He glanced behind to see that everyone was following, then checked to the right where Daeryn Road continued downhill to a little bridge over the stream…and glimpsed movement from the corner of his eye. His head whipped around, and there, charging from behind the barn, were four horsemen…no, six…no, nine horsemen.
“Ride!” he yelled, and slammed in his heels. The mare bolted, and he tore across the intersection risking a glance behind…Ryssin, then Byorn, then Sofy, skirts flying. He had to turn back before Teriyan came into view, but he guessed he would be there too, guarding the rear. He held the mare wide right, then cut into the left-hand bend ahead, as he'd learned in many reckless races along such roads in his youth…
A glance behind showed Ryssin following his line, then Byorn. He made a similar line at the next right. Probably, he thought grimly, the wind rushing in his face, whoever was chasing knew these roads equally well. Probably it was someone who knew him well, to have guessed he might come this way. Having Teriyan at the rear had seemed a reasonable precaution before-he was the best warrior astride after Jaryd. But fighting from horseback was not the same as regular swordplay. Had they all been afoot, Jaryd had no doubt the nine nobility would have little chance against the four swordsmen of their party. But horses were expensive, and nobility had vastly more riding experience than even Teriyan.
Jaryd knew how to lose them…or at least, some of them. It was an old trick, in these parts, and doubtless his pursuers knew it too…but now, there was Sofy to worry about. She had the least riding experience of them all. Perhaps…perhaps it would be best for her to turn and surrender? They'd never harm a princess of Lenayin. But what if she never got the opportunity to open her mouth and they killed an insolent country girl for conspiring with a traitor? Teriyan was right-he'd made these men mad. Likely whomever they caught would not live long enough to make pretty explanations.
Trees, then fields, then farmhouses all flashed by as the road wound back and forth, and Jaryd searched impatiently for a suitable location. Then he saw it-an orchard, sloping toward the stream. Beyond the stream, the rising, forest-covered slope of the valley side. He pointed hard with his right arm and hoped to the gods that Sofy would be able to muscle her horse off the road if it baulked. The orchard was surrounded by low stone walls, but one corner fronting the road was missing for access…Jaryd urged the mare sharply through the hole. The mare didn't like it, but he left her no doubt and she went, hooves uncertain on new footing, rushing past fruit trees. He ducked some branches and then he was in the lane between planting furrows and the mare accelerated once more, liking this new road better.
Jaryd glanced behind and saw Ryssin, Byorn…then Sofy…good. He slowed the mare again and cut right, ducking branches. A hanging fruit hit him in the head, and he raised an arm to protect his face from another branch. Soon he cut left again, onto a wider lane, checking behind…again, Ryssin was there, but he had no time to see the others. The ground beneath the trees was thick with long bullgrass, which would hide the horses’ tracks. Certainly they could be tracked, but slowly, and the pursuers would have no choice but to split up.
After a while of zigzagging toward what he thought was the centre of the orchard, Jaryd stopped. Ryssin appeared between the thick branches, but there was no space to stand two horses aside, so he rounded the nearest tree. Byorn came past also, then Sofy, who stopped in the lane between trees. Then Teriyan, squeezing his horse against a tree's branches, leaning low in the saddle amidst the leaves and fruit.
“Good thinking, lad,” he said, breathing hard. From somewhere behind, Jaryd could hear yells; hooves thundering one direction, and another.
“They'll split around the perimeter,” said Jaryd. “About half of them. The other half will come in through the trees and try to flush us out.”
“Couldn't they dismount and crouch down?” Sofy asked, looking dubiously at the surrounding trunks. “Can't they see the legs of our horses?”
Jaryd was impressed-it was exactly what they'd done, sometimes, hiding from irate farmers, or opposing teams in boyhood games. “In a younger orchard, yes. But this is mature, see how the branches hang down?” Sure enough, many fruit-laden boughs were pressing the grassy ground. “You can't see more than two or three furrows in any direction.”
Sofy was breathing hard and clearly a little frightened, yet she looked remarkably composed for all that. Her hair, though, was now thoroughly tangled, and she bore a red scratch on one cheek.
“What now then?” asked Teriyan. “Do we split up?”
“Better to stay together,” said Jaryd. “Splitting up just increases the odds they'll find one group or another. They've got holes in their formation now-if we can find one, best we get all of us through it.” Teriyan nodded. “They'll think we'll be heading across the stream into the forest…I reckon we keep going across the valley, they won't expect it, there'll be less of them guarding that side. I'll ride down on my own and be seen, draw them into chasing me back into the orchard, while you lot take off to the east. I'll follow as I can.”
“Wait, wait!” Sofy protested. “You said we'd stick together!”
“I said you'd best stick together,” Jaryd retorted. “I know these idiots chasing us, I know this country, I've escaped mobs chasing me before and I can do it again-my biggest problem is other people slowing me down.” With a firm stare at the princess. Sofy's return stare suggested she didn't believe him. “Ryssin, scout forward near the edge of the orchard…when you hear my diversion, ride like a demon.”
The woodsman nodded. “We'll head for the trees further up,” he said, “and risk the slower trails.”
“Aye,” Jaryd agreed, “I think we're far enough east by now anyhow.”
“Head for the highest point along the ridge if we're split up,” said Ryssin. “I'll find you.”
Jaryd nodded, turned and rode downslope, the mare ducking and weaving uncertainly through the tangling branches. He heard the others moving off. Then other hooves, somewhere more distant, horses moving through the trees. He unsheathed his sword. If he came upon one of the nobles in this thicket, there was not going to be much time to react.
He paused, several furrows back from the edge of the orchard, and stood in the stirrups, but the trees were tall and he couldn't see through the branches. After a moment he caught a glimpse of movement on the perimeter…and then, as he peered, a man on a horse, moving sideways, searching the trees. Jaryd readied his arm, steadying his breathing. These men meant to kill him, he had no doubt. His siblings were not here now to restrain their swords.
He thumped the mare's sides and burst from the orchard. The rider reacted with shock and the horse reared, Jaryd cutting past its hooves to lash at the rider's back…only the noble's guard was fast, and steel clashed in defence. Jaryd wheeled, and saw three more coming at him from the left, two from the right…they were yelling, too, drawing others. He plunged back into the orchard, branches tearing at his face and arms, weaving for whatever small gaps he could glimpse through the greenery.
Suddenly there was a horse and rider before him…his mare reared, half colliding with the other horse, whose rider swung hard. Jaryd barely got his sword up in time, but the impact jolted him in the saddle. Swinging branches displaced by the horses snapped back, and the next thing he knew, he was falling, twisting to roll and not fall on his sword. He hit, but the ground was soft, and he rolled fast to avoid the other horse's trampling hooves. He rolled into the base of a tree and scrambled up, looking for the mare…but she was off.
Jaryd tried to run after her, but the other man spun his horse after him. Jaryd leapt sideways into a gap between trees, the horseman not reining up in time and finding no space to manoeuvre as he stopped alongside. Jaryd saw his chance and lunged upward and felt his sword drive home. A shriek from the rider, his horse suddenly fighting a pull on the reins. Jaryd was about to drag the wounded man from the saddle when hooves thundered behind, and he ran instead, having no time to claim the horse.
He ran fast, weaving between trees, hearing the thunder of hooves and the crashing of heavy bodies through branches. At least the others would be away by now, he found time to think-these men were only interested in him. He scrambled beneath heavy branches and put his back to one gnarled trunk, gasping for breath as several horses came past. He glimpsed the glint of drawn swords through the trees. He ran then not for the centre of the orchard, and safety, but downslope…he could hear riders shouting that he was off his horse. They knew he was on foot. No longer would they bother maintaining a perimeter around the orchard. Perhaps if he could find an adjoining fenceline, he could crouch low and run, and they'd never see him…
He reached the eastern edge of the orchard and crouched, staring across the open, recently ploughed field. No fencelines. No irrigation trenches, no hedge rows. He'd have to head back upslope to the road. Or…he crouched lower as hooves thundered nearby. Then a horse crashed into the open field, barely five trees upslope, and cut directly past him. His rider did not see.
Jaryd moved fast, took four running steps and slashed with his sword before the rider could respond. The sword cut deep, the rider clutching his side, reins pulling the horse around in a tight circle. He fell, a horrid, shoulder-first thump upon the turf, and rolled, finally losing the horse's reins. Jaryd ran for the horse, but already there were hooves thundering behind…he grabbed the dangling reins, but the horse shied away, making him grab again. The hooves behind were too close, and he spun, seeing another rider coming down on him fast, blade drawn. The riderless horse scampered away, Jaryd running after, as much to use its bulk as a shield than to grab the reins. The attacking rider came past, too far out, and wheeled, losing all speed before a new charge.
Jaryd ran straight at him, coming in low, blade first. Warhorses hated that when they weren't running. This one reared, and Jaryd feinted left, then ducked right, and cut up at the right-handed rider from his weaker left side-the harder, low angle to defend from the saddle. The rider's desperation saved him, his blade slashing hard downward, deflecting the blow…thus exposing an arm low, which Jaryd grabbed and dropped his entire bodyweight onto. The rider crashed from the saddle, face down on the turf.
Jaryd came up fast, ready for the finishing blow. The other rider half rose, holding an arm awkwardly, face dirty where it had planted the turf…and Jaryd recognised Rhyst Angyvar, blond hair, cut face and all. “You again,” he observed. “Do you need another twenty men in support before you'd dare try and take me?”
Rhyst scrambled back cringing, blade wavering in panicked defence. “Help!” he screamed. “Somebody help me!” More hooves were thundering from several directions. Both riderless horses had galloped off in fear. Jaryd was tired of hiding in the orchard. He turned to meet the nearest horseman, blade at the ready…and saw that this horse was coming at him from across the open field, not the orchard. On its back was Sofy, hair and skirts streaming in the wind. And now, she was actually slowing, leaning down with one arm as she'd surely seen cavalry practise…only she hadn't taken her near boot out of her stirrup. Dear lords.
Jaryd sheathed his sword fast, took several running steps as she slowed alongside, and ignored her arm entirely, not wanting to pull her slight weight from the saddle. He leaped, and grabbed the saddle horn between her legs, and the rear side, and somehow managed to drag himself half onto the galloping animal's back. A further struggle, his face buried against Sofy's waist, and he got a leg over, grabbing Sofy and the saddle horn to pull himself into position behind, as they cut downhill alongside the orchard. And here ahead, another rider was coming past them on the left, sword ready for a backhand cut that would take both their heads off with one stroke.
“Down!” Jaryd roared, shoving her forward onto her horse's neck with his left hand, drawing with his right and smashing the stroke away just in time. Sofy recovered, steering them around as Jaryd held her about the middle with his left arm, his right free to ward off anyone else who tried to kill them. A glance back showed the man who'd nearly decapitated them was slow in recovering, holding his jarred right arm.
“Where the hells is Teriyan?” He shouted, trying to keep Sofy's hair from his face. “He was supposed to look after you!” It angered him that she should risk herself so. It angered him worse that he was the cause of it.
“We…” Sofy seemed breathless. Jaryd realised that that would be the first time anyone had swung a blade at her. “Another two men chased us!” she replied, finally, when she had enough breath. “We separated from Ryssin and Byorn, but then these two chased us…Teriyan killed one, but the other was persistent…I thought you might be in trouble, so I thought I'd come back!”
“You stupid girl, you're worse than your sister! You're a princess, you can't risk yourself for me! What were you thinking?!”
“Hey listen, boy,” she retorted, “if I hadn't, you'd be dead! I'd quit while I'm ahead if I were you!” Jaryd blinked. He hadn't exactly been expecting her to burst into tears at his rebuke, but he hadn't expected that.
Abruptly he laughed, hysterically, and gave a whoop. It was good to be alive. He hugged her close with his left arm, for which he had plenty of excuse, because balance was hardly easy on the back of her saddle.
A glance over his shoulder showed at least four riders in pursuit, though none was terrifyingly close. Well ahead, beyond the wall of the next field, he saw the small figure of another rider. This one had long red hair and a drawn blade. Jaryd waved him on harshly, shouting at him to move on-no doubt the big warrior was mortified at having lost the princess, whatever the threat to his own life. (Though it seemed the second man pursuing him had met an ill fate as well. Perhaps, Jaryd thought, he'd underestimated Teriyan's skill on horseback.)
Teriyan took off, though Jaryd doubted he'd go far-probably just to clear the way ahead. But he was heading too far along…Jaryd was pretty sure he knew a better way.
“Down here,” he said, pointing with his sword down toward the stream on their right. “There's a shallow crossing here, I think, and then a trail beyond it.”
“Don't point that thing everywhere around me,” Sofy retorted, turning them right. “It's unnerving.”
Jaryd grinned. “Listen, Princess Cavalryman, the next time you come in for a fast pickup, leave me a stirrup, huh? How the hells am I supposed to get into the saddle without a stirrup?”
“Damn!” Sofy exclaimed. “I was certain I'd missed something…I've only seen them do it a few times!” She tugged at her dress about the saddle horn-it was riding rather high up one leg, Jaryd noticed. “One thing's for certain, I'll never make fun of Sasha's fashion choices ever again! This dress is trying to get me killed!”
As they approached the stream, Jaryd grasped her more tightly. “Ease up! Ease up!” As Sofy tugged back on the reins. “Not too much, don't walk or they'll catch us! Just there, now…” The horse cantered into the stream and spray went everywhere. Then they were coming out the other side. “Good, now go!” Sofy kicked with her heels.
“Left!” said Jaryd in her ear. “Stay on the bank. Now, see the break in the trees past this big vertyn?”
“I see it!”
“Turn right there, there's a trail!”
Sofy turned and then they were galloping up a narrow path through the trees. Already, the land was beginning to rise. Jaryd looked around but saw nothing behind…the pursuers had fallen back. Probably their horses were the more tired-to have made that intersection in such rapid time from Algery would have required a flat-out gallop. “Slow down a little, there's some sharper corners here!”
Their own horse was tiring and frothing wet with sweat, but it wasn't far now. After a time on the winding trail, the path dipped and Sofy slowed further to take them down into a little fold in the forested hillside. Here ran a stream.