ahead of us. Still, it was easier work than running.
“It was fortunate you were in Brynisvar,” I said.
Barus nodded. “Recruiting for Tryrsbry’s warband. Seeking potential sorcerers.” He chuckled. “Or Storymen. We found you instead.”
I could not tell if he intended insult, nor cared much. It seemed he had taken a dislike to me, and his opprobrious manner prompted a mutual disregard, but I elected to hide my feelings: the making of enemies serves a Storyman ill. So I only grunted and continued in silence, letting my gray mare move a little way apart. Barus paid me no further attention, and I concentrated on Krystin, who yet ran ahead like a hunting dog leading her pack.
As we rode deeper into the hinterland, the terrain grew rougher, the hills steeper and higher, the valleys smaller. The timber thickened, so that we rode more often than not beneath a roofing of branches, the sky obscured. But Krystin never faltered, and as the afternoon gave way to evening and we climbed a hogback spread thick with tall pines, she found our quarry.
The commur-mage raised a hand as we approached the crest. I slowed my gray even as Barus motioned for me to halt. Farther up the slope, Krystin dismounted, leading her black down to where we waited. I sprang from the saddle, clamping a hand over the mare’s nostrils as I saw her about to whicker. The jennym beckoned two soldiers over, whispering orders, and the men began to collect horses, leading them away to flatter ground. I gave them the gray’s reins.
Barus said, “Stay with the horses, Storyman. This is warrior’s work.”
I shook my head and saw his face blacken. He was about to speak when Krystin grasped his arm. “This is neither the time nor the place to argue,” she said.
“Nor to carry excess baggage,” Barus replied.
The commur-mage ignored him, turning to me. “Can you fight?” she asked.
“I’m Durbrecht-trained,” I told her, thinking that answer enough. I heard Barus snort softly and added, “I’ve fought Kho’rabi ere now.”
Krystin nodded and said, “All well, we’ll not fight them. Only kill them.”
Barus said, “I’ll not play nursemaid.”
I said, “I’ll not need such care.”
His dark eyes narrowed under the rim of his helm, and I thought him about to protest, but Krystin silenced him with a look and said, “So be it. On my order, jennym. Daviot comes with us.”
Barus ground his teeth. I wondered why he objected so to my presence, then dismissed the thought as Krystin waved the troop close.
There were, with me, twenty-one-odds none too favorable against ten Kho’rabi, and one of them a wizard. I waited to see what stratagem the commur-mage had planned.
She said, “The Sky Lords are landed over this ridge. Barus, do you come with me to spy the lie of the land. You others wait here, and in the God’s name keep those horses quiet.”
I glanced back: the horses were set on a picket line amongst the trees. I prayed my gray should not vent her temper. Then I heard the faint sounds of climbing and turned to see Krystin and Barus moving stealthily toward the crest. Before any could halt me, I followed them.
Barus favored me with an angry glare, Krystin with a look I could not interpret. I paid heed to neither. I was a Storyman: it was my duty to observe. The commur-mage motioned me to caution and I nodded, moving on hands and knees to the ridgeline, easing forward on my belly.
The pines thinned there, and the downslope was bare of cover. At the foot there was grass and a pool of clear blue water where rocks dammed a little stream. It was an idyllic setting. A breeze blew down the valley, setting the timber on the far slope to sighing. The sun was yet high enough the water glittered, gurgling merrily along its way. I noticed that no birds sang even as I stared at the red cylinder of the airboat that floated stationary to the north. I saw four of the Kho’rabi gathering wood, five bringing their spoils from the black carrier basket. The tenth-the wizard, I assumed-stood beneath the boat, his head tilted back, his arms spread wide. The disruption of the air surrounding the vessel was more noticeable as the shadows lengthened, an aura that shimmered and shifted like sunlit mist. Within it I saw the elementals more clearly. They were ethereal creatures, little more substantial than the aura itself, half the size of a man, all changing shades of blue and silver, with hints of darkness where eyes and mouths would be. I wondered what part they might take in the coming battle; and if Krystin’s magic should be strong enough to overcome them and the Kho’rabi wizard both.
Then I felt a tug on my arm and turned to find Barus calling me back: warily, I retreated.
We joined the others. I saw the Tryrsbry men had bows strung now. Krystin beckoned them close and whispered a report.
“We wait until sunset,” she said. “Let them settle to their dinner and think themselves safe. They build a fire, which shall light them for us. Loose your shafts on my order.”
“Horses?” Barus asked, and the commur-mage shook her blond head: “No, that slope’s too strewn with rubble, and we’d need bring the animals up beforehand. Arrows and a charge on foot is the way.”
The jennym nodded his agreement. I said, “What of the wizard?”
Krystin said, “He’s mine.”
I said, “And the elementals? What of them?”
She frowned and returned me, “What of them?”
I heard Barus snigger softly, as if I once more exhibited ignorance. I once more ignored him, frowning in my turn as I asked Krystin, “Shall they not fight for the Sky Lords?”
She smiled, but in a friendly manner, and said, “No. The Kho’rabi wizards bind the spirits to their cause, but they’ll offer us no hurt. Do they approach you, ignore them-they’re harmless.”
I said, “I’d thought …”
And fell silent as Barus murmured, “This Storyman knows little, eh?”
Krystin said, “Barus,” in a tone of reprimand and brought her face close to mine. We were both somewhat sweaty after our half day of hard riding, but hers was sweet and pleasantly musky. The breath that touched my face was sweeter still as she said, “The elementals owe no allegiance save what’s imposed on them by the Sky Lords’ magic. They are bound to their task by sorcery, not desire, and once the Kho’rabi wizard dies, they’ll run free. Think of them as a team of horses hitched to the airboat.”